#chrysanthemum writes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avvail · 8 months

Note

Inspiration dare: pick a flower, any flower, and find a way to incorporate it into a story.

Have a nice weekend :)

The villain never really liked flowers.

The thought of displaying them in their home never really resonated them, no matter how many times the hero would tell them it helps clear the air, and it might help them think a little better.

The villain could think fine on their own. They didn’t need flowers to do that.

The hero brought them over one time. A pot of Chrysanthemums, all neat and tidy and effecting their plain home with a splash of vibrant colour.

“Aren’t they just so pretty?” the hero would say, smile warm and their eyes sparkling. The villain would always hum, frown, and then huff.

“For flowers, I suppose,” they would shrug. The hero would laugh, apparently finding their words funny. Every single time.

“I love them,” they would giggle. “They’re my favourite. But no one’s ever really given me flowers as a gift.”

The villain would then hum again, bitterly. “That so?”

It wasn’t that they didn’t care.

But they wished, every day, that they would have showed that. That even if they didn’t care for flowers, they would have taken a second out of their day to buy some for hero. To see their eyes light up, to see what they would look like when they were gifted their favourite little plants.

There were a lot of flowers lay upon hero’s grave.

No one ever gifted them to the hero, but the city knew that they loved them. It was cruel, disgusting sight, that bland, overbearing gravestone covered with hundreds upon hundreds of flowers.

Flowers that the hero would never see. Flowers that the hero would never even know they recieved.

The villain realised, on that day, staring at their grave, that the hero was their flower. They had been that splash of colour in their home. In their life. The villain resented flowers so much because they didn’t compare to the beauty of the one in front of them.

They never layed flowers on their grave.

Instead, they created a garden of Chrysanthemums to fill the void of their beloved hero. It was never quite enough. But the villain knew the hero would have loved it, adored it, even, and that was okay with them.

241 notes · View notes

tvlipsandbread · 2 days

Text

"I look for myself but find no one. I belong to the Chrysanthemum hour of bright flowers placed in tall vases."

" I should make an ornament of my soul." - Fernado Pessoa

22 notes · View notes

latenightsushi · 2 months

Text

March 1st! 🌼

#tea #flowers #chrysanthemum tea #notebook #journal #writing #desk #cozy #hygge #spring #flower tea #latenightsushi

11 notes · View notes

the-dark-lord-chaos · 8 months

Text

I’ve started making a Tom Riddle tarot deck. Based off the original Rider Waite tarot deck design wise but I modify as necessary to how I perceive his character

^^ Here’s what I’ve been using to decide what plants/flowers I want to replace the original with (if I decide to), if anyone’s curious

#he’s basically an OC at this point #He’s so developed beyond canon that I can’t even read fics anymore without feeling like it’s inaccurate #Bonus is that he’s helping me learn tarot SO much faster though #the power of special interests #not writing #my art stuff #I’ll probably upload the other cards as I go #planning to just do major arcana right now #but who knows #I might branch out #might be hard to tell but the plant he’s holding in the fool is fireweed #plants in the magician are fern and white chrysanthemum #tom riddle #tom riddle fanart #harry potter fanart #harry potter #reblog not repost #Ridd7e

19 notes · View notes

greenchrysanthemum20 · 2 months

Text

Permanent Changes to Brain Chemistry (Or, This isn't the Genre you Think it is)

Hmmm, been thinking about Coffee Theory lately, and also the new wave of Aziraphale had a plan and was trying to communicate in Secret Code to Crowley but Crowley didn't get the part where it was in fact a code..... I have to wonder as someone who has been around the fandom block once or twice, I think both of these theories come from the same place: The Sherlock Hiatus. Yes, folks, we are in the new rendition of The Hiatus™. It feels weird to call it that, as Good Omens is not a show that regularly airs but that fact that we will be in a drought of Canon from August 2023 to 2026 at probably the soonest means that we are in fact in A Hiatus Season. Well, what the fuck does Sherlock have to do with Good Omens ??

I'm glad you asked! My New Thought of the week is that the Sherlock Hiatus permanently changed the brain chemistry on this website, or at least of fans of a certain stripe. Sherlock was a show that I obsessed over (rather late to the game, in 2017), and so did many others. With the cliffhanger of Sherlock's jump at the end of season 2, there was nothing for fans to do but theorize and theorize and theorize.

Sherlock was also a show that actively hated its queer legacy, and by extension, its fandom (looking at you, Steven Moffat). This is getting long so my point is, I think the off-beat super complex theories about GO and the final fifteen come from a place of being actively cat-fished by Sherlock, years ago. I mean, Sherlock S3E1 basically took all of fans' theories, tore them to shreds, spit on them, lit them on fire, and then presented it's own, Even More Crackpot theory as to how Sherlock survived??? The whiplash, maaaan.

So fans, having gone through All Of That, with Sherlock, have now come to almost expect mysteries in fannish shows to be overly complicated. And just, that isn't how Good Omens works?? Like, Neil and the rest of the cast and crew Do Love the fandom, and want to tell a story that is Doing Right by the fans. (Dottie and Sadie in Neil's asks are hard not to swing as the products of a good natured uncle winking and thumbing his nose at you). And second, I think these elaborate theories mistake the final fifteen as being part of a mystery show when in reality the final fifteen are part of a tragedy. Aziraphale is Hamlet. He is a tragic hero. We are to root for him, despite his flaws, or even because of them. It is because of Aziraphale's altruism that he makes the choices that he does. Altruism is Aziraphale's Hamartia, his tragic flaw.

He may be being played by Metatron, but because of who he is as a character, as a guardian and protector, Aziraphale cannot walk away from the chance to protect the earth and make things better in heaven without sacrificing a large part of his values and Who He Is. Metatron knows that Aziraphale is altruistic, as a constant, but that that altruism can be twisted and led astray.

In a tragedy, there is a point called Peripeteia, which means the point in which the tragic hero's flaw condemns them to a certain course of action. This is what we see Aziraphale go through in the final fifteen.

He is offered a choice, and he makes a choice, and in the end, it isn't a choice. Looking at GO through the lens of a tragedy, all of those statement can coexist, and they each have equal weight.

Crowley, on the other hand, is Orpheus. Don't look back. You are leaving, you are on your way out the door, you can sense her presence behind you. Don't look back. The cavern grows darker, the threat looms larger, you talk into the echoes, and every time you hear her reply, you cannot tell how far away she is from you. Don't look back.

You look back. You kiss him, furiously, in a bookshop. You have looked. She is taken from you. Crowley knew that that kiss was never going to have worked. But he needed to kiss Aziraphale anyway. He never could have told Aziraphale before the Metatron showed up that he loved him. (Can one blame Orpheus, for being a plaything to the muses?) (Can one escape a Hell that doesn't send Strongly Worded letters?)

You have to look. You have to love her. You have to let her know you love her, even as you cannot have her.

Obviously, Good Omens as a whole isn't a tragedy, but the final fifteen of Season 2 are one, and I think we have a lot to learn from treating them as such.

16 notes · View notes

49-ibr · 3 days

Text

3 DAYS REMAINING!

49: VOLUME 01 is out on May 7th 2024!

THREE UNIQUE TALES. ONE FANTASY WORLD. A SECRET TO UNCOVER.

Here's a peek at one of the characters: Chrysanthemum Clawe!

“Where did they go?” asked the hero, more dazed than she had been in years. A sweet phoenix-wine, topped with a feather, had poured down her throat, followed by dozens of similar concoctions.

And yet, she was alone.

Chrysanthemum wandered the dirt road of the village, finding not a villager in sight. Curtains had been drawn, doors had been bolted, and all that illuminated her path were the half-lit streetlamps already fading away. Everyone was asleep.

But why was everyone asleep?

Sure, it was midnight. The moon was high; the sun had been smothered by a blanket of black. But every village had a notorious drunkard, and most of them had more than one.

The bottle of her latest booze hung loosely in her hand, and Chrysanthemum continued to wander onwards.

“Hello?” she called. “Anyone?”

Not a sound was returned.

Her brow furrowed, her lower lip puckering into a pout. And, with the heaviness of a sack of boulders, Chrysanthemum sat onto the street, uncaring that dirt and droplets of ale stained her favourite skirt, made of an emerald fabric looking somewhat akin to fresh leaves.

“Where did they go?” she mumbled, this time only to herself, as there was nobody around to hear her slurring words.

She kicked a pebble, and, as it rolled away, it got caught on an indent in the road, made from a heavy wagon-wheel tugged through some particularly tough mud. A regular route, or heavy cargo?

Even as intoxicated as she was, Chrysanthemum did not particularly care enough to guess.

Chrysanthemum raised the bottle to her lips, tipping her head all the way back, but only a couple droplets slipped onto her tongue. There was nothing left to guzzle but air, it seemed.

Frowning, she tossed it aside.

Then, Chrysanthemum lay down on the street, limbs all splayed like a woozy starfish. “I need friends,” she mumbled.

There was no one to respond.

“Or family,” she continued. “I should find a pretty damsel and take her away from whatever beast has caged her. We will wed in the kingdom of her dreams, and then build a cottage in the forest.”

She paused, and her tongue darted to catch the remaining droplets of wine that stained her teeth and lips.

“Do you think I could find some animals to build a little home for us? I can talk to animals, you know. I worship the god of Beasts, and I think that means something good.”

Her brow furrowed.

“They didn’t think so,” Chrysanthemum said. “Mother and Father didn’t really agree with any of that stuff. And I never had any friends to bring it up with, either.”

She gave a particularly frustrated huff, rolling onto her side to watch the moss climbing the base of a house, smelling of faint fire-smoke and pungent mud. It was comforting, in a way.

“Where did they go?” she mumbled. “Where did I go?”

Her lips curled into a frown.

“Why did I go?”

#my post #49ibr #chrysanthemum clawe #a claw through the heart #writeblr #writer #writers #fantasy #writing #my writing

5 notes · View notes

literaphobe · 8 months

Note

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! so excited to read the stuff u have planned

JUST BECAUSE U SAID THIS i am giving u a free snippet

#ask #tvl #ladynoir #mlbposting #miraculous ladybug #OHHHH I MISS THEM SO MUCH .#gonna go shower have chrysanthemum ice cream and then WRITE #tvl ch7

13 notes · View notes

arttrampbelle · 8 months

Text

Some self ship art of me x hanzo hasashi.

Self insert au.

Hanzo gets new wife,a 2nd chance and a new beginning. Because he fucking deserves it! And i said so. So suck it nrs and ed boob!

Anyways. This au is pretty simple. Hanzo takes me in and gives me sanctuary,i basically was found near the Shirai-Ryu village which I'm naming Hana village. (Hana meaning flower in Japanese). Now this doesn't take place in some "anciant long lost long ago japanese feudal type ninja shit. (Cuz this is waaaaay after hanzo got healing and is chill now. Character development wasnt forgotten,unlike nrs i give a shit. (Although the shirai-ryu are traditional,and old school af ninja and shinobi/kage,so some elements in the village remain but its rural Japan.) Nah this is modern Osaka,japan. Outside city limits of course and very hidden and protected. Only a few know the way. I would say the closest maybe to what i think hana village would look like is anami village(a real place) but smaller. And more hidden? Either way there is a a red bridge and a torii gate in the front pass to get to it. The other entrances and the southern pass thru a huge ass field. The east pass through dense forest. And the western pass. Which is thru a mountain. The most difficult pass to traverse,however....the safest. As the kage of the shirai-ryu tend only use that to help protect the village.

Anyways. Basically. I wake up in a ninja clan village. Have no idea why im there. Hanzo takes me in. Trains me a bit,tho i am skilled i am by no means a master. So he decided to help me. And things happened,very heated things *wink wink* . Pretty simple plot.

Oh yeah....and a few ninja from an unknown ninja clan tries to attack the village. But fails. But hanzo is sus. Who are these ninja? What do they want? Why did they attack. And why is quan chi back?! Oh shiiiit. The lin kuei give hanzo a clue. And they were rivals with the lin kuei at one point but the clan at the time was smaller and weaker but they got somehow stronger and more powerful, oof. And quan chi is helping them! This mysterious ninja clan is a problem,and perhaps a new threat? And only the masters of fire and ice,grandmaster kuai liang and hanzo hasashi,and hanzo's new wife can stop them!

Ooooo. *dramatic music!*

Ok but fr. I just also wanted an excuse to draw hanzo being protective. And write about my story idea.

(My mk verse(and all it's aus) is gonna be called mk:eternal (because it's truest essence is eternal in my heart. Nrs can't take that from me!) )

*artist note: oops i forgot their rings. Oh well pretend they put them away so they dont get lost or ruined while they whoop ass. 🤷‍♀️ oopsy*

Used a base

I hope y'all like it

🥺💖

👉🏻👈🏻

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My verse,mk:eternal. story,aus,ocs,etc is mine. Of course.

Unfortunately mortal kombat is not. Mk is (c) to nrs (unfortunately)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#im so sad #i wanna write this so bad but i only have so much brain capacity #and im an artist more than a writer #but i try #i hope y'all enjoy this #mortal kombat #hanzo hasashi #scorpion mortal kombat #hanzo hasashi mortal kombat #self ship #self shipping #used a base #💛🏵burning chrysanthemums🏵💛#my art #my aus #my mk au #self insert au #my mk verse #mketernal

9 notes · View notes

awoosmusehorde · 9 months

Text

"Blades that sing, steel that hums... Of all the swords of Yamato, only one name sits among the heavens. Guide my hands that we may achieve peace everlasting with power and majesty shining as the rising sun!"

"Norimune! Sadatsugu! Nobufusa! Kuniyasu! Tsunetsugu! Hisakuni! Kunitomo! Muneyoshi! Tsuguie! Sukemune! Yukikuni! Sukenari! Sukenobu!"

"Kiku-ichimonji! Kōinoken!"

#chrysanthemum blades || kiku ichimonji #anyways felt like writing out a noble phantasm chant for kiku-ichimonji so have this #now I must sleeps

7 notes · View notes

gender-trash · 1 year

Text

im fucking doing it. im writing a chrysanthemum garden downloader script. i know just enough about web scraping to Cause Problems On Purpose and im going to use this knowledge for evil (downloading eight billion tropey danmei novels and sticking them in my ficbinding git repo)

#every time i have a problem i write a python script about it #shoutout to the chrysanthemum garden webmaster who put in a LOT of effort to stop people from doing what i am doing #the trashcan speaks #devil venerable also wants to exploit the memoir class for evil purposes #anyway im not releasing the script publicly but dm me or send me an ask if u want a cg novel downloaded #(for personal use only!!!)#datahoarding tag

17 notes · View notes

chrysanthemum9484 · 8 months

Text

Vlad as a joke decided to give Danny for his 21st birthday a club and five hundred thousand dollars to get it running.

Jokes on Vlad because Danny does a great job by making the club inclusive for anyone and anything.

Human, alien, ghost, god, demon, angel? Doesn't matter. Anyone can come to party as long as they don't cause trouble. You want to make a deal with someone? There are soundproof private rooms for that.

Danny gets Ember in charge of the music. It isn't her style but she gets the night started with an hour of the music she wrote and recorded.

Dan, Wulf and some random buff guy are bouncers with Dan also being the bartender with some ghost Milo guy. There are 10 Banshees whose names I don't know acting as waitresses to the private rooms and some of the booths.

Danny helps all of the roles in the club despite being the owner. He has also made deals with many entities concerning rowdy entities in need of being thrown out.

(Danny made his way wo the Walker's office, every ghost inside eyeing him warily.

"Hvale you heard that Plasmius gifted me a club for my 21st birthday?"

Walker blinked in surprise at the topic, "Yes?"

"I want to make it inclusive to all entities. Ghosts, humans, demons, angels, gods? Doesn't matter. I have already made a few deals to handle most rowdy customers with he exception of ghosts."

Danny paused for a moment to let that sink in.

Walker took advantage of that pause, "You want to send the rowdy ghosts to me?"

"Partially, yes. I was also hoping that you would let Wulf join as a full-time bouncer as part of external prison labour. The other guy who can make portals is one of two bartenders."

Walker thought about it for a moment and then muttered under his breath in Spanish about the request.

"Alright kid. I do however some rules which would need to be followed."

"Reasonable ones I hope." Danny muttered.)

Danny even three years later was surprised with how reasonable the rules were. He also had the feeling that said surprise got Walker to rethink his rules.

Anyway... Now after three years of hard work Danny's club was successful. Many entities came regularly. Humans weren't scared. The Justice League hired regularly a booth and Vlad was looking constipatedly proud.

#chrysanthemum9484 #danny phantom #dpxdc #chrysanthemum writes

883 notes · View notes

pictureinspday · 5 months

Text

Image by Szabolcs Molnar from Pixabay

#flower #chrysanthemum #mums #floral #november #fall #late fall #inspiration #writing inspo #art inspo #11.26

4 notes · View notes

ghoulia-roborts · 1 year

Text

Hi,I wrote this,hope you like it,see ya in part 2

(side note I wrote this as queer platonic dreamling but idc if you interpret it in any other way)

Title: Graveside chrysanthemum.

After having dealt with his nightmares,after having dealt with the dream vortex,after having dealt with every other thing that he had to deal with,Dream felt himself fall into the rhythm he had followed before his abduction.

Well, mostly anyway,at the insistence of his dear friend,Hob gadling,he visited the waking world more frequently.

Once a month to be precise,unless work did not permit it,he would meet him at the new inn,and then they would sometimes go inside, sometimes Hob had something else to show him.

After thier meetings,He would sneak away to check upon the children of the endless. Since they were technically relatives of his,as well as the dream baby,but he would tell himself that it was to make sure to cover all the bases,well ,he would put it in a much more eloquent way,but in the end it was mainly because he wanted to check up on them.

All of this made it seem like things were relatively alright,which they were,but Dream hadn't counted for one more thing.

Emotions, feelings,past pains and future worries.

It was all awfully human really,which is why he ignored it.

He was still learning to be better when communicating with others,let alone communicating with himself.

It was sometimes simple,but most times it was not.

After all, his time inside the glass ball,down in the basement of the burgess estate,did leave lasting effects on him.

It marked him,like the bite or the sting of a venomous creature,it poisoned him,but the poison couldn't kill him.

That just meant that it grabbed into Dream's heart like a fistful of needles.

On one occasion it was total isolation,on another it was dark shadows in the corners of his eyes,and on another,much worse, occasion it was the complete loss of his voice.

It wasn't that Morpheus literally lost his voice,or the ability to speak,it was more so that his demons, figuratively in this instance, suffocated him.

People asked about it, Lucienne, Matthew,Hob,even Death showed up once,but it was always the same answer, "I am fine".

Hob hadn't known what happened exactly,but a bit of investigation,and a small hint from a little birdie, who's master's sister was worried sick,pointed him in the right direction, Roderick Burgess,and the devil he had in his basement.

But even knowing this,he still didn't have the whole story of what happened,he couldn't do much, Morpheus refused to talk about it,and he was horribly stubborn, Hob had the common sense to know that forcing him to speak would've only made him shut him out more.

The effects of that incident were unfortunately not limited to his psyche,as Dream's worries started manifesting themselves in his realm.

It was small,or maybe it was big, it's hard to tell when the dreaming was endless.

A black spot,like mold ,with dark tendrils growing out of it,a tree,a monument to his pain.

He was taken aback by it's existence,so he hid it,he had experience with hiding things he didn't want others to see.

he ignored it,and it festered more and more with each passing moment,like rotten fruit,if left unchecked,even the freshest harvest would be ruined.

Well, apparently ignoring it only made it worse,who would've thought,he certainly didn't.

Morpheus decided to take it head on,face his problems,alone, without telling anyone else,that was not a particularly bright idea on his part either.

He had told Lucienne that he was going out to check something personally,when she asked if he required assistance,he refused politely and told her that it was a simple matter.

One wouldn't use simple to describe it,one would use words such as "treacherous" or "troublesome" or "tiring" or "terrible " or "bad".

As he walked through his realm,past the mountains,below the entrance of a cave,by a shinning blue river, through a thick forest, exiting to a vast desert, taking a boat through an endless ocean,and reaching another,unrelated forest.

There was something odd about this forest,a dark cancer had taken hold of it's trees, turning them into something that resembled diseased veins.

It ate at them, leaving only bare bones behind,clusters of coal colored branches reached into the grey sky.

He inspected one such tree quietly,his expression was troubled,brows scrunched up in a frown,it felt cold to the touch,and so brittle that one could easily break it if they pushed a bit too hard.

And yet,he continued,he was the creator of nightmares and dreams,and he would conquer this nightmare.

Reaching the center of the mass,he found a house.

No,it was not a house,nor a home,or an abode,or a habitation,it was cold, devoid of any warmth such words might invoke,it was a building.

The roof was red,made out of circular brick tiles, almost like scales,with a chimney jutting out of it,there was no smoke in the chimney.

It's small,pale yellow walls hugged a brown door at the front,an empty window beside it,and flowerless flower pots below it.

This would've made Dream shiver ,if he was human,but he was not,so he couldn't shiver,but he was unsettled nonetheless.

Darkness seeped out of the house like spllattered blood, stretching in all directions, though the house looked untouched, Dream knew that as opposed to the plants that the dark rot had corrupted,this house was made of the stuff.

This realization did nothing to ease his nerves.

He stepped forward, taking hold of the doorknob,as he opened the door he felt a cold wind rush from inside.

He entered the house,there was nothing,the floor was a deep black,it looked wet, the walls were an ashy grey,stained with soot.

Upon closer inspection there were stairs that went upwards,the steps were just as dirty as the floor,the railings an old brown color.

He closed the door behind him.The steps Dream took startled him, splashing at his coat,but what really grabbed his attention was the bubbling of dark sludge Infront of him.

It crawled,or rather it climbed up to form itself into something ,at first unclear to Dream,then once the bubbling stopped,it took on the shadow of the Corinthian.

Then, almost immediately,it changed to John Dee,then to the morningstar,then to the shape of Jessamy,after that,it mimicked Robert Burgess.

And finally,it settled on mirroring Dream.

Something had him completely frozen, time had slowed to a cold, hostile halt,the thing that looked like him approached him slowly,steps stretching out over hours,he felt as though he was back in that prison of glass, alone.

His eyes were wide,his breath was slow,he trembled slightly,and as it reached for his face,his body suddenly jolted with a start towards the stairs,like a caged animal,he didn't even consider the door to be an option, perhaps he knew that it wouldn't open.

Rushing up the stairs,he ended up in another empty room, a window was behind him but he was sure it's placement didn't fit what he saw on the outside,but he didn't care at that point.

Behind him was a flock of bats that screeched loudly,they flew all around him,he tried to swat them away but there were too many, between the flying black shapes he saw an elephant head mounted on the wall he was facing,a trophy,the head moved as it screamed, joining the cacophony of animal sounds the drowned his ears .

Then he fell down a deep,deep hole.

To describe where he was would be to describe how he was,and he was not doing well.

Frigid waters surrounded him,no up or down, losing all senses slowly.

For a moment,a moment that might as well been several years,he was scared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hob Gadling had noticed that his friend missed thier rendezvous,which didn't raise any alarms,it had happened before,and Dream usually showed up a few days later with an unnecessary excuse.

Well,he was rather cross ,he was really looking forward to showing Dream this new book he picked up,but he wasn't that disgruntled.

Hob ,even though immortal,was still just a human,and he certainly couldn't force Dream of the endless,lord of the dreaming to meet him, nonetheless, Morpheus took it very seriously.

Hob might as well have been some sort of ...very... important figure?he wasn't very good at coming up with metaphors on the fly,but the main thing was that Dream seemed to like these excursions.

It made Hob happy seeing how interested he seemed to be in everything,in turn Hob would ask him questions about the universe itself,a few questions about him, though with how tight lipped Dream was he rarely ever got an answer,he didn't mind.

All of that is besides the point,as Hob currently had a raven pecking at his window,and it was nearly 12 am.

Hob was confused for a second,he opened the window and the raven was still there, as if waiting for him to move aside,and Hob did so.

It was none other than Matthew,he hopped inside and landed on a table in the middle of the room.

"...Hey, you're the raven right...uh.... Matthew?" Hob said carefully,he felt a pang of recognition,but there was a chance this was a random raven that he let inside his house,it was small chance,but it still existed.

Was it rude to say most ravens looked the same to him? probably not the best time to ask that question.

"How'd you know?" Matthew responded.

"Well, I don't usually attract birds much"Hob smiled slightly.

"Are you in the habit of letting random animals inside your house?" Asked the raven,with a rather sarcastic tone.

"Occasionally" the human responded,also sarcastically.

Matthew croaked "look ,as much as I'd like to chat more ,we kinda have a situation" he said.

"Something happened,and we need your help, Lucienne told me to give you this" with his beak, Matthew pulled out a stone, Hob wasn't sure where it was even stored ,but he grabbed it, inspecting it in his hand.

It was obsidian,a rainbow obsidian to be precise,or at least it looked like it,star shaped,with random lines of dark greens and pinks,it had small glittery bits like stars.

"What's this?" Hob asked ,he held up the stone to the light emanating from the lightbulb on the ceiling,it was opaque.

"Some sort of magical gem that's supposed to help you dream better"Matthew explained" Lucienne said it'll get you straight to the palace"

"And then?"

"Then she'll talk to you ,I guess? they're waiting for you to explain the rest of the plan"

"How do I use it though?" Hob thought of many different ways of using it,none of them were correct however.

"She said to just put it under your pillow and go to sleep" Matthew answered him"pretty simple, right?"

"I guess so..."he fell into a thoughtful silence,dream needed his help?he was worried at the idea,Dream never needed anyone's help,at least that's what he thought,he needed help a lot actually,Hob stopped thinking about how much help Dream needed and instead had the thought that the dreaming was having a party and they needed all hands on deck for the preparations,that was a nice thought,even if it was completely wrong.

After a moment of silent awkwardness that one would think impossible to achieve considering the nature of the situation at hand, Matthew spoke "I'm gonna leave now" and with that he flew out the window, leaving a confused Hob behind.

" I'll ....just... go to sleep then" he said to no one but himself,and he went to bed.

And sleep came to him easily.

#drops writing #drops random ramblings #netflix the sandman #the sandman #dreamling #hob gadling #the sandman dream #the sandman lucienne #the sandman matthew #the sandman death #the sandman lucifer #the sandman jessamy #the sandman fanfic #the sandman corinthian #dream #morpheus #the sandman hob #dream the endless #graveside chrysanthemums

27 notes · View notes

em-writes-stuff · 7 months

Text

flufftober + whumptober day 10

prompts: love of my life + stranded

890 words

warnings: cursing, toxic relationship, implied past abuse

characters: isadora harper, silas, chrysanthemum, and imogen gable

part one

Scratch pulls her hand away from Silas and bends over, its hands on her knees. “I just…” she pants. “Need a minute to…catch my breath.”

Silas nods and takes a few breaths himself, “We have to keep moving. It’s dangerous out.”

She rolls her eyes and lifts its head to look at him, “Maybe I’d be more willing to run if I knew what was going on.”

She looks at him expectantly and frowns when he ignores her. “We have to go. I can explain once we’re somewhere safe.”

“Yeah,” it says, shaking its head. “I’m not going anywhere with a guy I just met. I can figure something out.”

Silas sighs and looks around anxiously, “Fine,” he says, digging in his pockets. “I have a note from Kaya. He asked me to take care of you? So, please, let me? Because he’s one person I don’t want to piss off.”

He hands her the letter and she reads over it. “Alright.” she says, handing it back. “But one wrong move…”

Its hands move defensively to its dagger and Silas raises his hands, “Got it. Hands to myself.”

She nods and motions for him to lead the way. He tucks the letter back in his pocket and starts running again, barely looking behind himself to check that Scratch was following.

She trips over crumbling cobblestone and barely avoids running into people to keep up with him, huffing and puffing the entire way. He ducks behind a curtain and she nearly suffocates getting past it. He’s standing on the other side, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You alright?” he jokes.

It glares at him, “Shut the fuck up.”

His eyes widen and his smile changes to one more genuine. “We’re safe now.” he gestures to the small room with an extravagant flourish of his arms. “Welcome to my home.”

Scratch looks around, unimpressed. “You live here?”

She glances over the tattered blankets tacked up against what it assumes are windows and frowns. The walls are covered in mold and the whole room smells rotten. Its nose wrinkles and she smiles. “How long are you letting me stay?”

Please don’t be a long time, please don’t be a long time, please don’t be a long time.

“Oh, just until you find somewhere else to stay. Don’t worry, I won’t kick you out. Kaya told me to take care of you.”

“Told us to take care of her,” Someone says, pushing past the curtain, and standing in the doorway. “Hi,” they say, reaching out their hand for her to shake. “I’m Chrys.”

Silas’ face falls, but he quickly recovers his smile. “How’d you find us?” he asks, shifting his weight on his feet. “I spent days looking for somewhere you couldn’t find.”

Chrys frowns and makes a disappointed sound. “I followed you. You’re not as good at hiding as I am.”

“Neither of you are good,” another voice says. She comes out of a shadow and waves coyly. “Hi, Imogen.”

Scratch blinks a few times before waving back, “Nice to meet you all. Siblings?”

Silas clears his throat, “Triplets.”

“Fun.”

“If you say so.”

It chuckles and looks at Chrys. “You look like you’re in charge. Do I have to do anything to keep my place?”

“No,” Silas says before Chrys can answer. “Nope, just…chill until you find your footing.”

Chrys glares at him and nods, “We have a little…friendly competition every other night. You’ll have to compete every other time.”

Silas stares at Chrys and shakes his head, face begging them not to follow through on the promise. Chrys’ face sets and they grab his arm.

“I need a moment with my brother,” They say, tucking behind the curtain.”

Scratch puffs out her cheeks and turns to Imogen. “So,” she says, “Two brothers?”

“Two brothers,” she responds.

“I hope you don’t mind. I know a new person is gonna be awkward.” Scratch says, itching her arm.

Imogen scoffs, “You’re not staying at our house. You’ll be staying with the other fighters. Silas likes to make his own rules. It’s safer if you stay there anyway. Less likely to be chased away.”

On the other side of the curtain, Silas yelps and holds a hand to his cheek. Chrys lowers their hand and takes a deep breath.

“We need to do this to get even with Kaya. Don’t you get it?” they spit.

Silas looks up at him, “I just don’t know why we have to start her there right away. She’s just been stranded here.”

“Unless you want to start fighting again…”

“No,” he interrupts. He runs a hand over the scar on his stomach and shakes his head. “No. Just, give her a day?”

“Did you get a day?”

They don’t wait for an answer and walk back through the curtain, catching the last of Scratch’s sentence.

“-need to get back to the ship for Beau.”

She snaps her head around and her mouth turns into a small lipped smile. “Everything alright?”

“Perfect,” they say. “Who’s Beau?”

It closes its eyes and smiles softly, “My best friend. Pretty much the only reason I’m considering going back to Kaya and definitely the only reason I’m still alive.”

Chrys hums and nods, “He sounds lovely.”

They walk up to her and put his hands on her shoulders, “Ready for your fight tonight?”

#flufftober2023 #flufftober #whumptober #whumptober2023 #love of my life #no. 10 #oh seas #imogen gable #silas gable #chrysanthemum gable #isadora harper #em writes #em writes stuff #my writing #whump

3 notes · View notes