#New-story-home

[a-ladyman-in-waiting]

A Lady in Waiting (1)

[A story in the works]

I don’t know about you, but I think that some, if not all of us, want to be someone else. 

Especially in the realm of fantasy, where anyone could be as powerful as they could be.

But in this case, we just got to know the fellow before their transformation.

Otherwise, she’ll have no context.

Or us in that sense.

A Lady in Waiting

Chapter 1

“What a day.”

“I really want to buy something to eat”

“But I already ate, so why do I feel like buying snacks?”

“I traveled through whole crowds to get a limited edition Bakugan. That was the whole reason why I came here all this way for nothin, was to buy a special toy.”

The complainer over here is Brendon Rivera.

A college student, aged 22.

He often complained about stuff that happened to him.

Like the time he dropped a card onto a puddle of water.

[NOOOOO]

Or the time that he has to help out at work despite having no classes over the weekend.

[maaaaaaannnnnn]

Or the time that two buses passed by him.

[you absolute {beep-beep}, pieces of {beep}, {beep-beep}, I swear to lord I will {beep} {beep} {beeeeeep}.]

I’ll give him a pass for that. The bus system is a total mess.

Anyways, Brendon is walking around town moping about losing a toy that he didn’t need.

Until…he noticed a sign.

“Huh. That wasn’t there before.”

He takes a moment to read the sign.

Garage sale today. From 4/7 to 4/12.

Over on Gallon Road.

“Huh. A garage sale. Wonder if they have anything.”

This is where it began…ok maybe not.

It took Brendon five minutes to get there, mainly because he took his time walking.

But when he reached Gallon Road, he noticed a bunch of boxes, a couch, a few TVs, tables with several shirts, old big toys, shiny objects and oddly shaped objects.

“Huh.”

When he got closer, he saw a collection of toy cars, remote control cars, gold chain necklaces, even more shirts of different colors.

He also found lamps, vases, plates, a dark green couch with a patch of worn out red, a brown coat rack behind a pile of boxes and paintings.

“Oh dang.”

Then one object in particular caught his attention.

Two necklaces.

A pearl necklace fit for a lady.

And a necklace with a strange looking design, holding an egg-shaped white gem surrounded by six red gems.

Brendon found himself drawn to the large pearl.

He was bending over to get a closer look.

He developed an urge to buy them.

So he looked up and said,

“How much for these two?”

An elderly woman came over and told him,

“$120.34”

“Oh.”

[I mean…I was going to blow $250 on a limited edition Bakugan…]

“Ok”

[Welp, at least mom might like the pearl necklace.]

Brendon handed over 6 $20 bills, a quarter, and a dime, where he received a penny in return.

[I still have some money left over…but I better save it]

“Thanks!” Said Brendon.

“No problem!” The elderly woman chimed.

Brendon walked away with two pretty necklaces. An action that would change his life forever.

Now it begins.

It was a relatively uneventful evening at home.

After Brendon showed his mother the two necklaces, she was awestruck by the fancy necklaces and thanked him for the pearl necklace. Brendon put away his necklace to try on later because he has a lot that he should be doing.

Brendon helped with his sister’s homeworks (reluctantly I might add).

The family ate their dinner, took showers, and generally went to bed. However, Brendon decided to stay up a bit longer to check up on his necklace.

“Ok, let’s take a closer look.”

He picked up his necklace and studied it.

“Hmmm…oh dang…the white egg pearl is pretty big.”

“Like almost bigger than my thumb…”

“The shape of the gold looks like a fire fighter sign. There are 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 rubies.”

“They’re also egg shaped.”

“It’s pretty heavy for a necklace, so I probably shouldn’t run with this.”

Brendon put on the necklace and looked into the mirror.

“Hmmmm….”

“Mmm…”

“I guess it’s nice.”

“…mmmm”

“I uh…”

“Umm”

Brendon doesn’t have any idea of what he bought.

Seriously, he has no fashion sense.

“I’ll keep it on for now. I might have an idea later on”

“Such as a plan for pumpkin spice latte.”

“Like how much pumpkin sauce should you use to keep it sweet but not too sweet.”

“There’s a coffee shop down the road, but it’s pretty expensive. But they do have croissants and pan dulce.”

“Man I could go for some pan dulce, maybe I can get some when I come back or such.”

“But I really don’t want to bump into Renaldo.”

“He’s rude.”

“Like the time that he sprayed me with water and I then slipped and fell from trying to catch him.”

“Or the time that he bumped me while I was dribbling the ball. Making me fall down.”

“Or the time that he put gum in my hair and I got in trouble for punching him.”

“Just unfair.”

That was years ago, Brendon.

“Like I’m just still mad over this.”

“Like I just don’t like him.”

“I hate him, honestly.”

“I hate his little goofy face.”

“I hate how he gets attention from everyone.”

“I hate how he gets away with shit.”

“I just don’t. Want. To. See. Him.”

He covers his mouth. And looks around.

“Oh shoot. I must’ve been pretty loud.”

“Sorry guys.”

He walks into the kitchen and looks at himself in the mirror.

“I honestly don’t like how I look like. I mean I’m messy. I stink. I’m generally the face of gross things…I wish I looked pretty. Like a dragon lady, with sexy clothes, a long tail, beautiful wings, and a voice that everyone goes ’Mama Mia’…”

Brendon snickers to himself.

“hehehe”

Then he takes a deep breath.

“Besides, I’m always the “quiet one.” Like I have stuff I want to say as well. Like for example, I like leotards….shit no…anything except for what I draw.”

“Never mind, I’ll probably just never mention that at all.”

“I sound like a pervert.”

“Ignore the part about the dragon lady stuff…”

Brendon sighs.

Then he went to the kitchen to clean the table to make space to draw his character.

He set the sketchbook down, opened up to a blank page and picked up his pencil.

He then put on his headphones to listen to his playlist of random songs that he liked.

“Ok, time to draw Madeline.”

Brendon proceeded to draw his character.

He drew the figure (body), he drew an overall leotard shape, he marked where the gloves and thigh highs would end, then he hurriedly drew a tail with fins.

Brendon stopped for a moment…

He started thinking…

Then he made quick shapes for wings, then sketched the fingers, the horns, the hair…

Along the way, he made a few mistakes.

Then he erased them.

Then he drew them again, made a mistake and erased.

This was how he usually draws…

He sketches the long skirt. Gotta have cover, I suppose.

He sketches the top part…

A…boob window…and a choker…

Oh boy.

The gloves…they’re baggy around the shoulders and tight around the wrist…

And he gave her a…rose…on the waist…

And…oh my…he’s drawing a vine pattern around the skirt…

how…complicated…

Anyways, Brendon’s eyes began to grow heavy. He stood up from his seat and began to yawn and stretch.

His piece remains as a sketch…

Smudges, furry lines, an overly simple face on top of a detailed body.

A front facing figure, hands that may not remain the same, multiple fabric folds.

Need I go on?

“Alright, that’s enough…” Brendon muttered.

He packed up his sketchbook.

Packed it into his backpack.

Brushed his teeth and tongue.

He hates the taste.

Then he went to bed.

OK…Now it begins.

[ruporas]

trigunned the hades or hadesed the trigun (id in alt)

[bluerosefox]

Always Favors You

Another Sibling Danny and Jason idea!!

"Are you Jason Peter Todd?!" demanded a deep and commanding tone from the strange glowing being in front of them.

All the Bats stiffened and tensed, no doubt gearing up for a fight against the being that somehow knew Red Hood's full name.

Jason, Red Hood, decided to put on a brave front despite no doubt cursing in his head and wondering how the heck did this thing know his full freaking name.

"Whose asking." he snarled out, his hands twitching for his gun when the huge glowing knight with purple flames coming out of his helmet and cape, who was riding on a nightmare looking horse while they all had been in the cave going over tonight's patrol.

The Knight didn't seemed bothered by his response nor did he even seem to care or flinch when Batman made his own demand on 'Why was he there and who was he' or when Damian unsheathed his sword and pointed it towards him. Instead the strange glowing Knight reached to it side and pulled out... A glowing scroll? Huh. (Also he completely unnerved everyone in the room when the Knight didn't even react when Batman had tossed a Baterang when he reached for his side)

The Knight opened the scroll and spoke clearly with purpose.

"Jason Peter Todd,

You are hereby invited as a special guest of honor to the crowning of our future King of the Infinite Realms.

Daniel Phantom, once Daniel Jackson Fenton, and once Daniel Austen Todd.

Prince of the Infinite Realms, the Keeper of Balance, The Peacekeeping Halfa, the Defeater of the Tyrant King Pariah Dark, The Great One, Youngest of the Ancients, Ancient of Space, The Bridge between Life and Death.

You, the half-brother of our King, have been given the highest of honors for your past actions and will be given housing and food in the Realms and Phantom's Keep, for the week long event. Personal servants and attendants will be at your disposable and a seamstress will be on hand to tailor make your attire for the Coronation.

Signed: Clockwork. Ancient of Time. Watcher of the Infinite Timeline. Kronos. Mentor and Adviser.

PS: I shall have Fright Knight ("Me" the Knight bluntly said for a second) leave this scroll along with a personal one for you from Daniel to read over and once you make up your mind sign the bottom of the scroll.

I do hope in time you will pick the right choice Jason Todd, we of the Infinite Realms would like to reward you for your actions. After all, if you hadn't gotten young Daniel away from your father that night all those years ago, we would never had gained our Prince nor be free from our once Tyrant King.

Ah, one more thing.

The Infinite Realms will always favor you Jason."

Jason felt like he couldn't breath as Fright Knight? Rolled up the scroll, pulled a letter from his side, and held out the two items for him to take.

[haliaiii]

reading up on argenti’s lore

[mayanhandballcourt]

Photographer Douglas Flores

[geniepuppet]

Made some edits because of the SUPER EXCITING week we're having!

[speckled-biscut]

help the puppets got me again

[doctorsiren]

[marlynnofmany]

Not A Pest

I kept a hand on the pallet of boxes on the hoversled, making sure it didn't wobble while Blip and Blop pushed it up the ramp. It was all held in place solidly enough by high-tech netting much fancier than the kind we used, and I didn't need to worry much. So when we reached the cargo bay and Zhee called for my assistance back on the ground, I didn't feel bad about leaving the Frillians to finish loading it. They were strong enough to muscle anything into place if needed anyway. 

“What's up?” I asked as I trotted back down the ramp.

“Thought you might weigh in on their pest problem before we go,” Zhee said with a twitch of his antennae towards the clients whose stuff we were delivering. More Frillians today: not as beefy as Blip and Blop, but with waving frills everywhere that just made Zhee look like a praying mantis among flowers. He also looked smug, but that was nothing new. “I mentioned an animal expert, and they mentioned payment,” he told me.

I came to a stop beside him. “You know I don't know everything, right? Just putting that out there. My vet training was on Earth.” 

“Yes yes, I gave them the disclaimers,” Zhee said. 

The client in front, a tall female with colors like a Siamese Fighting Fish, said, “That’s better than anyone on our ship has. Something's getting into boxes in our cargo hold, and we can't find it. Tore into some food and made a mess of the animal fibers.” 

The shorter male behind her in salmon-peach tones held out a lumpy handful of what looked like brown wool. "My guess is it's making a nest somewhere, but it's being wasteful with the stuff too. Tangled it up something fierce."

My response died on my lips as I got a good look at it. Among the stray fibers was the exact shape of a teddy bear. 

“Can I see that?” I asked. 

He handed it over. I plucked off the extra bits and yes, it was definitely meant to be a teddy bear, made by hand from the wool in the cargo hold. There were even little twists for eyes.

I looked up at them. “You don’t have a pest. You have a stowaway.”

They blustered and pooh-poohed the idea: nonsense, how could there possibly be an intelligent creature onboard without their knowledge?

“We’ve been in space a long time,” said the tall one. “Only stopping at uninhabited locations for resources.”

“And at the—” put in the pink one, then stopped at a sharp look from his teammate.

I wasn’t about to let that go. “The what?” I asked.

The tall one sighed. “We salvaged some fuel from a wreck,” she admitted. “But there was no one on it. We checked. And with the tow ship we saw in the distance, it seemed likely enough that the owner had jetted away in a life preserver rather than sticking around. It was a single-person ship.”

Somebody else piped up from between the many crates in their cargo hold. “It couldn’t be a person! There’s nowhere big enough to hide!”

I held up the teddy bear. “This is a child’s toy from my planet.” I looked up at the maze of pipes on the ceiling. “And my people like to climb.”

Zhee was being smug behind me while I made a quick circuit of the room, looking for likely spots. One corner was particularly dark, and it had a series of crates below the pipes, stacked into a perfect ramp. I flashed back to the time a litter of kittens had found a similar hidey-hole on my own ship. This spaceship was made by a different group of aliens altogether, but they never seemed to expect anyone to pay attention to nooks and crannies in the ceiling.

“Hello?” I called, climbing onto the first crate with the wool bear in hand. “Anybody up there?” I continued in every language I knew greetings in, which included the galaxy’s favorite trade language (which I knew well), several minor trade languages (which I did not), and a smattering of languages from Earth (which I knew not at all), plus English. Despite my efforts, I didn’t hear a thing until I got all the way to the top.

“Jambo?” I tried, peering into the dark crevice. “Uh, sprechen sie deutsch?” I held out the wool bear. “Is this yours?”

A quiet gasp echoed off the pipes, then two small arms reached out to grab the bear. With further coaxing, the girl clambered forward to where I could see her: dark skin, wide eyes, artfully braided hair, and clothes that looked fancy, if very dusty. I’m not great at kid ages, but she was young. Old enough to push buttons on her parents’ spaceship maybe, not old enough to steer.

I still didn’t know what language she spoke, but it was hard to go wrong with body language. I held out my arms for a hug. “Want to go home?”

She sniffled and climbed forward into the embrace, clinging tight. That made it a bit of a challenge to get back down to floor level, but I managed. A crowd of Frillians and one smug Mesmer waited there.

“See?” Zhee said to the tall Frillian. “Exactly the animal expert you needed.”

I shook my head in amusement. “For all the wrong reasons, you’re exactly right.” The girl didn’t want to be put down, so I hoisted her onto one hip and stood carefully. “How far away was that crash site? Can you send a message to the planet or station the tow ship came from?”

“Yeah, we’re on it,” the tall Frillian said, her frills flattened in what might have been shame. She directed a couple of the others to do that, and also to gather the fuel they’d scavenged.

Zhee cheered her up with talk of a probable finder’s fee. “Humans get very attached to their offspring,” he said. “There is a strong chance this one’s parents are already advertising a reward.”

While they talked money (and Zhee got our ship that promised fee for pest control), someone with sense arrived with a bottle of water and questions about what food would be suitable.

The girl drank the water eagerly, not letting go of her bear, and didn’t answer any of my questions about food allergies. She accepted some protein cubes and chewed them with determination.

By then, a reply had already come from the nearest space station, and a ship was on the way. Full of authority figures and very anxious parents, by the sounds of it.

While the Frillians discussed that and the little kid quietly refused to be put down, Zhee held up his communicator so I could talk to Captain Sunlight back on our ship. Zhee had already explained the situation.

The captain asked me, “How long do they expect until arrival?”

“I think they said about half an hour,” I said. “Hopefully that won’t put us behind schedule.”

“No, we’ll be fine,” she said. “Given that the young one is so taken with you, we might as well stay to make sure everything gets resolved. Does she need to visit the medical bay?”

“I don’t think so. She hasn’t said anything yet, but she doesn’t look injured. Couldn’t hurt to give her a once-over with the hand scanner just in case. We’ve got time.” I looked down at her thoughtfully, then had a bright idea. “And I bet she’d love to meet Telly. After we check her for allergies, of course.”

The captain agreed that was a fine idea. Zhee took over the conversation while I asked the girl, in a mix of Earth languages and pantomime, if she wanted to see my cat.

Her eyes lit up and she started talking in a spill of words that I didn’t catch in the slightest. Spanish, maybe French? Portuguese? Ah, it didn’t matter. The language of kitty ears and “meow meow” is almost as universally recognized as hugs. We walked from one ship to another, and waited for her parents in the company of a medical scanner, human food, and a very friendly cat.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Byrd: Dad? Oscar: Morning, bud.. miserable day, huh? I’m not looking forward to packing up in the rain. Oscar: Did you sleep okay? Byrd: Erm… Oscar: GO GET YOUR HEARING AIDS! [Byrd fidgeted guilty, implying that he’d lost yet another pair] Byrd: [sobs] Why do I have to be deaf without them, papa-.. s’not fair. [Oscar held Byrd tightly, stroking his back until his sobs subsided somewhat] Oscar: LET’S SEE WHAT WE CAN DO… [Oscar plonked Byrd outside as he rummaged through his bags, eventually producing a backup pair of hearing aids] Oscar: Better? [Byrd nodded gratefully, burying his snotty nose in his father’s hair as he threw his arms around him] Oscar: Maybe you ought to think twice about learning SSL. Byrd: What’s the point? No one else knows it. Oscar: Robin does, and we all know bits n’ pieces, don’t we? [Byrd grumbled disinterestedly] Oscar: I think it’s long overdue, pal-.. what if we all learn it together? Properly this time. Byrd: I guess… Oscar: All I heard was yes. Byrd: Are you deaf too? Oscar: [snorts] C’mon, we’ll probably find the other pairs as we clear up. Wren: Daaaaad, it’s raining! Oscar: The faster we get goin’, the faster we’ll be in the car-.. I bet Wren can pack up faster than you. Byrd: [gasps] NO WAY! [rain pattering]

[chez-cinnamon]

Getting back round to AU art!!! Frank and Julie tend to take liberties with Fionn's furniture when they're playing Julie's games!!

Also Cassidy got some lore rehauls :0

((The girl Carmen belongs to @/arcadeish on twitter!!!))

[meatlessmcmuffin]

stop thinking so hard about it dude ur gnna get a headache

[ghost-bxrd]

Me, reading the idea that Jason thinks he accidentally kills Dick in the dragon au: WAIT no-

Me, imagining Dick surviving somehow - on a wing and a prayer, and him clawing his way back to Gotham with Nightwing because there's no way he's letting this be the last time he sees his family and brother: wait.

Me, imagining that instead of going home, Dick just drags himself to wherever Jason's kingdom is, confronting him there and seeing just how badly Jason spiraled after thinking he killed his older brother: okay this may be onto something here.

Omg!!! Bonus points if Dick only gets so far in his journey because well meaning commoner recognizes the crown prince and realizes that “shit, if the new tyrant/king/whatever went crazy because of this dude, maybe getting him back will do the reverse thing? And stop him feeding people to Red?”

[ch1zzie]

Joolets (and others)

No more (WHY IS ARTING NOT ARTING)

[maybe-boys-do-love]

Ride (Chotun Puttipong) is just an anonymous delivery driver. His helmet, his headlessness, even his name all alienate him from any personal identity. He is simply the labor he provides and nothing more. When Tarnsai (Jennie Panhan) cares enough to appreciate his work (that he would drive late in the rain when others weren't willing) and offer him a cup of coffee (a gesture that has more personal meaning rather than just the money he's earned) he removes his helmet to reveal a face, a real human being, that Tarnsai can form a connection with.

People often misunderstand Marxism as anti-labor, when it's chief concern is actually the dehumanization of the people who are laboring. Peaceful Property is so profoundly interested in remembering the human lives of forgotten laborers. They had struggles and loved ones and dreams and faces. They dreamed of better lives, of homes they could go to when all the work was done. But it's not just the ghosts. Look at how the team had to investigate through pages of renters' names to find Tarnsai because the landlord had no relationship to the tenets. Marxist alienation is about the loneliness everyone can feel when we're limited to these empty commodified relationships.

[s0fter-sin]

ghost stares at the ceiling, chest heaving in a harsh pant; sweat ice on his clammy flesh and soaked into the sheet he restlessly kicks away.

ears still ringing, his fingertips blindly drift down to trail along his vivisection scar. he half-expects blood to smear in their wake. his own line of solomon, who ordered him split in twain; half of him given to a grieving mother and half left with the grieving to be.

just for both his broken halves to be rejected.

what did it make him that his mother grieved him more than she loved him? that she begged to be relieved of him more adamantly than she begged to receive him? why did his worth spill out with his drawn blood? why was his pain lesser than hers?

his hand flexes, digging into the raised scar like it’ll part beneath his fingertips to plunge into his mangled insides. no one knows the cruelty of reforming the halved; his name, his being, not nearly as important as his body when he was stripped from himself. no one knows the pain of healing and understanding losing pieces of yourself means losing your value along with them.

how many more pieces did he have to lose before he was halved once more? before his very presence incurred grief so strong it was better to be rid of him than cradle his bloodied remains?

did the infant fight himself? did he age always at odds with himself; his halves never truly whole? he hopes he wasn’t, that he was spared the loss of self; the fear that one may be welcomed over the other.

who will he lose when the inevitable comes? when he’s ripped apart again? simon? or ghost? is it better to be cursed with choice just like his mother or live with an aftermath chosen for him? does it matter if in the end, he convinces himself there was nothing of him left to lose?

his head lolls to the side and the wild buck of his chest slows. he watches johnny beside him, his face lax with the rare peace of sleep; his cheek squished against the pillow, his lips pursed as long breaths escape him.

johnny. soap. never torn asunder but two all the same.

he carefully reaches out and ghosts his fingers along the jagged scar on his chin. even in sleep, he presses into his bloodied touch. he’s never fled his half-flesh, never shies away from his gore as it spills unbidden from his cleaved torso. he holds on where his mother let him go; cups his stomach to hold his insides in place and never minds the blood that drips through his fingers.

simon will never let him become his own solomon and cannibalise himself. he will never let him question which half of him has more value; which pieces he can afford to lose before he’s cast aside.

ghost’s soap. simon’s johnny. his.

whole, in any incarnation.