#Gardenverse

[sweetygirl90]

"Lleva años sin regresar. Me pregunto quién es la bruja que lo invocó. Debe ser la bruja floricultora más tolerante de este mundo si aceptó ser su butonia."

Este es un regalito para Cami de Vermillion en 'Jardín de lotos' :DD

[merryfortune]

Weed Eater

Written for the FE Flash Fic Friday on Dreamwidth

Prompt: MLM Ships

Title: Weed Eater

Ship: Dedue/Dimitri

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Word Count: 1,432

Rating: T

Tags: Alternate Universe - Gardenverse, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Blue Lions Route

   There was a type of folk considered fey amongst the people of Duscur. Not spoken of often because it was so unusual, even they considered the talk of the Flower Eaters to be but a poorly remembered myth. This, too, was a legacy that Dedue embodied, too, for better or for worse. It was considered as unlucky as it was beautiful.

   He still remembered the confusion and the elation, when he was a young child. Still small and innocent and naive to the ways of the world and he expressed his love with how any child would: with wild flowers freshly picked.

   “Mama, Mama, look what I can do!” he had cried out, happy and joyous with a big smile on his face. He was what? Four?

   The look of fondness on his Mother’s face turned in an instant as Dedue showed her what was in his hands and it was not a trick of light. As he uncurled his fingers, the flowers that he unveiled were not from the garden but from him.

   “Dedue, my love, you must never show this talent of yours to anyone, understand?” his Mother warned him as she accepted the little, yellow flowers Dedue had produced from his palm. “And you must always avoid anyone who would want to eat them.”

   That was even unluckier. To be a Flower Eater. That was a curse far greater and heavier than the one which Dedue had upon him as a Flower Grower - or Florist, as he would come to hear amongst the mainland of Fódland. Turns out they were in tune with different bits and pieces of Duscur lore, filtered through inaccuracies. A long, long tale which had changed every time it had been spoken between two people. 

   Much like a school rumour, actually. 

   Deduce did his best, at the Officers Academy, to be as detached as possible but people talked. Even to him. Though he did his best to not talk back. 

   He minded his own business. He kept to himself, to the greenhouse, and no one was none the wiser to Dedue’s status as a Florist. People knew he had a green thumb but no one suspected that there was something more to his talent and gift with plants was nothing more than the innate knack that certain gardeners had.

   No one except Dimitri and Dedue had his own suspicions about what exactly Dimitri was.

   More than a friend, a house leader, a lord or a prince. There was a great darkness inside of him as well but Dimitri did his best to obscure it underneath a well-controlled and amiable persona. This extended far and wide to being close and personal.

   However, Dedue didn’t want to talk about Duscur traditions or lore with Dimitri. Though, sometimes Dimitri would pry about innocuous things. Food, fashion, geography. The most surface level things so he could try and be close with him but Dedue was ever a brick wall. 

   Though a watchful one.

   Maybe he was channelling his Mother, her spirit and her memory, too much but he saw the signs. Dimitri was exactly the type of person she used to warn him about. The Flower Eater. No Fódland name for it, as far as Dedue had heard, anyway.

   They were characterised as the tragics, the obsessives, the ones who were always hungry for… something. Be it flesh or… be it flowers. 

   Dimitri was exactly that person and a little quip that he let slip confirmed it in Dedue’s mind. To anyone else it would have been funny but Dimitri wanted to eat the weeds. They had been assigned to gardening related tasks, like pulling weeds, by Professor Byleth to help. 

   And it only worsened from there, Dedue would observe from Dimitri’s side.

   He was a very different person. 

   To everyone bar Dedue.

   He had always sensed that one day Dimitri would snap. That he was hungry in a way that civil society could not provide as it went beyond a need for food but for vengeance. For blood and flesh and… flowers.

   After everything that had happened. Edelgard’s assault on the Academy. His separation from Dimitri and the allies that he had amongst his Blue Lion classmates, Dedue shuddered with recollection. There was still much to be done, such as restoring the Holy Kingdom, clearing the name of the Duscur people, and more. 

   “I’m … I’m happy to know you are still alive, Dedue,” Dimitri grovelled to him. “And that you are real.”

   “Yes, I’m real.” Dedue replied.

   He let Dimitri touch him. To confirm his warmth, his heartbeat, his breath. 

   Though much of Dimitri’s sanity appeared to have returned to him as he got catharsis from facing Edelgard or returning to tutelage in Professor Byleth’s stead, and yes, of course, Dedue’s return to his side as vassal. There was still more to be regained, if it could at all, and an underlying fragility despite Dimitri’s present calm and serenity.

   There was still more that Dedue could do for Dimitri.

   He waited until an appropriate time. He had never disclosed this to anyone. His family had known but no one else knew. So, Dedue waited for a calm, blue night when the moon was big and full and the purest white. He invited Dimitri for a late night walk to the gardens. Just them and their companionship. Nothing more, nothing less. 

   Standing by the gazebo with his hands behind his back, gazing out over the lawn, “Can I tell you a secret?” Dedue asked.

   He was finally ready to open up. He watched as Dimitri visibly perked up and for a moment, Dedue saw a flash of Dimitri’s seventeen year old self in the world weary and one-eyed face that he now bore. It made Dedue’s heart falter but he steeled himself.

   If he was correct, if Dimitri was a Flower Eater like he thought, then his Mother’s wisdom was too far gone on him. Dedue had doomed himself the minute he pledged allegiance to Dimitri in gratitude for saving him. 

   “Please, go ahead.” Dimitri told him.

   “I want you to know this.” Dedue said.

   As he had grown older, it had become less easy to hide his condition. As a child, it was a painless magic trick, like a sleight of hand, to produce these flowers from his body but as he went through adolescence, that was part of his body which changed. He had to shave them off like he would the whiskers on his chin, sometimes it would even hurt when these pretty, dainty little yellow flowers would bloom. 

   Dimitri watched, mutedly amazed, as Dedue showed him this legacy of Duscur, too. 

   They lived in a world, amongst people, who conjure lightning and fire, control the winds, and yet this simple little thing elicited such oddness and mystery. It was strange. 

   Dimitri caressed the petal of the flower, he followed the natural arc of it with his finger. It was soft, he noted. All whilst Dedue told him bits and pieces from his Mother’s fairy tales. How his siblings used to be jealous of him because he had a gift that they did not and that was unfair. 

   Dimitri listened intently.

   “I had no idea that such people existed.” Dimitri said, quietly awed. “I must be quite fortunate to have you by my side then.”

   “Yes, about that…” Dedue murmured.

   He plucked the flower and his fingers reacted as though he had given himself a paper cut. There was a thin line of red on his palm, like a scratch, and an involuntary twitch amongst his fingers. He offered it to Dimitri but when Dimitri tried to accept it with his hands, Dedue glared. He kept going. He offered to feed it to Dimitri and Dimitri, confused, did open his mouth.

   Dimitri chewed thoughtfully. Dedue had never once wondered what the flowers he produced would taste like. He had never seriously thought that he would encounter a counterpart to his own condition but Dimitri’s expression.

   “I like the taste of it.” Dimitri whispered. His lips quivered, like he was holding back an involuntary smile. Colour, ever so slightly, was added to his cheeks, too, that he could not interfere with. 

   Dedue blinked. He was actually taken aback to hear that considering… Dimitri was not known to be an auteur of taste or otherwise a gourmand. But it did flatter him to hear so. Even if it did affirm in Dedue’s mind that Dimitri was as every bit as tragic and obsessive and hungry as Dedue was promised when he was warned of as a child. 

[teamxcherik]

Hello! I'm sorry if this is a dumb question, but do you mind elaborating a bit on the meaning of the topics for each day of Cherik Week? I'm not sure what Gardenverse means ;w;

Hello, first of all: there is no dumb questions, dear. It's alright. Every person is a different world and sometimes we can't explain ourselves in the correct way for others, this is why asking questions and communication is key.

For Gardenverse, I highly recommend this guide. If you need it in Spanish, here.

Sentiel AU (Sentinel & Guide) also has a guide.

'Gokushufudo' theme, it's "The Way of the Househusband", a Netflix show. Every episode is around 20 minutes and it has like 3 short stories squeezed in.

If you or anyone else has another question, feel free to ask. We will be more than happy to answer. Hope you are having an excellent day!

[vahntares]

Gardenverse | Angst | WangXian

Lan Wangji did not have a bad intention. In the beginning he thought that his union with Wei Wuxian was a mistake, that the two of them could not move forward the way they were. His feelings was one-sided.

The war and resentful energy would gradually lead them to hurt each other if their union was loveless. Wei Wuxian deserved better than that.

Or those were the ideas the Lan elders had put into his head.

"Let's break our boutonniere," he said. At that time no one was chasing Wei Wuxian anymore, he would be fine on his own.

Their boutonniere. That union that bound them together in harmony as Florist and Flower Eater.

Wei Wuxian's heart squeezed so hard he felt a thorn dig into his fists. However even his eyes didn't seem to moisten. No. Wei Wuxian was strong and it had been clear from the beginning that their union was for politic, to keep him on the sidelines.

Now that the war was over there was no reason to bother the honorable HanGuang-Jun any longer.

"S-sure" he replied, pain wilting the petals of his hair, but still maintaining a smile.What had he done wrong? Everything, surely. He was not worthy of love.

On the other hand, Lan Wangji did not think his love was truly reciprocated, he was confident that Wei Wuxian's smile was sincere and he would recover.

Wei Wuxian had a strong heart that would not be swayed by a love that Lan Wangji did not want.

And also, Wei Wuxian often hid his emotions very well.

Lan Wangji's day to day life was being as empty as usual after the departure of her beloved. He had hoped that Wei Wuxian would love him, but he decided to leave at the first opportunity.

Until he heard through the streets:

"Good news, Wei Wuxian is dead!"

Lan Wangji searched and searched everywhere, until he came to a lone plum tree, at the tip of the burial mounds, whose blossoms were identical to those of his beloved.

He did not have to look far into the trunk of the tree. There, before the larger branches began, was the Wen seal.

Lan Wangji could not imagine the reason why his beloved could end up in such a way.

He investigated. After their breakup, the Lan elders had made sure that Wei Wuxian left without a single piece of silver, he was thrown out of Gusu like a dog into the street.

Besides they had told him that Lan Wangji could never feel anything for a monster like him.

The words had affected Wei Wuxian so much that he ended up entering the state of vegetation. The flowers inside him took over his body and he ended up sleeping eternally like a beautiful tree.

Lan Wangji, blinded by the pain of having caused that, secluded himself in the burial mounds and attained immortality. He knew of stories in which the flower growers recovered from that state, he had faith that Wei Wuxian would return to his arms.

So, every day and every night, he sat by his side, played guqin for him and talked to him.

Every day.

Every night.

Until the end of time.

People prayed that one day the two lovers would have a chance again.

No one knew if their prayers were heard.

"Aiya! Lan Zhan, that's a very sad story!"

Wei Ying wrapped her arms around her fiancé's arm.

Xie Lian smiled softly "It's a story our ancestors tell young couples who are going to perform a boutonniere, this union is not a game!"

Wei Ying denied effusively "Lan Zhan would never harm me! Right?"

Lan Zhan pulled him even closer, as far as the laws of physics would allow "Mn. Wei Ying deserves to be loved." The story had also made him uncomfortable.

"Owww Lan Zhan!"

Xie Lian smiled. That's what he expected.

-The End-

[dracomalfoy-pma]

GARDENCEMBER (English)

We’ve organized Gardencember, a challenge for this December that will consist of using some of the Gardenverse concepts in fanfics, original stories, SMAUs or any other form of artistic written expression. This challenge will involve 20 concepts organized in such a way that you can create one continuous story or 20 separate stories, even with 20 different pairings.

In addition, this time we’ll give an explanation for each prompt, which can give you a better idea of the concept. We warn you: these are not absolute truths, you can always reinterpret the concepts, as we don’t want to limit your imagination. We’d like you to propose and develop your own ideas.

You will find the details in:

Gardencember (Collection)

[moibakadesu]

𝑅𝑒𝒹 𝒞𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶 ~ 𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝒶 𝒻𝓁𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉

[companionwolf]

It's 2:25 am. I've woken up from another...half bad half weird dream. The sense of being on a precipice hangs on me. There is still something I want you to see, said the voice many times. I think I am sick of seeing. Of learning.

I wander into the kitchen, out onto the porch, and there is Jordie sitting on the swing. He's got a candy cigarette between his teeth and a thermos of coffee between his knees.

I silently sit at his feet, tail curled around my paws. After a moment, there's the feeling of a deliberately gentle hand ruffling my fur.

"Can't sleep?" he asks.

"Bad dreams," I say.

Jordie hums-- he understands the most out of the Trunk Buddies, even more than Roger. "Losing SAN? WP?" he asks, and it's not teasing or lighthearted like it would be from anyone else.

"Hoenstly I think so at this point."

Jordie pets me again before he withdraws his hand and shifts the candy cigarette out of his mouth so he can take a nip of his coffee. "I'm sorry."

"They keep asking why I'm doing this," I say to him, staring blearily at the night sky over the garden. Somewhere in the distance, my own heart beats blue.

"So why are you?"

"That's the thing-- it's not my choice. It happens whether I want it or not. And I don't want it. I don't want it, Jordie. I don't want to know or figure or realize."

"...You can't keep whatever it is unknown forever, Wolf. Isn't healthy."

"Rich, coming from you."

Jordie's turn to sigh. "Touche," he says.

Another sip from his thermos, and then after a moment, he adds quietly, "I think if it keeps happening like this, it might be time to confront it when awake."

"But it's not safe, Jordie."

"Never said it had to be the trauma."

I turn my head to look at him. He's got this somber expression on his face.

"Wolf," he says, "I think you know already why the dreams keep happening. It's like it was before."

I whine, a pathetic noise in my throat.

Jordie pets me again, frowning out at the horizon as he does. "That's the best answer I've got for you," he says finally.

"...I know," I answer. "I know because your voice is my voice and in the end--"

"We're just echoes," Jordie finishes.

"...I'm so tired, Jordie."

"I know, Wolf. I know."

[physicaltale]

Hola! hace tiempo no publico algo de countryhumans aquí (y aunque esté dibujo era para la portada de un fanfic Gardenverse que perdí →⁠_⁠→...en fin estaba inconcluso.) Pos al final es mejor publicar aquí el dibujo de Fem!Colombia.

Solo para que aprecien su lindo cabello. (publico las dos opciones, porque no sabia si quería colocarla con o sin las flores para el entonces esa portada xD.)

[lucy-glow]

Hace ya un tiempo que hice esto jajaj

Digamos que fue un pequeño aporte a lo que fue el #Gardenverse y que mejor que un Yiling Laozu todo empoderado y divino ✨️❤️

[kabybaali]

Made another NingXian draw with gardenverse theme. Wen Ning full of flowers fills my heart with love uwu

[lavenus6]

Mi primer fic Wesley x Puppycat / outlaw

[sweetygirl90]

Dibujos de Lothelios, Maddione y VermiAnn que hice en el día del orgullo, sí-

[merryfortune]

cassula ovata

Written for the 100ships Challenge on Dreamwidth

Prompt: #73 Jade

Title: cassula ovata

Ship: Wisteriashipping | Spectre/Yusaku

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Word Count: 3,598

Rating: M

Tags: Alternate Universe - Gardenverse, Past/Referenced Ai/Yusaku, Canonical Character Death, Body Horror, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Mutually Unrequited Pining, Enemies to Friends with Benefits, Coercive Relationships, Fade to Black, Sexual Content, Loss of Virginity, Swearing, implied/Referenced Self Harm, Bittersweet Ending, Dubious Consent (?)

   It would be inconvenient if Yusaku’s condition spiralled out of control here, he decided. 

   So, very effortlessly, as he held onto his chest and how hard it ached, he needed to prevent that. He needed to be practical. Rational. He needed to be strong, for Ai. Yusaku very stringently reminded himself as he got up from where he had been kneeling.

   Mourning.

   As Yusaku moved, the clatter and clink of the machinery hitting the concrete floor echoed in his head and he had to remind himself. They weren’t real. They weren’t truly Ai and even if they were. He wasn’t abandoning them, he just needed to… get out of here.

   The sight of the morning was blazing on Yusaku’s eyes. He felt faint leaving the warehouse. Ai had picked a good tomb for himself. It was out of the way, it wasn’t in use, but he hadn’t picked a good greenhouse for Yusaku, however. It wasn’t suitable for what Yusaku needed and right now, as the pastel orange and pinks of dawn shone down upon him, opening him up and making him unfurl, turn to petals… It was problematic, to say the least.

   Fujiki Yusaku… His name denoted his status as a Florist. 

   It wasn’t a case of naming a dog Spot if it had spots nor was it a case of coincidental nomenclature guiding the processes of nature and nurture. It was just how it was. Unlucky, maybe? All he knew was that it was rumoured that Florists tended to have those sorts of names. Fujiki. Sakurako. Hanadera. Tsubomi. Fujiwara. And those who tended to have those sorts of names were Florists, like a snake eating its own tail. The myth started and ended in the same devouring that affected Yusaku.

   A Florist was someone who produced unnatural flowers from their bodies. There was something about their biology that made the fluids they produced - blood, sweat, tears, saliva, phlegm, semen, and so on and so forth - turn to spores and moulds that later flowered akin to more normal plants. They were beautiful, they were delicate but they were harmful to the host.

   (But not harmful to the Eater…)

   With all the crying that Yusaku had done in the last several hours since the end of his duel with Ai… It was no wonder that he was in production. He was flowering. Blooming. Mourning.

   He hobbled all the way home. Yusaku did his best to dodge suspicious eyes. Or worse, wandering eyes. He hated that normal people - and he was loath to use that word - thought his condition was pretty even as it caused him to suffer.

   Yusaku was all too relieved to eventually get home without feeling like he had been viewed, eyes probing him. His flat was a dump but that was on purpose. It had all the usual amenities helpful to someone. A mirror in the bathroom so he could stare and study himself whilst he shaved to get rid of these extraneous, plant limbs. It had central heating so he could just blast burn them as well, if he really wanted. It was even a little chilly this early in the morning on the precipice of winter so that was fine. There was even

   Sure, his flat had cracks in the wall and the pipes loved to burst every now and then. He had to wash his clothes in a laundromat for some coins, a piece which was a waste but home sweet home. Even if it was a hole.

   However, the fact that it was a hole was beneficial to Yusaku too. 

   He could languish and wreck this place of his without causing a disruption. This was governmental housing for Florists, after all. So his condition could just get worse and worse and it wouldn’t matter. It was all the same as a dandelion growing in through the concrete. The same couldn’t be said of private property, like where Ai had staged their final duel.

   All Yusaku wanted was to get home and get some peace. Fix himself and then fix the greater situation he was in. Get Ai back and do all that. Tear up the whole internet if he had to find the scraps of his Ignis once again but the world had other plants.

   If there was one thing he hated more than normal people and how they literally viewed Florists, it was Flower Eaters.

   Yusaku prickled as he saw Spectre. 

   The implicit threat was imminent. The Knights of Hanoi knew where he lived. Qutie possibly for some time given how Spectre was waiting for him. It was true they were former enemies as of right now but it wasn’t information that Yusaku had given Ryoken face-to-face so he wasn’t fond of the implications. He also wasn’t fond of the implication of seeing Spectre specifically over Ryoken, or, well, he supposed it could be worse, it could be one of the Lieutenants he was seeing right but still.

   Yusaku didn’t like Spectre. 

   It was always disconcerting to see this particular person but for him to be hovering outside his home, that was even more disconcerting. It made Yusaku’s stomach twist and knot as some sense of self preservation began to flare up inside him. Yusaku couldn’t help but recall his and Spectre’s first introduction to one another, their very first encounter and duel. He was a dirty cheat, a sadomasochist, and plenty more in Yusaku’s books.

   So yeah. He really didn’t like Spectre.

   Spectre, who used his face in and outside of the Link VRAINS, despite his criminal activities. It puzzled Yusaku… up until he got bored one day, did some research, unsealed some sealed records and learned some very interesting things about this enemy of his. Like how he had died ten years ago. Twice, actually. His real name and his status as a Flower Eater.

   He looked too casual, leaning up against the side of the building that Yusaku’s apartment belonged to. It was almost as if he belonged there, somehow. Despite the smartness of his bespoke, tailored suit clashing with the broken brick and mortar of the building but abandoned matched abandoned, Yusaku supposed.

   Regardless, he was incredibly not happy to see his former foe and two-time ally standing here. Without Revolver to keep them playing nice or Ai diffusing the tension with humour, Yusaku really did not want to deal with Spectre right and it showed.

   Honestly, Spectre shouldn’t have been in any condition to have left the den of inequity that he and the other Knights nested in. Ai had really done a number on him and his comrades of the Lieutenant status and yet, here he was. Hale and healthy. He had never looked spiffier, somehow. Relaxed even though he wasn’t known to be in public. The same of which could not be said of Yusaku.

   His whole body was stiff. He glared Spectre down and yet, even though Yusaku was clearly on his hackles as his gaze met Spectre’s, Spectre greeted him politely. Too politely. With a smile from ear to ear, he licked his lips and he was practically slobbering.

   “What the fuck are you doing here?” Yusaku growled as he held himself.

   He’d been awake all night. He really just wanted to crash and… cut himself. Later. Once he knew he wouldn’t miss and cut the skin, rather than the stems and stamens and stigmas that were unfurling off him. Some of them kinky and curling from out of his tear ducts or growing from the dried patches on his cheeks. Others were chunky and smooth, growing in the shape of carved jade, fattening themselves on the tears that Yusaku had cried.

   “Master Ryoken was worried about you so he sent me in his place given our… compatible dispositions. He’s playing matchmaker, I’d rather if he didn’t but… orders are orders.” Spectre explained with a shrug.

   He was a good liar and that was always a stab to Yusaku’s gut. He didn’t trust a word that Spectre breathed. Not when his eyes were so bright and again. He was practically slobbering. 

   It was as unmistakable as it was unspoken. They both knew what the other was. 

   “I… I don’t appreciate the nannying. I can handle myself.” Yusaku said and just on cue, another tendril sprouted from the side of Yusaku’s face.

   This time, its roots were on the inside of Yusaku’s mouth, fixed to the side of the inner of his cheek. It was green and white, unfurling like a fish hook from around the side of Yusaku’s lips, it was wispy and newborn and it looked a tasty little morsel to Spectre.

   “Oh, poor diddums,” Spectre patronised him, just to get under his skin even worse than the roots of the latest bloom, “the little Florist thinks he can handle himself. Look at you, Yusaku. You’re a whole terrarium right now. Master Ryoken was very right to worry about you.”

   “Shut the fuck up.” Yusaku snapped, his grit his teeth.

   “Allow me to take care of you, please.” Spectre purred. 

   “No.” Yusaku insisted.

   “Your skill at butonia could use some polishing, Fujiki.” Spectre chastised him. “The correct answer,” his voice turned sharp, serious, it sent a shiver down Yusaku’s spine, “is yes.”

   Not that it mattered. Yes or no. Spectre reached out and he caressed one such blossom that Yusaku had produced in his state of grief. He plucked it and Yusaku gasped. A touch erotic. He was weak in the knees and he needed to be pruned back.

   The sneer in Yusaku’s eyes was remarkable. It turned Spectre on, truth be told, as he sustained that hateful gaze himself as he took very little time to consume the blossom that he had stolen off Yusaku’s body. 

   “Did that feel better, hm?” Spectre mocked Yusaku. “Your glowy little friend could never help you like I could. Though, nor could Master Ryoken… Do you even know another Eater you could enter Boutonniere with? I doubt you do and I’m not asking for that. I am asking to be your lapel but in a strictly business way.”

   “Like friends with benefits?” Yusaku distilled all the flowery prose from Spectre’s negotiation to its barest minimum.

   “We don’t even have to be friends, if you don’t want.” Spectre said.

   Yusaku didn’t want to say that Ai had seen some hope in their… connection. He was too pissed off with them both to say anything but his head just getting foggier and foggier. He was all sweaty, holding back tremors in his hands. The more flowers and vines and stems and leaves and all that grew from him was left unchecked, the weaker he got.

   “Fine.” Yusaku spat.

   “Good boy.” Spectre praised him but it felt like poison.

   Reluctantly, Yusaku let Spectre inside his flat.

   Neither were pleased about this. Yusaku was not pleased with having Spectre in his private quarters. Spectre was not pleased with the condition of them. He had been expecting something a little bit more… well, not as rundown and ramshackle but the contents did match the cover, he supposed.

   And there was nothing wrong with Yusaku’s bed, at the very least. It was small but it's not like the linen atop it were ridden with bed bugs so it sufficed just fine for their purposes.

   Yusaku was too exhausted by the way the parasitic plants grew off him and ate of him to not let Spectre have his way with him. He was surprisingly a gentleman. If more than a little ravenous. It was true that Yusaku didn’t know any other Flower Eaters aside from Spectre but what of him? Did he know any Florists aside from Yusaku? From the way he ate, Yusaku had his doubts. 

   (It would certainly explain yet more of his eccentricities.)

   Yusaku faded in and out of consciousness as Spectre pruned him, cut him back, and ate from him. It was probably easier this way because all Yusaku could feel was the loathing of it. He hated this body of his. He really, truly did. The way his world shattered during the Incident and picking up the pieces of it was made even more difficult as he had to contend with this exhibition of non-human physiology. 

   These plants that plagued Yusaku, were wisteria-esque. Because of course they were with a name like his, he was doomed to be pretty in purple. The patches that weren’t purple were sparse, varying hues and shades of green. Some mossy, some forestry, and then some detergent liquid green just like his eyes. 

   Some of the leaves were kinky and curling, wisping over his body, tickling him, reminding him that they were there and they were more important than anything else about him. Others weighed down upon his face or body, tinged red at the edge of their thickness which was circular and smooth. All of it a reminder that he couldn’t escape them because they were as much a part of him as his motor neurons or his grey matter.

   With these plants that bobbed and bounced with every movement, even ones so slight as closing his eyes, Yusaku didn’t feel like a person. He felt like the rotting meat that these accursed plants that grew from his body fed from.

   And now, he was the vessel in which Spectre, a foe of his, fed from too. He looked so high and mighty as he mounted Yusaku, leering over him and taking him. The sight of him. The smell of him. The taste of him. And even the inexperience of him.

   “Have you ever been Watered before? I won’t be offended if you say yes, though I may just be amazed.” Spectre teased him as he loomed over Yusaku from on top of him. He gave a thrust of his hips, just to further fluster Yusaku.

   Yusaku glared, embarrassed. Spectre laughed mockingly at him.

   “I get the honours then, I take it?” Spectre rhetorically asked. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

   That’s really not what Yusaku was worried about but he’d take the sentiment. He closed his eyes again and just let Spectre do as he pleased with his body. Whether it was put his lips on him or put his fingertips on him, whether it was to nibble gently of Yusaku’s skin or just yank out the flowers himself.

   All with the sweet, disturbing nothings of how delicious Yusaku was. How pliant his body was. Yusaku simpered underneath Spectre’s weight, allowing himself to be limp and feint. He was too tired for this. He was too scared for this, even. There was so much more in the world for him that hung in the balance and yet, Yusaku just let it happen to him.

   Sometimes, when Yusaku really tuned out the motions that Spectre enacted on his body, he could pretend that it was-

   Only to be jostled by reality but that only happened once. Twice. Maybe thrice. By the time it was done, it was done. Though, it was when Spectre had decided he was finished, that they were well and truly done. He ceased his motions, he slowed down and Yusaku suspiciously feigned being awake.

   He did, admittedly, feel better. Just a tiny bit. It felt good to not be covered in itchy flower petals and their pricky, thorny stems. So now, Yusaku was, debatably, a person again. All thanks to Spectre. A person covered in bruises and hickeys but Yusaku found that preferable to petals and moulds. Though he could really do without the pillow talk. 

   “Thank you for the meal.” Spectre purred as he laid down beside Yusaku, batting his eyelashes, as though begging for a cuddle.

   “Shut up.” Yusaku growled.

   “Ugh, you're more temperamental than I am.” Spectre complained.

   Yusaku wanted to bite back at that statement. He was not temperamental. Just focused and he simply did not have Spectre in his line of focus despite having just shared a tryst with him. It was only to be mutually beneficial. Spectre had to eat, Yusaku had to not die from being plant food good and proper. It was as simple as that.

   Though, not for Spectre it wasn’t.

   His eyes were wide and curious. Yusaku hated how emotive Spectre’s face was, how it moulded to his every whim and emotion, and how his eyes shone so evocatively. Or provocatively, more accurately.

   “So.” Spectre said with a big breath. “Did you always know?” 

   “Know what?” Yusaku barked back, frowning.

   “That you were a Florist?” Spectre clarified.

   “No. Not until after the Incident. I guess I had a Floral Jam but as soon as I - we… I guess - got to the hospital, I started freaking out because I started growing flowers. Anyone would freak out, probably.” Yusaku divulged slowly.

   “I suppose that’s true.” Spectre sighed. “I always knew I was an Eater.”

   “That makes sense.” Yusaku mumbled.

    “But I am a little envious. I wouldn’t mind being a Florist. Don’t get me wrong, I love being an Eater but…” Spectre turned his head. Up until this point, they’d all but made it an explicit point to not look directly at each other. “I imagine that you wish you weren’t encumbered by these conditions at all.”

   “Correct.” Yusaku mumbled.

   “A philosophical chat for another day, perhaps, then?” Spectre asked.

   Yusaku turned his head but he didn’t say a word. He just stared. Exhausted, utterly unimpressed. He looked so very jaded by the topic that Spectre had brought up. Spectre sighed this time.

   “Rest up. Good night to you.” Spectre said.

   “Okay then. Good… night.” Yusaku mumbled.

   That wasn’t something Yusaku thought he would ever bade Spectre. It tasted funny in his mouth. He turned over and Spectre did the same. The temperature of the room was comfortable but they were still sharing Yusaku’s sheets between them, with the caveat that Yusaku had been touched enough by Spectre and didn’t want anything more. The malcontent that emanated off him was uneasy for them both but Spectre knew his presence in this place wasn’t entirely welcome so that didn’t help.

   Yet, somehow, they did fall asleep next to one another. Sharing a bed, but not any further intimacy or warmth. Not on purpose, anyway. Yusaku slept hard, ragged, but at least he slept. It may as well have been another night for Spectre and so, he slept dreamlessly for a couple hours.

   In what they deemed the morning but was actually the afternoon, it was like they were strangers. Less than lovers, more than friends. They continued on from the pillow talk from earlier where they didn’t face each other, they just laid side by side. But they did acknowledge one another, though not with the usual greetings as they didn’t really apply to how the mid-afternoon sunshine eeked on through Yusaku’s curtained windows. 

   “I’m going to bring Ai back, I hope you know.” Yusaku stated.

   “I had a feeling.” Spectre replied.

   “Will that bother you or your master?” Yusaku asked.

   “I think we should be expecting it.” Spectre sighed.

   “I was never here then, I hope you understand. That’s what I want you to tell Ryoken.” Yusaku said.

   “And that I failed to assist you?” Spectre sounded incredulous. “I don’t mean to be rude but I think Master Ryoken would notice I’ve been satiated.” 

   “Yes, well, I have plans to get away for a bit. I wouldn’t want him to worry further if he’s going to inflict you on me because of it.” Yusaku complained.

   Spectre was quiet, “So does that mean you have plans to bring back Earth?”

   “Does it sweeten the pot for you?” Yusaku asked in turn.

   “Perhaps.” Spectre tried to sound enigmatic but the desperation in his voice… It was palpable. Innocently eager, even, despite an attempt to disguise it.

   “Of course. All the Ignis. But Ai first.” Yusaku replied.

   “I see. Well, do as you please. If lying to Master Ryoken aides you well, I suppose that’s just a note I need to make regarding your watering regime.” Spectre snickered but he sounded quite pleased to know that there may just be a shred of hope for the return of Earth.

   That, in turn, heartened Yusaku. Perhaps this relationship could be beneficial to him. Maybe Ai was right. Spectre was, indeed, one of his connections that he had made. 

   But, lying in bed, that wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He wanted to get up but Yusaku’s movements were ineffectual. It looked like denial or depression but really, it was Spectre’s warmth keeping him there. He was fresh cut. Pruned. Watered. He’d never been Watered before and the heavens knew that he’d never been gentle with himself keeping himself cut.

   Yusaku sighed, a sharp intonation of discontent. Spectre winced, curling in on himself and away from Yusaku, making the sheets stretch and tighten as they refused to touch each other. Yusaku needed to be going and he needed to hope that in the next few months, he would find himself a Floral Jam, like when he’d been a kid during the Incident, and ergo not in need of Spectre’s services as a Flower Eater. 

   The silence between himself and Spectre grew uncomfortable after the conversation but they didn’t need to say more. Spectre understood and so, he got out of Yusaku's bed, collected up his own clothes, and made like his namesake. He vanished, not even saying goodbye. The sound of the door closing on the way out made Yusaku flinch. He balled his hands into fists as his heart grew heavy.

   Only time would tell to see how the flowers would grow.

[teamxcherik]

We understand completely how it feels to join an old, small fandom that is almost completely dead and to realize we joined a little bit too late. For the new and old fans alike, and because Cherik is so much fun, Cherik Week is back!

Anyone can participate! All languages are welcome too!

Content that will be accepted:

 Drabbles

 Ficlets

 Poems

 Fanfiction

 Art

 Edits

 Photonovels

 Fanvids

 Playlists

Cosplay

Comics

Content that will NOT be accepted:

Any content made with the help of an AI or made by it.

If you want to join and participate in this event, please do so because you love the ship. If you feel you have no skill, this is the perfect time to start with something. We will welcome your creations, doesn't matter how new you are in that skill. We want creations that make us feel something, that means something to us.

How to participate:

When posting your contribution to the event on tumblr, add the tag “CherikWeek2023″ so we can track it and reblog your post!

Be sure to post/share your themed content on the day of the week it corresponds to on the provided schedule.

You can also add your work to our AO3 collection.

Dates:

June 5th - 11th

Day 1: Gangster/Mafia | Dystopian

Day 2: Gokushufudo | Sentinel & Guide

Day 3: Gardenverse | Victorian Era

Day 4: Demisexual Erik | Protective Erik

Day 5: Gladiator | Actors

Day 6: Genosha | Drunk

Day 7: GoT/Medieval | Students

More info:

Someone had a question about the themes of this week. You can read here the answer.

For more general information, click here. If you have any questions feel free to send us a message through tumblr! 

Hope to see your contribution to the ship during our special week!

[ao3feedzukka-blog]

Ambrosía

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43367415 by Shizizzuo 花蜜 | En dónde Zuko descubrirá cómo recuperar sus flores.   AVATAR THE LAST AIRBENDER ZukoxSokka Words: 1243, Chapters: 1/?, Language: Español Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Sokka (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang (Avatar), Azula (Avatar), Ozai (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar), Aang (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Toph Beifong Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar) Additional Tags: Past Child Abuse, Gardencember2022, DracoMalfoyPMA, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Not Beta Read, Ozai Being an Asshole (Avatar), Bad Parent Ozai (Avatar), The Gaang Learns How Zuko Got The Scar (Avatar), Iroh is Zuko's Parent (Avatar), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Minor Aang/Katara (Avatar), Age Swap: Sokka tiene 16, Protective Sokka (Avatar), Gardenverse - Freeform, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Zuko Joins The Gaang Early (Avatar) December 01, 2022 at 07:52PM

[dracomalfoy-pma]

GARDENCEMBER (Spanish)

Para el mes de diciembre organizamos un Gardencember, reto que consiste en hacer uso de algunos conceptos del Gardenverse y plasmarlos en la creación de fanfics, historias originales, SMAUs o cualquier otro tipo de expresión artística escrita. El reto cuenta con 20 conceptos organizados de una manera en que ustedes puedan hacer una sola historia con continuidad, aunque no está limitado a esto, si desean hacer 20 diferentes historias con 20 parejas distintas, está permitido. Además, en esta ocasión, daremos especificaciones generales de los prompts con la intención de que tengan un mejor panorama del significado de cada concepto, aunque advertimos que no es la verdad absoluta y si desean darle una reinterpretación propia es muy válido, esto debido a que podríamos limitar la imaginación para la creación de sus historias, queremos que ustedes hagan propias las propuestas para desarrollarlas según sus ideas.

Por favor, accedan a la colección donde obtendrán más detalles:

Gardencember (Collection)