#well actually it says shovel or trowel

[solarpunkani]

Oh yeah also wanted to share with the Sunflowers that this weekend I’m gonna do one of those invasive plant pulling events in a local park!! Its gonna be my first time going to one and I’m excited (and a lil nervous but yknow). A friend’s also coming with so I don’t gotta be alone, which I appreciate because A: nervous about going alone and B: she doesn’t even like plants or outdoorsy stuff so we have to stan her putting up with my idea of Fun Activity being ‘yanking plants out of the ground’

All this to say I urge yall to go live out your solarpunky dreams. And apparently the native plant society’s website is a good place to start finding events like these.

#out of queue #ani rambles #‘ani thats obvious’ clearly not enough #i always thought these were a like ‘if you know you know’ kinda thing. like a word of mouth thing #or ‘if you don’t walk on the street and find a poster taped to a light pole you simply aren’t meant to know’ #but no. all you gotta do is go to your county’s native plant society’s event page and they’ll be like #‘COME HELP US. HERES THE DAY. HERES THE TIME. BRING SUPPLIES. HANG OUT. #man. i need to get gardening gloves huh. #and maybe a tool to bring other than a trowel #well actually it says shovel or trowel #it also says buckets or garden wagons but uh #can’t bring those bc im staying at my friends house for awhile

[anxresi]

…Isn’t it a bit late for April Fools Day?! 🤡🤣

I was going to just write a few snarky remarks in the tags, but fuck it… I have a bit of time on my hands right now, so let’s tackle these somewhat disingenuous statements one at a time shall we? Starting from the one in the top left hand corner, and working our way anti-clockwise around… *Cracks knuckles*

1. Yep. SO nice in fact, she doesn’t have any other noticeable character trait. ‘Niceness’ by itself doesn’t make you an interesting, intriguing or compelling character… it just makes you boring. In fact, I’m gonna have to work pretty damn hard to finish this off before I nod off just thinking about her… 🥱

2. …And this is a GOOD thing? It just proves how much the writers were DESPERATE to make her Chloe’s replacement they rushed virtually everything to do with her, including her rapid induction to ‘Hero’. Most of the other Miraculous users had to wait AGES to get their chance, and Lil Miss Perfect just turns up in Paris and gets her chance virtually the first day. It wasn’t earned, it wasn’t believable… it was just handed to her on a silver platter because… reasons. 😩

3. So what? This is just yet more evidence that this girl, a TOTAL STRANGER up to S4 is all of a sudden being treated like the queen of all Mary Sues. Just listen to all the endless shilling about her from the rest of the cast (especially Marinette and, more depressingly Plagg) Now imagine them said in Thomas Astruc’s voice as he lays his case against Chloe… and everything should become clear.

4. This means virtually nothing. Everyone gets their Miraculous permanently at the end of S5, so the fact she gets her’s 5th is just down to a quirk in sequence. If anything, I’m surprised she didn’t get it sooner… in another gratuitous ‘Take That’ to diehard Chloe fans… 😬

5. I don’t even have anything to say about this.. it calculates the precise sum of 0.00% in terms of her worth of a character. You got anything better?

6. Oh, you mean the same acting ‘skills’ that she used to manipulate her sister into pretending she ‘loved’ her and to carry that useless charm about?The thing is, everyone might’ve SAID her talent was great in that AWFUL Queen Banana episode… but it actually wasn’t. Just because the other characters say she’s the next Sophia Loren, doesn’t mean the viewers don’t have eyes and ears. But I guess if they’re stupid enough to fall for Lila’s incredibly obvious lies when the plot demands it, anything’s possible…

7. What, you like her colorful shoes? This is possible the only one I’ll grant you (they ARE pretty snazzy) but at the end of the day, they’re just pointless aesthetics. Anyone else could be wearing them, and the garish colors can’t blind us to her all-conquering mediocrity. Moving on…

8. Here’s a hint: NEVER use the word ‘objectively’ when the opposite is clearly true. She’s not just ‘sweet’, spending time with her is akin to being pinned down in Wonka’s chocolate factory being force-fed candy by all the Oompa-Lumpas until you literally explode. Not a pleasant experience in other words, thanks to the writers laying this sole facet on with a literal trowel and shovel.

As for the ‘sass’ part… nope, not seeing it. Unless you mean the occasional scene when she ‘deals’ with her sister… these parts were obviously only put in to throw red meat for the Chloe-hating sheep out there could hoot and holler at the screen (probably waking their parents up in the process) whilst screaming “SEE? THAT’S WHAT YOU GET!!” Well, I hope you’re happy now. You hapless lame-o’s.

9. Mary Sues don’t get ‘character assassinated’. They get bigged-up, cheered, given every resource in the show to be Da Best… but NEVER wrecked in that manner. Her sister, on the other hand… 😢

I would argue though, that what she is, is WORSE than character assassination… she’s an individual that never should’ve existed in the first place. In fact, I’d barely even describe her as a character. A plot device, a waste of space, a product of Thomas Astruc’s inexplicable raging hatred against Chloe maybe, but not a serious character. As the popular meme goes, Change My Mind (you won’t).

10. …You’re REALLY scraping the bottom of the barrel now, aren’t you?

Besides, this hasn't even been confirmed yet. We don't even know anything about the elusive Mr Lee, or even what he might think about his daughter being forcibly adopted by the Mayor. Something which I'm sure a show of such grandiosity and ambition will go into at great length.. Nah, just kidding!

Next, you’ll be telling me that somehow her sexuality is another reason to think she’s the best thing since sliced bread…

11. And there we have it (sigh). How terribly predictable. 🙄

I’ve already done a whole post thingie about how her being a lesbian and having a short-lived crush on Marinette was just imposed to get unearned brownie points from underrepresented communities when they won’t actually do anything with said revelation, so I’ll keep this short. Sufficed to say though, I feel like starting a hashtag… #TheGaysDeserveBetterThanZoe. Get it trending, peeps! 😎

12. Whatever you’re smoking, can I have some of it? This is crossing the line from ‘delusional’ to ‘crazy’ now. She’s remained as static as a statue since her opening episode, has NO room for change and growth due to the fact she was only brought in to replace Chloe and in that uncomfortably dull niche she’ll stay. Sorry, but just because you wish that she’d had any kind of interesting development doesn’t mean she has. Facts have a funny habit of getting in the way of the truth.

13. In turns of ticking boxes for diversity, French-Americans aren’t exactly a high priority IMHO. But sure if you think that makes her the bees knees (pun intended), you go ahead and celebrate it. 👍

14. So in conclusion, I do agree that Zoe Lee is indeed ‘Best’ character… (hears sharp intake of breathes all round) oops, I’m sorry. What I meant was ‘Pest’ character… in that just having her buzzing about in all her flawless Mary-Sue glory makes you just wanna reach for the bug spray.

You know, like you would for a pesky wasp during a delicious picnic. Because she’s Vesperia, get it? 🤪

The only upside to this sad situation is, from what I can tell (being strictly a non-watcher these days, you figure out why) the writers half-agree with me.

After all for such an 'amazing' character who's apparently achieved so much in her short time in the show... why is she barely featured? They must know, somewhere down deep in their artistic brains, she's a narrative dead zone.

A collection of tiresome off-the-shelf quirks, traits and spare parts (someone here said she was like a bad fanfiction self-insert... ABSOLUTELY RIGHT), loosely held together with visible stitching and hastily assembled together like Frankenstein's Monster for the most cynical of reasons.

She has no arguable reason to be in the show, apart from being a far inferior replacement to the potential mine of character development that someone like Chloe could've represented.

I guess Thomas really does hate complex characters who may overshadow his precious Marinette... or school bullies who traumatized him so much as a lil kid he specifically wrote someone into his show he could subsequently and systematically destroy (as the rumors go... but it wouldn't surprise me with THAT guy).

Now I’m off to bed, but let me end on at least ONE positive note for this much-maligned individual: She’s EXACTLY the kind of character a show like Miraculous Ladybug deserves… and if you like her, you deserve her too.

Now, good night. 🌝 🛌

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #ladybug #chloe bourgeois #ml salt #ml #marinette dupain-cheng #disney #Zoe #zoe lee

[kazumist]

aki!!! 11 with cyno for ur 1k event ? WUWUU CONGRATS ULE ATE (∩˃o˂∩) ♡

prompt: brushing dirt off of their face

note: i got a bit carried away,, this is also slightly based off a tot card (just the idea of cyno thinking that you could never know that he's actually bad at something. nothing big, really) also thank u amai!! i hope you like it mwa <3

1k milestone event: open!

if you were thinking, what can the general mahamatra not do? well, here’s your answer!

it’s gardening. 

cyno was not born with a green thumb, unfortunately. every plant that he tries to grow ends up dying, even if he takes care of them pretty well! (kind of, if accidentally watering the plants too much or sometimes forgetting to water them at all counts as a “good job” for gardening). and because of that, cyno vowed that he'd never let you know that he’s actually bad at something.

that is, until the day you asked him to do some gardening with you.

“love, can you hand me the trowel?” you asked cyno, who had a concentrated look on his face as he looked into the flower pot in front of him.

“cyno?”

“cynoooo, earth to cyno? hello?” you called out, lifting a hand and waving it in front of him. that seemed to help him snap out of the trance he was in, perking his head up and turning it in your direction now. “sorry, what was that?”

“i said, can you hand me the trowel? the one next to you.”

cyno looks to where you pointed, and well, confused is an understatement. there were just a few gardening tools by his side, and cyno doesn’t have the slightest clue what a trowel is. he stares at the tools laid out, trying hard to think what a trowel could possibly be. he had to act fast, or else you’d get suspicious about why he’s taking so long to get what you’re asking for.

but with absolutely zero proper knowledge of gardening, he had to pick a random tool. he just hopes that he’s right.

“cyno… that’s a spade,” you sweatdropped.

goddamn.

“oh, you’re right. sorry, they looked similar.” looked similar his ass, what even is a spade? isn’t that a suit in a deck of cards?

“it’s okay! and you’re right, they look kinda similar. but what i’m actually asking for is the mini shovel that’s a bit curved over there.”

cyno had never felt more relieved when you told him that he was right. if he were to be wrong, then he would’ve blown his cover. he doesn’t know if he can keep this up much longer, especially when he hasn’t even planted a single seed in the fertilizer yet.

seeing as your lover was trapped in his thoughts again, he didn’t seem to notice that he had a bit of dirt on his cheek. “love, look at me for a second.”

“hm?”

a hand reaches up to cyno’s face as you gently brush the dirt off of his face. “you didn’t realize that you got some dirt there, you said as you slightly laughed at his blank yet a tad bit surprised expression.

yeah, you could never find out that he actually doesn’t know a thing about gardening.

bonus:

“love, did you know that i’m a flower? because i just need somebudy like you.”

“cyno, are you seriously giving me pick-up lines based on flowers just because we’re gardening right now?”

“cmon, can you at least admit that was witty?”

“uh-huh, whatever you say.”

#( writings ) #( aki hits — 1k! ) #from: amaiaqt #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #cyno x reader #cyno fluff #cyno imagines #cyno #x reader #this was so fun to write #i finished this at like 12am BUT STILL

[paytato435]

Chapter 3: You His Pet or Somethin'?

The Knife Set

Leo was in a pickle. He hadn’t realized how big of a pickle yet though. Like, he thought it was maybe one of those cocktail sized ones you’d skewer onto a sandwich. As it turned out, he’d discovered pickles could get pretty big. Like, he was pretty sure Raph could fit in this one- this metaphorical pickle anyway. Not a literal pickle… are there any pickles in the fridge now? He was getting a little hungry now that he thought about it…

“So it was you?!” Mikey’s voice broke in surprise as he had just watched his older brother turn one of his kitchen knives into a mystic katana.

Leo froze. He had not seen the box turtle behind him. Turning his head just slightly, he could see his little brother in the doorway, his finger pointing accusingly right at him.

“You’re the one who keeps stealing my kitchen knives!”

“Stealing?” Leo asked, touching his finger to his lip. “I was just borrowing the one…”

“LIAR!” Mikey stormed into the kitchen and gestured to his knife block, where, of the dozen knives that had been there less than two weeks ago, there now remained only two.

“You keep using my knives to make more swords!”

Leo bit his lip.

“Look, it’s not my fault they keep breaking under the pressure-”

“You’ve broken them?! HOW?”

“I don’t know, I guess they just aren’t as strong as you’d think they’d be,” Leo shrugged, twirling the new katana into his scabbard.

“Kitchen knives are meant for chopping food, not hacking apart bad guys!” Mikey sobbed.

“Well what am I supposed to do then? I need my katanas!”

“Go ask Todd to make you another garden trowel, I don’t know! And get me a new set of knives!”

Leo sighed loudly. Asking for a new set of knives was fair, but it would be a huge pain. He was also having trouble getting a hold of Todd. Turns out his puppy park was going through some legal trouble about zoning requirements or something, his forge likely included. Maybe Leo could just buy himself a knife set too, but he was really tired of his swords cracking under the pressure.

“A garden trowel as a sword?” Leo and Mikey snapped their heads around to see Casey sitting at the breakfast bar, not even four feet away from them.

“How long have you been there?” Leo asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Long enough,” Casey shrugged. “But really, tell me how a garden trowel makes for a good sword.” His tone pitched up in questioning.

“I thought you knew everything about us,” Leo tipped his head. “We can make our weapons out of pretty much anything, as long as we have our ninpo.”

“Well yeah, I knew that, but wouldn’t an actual sword work better?” Casey asked, shoveling around his cereal with a spoon.

“I don’t suppose you have one lying around here somewhere?” Leo asked, lowering his head and jutting his chin out.

“Jus’ get Synth to make you one. Thas’ what you did in the fujure,” Casey said through a mouthful of cereal.

“Synth? Who’s that?”

Casey’s eyes widened as he took a bite of Frosted Flakes. (He’d been getting more adventurous with his food choices lately.) “You don’t know Synth? The greatest swordsman of all time?!”

“Ok I’m going to pretend you didn’t just rank me below anyone else in terms of swordsmanship and skip to the part where I say; nooooo?” 

“Well you should, if my memory serves, he works for the Battle Nexus.”

“For Big Mama?” Mikey piped up. “Sounds like he’s probably up to no good.”

“He made… makes weapons for her champions,” Casey explained, fidgeting with his hands nervously. “As for Big Mama, I can’t say whether or not he’s a fan of hers. He’s not big on talking about himself. He did get along well enough with you though, Leo.”

“I can’t imagine he’s cheap,” Leo scoffed. “After that last Jupiter Jim premiere I’m broke!”

“You really should get a job, Leo,” Mikey gave him a side-eye, but Leo waved him off.

“I’m sure you can work something out with him,” Casey encouraged, smiling. “Sensei always had a way of brokering a deal.”

Leo was not at all surprised to hear he was still very much the face-man in the future. But at the same time, he still wasn't used to hearing someone talk about himself like he knew more about him than his own self. It felt tangential to the whole Hamato destiny stuff, like he just had to be what they told him to.

And while a part of him wanted to resist the idea based solely on contrarianism, Casey’s bowling ball eyes were just so damn reflective. Like, Leo thought his face might explode or something if he didn’t go along with it. So he took a step back and thought it over. What was the worst that could happen?

“All right, sure. I’m sure we can check out this Synth guy on our way back from like… wherever Mikey gets his kitchen utensils from,” Leo conceded, straightening up.

Casey froze.

“We?” He sputtered, only to frantically grasp at the bits of cereal he accidentally sputtered onto his chin.

“Yes, we, this is your idea isn’t it? You, me, and Mikey,”

“Why do I have to go? You’re doing this for me!” Mikey cut in.

“You know I’m not going to get the right set if you don’t come with us,” Leo pointed out.

Mikey made a 'I wish I could say otherwise but we all know better' face.

“Leo, I… you know why I can’t go up there…” Casey stumbled, shrinking into his chair. “It’s, it’s all so open…”

In a completely necessary gesture, Leo whipped out Mikey’s ex-kitchen knife and pointed it right down Casey’s nose.

“You can’t hide down here forever kid. If this means anything to you then you’re coming with me.”

“It doesn’t,” Casey shrugged. “It’s your sword.”

“Oh come on!” Leo collapsed over on himself. “You aren’t even a little bit invested in my path to becoming the greatest ninja of all time?”

Mikey popped up next to Casey and made him jump.

“What Leo is trying to say, is that he wants you to come with him because we’re family and we should spend more time outside together. And it’ll be fun!” Mikey starting doing a little dance up at that last bit, shaking invisible maracas.

Casey looked like he was starting to regret his own idea, but eventually nodded.

“Yeah! Team Baja Blast is headed out, baby!” Mikey jumped onto the bar table and pointed at the ceiling.

“Wait a minute, you’re broke!” Mikey pointed back down at Leo. Leo looked away.

“You were gonna make ME pay for the knives that YOU ruined!”

“I didn’t say anything of that nature,” Leo scoffed. “Casey, how much money do you have?”

Casey started to pull out his wallet but Mikey stopped him.

“Oh no no no NO!” Mikey scolded the slider. “You are not putting this on him!”

“Well how am I supposed to get you your knife set huh?”

Mikey squinted one eye and jabbed it into Leo’s plastron.

“Get. A. JOB!”

-

“You his pet or somethin’?”

“I don’t get it Casey, how am I supposed to be a ninja, a student, and have a job all at the same time?” Leo whined as they walked to the Grand Nexus Hotel. Without the money to pay for his lost knives, Mikey refused to join them. Leo would have to pay him back another time.

“How should I know? I have just as much experience as you here,” Casey raised his arms helplessly. But when Leo looked over to him he was smiling wickedly.

“What with that face?” Casey knew that look all too well.

“Do you think I could make money being a ninja?” Leo asked, tipping his head to one side.

“Like a mercenary???” Casey asked, concerned.

“I was thinking more like a bounty hunter,” Leo shrugged, crossing his hands behind his head.

“And who’s paying you? I can’t see you working with the police.”

“Oooooo now there’s an idea,” Leo spun around walking backwards. “Take money from bad guys for taking out bad guys.”

Casey tried to process what Leo was saying, but Leo kept going.

“Pops and Raph would hate that though,” he shrugged, dodging between people. “Honor and all that. Man, it blows that Pops is being more stingy with money lately.”

“Sorry,” Casey lowered his head. He knew that their allowances had spread out thinner now that Casey was living with them.

“Aw shit, no man, I didn’t mean it like that,” Leo corrected himself. He sighed. “Maybe Hueso will let me work for him. Surely he’s gotten over the unicorn incident by now…” Leo started mumbling to himself, so Casey turned his attention to the city around him.

It was still intimidating, for sure, but he was starting to think the walks with Mikey had helped some. The worst part by far were the cars. He couldn’t believe that there were machines that could fly past him at the speed of Krang hounds and that was safe and normal. He had been in the Turtle Tank, sure, but it was a whole other thing to be surrounded by hundreds of them.

They came out of nowhere, stopped suddenly, and everytime he heard a horn… he was over it, man. The only thing keeping him grounded was Leo. The way he moved through the crowds so easily, the ease at which he navigated town, Casey had a hard time believing this was the same world his sensei grew up in. Surely he’d fallen into some stranger alternate universe.

“We’re here!” Leo announced, waving his hand in front of Casey’s face. He blinked. He hadn’t realized he’d spaced out.

“It’s huge!” Casey gasped. It dwarfed every other building on the block, and that was saying something.

“Duh, Big Mama doesn’t do anything that isn’t big,” Leo rolled his eyes. “Speaking of, you do have some idea of how to get to this Synth guy, right? I’m not itching to be making a deal with her.”

Casey folded his hands in front of his chin and gave an empty smile.

“You have no idea what we’re doing, do you?” Leo guessed.

“No…?” Casey lied to nobody.

Leo nodded.

“I’m starting to see some resemblances between each other,” Leo winked. “Let’s go!”

-

Casey had never been in a hotel before, but he was pretty sure they weren't usually bigger on the inside than on the out, nor did he think every bellhop could possibly look exactly the same as one another.

Thankfully, Leo walked in like he owned the place, so all Casey had to do was follow.

Leo made his way up to the front desk, where a fox yokai as desk manager stood at attention.

“Do you have a reservation, gentlemen?” he asked, barely glancing at them.

“We’re here to see Master Synth, my fuzzy friend. Does he have a minute to spare?” Leo announced, his hands on his hips as he gave a confident smile.

The fox sighed and pulled out his radio.

“Synth that turtle from the Kraken fight is back again,” he groaned. “And he’s brought a friend. Says he wants a minute.”

A voice like tin cans dragging on cement answered with a concise “Nah.”

“Nah?” Leo raised his voice.

“Nah,” said the voice again.

The desk manager put his radio away.

“Sorry about that gentlemen, he’s busy.”

“That wasn’t very professional of him! He didn’t even hear what we came here for!”

“I could redirect you to someone else if you let me know what you need,” the desk manager offered, but he was clearly hoping Leo wouldn’t take him up on the offer.

“Do you have anyone else who makes swords? Preferably ones that don’t break under mystic influence?” Leo stuck his hip out to one side.

“All of our weapons manufacturers are contractually obligated to only make weapons for the Nexus,” the fox explained. “You’ll need to take your business elsewhere.”

“A contract? Is there any way we can get him out of it?” Casey asked.

The fox laughed.

“Nobody wants out of a weapons deal with Big Mama,” he sneered. “It’s the most lucrative business in the Hidden City; and Synth’s the best there is. You can’t afford him.”

Leo pouted, and turned away from the counter.

“Fine, we’ll go look elsewhere.”

Casey turned to follow him, but with hesitation. He’d never seen Leo give up this easily. Unless…

When they’d put some distance between themselves and the front desk, Leo gave him his classic mischievous grin.

“You have an idea,” Casey smirked.

“Come on, it’s about time we do some ninja sneakin’ about.” 

-

With a little assistance from a briefly unattended laundry bin and a service elevator, the boys quickly found their way to one of the lowest basement levels of the Grand Nexus Hotel.

“You wouldn’t happen to know your way around down here, would you?” Casey asked Leo as he shifted in the bin to pull out his phone.

“I haven’t been this far down before, but I’ve never seen Synth either so I figured he had to be somewhere I haven’t been,” Leo grunted, pulling on a pair of bellhop trousers in the cramped space. As he brought them up, he elbowed Casey in the face.

“Hey, watch it! You know you could just step out of the bin and put that on.”

Leo hopped out and adjusted the bellop's hat atop his head.

“I got a map.”

“A map?” Leo said to the suspicious laundry hamper as the elevator dinged. “How’d you-?”

But the doors were opening and staff were waiting to get on.

Leo quickly pushed the bin out into the hallway, apologizing as the confused staff members scooched around him as best they could. Once the door closed, Casey poked his arm up from under the towels and pointed down the hall.

“That way, and to the left at the end of the hall.”

“Casey, did you hack your way into the Nexus servers?”

“I have my ways,” he whispered. “Trust me.”

Leo could see the faint purple glow of Casey’s phone jostling around as he pushed the cart in the way he was directed. This kid was good.

When he turned the corner, Leo saw that the hall widened out significantly, and that the usual wallpaper and decor gave way to solid stone. The lights overhead became cold white fluorescents. The bin’s wheels bumped over the rubber stop of the end of the carpet and onto worn asbestos floor tiles.

“What are we looking for?” Leo whispered.

“Third door on your right,” Casey whispered back, readjusting himself.

The doors were metal painted in chipped orange paint, and were padlocked shut. Leo guessed 8008, but the lock buzzed red.

“What are you doing?” Casey asked, hearing the noise.

“Do you have a way to unlock the door? I left my purple at home.”

Casey popped his head out and looked at the lock.

“Did you try boob?”

“Of course I did!”

Casey glanced back at his phone. “Huh, that usually works. Give me a minute…”

“WHO’S OUT THERE??”

The boys jumped, and Casey nearly fell out of the laundry bin. It was that awful grating voice from before.

“Uh… room service?” Casey answered, his voice cracking.

“I didn’ order any-” but Synth made the mistake of opening up the door for them, and Leo pushed right on by him to get inside. “-hey!”

Leo looked around the room and whistled in awe.

“Hey hey, this is a pretty sweet shop you got here Synthia, you might make my brother jealous.”

Casey hopped out of the cart and looked around too, and looked just as impressed. There were swords, spears, and all kinds of blades hanging around everywhere. From the ceiling, mounted to the walls, in barrels and crates around the edges of the room, anywhere there was room, there were sharp edges to fill the space. There were a couple workbenches in the back, an anvil, and a massive forge blazing brightly in the otherwise rather dark room.

“You’re that turtle from the front desk!” Synth growled, keeping the door open. “You need to get outta here. You're not welcome!”

He was a short, bobcat-like Yokai, with red fur and cloven feet like a goat. He was shorter than Casey, but Leo guessed he was probably a few years older than himself

At first glance he was afraid this Synth would lack experience, and Casey seemed to be appraising him too; but he appeared excited enough to see the yokai, so it seemed he was exactly the man (or teenager) Master Leonardo had praised to heaven and back for.

Leo rolled his eyes.

“Chill man, we just wanna talk.”

“Yeah, sure,” he rolled his eyes in turn. “An idiot with a kitchen knife in one of his scabbards and nothing in the other only wants to talk.”

“You can tell it’s a kitchen knife?” Leo asked, drawing the sword out.

Synth closed one eye and made a face.

“I’m not takin' commissions,” he asserted.

“Would you please reconsider?” Casey asked, folding his hands.

“Why would I?”

“Because I’m the greatest ninja the world has ever seen,” Leo smirked.

“Yeah,” Casey crossed his arms and stood next to him. “Leonardo’s the greatest swordsman alive.”

Synth’s ear twitched and looked Casey up and down.

“You his pet or somethin’?”

“Pet?!” They both repeated at the same time.

“The kid’s followin' you like a puppy.”

Leo made a face and glanced down at Casey who was standing a little close to him.

Casey inched away.

“He’s my sidekick,” Leo recovered.

“Right… well, I’m sorry, dudes, but I can’t help you with your little situation.”

“Yeah yeah, we heard it all upstairs,” Leo puppeted his free hand. “You got a contract blah blah blah. But I need swords or I can’t ninja!”

“You don’t even have anything to offer!”

“What if you taught him how to make swords?” Casey suggested.

“That’s even worse!” Synth roared. “Do you see my output? I don' have the time nor the energy to waste on teaching some idiot swinging a steak knife around!”

“Hey, this idiot has feelings,” Leo pointed out.

“Wait a minute,” Casey moved over to a stack of crates on one wall.

“Get out!” Synth growled.

Casey pulled out a sword.

“Get your hands off that! I’m calling security!”

Casey gave him a “try me” face.

“No you’re not,” he blew on the surface of the blade and a poof of dust kicked up into the air.

“You’re overstocked. You’re bored as shit.”

Synth’s ear twitched again. Leo wondered if the tic meant anything.

“You…” Synth glared but shut the door. He moved to the back of the workshop, gesturing for them to follow.

Now we were getting somewhere.

Behind his workbench and nearly out of view sat a grindstone. As he approached it whirred to life on its own, as if by magic. Well, it probably was magic. Synth grabbed the nearest blade to him, some wicked looking machete, and started grinding away at its edge.

“They’re always listenin',” he growled quietly, in a voice that was barely audible over the racket he was now making.

“Big Mama?” Casey asked, curious.

Synth nodded. “And others. I’ll be brief. Run of the Mill, 10pm.”

That was brief.

Synth watched Leo, and realized he was waiting for a response.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he shrugged.

Synth immediately stopped the grindstone and moved to the radio on his workbench.

“Security, I have two idiots lost in the basement. Please extract.”

“Two, devishly handsome idiots,” Leo corrected.

“Devilish,” Casey corrected Leo.

“What he said.”

-

They had almost made it out of the hotel without incident, when it just so happened the crime boss herself was just stepping in through her own front door, a leather lavender clutch in one hand, and her hair tied up in a messy silver bun atop her head. By the dozens of assistants behind her, it appeared she had just returned from some kind of shopping trip.

“Oh! Look who we have here!” Big Mama strutted right up to Leo.

“It’s been a minute, turtley-boo, how was saving the world?” she peered over at him expectantly over her glasses.

“It was… great…” Leo smiled uncomfortably. “I have a son now.”

Big Mama giggled and stole a glance at Casey.

“Ah yes, I saw you on the news. A new friend of the turtles.”

“Casey, this Big Mama. Mama, this is Casey,” Leo really looked like he wanted to take a step back.

“Why so teedly tense?” Mama asked, raising her eyebrows. “I think we’re good friends now, don’t you think? I helped you save the world, you saved the world, which in turn keeps business as usual. You’re always welcome here,” she winked.

Leo didn’t appear convinced.

“So, what brings you here, turtley-boos?”

Casey flinched.

“Oh, Casey’s not a turtle,” Leo corrected her. “He’s a human.”

Mama rolled her eyes.

“Of course, dear, I only meant to be inclusive,” she gave Casey a wicked grin.

“If I had more time, I would love to get to know you, little one. We’re all family here.”

Casey swallowed nervously.

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Mama, we were just escorting these two off the premises,” the fox yokai had appeared at her side.

“Ah, that would explain the security,” Big Mama nodded to the musclemen behind Leo and Casey.

“Sneaking around?”

“I- we…” Casey tried to find an explanation, but Big Mama just started giggling good-naturedly.

“Don’t worry your devishily handsome faces, boys,” she assured them. “Mama has a way of finding things out. Enjoy your evening!”

And then she moved past them as if none of that had even happened.

-

“That was beyond weird!” Leo pointed out once they were safely back underground.

“What do we do now?” Casey asked. “It’s clear she knows we’re meeting with Synth this evening.”

“Wait really? How’d you figure that?”

Casey smacked himself in the forehead.

“She mispronounced devilishly just like you did and then told us to have a good time this evening! We’re supposed to meet Synth in the evening!”

"It was evening when we left, Case, I think you're being a little paranoid."

“So should we still go?” Casey asked, crossing his arms as they entered the lair.

“Why not? Are you afraid of Big Mama or something?” Leo threw himself over the back of the couch, his carapace hitting the seat cushion and his legs flopping over onto one side.

“Shouldn’t I be? She’s like, a crime boss isn’t she?”

“Nah…” Leo smirked as he flipped the tv on. “Well yeah, she is. But we can take her.”

“You sound really full of yourself, you know that right?” Casey told the slider, crashing beside him. “Didn’t you say she once trapped the entire city of New York? And she manipulated the Shredder? And she imprisoned Master Splinter for a decade?”

Leo rolled his eyes.

“Ok, you might have a point. I’ll see if Raph and Donnie wanna go with us.”

Casey jumped a bit, but thankfully Leo didn't seem to notice.

“Wait, why not Mikey?”

“He’s going to Draxum’s tonight, and… the whole knife situation.”

“BROKE-ASS NINJA!” the two of them heard Mikey shout from his room.

“Is there something wrong with inviting the others?” Leo asked, lowering his brow.

“No, it’s fine,” Casey settled back into his seat and looked at the tv. “I was just curious.”

"You've been spending a lot of time with Mikey by the way, why is that?"

"You jealous?" Casey smirked.

"What? No! I'm just observing."

"And what have you observed?" Casey kicked his legs up over Leo's. 

Leo squinted. Casey gave him a shit eating grin.

"Isn't it rude to have shoes on the couch?"

"You're right, I should take them off."

Casey promptly kicked his shoes off onto the floor and put his feet right back where they had been.

Leo's face scrunched up in horror by the pungent smell.

"That was not what I meant!" he said as he scrambled to sit up right and get away from the offending appendages. Casey couldn't help but crack up laughing as the slider made a series of dramatic and unnecessary gagging noises.

"Jeez dude, do you ever shower?"

"It's not that bad," Casey defended, crossing his legs under him. "You just don't have humans around here enough."

"April's over here all the time!"

"April doesn't count! She doesn't live here!" Casey pointed out.

"Are you saying we need more people living here?"

"No?" Casey pouted, stumped. "Whatever."

Previous Masterpost Next

Notes: Teenage boys are gross.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #casey sas au #snapper and stinkpot #casey jones #rottmnt leo #leonardo #rottmnt mikey #michelangelo #rottmnt casey jr

[les8ean]

I posted 51,098 times in 2022

That's 11,963 more posts than 2021!

88 posts created (0%)

51,010 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@coredesignixandnekonee

@greatlordfluffernutter

@lyriumrain

@wizardpotions

@questbedhead

I tagged 554 of my posts in 2022

#unreality - 37 posts

#goncharov - 33 posts

#ref - 31 posts

#lab - 15 posts

#morgan speaks - 12 posts

#morgan draws - 10 posts

#mspfa - 10 posts

#don8 - 8 posts

#pokemon - 6 posts

#fav - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#didn't know what song this post meant until i looked it up and was immediately flung back to being 13 years old in the car singing alongas i

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

See the full post

113 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

#4

ATTENTION ALL GAYS WHO COLLECT PINS AND BADGES, BUT ARE TOO ANXIOUS ABOUT LOSING THEM TO ACTUALLY WEAR THEM

I HAVE FOUND. A SOLUTION

115 notes - Posted October 28, 2022

#3

hi please read my silly little homestuck fanventure I'm almost at 100 likes

191 notes - Posted June 17, 2022

#2

new reaction image for all my they/thems out there

257 notes - Posted August 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

art by @regal-bones - original post for above gif - Posted with permission

The Dimensional Pocket Knife

Need a screwdriver? a pen? Maybe a crowbar to open that locked chest? Say no more, the Dimensional Pocket Knife has all you need and more!  ...Well, most of the time.

The Dimensional Pocket Knife starts with 5 charges, and at the end of each day restores 1D4 +1 charges (to a max of 5). Upon use, a player can try to pull a tool of their choice from the pocket knife. They must roll a WIS saving throw, against the DPK's DC of 13. On a successful roll, the player draws the tool they desire. On a failure, the player instead rolls a D100, and draws the corresponding tool from the below list. (NOTE: the DPK works using the rules of Hammerspace, and so can draw tools much bigger than itself from it’s body, e.g, a spear, a crowbar, etc. The DPK itself is the size of a standard pocket knife)

Downloadable version of the below table

1 - Whatever tool the player desires, but a mimic 2 - Ladle 3 - Lockpick 4 - Telescope 5 - Knife 6 - Fork 7 - Spoon 8 - Scissors 9 - Crowbar 10 - Toothbrush 11 - Hairbrush 12 - Ink Pen (ink not included) 13 - Ink Pen (ink included) 14 - Wrench 15 - Hammer 16 - Flute 17 - Handsaw 18 - Pliers 19 - Chisel 20 - Ruler 21 - Trowel 22 - Shovel 23 - Allen Key 24 - Screwdriver - (Head type is randomly chosen by DM) 25 - Wire Cutters 26 - Paintbrush 27 - Toothpick 28 - Hatchet 29 - Nail File 30 - Lighter 31 - Hand Drill 32 - Salt Shaker 33 - Pepper Shaker 34 - Umbrella 35 - Whip 36 - Tuning Fork 37 - Baton 38 - Tree Branch 39 - Spatula 40 - Frying Pan 41 - Can Opener 42 - Bottle Opener 43 - Key - (roll a d10, on a nat10, the key opens the door it is inserted into. On a nat1, the key becomes jammed, and must be forcefully removed from the DPK. In this event, the key cannot be rolled again (i.e, cannot be drawn from the DPK). On any other roll, the key fails to open the door.) 44 - Handfan 45 - Longsword 46 - Dagger 47 - Bell 48 - Grappling Hook 49 - Magnifying Glass 50 - Pickaxe 51 - Fishing Rod (Bait not included) 52 - Whistle 53 - Broom 54 - Mop 55 - Tankard 56 - Bubble Wand 57 - White Flag 58 - Compass 59 - Mirror 60 - Teapot Spout - (The spout pours a random liquid of the DMs choice) 61 - Razor 62 - Whisk 63 - Bouquet of Flowers 64 - Bouquet of Dead Flowers 65 - Walking Cane 66 - 25ft of Rope 67 - Leash and Collar 68 - Binoculars 69 - Tentacle - (Tentacle moves of it's own accord, and does not respond to commands. It is neither hostile nor cooperative.) 70 - Feather Duster 71 - Wax Seal - (Seal is an emblem of the DMs choice (family crest, city flag, etc)) 72 - Extending Grabber - (Has a max reach of 1D10ft) 73 - Sickle 74 - Rapier 75 - Slingshot 76 - Tweezers 77 - Adze 78 - Drawing Compass 79 - Awl 80 - Metal File 81 - Mallet 82 - Hole Punch 83 - Sextant 84 - Calipers 85 - Whetstone - 86 - Tongs 87 - Gouge 88 - 2ft of Colourful Ribbon 89 - Icecream Scoop 90 - Meat Skewer 91 - Thermometer 92 - Small Sundial 93 - Fly Swatter 94 - Smoking Pipe 95 - Scalpel 96 - Spear 97 - Crab Claw - (Crab Claw moves of it's own accord, and does not respond to commands. It is neither hostile nor cooperative.) 98 - Vegetable Peeler 99 - Pinwheel 100 - Butchers Knife

296 notes - Posted November 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[lamuradex]

Short Story: House Number Seven

Title: House Number Seven

Wordcount: 707 (Quite a short one)

Someone new has moved onto the street.

House Number Seven

A month ago, someone moved into house number seven. Now, our street is a quiet little place, all fresh cut lawns and white picket fences, where everyone knows everyone. Up until six months ago, the house was occupied by Mr Johansen, but unfortunately the poor man had to go.

His replacement was a strange old man. Dark clothes, a scraggly beard, long hair. Through gossip, we learned his name. Nate Garrot. He was a quiet, strange old man, who kept to himself, and just worked on his garden. We’d see him at all hours of the day, anywhere from dawn till dusk, working away, turning the soil, digging things up with that shovel. He occasionally went away for weekends, but would never tell us where when we asked. Other than that he was always in that garden.

Mary, his neighbour at Number Five, apparently tried to talk to the strange man. She says he looked at her like the devil, and the moment she came within a foot of his begonias, the coot snipped at her.

Needless to say, she wasn’t pleased.

About two weeks ago, the sheriff turned up. Now, he isn’t actually the sheriff, just a local sergeant, but he only lives a street away so he’s always popping around to see us. Well, by then a few of us had spoken to this odd Mr Garrot, so we asked The Sheriff to go talk with him too. Sergeant Fester, for that is his name, came back smelling of whiskey. The Sheriff never did have the best constitution when it came to bribes.

And there he is, Mr Garrot, tilling his garden as always.

Things weren’t like this with Mr Johansen. Now, he was fun, once upon a time, turning up to bake sales and church fates. Maybe a bit too jolly at times, with his drinking. But then young Carly Johansen died. Doctor Wilkes, he’s married to Mary, told him it was an overdose. He wasn’t very joyous after that. More somber, and at one with god.

This Mr Garrot doesn’t seem a god fearing man. He curses, and blasphemes. And then, once in a while, we’ll see him come out and bury something in his garden. He never explains what when we ask.

A week and a half ago, The Sheriff was around again. It was bad news this time. A boy had gone missing. We all said we didn’t know where he was, but we suspected Mr Garrot. Him and that garden.

It was little Jason Tyler who’d disappeared. Lives at Number 12. Always snooping around people’s gardens, and knocking over post boxes. You could imagine him falling into Mr Garrot’s dug holes. His mother’s a tramp too, but at least she stays indoors. Her paramours meanwhile…

The Sheriff began an official investigation. He took Mr Garrot down to the station and asked him all sorts of questions. Meanwhile a few other officers searched his house, his shed, and that hideous greenhouse he has. Then they searched the front garden.

And right enough, there he was. Jason Tyler. Buried just a few feet down, with a trowel jutting out of his neck. Well, Mr Garrot was arrested and set to be locked away.

But a day later, he reappeared. Back on the street. He wasn’t sitting in his garden anymore though. That was still a crime scene.

Mary got talking to him, and he explained what happened. The police questioned him, but he claimed he was innocent. A likely story. But when The Sheriff asked him where he was when the boy died, he revealed he was away that weekend, visiting his son. The trowel wasn’t his either, and he could even produce his own when pressed.

With no further evidence, he was released, pending further investigation. We all still think there’s something wrong with him though. Not our sort, not for our street. And now Mr Garrot keeps looking at us, those devil’s eyes scrutinising. It’s sad really.

Mr Johansen was much the same when he found the nightshade in his daughter’s weed stash. And there she was, thinking we couldn’t smell it on her.

Well, I doubt Mr Garrot will be living here for much longer either.

#writeblr #short story #writing #happy halloween #spooky #I wrote this one over about an hour while cooking some food #I was so engrossed writing I forgot to put the food in for the first half an hour #horror #...i guess? #Lamura Dex Writes!

[alexandersenkristoffersen26]

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[langballechristie6]

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[liibrii]

Built for eternity  

deity!Atsumu x gn!reader || crack/fluff || wc: 1.6k || 🦊

Synopsis: Once Atsumu was a great deity, equally loved and feared but after taking a very long nap he wakes up to a world that has forgotten him. Everyone but your group that’s digging up his old shrine. He's sure you'll be his new followers so why on Earth are you destroying his house?!

warnings: barely proofread, general stupidity, cursing, suggestive moments, archaeological mumbo jumbo, Atsumu is a god of something but it's vague and not really important, also gods exist and everybody is chill with that, reader is a very tired archaeologist and done with everybody’s shit

a/n: after 3 days of rain and 6 straight hours of shovelling dirt I had an epiphany. idk, it made me laugh so I decided to scribble it down. and yes, don’t mess with a profile unless you want archaeologists to hate you forever as always feedback is greatly appreciated!

Once Atsumu was a great deity with shrines and temples at every corner. Nowadays the only ones remembering him are obscure books only used for collecting dust. But that is about to change. Atsumu is sure of that. 

Group of loyal followers has gathered where his shrine once stood, a small one, one he never really cared about but these days he'll take every crumb of adoration he can. And the crumbs are a plenty as the group digs up the shrine, excited about the pottery shards and walls coming to light. 

They call themselves archaeo-something, architects probably since they will rebuild his power. Yes, excellent, it pleases him to see you all rejoice, taking pictures of everything, you will be his new followers and more will follow, he'll be a great deity again, equally loved and feared-

“Aright, take the wall out!“

Huh?

Why are ya destroyin’ his shrine?! No, no, no, stop breakin’ apart the walls! That was the inner altar, what are ya pigs doin’?!

Thunder rumbles and a downpour falls for days, and still those little crawly humans continue to destroy his shrine, his precious walls, and take away the last remains of old offerings. Oh he's going to have a word with all of you freakin' stumblin’ humans, ya better know yer damn places. But he'll start with the one in charge.

The excavation site is empty when he decides to approach you. You're shovelling away dirt, though you should've started with your shoes and clothes. You turn when you hear someone approach and your eyes widen, as they should, thinks Atsumu, at least someone 'round here should show him the respect he deserves, he's a god after-

“Hey! You're standing on my feature! Get off, shoo, shoo! And watch out for the profile! I just cleaned the damn thing. Excavation site is closed to the public Mister so I'll have to ask you to leave.“

Exca- what? Leave? It’s his shrine! Humans shouldn’t react to his presence the way you did, that's just, it's not what humans do! 

“But I live here.“

“You-? Oh. You're still standing on my feature, get off already,“ you pull him off the patch of dark soil that to him looks the same as the patch where he's standing now.

“Why are ya destroyin' my shrine?“

You wipe away the sweat on your forehead, or maybe it's rain, with raindrops still falling he can't really tell. “We're not destroying anything, we're digging it up. Documenting it. It'll get destroyed once the apartment complex is build here. Come on, stay away from the profile!“

You return to scrapping the patch of dirt and Atsumu feels some very confusing mixture of rage that you, a lowly little human being, are talking to him like he's a nuisance, and being very pleased because when you lean down to scrap the soil he has an incredible view of your behind, and whew, that's a very nice ass. He shouldn't look, staring is rude, but what else is he supposed to look at, there's just soil, and holes dug into the ground, a weird green box atop a yellow tripod, a shovel, and some stones, one beside your left leg, such good looking legs indeed, there's a mud stain all over your ass-

No! You're tearing down the last remains of his shrine! “Human. I order ya to stop doin' what yer doin' and answer my questions!“

You glance over your shoulder. “Sure. I'll keep on working and you ask me what you want to know.“

Why are you so calm?! He's a deity, a god, you should be on your knees begging for your life to be spared, not scrapping the ground, oh holy bean sprouts and apples, why does your ass look so good? “Do ya know who I am?“

“The one of many names. The Twofaced god.“ You straighten up just to change gardening hoe for a shovel.

“Why aren't ya scared then?“

“I've met your kind before,“ you shovel the dirt onto a big pile a few steps away. “Though they usually don't go around destroying my surfaces. A clumsy god is a first. Oh, what's this? Pottery, nice,“ you mumble as you turn a small object covered with soil in your hand.

“Hey. Show me some respect or-“

“Or what? You’ll make it rain again? Joke's on you I've been soaked through and through for the last three days. Hand me the trowel?“

“Yer extremely impolite.“

To his utter surprise you burst into laughter. “Listen your holiness it's Friday afternoon, I’m tired, my clothes are completely wet, I'm cold, I have gravel in my shoes, my shoulders are killing me, and I'm more than ready to go home. But before that I have a feature to document. The one that you so kindly stepped in. Now, please show me your godly powers and hand me the trowel. The mini shovel. Red handle. No, left. Left. That's the one, thank you, what did I tell you, watch the profile man!“

Good grief, have humans always been so demanding?

“Will my shrine be rebuild?“

“If your shrine is an apartment complex, sure. Give it a few weeks and it will be good as new. Literally.“ When you see his face your expression softens a little. “No. It won’t be. We'll look at the remains to figure out when it was abandoned, what happened, that sort of thing.“

“But yer an architect. Architects build things.“ He heard people of your group call themselves that. They talked about how the walls had been built though he quickly stoped listening. “This shrine was built for eternity!“

“Archaeologist.“

“What?

“You meant I’m an archaeologist. Not architect. I don't plan buildings, I dig them up once their eternity passes.“

“It's eternity! It doesn't pass! Go dig somewhere else!“

You sigh. You look almost as exhausted as he did before taking his a few thousand years long nap. “Great, you're one of those people. Always complaining, why is it taking so long, why do you have to dig on my building site? Well mister it ain't my fault you decided to build atop of my neolithic settlement. Hey, grab the hoe.“

“The what?“

“The thing by your feet. No, that's a trowel. The one with the long handle. No, that’s a pickaxe, yes that's the one. See there? Your footprints. Clean them. Come on, don't just stand around and look pretty, get to hoeing.“

“Right here? Out in the open?“ He wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Yer an intriguin'-“

“Clean them away.“

Atsumu does as you say all while grinning. You're getting flustered. Humans and their brave facades, we'll see how long you manage to hold your own up.

“There.“ It only took four scraps to get rid of the footprints but Atsumu proclaims it so proudly he might as well just have dug up the entire excavation site on his own. “That was as easy-“ As he steps away ground under his foot crumbles and he hears your shocked shriek.

“My profile!“

Oh dear. The word he’d use to describe the look on your face when you see the collapsed pile of dirt beside the hole in the cross section would be heartbroken. Devastated. On verge of tears. Irritated. Angry. Enraged? 

“What did I tell you?! I gave you one job, one job you clumsy wanna be deity! Oh fuck, come on, I’m to tired for this.“

“’m sorry,“ Atsumu mumbles. His ears are on fire.

“Yeah you better be. Shit, fuck, what am I supposed to do?“ You look at him the same way someone in a hurry looks at a doorknob when their jacket gets caught on it. “You. Here.“

“What's-“

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what a shovel is. You destroyed my profile. I'm very tired. I'm very angry. I don't care if you're a god or a plastic straw, right now you will help me fix it. Shovel straight down. I want a right angle.“ 

With his strength evening out the cross section proves to be no problem at all. He glances over at you, do you see what a good job he’s doing, maybe he messed up before but now he’s doing great, as you pay him no attention and write something on a small blackboard. A bunch of numbers and words. He recognises there's a date. What could the others mean? You lean down to reach for, oh that mud stain on your trousers is actually a hand print. You must've wiped your hand on your ass- 

The shovel slips. Luckily you're too preoccupied with your camera to take notice of it.

“Are you done?“ you ask without looking up and he stutters out an 'almost' since he's almost sure it isn’t just the shovel that’s slipping. “Looks good.“ You say more to yourself than him. 

He thinks you're pretty cute when you're not chewing him out for stepping onto that one patch of dirt. The way you lift the camera up and take photos of that patch of dirt is pretty cute too. 

“Help me pack up,“ you say once you’re done. He doesn’t need to be told twice, already gathering your tools. “All things considered you weren’t so bad. Maybe you should consider becoming the god of archaeologists.“ Your smile is incredibly cute too. “Fancy a drink?“

#miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #hqcorenet #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu x y/n #atsumu fluff #inarizaki x reader #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfic #I wrote this very quickly #but it made me laugh so many times #djasf I love Tsumu #libri scribbles

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 17)

She finds herself lingering at the outskirts of Wujing, in front of the burned husks of the village. Partially, she wants to drink in her pain, to bask in her hatred and let it fester nice and fresh for when she begins hunting her prey. Mostly she is there to begin just that. She will find traces of them, track them down and eradicate them one by one. Nevermind the possibility that she will destroy her soul doing it.

It is entirely vacant and with good reason; who would want to live on a street stained with the blood of their loved ones? Even a little over a month after the attack the air still smells of it. Smells of blood and traces of the fire. She is doubly sickened by the potent reminder of her past. Is this not what she had wanted--Earth Kingdom villages charred beyond recognition.

A fine ash has settled in the cracks in the pavement amid chunks of buildings and a scatter of charred bones. She finds herself a seat amid the burned skeletons and stares at them. Stares until there is nothing but seething and hatred. She studies them. Studies them until she can differentiate the males from the females, the children from the adults, and the adults.  And there are children, so many small bones. Some skeletons cling to one another. At the very least this indicates that they were dead before they were burned.

When her hatred reaches a near boiling point, she picks herself up and moves forward. She walks past the old festival grounds, past the old bridge--noting that it had been very much burned as well, and to Ojihara’s farm.

Her belly gives a flop as she sets foot onto the useless soil. She stands at the fence post, she can practically see Seukhyun leaning up against it, flashing her one of his smooth, charming smiles.

She can practically hear him commenting, “I think you might have a chance to out harvest me this year.”

And she might have had the field and everything in it not been reduced to ash. Nothing grows within the ashes. The house has been reduced to forerally smoldering rubble. At least the left have anyways. But the right side is growing concave as well. She decides to keep her distance should it decide to topple. Anyways, she knows what is inside; Ojihara. All alone. His son and granddaughter at her house. And she knows that it is for the best, even knowing that he’d be soon to follow, Ojihara wouldn’t have been able to bare watching his son and granddaughter die. He would have been shamed knowing that he had let it happen.

She is shamed knowing that she let her husband and sons die. She is Azula. She should have been more powerful than that.

Her hatred reaches a new height.

And it only seems to swell as she grows nearer to her former home. She stands before the doorway and she feels nauseous. Absolutely nauseous. Really, she ought to turn back. Dimly she is aware that she is only hurting herself. She thinks that she might be addicted to the suffering. She has been ruminating on it since it had been inflicted upon her.

She pushes the door open and invites more of it in. When the smell hits her she caves into the nausea. She finds herself on her hands and knees, tears stinging in her eyes. A second wave hits when she realizes that her hands are pressing into dried blood. Her own. Where it had collected after the soldier had slashed her throat and belly.

She isn’t certain of how long she does, but she lays there shuddering and fight to control her breathing. She hears a clamor in her head; the rush of fire, the sounds of swords being drawn, of furniture being disarrayed, of screaming…

She shouldn’t do it, but she does. Eventually she crawls her way over to Hajime and Atsu. The rage she expects to feel amplifies but is swept away all the same by an overwhelming urge to just lay there with them until she withers away. She comes to find that there is only so much that she can take before her mind shuts itself down.

She finds herself back on the outskirts of town, she doesn’t remember how she got there. There is only a faint hum, a blurry tingle in her mind. A tiredness. A deep loathing. A deeper sorrow.

She carries herself back to Chin.

That day she learns that she cannot escape her past no matter how far she runs. No matter how long she runs. It is always there. It will always be there. She learns that her mind is so terribly fragile.

.oOo.

She is itching to say something, he knows that she is. He just isn’t sure what and he isn’t sure that he should ask. Instead he watches her wander about the palace garden. He decides to ask a different question instead, “what are you planting anyways?”

“Turnips.”

“Do you even like turnips?”

She thinks for a moment. “That depends.”

He furrows his brows. Either you like a food or you don’t, at least that has been his experience with it. “What do you mean?”

“They taste horrid but…” she purses her lips and rubs them together. “But the scent of them is familiar. I like how they smell.”

Sokka nods, he hadn’t thought of it like that. And then he remembers. He doesn’t say it, but he remembers. He recalls her journal and her mentioning the old man and his turnip farm. “Can I help?”

Azula hands him a trowel. Truth be told, he hadn’t realized that she even knew the difference between a trowel and a regular shovel. Yet she had used it rather efficiently, smoothing and patting the dirt over the seed she had just planted.

She only has the one so they take turns planting each seed until Azula is satisfied that they have planted enough. She stands up and half-smacks, half-rubs her hands together until most of the dirt has been cleared of them.

She seems pleased, perhaps even happy. He smiles too. It seems as though she has found at least one healthy outlet for her pain. She tosses a glance over her shoulder and catches him staring. He flushes.

At the very least, she pretends like she hadn’t noticed.

.oOo.

“I haven’t had a chance to do that in a while.” She notes. She holds her hand in front of her, inspecting her nails. They haven’t been so dirty in months. She can’t imagine that her serving girls are going to be all too pleased. Although, it might come as a comfort to them to know that she can respect the sort of work that a palace gardener does.

“Does it make you feel better?” He asks.

Azula nods, “quite.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Yes.” She nods. “I will have to get my nails cleaned.”

He laughs, “right away?”

She tilts her head, “preferably, yes.” She now has the opportunity to be perfectly clean after gardening, she doesn’t see the harm in not wasting it. “I like to be clean.” She thinks that Ojihara might have rolled his eyes at that, but she had always had a habit of getting him to do that anyhow.

She tries to fend off the wave of sadness that comes over her. It is the same one that his been threatening to pull her under all day. She glances at Sokka. “Go ahead. Ask.” She mutters. “I know that you want to…”

He inhales sharply and melodramatically, “what’s bothering you?”

“I was thinking about Ojihara…”

“The turnip grandpa?”

Azula roll her eyes, “the turnip grandpa.”

“Okay.”

“And I have been thinking about how I never got a chance to tell Hajime my real name.”

.oOo.

Sokka cringes to himself. Somehow he has been under the impression that she had told him. Though he isn’t quite connecting the dots. “What does that have to do with turnip grandpa?”

She goes quite again for quite a while. “Ojihara used to think that it was...humorous that I didn’t like to get my hands dirty. He didn’t know that I’m…” she gestures to the palace. She looks back at her nails, at the dirt beneath them. “I can just go and clean them at my leisure. Before going to Wujing there was never dirt under my nails. He didn’t know that. Hajime didn’t know that.” She pauses. “Or they might have, but they didn’t know why.”

“And so being able to utilize the spa reminds you of how you never got the chance to tell them where you come from?”

She nods. “I was already thinking about that this morning. And now I am thinking about it more.”

Sokka nods. “That bothers you?”

“Alot.” She replies. “I don’t think that Hajime would have...loved me if he knew. He said that he would have, but that’s because he didn’t know what he was promising to cherish.”

“Who.”

“Huh?”

“Who he was promising to cherish.”

Azula half smiles. “Regardless of word choice, my point still stands.”

“I think that he would have.” Sokka declares with a smile of his own. “If he loved you for what you are now then I think that he would have been able to handle hearing about the past. I would have still loved you.”

.oOo.

“You would have?”

“Sure!”

She isn’t quite sure why it makes her feel better to know that. Perhaps because he reminds her of Hajime in many ways. Still, she has to ask, “why?”

Sokka furrows his brows. “What do you mean, why? You’re bold and fun and I’ve never met anyone like you. I bet that Hajime would have felt the same way. And I know your history, part of it anyways, I was there for part of it. I still lo-like you.” He smiles again.

She clears her throat, “that’s the other thing.” His face is flushing, his slip up is not lost on her but she isn’t ready to address it yet. “I...there’s a part of me that was hoping that he would have fought with me over it.”

He crinkles his brows. “Why would you want that?”

“Because it was so perfect, Sokka. We never fought, not once. I know that if we’d been together long enough that we would have eventually. I wanted to know what that was like. To fight with someone…” She wanted, perhaps still wants, to know what it is like to make up after a fight, to feel that special sort of relief that comes with the end of an argument. “To fight with someone and know that they’d still stick around. Hajime would have.”

“That actually...it makes a lot of sense.”

She swallows. “It does?”

He nods. “It’s reassuring to know that you can get someone so mad and they’ll still care about you so much. Like how me and Katara are sometimes. She’s pretty much the worst but she’s also the best?”

“I thought that I was the worst?”

“But you’re also the best.” He nudges her. His face grows serious again. “And that’s why I think that you will have that fight one day.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Sorry, I’m not exactly good at the words thing and comforting people. Katara says I’m ‘insensitive’.”

She shrugs. She can’t imagine that he is any more insensitive than she. Really it was a comfort enough just to hear that isn’t strange to have wanted a fight.  “You don’t have to say anything. Sometimes I just want someone to listen.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Fanfiction

[nikkywrites]

Day 11: Sunrise

Summary: Noah makes things awkward and they do not get lost in the woods. (Part One | Part Two)

Warnings: cursing and self beatdowns.

*****

He fucks up.

Noah drives across town, gets stuck in the morning everyone-is-heading-to-work traffic and parks by the woods near his old house. Alex looks at him like he’s insane.

Maybe he is.

“Here?” he asks, brows nearly merged with his hairline.

Noah nods. “Yeah, here.” He reaches for the handle to open the door but stops. He lets his head bang against the headrest. “Shit, here after we make a pitstop.”

He goes back into town. Traffic isn’t as bad, but this is awkward now.

He is an idiot.

He made it all the way across town without thinking of getting a shovel. To, you know, dig up the time capsule. Great. This was turning out to be a fan-freaking-tastic sendoff. Warm beer and driving in and out of town like– like he doesn’t even know what. Like an idiot.

“Sorry, dude,” he apologizes, gripping the wheel too tight. “Forgot we were gonna need something.”

“It’s cool.” Alex shrugs and Noah winces. It feels like he doesn’t care. How could he not care? He was leaving.

“Yeah.”

He pulls into Wal-Mart’s parking lot. He curses himself out in his head for being the fucking idiot that he is. He was ruining everything.

“This should only take a minute,” he says, stepping out of the car and wishing he could wake up and do this all over. “You can stay in the car if you want.”

“Yep.”

So Noah buys the shovels — trowels, actually, but it’s still a shovel. Just small. Handheld. Not worth the price of nostalgic bitterness it was going to lead them to. But nothing is.

He was desperate, was hollow, was kind of just hoping the timer would ring so he could start licking his wounds, nursing the cracks in his heart. He didn’t want to deal with goodbye. He didn’t want to do these last hours because the end is hanging over his neck like a sword, distracting, overbearing.

“Got it,” he says, dull, as he slides into the car. He tosses it into the other boy’s lap and pointedly doesn’t look at him. Alex takes a peek and pulls something out.

“M&Ms? And… shovels?”

Noah tenses his hands. Relaxes them. “Your favorite,” he shrugs. They’re the peanut butter kind.

“Thanks.” He opens the package and pops one in his mouth.

They drive in silence. Noah pulls up again and parks. He swallows. “We’re here.”

Alex glances at his hands, still clutching to the wheel. “O…Kay. Lets go then.”

Slowly, Noah does just that. He unclicks his seatbelt and robotically opens the car door to step out. “It’s that way,” he says, gesturing slightly to their right and ahead.

“You lead,” Alex says, plastic bag hanging from his fingers. He reaches in to eat another M&M. The crinkling plastic is grating. Noah says nothing.

He starts walking and keeps an eye out. His memory of the exact place is, well… a little fuzzy. It’s not his fault, though, it’s been a while. A decade. God, have they really known each other that long?

Was this really going to be the end of it?

They walk in silence and Noah curses the sun lifting above the horizon line. He can’t see it, but the sky is light enough that they don’t need flashlights to see. It’s enough to mark the official beginning of the day. Of the end.

“What’re we doing anyways?” Alex asks, after a few minutes of silence.

Noah hunches his shoulders. “You remember that time capsule we buried when we were kids?”

Alex stops, audible in the lack of crunching leaves. Noah glances back at him. “Yeah? Shit, I forgot about that.”

“Well I figured we’d dig it up.”

He starts walking again. “Cool. I have no idea what I even put in it.”

“Me either.”

Honestly, the only thing he remembers is that it’s in his lunchbox. And that it’s under a tree. Which, when you’re in the woods, is a great descriptor. It’s fine, though, because he’s always had a good sense of place.

It only takes him half an hour to find it. Part of him is disappointed, had hoped the forest would eat them and they’d never find their way out again. But this wasn’t a fae’s forest, or a fairytale. It was normal. Goodbye.

He’d get that through his head, eventually. At some point today. Probably.

#writeblr #writing #creative writing #writblr #prompt fill #nikkywritesstories #nikkywritesprompts #my writing #repost from my old blog #creatober #creatober 2020 #alex and noah #alex #noah

[occasionaltouhou]

i had to look up gardening tips on the internet for this. i don’t think i actually ended up using any of them either

Youmu had only been to Eientei a few times, so she was surprised when a youkai rabbit came into the depths of the Netherworld to invite her to visit. But whether due to curiosity or politeness, she wasn’t the type to refuse, so she followed the rabbit back into the world of the living, through the Bamboo Forest, until she came upon the house hidden away in its depths.

Two of its residents were waiting for her -- Yagokoro Eirin, a tall woman with a deceptively youthful face, dressed in her usual red and black; and Reisen Udongein Inaba, a much shorter woman with long violet hair, currently dressed in a long, dull brown dress with specks of dirt across its surface.

Eirin smiled at her as she approached, then nodded at Reisen. “Udonge here was wondering if you could assist her with a project of hers.”

“A project…?” repeated Youmu.

“We’ve been trying to grow trees from the Lunar Capital,” explained Reisen. “But… not very successfully. Lady Eirin, are you sure--”

“The Netherworld and the Capital are both Pure Lands, even if the Capital is merely an artificial one,” interrupted Eirin calmly. “In lieu of taking the seeds to the Netherworld and attempting to grow them there, the more reasonable course of action is to bring its gardener here and see if she has any advice. Now, I’ll leave you to it, Udonge. It’s your project, after all.” She nodded at Youmu once again, and then walked back inside, leaving the two of them staring at each other awkwardly.

The most words that Youmu had ever exchanged with Reisen was probably during their first meeting, in which she and her Lady Yuyuko had come to restore the full moon that Eientei had stolen. It was a simple matter of necessity -- outside of parties, which the residents of Eientei rarely attended anyway, they only really entered the village to sell medicine; and the residents of the Netherworld naturally had no need for medicine.

After a moment, Reisen said, “Well, if you’ll follow me,” and began to walk around Eientei, Youmu following. She led her around to a small clearing behind the mansion, where a pair of plots had been dug into the ground. Small signs in a language Youmu couldn’t read stuck out of the dirt, but nothing else was growing.

Reisen sighed. “We got a bunch of seeds from the Capital a few years back, but they haven’t been growing…” she said. “We even tried using soil from the-- Hey!”

Youmu had walked over to one of the plots and, before Reisen realised what she was doing, stuck her arm straight into the dirt next to one of the signs, and pulled out a perfectly intact seed. It was almost completely round, and a dull silvery colour that sparkled in what little sunlight penetrated this far into the Forest.

“Seeds from the Moon…” murmured Youmu, and then placed it gently back on top of the dirt. “How many are there…?”

Reisen blinked at her in disbelief. “Uh… ten. Five on each side.”

Youmu sat down on the rough ground looking at the two bare rectangles of dirt. “We need better soil…” she said quietly. “There’s not enough life in the soil.”

“Enough life…?” repeated Reisen.

Youmu nodded. “I don’t think these are going to grow without a lot of life energy, and there isn’t much of that around Eientei… But if we could get some soil from the Garden of the Sun, and bring along some fairies, that should help a lot…” She blinked, and stared up at Reisen. “We need to take the seeds out before we can dig up the soil.”

Reisen blinked back at her, and then nodded. “Do you want me to go get a shovel, or…?”

“I don’t know where the other seeds are,” said Youmu. “So, um, I was hoping you could do that, and I’ll ask… if you told me you wanted me to help with this, I’d have brought my own tools…”

“We did tell the rabbit we sent to get you,” remarked Reisen, “but it seems like she forgot.”

“Ah…”

---

It took a few minutes for Youmu to gather all of Eientei’s gardening tools together and carry them, but by the time she was done Reisen was carefully extracting the last of the Moon seeds. They sat in a small heap on top of the dirt where Youmu had placed the first of them; and from a distance the pale silver seeds seemed more like tiny moons than anything else.

Youmu gently moved them off the dirt and onto the ground next to them, then handed Reisen one of the larger shovels she had been able to find, and they began digging, each to their own plot.

“So when did you get these…?” asked Youmu, as they dug.

“Oh, uh, Lady Sagume gave them to me,” replied Reisen. “During the aftermath of the Urban Legend incident, I went back up to the Capital for… reasons… and I was given these as a reward. A reminder of home, I suppose.”

Youmu frowned. “Why didn’t you stay there, then?”

“It’s not really my home anymore,” said Reisen quietly. “Eientei is. Gensokyo is. The Lunar Capital… isn’t where I belong anymore.”

Youmu was quiet.

“Have you lived in the Netherworld your entire life?” asked Reisen after a while.

“Huh? Uh, yes!” The question took Youmu by surprise, and she swung her shovel out too early, throwing the dirt behind her into the excavated section of her plot. As she resumed her rhythm, tidying up the pile she’d created, she continued, “I’ve been there my entire life… I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, though. I don’t know how you did it.”

Reisen frowned, more to herself than to Youmu. “I only came down to Earth because I was a coward. I heard the Wakatsukis talking about an invasion, and thought I was going to have to fight. It’s what we were trained for, but when it came down to it…”

Youmu was silent again for a long while, but just as Reisen was about to start another conversation, the half-phantom spoke.

“If you like it more here then it must have been worth it, though.”

Reisen laughed quietly. “It was, I suppose. It’s just a bit embarrassing. At least the Moon rabbits that came after me have an excuse. All I can really say is that I got here first.”

Youmu didn’t reply to that either, but Reisen was beginning to understand that when she went quiet, it wasn’t because she didn’t have anything to say -- rather, she was quietly thinking to herself about the best way to say things. If she was half-baked, it was only because people didn’t give her enough time.

They continued to dig, until they’d dug rectangular holes roughly a foot deep.

“Aren’t these too deep…?” asked Reisen, climbing out. “I thought you should only plant seeds a little bit so that they can catch the Sun…”

Youmu shook her head. “We don’t have any trays, so we’re planting them directly. But we’ll be using soil from the Garden of the Sun, and that should infuse it with enough life energy to get them sprouting. We just need to make sure that the roots can get a lot of that soil before they get into Eientei’s.”

“Is it really that bad?”

Youmu nodded without looking up at her. Then, she pulled herself out of her own hole, dusted herself off, and looked up at the sky. The Sun was hanging high above them, its rays barely piercing the thick bamboo that clustered around Eientei.

“We should get going…” she said. “It’ll take some time to get to the Garden and get what we need…” She suddenly looked around. “Do you have a wheelbarrow?”

“We’re doing that today?” asked Reisen. It’s not that she was tired, but she’d been expecting Youmu to get the soil the next day, or something like that.

Youmu frowned at her. “I can’t leave Lady Yuyuko for too long,” she said. “And I have my own responsibilities, too.”

Reisen nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, then.”

---

In the end, she managed to find a large empty bathtub, and, with the help of a few of the other youkai rabbits, placed it on top of one of Kaguya’s Moon Exploration Vehicles and dragged it with Youmu to the Garden.

When they returned to Eientei, with a bathtub full of top-quality soil, and trailed by a handful of curious fairies, the Sun was already beginning to vanish behind the mountains that surrounded Gensokyo.

And they began to shovel again.

“What makes this dirt so much better than the dirt here, anyway?” asked Reisen.

“It’s full of blood,” stated Youmu matter-of-factly. “According to Lady Yuyuko, it’s been a popular place for youkai to battle for a very long time, so there’s been a lot of blood spilt over it. Makes the youkai plants grow faster, and those types of plants make other plants grow, too. I always go there when I need to replant a tree.”

Reisen frowned at the soil that she was shovelling. It looked like regular dirt to her. “This isn’t going to turn our seeds into youkai trees, is it?”

“Not if you don’t feed them any more blood,” replied Youmu.

---

When they had filled the holes about two-thirds of the way, Youmu and Reisen carefully placed the seeds in. And as they resumed piling on the dirt, Youmu asked, “So why are you planting these?”

Reisen blinked at her. “Because-- because Lady Sagume gave them to me.”

“Is that all?”

And it could have been left there. If Reisen had confirmed herself, Youmu would have believed it.

“--No.”

Youmu continued to dig.

“When I was back at the Capital, I realised -- a few things. It’s not where I belong anymore, but I couldn’t stay there if I wanted to. They reject beings of impurity, and by exposing myself to Earth, I’ve become impure. Which is… fine. But then, why did Lady Sagume give me these seeds? Seeds that could only grow on the Moon?”

She frowned to herself.

“It was either a gift or a challenge,” she continued. “But… Lady Sagume accepted that I’d become an Earth rabbit. I don’t want to let her down.”

Youmu paused in her digging. “You don’t want to let her down?”

“I think so. They’re my reward.”

Youmu nodded. “That makes sense,” she said, and continued digging.

---

By the time they were done, and Youmu was drawing careful grooves in the surface of the soil with a small trowel, the moonlight was already shining through the bamboo.

The two of them looked down at the two patches with satisfaction.

“Hey, Youmu,” started Reisen, “thank you.”

“We don’t know if it’ll grow yet…” replied Youmu quietly. “I’ve never grown something from the Moon… um, just make sure they get watered regularly. Or, um, does it rain on the Moon…?”

“I’ll water them as much as they’d get watered on the Moon,” replied Reisen. “I used to do a bit of the Wakatsukis’ gardening, just… never the planting. Things on the Moon didn’t really grow or die, after all. They just… continued.”

“But these are going to grow,” said Youmu thoughtfully. “They’re going to be something different to what would grow on the Moon.”

Reisen glanced up at the moonlight, and then turned away from it, back towards the front of Eientei. “I think that’s fine. Hopefully, they’ll end up alright. I did, after all.” She paused. “--Anyway, you’d better be heading back. And I should go wash up…”

They gathered the tools together into the now-empty bathtub, and, dragging it back into Eientei, left the small patch, and its ten seeds, to steadily grow under the impure moonlight that only Earth could see.

#touhou #youmu konpaku #reisen udongein inaba #occasional prompts #occasional fics #i think this is the first time i've put reisen in something. wild #touhou has too many characters... not enough time... not enough ideas...

[nikkyshows]

Day Eleven: Sunrise

Summary: Noah makes things awkward and they do not get lost in the woods (part three to this and this).

Warnings for cursing and self beatdowns.

*****

He fucks up.

Noah drives across town, gets stuck in the morning everyone-is-heading-to-work traffic and parks by the woods near his old house. Alex looks at him like he’s insane. 

Maybe he is.

“Here?” He asks, brows nearly merged with his hairline.

Noah nods. “Yeah, here.” He reaches for the handle to open the door but stops. He lets his head bang against the headrest. “Shit, here after we make a pitstop.”

He goes back into town. Traffic isn’t as bad, but this is awkward now.

He is an idiot.

He made it all the way across town without thinking of getting a shovel. To, you know, dig up the time capsule. Great. This was turning out to be a fan-freaking-tastic sendoff. Warm beer and driving in and out of town like-- like he doesn’t even know what. Like an idiot.

“Sorry, dude,” he apologizes, gripping the wheel too tight. “Forgot we were gonna need something.”

“It’s cool.” Alex shrugs and Noah winces. It feels like he doesn’t care. How could he not care? He was leaving.

“Yeah.”

He pulls into Wal-Mart’s parking lot. He curses himself out in his head for being the fucking idiot that he is. He was ruining everything.

“This should only take a minute,” he says, stepping out of the car and wishing he could wake up and do this all over. “You can stay in the car if you want.”

“Yep.”

So Noah buys the shovels — trowels, actually, but it’s still a shovel. Just small. Handheld. Not worth the price of nostalgic bitterness it was going to lead them to. But nothing is.

He was desperate, was hollow, was kind of just hoping the timer would ring so he could start licking his wounds, nursing the cracks in his heart. He didn’t want to deal with goodbye. He didn’t want to do these last hours because the end is hanging over his neck like a sword, distracting, overbearing.

“Got it,” he says, dull, as he slides into the car. He tosses it into the other boy’s lap and pointedly doesn’t look at him. Alex takes a peek and pulls something out.

“M&Ms? And… shovels?”

Noah tenses his hands. Relaxes them. “Your favorite,” he shrugs. They’re the peanut butter kind.

“Thanks.” He opens the package and pops one in his mouth.

They drive in silence. Noah pulls up again and parks. He swallows. “We’re here.”

Alex glances at his hands, still clutching to the wheel. “O...Kay. Lets go then.”

Slowly, Noah does just that. He unclicks his seatbelt and robotically opens the car door to step out. “It’s that way,” he says, gesturing slightly to their right and ahead.

“You lead,” Alex says, plastic bag hanging from his fingers. He reaches in to eat another M&M. The crinkling plastic is grating. Noah says nothing.

He starts walking and keeps an eye out. His memory of the exact place is, well… a little fuzzy. It’s not his fault, though, it’s been a while. A decade. God, have they really known each other that long?

Was this really going to be the end of it?

They walk in silence and Noah curses the sun lifting above the horizon line. He can’t see it, but the sky is light enough that they don’t need flashlights to see. It’s enough to mark the official beginning of the day. Of the end.

“What’re we doing anyways?” Alex asks, after a few minutes of silence.

Noah hunches his shoulders. “You remember that time capsule we buried when we were kids?”

Alex stops, audible in the lack of crunching leaves. Noah glances back at him. “Yeah? Shit, I forgot about that.”

“Well I figured we’d dig it up.”

He starts walking again. “Cool. I have no idea what I even put in it.”

“Me either.”

Honestly, the only thing he remembers is that it’s in his lunchbox. And that it’s under a tree. Which, when you’re in the woods, is a great descriptor. It’s fine, though, because he’s always had a good sense of place.

It only takes him half an hour to find it. Part of him is disappointed, had hoped the forest would eat them and they’d never find their way out again. But this wasn’t a fae’s forest, or a fairytale. It was normal. Goodbye.

He’d get that through his head, eventually. At some point today. Probably.

#gtpatcreatober #writeblr #writing #creative writing #writblr #nikkywrites #my writing #creatober #alex #noah #alex and noah #noah is not having a Good Time #and Alex is kind of just humoring him and kinda tipsy #but on things go #the day continues

[ladylynse]

Forewarning: [FF | AO3] All Dipper knew was that there was something buried in some special thermos behind the shack; all Danny knew was that he had no idea how he'd gotten here.

Inspired by this beautiful piece of fanart by @hashtag-art​, who very kindly gave me permission to write this fic. This story is also for @bibliophileap. Happy birthday!

“The book mentioned there might be something stuck in some special thermos that’s buried just behind the shack,” Dipper explained as he sank the spade into the ground again.

Mabel eyed him, unimpressed, and made no move to pick up the trowel that rested a few feet from where Dipper stood. “What else did the book say?” It lay open at his feet, but she couldn’t make out anything from where she sat.

Dipper tossed the dirt aside and looked guilty. “I’m not sure.”

“You didn’t read it?”

“No, I read it. I just couldn’t make it out.”

“So the page had water damage or something?”

Dipper shook his head. “It wasn’t in English.”

“So—?”

“It’s in some kind of code or made up language.” Dipper stepped on the spade, widening his hole. “I can’t crack it. Or translate it. And I don’t exactly want to ask for help.”

He didn’t know who they could trust. He’d always been more suspicious than her, but their adventures this summer just seemed to cement his conviction that his suspicions were valid. Personally, she still thought he was a bit crazy, but he was her brother; that was expected.

“Not a cipher you know, huh?” mused Mabel as Dipper continued his work. “Even after you went through that code book two years ago? Impressive, bro-bro. This author of the journals must be good.”

“It’s the only page coded this way, though. That’s what I don’t get. There’s text hidden on other pages, but nothing else is the same as this.”

“Then maybe—” Mabel broke off as she heard Dipper’s spade hit something. He dropped to his knees to paw at the loosened dirt, and she crawled forward to see what he’d found. Buried treasure, maybe?

Except it wasn’t treasure; she could see that now. It was metal, dulled from its time in the earth, but it didn’t look like anything valuable. Even as Dipper worked to scrape the dirt away, it…. It really did look like an old thermos someone had forgotten about.

“What’s supposed to be inside again?” Mabel asked slowly.

“That’s the part I can’t translate.”

Bright, lurid green peeked out from beneath the dirt now, along with…buttons? Not just any old thermos, then, though she had no idea how it was supposed to be special. Mabel met Dipper’s eyes, and he bit his lip as he reached for the lid.

He couldn’t get it loose until she held the thermos in place while he turned with both hands, and then it came off with a pop. They both pulled back as smoke—vapour—something—began to swirl out of the thermos.

Genie? Mabel mouthed, hoping to catch Dipper’s eye, but he was too focused on the churning mist. It was beginning to form a humanoid shape now. She watched in silence, wondering if they were about to get three wishes—or some less pleasant surprise.

The vapour thickened, darkening in some places and lightening in others until the figure—the boy? Genie? Ghost?—almost looked solid.

And then he fell to his hands and knees with a very solid thud and let out a groan. Mabel would have shrieked if Dipper’s hand wasn’t suddenly covering her mouth; she hadn’t even realized he’d moved beside her, though she wasn’t surprised to see he’d grabbed the journal, too. She nodded slightly, and his hand dropped.

The boy had his back to them; he might not even have seen them. All she could see now was a shock of white hair and his weird black and white suit—not entirely unlike what Blendin had worn, though it looked to be made out of a different material.

“Aw, crud, how long was I in there this time?” The boy—whatever else he was, he was definitely a boy—climbed unsteadily to his feet. And then he stopped, looked around, and turned.

Saw the Mystery Shack.

Saw them gawking at him.

“Uh….” Bright green eyes blinked. “You’re, um, not who I thought you’d be.” He looked down and saw the empty thermos that had been his prison. He bent to scoop up the lid Dipper had dropped, and even though the thermos itself was still partially buried in the ground, he had no trouble pulling it out. He had barely touched it before it was free and clean of dirt to boot.

He must have noticed that they hadn’t moved, because he shot them a smile as he screwed the lid back onto the thermos. “You’ve, ah, probably guessed this, but I’m Phantom.”

“Ghost,” Dipper muttered.

Phantom frowned. “It’s Danny Phantom, actually,” he said slowly, “which is clearly not ringing bells with either of you. Um, where exactly am I? I don’t remember any Mystery Shack thing around Amity Park.”

Mabel glanced at Dipper, but he didn’t seem to know the name, either. He also wasn’t making any weird facial expressions to convey that she shouldn’t answer, so she said, “We’re in Gravity Falls.”

He scratched his head. “Is that in Wisconsin?”

“Oregon,” Dipper answered, narrowing his eyes.

“How did I wind up in Oregon?” Phantom—Danny?—asked, though he didn’t seem to expect an answer out of them. “Does Vlad have another cabin out here or something? Do you guys know Vlad Masters? Or have you heard of him?”

They shook their heads.

“But….” He looked at the thermos again. At the hole in the ground. The shovel, the trowel, even the journal under Dipper’s arm. “If you guys don’t know about Vlad, why…? How did I get there? How did you find me? Were you even looking for me?” He took a step back, then another, and then he just…vanished.

“Maybe he’s a friendly ghost?” Mabel offered when he didn’t reappear.

“He’s in the journal. In code. He can’t be that friendly.”

XXXXXXX

Danny couldn’t remember what had happened, and that’s what scared him the most. He’d been caught in a Fenton Thermos before, loads of times, but he usually remembered it happen. Plenty of those times he’d been caught by Jazz, accidentally or on purpose, or by one of his friends, or he’d been caught unawares in a fight, and then he at least remembered there being a fight, but this time….

This time, everything was muddled.

Nothing about this place seemed familiar from the air. He wasn’t far from a town (not Amity Park, not Elmerton, not anywhere he remembered travelling to with his parents), so he checked it out in case the kids had been lying to him. They didn’t trust him, maybe because they weren’t used to ghosts or maybe because they’d only heard horror stories. He couldn’t really blame them for that. Most people didn’t grow up with ghost-obsessed parents.

Unfortunately, the girl had been telling the truth. This place was Gravity Falls, which no doubt meant it was in Oregon, which meant he had absolutely no idea how he’d gotten here.

Danny settled on a large bough of a maple tree just outside of town and pulled the Fenton Thermos from his pocket. It was in good condition—better condition than the one he usually carried, assuming he remembered to bring it with him. But this thermos was also almost dead, the display barely visible in the daylight, and his presence inside of it was probably the only reason it had lasted this long. If he didn’t recharge it, it wouldn’t be good for anything but soup.

“Why am I here?” Danny whispered. The thermos had been buried. Vlad had no reason to do that to him. If he’d just wanted him out of the way, sure, but not when he still wanted Danny as a son—or, at the absolute very least, a mentee.

He had to be missing something. There must be some clue, somewhere, and if he could just find it—

But there was no way those kids were going to trust him, even if he went back to them for help. He’d seen how they’d looked at him. It wasn’t just them being scared; they’d been wary, too. Maybe they’d run into ghosts before after all. He knew as well as anyone how many unsavoury ghosts were out there. Not everyone was nice once you got to know them.

He might get further with them if he pretended to be normal. He could tell the truth once he knew they wouldn’t try to exorcise him or something. But in case they had run into other ghosts….

Danny concentrated, letting some of his power seep into the thermos to recharge it. He’d rather risk ending up inside the thing again than not having it when he needed it. If he kept it with his suit, he could get it when he needed it and wouldn’t arouse suspicion by carrying it around as Fenton.

Light flared around the thermos and died away, and he flew back down to the ground. The Mystery Shack wasn’t far from town, and given the number of signs nailed to trees around here, it wouldn’t be hard to find on foot. And if it took a bit of time for him to get there, well, that was probably a good thing. Showing up immediately after Phantom had wasn’t going to win him any favours.

Too bad he’d already told them his name was Danny.

XXXXX

Dipper tapped the page of the journal. “He said he was a phantom.”

Springs creaked as Mabel crawled onto his bed behind him to read the description over his shoulder. “He was in black and white,” she pointed out, “and seemed more preoccupied with this Vlad Masters guy than causing pain.”

“That’s because we didn’t summon him. We just released him. Which means we need to catch him again before he tricks anyone into actually summoning him.”

It would take more than a mirror to stop him; Dipper was certain of that much. Of course, the journal was a little vague when it came to the best way to stopping phantoms, but if that thermos thing had contained it for this long, it would work again. Of course, that required him to get the thermos back, and the phantom had taken it. And he wouldn’t have the opportunity to get it back until he found the phantom again.

The easiest way to do that would be to summon it, but Dipper wasn’t going to play into Phantom’s hands. He knew how dangerous ghosts could be, and he wasn’t going to underestimate this one. Especially when it had gotten its own page in the journal.

Well.

Page was a bit of an exaggeration. It was more a small section of a page, mixed in with a collection of other eclectic notes, which was why he’d gone digging in the first place. The author of the journal hadn’t steered him wrong before, and he was surprised the ‘special thermos’ had contained something so dangerous. And why would there be words of code on the page that didn’t match the code used in the rest of the journal? It didn’t make sense.

He’d been hoping for something helpful, some clue about the author, not…this.

“How are we supposed to catch him without summoning him ourselves?”

“He might come back since he knows we’re here. He might think we’re easy prey, being kids.”

Mabel hummed in consideration. “Well, if he doesn’t, I guess it’s not the first time we’ve had to summon a ghost.”

“I’m not summoning him. That’s the one thing the book says not to do, Mabel. I’ll just figure out how to exorcise him without summoning him.”

Mabel huffed. “Why did you let him out again?”

Dipper knew better than to answer that, so he ignored her, and she eventually got bored and headed downstairs to visit with Soos and Wendy in the shop.

He went back to searching the journal for answers it didn’t want to give, trying more variations of common and not-so-common ciphers on the coded message that must relate to the phantom. He didn’t think it would be a way to defeat Phantom—the author of the journals would have had no reason to put that in code—but it had to be important. It had to be. If he could just—

“Dipper! Get your butt down here!”

Dipper groaned as Mabel’s yell interrupted his train of thought and he lost track of it completely. Worse still, a glance at the clock confirmed that she hadn’t been gone that long. He closed the book and shoved it into his backpack to hide it; he planned on stuffing more ghost-hunting provisions into the bag anyway.

He slung the backpack over one shoulder and headed down the stairs. Mabel was waiting for him by the door between the shop and the private quarters of the house. Soos was out of the room, maybe showing someone around, maybe helping Grunkle Stan with something, and Wendy was talking to some kid at the counter.

Mabel jerked her head towards the boy and raised her eyebrows.

He gave her an appropriately confused look in return.

She stuck out her tongue in annoyance—real or mock, Dipper wasn’t even sure—and turned around. “Hey, Danny, this is my brother, Dipper.”

The boy turned, and Dipper blinked.

The resemblance between the boy and Phantom was uncanny.

And considering they both went by Danny….

“Hey,” Danny said, smiling and raising one hand in an acknowledging wave. “I ditched my parents in town. Wanted to get away from them before they did something embarrassing, which usually happens within five minutes of arriving anywhere.” He glanced around. “Does this place live up to its name?”

“Pay up and judge for yourself.” Wendy popped her gum and leaned forward. “Assuming you make it out alive. Some pretty creepy things have happened here, you know.”

Dipper knew exactly how much truth there was in Wendy’s words, but he hadn’t expected this Danny guy to look so thoughtful.

Danny pulled some change out of his pocket and frowned at it. “Not sure I brought enough with me,” he said. Dipper squinted, but the money looked real enough from where he stood, and it—and Danny’s speech patterns—weren’t super old or anything like that.

He wasn’t about to write off Danny’s similarity to Phantom as a coincidence, though.

Not after everything else he’d learned was true this summer.

Especially when it felt like he’d just barely scratched the surface.

Besides, if Phantom could impersonate a human, maybe that’s what the coded message said. And maybe he wasn’t really a phantom after all if he could do that; he might just be pretending to be a phantom. Maybe he wasn’t even really a ghost. Mabel was right; the description wasn’t perfect, and the entries in the journal were meticulous. Dipper couldn’t imagine the author getting something like this wrong.

But if this Danny was dangerous, maybe the author hadn’t studied him long enough before hiding him away.

Except…. If the author had known he was dangerous, they’d have said that. They wouldn’t have put any warning in a code that couldn’t be broken. Maybe the author hadn’t known what Phantom really was. Maybe they hadn’t even known what the thermos contained.

But if they hadn’t, who had told them about the special thermos in the first place? And why wouldn’t the author have just dug behind the shack like Dipper had to find out? The book was full of other instances where the author had gone searching for something to satisfy their curiosity.

Dipper didn’t notice that Mabel had offered to cover the difference in Danny’s admission fee until she was handing money to Wendy, and by then it was too late to protest—or prove—that Mabel’s money was most likely his, just ‘borrowed’. He wondered if she’d asked him when he’d been too busy to notice or just informed him when he’d been too busy to notice.

Mabel grabbed Danny’s hand and pulled him towards the entrance, but she shot a look at him over her shoulder, and Dipper realized she was trying to buy him time.

He just didn’t know what to do with it. He didn’t know what Phantom was, what Danny was, didn’t know if it really was a coincidence that he looked like Phantom and shared a name and happened to be visiting Gravity Falls just then (though all of that was why Dipper didn’t think it mere coincidence). And he didn’t know how he could find out. If Danny had given a last name, Mabel hadn’t told him, so he couldn’t even run into town to see if Danny’s story held water.

Wendy raised her eyebrows at him. “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to go in with them?”

Dipper hesitated, but he hadn’t told Wendy everything yet, and he didn’t want to start with this mystery in the journal. “I’ll catch up with them in a bit.”

Wendy smirked. “Giving Mabel some time alone with her new target?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Dipper said. He’d been less enthused by Mabel’s rotating—and, more to the point, highly questionable—boyfriends so far. He was pretty sure some maybe-phantom wouldn’t be on her list, but there were some things he really didn’t understand about his sister, and that was one of them. Hopefully Danny didn’t turn out to be a vampire. That would really take the cake. Although he had never heard any lore about vampires turning into mist, so….

He had to figure this out. Mabel thought the same thing he did—that Danny and Phantom were connected somehow—or she wouldn’t have called him down in the first place. She’d let him know whatever Danny said to her, so there was no point in eavesdropping, but he couldn’t possibly dig up something on Danny in such a short period of time, and they’d already looked for any trace Phantom might have left behind.

The only thing Dipper could think of doing right now was to test his theory that Danny and Phantom were connected, but the only way he could think of doing that—

He was going to regret this.

“If Mabel asks, I’m upstairs,” he told Wendy, but Mabel wouldn’t ask, because Mabel would know. Mabel had probably come to this conclusion the moment she’d seen Danny, and her distracting him by taking him on a tour had been her way of telling Dipper that all this stuff was more his territory than hers.

He’d have to try summoning Phantom—and face whatever consequences came with that.

XXXXX

There was something wrong here, but Danny couldn’t figure out what it was. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but it slowly became harder and harder to listen to Mabel as she excitedly pointed out one exhibit or another. He knew at a glance that most things were fake, but some of the others—

Danny shivered, but he couldn’t shake this feeling he had, and now he wasn’t sure if it was wrongness at all; now it felt like there was somewhere he needed to be, something he needed to find, something, something, something—

Maybe this was why he was here? If it wasn’t Vlad, it had to be something. Heck, even if it was Vlad, Vlad wouldn’t be above trying to use him to get something, though Danny had no idea what that something might be. Or how to avoid playing right into Vlad’s hands.

Maybe he should just try to go home. He didn’t need to stay here. He could head into town. Buy a map—or at least look at one, since he was out of money. Or phone Jazz or Sam and Tucker to come and pick him up in the Spectre Speeder or even the Fenton Jet. How long had he been gone? It was still summer, but that didn’t tell him if it had been a day or a week, and if it was a week, Jazz would be frantic, especially if Sam and Tucker weren’t able to fill her in on whatever had happened, and whatever excuse they’d told his parents would be coming apart and—

Danny felt in his pocket, found his phone, and pulled it out. It was dead. Again. He really needed to start carrying a charger….

He looked up to see Mabel staring at him. He didn’t know if she’d asked him a question or if she’d just noticed that he wasn’t paying attention to her.

“Do you guys have a phone I can use?” he asked. It wasn’t tactful—he would’ve had to have been paying closer attention to Mabel’s one-sided conversation to figure out how to best slip in a question like that—but for some reason, it was hard to concentrate, and— “I was supposed to meet up with my sister.” He was rambling now, lies mixing with truth. “She’s going to freak if she thinks I got lost. It’ll be long distance, though. Is that okay?” He couldn’t offer to pay, not when he’d used the last of his change to get into this tourist trap.

Mabel blinked in surprise but nodded. “Just don’t tell Grunkle Stan,” she said, even though he had no idea who that was. She led him through another door half-hidden behind a stuffed jackalope, into a hallway, and through to the kitchen. She pointed to a phone mounted on the wall.

“Thanks,” he said. He knew a handful of numbers by heart, and Jazz’s cell phone was one of them. He’d call her first—she could deal with their parents and tell Sam and Tucker and figure out a plan to get him home—and then—

“We’re sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again.”

“I…must’ve misdialled,” Danny said slowly, hanging up before trying again. He’d thought—

“We’re sorry; you have reached—”

No.

He knew that was Jazz’s number. He knew it, and he definitely hadn’t gotten it wrong the second time.

He dialled it a third time anyway.

“We’re sorry—”

Danny slammed the phone back onto its hook. He couldn’t even pretend it was something wrong with the line. This phone wasn’t cordless, even though he could see the cradle for a cordless phone on the opposite counter. Whatever this was, it wasn’t just some power outage somewhere. Back home, he’d suspect Technus was planning something, but here….

“Her phone must be dead, too,” Danny heard himself say. “I…I should go. See if I can find her. Or my parents. I didn’t exactly tell anyone where I was going.” Truth in his lies again. “They’re going to be wondering where I am. They won’t know I followed the signs for this place. They won’t be looking for me here.”

Mabel said something, but he wasn’t listening to her. He just needed to go, to find out what had happened, to get a hold of Jazz or Sam or Tucker or anyone—

He wasn’t sure he remembered to say goodbye before he went out the kitchen door and started running for the path in the woods.

He was sure to wait until the path twisted and the trees closed off behind him, hiding him from the shack and anyone who might’ve been watching, and then he transformed, and then—

Something grabbed him, pulled, and Danny screamed.

XXXXXX

Mabel heard the cry from upstairs. It wasn’t Dipper’s, but she told Wendy it was, told her that Dipper was just surprised, and waved her off as she took the stairs two at a time. Dipper was sitting on their bedroom floor with the journal. He’d shoved the rug and a few stray clothes and balls of yarn aside and drawn a circle in the middle of the floor with chalk. A few candles burned even though sunlight still streamed in from the window.

Floating in the circle, breathing hard, was Phantom.

She didn’t break eye contact with him when he met her gaze. She didn’t know if she could. “Dipper?”

“It took a while.” His voice was hoarse. “Longer than it should’ve.”

Phantom stared. Looked down at the circle. Looked back at them. “Did….” He stopped. Licked his lips. Swallowed. “Did one of you make a wish?”

Neither of them answered. The journal had warned that phantoms would cause pain to those who summoned them, would trick people into thinking they’d summoned them, but the details were too scarce for her liking. And what she’d seen with Danny hadn’t convinced her that the book had everything right, at least in Phantom’s case.

“This was magic,” Phantom said. “It…it has to be magic.” He pointed at the journal. “Is that a spell book or something?”

He looked around when he was met with silence, but he didn’t leave the circle.

“Maybe you should just exorcise him,” Mabel whispered, but Phantom heard her.

He spun around, green eyes wide with panic. “No! Seriously, please, don’t. You can’t. I don’t even want to know what—” He broke off. Shook his head. “This has to be Desiree, right? Somebody made a wish. Back home, maybe. Or maybe this isn’t even real. I don’t know. But this…. It’s powerful. And I wouldn’t be dreaming something like this. It’s gotta be Desiree. I have to stop her. You have to let me go.”

He was trapped, then. Dipper had gotten it right. Not that she’d ever thought he might have gotten it wrong. It was Dipper. He was good at this kind of thing. Better than she’d ever be.

“Please.” He was looking between them now, floating as close to the edge of the circle as he could, his feet only inches above the floor. “If Desiree is here, that’s not good, and you rea—”

Mabel didn’t think she’d blinked, but now Phantom was sitting in the middle of the circle, crossed-legged, his head in his hands.

Mabel heard Dipper’s sharp inhale and knew he’d seen it, too. Whatever it was.

Phantom finally spoke without lifting his head. “If you stay on this road,” he mumbled, “you’ll find yourself on a path you can’t turn away from.” He looked up then, scowling, and added, “Apparently, I’m supposed to warn you, because someone decided I make a good poster boy for interdimensional safety and the consequences of the lack thereof.”

next | check out my other fics

#danny phantom #gravity falls #dp fanfiction #gf fanfiction #crossover #fanfiction #mabel pines #dipper pines #danny fenton #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #dp snippet #gf snippet #crossover snippet #happy birthday bibliophileap #and thanks to hashtag-art for giving me permission to write a fic #you'd think I'd have the entire fic done since it's been so long #but uh #I got distracted

[kumeko]

Title: spring cleaning

A/N: For the @mmrikazine ! I wanted to do a bit of Rika and Yoosung’s relationship, before it all went wrong.

…

…

…

Dried by the harsh sun, the once soft soil had hardened until it was like armour. Rika pressed her fingers against the cracked earth, tracing the web-like lines that laced the surface. After a few minutes of prodding, she found a weak spot and pushed her trowel into it. The metal barely scratched the surface.

 This garden clearly hadn’t been cared for in months. Frowning, she gripped her trowel tighter and shoved it in harder. Eventually, the earth gave in, revealing the dark earth underneath. An exposed worm wriggled from a hole, showing a good sign that at least the soil had some nutrients left.

 “This is impossible!” Yoosung grunted next to her. Sweat dripped down his face as he stood, back bent, a shovel in both hands. Earlier in the morning, he had confidently taken the tool from her, claiming that he could handle the heavy labour. Now if she were to ask, Rika was certain the answer would be different. “Am I hitting a rock? Is this all rock?”

 Rika chuckled, sitting back. Her knees sank into the brittle grass, a soft cracking as stems broke under her weight. “This garden hasn’t been taken care of properly,” she agreed, clasping her hands on her lap.

“That’s an understatement.” Yoosung shot her a baleful look, his eyes watery. Her teenage cousin had a sense of drama to him and she half-wondered if he should take the stage with Zen one day. “You sure this is even a garden?”

 “Hmmm…” Slowly, Rika glanced around her. They were in the middle of a closed off courtyard, placed in the center of a senior center. Tall brick walls rose around diamond-shaped space, with a short path meandering through it from one doorway to another. There were two benches along the path and a large tree, its branches bare. Turning back to Yoosung, she cocked her head. “It looks like one.”

 Yoosung flushed a bright red. Rubbing his wrists, he turned away and mumbled, “Well, yeah, I know that much, but…”

 She giggled once more. Her cousin was adorable. Still, she couldn’t let him get too sore, not when he had school the next day. Standing up, she brushed the dirt off her cotton skirt. “We can take a break if you want.”

 Yoosung perked up, excited. The shovel almost fell out of his hands. “Ye—” Quickly, he closed his mouth. He straightened his spine, standing straight and tall. “I can still work.”

 “Really?” Rika glanced at his determined face. Yoosung really did like to push himself above and beyond what was required. Even this, helping her with all of her volunteer work, was something she didn’t expect from a highschool student. It certainly wasn’t the most exciting way for a kid to spend the day.

 “R-really.” His arms trembled as he lifted the shovel once more, his body revealing just how worn out he was. Patches of sweat and dirt stained his ratty old t-shirt, an indication of just how much effort he’d put in so far. “I’m good.”

 How stubborn. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she closed her eyes wearily. “It’s hot for a spring day. Water would be nice, don’t you think?”

 “Water?” Yoosung swallowed, his grip loosening.

 “And maybe a snack—we’ve been at this for hours, after all.” Rika rubbed her belly with a sigh. It wasn’t a complete lie; there had been a soft, gnawing in the pit of her stomach for a while now.

 “…me too,” he admitted, finally letting go of the shovel. He gave one last look at the garden they’d spent almost the entire morning on.

 While it wasn’t much progress, it looked much better than it had when they’d first arrived. The courtyard had three flowerbeds, all in various states of disrepair. Considering how long the first one was taking them, it’d be a couple of weekends before they got the senior center’s courtyard into a useable condition. At least this particular flower bed was cleared of all the dead plants now.

 Well, almost all the dead plants. A single, withered sunflower stalk stood at the edge of the bed. Noticing Yoosung’s hesitation, she gave one final push. “How about we take a break after pulling out that plant?”

 “Yes.” Eager to prove his strength, Yoosung marched over to the stalk and gripped it with both hands. Tensing his muscles, he pulled.

 And nothing happened. Surprised, Yoosung stared at the plant. “Huh?”

 “Try again!” Rika encouraged, following after him. The sun beat down on the back of her neck, her clothes sticking to her skin uncomfortably. A cold shower would be nice after this.

 “Yeah!” Planting his feet firmly into the ground, he growled as he pulled on the stalk. It crackled under his grip, the stalk slowly breaking, yet the plant remained secure in the soil. Yoosung grunted, but no matter how he changed his posture, it refused to move.

 Rika blinked. Now, this was strange. While her cousin wasn’t the most athletic, a sunflower shouldn’t cause this much trouble. Rolling up her sleeves, she stood next to him. “Here, I’ll help.”

 Yoosung frowned, ready to protest, but he couldn’t deny the facts. Grumpily, he shifted his hands, clearing a space for her to grab. “Thanks,” he mumbled, his ears red from embarrassment.

 “This is what volunteering is about, helping each other,” Rika replied tactfully. “On three—ready? One, two, pull!”

 Synchronized, they leaned back as they pulled. The sunflower stalk splintered in their hands in a massive crack, snapping as their muscles strained. Still, the flower refused to budge. Even while seemingly dead, the sunflower didn’t want to leave its home, no matter how harsh it was to live there. Rika dug her heels in. The earth shook from the pressure before finally giving in, releasing the sunflower and its maze of roots. Surprised, Rika and Yoosung fell backwards onto the lawn.

 “Oof!” Yoosung gasped as his butt hit the ground. The sunflower stalk was still in his hands and he stared in shock. “We got it.”

 “We did.” Rika rubbed her sore behind, looking back at the hole in the soil. It shouldn’t have been so hard. Maybe the earth was more packed in than she had expected.

 “We did it!” Yoosung leaped to his feet, holding his trophy above him. He shook it and dirt rained down on his hair. Immediately, he dropped it, his hands running through his hair to clean it. “Oh my god, are there any worms? Bugs?”

 Laughing, she got up and reached for his head. He still hadn’t had his growth spurt yet, their heights almost identical. “Lean closer, I’ll take a look.”

 Obediently, he bent forward, pushing his hair into her hands. His eyes were squeezed close and his hands closed into a tight fist. “Are there any?” he asked in a high-pitched voice, shaking in fear.

 “Let me see.” Calmly, she parted his hair, brushing through the locks and pulling out clumps of dirt as she inspected him. His black hair was soft in her hands. Humming as she worked, Rika combed through his hair twice before finally releasing him. “All good.”

 He straightened up, gingerly touching his scalp. Cross-eyed, he impossibly tried to look up at the top of his head. “Thanks.”

 It was only now that Rika realized just how dirty her cousin had become. “You’re a mess!” Quickly, Rika dusted off his shoulders and shirt. It didn’t help—instead, it made things worse as the dirt smeared against his blue t-shirt. With a sigh, she gave up and set her hands on her hips. “Auntie isn’t going to be happy.”

 “Huh?” Yoosung stared down at his shirt, pulling at the hem until he witnessed the extent of the damage. His eyes widened before he covered his face with a moan. “Mom’ll never let me live this down.”

 “I guess she won’t let you volunteer with me anymore,” Rika sighed ruefully. While her aunt was kind, that could only go so far and if she was anything like Rika’s mother…

 “No, it’ll be fine!” Sensing her distress, Yoosung vehemently shook his head. “Mom’s happy you take me out with you—I don’t get enough sun otherwise, according to her.”

 “Really?” Surprised, Rika stared at him. Could anyone be fine with their kid coming home a mess?

 “Yeah, really.” Yoosung grinned brightly. He reached out and clasped her hands. “She actually wants you to take me out more.”

 Rika didn’t know what to say. It must have been nice, growing up with Auntie. Overcome, she squeezed his hands back. Yoosung’s stomach grumbled at that very moment and he blushed. Letting go of her, he turned away and marched stiffly to the closest bench. “So. Lunch.”

 Laughing, Rika followed him. His backpack and her picnic basket were sitting on the metal grate. The tree’s shadows created a lattice network of naked branches on the ground. Sitting down next to her basket, she rummaged through her basket, taking out plates and cups. She passed them to Yoosung, who neatly set them next to him. “I made sandwiches.”

 “Nice!” Yoosung took one of the carefully wrapped sandwiches, peeling back the paper towel and saran wrap to reveal the white bread inside. Biting it, he moaned happily. “This is amazing!”

 “I’m glad you like it.” Rika brushed a lock behind her ear, pleased. “V helped me with them, he made the sauce.”

 “That’s…good.” Yoosung’s face fell, his voice stilted.

 It was something Rika had noticed before, but she wasn’t sure she completely understood it. “You don’t like it?”

 “No, no, it’s great!” He rapidly took bite after bite of the sandwich, stuffing his face. “It’s delicious.”

 “Okay.” Rika watched him for a moment, concerned. When he didn’t say anything else, she took a sandwich of her own. Glancing around the abandoned garden, she took note of the leafless trees, the withered plants. There was a desolate beauty to the place and she could just picture her boyfriend with his tripod, focusing on the perfect shot. “V would like it here.”

 Yoosung’s lips twisted, looking like he bit something sour. “Too bad he’s not here.”

 Twice. This had happened twice and both times when she’d mentioned V. Scrutinizing her cousin, Rika delicately asked, “What do you think of V?”

 Yoosung choked, dropping his sandwich on his lap at the unexpected question. As he coughed, Rika pushed a water bottle in his hand. Her other hand patted his back gently, trying to dislodge the obstruction.

 He downed the water in three big gulps. Breathing heavily, he stared at her like a deer in the headlights. “What?”

 She wasn’t sure if she wanted to ask the question anymore but if his reaction was like that, she had to find out the truth. “What do you think of V?”

 “He’s…nice…and kind…” Yoosung mumbled, wiping the water from his mouth. He averted his gaze as he picked the sandwich off his lap. “And a good photographer.”

 “Did he do something to you?” Concerned, she squeezed his shoulder. “You can tell me.”

 “What?” Startled, Yoosung shook his head quickly. “Nothing—why’d you think that?”

 “Because of how you’re acting.” Rika pulled back, perplexed. If V didn’t do anything to Yoosung, then why did her cousin have such an extreme reaction? “You don’t like him.” She hadn’t meant to say that, but as they left her tongue, the words rang true. Finally understanding, she repeated, “You don’t like him.”

 “What? No! That’s—” Yoosung stuttered. When it was clear she didn’t buy it, he hung his head in defeat. “Maybe just a little.”

 “A little?” she asked.

 “A little,” he confirmed, indicating the amount with the distance between his thumb and forefinger. After a moment, he increased the distance. “…more than a little.”

 “Why?” Rika asked, pressing her hands against her skirt. Her fingers clenched against the fabric as she waited for his answer.

 “I…I dunno.” Uncomfortable, Yoosung peeked at her and then stared down at his lap. “I…just do.”

 “Oh.” It was…not disappointing, to be exact. Sad? Her heart clenched. He didn’t like V. Her two favourite people couldn’t be together. “That’s…”

 “But…” Yoosung interrupted. “You love him.”

 Not sure where he was taking this, she nodded. Like. Love. She wasn’t sure she had a word that could describe her feelings, these emotions that threatened to overwhelm her at times. Brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, she gave a small smile. “I do.”

 Puffing his cheeks, Yoosung looked away. Begrudgingly, he raised his hand again. The gap between his fingers was almost minute now. “Then…I can like him too.”

 The feeling that overwhelmed her this time was love, was happiness, was joy. Without thinking, she lunged at him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. Her cheeks were wet with tears as she pressed her face into his shoulder. “Yoosung!”

 “Rika?” Struggling to adjust to the added weight, Yoosung grabbed hold of the bench.

 “I’m just…” She didn’t know what to say. Long ago, she had assumed that she’d be lucky if even one person accepted her. And now she had two. “Thank you.”

 “It’s…nothing.” Awkwardly, he patted her back. His stomach gurgled again, and she could feel more than see his skin turning red. “Not again!”

 This time her stomach grumbled as well, reminding her about the lunch that they both seemingly had forgotten in her excitement. Pulling back, she wiped her eyes. “Come on, let’s finish eating.”

#yoosung kim #rika #mystic messenger #Yoosung & rika #fanfic #their relationship makes me sad

[ailuronymy]

do you think it’d make sense for a clan to have a specialized burial place for cats who like, did completely terrible things? it’d be a really small sect of territory ofc especially w so few cats going that far, but I could see a belief that burying them near other cats is disrespectful, or even a superstition that their evil will spread or remain in the Clan, so an area is picked out where no one else is buried nearby to ‘quarantine’ the body of the bad cat.

What an interesting question, Ruddles! My answer is no, I don’t think that makes sense–but not for the reason you probably think. It’s got nothing to do with the actual issue (”should bad cats share the same resting place as good cats?”) and everything to do with the fact, to my thinking, absolutely no clan cats ought to be buried at all.

What I’m saying is that the problem here is the premise: “clan cats bury their dead.” This is canon’s solution to the body problem–i.e., the high death toll of Warriors + it is a children’s series = we need somewhere to hide the bodies and not think too much about decay and rot. Before I continue, I want to say I don’t think this is an unwise marketing decision on behalf of Erin Hunter or their publisher, whoever made that call, because it’s an icky and difficult subject to tackle and it’s definitely a lot easier to just vanish the corpses. It’s tidy and it keeps things untroubling for kids who’re just in it for the fun and the fighting and the romance and that’s fine. 

However, it does not make for believable world-building–to my mind, at least. Cats are not made for digging. If you compare the paws and claws of a cat and a dog, it becomes very apparent that a dog is adept at digging (thick, blunt, reinforced nails + broad but not especially nimble digits) and a cat is adept at climbing and grasping (thin retractable curved claws + more flexible digits) and the reverse is not true. Dogs have bad feet for climbing trees or holding prey (tend to use jaws instead), and cats cannot dig particularly well or for long, especially not without damaging their paws.

What that means is that digging is a low result, high energy output activity for cats. They can cover their dirt, but that’s about it. Burying a dead body is a lot of work. Ancient humans (also naturally bad at digging) could do it successfully only because of tool-making skills; it requires a shovel and a serious amount of effort to dig a hole deep enough to prevent scavengers from digging up a body. (See above: dogs, badgers, foxes, all of whom exist in clan territories and are good at digging–much better than cats). 

If the purpose of burial is to “protect” the body from scavengers, then clan cats have a big problem: they have to dig a new, very deep hole every time someone dies, and they are much worse at the activity than the creatures they’re trying to outdig. Additionally, digging something that deep takes time and it means your head is down and your bum is up in the air the whole (no pun intended) time, which is a highly dangerous position, because you can’t also keep a lookout.

Canonically, elders are responsible for burying the dead; elders are canonically also frequently mentioned to be among the weaker and less physically able members of the clan. So unless holes are dug well in advance in preparation, the elders would be left to dig a grave in a race against the natural decomposition of a (fairly small) body with no preservatives or cold room. Given that canon’s environment is inspired heavily by English countryside, this means that in winter and during colder times, the ground is going to be literally solid. 

(An adopted grandmother of mine told me a story about when she used to live in England and they had to bury a little bird. She had to boil the kettle and thaw the ground with it before they could even get the trowel in a little).

So what I’m saying is, even if they started the moment of death and continued throughout the night of the vigil, I’m sure you can see how this is going to go for the elders. It’s almost a Sisyphean task! It’s not practical. As an activity, burying the dead would be a huge expenditure of clan labour and time and given the death rate of living in a clan, I can’t see it as being a viable option. 

I also don’t really see burial as culturally a likely choice for the clans. I don’t think there’s only one way of doing things and I’m not saying it’d be impossible for a clan to do burial: it’s just something I would need to be convinced by within a story and setting. How the dead are treated and how the rituals surrounding death are preformed and passed on are super important in every culture, so I feel this part of clan life is ripe for thinking about and developing in your world-building!

But now I’ve said all this, to engage with your actual question: taking into consideration the considerable effort a clan would have to go to bury anyone, why would they go to that energy for something unworthy to be buried with the clan? Why would someone so terrible that they’re not allowed to be buried in the same ground as the rest of their family be allowed to be buried at all? There might be a place where the bodies of bad cats are left, far away from everyone else, but the idea of burying them–with everything above in mind–seems… unlikely to me. I hope this answers your question somewhat and gives you some interesting things to think about!

#Anonymous