#wild mass guessing wh

[thecolourfulkingdom]

What are the bugs of Welcome Home

Let me make it clear, whatever they are they are not insects.

Look at what I have caught:

Why do some have floral pattern? Is it even a pattern? Are they part plants?

2. Some have purple on them, which is already suspicious in itself. Are they related to time? Time is purple or only night time is?

3. What's the deal with the eyes? These are not insect eyes at all. Who the hell painted this one below all over? Damn, as above so below indeed.

4. I can live with the fact that some of they are fuzzy. But why? Are they fuzzy like bees or... like moss? Okay this one also has 8 legs. Why?

5. What's with this walking rainbow? Looks pretty. Pretty poisonous, if you ask me. A pretty poisonous wig. Kinda reminds me of Puss Moth Caterpillar.

6. Butterflies are know to be psychopomps in some cultures.

7. Way too cute close up. Ever saw butterfly close up photo? That's what I mean.

8. Frank and butterflies. He sure collects them. But pillbug is said to be his favourite. But pillbugs aren't bugs. It's a kind of terrestial isopod. Even more amusing.

9. Now what the hell even is this thing? Strongly reminds me of a green-banded broodsac. Leucochloridium paradoxum, for those of you who are more scentifically inclined. So what's the deal with it? The pulsating, green broodsacs fill the eye stalks of the snail, and by doing so it attracts birds, who are its the primary host. In sort - it visually imitates caterpillars. Another name for such type of creature? Puppeteer parasite.

To be fair, the last one worries me the most. Because Howdy also has striped antennae on this head. of course it can be a mere coinsendence...

Also let's talk about Sally.

[thecolourfulkingdom]

Does it mean that Home is like a fungal colony? Kinda Fairy Ring type of thing? Oh, in case if you please don't know: fairy rings are produced by a mycelium that grows out equally from a most central point. Fungal threads break down the proteins in the dead vegetation to make food for the colony.

This "food" then is returned to the soil and thanks to it grows an outer ring of lush, green grass.

Within this is a ring of poor grass. General consensus on the origin of this phenomenon that it's either caused by the mycelium clogging the air spaces in the soil and which is why water can't reach the grass roots or because of fungus's parasitic action on the roots.

The innermost ring is another lush place that is most likely produced by food that was made on the materials created by decomposition in the soil of the old fungal mycelium.

Now look at the map. And change grass to trees.

realization 1: several things about the way that home the town functions seem to imply that it’s some kind of genius loci (ex. the fact that home the town and home the house share the same name, home the house having a heart on their bottommost side as well as their spot on the little map from the street clock concept art being marked with a heart, the fact that the winter holiday as stated in the december 3rd stream is more intended for the houses than their inhabitants and seems to be Specifically based around the idea that every house is alive in its own way, etc.)

realization 2: it’s been mentioned a few times on clown’s tumblr that the only wildlife present in the town is insect life, or at least anything generally considered to be a Bug, but there is no reason given for why this is the case; i assume it will be important later. either way, insects in fiction are commonly associated with/characterized as being attracted to death and decay.

realization 3: clown has described welcome home as a story about “how it is like to live in a decaying Home.”

conclusion: Putting A Pin In It

[artemistorm]

Hi, shinobi-addiction here!! This isn't my main blog but it is the one with all my LU posts. I saw your post about short stories and figured I'd join in on the fun!

Can I request Sky and cuccos?

Hi @shinobi-addiction here's a crackfic for you!

******

Sky had a secret weapon, one that none of the other heroes had.

“Is it a tool?” Four asked. “Some kind of movement item?”

“Nope,” Sky shook his head with a grin.

“Is it a magic spell?” Hyrule asked.

“Wrong again,” Sky replied.

“How about an awesome crossbow?” Wind asked. “Or a scimitar?”

“No and no again,” Sky said. “you guys are never gonna guess it.”

“When are you going to show us?” Wild asked.

“When the time is right,” Sky crossed his arms. “And it isn’t time yet.”

******

A few weeks later, the Chain was in an abandoned ghost town, fighting a horde of gibdos, redeads, and stalchildren and the battle wasn’t going well.

A gibdo had bitten and disabled Legend’s sword arm and Hyrule had been frozen by the scream of a redead, knocked out, and his sword stolen and carried off into one of the buildings.

Wild was drifting around the edges of the battle, unarmed and walking in an uncoordinated and unfocused way that make Sky suspect he was possessed by a poe.

Time had been swarmed by stalchildren that weighed down his limbs, and pulled him down. Wind tried to break through the writhing mass of bones and free his mentor, but had been swarmed and absorbed into it.

Epona had spooked at the start of the battle and bucked Twilight off, but his foot had been caught in the stirrup and he’d been dragged away by the frightened horse.

A terrifying gibdo with wings had simply picked up Four and flew away with him.

Warriors was doing his best to hold his own, but one of the undead had spewed poison into his face and he was rapidly losing stamina and being overwhelmed.

They were losing the battle hard and fast, and it was up to Sky to summon his secret weapon.

Sky pulled out his harp and played a single note, then put it away again just in time to kick away a redead that was getting a little too handsy for his liking.

“COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOOOO!!!” A distant cuckoo crowed.

And then suddenly, like a rising fog, cuckoos came out of the grass, the trees, the empty houses, cuckoos dropped out of the sky and sprang up out of the well and flooded the battlefield. They bawked and pecked and clawed at the gibdoes and redeads and stalchildren.

They stole bones away from the bodies of the stalchildren until Time and Wind were able to break free from their grasp.  They ate the gibdo that attacked Warriors. They attacked an invisible entity above Wild until he collapsed like a puppet with the strings cut. Wild awoke and slowly got up to his feet, once again under his own power. A small flock flew off into an orchard and returned, carrying a shaken and confused Four. They flapped and screamed in Hyrule’s face until he regained consciousness.

Once all of the undead were defeated, the cuckoos flew off again in one giant flock.

Slowly the Links began to stagger back together and regroup in the center of town.

“Wait, where’s Twilight?” Wild asked.

Just then the flock of cuckoos returned, carrying both Twilight and Epona kicking and screaming in their collective talons.

“Slap me, am I dreaming?”  Legend muttered.

“No, you are not,” Time replied in awe. “They’re carrying a grown man and an entire horse.”

The cuckoos set down Twilight and Epona and with one last rooster crow, they scattered in all directions.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the weirdest thing I have ever seen,” Hyrule said.

“Sky… wh—how… how did you do that?!” Legend gasped, grasping his bloody arm with his good one. “How did you summon an army of cuckoos?!”

“I rescued a golden cuckoo once, in Warriors’ Hyrule,” Sky explained. “So it was in my debt. When I summoned it for help, it came to our aid.”

“After all this time, THAT your secret weapon??” Wind gaped.

“Yes, yes it was,” Sky answered. “It pays now and then to be friendly to cuckoos.”

[hphmmatthewluther]

Matthew Luther and the Riddle of Easter

7th April, 1985:

It was a Sunday, and everyone at Hogwarts was either busy enjoying themselves or furiously studying for their exams. Well, almost everyone. For in the West wing of the Castle, up in Ravenclaw Tower, there was one person still in their bed. He wasn’t asleep, but he didn’t exactly want to get out of bed. Matthew Luther didn’t really feel like there was much of a point. If he did, he would either get dozens of looks for being Jacob Luther’s brother, or be pestered by the Slytherins again. As far as he was concerned, it was best to avoid all of that. For the past three years, it appeared that God had been playing an awfully long-winded joke on him. So there he laid, trying not to think about anything, forcing himself to go back to sleep.

Suddenly, there was a noise. A loud, piercing screech. It sounded like a cat of some kind. It was probably Mrs Norris, Matthew thought, covering his ears with the pillow. If he hadn’t, he would have heard several tiny footsteps moving towards the dormitory door, followed by a click. He finally noticed when the door swung open, filling the room with light.

“Gah!” Matthew exclaimed, squinting to see that the only thing in the doorway was a cat. It wasn’t Mrs Norris, that was for sure. This one had large, green eyes and ginger hair, and it didn’t hiss at a moments’ notice. It walked up to the bed, and started to mew at the first-year.

“...Oh, what? What is it?” Matthew asked, pushing himself over to see the cat. It looked at him, right at him, before glancing up at his desk. On it was Matthew’s wand, books, and his silver bracelet. In a flash, the ginger cat jumped up and swiped it, scampering out of the room with the bracelet in its mouth.

“H-Hey!” yelled Matthew, quickly forcing the duvet off of him, grabbing his wand and heading off after the cat. He followed it down the stairs and into the Ravenclaw Common Room, and into the many bookshelves that made up Ravenclaw Tower. The cat headed deep into the tower, until it came to a stop several minutes later near an alcove with several blue lanterns and cushions. It sat down on one of these cushions, keeping the bracelet under its claws. Slowly, Matthew approached the animal, now exhausted thanks to having chased it down here.

“There’s got to be a better way to do this...” he said to himself, moving closer. And then it hit him. He was going about this all wrong. I always am, he thought, stopping in his tracks. Cautiously, he moved his hand forward, not towards the bracelet, but to the cat’s head. It hesitated for a moment, sniffing the hand, before allowing Matthew to stroke its head, moving its claws away from the silver. He didn’t grab it instantly, and instead sat down on one of the cushions, continually stroking the cat. Eventually, it moved onto his lap, and Matthew finally grabbed his bracelet and put it on. He gave a sigh of relief as he felt the cold metal touch his skin.

“Ah, you’re not so bad.” he admitted, as he started to give the cat chinny rubs. It purred loudly in his lap. “I wonder who you belong to.”

“He belongs to nobody.” came a woman’s voice. Matthew snapped his head up, and the cat remained still in its lap. In front of them was a silvery figure in a resplendent dress, with long brown hair going past the shoulders. She had the tiniest of smiles on her face. Matthew gasped.

“It’s you...” he began, “The Ghost of Ravenclaw Tower...Helena Ravenclaw.” he said, remembering Chester informing him that she didn’t like the name “The Grey Lady”. And honestly, who would?

“I am glad that you solved my riddle. It’s a favourite of those eager to find a suitor who has both intelligence and kindness, and faith in their soul.” Helena explained, “Take good care of it.”

Matthew’s eyes widened. “You- You’re giving me a cat? W-What? W-Why?” he stammered, looking down at the cat’s green eyes.

“I felt that you require a companion that is immune to human inventions such as rumour, or scandal.” Helena said, gliding closer to the window. “Things that you know too well.”

Matthew nodded. “You can say that again.” The cat got off of his lap and pounced up to the windowsill. The Ravenclaw got up and moved towards it too, to see whatever it was that had caught their attention. From here, they could see a great deal of Hogwarts, including the Clocktower Courtyard. There, he could make out a large crowd of people surrounding two people. One of them was a nervous-looking Gryffindor, and the other was a wild-haired Slytherin.

“Ben and Merula!” Matthew exclaimed, “Oh no...”

“Ah, yes. I believe the Snyde girl has been one of the most eager to find the Cursed Vaults.” Helena observed. “Besides you, of course. I must ask, is this why you have shut yourself here?”

Matthew’s expression soured even more so. The cat nuzzled his shoulder. “That’s..that’s not it. It’s just...well, it’s Easter.”

“Indeed it is.” confirmed Helena, looking down at the boy.

“Well, it’s just...we don’t have an owl, so my Dad can’t send me anything, so that sucks...” Matthew explained, “But more than that...it’ll be the first time I’ve missed it. Every year, we’d go to church and they’d give us all a little chocolate egg, and we got to do colouring activities while the main service happened. I know I’m twelve now, but...it was nice seeing everyone there, you know? I just...that was how it happened every year. I miss that.”

Helena nodded. “You miss your old life. Now I must ask you something that may cause you offence.” she announced. “How does staying up here solve any of that?”

Matthew stared, open-mouthed. “Wh- well, I...I...you stay up here all the time, don’t you?!” he reminded her, suddenly very annoyed. He knew that staying up here wasn’t helping, but hearing it from somebody else was just...well, it felt awful. It then occurred to him what he had just said. “I...I’m sorry, I should go, I-”

“No. I understand.” Helena reassured him. 

“I...” Matthew began, “It’s no excuse, but...I just...I know it's wrong. But I can’t bring myself to change anything. When I was younger I’d always had Jacob to help me with that...we’d always get the same Easter chocolate, too. He’d tell me when to stop so I could space it out over the holidays, you know, to make it last. He was brilliant. I guess if I had the chocolate now, I’d eat it all in one go and feel awful about it later...I...I guess I just miss him. He was brilliant, and...I can’t stand his name being tarnished.” As he let everything out, he found himself stroking the cat again. It turned onto its back and let Matthew rub its belly. Helena watched for a moment, before sighing.

“Matthew Luther, in case you had not noticed, I am dead. But more than that, I am a ghost. I refused to let go of this world, as I did not have the faith to move on. Thus, I am trapped here, unable to truly feel the pull of the world around me...unable to enact change. You are not dead. You are alive. You can enact change.”

Matthew digested this, taking a long sigh. “You’re right. Of course you are. It’s just...so damn hard sometimes.”

“As all things worth doing are.” Helena said, “Now, best hurry. It looks like Mr Copper has been struck by the Jelly-Legs Jinx.”

“Right!” said Matthew, picking up his wand again and heading towards the door of Ravenclaw Tower, the cat following behind. “Honestly, I think I lost God’s lottery, and then there’s Ben-”

“Matthew!” cried Helena, gliding forward.

“Um...yes?” he asked. The ghost pointed at him.

“You are still wearing your pyjamas.” 

Matthew blushed. “Right, sorry, gah!” he exclaimed, heading up to the boy’s dormitory. A few minutes later he emerged, now with proper clothes on. He looked down at the cat by his feet.

“I guess you need a name.” he realised. “How about...Danny?”

Danny mewed quietly, scratching his head against Matthew’s leg.

“Great.” He said, before turning to the Grey Lady. “I...thank you. You know, I think you’re slightly wrong. You said you couldn’t change things, and now here I am, off to duel half of Slytherin.”

Helena’s smile grew ever-so-slightly. “Well...take care of that cat. It’s been in my care for a few years now, it deserves someone like you.”

“I will. I promise.” he said. Before he left, however, he turned back. “Um, Helena?”

“Yes, Matthew?”

“Do wizards...do they believe in God?”

Helena paused, then nodded. “Some do. They believe that he gave us our magic for a purpose, and...that we are destined to act as Guardian Angels for the masses.”

Matthew nodded in return. “Yeah, cool, um...see you around, Helena! Thank you for the cat! Oh, and Happy Easter!” he yelled, before dashing out of Ravenclaw Tower.

When Matthew got to the courtyard, the crowd had almost doubled. Rowan was standing nearby.

“Where were you? The Slytherins have been, well they’ve been-”

“I know.” Matthew said, scowling. He pushed his way to the front of the crowd. The group of Slytherins were hurling insult after insult at Ben, who had next-to-no chance of defending himself. Matthew sighed, and pointed his wand at Ben’s wiggling legs.

“Unjellify!” he yelled, causing them to straighten out. Ben immediately backed away, Rowan moving forward to check if he was okay. “Wait, the counter-curse is just ‘Unjellify’? That’s it?!” Merula asked, her eyebrow raised.

“Trust me, I was surprised too.” Matthew said, chuckling. “Alright then, guys, you’ve had your fun, so-”

“Oh shut up, halfbreed.” sneered Preston Crawford, another Slytherin who Matthew found to be worse than Merula. “You’ve made an enemy today, you know that?”

“Mm, and I haven’t even had breakfast yet.” Matthew said, looking up at the clock tower. “Hm. Half eleven. Guess I’ll have to settle for brunch.”

“You’re going nowhere, Luther.” Merula declared, stepping forward. “I doubt you could ever best me.”

“Is that so?” Matthew asked. “How about this, then: If I win, you can’t lay a finger on Ben Copper ever again.”

Merula snorted. “And if I win, you will never search for the Cursed Vaults ever again.”

“Fine by me.” Matthew said, genuinely smiling. “By all means, you first.”

“Flipendo!” she screamed. Matthew took it head-on. He heard a gasp from the crowd as he skidded to a halt. Matthew looked down to see Danny by his feet. Ben was nearby.

“Matthew...you really don’t have to do this...really, I..” he stammered, but Matthew just smiled, and gestured to his cat.

“Take care of my cat while I do this, will you? Thanks a bunch. Expelliarmus!” he yelled, knocking Merula’s wand right out of her hand.

“Ooh...you little...” she muttered, scowling at the cheering crowd. “You can’t do this! You can’t stop me from showing that mudblood who’s boss! I’m the Most Powerful Witch at Hogwarts, and-”

“Umm...Merula...” Matthew began, pointing behind her.

“No, I’m not done! How’d you master that spell already?! It’s not fair! Nobody can be better than me! I can do what I want, when I want! I run this school, I-”

“Merula...” Matthew tried again.

“For Merlin’s sake, what?!”

“Ahem.” said Professor Snape. Merula looked behind her and gulped. Preston and his cronies quickly scattered.

“P-Professor Snape!” she said, quickly.

“I suspect this is your fault, Luther. Are you aware of Hogwarts policy on unauthorised duelling?”

Matthew felt his stomach curl up, and it wasn’t because he’d missed breakfast.

“Sir,” piped up Rowan, “Merula hit him first, he-”

“Enough, Khanna. Is this true, Miss Snyde?” Snape asked. Merula looked as though she was going to deny it, but Danny had walked over and started moving in and out of her legs. She looked down at the cat, then up at Snape, and nodded.

“Very well. You will report to me in the West Towers to discuss this transgression.” He declared, both him and Flitwick departing. A silence hung in the air.

“Blimey, I am starving.” said Matthew, clutching his stomach. “I wonder if they do cat food...Not for me of course,” he added, looking at Merula’s bewildered expression.

“Luther...I’m getting to the Vaults first. And you won’t stop me.”

“I look forward to trying.” he said, before heading into the castle with Rowan, moving towards the Great Hall.

“See? Told you she wasn’t that bad.” he was saying as they came to Ravenclaw table.

“Matthew, she tried to jinx you.” Rowan reminded him. “I mean, I certainly didn’t expect her to tell the truth, but do you really think she’ll keep her promise to stop bullying Ben?”

“I suppose we’ll find out.” 

Suddenly, there was a loud hooting as several owls flew into the Hall. One of them flew low down and dropped a large box in front of Matthew. Attached to it was a note.

Hey Matt,

Happy Easter. I don’t know if they celebrate it over there, but I convinced your mother to let me send these to you with her owl.

Keep it up, 

Love, Dad.

Matthew smiled and opened the box. It was filled with several large chocolate eggs, and a singular smaller one, too.

“Wh-what is all this?” Merula asked, having just appeared in the Great Hall.

“I think...” said Matthew, “It’s God’s way of saying, ‘Sorry, mate.’ Why, do you want some?”

Merula scowled, then walked over to the Slytherin table. Matthew just grinned.

[mexicancat-girl]

must be dreaming

Yet another MarcNath fic for #MLPrideFest2020 and Pride Month.

AO3: Link, 3k words.

Summary: Nathaniel dreams about Marc. He thinks it’s just a fluke. His older sister thinks otherwise.

.

...

“I must be dreaming, or,

We’re onto something…”

- - - - -

Nathaniel felt calm, and listless, totally at peace.

He was lying on his back, soft grass between his fingertips.

Above him stood a tree, branches stretching out wide. The branches were full to bursting with leaves, casting down shade. Sunlight dappled through the leaves, gold and red dancing behind his eyelids whenever they fluttered closed.

The place felt indistinct. Maybe he was lost, deep inside a grand forest. Maybe he was just lying down at a park. He wasn’t sure.

What he was sure was that the green of the tree above him was gorgeous, a vibrant shade that sparkled and danced in the gentle wind and sunlight.

He wasn’t alone, either. His head was in someone’s lap, and they were stroking their fingers through his hair. Soft and soothing and steady.

He felt content, and safe. Loved, even.

He closed his eyes, for a long moment, and then opened them once more. The tree’s leaves were just as green as before. But so were the pair of eyes peering back at him.

Nathaniel knew those eyes, emeralds surrounded by a legion of dark, barren branches. Soft eyes, kind eyes, familiar eyes.

Nathaniel blinked, and then Marc’s face came into focus.

Marc’s face was bent over Nathaniel’s, eyes crinkled, shiny pink lips pulled into a sweet smile. Dark strands of hair framed his face like a messy hallo.

Marc looked like he fit into the scenery perfectly. He was a wood nymph, ethereally beautiful. Nearly intangible to grasp.

Except the fingers were still threading through Nathaniel’s hair, and Marc was above him, and his head was pillowed in a warm lap. All real.

It felt strange, but familiar. He’s never put his head on Marc’s lap—at least, from what he can remember. He’s also never had Marc pet his hair like this. But the motions feel natural.

Nathaniel blinks again, at Marc’s blinding smile, teeth white and gleaming. He feels fuzzy all over. But something in his chest lurches. He thinks its his heart missing a beat.

Marc’s fingers are in his hair. Marc’s smile is sweet on his kissable-pink lips. Marc’s eyes are as green as the tree leaves above them.

“Nathaniel…” Marc breathes out, voice soft. Again, his heart misses a beat once more.

Nathaniel tries to work his jaw, even though he feels lethargic and boneless and completely incapable of moving a muscle.

“Marc?” he mumbles back, just barely above a whisper.

“Nathaniel…” Marc says once more, voice a sweet coo. The sunlight gets brighter behind his head, streaking his dark hair silver.

“Mmm?” Nathaniel asks. “Yeah?”

“Wake up, Nathaniel,” Marc states, but his voice sounds strange. Distant. Lighter and higher.

“Marc…?”

“Wake up.”

The sunlight burns brighter, illuminating all of Marc’s form. He looks angelic. Ethereal.

The fingers stop combing through Nathaniel’s hair, disentangling completely from his locks. He whines, feeling the loss instantly.

“C’mon, Nath. Wake up already,” Marc insists in that suddenly-high voice, as the colors blur. The green of the trees is replaced by bright, white light. Marc’s form becomes fuzzy and indistinct, like looking through fogged glass.

Marc’s eyes are the only part of the boy that left that are in-focus, bright green and dark lashes and so full of love and admiration—

- - - - -

Nathaniel’s breath hitches, and he blinks his eyes awake.

He groans, feeling an assault of light piercing like knives. He fumbles, raising a hand to rub at his eyelids.

“Rise and shine, little lamb,” someone familiar coos. Nathaniel grumbles, blearily blinking his eyes open. The thing he catches sight of first is the wild mass of curly, red hair.

“Yeesh! You were conked out on me for hours there, bud,” his sister laughs as his eyes finally focus. She grins crookedly down at his splayed form. Her grey eyes are warm and crinkled as she gently boops him on the nose.

A surge of disappointment fills him, so overwhelming and sudden, it knocks the breath straight from his lungs.

He shouldn’t be. This is his sister, after all. Jaina was always very willing to let him sleep on her, even petting his hair in a way he really enjoyed. She knew how to get him to go to sleep, and how to be soothing on top of that.

But it wasn’t…

“How long was I ‘sleep?” Nathaniel manages to croak out past the dryness of his throat, as well as the sudden lump of disappointment, bringing up his fist to wipe off the trail of drool down his chin.

“About three hours, give or take,” is Jaina’s matter-of-fact reply.

Nathaniel just about jolts up at that. “Three—three hours?!” he yelps, sitting up and shuffling away so he can stare at his sister in mild horror. “That’s…”

“A long time, little lamb,” she agrees, smiling crookedly, full of fondness. “But you looked like you needed the sleep. I didn’t mind.”

Nathaniel still feels insurmountably guilty, no matter the assurances. He quickly wipes his hands against his jeans, nervous, gripping onto his knees.

“But—But you only visit every other weekend…” he points out, voice terribly small as he hunches into himself. It’s the truth, after all; Jaina was busy with art school. “And I just went and—and wasted that time—”

“It wasn’t a waste,” Jaina cuts in, voice firm—sharp, even. She levels her gaze on him, as solid as steel. “You could nap on me for a hundred hours, and it’d never be a waste, baby brother.”

Nathaniel sighs lengthily, fiddling with his bangs. “Still…I feel bad.”

“Don’t. It’s not like you were in the way,” she shrugs, stretching her arms above her and giving a relieved hum as her vertebrae popped loudly and wetly. Nathaniel can’t fight down wrinkling his nose at the gross noises. “If anything, you helped me focus on studying for my test on Monday.”

All he does in response is give a hum, still unconvinced and guilty.

The guilt quickly drains from him as his sister shoots him a toothy smile. “Besides…Seems like you were havin’ a pretty nice dream, there.”

“W-Was I…?” he asks, feeling a bit nervous for some reason. He flattens his bangs down, and casts his gaze to his lap.

“Mmmmhm. You were smiling up a storm. And mumbling in your sleep.”

Oh no. What the fuck did he say in his sleep…?!

“Oh, nothing much, really,” Jaina states flippantly. Nathaniel nearly chokes on his spit, realizing he’d just said his thoughts aloud. “You were just muttering out…’Marc. Maaaarc’. While smiling like a puppy getting belly rubs.”

Nathaniel squeaks, face burning. “N—Wh—what? No I wasn’t!”

“I mean, that’s what is seemed like,” Jaina drawls out, smile wholly amused, her eyes gleaming impishly. “Didn’t know you and that Marc kid were so…close.”

“I-It’s not like that!” Nathaniel blusters out, flustered, barely even realizing what he was saying.

It’s not like that…? Like what, exactly?

Jaina gives him a long, pointed look. Nathaniel feels the distinct need to melt into a puddle under her knowing gaze. What does she know that he doesn’t…?

Then Jaina laughs, loud and warm, as she reaches out a hand to ruffle his hair. Nathaniel is too off kilter to dodge her assault.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop teasin’ you. You’re just too cute sometimes, y’know? My heart can’t handle it,” she coos, cackling he kicks at her leg in retaliation with his sock-clad feet. “Hey, hey, no need for violence now, baby brother.”

“I’ll show you violence…” he grumbles out, heaving himself to his feet. He peers around himself at the fixtures of Jaina’s old room, oddly half-barren; it was strange, not having her live in the house anymore. “Um…Thanks again, for letting me nap, though.”

“You may thank me now, but I think I’ve just messed with your sleep cycle,” is her sheepish reply. She smiles back at him apologetically. “Try not to go to bed too late, okay?”

“No guarantees, but I’ll try,” Nathaniel warns, because they both know his ADHD kicks his ass when it comes to sleeping properly. He stands awkwardly and watches as his sister gathers her things back in her bookbag. “Um. You heading back…?”

“Yeah, I prob’ly should,” his sister sighs, nearly stumbling as she tries to get up. “Gah! My legs are almost asleep, hold on—”

“Here, I’ve got you.”

Jaina proceeds to use Nathaniel as a crutch, helping her hobble to the nearby desk so she can have a more stable support structure as she shakes out her legs. Considering there’s more than a half-foot of height difference between them, it probably makes an incredibly comical sight.

“That’s what happens when I sit in one place for three hours, I guess,” she says, voice wholly bemused and airy. “Oh well.”

“Sorry again.”

“No need, no need,” she waves him off, hands on her hips as she smiles down at him.

“G’luck with school, then, little lamb,” is his sister’s parting words, before she leaves to go back to her apartment.

- - - - -

“Hey, just what d’you make me for?

I don’t fall in love lawlessly…”

- - - - -

Nathaniel’s mind whirls.

He feels…Strange. Confused. Antsy, even.

Nathaniel sits down at his desk, cracking his sketchbook open to rid his frustrations and strange feelings. It’s always worked before, so it should work now.

All he ends up drawing are trees with dappled sunlight and a pair of familiar, emerald eyes.

He slams his sketchbook closed, spooked and jittery, heart beating staccato in his chest.

What did it all mean…? Why did he dream what he did? Why was it Marc, of all people?

After all, parts of the dream were based on reality. Jaina had been soothing him, combing her fingers through his hair, his head in her lap. So why hadn’t he just dreamt of having a nice picnic or something with his sister…?

Why Marc?

Nathaniel didn’t know. All he knows is that he felt at peace in the dream. Like he was protected.

Like he was loved, even.

But, no. That had to be from Jaina, right? The feeling of love and safety and…

But it felt different than his other dreams. He’s dreamed of his family, before. Half-dreams and half-memories, where he went to the park or aquarium or Disney Paris with them. Dreams of his family having sweet times together were even more common of a theme after his parents divorced more than a year back.

This dream with Marc felt distinctly different. But Nathaniel couldn’t exactly put a finger on it…

Sighing, Nathaniel decides that maybe he should follow Jaina’s advice, and go to sleep at a decent time. Maybe more sleep will fix this.

It could all be just a fluke, after all. Just a hiccup. His brain playing tricks on him.

Nodding to himself with conviction, Nathaniel readies his things for school, and then gets ready for bed.

Just a fluke…

- - - - -

Nathaniel lets out a long sigh.

He’s glad he’s back in the Art Club room. He always feels like he can be himself, here, without judgement. It’s a warm and welcoming place.

He goes to his usual table on autopilot. Passes by Alix’s wall of half-done graffiti and doesn’t spare an extra glance at the mannequins that Marinette likes to use.

No one else is here. It’s quiet.

That’s fine. Nathaniel finds comfort in the quiet.

He stops before he can sit down, looking at the sunlight streaming through the large windows of the room, letting in natural sunlight. The room is bathed in warm gold.

Nathaniel’s now sitting, bag on the table. A voice says quietly on his left side, “Hello.”

He turns his head, smiling automatically at the sight of his friend and partner, the smile wide in his mouth. “Hey.”

Marc looks pretty today.

Granted, Marc always looks pretty. There’s never been a time where he hasn’t.

But there’s something about him right now that’s different. It’s subtle, but there. It’s highlighted by the sun streaming in through the windows, bathing him in golden light.

Marc’s hair looks windswept, but smooth and silky, strands gleaming like a velvety curtain. His cheekbones are highlighted by the natural light perfectly. His eyes look vibrant, as soft as his perfect complexion. A bit of his collarbone is exposed from his colorful t-shirt as he leans forwards, glistening pink lips pulled back into a smile with a hint of white teeth.

“I’ve been looking forwards to club time,” Marc says as if a secret, Nathaniel’s gaze enthralled by the way he ducks his head bashfully and looks up at Nathaniel through his eyelashes. “I have so many ideas to write…”

“Me too,” Nathaniel says, having to force his lips to work. For some reason, he feels speechless in the wake of his unfairly beautiful friend.

Marc smiles sweetly back at him. His lips are kissable pink. The light dances across their glossy, plush surface.

Nathaniel can’t stop looking at them.

“Nathaniel…?” Marc asks slowly. Nathaniel’s enthralled with the way those lips shape into his name, feels his heart stutter at the quiet intimacy of Marc’s voice.

“Your lips. Gloss. Look nice,” he manages to mumble, words so very hard to say.

Nathaniel manages to tear his gaze up to look at his friend’s face. Marc smiles back at him, cheeks flushed and lips a bashful smile. “Th-thank you.”

“Can…Can I try…” he trails off, not knowing how to word his request. Not even knowing what his request is, in the first place.

He just wants. The feeling washes over him, from head to toe. His chest swells, and he feels like he’s going to burst.

Marc’s emerald eyes gleam bright behind his lashes. He nods meekly, face alight, a petal pink hue. He looks cute. Very, very cute.

“I don’t have my lip gloss with me, but…” Marc trails off, voice oddly shaky. Nathaniel’s gaze zeroes in on those plush lips, enticingly pink and shiny.

Nathaniel blinks, eyes falling to half-mast. He feels hazy and content, while also feeling excited and breathless.

Marc starts to lean in. Nathaniel starts to lean in.

Closer and closer. It feels like an eternity.

Marc is haloed by the sun streaming in, eyes blazing bright with affection, his lips getting closer and closer and—

- - - - -

Nathaniel startles awake with a gasp, eyes flying open and fingers gripping knuckle-white on his sheets.

His face feels like it’s on fire. Actually, his entire body feel like it’s on fire.

Nathaniel tries to kick off his covers like a buck wild horse. The sheets cling to his sweat-slick skin, and he pants like he’s been running a marathon.

Nature’s a-knocking, much to his mortification. He very pointedly ignores that (as he’s sure as hell not going to unpack that now) to awkwardly roll over and bury his face into his pillow. He then promptly screams into said pillow, because what the fuck was that?!

What—Who—Why—Whywhywhywhywhy—

It was…It was Marc. Again. But it wasn’t…It was more than just…And then the…the lips? Leaning in? They were. They were gonna—

Fuck.

Fuck!

Nathaniel promptly buries his face into the pillow, again, and lets out another scream. While still ignoring his awkward and inconvenient half-boner that makes itself known.

No. Nononono. Nope.

He’s not going to think about it. He’s not.

He didn’t just dream—again—of his friend. He didn’t dream of—of kissing—

Ugh, he can’t even think about it…! If he does, it’ll make it all the more real!

Stupid stupid stupid. Stupid brain and stupid dreams and. And stupid Marc for being so pretty and having such nice skin and captivating eyes and nice lips—honestly, who gave him the right to be so gorgeous and sweet and funny and talented and—

Oh.

Oh no.

No. Nope. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t.

But his heart was still racing, and his breaths are still ragged, and his chest felt full to bursting with butterflies.

Every time Nathaniel closed his eyes, now, he saw Marc. Marc’s hair and eyes and neck and lips and—

Fuck.

This…This wasn’t just a fluke.

It wasn’t just a dumb dream.

His mind wasn’t playing tricks on him for laughs.

He’s…He likes Marc.

Not just like Marc, either. Nathaniel wanted to bury his head in Marc’s lap, and have Marc play with his hair, and have Marc smile at him like he was the only person around, and have Marc talk to him sweetly and familiarly, and even have Marc kiss him.

Those were all…very specific things, very specific scenarios, and very specific feelings. And none of those could be a—a fluke, or, or his brain just playing tricks on him.

Nathaniel’s had crushes before. His most recent one was on Marinette six months ago.

And even still, he never dreamed of her. Daydreamed, yes. Doodled her in his sketchbook, certainly.

But the farthest he’s ever gotten was thinking of holding her hand, or having her smile at him sweetly, or saving her as a superhero from bad guys.

Nothing ever so…realistic. Domestic. Magical. Sickeningly lovestruck.

Nathaniel didn’t just like Marc, he realized. Like any old crush of his from the past.

Nathaniel loved him.

And that was both elating and absolutely terrifying.

- - - - -

“I must be dreaming, or,

Pinch me to waking,

So undeniably yours,

As long as I’m losing it so completely…”

- - - - -

[authorialarcanist]

Gracidea Blossom Chapter 6: Luxuriating Lotad & Zealous Zubat

(Pokémon Diamond, Pearl, & Platinum x Little Busters!)

Mirror Links: AO3, Pokécommunity, Spacebattles

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Previous - Next

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The next morning sees Rin, Riki, Masato, and Kengo making their way through Oreburgh’s western outskirts. Heavy gray skies shadow the town, and along with the lack of noise coming from the mines, they lend the atmosphere of a city deep in slumber.

When the childhood friends had gathered in the Pokémon Center’s lobby for breakfast, Kyousuke had begged off, citing the need to clear out the blockage they’d encountered under Mt. Coronet.

“You guys should go on ahead. I can catch up when I’m done, so there’s no point waiting for me.”

As such, it’s still fairly early when the four pass the last couple of buildings and ascend a small hill to reach the mountainside walling Oreburgh off from the west. Long ago, travelers looking to reach the easternmost areas of Sinnoh had to detour up Route 206 and swing around Eterna Forest and Floaroma Town to get around the mountains that cradle the mining city. However, when Jubilife City was first built, miners were called in from Oreburgh to help carve the city’s foundation out of the mountain that once sat in its place. On the way, they wound up digging a tunnel through the rock that cut them off from Route 203, creating an easy path east and connecting them to what would become one of Sinnoh’s most bustling cities. Even now, centuries later, the foot traffic through what became known as Oreburgh Gate allows the city to maintain some economic relevance despite the fall of the mines.

The cave itself is much more straightforward than Mt. Coronet. Being a human creation rather than a natural cave system, the walls and floor are relatively smooth, if a little worn out from generations of travelers passing through. What’s more, the path is fairly straight, leading right from one side of the mountain to the other without major detours.

There aren’t many Pokémon in the Gate, either; aside from the occasional confused Psyduck wandering in, the tunnel’s only inhabitants are the Geodude and Zubat that make every cave from here all the way to Hoenn their home. It’d be child’s play to get through the tunnel without any ruckus.

So, naturally, the muscle idiots decide this is the perfect opportunity for some training.

Kengo clears his throat. “It’s important to remember that wild Pokémon won’t always be polite and fight you one on one. If you disturb their nests by accident, many will be like those Clefairy yesterday and attack en masse. If you want to deal with their teamwork, you need to know how to work together, yourselves.”

“Didn’t we do that already?” Rin cocks her head. “Riki and Kyousuke and I all fought together in Mt. Coronet.”

“Sure,” Masato replies, “But in the end, each of you was just fighting half of the Clefairy on your own.”

Kengo nods. “It may as well have been three separate battles, for how little you interacted. There’s a difference between fighting together, and fighting together.If you’re comfortable working as a team with somebody, and know how to build on their moves, then you can combine your strength and handle numerically or statistically superior opponents.”

Riki hums and cups his chin. “So… Do you two fight like that, then?”

Masato barks a laugh. “Not a chance! I’m not letting Kengo see my techniques until I can use them against him!”

“Hmph. Like you have any ‘techniques’ to speak of.” Kengo scoffs. “Your idea of a special move is to just try hitting me twice as hard.”

“What!” Masato’s eyes bug out. “How did you guess my secret weapon? Nooooo! Now I have to hit you fourtimes as hard! No, eight!”

“I didn’t think you could count that high. Be careful what you try to do with that brain, or you might break something.”

“Maybe you should stop worrying about me, and start counting your chances of winning! I’ll show you—“

“Both of you, shut UP!” Rin jumps in between the two idiots, kicking at them both and causing them to stumble. “I’m not going to fight all of the wild Pokémon because of you morons again!”

“Guh…” Kengo closes his eyes in shame at the reminder. He coughs. “…R-right. Anyways, as I was saying, you and Riki should practice fighting as a pair. You’ll be able to accomplish more if you know how to react to each other’s moves.”

“Wait…” Riki groans. “You don’t mean…”

“That’s right!” Masato grins and jabs his thumb at an innocent family of Zubat minding their own business on the ceiling not far away. They’re small, blue bat Pokémon with large purple wings and ears, wide fanged mouths, and no eyes. “Kyousuke asked us to train you, so we’re training you - and the best training is experience! Get battling!”

“I don’t want to!” Rin glares at Masato, refusing to give an inch.

“Shouldn’t we keep moving? Didn’t we have enough interruptions yesterday,” Riki sighs.

“I saw this coming, and prepared accordingly. Rin?” Kengo pulls a metal can of Pokémon food out of a pocket in his robe. “If you and Riki successfully pull off a team attack, I’ll give you this Mon Petit. It's Santa's favorite, right?”

“We’re doing it! Riki, let’s go!” Rin enthusiastically flings a Pokéball at the path in front of her, releasing Lennon. “Use Ember!” The Litten spits several small gouts of flame straight up, and the Zubat scatter. One wobbles this way and that, before it gets its bearings and screeches at Rin.

Wordlessly, Rin points her thumb at Riki. Sorry. It’s for a good cause.

Riki takes a step back, and the bat Pokémon swivels to face him. He shudders suddenly, and freezes in place as the Zubat exudes the impression of a probing stare. “Wh- come on! You don’t even have eyes!”

“There’s no choice but to fight, Riki! You have to defend yourself!” Rin eggs him on.

“Yeah, Riki!” Masato echoes Rin with a shit-eating grin. “Defend yourself!”

“Shut up!” Rin doesn’t miss a beat, and commands Lennon to jump out of the way of a Zubat as it swoops in to take a bite.

“Shouldn’t I be defending against you…?” Still, Riki sends out his Turtwig and quickly has it try to tackle any Pokémon that get close enough to attack. Unfortunately, the turtle is too slow to provide much deterrent, and the bats continue to dive bomb it with impunity.

“Ember! Ember, Lennon!” Rin’s Pokémon scatters flames this way and that, making up for the Zubats’ agility by spreading its attacks too wide to fully dodge. The Pokémon attacking Lennon finally give up, flying away to lick their wounds. “Use Scratch!” Lennon pounces at one of the Zubat fluttering around Terra, and quickly the enemies have all fled.

Rin turns to Kengo with shining eyes. “There! We won, now give me the Mon Petit!”

*BZZZZZZ!* A harsh buzzing sound makes her jump a foot in the air. She whirls around, glaring this way and that, until she sees Masato holding his Pokégear with the attitude of the cat Pokémon that just caught the canary.

“That wasn’t teamwork, Rin.” Kengo sighs.

“What!” Rin waves her hands wildly. “But Riki drew their attention while I beat them! That’s teamwork!”

“Usually, your wall should be intentionally filling that role.” Kengo pockets the can of cat food, and Rin’s outstretched hand goes limp. “Try again.”

…

The next attempt is a round rock Pokémon with two arms called Geodude lying on the side of the path, which Terra and Lennon slowly whittle down.

“Now, Lennon! Finish it off!”

“Pokéball, go!”

Riki pitches a Pokéball at the Geodude right as Lennon dives for center mass, and it smacks the Litten in the head. By the time Rin’s done yelling at Riki, the Geodude has merrily rolled away.

*BZZZZZT!* Rin yelps and aims a roundhouse kick at Masato, only to lose her balance and fall in a heap. Kengo looks on impassively. “Try again.”

…

A Psyduck shudders in fear as Terra barrels towards it, only for an Ember attack to engulf both Pokémon from behind.

“A flaming tackle! Woah, did I just invent a new move? This must be the pinnacle of team attacks!”

*BZZZRRRZZZRRRZZZT!* “Eep!” Rin windmills her arms and topples over backwards. She turns and hisses at the muscle idiots, but Kengo doesn’t react.

“Try again.”

…

Rin and Riki face off against the Geodude from before, this time with friends. She gives Riki a slight nod, which he returns.

“Now! Santa, use Confusion!” As the bell Pokémon starts ringing, a Geodude begins to roll around wildly and smack into its companions.

“Terra, Absorb!” The tiny turtle Pokémon waddles into the din and leeches energy from the distracted rock Pokémon, giddy despite the effort of using energy attacks. Its jaw snaps back suddenly as a thrown rock interrupts its feast, and the original Geodude advances on it menacingly… But Santa sneaks up and startles the Geodude with a sneak attack, throwing it off balance and letting Terra’s tackle send it backwards into a pool of water with a splash.

Wait…

Water?

Rin glances around, noticing an array of cracked boulders, small ledges, and earthy ramps around her. In front of her is a long, wide pool of cloudy water.

Riki’s voice echoes next to her. “When did we even getdown here?”

Rin shrugs, and the two stand for a moment and watch the ripples in the pool. The ripples get fainter… and then stronger…? The friends dive to either side as their opponent is spat back out of the water and ricochets off the wall behind where they were standing.

They get up and see a dark blue catfish Pokémon with a yellow mark like a ‘W’ on its forehead, long yellow whiskers, and light blue lips stretched into a wide frown peering out of the water at them. They peer back. It’s a Whiscash, and it doesn’t look very happy to be here.

Terra waddles up to it, and tries an Absorb.

…Nope, not happy at all.

“AAAUGH!” Rin and Riki scramble every which way as the Whiscash spits pulsing blasts of water at them. Terra gets knocked out in a single hit from one of its attacks, and Rin has to tackle Riki out of the way of a Water Pulse when he pauses to withdraw it. The Whiscash starts thrashing around more and more, and the ground shakes all around Rin as she pulls Riki by the hand back up the rocky stairs that led them down from the main tunnel.

The two collapse once they’re back up on the ground floor of Oreburgh Gate, and the earthquake slowly subsides.

“We,” Riki pants, “are never, doing that again.”

Rin starts to nod, before realizing something and tensing up. She glances here and there, whole body coiled like a spring, but the expected noise never comes. After a minute, she starts to relax and pushes herself to her feet.

*WEEE-OOO-WEEE-OOO-WEEE-OOO!*

…

”Okay, I said I was sorry! I got carried away! Now can I please have my Pokégear back,” Masato wheedles as the group wanders the tunnel. Santa clutches the apparatus in its tendrils, jingling merrily as it hops along with its new toy.

“No! I refuse!” Rin shakes her head vigorously. “Actually… Santa, break it!”

“Noooooo! Not my calls from Riki!” Masato shouts out in despair as the Chingling glances at his Pokégear quizzically and raises it above its head, ready to slam its rope down.

“Ahem.” Kengo catches Rin’s attention and waves the can of Mon Petit conspicuously.

“…”

“…”

“…Fine. Santa, give.” Rin hangs her head in defeat, and her Pokémon relaxes its grip so that Masato can snatch his Pokégear back. He cradles it lovingly.

Kengo nods in approval. “Try—“

Rin explodes. “I getit, okay?”

…

Scree! Scree! Several Zubat back and forth across the path in front of the group. One flies closer and… somehow… fixes Rin with an accusing glare. Several red, angry scratches decorate its wings and back.

Rin can’t help but be impressed by the hostility and determination radiating from the bat. “Woah! Even after all that, you came back for revenge? You’re amazing!” She scratches her chin, searching for a memory of learning something that’s on the tip of her tongue. Something about a banished ambassador… Ah, that’s it! She smacks a fist into her open palm, like a judge bringing down his gavel. “I’ll call you… Michizane!”

“Is this really the time, Rin?” Riki implores her, voice dripping with exasperation, but as Michizane wheels around for a divebomb, it feels like there’s a live wire humming in Rin’s veins.

“Riki, follow my lead!” Rin quickly hops out of the way of the lead Zubat’s dive, even as she calls for Santa to do the same. Before she can retaliate, the others swoop in to pester the Chingling, flying back out of the way any time it gets its footing enough to lash out with its ropes. “Ignore Michizane, we need to deal with his friends first!” Her attention flits back to Santa. “Use Confusion!”

A Zubat loses its bearings and smacks into the wall, another goes down under a thrown rock from Riki’s Bonsly, but Michizane just keeps dodging around their attacks and coming back for more. Finally, as the last of its backup goes down, the Zubat makes a mistake - it nearly smacks into its falling comrade and pauses, fluttering in place for a moment as it gets its bearings. “Riki, now!” At Rin’s signal, Riki shouts his own command and one of Sly’s thrown rocks hits Michizane right in the wing. The Zubat falls, finally catching itself a foot from the ground.

“Santa! Use Wrap!” Before Michizane can regain its altitude, Santa grabs it with its ropes and brings them down hard, slamming the Zubat against the ground. It brings the Zubat down once, twice, then finally releases it as the bat Pokémon’s thrashing becomes too much to handle. It’s at that moment that Rin chucks a Pokéball with a cry. Even dazed, Michizane executes an aileron roll to the right… But Rin’s throw was off, as usual, and the Zubat winds up dodging right into the wild ball’s path.

The Pokéball drops to the ground. It shakes once…

Twice…

…and bursts open, the top half cracking off of the hinge in the process. Michizane flutters up unsteadily, skewing first to the right, then to the left, and then it opens its mouth and a burst of high-frequency vibrations forces Rin to curl up and clamp her hands over her ears. By the time the sound stops and she straightens back up, the Zubat has fled.

Mission Failed…

As Rin’s hearing returns, she makes out the tail end of Riki mumbling “…sure that wasn’t the original mission…” Did she say that out loud? Then, a rhythmic sound of two hands slapping together.

Kengo is clapping. “You did it, you two. You worked together!”

“Huh?” Rin shakes her head to clear the fog from it.

“You know, the whole reason you were doing this?” Masato taps the side of his head. “You sure I’m the idiot here?”

“Uh…Oh! Right!” Rin finally snaps out of her daze, and greedily snatches the Mon Petit from Kengo’s hand when he offers it. Lennon’s going to love this! “Mission Complete!”

She ignores the fond shake of Riki’s head as she whirls back towards the exit, prize in hand, and triumphantly strides towardsoh whoops that’s the wall.

Ok, so maybe her head’s still spinning a little.

———

Half an hour later, Rin’s back in top form. The group decided to take a break while she recovered from the Supersonic, a consideration she’s silently grateful for, but now they’ve all picked themselves back up and are ready to go.

Thankfully, they’ve made enough progress during Rin’s training that it’s only a couple minutes’ walk before the exit comes into sight.

Less luckily, it’s accompanied by the rushing sound of heavy rain. It’s coming down hard enough that for a puddle to start to leak into the tunnel, rippling and splashing water every which way from the raindrops hammering on it outside.

Kengo furrows his brow. “It wasn’t supposed to start raining this early, was it?”

Riki scratches his chin. “I mean… it isalready eleven, after all that ruckus. What do you think, should we wait it out?”

“Nah,” Masato replies, shaking his head. “Weather report said it was supposed to go on all day.”

“I don’t want to run all the way to Jubilife in that…” Rin gives the exitway a guarded look.

“Wait!” Riki snaps his fingers. “We packed an umbrella, I’m sureI remember that on the list!” He pulls off his backpack and rummages through it. “Come on, you guys help me look!”

After a minute searching, Rin finds it hidden in a corner of her own backpack. She pulls the umbrella out, and with a flourish it pops open to its full width.

“All right, Riki, Rin! I knew we could count on the two of you!” Masato shoots them a thumbs up.

Rin glances up at the umbrella.

She glances at Riki, Masato, and Kengo in turn.

She looks at the umbrella again.

A moment later, the issue sinks in for the others, too.

“I guess we… packed anumbrella, huh…” Riki chuckles nervously for a moment before giving up and falling into a sigh.

“You know, Riki… Sometimes, you’re almost as bad as them,” Rin says.

“Ouch. Harsh.” Kengo pats Riki on the back consolingly.

“That means you’re one of us, now! Come on, Riki! Let’s be muscle buddies!”

“No, no, no…” Riki shakes his head rapidly. “I don’t think I’m quite that far gone yet…”

“Aw, Riki rejected me…” Masato hangs his head. “Ah, well! Hey, Kengo!”

“Why do I have the feeling I know what you’re going to propose…” Kengo regards his friend suspiciously.

“Let’s race! First one to get out of the rain wins!”

“Hmph. Well, with just the one umbrella, I suppose we don’t have a better choice.” Kengo starts stretching to warm up. “Good luck, you two.”

“Woah, woah, wait!” Riki waves his hands in front of him. “Are you two serious?”

Rin shakes her head. “Those two are crazy, Riki. You should have given up by now.”

“Eh.” Masato shrugs. “I’ll own it. Now let’s go!” With those words, he and Kengo burst into a run, splashing water behind them as they reach the puddle and vanish into the rain.

After a minute, Rin speaks up. “Well, let’s get moving.”

“I… they…” Riki sighs, and offers her the umbrella. “…Yeah, alright.”

Riki withdraws Sly and, after a moment’s contemplation, sends out Terra so she can enjoy the rain. Santa hops up onto Rin’s shoulder, and she takes a moment to find the position where the umbrella will offer the most protection. And then the two step out into Route 203.

The rain hammers against their umbrella with a sound like a never-ending drumroll. Rin tries to slip even closer to the middle, but her shoulder still gets wet where she’s not fully protected. The spray of water coming down and mist splashing up from puddles already obscures the path forward enough that she can’t see where Masato and Kengo have gone. It hardly takes two steps before the wetness of the grass soaks through her shoes and socks.

Still, bit by bit, she grows used to it. There’s something peaceful in the sound of the rain, and as she watches Terra venture out cautiously at first, then begin to frolic in the rain, Rin can’t help but smile. Her awareness expands, and she begins to notice the droplets running down the leaves of trees, the swaying of the tall grass around her legs, the way some Pokémon shelter from the rain and others revel in it.

As she and Riki start to descend the route’s rolling hills, Rin notices a family of Shinx curled up under a tree, huddled around their Luxray mother for warmth. One of the small, light blue kittens sticks its paw out from their shelter and yanks it back upon contact with the rain, only to poke it back out in curiosity a moment later. A short ways further, and the two pass a small pond full of Goldeen and Magikarp bobbing up to the surface, chasing ripples left by the rain. Another few minutes later, and Rin startles Riki by coming to a sudden stop.

“What is it?”

“Look.” She points at a crowd of what looks like lilypads standing in the rain. Looking closer, they’re mounted on the backs of small blue Pokémon with six legs each and short yellow bills. “It’s pretty rare to see so many Lotad at once here.”

“Oh…” Riki’s gaze follows Rin’s for a moment, watching one Lotad snap playfully at the rain. Water builds up in the leafy rain dish on its back, creating something like a miniature pond of its own. Rin wonders whether smaller Pokémon could live in it for a moment, before Riki’s voice snaps her back to reality. “Do… you think something’s wrong?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, it’s unusually heavy rain, and if there are more Lotad than there should be…”

Rin cocks her head. She’d just meant to point out something cute.

Riki shrugs. “…Anyways, we should get moving again. I just want to get out of this rain…”

Rin shoots one last glance back at the family of Lotad, but she doesn’t really have a choice but to follow the umbrella. As she and Riki reach the end of the hills and cross onto a short concrete path leading the way, she doesn’t bother pointing out any of the other Pokémon she notices in the rain.

Soon, they arrive at a small stairway leading up onto a large stone foundation. This is what’s left of the mountain that once stood in place of Jubilife City, and stepping onto it marks entry into the city limits. The change is incredibly sudden; one moment they’re walking between grass and trees, and the next they’re flanked by businesses and skyscrapers. Jubilife City is almost entirely unlike Hearthome, from the smooth grey tiles that make up the city floor to the crush of strangers hurrying this way and that even in the rain.

Rin shrinks a little closer to Riki under the umbrella as they pass.

“We need to find someplace to get in from the rain.” Riki glances around, looking from building to building.

After another minute of walking, Rin notices the sound of smooth jazz coming from a fancy café on the side of the street, with a covered patio. With one last, desperate rush, she and Riki make their way under the awning, where they can finally fold up their umbrella without getting drenched.

Once Rin is done wringing out her ponytail, she relaxes enough to glance around the café. Leafy potted plants are scattered around the patio, with flowers visible in the windows of the building proper. In the center of the patio is a circular stage, with a jazz band playing their hearts out atop it. The café’s glass double doors are open in order to let the music in, revealing several scattered tables and a bar. Riki and Rin don’t seem to be the only ones to have the idea of using the restaraunt as an escape; the café is quite crowded. There are several trainers sitting with their Pokémon at their tables, occasionally hand-feeding them bits of treats. A girl in a beige sweater is nursing a mug of some steaming beverage at the bar. And… are those Masato and Kengo, sitting at a table by the door with soaked hair?

Masato grins and waves them over. “Glad you found us!”

“Don’t worry,” Kengo adds, “We told them we were expecting a party of five.”

Riki and Rin pick their way across the patio to their friends.

“You said a party of five,” Riki inquires. “Does that mean you know how Kyousuke’s doing?”

Kengo nods. “We called him once we got here; he’s on his way.”

“We were just debating calling you to tell you where to find us, but it looks like you wound up here on your own!”

“Mhm,” Riki replies. “It seemed like the first building that was expecting people to just walk in out of the rain.”

“Yeah, that’s why we picked it too,” Kengo concurs. “So how was the walk?”

“Wet,” Riki says.

At the same time, Rin replies, “It was nice.”

“Oh?”

“There were lots of Pokémon out in the rain,” Rin continues. “They looked happy.”

“I see.” Kengo smiles gently for a moment, before their conversation is interrupted by a muffled sonic boom. Everyone looks out the window to see a Garchomp skid to a stop outside the café. Kyousuke clambers down from its back and withdraws it before striding confidently into the restaurant.

“Yo.” He waves lazily as he approaches the Little Busters’ table. “I take it everything went well?”

Masato nods and jabs his thumb at Riki and Rin. “Yup. Even got some training in for these two!”

The pair in question share a glance, concurring that they’ll never speak of the Whiscash incident.

“That’s great,” Kyousuke exclaims with a boyish grin. He sits down, scattering rainwater everywhere with his careless movement. “Now that I’m here, let’s order lunch! I’m starving!”

“Good idea. Waiter!” Kengo flags down a waiter, and they order their food before returning to the conversation.

“So… Did everything go alright with the Coronet path?” Riki glances at Kyousuke curiously.

“Oh, yeah, it just took a couple Rock Smashes and it was good as new!”

Riki just sighs at the reminder of their pointless detour.

“Honestly,” Kyousuke continues, “The hardest part of this whole expedition was just getting Irwin to turn corners. Garchomp don’t exactly have the best handling at top speed.”

The conversation continues in this manner as they wait for their food, skimming from small talk to small talk. Eventually, the band finishes their current song and switches over to a jazzy arrangement of the music that plays in Pokémarts around the island chain.

(“Even in all this crazy rain, we promise our music will drive you insane! Now here’s a song I’m sure you all find familiar - with our own twist!”)

Around that time, the girl at the counter finishes her drink and, after what looks like a short conversation with one of the employees, gets up to leave. She weaves between crowded tables, trying to reach the door, but just as she nears Rin’s table, she comes face to face with a waiter and stumbles back to avoid a collision.

“Wah—!” She windmills her arms for a moment as she topples backwards. Riki jumps up to try and help, but instead of catching her he just winds up cushioning her fall as her back slams into him.

“Ow…” He rubs his head before getting up. “You alright?”

“Hm?” The girl rises to her feet, and Rin shrinks a little in her seat as the stranger’s gaze passes over her. Her beige sweatshirt is a little ruffled from the fall, but otherwise she looks okay. She has strawberry blonde hair tied up by a star-shaped ornament with a trailing red ribbon on each side. Her eyes are blue, and there’s something oddly familiar in their expression, something that Rin can’t quite place… After a moment, the girl continues. “Oh. Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry for the trouble…” She bows an apology before stepping around their table and making her exit. When Rin turns back to the others, she sees Riki looking after where the girl left with a pensive expression.

Before she can ask, Kyousuke interrupts her thought. “Finally!” Rin glances at the table and sees that their food has arrived; the waiter who was nearly in the collision must have been bringing it to them. “Come on, let’s eat!”

Rin shrugs, and digs in. It probably wasn’t important.

[bcbdrums]

What Is True

FFn link --> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13666708/1/What-Is-True

For @drakgoprompts no. 5, “Emotion Sickness Aftermath.”

Also inspired by @cocoa-at-night‘s answer to the prompt with her lovely art for the prompt!  Please look at it first!!!

-----------------------

Shego rolled over in bed again, tossing her hair carelessly. She didn't know how many times she had rolled over, but it was enough to now be annoying her as much as the inability to sleep.

She had barely slept for three days, since the incident with the mood-altering device that had inadvertently fallen on her during the most recent caper. Her wild memories of the events that had occurred kept playing in her mind on an endless sequential repeat, the way Holiday Tale did on Christmas Day each year on that one cable channel. She couldn't stop thinking about how she had been fully invested in her actions, every step of the way...

It frightened her. She had been unable to stop crying over a broken nail. And then she was mad at Drakken for not caring. Until she wasn't. Until she wanted nothing more than for him to put his arms around her. And then she cried because he wasn't spending all of his attention on her. And then the sadness turned to rage.

The scariest thing was...she could still access the emotions if she tried. She could feel the sadness, the anger, and...the...

What did she call the feeling she'd spent most of the day having toward Drakken? It wasn't lust. It wasn't a crush. It was something else... Something...deeper, that combined elements of the two.

It wasn't love. It couldn't be love... What was love anyway? She'd never been in love. It couldn't be love...

She rolled over again, and then finally sat up, tossing her hair back in frustration. She reached behind her neck and touched the aching, stinging spot where the little device had been.

Drakken had moved on. He set the henchmen to cleaning the lab that had been ruined by melted snow, and was off elsewhere in the lair working on something smaller until the lab was back to operational conditions. When Shego came out of her room to eat or to see if there was anything new planned, he acted almost as if nothing had happened. He was content to chalk the situation up to the technology and let it go.

But Shego couldn't.

She got out of bed and after dressing, stormed through the halls in search of Drakken. She wasn't entirely sure why she felt compelled to talk to him, but she did know that she wouldn't be able to sleep that night unless something changed.

She found him in the den, sitting behind his desk while a fire roared in the fireplace. He was flipping through a brochure for the upcoming villain convention and circling something on the current page.

"Drakken!"

He dropped his pen and looked up, startled. For once he didn't call out or look annoyed. But Shego was too tired and too riled up from her own stress to notice.

"Why didn't you take advantage of me!"

Drakken's eyes widened and he sank back in his chair, as if trying to disappear. Shego's hand flew to her mouth. She hadn't planned to say those words... They just came out. She stared at Drakken, who stared back, equally at a loss.

"Wh-what?" Drakken asked in a meek voice.

Shego's heart was pounding. But she couldn't take it back...

"Y-you heard me," she said shakily, and then, with more assurance, "Answer the question."

Drakken's shock turned into affront. "That...that would have been wrong, Shego!"

Shego's jaw slowly dropped as he began to ramble about the morals his mother taught him, his uncertainty over her out of character behavior, and how really, he just wanted to enact his plan. The EMA was the perfect beginning to his eventual global domination...

Shego shook her head and stepped closer as he went on, gesticulating wildly as he bemoaned the recent failure due to Kim Possible's unexpected appearance.

"So, so let me get this straight," she interrupted, setting her hands on his desk and leaning forward. "Your plan was more interesting than a beautiful woman throwing herself at you? What are you...are you gay, or impotent, or something?"

Drakken's face then looked like she'd never seen. His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed, his lips pursed, and his cheeks blushing nearly purple as he seemed unable to decide which emotion to respond with. But she held her ground, glaring at him as she waited for an answer.

And then it suddenly hit her... What answer, exactly, was she hoping for?

"No!" Drakken burst out, deciding apparently on anger. "I was concentrating on trying to cause mass chaos and destruction that would lead to my ruling the world! You— You...wait," he slowed down, his expression suddenly growing nervous. "Did you...want me to...make a move?"

Shego stood up suddenly as her face flushed crimson.

"No!" she spat back before any other thought dared enter her head. "If you had you wouldn't be alive to have this conversation."

Drakken's eyes flashed in fear as he leaned back further, pushing the chair slightly away from the desk. And then his expression fell back to confusion as he peered at her. Confusion, and caution. He moved his hands to his lap and twiddled his thumbs.

Shego sighed. "I'm just...surprised, I guess. Most men would have taken advantage of the situation."

Drakken's expression hardened slightly. "I'm a gentleman, Shego."

Shego looked at him for anything but honesty, but...that's all there was in his eyes. And she was no closer to understanding her own feelings about everything.

As a silence grew between them, Drakken looked more and more like he wanted to say something. Sudden fear over what it might be propelled her speak again.

"Thanks. For...being a gentleman. Guess I'll stick around," she said with a small laugh, hoping that would be enough explanation for her interrupting his evening.

But it still gave her no further answers about why she'd enjoyed kissing him in that photo booth...and why the memory was still positive. Shouldn't it disgust her?

She touched the sore spot on her neck as her gaze drifted to the fire as she worried about why she couldn't get that day out of her mind. And why she kept finding herself wondering why he didn't kiss her back... Why he just seemed to tolerate her romantic advances...

"Is your neck still hurting where that...thing was on you?" Drakken asked.

Shego blinked back into focus and realized she was still touching her neck.

"Oh. Yeah."

Drakken looked like he wanted to say something again. Shego's fingers brushed a spot on her neck that stung, and she winced.

"Uhm. Could you...look at it? I can't see it really well with the mirror."

Drakken's brow rose. He left the chair and approached her silently, cautiously lifting a hand. She spun around and pushed her hair over right shoulder, suddenly feeling a bit unsteady on her feet. Or was her stomach turning over? Or both...

"Ah..." Drakken said. She felt his fingers at the edge of her collar.

"What?"

"Could you...move your collar down somehow? The device was partially beneath it."

Shego felt her stomach turn over again as she unzipped the front of her suit. She suddenly, inexplicably felt like her legs wouldn't hold her up.

"Hold on, uh...can we sit down?" she said while moving to do so, dropping on her knees in front of the fireplace.

"Ah..." Drakken said, following her down. He sat behind her, and Shego stiffened slightly as she felt his hand gently touch her left arm, just above her elbow. She felt her collar pulled down very slightly with his other hand, the garment moving freely now that her suit was undone.

Drakken didn't make a sound as he apparently looked at the injured spot on her neck. The silence made Shego even more uneasy.

"Is it bad?" she asked.

"It...yes," Drakken said plainly. Shego's brow shot up, and she listened as he described the wound. "You remember the device was round and had those little...clamps, to anchor into the victim?"

"Yes..." Shego said, wondering at his choice of the last word.

"There is bleeding beneath the skin where each clamp was... And you have a bad electrical burn in the center, and more subcutaneous bleeding."

His gloved fingers ghosted over the pained spot, and then vanished.

Shego sighed as her thoughts zeroed in on one thing for once that night. He hadn't exactly called her a victim. But it's what she had been... A technology they didn't understand driving her...and leaving her mind so mixed up now it was gone, she didn't know what was true anymore.

Except...for one thing. There was one thing she could still be sure of.

"Dr. D.?" she said, her gaze dropping to her lap without focus. She tugged on the ends of her hair lightly.

"Yes...Shego?"

"Thanks...for being a gentleman."

"Shego... I would never dream of...of..."

He sounded anxious as his words trailed off. She thought back to well over a year before, when he had put her under mind control for an experiment and made a mockery of her throughout the experience. But of all the things he had done then...what stood out must was what he hadn't done.

Her heart was racing. No matter what that strange mood-altering device had done to her...and know matter how mixed up she was... She knew she could always be sure of him.

His hand was still inexplicably resting on her left arm. Why had he put it there? She crossed her arms and set the fingers of her right hand lightly over his.

"Dr. D. I know."

[iguessihavemore]

TD Garden Chap.2: Not Your Garden Variety Pt.2

I wanted to finish off this episode with this part, but I’m having trouble with a few scenes after what I have here, along with the plethora of shit going on lately that I’m guessing you can imagine. So I decided to make this a 2/3 instead. I feel like it gives a pretty good idea of what everybody is running off to do anyway, so I hope you enjoy it for now!

The host produced two folded pieces of paper from his back pocket, holding them out to the mass of teens in front of him. “Y’all ready for a little island/garden scavenger hunt-”

“IT’S CHALLENGE TIMEeEeE!!!” Jackson screeched, lunging forward and ripping both from him. Chris held his hands up palm-open at the boy.

Rosie rolled up one of her boxy sleeves. “Hey now-” She began lightly.

Nadine waved at her to stay, dancing forward instead. After a few quick steps, Nadine stretched over on one foot until she was nearly horizontal. The sudden image of her face at his chest made Jackson jump, and she took the opportunity to pluck one of the lists from him.

“Hrmph!” He grunted, tearing the remaining one open. Both teams leaned into their respective paper.

A noticeable rift was between the Cheshire Queens and Hare Hatters now, and the only ones within it were the conjoined twins. They both turned a head to a team, then at each other over their shared shoulder. Avery and Erika whispered until they reached a conclusion, opting to sidle towards the Queens.

Chris cleared his throat and began to explain what they were reading. “Both teams have to find twelve roses, then an additional double-headed rose. So thirteen in all.” A few eyes flicked towards the twins. “After that, you’ll see that there are a bunch of taped-on flower names. You only have to pick four.” The teens sighed in relief- finding upwards of twenty things hadn’t sounded like much fun.

“And you’re going to want to choose wisely. Once you collect all your flowers, you need to make a bouquet with them. It needs to have a theme, and it needs to not look like GARBAGE. Just saying that because I want you all to know that I don’t have faith in any of you, so just ‘not bad’ will suffice. The team that has the nicer bouquet may be able to win, even if it’s incomplete. However, your team can only end the challenge if you’ve collected all of your flowers.” The host explained.

Pathetically, Rosie whined, “So all this means…. when we find them, we HAVE to p- p- p- p- pick them…?”

“...Yeeeaaahhh…” Chris drawled blandly.

“Oh, Chris, I can’t-!” Rosie cried out.

“Ah-ah!” Chris harshly waved off her outburst. Her bottom lip quivered agape, but she opted to start fretfully biting her nails instead.

“Now, with my flawless photographic memory, we dumped the stuff…” Chris muttered under his breath, squinting into the distance with his hands bordering his face. Lucas perked up out of his pouting long enough to curiously come up behind him, twisting the host a few inches to the side. “Right there!” Chris immediately said, motioning in that direction with his hands like an aircraft marshall. Lucas put his fists on his hips proudly.

“Go down that way, and you’ll find all the supplies you’ll need for making a bouquet. It’s also where we threw all your luggage.”

Jackson snapped his head up from reading the list. His knees started to bob as he listened more intently.

“And that’s all you really need to know-” Chris began to conclude, prompting Jackson to jump up and tear towards where they were directed.

The action alone set an uneasy energy through the rest, impatiently eying Chris. He gave an irritated sigh and a short nod, and the tense batch of teens took off, just itching to begin this game.

All but one, that is.

“Wh- hey! What are you all doing!?” Roger yelled, throwing his hands up. “You’re going the wrong way!”

“Come on Roger, catch up!” Jennifer impatiently ordered him.

“But- but- don’t we need roses? There was a bush full of them but- they’re in the other direction!!” He was just about screaming to be heard as the distance between him and the others grew larger, but what he said stopped them in their tracks.

Within seconds, Paulie swiveled on her heel and rushed backwards, toothily grinning. She shoved the team scepter into the muscular crook of Tony’s arm as she passed. He blinked down at it.

A few members of the Hare Hatters were up to the task, but Cameron was the one who broke into a run for it first. “I got this!” She cockily assured the rest. With a person from each team on it, most of them went back to barreling towards the tools and luggage.

Roger only watched the girls go past him. “I don’t-” He huffed, confused and irritated. “Which way are we going, then!? Why do we even need to run-” 

Amelia jogged back for him. Her voice even more feathery than usual, she told him, “Paulie’s going to get the flowers. Come on Roger, let’s go get our stuff!” She flashed a smile at him and took his hand in hers.

“AH UH oh,” Roger failed to object, probably unsure if he wanted to, and simply allowed her to lead him into running with the others.

They passed in front of both sets of sisters: the twins, who were the only ones who opted to walk, and Stella and Marina, who were jogging lightly side-by-side. Stella watched after them, eyes half-lidded. “REAL dumb.”

*The Shed: Stella and Marina* The adopted sisters sat on either side of the bench. Stella was slumped over, idly toying with a trowel, while Marina addressed the camera. “Too many people assume that Stella isn’t smart because she can’t communicate well. But that isn’t the case at all! She’s full of good thoughts and ideas.”

She looked at her sister. “People like Roger who are able to process and communicate neurotyically but can’t… do a lot with it?” She bashfully rose a brow, trying not to say ‘dumb.’ “Might make Stella a bit jealous.” *End* *III*

Cameron and Paulie were heading full-speed towards the winner’s cabin. Paulie’s lime-colored coils bounced behind her, and Cameron’s plum hair hopped around her face, the green tips flying wildly. They shared a competitive smile as they kept pace with one another, a playful edge to their respective dusty red and dark pink eyes.

When they came to the bush, they wasted no time in circling it and grabbing their roses, getting a little nicked by the thorns in the process. Paulie jumped away from it first, whirling around pridefully. “First!”

“Tch, well-” Cameron was prepared to retort, but her final grab for her last rose came up empty. “Wha? Heheh.” She held up a finger to silently ask that Paulie wait. The baker responded by shifting her weight to one foot and putting her empty hand on hip, smirking.

Cameron searched around it a few more times. She stomped up to Paulie suspiciously. “How is it that YOU got twelve roses and I got all the way up to eleven, but there aren’t ANY more left?”

Paulie shrugged. “Man, I don’t know, you see that I only got a dozen!”

Cameron counted them and deflated. “Awfully strange it only had twenty-three.” She frowned at her own incompletely bundle.

“Probs just a coincidence and not, like, something they planned. It ain’t anybody’s fault how many times the thing tries to reproduce. Or whatever roses are biologically for.” Paulie mused.

“Yeah… but it’s your fault that you’re gonna eat my dust!” Cameron charged off.

“Oh-HO!” The punk gleefully followed suit.

*The Shed: Paulie* “I really only did pick a dozen!” Paulie flashed her now-empty hands forward. She reached behind her back and pulled out her thirteenth rose, giving it a sniff. “Well, a baker’s dozen, but who’s counting?” *End* *III*

Soon enough for the head of the pack, two tables came into view. He rushed by both, completely ignoring them to get to the stacks of bags and suitcases at the end of the clearing. Not that he cared, but the foliage around him consisted mostly of twiggy shrubs and patches of wild flowers.

Jackson located his duffel bag with an excited wheezy noise, immediately lunging for it. 

CLANG

A second too late, his eyes unfocused enough to let him see that he was careening for a metal cage. And then his face ran into it.

“ooOWW!” He seethed, pulling himself up. “What?” He scrambled around the metal frame, trying to get to his stuff until he finally realized it was stuck inside. He found a padlock and yanked it to no avail. “A hostage situation!?”

Jennifer trotted up behind him, followed by Tony, Jupiter in a sweat, and Amelia with Roger. They all understood that their stuff was locked inside the cage without needing to run into it.

Jupiter noticed the other team come up to a second cage, spaced exactly like the tables. “Guess we only get our things when the challenge ends- er- I mean when we win, eh?” They attempted a smile.

“You betcha!” Amelia agreed, freeing Roger from herself. He turned away, crossing his arms to stare only at the sky if not nervously side-eyeing the actress. Amelia addressed Jackson, putting on a worried expression. “Chris will doubtfully let us get anything from there for awhile. Is that okay? No immediate concerns?”

Jackson brushed off his knees. “Nah, I just needed to make sure nobody got their grubby hands on my stuff! Looks like it’s safe- for now…” He suspiciously surveyed the clearing.

“Now,” Jennifer stepped closer. “May I finally get my hands on THIS?” She swiped down and tore their list from his tight grasp. He nervously chuckled and apologized, which Jennifer rolled her eyes at.

At last, the conjoined twins made it to the area. There was still a wide gap between the teams. They could have decided to stay in the middle of that and render themselves utterly useless, but opted to gravitate towards the Hare Hatters this time. They were greeted to Rosie speedily pacing back and forth, panicking out loud. 

Marina and Stella were climbing on the cage; Nadine and Annabelle were examining the array of tools on the table. They were all clearly keeping watch of the nature enthusiast.

“You’re supposed to leave nature as is!” She fretted. “I can’t possibly go against camping 101, rule numero UNO! I WILL FALL APART!”

“Oh, that hasn’t happened yet?” Annabelle lazily quipped.

Marina had been sitting with her eyebrows cinced in thought. Her demeanor brightened and she hopped to the ground, walking over to Rosie. “Rosie, this isn’t camping- this is a garden! It follows different rules than what you’re used to.” She sent a mauve smile up to her, gesturing for her to lower her fingers from her teeth.

“In fact, it helps a lot of plants to pick off the flowering part. And there’s not really an ecosystem we can disrupt here. Trust me, Stella and I are from a farm, we know all about it!” The singer explained.

“Farms are…” Rosie clenched her hands. “My nightmare. They’re so close to what I’m used to, just… less fun.”

Marina chuckled. “They aren’t that bad! Give them a try.”

“It’ll be like camping in bizarro-world.” Annabelle offered.

Rosie whined out. She relaxed with defeat.

Cameron and Paulie burst through the entry of the clearing in a flurry of panting. Rosie was now sound-of-mind enough to bother noticing Cameron stumble her way towards their team.

The ghost hunter held out the bundle of roses, her shoulders slumped. “Shitty new, you guys…” Rosie, unseen by the others, squinted.

“Got ‘em!” Paulie proudly thrust her set of flowers toward the other Queens.

“Yes!” Jackson pumped his fists. Jupiter took notice of the pinpricks on her fingers, and Amelia sighed dreamily at the pastel pink blooms.

“We should make a romantic bouquet!” The actress said.

“Uh-huh,” Jennifer voiced without interest, lowering the list she was reading. “Or we could make it goth.”

Amelia scoffed. To her shock, Paulie and Jackson gasped in delight. “YEAAAH!! GOTH BOU-QUET, GOTH BOU-QUET!” They chanted.

“I guess it would be a cool first impression?” Jupiter mused.

“Uhhhh… did you guys even look at them-?” Amelia started to argue, but paused. A mischievous smile crossed her lips.

“Chris is- he’ s like- almost here.” Tony informed everyone. With much (unneeded) urging from Jackson, Jennifer began peeling off flower names that they wouldn’t be using.

In between the two tables, Chris stood with his fists planted on his waist. “THANKS for making me take that walk. God knows my rigorous professional workout plan isn’t cutting it.” He complained. “Alright gardeners, I’ll be taking those flowers you don’t want now.”

The Hatters sent Nadine to take their handful of paper slips, and Jupiter had offered to go for the Queens.

Chris held his palms out. “May I ask what you guys decided on? By which I mean you have to tell me ‘cause there’s no way I’m looking through this mess to figure out which ones aren’t in it?”

Nadie looked up at him happily as she placed the scrap clump in his hands. “We decided on a cute, bright bouquet!” 

“Cool! Not what I asked.” Chris responded.

“We picked a bunch of blue and yellow flowers to go with this pink we got,” Rosie chimed in, flipping her wrist at the roses.

“-Still didn’t ask-”

“So we’re going to p- find- pic- grab some daffodils, snowdrops, forget-me-knots, and pansies.” Rosie read off their list.

“Alright. Cheshire Queens?” 

“We decided on the exact opposite- a goth bouquet.” Jennifer said.

“Lit-er-ally I DON’T care!” Chris barked.

Jennifer’s teeth gleamed with pride. “I know. We chose to find orchids, hydrangeas, carnations, and…” Her tone faltered for once. “... pansies.”

“Erg- why did we pick that!?” Amelia whispered.

“How could I have known!” Jennifer snapped back.

Chris clamped down on the papers dropped into his hand, causing Jupiter to jump. “Too late! Guess you guys are gonna have to share!” He taunted. “I’ll leave you to it. Just remember, you can’t end the game unless you have all of your flowers. And once you do, you can end it whenever your bouquet is ready.” He sauntered away after giving those last reminders.

The teens were awkwardly stagnant around the tables after his absence, not mingling too far. Marina was the only one who verbally stated she and her sister were going to search around the immediate clearing first, an idea shared with the others as they started to shuffle around the shrubbery.

It didn’t take long for Jackson to get fidgety about this, however. “Where’s that bush!? I bet that special rose is inside it!” He sprung into the air and dashed off.

“I can- wrap you up so you don’t get- injured.” Jupiter fiddled with the edge of their coat as they spoke towards him, turning as he passed.

“No time-”

Paulie jumped into his path and caught him by his shoulders. “Ah ah ah!” She spun him around. “We don’t want you looking like me, now.” She waved one of her scar-littered arms in his face while she shoved him back.

He grumbled and stuck his heels in the dirt, but all it did was leave marks in the ground. Jupiter smiled awkwardly and dug out a roll of gauze from their inner pocket.

“Sooo....” Annabelle voiced on the Hatters side, rocking backwards. “It would make sense to split up, yeah?”

“I’ll go with the sisters.” Nadine piped in, motioning her thumb at the two in a nearby flowerbed. Avery and Erika seemed to hang their heads just a little.

Cameron grinned, brushing off her hands. “I’m down with splitting. But first, does that list come with any pictures? I’m not sure I know what a sno- ACK!”

She had tried to lean in to see the paper Rosie was holding, but Rosie shot two fingers into the girl’s hairline, pushing her away with a strained grimace of a smile. “Now, Cameron, I thought you were going to take care of the roses? That’s the first thing you ever told our team you were going to do, and you didn’t complete it! That’s not a very look.” She bent down, fingers still harshly pushing into her bangs. “How can you expect us to trust you with anything else? Find that last rose, and then you can help the rest of us.”

Cameron stumbled back, eyebrows cinched incredulously. The rest of the team behind Rosie were clearly shocked by the scene. Annabelle coughed into her fist, bringing Rosie back to focus. The others were able to look nonchalant in time before she turned around. 

“I was thinking I would take off with you?” Annabelle asked, finger-gunning at the nature enthusiast.

Rosie cocked her head with a relaxed smile, as if nothing had happened. “I don’t mind the company one bit!”

They turned to leave, Annabelle throwing Cameron a confused shrug over her shoulder. The ghost hunter rubbed her forehead.

The twins kept to themselves at the outskirts; Nadine went over to the remaining sisters. Jennifer watched the Hatters more or less break off, and decided to speak up to her own team.

“Alright, we should start spreading around the island.” She looked around at the state of the Queens- Paulie idly leaning against a post caught her eye.

Paulie flicked her gaze to the goth as she drew near, a smirk crossing her face. “Yeah, I’ll be on that as soon as ’m sure Jackson’s all good. Don’t think Jups will catch him if he runs away.”

Jennifer peered over her shoulder at the two sitting on the ground. Jupiter tucked some gauze around Jackson’s fingers, and through his pout, he reluctantly said, “...At least I’ll look like a badass brawler.”

“Oh, I’m just kinda covering your hands. Do you want me to wrap you up like a boxer?” Jupiter offered.

He shook his platinum, choppy locks. “Nuh-uh, no way. ‘Wasting enough time as it is.”

Jupiter nodded and went back to work. Jackson squirmed.

“...Give me the fighter wrap…” He conceded to his inner desires. Jupiter began to undo the current bandages without question.

Jennifer placed her hands on her hips and sighed upwards. “What a fanatic.” She grumbled. “But it is a pretty good idea that I know I don’t want to do.” She relented, getting a chuckle out of Paulie.

Jennifer put her attention to the table instead. There she saw Amelia blissfully humming on a large rock, tapping the roses on the table surface like a secretary straightening her paperwork.

“...The hell are you doing?” She came up to her curiously.

Amelia regarded her with a smug pause. “You decided to make a dark, gloomy bouquet with these pretty pink flowers! It’ll take a bit to dye them a more fitting shade. Plus, someone needs to hold fort. Honestly, it should be obvious.”  She flicked her wrist at the goth and reached for a bottle of dark dye with the other.

“Oh! Well in that case, get your ass up and actually help.” Jennifer barked. “You aren’t going to be making excuses to look busy, especially when all the rest of us are working.”

Amelia’s eyebrows rose lazily, not bothering to look up. “I have countless hours in set design and prop building, honey. Sorry to be frank, but nobody can do this better than me.” She briefly looked Jennifer in the eye. “It’s simply the wrong move to have me do anything else.”

Jennifer was definitely about to argue, but a light tap on her shoulder stopped her before she began.

“Ah-!” Roger startled. “I trust Amelia to know what she’s talking about.”

Jennifer groaned, rubbing her temples. “FINE. Let her have her way. Of course the little princess gets to be the only one sitting around- not surprised.” She stomped away, but not before yanking Roger by his upper arm. “You’re coming with me. I can’t risk you imprinting on anybody else.”

“Hey, wh- I don’t get what you’re saying-!” He stumbled to catch up with the arm she was dragging him away with.

Amelia watched them go with her sparkly blues. “Hm.” She cockily shrugged to herself.

*The Shed: Jennifer* “Any other day if somebody tried to pull that with me on a group project, I would have grabbed them over that table by their stupid done-up hair.” Jennifer was leaned over close to the camera, pointing at her long and loose dark hair, but meaning Amelia’s auburn brown, heavily curled locks. “Unfortunately I can’t trust anybody here yet to not see me as the bad guy in that situation.” *End*

”Ooh I’m just gonna sit here and decorate like it’s HARD,” Jennifer mocked under her breath as she trudged past Rosie and Annabelle on her way out. She ignored Roger telling her that it was Amelia who was doing that and not her.

“Oh! Decorating! That’s what this is in the end, isn’t it?” Annabelle stopped in her tracks and turned to Rosie excitedly. “Hey, you think I can hang out and plan that bouquet? I love this kind of ribbons and artsy junk.”

Rosie’s head sunk. “Better you than me.”

“Cool, won’t let you down.” Annabelle smiled confidently with a snap of her fingers. She went back to the table as Rosie left the clearing behind her.

Marina intently noticed the absence of their giant teammate. Much to Nadine’s annoyance, who’d been trying to get the sisters to leave with her for a while now. The black girl walked closer to Annabelle. “Annabelle! I’m so glad you stuck around.”

“Oh, yeah?” She lifted her head quizzically. “Did you need me somethin’? Haha.”

“I wanted to make a team huddle about Rosie. It looks like we’re all here except for her- good.” Marina explained. This instantly drew Cameron in. Marina flicked her eyes toward the conjoined twins, but considering how intense their staring was, figured they would listen in without invitation, anyway.

Once they began a true little huddle, she continued. “I think cursing is what’s setting Rosie off. For whatever reason, she looks really upset when swears or suggestive things are said.”

“Dang, she’s too tall for me to notice.” Annabelle said.

“Are you serious!? THAT’S why she snapped on me?” Cameron shouted.

Annabelle chuckled. “I guess I noticed that one.”

“I think we’ll go a lot further if we don’t say things that bother her so much.” Marina added. “If she’s the type to lash out like this.”

“That blows.” Cameron further complained.

Nadine crossed her arms under her shirt’s panda icon. “I don’t like tip-toeing around, and Rosie’s reaction earlier wasn’t acceptable, but I also want to be a functioning team. Keeping as many hands on deck for as long as possible just makes sense.”

“Y- Maybe for you guys, but I’m already on her bad side!” Cameron threw her hands up. “This is going to suck double for me.”

“We’re on your side if she keeps giving you trouble.” Nadine reassured her.

“Hmm…” Marina cupped her dark brown chin. “You could maybe avoid that by apologizing to her? It’ll be hard for her to be passive aggressive if you make it clear you didn’t want to hurt her.”

Cameron sputtered a bit. “Aw, she doesn’t really deserve an apology- I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“It’s not really about deserving....” Annabelle explained. “It’s about her chilling out and not bothering you or us anymore.”

“Er... also that even though you didn’t mean to, cursing upsets her! And unless you meant to upset her, you want her to know you feel bad that you did!” Marina added once again. “In fact, you’re in the right if you want an apology in return.”

“But that isn’t likely if you don’t give her one first.” Nadine said with an edge of finality. She gave Cameron a quirked brow.

She groaned, slumping over. “I don’t wanna… but fine, whatever. But uh- heheh- not until I find that rose. Don’t want her focusing on that the whole time, y’know?”

Stella had wandered a foot away quite some time ago, the twins never ceased staring, and the rest agreed in some fashion to keep it PG before breaking off.

The ghost hunter sighed a long sigh, pushing her hands down her face.

*The Shed: Cameron* “Maaan being the bigger person is disgusting!” She whined, lying on her back sprawled on the bench. “Like, it literally turns my stomach.” *End*

Behind her, Jackson jumped into the air loudly proclaiming, “Finally! Now to give that rose bush a piece of my miiiiind!!” He charged away.

Cameron perked up, whirling in the direction he had gone. Her purple eyebrows lowered in determination, silently taking after him.

Satisfied, Paulie stretched off the post she was leaning on. Her hands dropping behind her head, she studied the environment. A sight caught her eye in the distance.

Jupiter eyed the dark-skinned girl to see what she would do now that they were both free. Paulie started to skip forward, completely away from them. Jupiter figured.

As she passed by the twins, Paulie gave them a wink and told them the first inspirational thought that came to mind. “Knock ‘em dead!” Finally, she got to the Hare Hatter trio and looped her arms around the shoulders of Nadine and Stella, the latter tossing her off immediately.

*The Shed: Avery and Erika* They sighed.

“We knew it. They have no idea what to do with us.” Erika pouted.

“Once there stops being important stuff to do, we’ll undoubtedly get the typical million questions, which is fine.” Avery said, “But right now they would probably all rather have us out of the way.”

“I mean, it’s fine that they don’t know what we can do, but they could ask! Because heaven knows…” Erika trailed off.

“We can’t…” Avery tried to finish.

They two sighed harder, defeatedly saying in unison, “...Speak up ourselves.” *End*

“‘Eyo!!” Paulie greeted her anti-teammates, swinging off of Nadine. “Mind a bit more company?”

“You’re on the other team.” The tallest of the four stated, picking up one of Paulie’s fingers and moving it away.

“I knoooooow, doesn’t that suck ass!?! We got to take every opportunity to hang out with each other now!” Paulie pumped her fist. “Queens and hats and yadda yadda won’t stop ME from making friends, ha!”

Nadine opened her mouth to retort, but caught the sudden surge of positive energy from Marina and Stella, practically becoming two bright little suns. She pursed her lips silently instead.

“We love to make new friends! Stella, aren’t you a great friend?” Marina asked her sister, barely containing her excitement.

Stella lifted her fists over her head with a smile so wide it shut her eyes. “YEAH!”

“Ahhh…” Paulie vocalized a low shout. “You guys are jazzing me up, now. This is going to be great!” She peeked at Nadine’s smirk, and looped around her shoulder once more, whispering into the fabric over her ear, “I also didn’t want to hang out with Jenny Downer, y’know what I’m saying?”

“I get you.” Nadine reached for Paulie’s farthest shoulder and pushed her back onto her feet. “Now what were you saying Marina?”

“Oh, I was just letting you know that Stella-”

“YEAH!”

“-Was totally listening to us before. I know she wandered off, but to her, she doesn’t have to look focused in order to be paying attention. As long as she can hear you, she’s usually listening.”

“Not much for group huddles, then.” Nadine said warmly. “I’ll keep that in mind, not that I minded before.”

“Oh hey, I saw that!” Paulie piped in. “You guys looked super serious. Like, the most intense meeting for a bouquet I’ve ever seen.”

“We were actually talking about Rosie throwing a scene. It’s a pain already.” Nadine pinched the bridge of her nose. “She’s been acting hostile toward Cameron ever since she came back with the flowers.”

Paulie’s perkiness faltered, perspiration forming under the brim of her black bandana. “Th- that so? About not having all the- haha, yikes!”

*The Shed: Paulie* “My little sleight of hand wasn’t supposed to get anyone in trouble!” Paulie fretted. “Honest to godess I was just joshing! Now I feel like the world’s most bonafide douchebag. Give me my shithead degree! I deserve it!” *End* *III*

The albino cast member fidgeted. They tried to take note of their surroundings without annoying anyone else still around.

Their sibling was over at the Hatter’s table completely absorbed in the instruments at her disposal. Amelia was busy at theirs’. Paulie was just leaving their sight with three of the other team, and the conjoined twins had slipped off between blinks.

Jennifer had long since dragged Roger off to search higher into the island, and Jackson was retracing steps of their tour to find the double-headed rose. Jupiter sighed lightly, noticing the only person of the Queens that seemed to be idle, like them.

They cautiously approached Tony, who was leaning over some wildflowers. As soon as the shadow of their person crossed his sight, however, he shot his head up. He barely noticed Jupiter, saw that mostly everyone was gone, and made his way straight to the table. Jupiter only stuck around long enough to see Amelia look up at him. They rolled their shoulders, unsure, and made off in an unwandered direction alone.

[radiojamming]

hartving and courting ;3c

AU where carnivale didn’t go to shit, i guess? ;D

(also hc that the drunker irving gets, the more scottish he gets. we were so robbed of that accent in the show.)

- - -

It’s the rum. It has to be the rum, honey-sweet and working in devious concert with the golden firelight to play terrible tricks on John. Otherwise, there is no worldly, godly explanation as to why Thomas Hartnell looks as lovely as he does. Oh God, lovely. It’s not the sort of word you use to describe a man, let alone one wearing a ridiculous papier-mâché lion’s head on top of his own, a corded knot mane trailing behind him like the thread trail of Ariadne.

Certainly the rum. John takes another swig just to be sure of his theory.

It’s not a solid theory, of course. He cannot blame a rum ration and lantern light for every time that he’s caught sight of red-gold hair over an upturned collar. Lord knows he can’t blame it for how easily he can envision Tom’s eyes, warm blue like a summer sky. Horrid, it is, how quickly he’s fallen into temptation for a constellation of freckles and the lilt of a Chatham accent. 

Then, someone strikes up a fantastic Irish aire on a fiddle, and John feels that his handmade angel wings are a bit askew.

He takes another fortifying drink that earns him twin cheers from a pair of ABs dressed as French maids. Then, he reaches up and adjusts his halo, and trusts that the rum is going to make a complete fool out of him with such intensity that he’ll never wish to leave his berth again. It would serve him right. 

Tom stands near one painted-canvas wall with Peglar, the two of them talking under a looming figure of a statue of Aphrodite, her hands covering her with only the barest suggestion of chastity. John resolutely ignores the possible connotation and clears his throat as he approaches the pair, watching Peglar grin like a fool as Tom splutters and nearly drops his tin of rum.

“Lieutenant Irving!” Tom says, eyes wide and a blush already fixed upon his face, drawing out his freckles so that John can make out each one individually. The man tries to salute, but only succeeds in smacking the lion’s head off his own, sending it tumbling to the snow while Peglar about doubles over in laughter.

“At— Uh, at ease, Hartnell,” John says, clearing his throat again, before nodding at Peglar. “Meester Peglar.”

“Lieutenant,” Peglar chirps before patting Tom on the back. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Henry,” Tom hisses through his teeth as Peglar hums to himself and sashays back through the dancing masses. It leaves the two of them, lion and angel, drunk and slightly drunker. Tom is biting down on his bottom lip, eyes anxiously flicking back and forth between John and the now-dented costume. “Um, pleasant night, isn’t it?” he says.

“Is wonderful,” John declares. “Hav’ you ever been t’a masque, Hartnell?”

Tom blinks at him before opening and closing his mouth on several false starts. “Oh, no. I’m not… I never had the opportunity.” 

Right. He’s an AB and from the little nook of towns around Chatham Dockyard. Unless his family somehow made a fortune in tar or oysters, he wouldn’t have had the sort of finances that would allow him to go. John should be mortified at his suggestion, but instead, he grins like the fool he is and rocks up and down on his toes. “S’very nice. All sorts’o people there t’dance with. I never wanted tae, b’cause—” He pauses, furrowing his brows as he tries to think of why he didn’t dance before. Not for lack of skill, as he had lessons like all of his siblings. Then, he settles on, “Not the right partner.”

“I’m awfully sorry, Lieutenant,” Tom says, and it pleases John as to how honest he sounds. He fidgets with the bottom hem of his coat, fingertips pink with the cold; John has a terrible time looking at anything else.

“You wan’tae dance w’me?” he says before he can stop himself. 

Tom looks outright like an owl, his perfect, perfect blue eyes wide in surprise. “D-do I, what?”

“Daaaahnce,” John drawls out, at best attempting to mimic Captain Fitzjames.

“With— With me?”

“Mhmm.” John knows that Tom is looking at him with pure disbelief, so before he can ask after the choice, he closes up the distance between them by a few more feet, until Tom’s back is to Aphrodite, and John’s right boot is doing something interesting to the lion’s snout, making it look like it’s about to sneeze. 

He’s suddenly aware of everything about Tom—he smells like firewood and rum, his bottom lip is red from where he’s been biting it, and there is a wonderful rendition of the constellation of Corona Borealis on the left side of his nose. His hair is tousled, and John feels some rum-soaked, traitorous part of himself that wants to run his hands through it.

“Thomas,” he says, forgoing titles and surnames and going straight for the Christian. Thomas—doubting Thomas, Thomas the twin, the one who would go to death for the man he cared most about. As John’s mind swirls like shore water around the dock posts of what he knows, he feels gloriously untethered, more free than he’s been in years. “I’m about tae say somethin’ very foolish. I’ll not say it twice, an’ I willnae say it tomorrow. Y’understand?”

Tom nods, breathing heavily. John watches one sweat drop snake down his jaw to his collar. The temptation to chase it becomes stifling.

“I wanna…” He licks his lips, not ignorant of how Tom watches him. Then, he makes order of the words following the wild currents in his brain. “I very much wan’tae be around you. Near you. I won’t get that chance for a long time, an’ so if it means… If it means dancin’, then awright.”

There’s a silence between them, backed by that excitable fiddler and the raucous laughter and conversation of the crews. For the two of them, however, there’s a silence hanging by a gossamer thread, and John feels as though his heart is suspended on it as well. 

He’s a terrible man. He’s been having awful thoughts for months now, all centered around Thomas, making carnal, sinful images in his own head when the poor man—

“Alright,” Tom says.

John stares at him. The word moves through his head like treacle. “Wh’,” is all he can manage.

Tom smiles. Corona Borealis rises on his face. “I’ll dance with you, although you might want to sober up a bit before you go out there on your feet.”

And like the coming of tomorrow’s dawn, John smiles back, his heart dancing to the aire already.

[rational-mastermind]

Day 5! We’re shaking things up and going to be focusing on a couple of OCs of mine! Alex the Guardian of Death and Aisha the Empath!

--

  Aisha was sitting in her small home deep in the woods, curled up on the end of a wicker couch, reading a book by the low lamp’s light, when her guardian, Jason, came in.

“Oh, good, you’re back.” he smiled at her.

“Welcome home.” she smiled back. “What’s up?”

“There’s something I wanna show you. Grab your coat and follow me.”

Jason was a tall, young man with sandy blonde hair and deep brown eyes. He wore a long white cloak and carried a tall staff, with a glass globe at the end, containing small balls of light which Jason has called will-o-wisps. He looked to be in his 20′s, but Aisha knew he was much older than that. Exactly how old though, he wouldn’t say.

Aisha felt a certain fondness for her guardian. He found her, at a young age, and had all but raised her himself deep in the woods. Other creatures see him as like an angel, or a god, a guardian of life. But to her, he was a mentor, a teacher, and almost fatherly.

Aisha herself was a good six inches shorter. She had chestnut skin, dappled with dots of white, and long raven black hair, she normally kept in a braid. She grabbed her bear fur coat, a coat given to her by Jason last year during the Winter months, and returned to the door.

Jason stood by the door, no longer a man, but a pure white stag. his branching horns stood tall and proud behind him, carefully holding the wisps from his jar. To any other, he would appear mystical and powerful, like a beautiful and gentle spirit. To Aisha though, this was just another, more commonly known, form he took, using his white cloak as a means to transform. He knelt down and Aisha climbed onto his back.

“You steady?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Alright, hold tight.”

Aisha wrapped her arms around his neck and he took off in the dwindling twilight.

“So where are we going tonight?”

“Tonight’s the equinox.” Jason informed her. “The beginning of the new season, and the night the stars will change their position.”

“So we’re going to the grasslands to watch the stars?”

“You’ve got it.”

Aisha watched the forest race by her as Jason bounded effortlessly through the trees. She caught sight of a few seasonal spirits, jumping from tree to tree, changing their leaves from Summery Green to the Autumnal spectrum. The jackalopes hopped out of Jason’s way.  She saw other creatures flit through the trees, but they passed by too quickly for her to really see.

Soon enough, the sun was setting, and Jason and Aisha arrived at the edge of the grasslands. The tall straw-colored sea of grass spread out far off to the horizon. The last oranges, pinks, and purples of the twilight were disappearing over that edge.

Aisha looked up at the stars and smiled at their beauty. It was never a lonely night when they were out.

“Aisha, can you find the North Star?” Jason asked, kneeling down.

Aisha slid off his back and looked carefully at them.

“Hmm.. Oh! There!" she pointed it out.

“Good. Now watch him carefully.”

Aisha squinted in the growing darkness. At first nothing seemed to change. But then the star seemed to be growing. It got bigger and bigger. Aisha watched with wide-eyed wonder as it dawned on her the star wasn’t just growing. It was growing closer.

She pressed back into Jason as one, huge, navy blue foot touched down into the grass, and a towering creature of the night stood over her.

“Greetings, North Star!” Jason called out, standing up. “How are we this evening?”

The head of this creature, this... star... turned and Aisha could see it’s bright pin point of light. It shone down on the both of them like a spotlight.

“Ah, Mr. Jason.” a smooth, calm, deep voice responded. “It’s good to see you once more. I see you’ve also brought along another of your kind.”

“Yes sir. This is Aisha. A dear friend and family of mine.”

The star hummed and turned his attention to Aisha. She gave a nervous bow.

“I-It’s um.. Goo-good to- It-It’s good to meet you, Sir.” she greeted.

“It’s good to meet you as well, dear child.” the North Star returned. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

The North Star stood straight and began to move away. Aisha looked around the fields and all around them the constellations that she knew so well in the sky.. were all reaching down on Earth. Ursa Major and Minor. Cassiopeia. Orion. Scorpio. Creatures of enormous proportions, swathed in a dark mass and glimmering speckles, were all reaching the field now, and greeting one another. Aisha ended up losing her balance, just trying to watch it all, and fell back onto the grass to watch with Jason.

“What do you think, Aisha?”

“It’s beautiful..” she said, eyes wide with wander. “But.. What’s...?”

“Every equinox, the stars reach down to Earth and exchanges positions in the sky. The Western stars will now appear in the East, and the Eastern shall appear in the West. This is where they meet. This is where they change. Where they hold the balance.”

Aisha and Jason watched on and after all of them came down, Jason nudged her.

“Come. I’ll introduce you.”

Aisha climbed onto his back and Jason stood and began walking through the crowd of constellations. As Aisha was being introduced to some, she noticed another large, dark figure standing a good few yards away.

“Who’s that?”

Jason looked and his ears pinned back.

“Oh..” Jason was obviously disapproving.

The figure drew closer and soon enough Aisha could see it was a wolf. A huge black wolf with brightly glowing eyes.

“Alex.” Jason greeted, his normally warm voice now cold and distant.

“Jason.” the wolf returned.

He lowered his head and soon was standing as a man, drawing his hood. His hair was long and black and he wore a black cloak. His piercing green eyes practically shone in the dark, standing out against his pale white and gaunt face. He looked at Aisha and raised an eyebrow. For some reason, the gaze sent shivers down Aisha’s spine and her heart began beating faster.

“When did you start babysitting?” he asked, looking back at Jason.

“Take a wild guess.” Jason huffed.

“I’m assuming this is Aisha?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Relax. I’m just making conversation...” Alex began walking around Jason, but their eyes remained locked on one another. “..You know she won’t last forever.”

“I’m well aware but it won’t get cut short.”

Alex scoffed and walked by him.

“Whoever said it would? I’m simply warning you... Don’t get too attached.”

With that he transformed back into a wolf and disappeared into the night.

“...Wh-who..was...?”

“Alex. My brother.” Jason answered. “The Guardian of Death. You’re not allowed near him, understand?”

“I promise.”

But Aisha couldn’t keep her promise. It would only be weeks later they would meet again. And again and again. And over the course of several years, she will learn Death was not as scary as most assumed. Death was caring and tender and kind. And over time she would learn of Death’s sweet embrace and win his heart. In time, Death will learn, you can’t help getting attached and some things, are worth the time and effort.

[ftkd-arts]

HC: Apple Bloom

I've come across new, different ideas for AB, so I'm updating my Harmonyverse HC for her, with a new full-body adult design! Onto the headcanons~

Her parents, Pear "Buttercup" Butter and Delicious "Bright Mac" Cameo, died very close to their youngest daughter's birth. Buttercup was left terribly exhausted afterwards, with so little strength she couldn't even hold her newborn in her arms. Doctors feared she wouldn't make it. With what Buttercup accepted as her final breath, she gave their foal a name. Daisy Blossom. (Granny Smith would later give the filly a name fit for the tiny, sleek filly; Apple Bloom.)

Yet, Buttercup lived through it. She was still weak and tired, but she was alive. On the first day she was allowed to walk around Ponyville, her and Bright Mac took out their oldest, Johnny, to the market with baby Apple Bloom. A few minutes into grocery shopping, Buttercup fainted. Bright Mac raced to help her. Only Johnny saw the supply carriage bumbling towards them, and in that one second he could yell, the young colt froze in terror.

Following the funeral, Applejack vowed to always, always protect Apple Bloom and her family, and Johnny inherited Bright Mac's name and his work. All siblings were contracted to their only remaining grandparent, Granny Smith, after some fight from Bright Mac's best friend Burnt Oak, who was the godfather of the children.

Big Mac and Applejack developed quickly. They couldn't make mistakes in raising Apple Bloom, their last connection to their lost parents. Applejack became a constant helicopter to her, making sure Apple Bloom was comfortable, happy, and healthy. Big Mac was more loose than Jack, but he did take care of the baby a lot, as stubborn AJ took up a wealthy amount of the farmwork.

The more Apple Bloom grew, the more she dreamed of freedom and uninterrupted alone-time. She fixated over proving herself mature, so Applejack would loosen the leash a little, if not all the way. One day, a thought crossed her mind; cutie marks. They were handled as the last step into puberty! She needed to earn her cutie mark to be a big mare!

Soon, she found the only other blank-flanks, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, and together they formed the Cutie Mark Crusaders. As roughly the oldest CMC (During the course of the show, Apple Bloom and her fellow classmates are preteen foals, while the Mane Six are in their 20s), Apple Bloom appointed herself the unofficial leader.

Apple Bloom was too young to remember her mother and father's faces from her own memories, so she always relied on pictures and stories from her family. The Apple children weren't aware that their mother wasn't an Apple, so they believed themselves pure-blooded. Applejack and Big Mac never questioned it... But it had confused Apple Bloom since she could think.

Apples were portrayed as strong, tall creatures. A mass of fluff, freckles, and muscles. True forces to be reckoned with. So why wasn't Apple Bloom?

Even before getting her cutie mark, AB was skinny, sleek, small and shimmery. She was curious and self-conscious. It was typical for the average Apple foal to have a growth spurt early into their tweens, and to come out as a new, fluffy and buffy pony. But she just wasn't.

That fact scared her. She hated the idea that she wasn't actually an Apple. That she was just some kid Granny Smith took pity on and fostered. How could she know for sure that Buttercup was her mother, or Bright Mac her father? Why didn't her real parents want her? Was she bad, somehow? Why wasn't she enough for anyone as-is? Not for Applejack, who wanted her to be a perfect, safe carbon copy? Not for her friends, who wanted her to be a commanding leader? Not for Anypony... No creature loved her truly, did they?

She had convinced herself that she was adopted when she met a mister Grand Pear. Finally, she got an answer to why her body was different. She simply had the athletic, slim figure of her mother, and that was okay. Apple Bloom was a little disappointed she wasn't a full Apple, but she was half-Apple, and that made her happy.

Luckily, tho, she did eventually have her growth spurt, late into her teens. Unfortunately to Bloom, this also attracted the attention of... suitors. Ew

Apple Bloom had always wanted to be so many things. Zecora's official full-time apprentice, the real leader of the Crusaders, the strongest Apple... And within a few years, she would achieve those dreams. She would build up her own future, packed with multiple professions (blacksmith, carpenter, engineer, farmer, potion brewer, dancer, fixer, head of a Youth Camp)... And those responsibilities would turn into an excuse as to why she didn't pursue a meaningful relationship.

Love was too messy for her. The idea of falling for somebody and them wasting her time wasn't a thought she favored. Romance was a fickle force, closer to Chaos than the friendship lessons she had been taught and had since mastered. She believed she had everything she wanted. That may have been true, if she wasn't terrified of falling in love.

She was scared. Terrified that if she found someone she really connected with, someone she built her life with and loved more than the stars, that that creature would be taken from her. No matter if the love was true, no matter if they were good and honest, even if they had a beautiful life together, that partner could be snuffed out. And it would hurt. So, so much. Enough that Apple Bloom would be left bitter, paranoid, depressed and alone.

It happened to Buttercup and Bright Mac. It could happen to anyone.

So Apple Bloom didn't have much of a love life. Sure, she had flings, but those were short and wild, with ponies she didn't actually love and that felt the same way about her. Her whirlwind fling with one Featherweight was never supposed to end in pregnancy. It was supposed to be uncomplicated summer fun. But life wasn't like that sometimes. Most of the time, it seemed. Now, because of her recklessness, a child was on the way, and she had no idea how to care for a foal, or a husband.

Featherweight was happy he was going to be a father, but at the same time, he never expected or wanted a baby with Apple Bloom. He only felt genuine friendship for the mare, and she felt the same. They had many long talks over what to do. Apple Bloom promptly crossed off the notion of an abortion before anybody had even mentioned it. Finally, they agreed to have and raise the baby together, as friends.

A week into the pregnancy, Apple Bloom revamped the Cutie Mark Clubhouse into a humble cabin. Featherweight moved in to care for her.

Nine months and a lot of chocolate-laced apple deserts later, Apple Bloom would deliver her first and only baby girl. As soon as she held the tiny filly in her arms, she felt something so fierce in her heart. She never wanted anything bad to happen to this little ball of fluff. She wanted her baby to have a full life, brimming with creatures that loved her. She had never felt something so powerful before the birth of her daughter... Buttercup would be her name, Apple Bloom decided. Maria Meadow Buttercup, after Granny Maria Smith and Pear Butter.

Apple Bloom loved Buttercup so much, she recognized the feelings she had been neglecting. She wanted to feel what love was like when it was romantic. Of course, her daughter was more important than dating for a long while, but after Featherweight moved out and could have Buttercup over at his apartment, Apple Bloom decided to try it.

AB didn't have much luck. Most of her (in hindsight, ill-picked) dates weren't very open-minded when she mentioned her newborn. It took only a few months for her to get frustrated with it. She slowly resented her even trying to find someone. She hated the rejection. She wanted real, true love, from a kind being that sparked something within her. Was that too much to ask?

Then one random day, she stumbled into an old friend. Diamond Dazzle Tiara, her old bully turned friend, who had changed into quite the business mare. She was working a manager position in Barnyard Bargains, her father's international retail industry. Humbly (or stubbornly, as Spoiled Rich would put it), Diamond refused to quit her job as the Ponyville Mayor's assistant. Apple Bloom remembered how convincing and snobby Mrs. Rich could be, and was secretly impressed Diamond had managed to subdue her.

Still, Diamond Tiara was obviously struggling. She needed a break. After Apple Bloom got a friend to fill in for Dia's shift, Diamond couldn't say no to a catch-up-coffee-date! (Which served as a subtle tell for Bloom; Diamond was single!)

Diamond Tiara had so much to spill. Apple Bloom was surprised to see the mare in such a frantic state. Where was the poised, graceful, cunning and confident young mare that Apple Bloom had said goodbye to when she went away for University in Prance? Diamond Tiara had changed, and with good reason.

The mare had been the bride of her university sweetheart, Snails (who would have guessed? Literally no one). They had been happy... until they weren't. And then Diamond had the dumbest idea she might have ever had. Saving their relationship with a baby didn't work. Now she was a divorced single mother with joint custody of their baby, Drama Queen, and, worse, she had had another daughter with wild ex-boyfriend Rumble, siring baby Loudmouth. (Diamond doesn't regret having her daughters, of course. She just wished it was under different circumstances.)

But, but, but, she was happy once she and life-long bestie Silver Spoon agreed to open a restaurant together. It was so fun being the boss! Being awesome bosses with her bestie! Being an awesome, good mother to her young children! It was amazing. She had been picking her life back together, and she had been happy.

Then her mother had to ruin everything even more. Diamond was somewhat afraid of Spoiled Rich. After the birth of Loudmouth, Dia had cut off communication with her mom. But she couldn't muster up the courage to say a much wanted 'no' when Spoiled Rich dropped by and pressured Diamond to go back to Barnyard Bargains. This wasn't what Dia wanted, she knew, but she couldn't find a way out. She needed out, she wasn't happy here, not as her mother's obedient pawn or as a respected employee of her dad's company.

Apple Bloom wasn't going to let her friend accidentally wreck her life. Apple Bloom and Diamond Tiara constructed a plan to help Diamond stand up to Spoiled Rich, and with support from friends and family, Diamond left Barnyard Bargains and helped Silver Spoon open more establishments, all while happily maintaining her assistant job and becoming a fitness coach.

Diamond Tiara soon moved in with Apple Bloom, originally as close friends... Until something more bloomed.

Other notes~

- Apple Bloom is now a flirty and fun, yet collected and stern mare. She's a good mother, probably the best out of the CMC. She graduated from needing some twisted version of freedom to actually having it, in the form of healthy independence together. Loves chocolate treats, charity work, detective novels, folk and hip hop music, mythology, trashy romantic comedies and cheap horror films, and horoscopes.

- Only rare ponies know Apple Bloom's full name, and that goes for a lot of Apples. They're a Clan of nicknames, basically.

- Apple Bloom isn't heavyset because of muscles, she is simply a plus-sized woman.

- Apple Bloom didn't attend University. She opted to have less on her plate during her pregnancy and the first few years of Buttercup's childhood. Now that Buttercup is a preteen and isn't as much as a hoof-ful as a baby pony, Apple Bloom takes online courses. She is aiming for a degree in carpentry, with minors in mechanical engineering and art.

- As a younger filly, Bloom preferred the calmer, quieter energy of her brother. Into childhood, strong, fearless and independent Applejack shifted into her idol instead. Still, Apple Bloom doesn't like to share either of her siblings, and was very hostile towards their respective partners at first, as well as new friends, old sweethearts, and the occasional friendly stranger. She is also very protective of Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, who she considers her first real friends. You bet she threatened the hell outta Tender Taps and Gilded Lily.

And she was even more pissed when Granny Smith got a girlfriend!

- Apple Bloom opened a Youth Camp for foals to try out different activities. These foals didn't have to be blank-flanks; it was opened to any kid.

- Her mentor Zecora broadened Apple Bloom's worldview farther than Applejack ever had. Zecora taught her about so many different plants, creatures, cultures, and most notably, religions. Zecora mentioned the belief of Magic (the Ponyverse term for real-world Wicca) to a teenage Apple Bloom, and from there on, Apple Bloom researched the hell outta it.

Magic was mostly a religion practised by non-unicorn ponies and species that were believed, by dismissive unicorns that spread it as the truth, not to be magically inclined. Apple Bloom was raised as a believer of Providence (a form of Ponyverse Christianity), and for a few years considered herself both a Witch and a Provider. She now defines as only a Witch. Wears a Wiccan necklace that promises protection.

- Tattoos do exist in MLP, and Granny was not happy when college-aged AB got roses on her arm. Granny wasn't that supportive of her second tattoo, either; Diamond Tiara's initials (but certainly not as mad as the roses).

- Humanverse Apple Bloom's name is Daisy "Blossom" Alma, and she is an Asian Australian American woman that rocks V-neck flannel crop tops and mom jeans.

- Part of the reasons why Bloom didn't want a shot-gun marriage was for Featherweight's best friend's sake, Pipsqueak. Pip turned jittery and awkward whenever Apple Bloom was around or the pregnancy (and the following newborn baby) was mentioned. Apple Bloom quickly realized Pipsqueak was deeply in love with an oblivious Featherweight, who was even more oblivious to the fact that he felt the same way. Shortly after their daughter was born, Apple Bloom match-made her baby daddy with his bestie, and those two are still together to this day.

- Apple Bloom is still friends with Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, despite Sweetie's house being in Canterlot while she frequently tours Equestria as a pop singer, supermodel and exotic dancer and Scootaloo traveling the world as a Scout to reform creatures that need to be taught friendship. Sweetie Belle's job is very time-consuming while Scootaloo's is both time-consuming and dangerous as hell.

Apple Bloom worries about them a lot, Sweetie because she's a recovering drug addict in an industry known for hardcore corruption and Scootaloo because of her reckless nature. Apple Bloom regularly checks in with her old dance partner/Sweetie Belle's also-celebrity husband Tender Taps, the power couple's quietly confident daughter Bella Danzatrice, Scootaloo's surprisingly stable and non-wild genius wife Gilded Lily (who's AB's step-niece), and their shy, smart son Orion.

- Dia and Snails' daughter Drama Queen formed a Sister Squad with half-sisters Loudmouth and Champion (Snails and Twist's filly), and soon brought in Buttercup. Since then, little Buttercup is a bit more spoken than she used to be, but is still lacking in confidence. She's a soft-spoken, gentle, sensitive filly that's at the top of her class. She is most comfortable when with close friends or close family. Like her mother, Buttercup juggles many hobbies, but mostly enjoys crafts and perfume-making. Buttercup requires a lot of encouragement because of her poor self-image. Apple Bloom is always, always patient with her.

And that's the new rewrite! I felt like I left too much out last time, and I sketched an adult AB and made it the base of her new HC: Character. I'll probably be making new ones for Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, too, since I've discovered new headcanons from other people that I like more than mine. Peace ✌️

[thecolourfulkingdom]

More tinfoil hat theories! What's the deal with Sally Starlet?

What's with her anyway? We have like +100500 theories on Wally, Home and Frank. But what about our favourite starwoman? Not enough speculations.

Let me bring you some tinfoil-y deliciousness.

Sally's colour is ORANGE as befitting, well, you know her being a literal Sun. But since Sun is also a Star it creates a strange duality.

Sun that is a star that is a performer? Oh my, dear Sally has many faces and wears many masks.

Sally's tarot card is obviously The Sun. Or is it? Let's see... The Sun is generally considered positive. It represents success, radiance, abundance, happiness, vitality, self-confidence and success. It represents good things and positive outcomes to current struggles. It also calls you to express yourself authentically.

The Sun in the upright position means: positivity, fun, warmth, success, vitality.

The Sun in the reversed position means : inner child, feeling down, overly optimistic.

Seemingly, the description fits Sally, right? But it's only a half of it. Our dear Sally may have a VERY different side to her.

But first, let's have a look at the Sally's house from Welcome Home page. It looks like a chest or even a toychest because of it's orange-yellow roof of a specific shape and like a theater stage with it's orange curtains with yellow star pattern at the same time. Oh and don't forget the red carpet in the from of it. if you look at the roof again, you will see a spotlight hanging above the "stage" part. Fancy!

But the most interesting element is the door. It sort of made into Sally's image - it has the same triangle yellow-orange elements styled like her hair around the dark orange doorframe.

The door itself has two door leafs. On both of each a side of a smiling face depicted. The Left one seems to represent the day - sky is bright cerulean with soft white clouds. Left half of the depicted face is bright yellow with red blush and orange eyelid.

Right door leaf represents night - sky is dark blue smoothly changing into the purple at the bottom with shiny yellow stars. The right half of the face is also cerulean but of different, cooler shade.

Sally of Many faces? Very well, it fits her like a performer, because changing faces that's what she does all the time.

Let's have look at The Moon card too.

The Moon. Th card itself is all about duality: two towers, two animals and one of them is tamed and the other is wild. The doubles are visible all over this card. Everything seems to echo the other, as if to allude to two possibilities. And let us not forget the fine line between conscious and unconscious...

On one hand, the Moon card can symbolize your imagination is taking the best of you. You are taking a path that you are unsure of, there could be danger lurking in the depths of the night. But the moon's light can bring you clarity and understanding . Allow your intuition to guide you through this darkness. But does Sally even possess an intuition? Good question.

Reversed Moon represent confusion and unhappiness - one wants to make progress, but isn't sure what is the right thing to do. They must deal with their anxiety and fears by overcoming them, for fears are like shadows in the dark.

I was wondering what if Wally's remark in the guestbook refer to Sally doing something that ruined their neighborhood? I mean, she already left her home once to get an audience. What if she grew bored with the small town such as Home and run away again.

Yeah, sounds what human starlets often do: ambitious young woman goes to conquer the big city. Swap big city with a human world and you will get a receipt for a disaster. Silly Sally could get entangled in the illusions of her stardom. How dangerous can it get? Given how innocent puppets are I would say, very fast.

So what did happen? Did Sally betray Wally and everyone else for fame? Dang... It would make sense why Wally dislike her.

Maybe there is more to it. I will keep digging.

Oh, also I was trying to get a better picture of her house yesterday and when I accidentally zoomed in...

And what the actual fuck is this?! Is that a skull?!!! And a worm/snail shadow from the bug post.

Sally, girl, you owe us an explanation.

[thecolourfulkingdom]

I saw your post on religion and WH and let me throw in my 5 cents? Keep in mind - this is tinfoil hat kind of theory but at this level of knowledge we can count butt for a nightingale and it will sing just fine.

As you may heard, there are 12 houses in astrology, each rules an important aspect of our lives. Now Home itself is a 9th neighbour so let us look at the 9th astrological house...

It has to do to with religion, law, philosophy, learning, higher education, understanding and wisdom, books, publishing, ceremonies, and rituals, dreams, visions, journeys (espiecially long ones), travel in general, foreign countries, outside interests, spiritual awakening, ideas, ethics and morality.

Another thing is that 9th house being a house of "understanding" pretty complex compared to the act of "knowing" which simply implies the direct contact of a person with something in their environment. Understanding involves processing and the synthesis of the information that is already known and gathered.

Also the 9th house is where one seeks to discover the significance of larger fields of social existence which one may not experience directly but which his mind may explore through the use of analogy, generalization and abstraction.

Thus we can say that 9th House is a house of the betterment of the self.

So what does it have to do with Wally?

Technically speaking, Wally used to live in the 3th house that ruled all this all of his live. 3rd house is a house of knowledge. It has to do with an individual's need to understand his close personal environment. And what Wally mainly does? He was learning about things around him and about his closest people - his neighbors. But at the same time, most of the things of the 9th House didn't apply to him.

Now, the 3rd and 9th houses are opposite to each other; they also symbolize the concrete and the abstract thought. Think: polarity of the human mind.

But then something happens and our lil puppet guy is massively hit with - I would say - with the essence of the 9th house.

Now he has to plunge into all this head first to help Home and his friends. He has to expand not only field of activity but also the scope of his own mind. And maybe try to do the same with the viewer, because living puppets are sure far outside any sort of "normal" things for most people.

Given that his normal living environment was rather routine based (as far as my knowledge goes, autistic people - and probably autistic puppets too- do better in such environment), I think dealing with all these things at once caused him a trauma and to be fair, while Wally is trying to do good, he might accidentally hurt himself and everyone involved in process simply because he has no understanding of how things work outside of his little secluded world.

Interestingly, all this 9th house stuff points at Wally's own "quest": to gain complex understanding of the world and self.

-------------------

Speaking of Home&Wally relationships, I see it as caregiver & ward sort of thing.

What also stroke me, is that Home being evil would be a kind of a tropey cliche people expect... You know, akin to the trope of the Haunted House? Also Wally being evil is Evil Puppet trope at its finest (but can be read as Creepy Autistic Person) so I doubt it will be the case.

By far Clown did a marvelous job avoiding most types of cliches in regard to their characters so I'm very curious how they are going to play this out.

--------------

Also, tiny moment about mold - the black mold, Aspergillus niger,  is a problem of too wet houses or those heavily managed by water. And Home is prone to crying (we have that stuff in the official art).

Maybe it means nothing.

Maybe black mold was original reason for show cancellation.

The best way to get rid of it? Fire. Fire could be the reason why there was no evidence of show existence left in-universe.

I've been thinking a lot about the houses, specifically how they might correlate with WH's theme of religion. The parts in the livestream trivia where Clown talked about the houses is really interesting, how Home is the only "alive" house but all the neighbors believe their houses are alive to some capacity. And the fact that the holidays are to celebrate their houses, where human holidays are usually to celebrate deities/religions.

The only thing on the website that still has this religious theme is the So Below page of Wally (possibly) worshipping Home. Perhaps Clown removed the cross cufflinks and Baphomet imagery so WH could be an allegory about religion instead of straight up about Christianity. The houses/Home could be metaphors for deities and the neighbors are their followers, even if their perception of religion and what it means is probably very different than humans'.

i was wondering why i had a hard time answering this message yesterday, and i think it's because i never really saw welcome home as a story about christianity or even religion as a whole, in either its current iteration or its earlier drafts. i think there is a very good chance that it's one aspect of welcome home, but... how do i say this.

when i see posts from clown talking about what he feels welcome home is about, i get the impression that at its core, welcome home is a story about alienation - from society, from one's environment, from one's peers, even from one's own self - and Specifically about alienation that comes as a result of changing (or at least desiring change) in an environment that upholds stagnation/the status quo/etc. as The Ideal. not Quite the same as but very similar to nostalgia poisoning, two peas in a pod. and i don't think it's a coincidence that this can also be lobbed as a criticism at the practices of Many christian denominations in the usa, a country in which christian hegemony is still very strongly felt in many aspects of daily life (let alone back when welcome home was airing in-universe or when its supposed creator, ronald dorelaine, was growing up.) i suspect that part of the reason the christian symbolism seems to have been reworked into something more subtle between welcome home's 2019 concept and what we have now is because:

A.) it would have been rather on the nose, even hokey, to have the world of welcome home (the in-universe show) be a textually christian one (or have the christian subtext be so strong that it might as well just be text) when you don't really Need welcome home to be a religious production to demonstrate the idea that art is shaped by the culture/society in which it exists and/or its creator(s) hail from.

B.) it was less ... nuanced? idk if that's the word i'm looking for, but - i do not think it is a coincidence that wally's old cross cufflinks were a holdover from his design for a draft in which he seemed to be much more overtly, Aggressively antagonistic in his status as the center of attention, and was pitted against a much more straightforwardly heroic character who was on more equal footing with the rest of the neighbors. i Suspect that if any of what i just said comes into play, then perhaps the current iteration of welcome home is the way it is because it leaves room to acknowledge that even people who are hurt by this upholding of stagnation as the ideal willingly perpetuate it anyway, for a number of reasons.

BUT. to get back to the actual ask, since we have no idea what's actually gonna happen in welcome home at this point in time, let's say that none of what i just talked about comes up even once and that the concept of The Home is really what we should be focusing on here wrt the religious symbolism. i think it's less that the houses themselves are metaphors for deities and more that, like - the importance of homes in the world the neighbors live in is so great that the only way it can be expressed in terms that a human could understand would be through the lens of religious/spiritual beliefs. i am intrigued by the idea that each neighbor has their own relationship to this belief though, and how that may effect their environment in the future. Much To Think About.

[artemistorm]

Kitten

When I first got this ask I was really confused. I thought this was your way of reminding me to tell you my Wild angst ideas. Then I scrolled though my dash and discovered the queued ask game post from a couple days ago and it all made sense. I sure got myself didn't I? Thanks past me!

******

"Did you guys hear that?" Legend said. "That weird little noise just now?"

"What are you talking about?" Sky asked.

"That sound! I swear I heard a little high pitched 'meh!' sound"

"We just finished a noisy battle," Hyrule said with a finger in his ear. "It could be anything."

"Of course you didn't hear it you little bomb-happy gremlin!"

Hyrule gave him a goofy grin and a thumbs up.

"Go big or go home!" He said giving Wind a high-five.

"Mew!"

"There it is again!" Legend exclaimed. He turned his head side to side trying to zero in on the source. Instead he zeroed in on the writhing mass on Twilight's chest.

"Oh my goddess Twilight what's wrong with your chest?! Is there something in your shirt?"

"Oh this?" Twilight pointed to the wriggling lump climbing up his chest in the space between his tunic and undershirt.

A small head popped out from the collar of his tunic.

"Mew!" The small tan kitten chirped.

"You have a kitten? Wh--where did you even get that??" Legend stammered in surprise.

"She has a name," Twilight said gathering the kitten in his hand. "This is Star Fragment, or Star for short."

"Can I see? Can I hold her?" Wind bubbled reaching for the cat.

"In the middle of the battle, she fell on my head," Twilight explained. "Not sure where she came from, best guess is the fell out of a tree. I put her in my shirt for safe keeping."

"We are definitely keeping her! She can be our little mascot. Isn't that right little Star? Hi baby!" Hyrule cooed.

"We ought to put in the effort to try and find her mother before we take her with us," Twilight said looking up into the trees.

"Only you," Legend sighed. "Of course a kitten would fall on your head." He reached out and gave the kitten's head a little scratch.

[immovable-force-archive]

"Flashback"

Send “Flashback” to have your muse see one of my muse’s bad memories

January 19th, 2037Liquid Steel Brewery, NaobiThe Second Drug Raid

“We’re gonna do this the same as before. I go in first, and you all stay out here unless my emergency beacon goes off. Got it?” Kisama orders a large group of SWAT officers, each armed with large guns. Bayonets had been attached to the ends, some with glue and others with iron chains and locks. Outfits and body-armor were modified to have no loose pieces, especially around the neck and limbs. No side-arms, only a primary weapon that was ordered to be held tight at all times. Kisama left behind his hat, tie, and belt, and had his (gasp!) sleeves rolled down. Every object brought had to be considered to the finest detail, just on the off-chance Kisama needed back-up. With any luck, just like the first raid, he wouldn’t.

The officers nodded, and Kisama turned towards the entrance of the building before him. Liquid Steel Brewery… Naobi’s most popular bar, repurposed from an old warehouse. Even after closing off the street, he could hear bustling activity and laughter within. Guess everyone was too drunk or distracted to notice the officers waiting, just out of view from the windows.

Kisama can smell him. He’s in there waiting, just like the tipster said he’d be. A drug lord and gang leader that slipped away from Kisama’s grasp last time, and like hell is that happening again. His men didn’t know why Kisama kept going into these things alone, or why they had to prepare so specifically. No one in the NPD did, even his most trusted advisors. Some things are just too… unbelievable. It wasn’t fair to keep putting them so close to something they couldn’t even begin to understand, and Kisama couldn’t begin to explain. This ends tonight.

With a deep breath and slow exhale (coming out as a cloud against the falling snow), Kisama approached the front door and pushes his way inside.

Ahh… It’s so much warmer in here. As much as Kisama hated this part of town (because of all the bars and drunk activity, actually), he could see the appeal of this place. It’s like a lovely log cabin in the middle of a forest, washed in an orange glow from the mood-lighting over the tables. More lights are attached to the walls, along with lots of decorations. A large, mounted deer head, quirky neon signs, frames of various awards and newspaper clippings the bar received, a couple TVs… The place is beautiful. Kisama would have more appreciation for it if his nerves weren’t on fire, knowing who was hiding just under their nose.

All the patrons in the bar were laughing and chatting, not even noticing Kisama coming in. The sounds echoed around the room like a cafeteria, yet another way that made the place seem full and inviting. Mm… Doesn’t see that bastard up here. His scent is coming more from the back room. Must’ve broken in, the sneaky prick… Walking briskly across the room, Kisama debated asking someone for permission to see the back, but brushes it off. It’s too loud in here, and besides, what’s the guy gonna do? Tell him no? He heads straight for the staff door, steeling himself as he reaches for the knob. If this turns out to he a trap, like a few of his colleagues warned it could be, it’ll be waiting for him there.

                                                    POW

A strange, numb feeling washes over him, looking down at the bullet-hole in the wall in front of him… and more importantly, the bullet-hole in his right leg. Wh… How… That came from–

All the noise in the bar had come to a screeching halt, filling the air with an oppressive silence as Kisama slowly turned around.

Every person in the bar was standing. Every one had a gun, all different makes and models, pointed straight at him. Every single one stared with big, glowing, pink-tinted eyes.

                                         POW               POW

Two more gunshots ring out before Kisama can even tell who’s firing– One in the same leg, and another in the stomach, sending him crashing to the ground on his side. “AAAUgh–!” No– No!! Dammit!! That was the trap, how– how did he not see it!? He thought… he thought–!!

“Aaaahahahahaha! You make this too easy on me, Ravager!”

That voice…

The door behind Kisama had flung open. It’s too late to put his barrier up now, knowing that voice was already too close. All he could do was try to crawl away, trailing dark blood across the floor. There’s a snicker, and a kick to his side that flipped Kisama onto his back.

Standing over Kisama was a short man, couldn’t be an inch over 4'6’’, sickly pale and thin. His fingers (about the only visible skin apart from his face) were like bird talons or spider legs. The white sweater he wore was so big on him, it was like a dress. On his head was a wild mass of snow-white hair, unfitting of a man who looked so young.

Black eyes. Pink, glowing pupils. A smile that Kisama wishes he could forget, along with that laugh, along with that damn name.

“Don’t even think about moving, I’ve got 50 guys ready to shoot, and you know my boys never miss,” Raikaira gloats. “And I really don’t want to kill you, believe it or not, so don’t give me a reason!”

Blugh. Kisama coughs and sputters, hands clenched over the wound on his stomach. “Whh… wh-what… d-d'ya want…!?”

Raikaira rolls his eyes, stomping on Kisama’s leg and grinding his heel against the wounds. He almost screams, but manages to bite it back with a choked noise. “Stop being such a baby, you won’t bleed out from those wounds. And what’s wrong with just talking, huh? We didn’t have a chance to talk last time! You know, when you showed up uninvited and knocked my teeth out.” He grins wider, this time big enough to show two missing molars. “– Oh! But I almost forgot! Can’t have your little goon-squad interrupting us.”

Raikaira reaches down, spindly fingers carefully removing the gold pin attached to Kisama’s lapel. With a growl, Kisama grabs his wrist.

He hears the unified cock of 50 guns.

“Let go,” Raikaira snarls, his jovial tone gone in an instant.

“…”

“Wanna let down everyone in this city and die, just so you can rip my hand off? LET GO.”

“… Rrrg…”

He lets go.

“Good boy!” Raikaira beams, booping his nose with the end of the pin. “You know, I always wondered what this little thingy was… Thought you just had a stupid sense of style until I found out. You push one end like a pen, and it fires your emergency beacon, am I right? Alerts your guys outside that their wittle-baby-chief needs saving?” He pauses, then scoffs. “This is the part where I’m supposed to crush it or snap it in half, right? I’m sure that fires the beacon too. You think I got this far by being that stupid?”

One of the armed goons walks over, Raikaira delicately placing the pin in his hand. “There. Now it really is just you and me. Just like old times, right?” He kneels down, digging his knee into the wound in Kisama’s stomach. “No more stupid questions. You know what I want back.”

Back? “…!”

“CONNOR!”

With a click and a hiss, the monitor that had been displaying footage abruptly stopped, switching to a black screen and a high-pitched tone. The instant it did, Kisama had appeared in the doorway, a glare burning into the back of Connor’s head.

“Fuck’s sake– There you are! I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you! Don’t tell me you’ve been tryin’ to jack yourself into your memories again!” (Note to self: Never use the words ‘jack yourself into’ to describe anything again, no matter the context.) “Look, Lieutenant Anderson’s at a crime scene and couldn’t contact ya, so he asked me t’see if you were okay. So… call him or something, I dunno. Looked kinda worried.”

His stare lingers between Connor and the computer for a moment more, brows furrowed.

[thejokersenigma]

Christmas Fan Fiction Advent Calendar 2017 - Day 12 - Joker(Arkham) x Reader - Your Insane - Part 4

So this is part of another series (Your Insane) that I am writing. I am afraid that its not particularly Christmasy - I didn’t really see a way to make it Christmasy without really forcing it for no reason!

Hope you Enjoy anyway!

MASTERLIST

To say that I listened to Bullock would be considered more than a lie. I didn’t drop the Joker’s case. I couldn’t.

Instead, I was very careful to avoid working on it whilst I was at the station, instead, bringing the work back to my tiny flat to work on through the night. My only problem was - it was taking its toll on me.

My hours at the station were still full of paper work and phone calls, and then, when I got home, I spent the night working through any of the tiny leads I had to the infamous clown criminal’s whereabouts.

I felt I was finally managing to narrow down several spots that he might be found at, so I now spent my nights checking out these locations for hopes of a sign of the man.

So far, no luck. He didn’t appear to stay in the same place twice, and – going by the conversations I was having with the regulars – I was always a couple of steps behind him.

It was frustrating and not helping my sleep deprived mind.

Several times at the station I had been asked why I looked so tired and I had lied about a family emergency keeping me up most nights. They’d offered to give me a few days off, but the last thing I wanted to look was weak, and I had politely declined them on the fact that I was sure it would be dealt with soon and I could manage for now.

Except it wasn’t being dealt with soon.

I wasn’t getting anywhere with all these late nights at clubs, and I was running out of options. I knew I didn’t have every location the Joker frequented, so I couldn’t estimate how long I would have to wait until he revisited on of the places I had been to – there was no way it was practical for me to go to the same club every night for a month to find the man – besides, the staff might get suspicious and warn him. There was a reason the Joker was never where the police thought he’d be. He must have eyes everywhere.

I yawned widely as I looked up the second to last address I had to visit - planning to check it out in a few hours.

It was called Club 52 – seemed promising. I dressed up like I had every night this week, putting on the nicer clothes I owned – though even they still weren’t particularly impressive thanks to my limited budget.

When the cab pulled up outside the club that night I felt the familiar nerves hit me. I’d never been much for the clubbing scene, but I would have to get rid of Freya and become Officer Killian -  a woman who didn’t care about the intimidation of the sweaty mass of people writhing to the music in the small dance floor space beyond the doors.

I braced myself when I got to the front of the queue, pushing my way confidently into the main room, the heat and humidity hitting me straight away and making me want to bulk. I shifted my purse, so it sat more securely on my shoulder, and I pushed my way through to the bar on the opposite side of the room, and found a spare bar stool, ordering a cocktail whilst I surveyed the scene around me.

I could easily have completely missed him if I hadn’t been watching the right corner of the room at the right time. But, sure enough, I caught a glimpse of green hair and pale skin against the back wall, through the mass of people. I almost couldn’t believe I’d seen it – I wouldn’t have trusted myself to not have been hallucinating by this point just to end this hopeless goose chase. And when I looked back there was no sign of him.

But it was the only lead I’d had so far at any of the locations I had tried. Time to follow it up.

I slid off the barstool, drink in hand, and wound my way through the bodies to the edge of the room where I had seen the small flash of a possible sighting. When I got there - not surprisingly - there was still no sign of him, but there was a doorway that must lead into the back of the club.

I tired the door, and was surprised to find no extra locking mechanisms to keep any drunken people out, but I didn’t hesitate long, stepping through the door, though I reached inside my purse and gripped the gun I had hidden inside.

Maybe I should have considered ringing back up. Or though, who was I kidding? No one would believe me - and Bullock was likely to complete his threat and get me removed from any small chance I had for field work.

No, I was going to have to go this alone. I just needed to not be seen.

The corridor directly after the unguarded doorway was completely empty as well. That was good for me, but I couldn’t help but wonder that maybe I was wrong about the criminal activity here – maybe it was just an innocent backstage of the club for the staff.

The corridor seemed to run the length of the rest of the club, with a few doors leading off that looked like they led to storage rooms. That was, until I noticed a door that had been left ajar just a few metres ahead. When I peered through, it appeared to lead to a step of stairs that was clearly blocked off from the general staff usually.

Bingo.

I crept up the dark steps, not daring to search for a switch or get out my torch, instead I felt my way in the darkness, tripping on the edge of a few of the steps. At the top, I reached another door, but froze when I heard voices on the other side.

“Where are the canisters?” Growled a low voice.

“At the drop off point, Boss.” Replied another masculine voice. Canisters? He must mean the gas canisters. This had to be the Joker.

“Pick them up.” Came the order. “You know what to do with them.”

“Yes, Boss.” There was a pause. “What are you going to do, Boss?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, didn’t it Frosty?” Teased the growling man, and I could almost hear the creepy grin in his voice. “I’ve got a few things left to take care of here…”

“What about the –“ ‘Frosty’ began before he suddenly stopped like he had been silenced by a gesture from the other man.

“Don’t worry so much, Frosty…” He leered, “I’ll just take the back door.”

Bingo. He clearly knew something was wrong – whether he knew I was here, or if someone else was after him – but either way I knew where he was going to be, and I could finally catch him.

I quickly slipped back down the stairs, my heart skipping a beat when I missed the last step, but I recovered quickly, hopefully not making too loud a thump when I fell, and hurried further down the corridor to the back of the building.

Sure enough, at the end of the corridor, was a fire door with a heavy metal push mechanism to open it. I slipped out and found myself in the freezing wintery alleyway around the back of the club. I slipped silently behind the large industrial bins opposite the door, hugging my arms close to my body and pulling out my phone.

Though the Joker was only one man, I wasn’t underestimating him, despite what Bullock might think. Now I knew I had him, I’d call for back up - though I wouldn’t say it was me.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I need the police at Club 52, Hindle Avenue. The Joker is here.” I hurriedly gave the rest of the details in a gruffer voice with a slight accent. No one knew me that well yet to distinguish my voice. I was told a squad was on their way and to hang tight and hide or try to vacate the premises if I could. I remained behind my dustbins, teeth chattering against the bitter wind and my eyes trained on the door, not knowing how much time I had until the criminal tried to make his getaway.

Not much it seemed.

Barely 5 minutes after I had hung up, the door swung open and the Joker strolled out, trigger off the security light above the club door. I peered out around the edge of the bins and watched the man look up and down the alleyway before his eyes settle on the bins I was hiding behind.

“I must say, I’m impressed, ya’ know.” He said clearly across the alleyway. “You’re the first one to actually manage to track me this far… You must be new…” He mused, a sly smile spreading across his face.

I didn’t know how he knew where I was, but there was no point pretending I wasn’t there. I unfolded myself from my hiding place, stepping out from behind the bins and training my gun on him.

It was the first time I had seen him in person. And he didn’t disappoint.

He was quite tall and rather thin, though his white shirt -  open at the top two buttons - and purple suit seemed to fit his figure perfectly – I guess he had the money for tailor made clothes. His face was narrow and gaunt with a prominent chin and sharp cheekbones. His eyes were slightly sunken and dark like he hadn’t slept in weeks, but his eyes were full of character and drew me in. However, the most eye-catching things were his smile - painted a bright red and the makeup extending past his natural smile and up his cheeks – and his hair which was spiked up in a wild, yet somehow styled way - the green colour still vivid even in the poor lighting from the security light above the club door.

Throughout my entire surveillance of him, I didn’t say anything.

“Clown got your tongue?” The Joker teased, then gave a loud cackling laugh at his own joke, a haunting sound that made my blood cold.

“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say –“ I began, keeping my gun aimed at him, and trying to keep my voice steady despite my sudden nerves and the cold that bit at my skin.

“Oh, don’t worry about that…” Drawled the Joker, dismissing it with a causal flick of his hand, “It’s not necessary.” He grinned. For a man with a gun trained at his chest, he seemed very relaxed.

“- can be used against you.” I continued, and the Joker sighed loudly at my persistence. “You have the right to an attorney –“

“I think I lost that right years ago.” Muttered the Joker as he listened to my speech, tapping his foot on the tarmac and flicking his hand impatiently, waiting for me to get it over with. “Are you done?” He asked irritably when I eventually stopped.

I nodded.

“Good, can I go now?” He asked, pointing down the alleyway and for all I could tell he seemed to be genuine. I frowned at him, not playing his games.

All of a sudden, the sound of sirens punctuated the air. “Ahh…” The Joker said, rolling his head, suddenly seeming to understand, “You called back-up. You’re not as stupid as I thought.”

Despite the fact he now knew there were more cops arriving, he still didn’t bother to make an attempt to leave - In fact, he seemed to be waiting patiently for them.

It didn’t take long, there was a screech of brakes and I could see the lights flashing against the brick wall at the entrance to the alleyway. Now I just had to wait for someone to find us.

Finally, someone decided to scout the alley, spotting me, and then the Joker opposite and crying for his colleagues. They ran up the small distance to us and, as they came into the reach of the security light, I recognised a few of them – none of them I was happy to see.

Officer Parkins was the first one to finally acknowledge me. “Miss Killian. Should have known you’d be behind all this…” He drawled, swaggering up to me – he was almost as bad as the Joker.

“That’s Officer Killian to you.” I snapped at him, too tired and irritable to put up with his bullshit right now.

“Oooo kittens, got claws.” Grinned the Joker at the two of us.

“Shut up, clown.” Snapped Parkins, the Joker just grinned wider, clearly enjoying that he’d hit a nerve.

Parkins turned back to me, “Alright Killian, we’ve got it from here.” He said, brushing me off.

“No way!” I snarled. “This is my case! I tracked this guy down this far!”

“Last time I checked, you were an innocent bystander – at least, that’s what my radio said.” He grinned, and I faltered. Damn I knew that would back fire somehow.

Making the most of me wavering, Parkins signalled to his men to secure the clown. They moved in on him from all sides, so he was surrounded, all with guns trained on him in case he made any sudden movement. “Hand over your weapons, Clown.” Ordered Parkins from behind the wall of cops. The Joker obliged him without protest, a content smile on his face as he pulled out 2 pistols from within his jacket and a pen knife from his trousers. He held them out agreeably, but no sooner had Parkins grabbed them, then an invisible signal seemed to be given and a well-aimed punch hit the Joker straight in the chest, winding him and causing him to double over.

“Hey! That wasn’t necessary –“ I cried, stepping forward.

When the Joker finally got enough air back in his lungs he let out a loud, echoing laugh that seemed to bounce off the walls around us.

The next hit was a fist to the face, knocking him sideways, but he managed to catch himself and remain on his feet. “Stop it!” I snapped, pulling at the arm of the guy who threw the punch, but he just shook me off like an irritating fly, not taking his eyes off the laughing Joker, whose lip was now freely bleeding.

The hits came faster now, from all sides until he fell to the floor, curled into a protective foetus as much as he could, but still laughing and grinning the whole time, despite the blood pouring from his possibly-broken nose and cut lip.

I tired as hard as I could to break the Officers out of their beating frenzy, wrenching their arms backwards as they went to hit, trying to shove them off balance so their aim went wide. Eventually one of the men I was trying to pull back from the Joker’s prone figure, shoved me backwards and I tripped over my own feet landing heavily on my behind and grazing my hand where I flung my arm out, crying out in pain.

The officer turned to me with an sick twisted smile, “See, this is why women shouldn’t be cops.” He leered, “They can’t handle it when things get dirty.” Content with this statement, and me lying on the floor, he turned back to this enjoyment of beating the Joker bloody. I, however, was not content to leave it there, and I scrambled to my feet, pulled at his shoulder so he turned towards me, and punched him squarely in the face. I hit him so hard he went over like a tone of bricks, crashing into the men next to him and – thanks to him being a rather large man – causing a domino like effect, knocking down the next two guys.

My wrist hurt like hell and I shook it to try to relieve the pain. “You little bitch.” Snarled one of the officers, extracting themselves from beneath the dead weight of the guy I just punched – and now coming straight at me.

I wasn’t sure what do to, still slightly reeling from punching the other guy, and my attacker took me by surprise by running at me, knocking us both to the ground. My head hit the tarmac hard and I couldn’t help but gasp out in pain again. The man pinned me to the ground, holding my upper arms, but I reached up and grabbed his shoulders, wiggling my legs out from beneath his body and curling them up against my chest, placing my feet on his torso and bracing against him, forcing him backwards enough to then be able to send out several sharp, rapid kicks to his pelvis, stomach and finally connecting with his chin, sending him flying backwards.

Once he hit the ground, he didn’t move either.

During this time however, the other officer I had managed to knock to the floor had got up as well, now seeing his other colleague in a heap he, too, turned for me. I was glad I had managed to knock the guns out of their hands when they’d fallen, or else I was sure there’d be a bullet in my head right now judging by the look in the crazed man’s eyes as he came towards me. My knuckles throbbed, and my head ached, I was starting to feel myself tire - I wasn’t how much for of this I could handle.

The Joker’s laughter continued on, those it was weaker now, as he found it harder to breath under all the kicks landing on his torso. I sought out something to help me, and I caught sight of my gun which had fallen from my hand when I had been knocked over the first time. I scrambled my way backwards and snatched up the gun.

But then I paused. I couldn’t shoot these guys - they were police officers!

But I looked at them again and I no longer saw police officers. Nothing they were doing could possibly be considered inside the law. They were just simple thugs. And they were trying to attack me. I could see the look in their eyes when each cop had rounded on me. They weren’t looking to just subdue me - they had wanted to do some serious damage to me.

I tried to remember back to my police training – only use as much force as necessary to deal with the situation - well my physical strength wasn’t going to be enough anymore. The gun in my hand was my only other method of protection.

I aimed it at the man making fast advances at me and shot him in the foot. He fell with a cry of agony, but an odd possession seemed to have come over him and -  alongside his rage at being shot - he was able to push himself up to his feet, continuing to stagger towards me. I had to do it.

I pulled the trigger and he dropped down dead.

The sound of the gunshots snapped the other two men away from the Joker, their attention now on me.

Their eyes screamed crazy and dangerous. “What are you doing you bitch?!” Demanded Parkins, advancing on me quickly. I didn’t even hesitate this time - as Parkin was still armed with his own gun -  and I aimed at his chest, but my hand was shaking too much with the rush of the situation and the bullet went wide, striking his shoulder instead. Parkins faltered, crying out in agony, before he turned on me again, reaching for the weapon in his belt. I shot him again, this time, aiming too low and hitting his stomach, but he went down now.

The last standing officer looked at what I had done and ran back down the alleyway, towards the cruisers. I watched numbly, knowing that I was done for now. I had murdered one person, possibly two, and who knew the conditions of the other ones.

Suddenly a hand grabbed the gun from my grip, firmly, but not forcibly, though it didn’t matter as my hands were so numb now, that I let go easily. A single shot went off and the escaping officer fell down dead.

The gun was dropped back into my lap and a giddy laughter rang out behind me as the Joker slumped back against the wall, bruised, bloodied and out of breath.

I came slightly back to myself, struggling to my wobbly legs and making my way over to the collapsed clown. Without thinking, I grabbed his limp arm and slapped a cuff onto his wrist, the other I locked around mine. After all of this, I wasn’t letting him get away now.

But that was all I could manage, and I then fell against the wall next to the Joker, out of breath and energy.

I stared out at the bodies that lay on the tarmac, Parkins still moaning as he bled out. “What have I done…!” I moaned, putting my head in my hands, exhaustion overwhelming me. The Joker didn’t say anything.

Suddenly sirens filled the air once more. I snapped my head up, looking down at the alley way as though I could see the police cruisers heading this way. “Shit.”  I muttered, “What am I going to do?” I panicked to myself, almost forgetting the criminal that sat next to me.

“Give the gun to me.” Said the Joker next to me holding out his hand. I frowned at his palm.

“Um… yeah, no.” I muttered, not in the mood for his jokes.

“Aww, come on, doll…” He drawled, “I’m your only way outta this.”

“And how did you work that out?” I asked, humouring him and finally looking at his face - barely managing to stop myself cringing at the site of him.

Blood stained his pale skin - now mostly dry – from his bloody nose, lip and a few shallow cuts on his cheeks and forehead that continued to ooze slowly. His eyes were puffy and bruised, and his hair was messy and matted in some areas.

“I’m already in for life.” He grinned, “Killing a few other insignificant cops ain’t gonna change my sentence much.”  He winked -  as well as he could with his swollen eyes.

I seriously considered this now. He had a point, but could I live with that? And could I trust him not to turn me in? I didn’t mind giving him the gun – I was pretty sure it was empty now. I eyed him suspiciously and he watched me back with unsettling calmness. He looked sincere, but he was a criminal.

But… I was pretty sure the gun was empty anyway…

I handed the gun over. “Much obliged, doll…” He grinned, checking the chamber, I was right – it was empty.

What I hadn’t bargained for was the Joker digging into his jacket pocket with his uncuffed hand and pulling out several bullets which he expertly loaded into the gun. “Now, doll…” He purred, admiring the gun in his grip, “Let’s go for a little walk.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. I could have smacked my head on the wall and I almost wished I still had my gun just so I could shoot myself now before the Joker dragged it out. “Why?!” I demanded scowling at him as he trained the gun on me and got to his feet, forcing me to follow him.

“Aww, don’t give me that look, doll…” He tutted, “I just want to give you a personal tour of this city… You are new after all…” He grinned slyly, a sinful spark in his eye.

I didn’t say anything.

“Aww, come on, kitten…” He whined, “This is going to be an even longer night if you’re not going to even talk to me…” He grinned painfully.

I just glared at him.

“We’ll work on that.” He dismissed with a wave on his hand, uncaring. “Before we go though…” The Joker drawled looking at me slyly, “Hand over the key.” He declared. I frowned at him, unsure what he meant, but then he gestured with the gun to the handcuffs between us. Understanding hit me and I rolled my eyes in exasperation as I in my pocket for the dug the key and reluctantly handed it over.

I expected him to uncuff us then, but instead he pocketed it in his suit, patting the pocket, “It’s a big city… Wouldn’t want to lose you…” He grinned devilishly.

And with a gun in my side, the Joker walked me out the back of the alley - pausing only for a moment to fire one of the bullets in Parkins, silencing his groans of agony – before he dragged me  off into the night, the both of us still handcuffed together and the night closing in around us.