#and green for future purposes...

[ravenclair]

In the Shadow of You | Hogwarts Legacy

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Chapter 15: Deception

(Word count: 2,410)

You were stunned into momentary silence.

Of course, you had told yourself not to jump to conclusions. But the pieces all made sense. He even admitted to owning the wand at some point. How could he not be the Legilimens?

If he was telling the truth then…then you were almost right back to where you started.

You should’ve known. It was too easy.

You lowered your wand, your face still contorted in anger. You snatched the journal entry up and turned to leave.

“A word of caution, my friend,” Mykew called to you. You stopped in your tracks, but didn’t turn. “Trust no one, where the Hallows are concerned. They only bring danger and deception.”

The Deathly Hallows will only attract danger…isn’t that what Niamh had said to you as well?

Without another word, you exited the shop. You were thankful for the chilly afternoon air. It relieved the heat of frustration that was now coursing through your veins.

You began to make your way towards Filibuster’s, preoccupied by your thoughts, when you felt a hand clamp over your mouth. A strong arm wrapped around your middle and the world shifted as you were Apparated away.

Frantic, you fought and flailed. Your locket had flared to life immediately, its metal hot against your skin. You focused on it, on the magic imbued within, and trusted it to protect you.

Suddenly, your surroundings returned, and you just happened to make out the words Knockturn Alley scrawled on a piece of wood nailed to the cobblestone wall. Your attacker let out a hiss of pain before releasing you. You threw an elbow backward, miraculously coming in contact with what you assumed was a nose—as it made a satisfying crunch—and took off.

Once out of the darkness, your head was on a swivel, trying to make sense of your surroundings. You were back on the main part of Diagon Alley and a swaying sign above you read The Leaky Cauldron. Wherever they were trying to Apparate away to, they hadn’t managed to get very far.

Heavy footsteps were closing in behind you. Without looking back, you threw yourself into the thick crowd still making their way through the streets.

How long has it been? I need to find Garreth, we need to get out of here!

You pushed and shoved your way through the crowd with the terrible feeling of déjà vu. Just last week, at the previous quidditch match, were you in a similar situation. Only this time, you were the one being chased.

The pain throbbing in your temples confirmed exactly who was pursuing you.

You cut between two shops and came out in Carkitt Market once again. Relief flooded you when you saw Garreth exiting Filibuster’s, a concerned look on his face as he observed his surroundings. He was looking for you.

You knew then you’d been gone far too long.

“Garreth!” You shouted, not caring about the strange looks you were beginning to attract. His head turned quickly in your direction, and he began running to meet you.

“There you are! I was worried when you didn’t show up, I waited—what’s wrong?”

You were panting and sweaty and completely shaken, probably appearing quite distressed to your friend.

“We have to get out of here—now!”

Without objection, he grabbed your hand as he pulled something from his pocket. It was the other item he had taken from the mantel before you left Professor Weasley’s bedchambers.

The instant his fingers came into contact with it, you felt yourself being pulled away. The alley around you distorted and blurred, and you were vaguely aware of Garreth’s tight grip on your hand.

You felt yourself hit the ground on your back with a thud.

Groaning, you sat up and found yourself in the grassy clearing of the Bell Tower Courtyard. Cheers from the quidditch pitch echoed in the distance.

Garreth, who was already standing, pulled you to your feet.

“Sorry for the lack of warning, I forget how aggressive portkey travel can be.”

So that’s what he had taken. You saw now that it was a silver compact mirror, an elegant design with a cursive M.W. script engraved on the lid. He rewrapped the portkey in its cloth and tucked it safely into his pocket.

“No worries, I’m just glad we made it back in one piece.”

Just then, you heard Lucan declare the match’s outcome. “Sebastian Sallow captures the Golden Snitch! Slytherin wins!”

“And just in time for the finale!” Garreth exclaimed excitedly.

At once, a dozen or so fireworks began to erupt around the pitch. Garreth’s distraction.

Despite what had happened back in London, you felt yourself grinning at the colorful sparks now decorating the evening sky. “You’ve truly outdone yourself this time, Garreth.”

“Why, thank you,” he replied, bending at the waist in a mock bow. “Come on, then, let’s get this portkey back before my aunt realizes it’s gone.”

⋆｡°✩

Luckily, Garreth didn’t ask too many questions about what happened in Diagon Alley. You didn’t offer an explanation, either.

Whether it was because he respected your privacy or made his own conclusions, you were thankful. But you did owe him something for all the risks he’d taken in getting you there and back.

When you said as much, he just shook his head. “If anything, I owe you for all those favors last year. And, you know, for saving the school. Besides, it’s what friends are for, right?”

The only question he did ask about your trip was, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

You had only given him a vague, “Sort of.”

Once back in your common room, you sent Sebastian an owl letting him know of your safe return and congratulating him on his victory. Then, you decided to take a nice, long bath in the Ravenclaw lavatories.

Only then did you allow yourself to contemplate what had happened. How poorly a turn things could’ve taken if you’d been kidnapped.

Merlin, you were almost kidnapped.

What was the Legilimens doing in London, anyway? Was it pure coincidence, or had he somehow managed to find out where you were going? You hadn’t had any attacks from his Legilimency in days…had he learned to sneak into your mind without notice?

These thoughts plagued you, bringing on a headache. You sank your head beneath the steaming water and tried to wash the worries away.

As you were preparing yourself for dinner, Samantha burst into your dorm room full of excitement.

“You’ll never guess–oh, glad to see you’re out of bed and feeling better–you’ll never guess what just happened!”

You smiled at her delighted expression. “If I’ll never guess, you’d better just tell me.”

“Andrew just asked me to be his date for the ball!” She squealed, clutching your shoulders. Your mouth fell open in shock.

“We were walking back from the quidditch match–remember, I told you he invited me to sit with him and a few of our other housemates–and he just blurted it out,” Samantha continued, giving you a slight shake. “Oh, he was blushing furiously!”

“I thought you wanted to go with Emrys?”

She released you to cross her arms and huff. “That bloke has half the school practically throwing themselves at him, and he refuses to accept any of their invitations! He seems quite full of himself, if you ask me.”

“Well, Andrew is a very amiable wizard,” you replied. “I’m sure he’ll be the perfect date.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Samantha smirked. “We’re going to Hogsmeade first thing tomorrow morning. We need to look spectacular next weekend. That Sallow is simply waiting for the perfect moment to ask you, I’m sure of it.”

To that, you had no response.

Shortly after, the two of you began to make your way to the Great Hall for dinner. Samantha was rambling about what colors best suited your complexion when you both stopped abruptly.

Emrys has stepped into your path.

“A moment of your time, if you’d be so kind, Savior.”

You and Samantha gave each other a quick sideways glance before she hesitantly let go of your arm. You didn’t fail to notice the disapproving once-over she gave to Emrys before she hmphed and kept walking.

“Alright, let’s hear it, then,” you sighed sarcastically. “What do you need this time?”

He smiled. “You wound me! Do I have to want something to enjoy the pleasure of your company? Can’t one friend simply check in with another?”

“Oh, so we’re friends?”

“Aren’t we?” He shrugged a shoulder. “I appreciate your discretion regarding my…escapade last night.”

You nodded, still uneasy about your encounter in the Restricted Section. You wanted to know more about his invisibility cloak and was about to ask just that when he went on.

“Anyways, I’m sure you’re as excited for the upcoming ball as everyone else seems to be. Already picked out a dress, no doubt.”

You glanced past him at the passing students making their way to the Great Hall. Some blatantly eyed the two of you as they walked by, whispering to each other and exchanging weighted looks.

“Not yet, but Samantha seems to have that all planned out for me.”

Emrys laughed and kept talking. You had gotten distracted by a trio of Slytherins drawing closer and missed the last of his words. As if he could feel your gaze, Sebastian’s eyes cut to yours, narrowing slightly once he realized who you were speaking with.

“Sorry, what was that?” You said, returning your attention to Emrys.

“I asked if you’d like to attend the ball…with me. As my date.”

Shocked was an understatement. You couldn’t hide the confusion on your face at his request, even if you tried.

“Not quite the reaction I was hoping for,” Emrys chuckled, seemingly nervous.

You cleared your throat in an attempt to regain your composure. What in the world is happening? “Oh, I’m sorry, I just–”

“She’s already going with someone else,” a third voice said sternly. Sebastian now stood beside you, arms crossed.

Standing a few paces away, Anne had her hand clamped over her mouth to hide her smile, refusing to look in your direction. Ominis was just shaking his head, annoyed. A few other nosy onlookers lingered in the reception hall to watch the scene unfold.

Emrys, to his credit, just smiled and held up his hands in playful surrender. “I wasn’t aware…my mistake, then.”

With a quick nod to you, the Gryffindor went on his way.

Once he was out of earshot, you whipped your head to Sebastian. Your cheeks had grown hot, mortified by the entire exchange.

“Sebastian! What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing?” You whispered angrily, trying to keep your voice down.

“Saving you! Oh, don’t tell me you were going to say yes–” Sebastian replied in the same manner, a hint of disgust in his tone.

“What if I was?” you cut him off. “Emrys is decent enough, we’re friends–”

“Well, I don’t trust him–”

“And no one else has asked me!”

He went silent at that. You realized your insinuation and cursed yourself.

“So, maybe I wasn’t going to accept his offer,” you quickly continued, “but you certainly had no right to make that decision for me.”

Before he could say anything more, you fled from the conversation and its unfortunate spectators.

⋆｡°✩

“I’ve chosen these to start with, arranged from simple stunner to jaw-droppingly gorgeous!”

Samantha had a pile of dresses arranged on the low couch in front of the dressing screen. The two of you were in Gladrags Wizardwear, perusing the newest arrivals. Augustus Hill had a shipment of the most popular evening gowns of the time period delivered to his shop as soon as he caught wind of the Hallows�� Eve Ball.

You marveled at the silky fabrics and beaded bodices, each one beautiful in its own way. Mr. Hill had assured you that every dress was uniquely made, so no witch would have to worry about wearing the same gown as another.

However, with only one week left to go, the stock was quickly dwindling. You touched a ruffle and sighed.

You hadn’t spoken to Sebastian since yesterday evening. You knew he had been trying to catch your eye in the Great Hall at dinner, but you had pointedly ignored him. He had not only embarrassed you, but he also didn’t seem the slightest bit remorseful about it!

And he still hadn’t asked you to the ball. Perhaps that’s what frustrated you the most.

“I think you should try the gold one first,” you said to Samantha. It was styled from a shiny golden fabric, the hem beaded and shimmering like galleons.

“Alright, and I think the purple one first for you,” Samantha replied.

You scrunched your nose at the poofy sleeves and outrageously ruffled backside of the dress she gestured to. It was definitely your least favorite of the selections, but you’d humor her. This routine went on for a while as you both tried on all kinds of colors and styles. The purple one looked hideous, of course. Samantha had laughed and said you reminded her of a fwooper.

She eventually decided on a light blue dress decorated with white lace and ribbons, pairing it with white satin gloves that went up to her elbows.

“At least try to look like you’re enjoying yourself,” Samantha teased.

You stared into the mirror as you tried on your seventh dress, a crease between your tense brows. You relaxed them immediately.

“I am! I’m sorry, I just…”

Samantha gave you a sympathetic look. “How about the green, then? I saved the best for last!”

She had seen you staring longingly at the emerald fabric on the hanging wrack and had refused to try it on for herself. You’d subconsciously been avoiding it because it reminded you a bit too much of Slytherin green.

You grabbed the dress and disappeared behind the screen to put it on.

It really was beautiful.

It was short sleeved with a wide neck, exposing your décolletage. The neckline was trimmed in black beading, which continued over the middle of the bodice in swirling patterns. The skirts were cut from layers of satin, which swept elegantly across the front of the dress before meeting at the backside. 

Mr. Hill had said this style was all the rage in France as he gave you a pair of black satin gloves, similar to Samantha’s, to finish the look.

Samantha gasped when she saw you. “This is the one! You simply cannot leave without it, I forbid you.”

Looking in the mirror, you felt both excited and uncomfortable seeing yourself in the color. It seemed…too bold.

“Don’t think I forgot about these,” Mr. Hill appeared again. He had an elegant mask in each hand. One white, one black.

When you paired the black mask with the rest of the outfit, you almost didn’t recognize yourself. Which was kind of the point, you guessed.

Samantha came to stand next to you in front of the mirror, an arm wrapped around your shoulders as she gave you a quick squeeze.

“Just as I said…spectacular.” 

[hdra77]

a little wip for some scenery study ft. me and my friend's ocs hoo boy this is going to be a big one to work with ! :D i was this close on leaving them green and leaving that bg sketch as is LMAO ocs featured: (left)delighted jingling (my friend's oc) (right)dystopian arbitrary endless possibilities (mine!)

[wizzle-the-frizzle]

[foxprints]

Still messing around with design concepts for a physical representation of ART in the feed.

Essentially, the more split its focus is (or the more distant) the smaller and less defined its shape and the more it tends "trail data." The more present or focused it is, the larger its presence and the more Shaped it becomes. Next I'll be coming up with a suitable Intimidation Mode™ for it and I may attempt a more realistic version of both it and Murderbot if I'm feeling ambitious....

Thanks to @soundwavereporting and @scificrows for the enabling, brainstorming, and encouragement!! <3

Inspiration from: angelic TrueForms, Studio Ghibli spirits, Glyph and EDI from Mass Effect, Owlbears (so Shaped lol) and Venom (subconsciously apparently lol)

[alienglowgarden]

[Text Transcript: "Big brother, // yesterday I had a dream // that everything changed. // The sky was the color of blood, // and everywhere I looked, // I could not see a single sight // I recognized, // Including this body."]

[crow-quet]

moonpaw redesign just dropped

[husk-not-whiskers]

“I… what?”

[starzshinezz]

haha silly archivist the magnus archives reference LOL!!!! HAHA 😂

[moondancediner]

Love of my Life

summary: the dagger squad meets hangman's best-kept secret

jake seresin x reader

word count: 1490

warnings: no editing, fluff

a/n: this popped into my head the other night... enjoy! also this gif makes me CHOKE ohmylord

song rec: love of my life - harry styles

masterlist

It wasn’t on purpose. Nights when you and Jake ended up at the same bar were never planned, mostly because your friends from work always wanted to go somewhere downtown, and Jake’s friends from work always wanted to go to the Hard Deck so there was never a chance for the two groups to intersect. 

Tonight, however, your friends had enough of hearing about all your nights at the Hard Deck with your fighter pilot husband who drops by work every once and a while with lunch or a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. They decided to venture out to the Hard Deck tonight for your monthly get-together and you weren’t going to miss an opportunity to ogle at your husband from across the bar while he played darts and pool with his Dagger Squad friends who just so happened to be in town visiting. 

And that’s exactly where you found yourself on this lovely Friday night. Your friend walked over to your standing table with another drink for you and you thanked her with a smile. She immediately started diving into some workplace gossip, keeping her voice quiet since so many of your colleagues had managed to make it out tonight. You half-listened to her go on how bad the break room refrigerator smelled the other day but your real focus was on Jake who was playing pool with Phoenix, Fanboy, and Bob. He had Bob on his team and you were surprised to see him actually give the man a chance to play without correcting or coaching him. 

You knew all about the Dagger Squad, when Jake was first sent out here you followed him, even knowing this wouldn’t be a permanent duty station, and he talked about everyone he was competing against non stop. From the moment he came home after training you were getting a full rundown of the days happening (you were sworn to secrecy of the top secret events, of course). You learned quickly who was who, even if you never got the opportunity to meet them. 

After the mission, you were pulling out boxes and getting ready to move what little belongings you brought over to the island when Jake came home and surprised you to your core. He accepted a teaching position here on the North Island and you were staying for the foreseeable future. 

You were shocked but over the moon. Jake would be in one spot for at least a couple years and wouldn’t be off on deployments and missions so often. You could start a family and he could actually be there for all of it. 

“Hello? Anybody home?” A hand waving in front of your face brought you out of memories and a trance you hadn’t realized you were in. You laughed and smiled at your friend, but not before catching the eye of Phoenix, who totally caught you staring at Jake. 

“Sorry, sorry, got a little lost there.” You waved her hand out of your face and took another sip from your drink. 

“I’ll say,” she laughed, “I mean, I get it.” Her eyebrows wagged and you laughed heartily, throwing your head back. She was always complimenting your choice of husband and you had to agree with her, he was fine as hell. 

“Fuck, I think one of his friends just caught me staring,” you said once the laughter died down. 

“Remind me again why he doesn’t tell them about you?” 

“It started off as a joke,” you start, “he wanted to see how long it would take one of them to notice, and now it’s just an ongoing bet we have.” 

“A bet I am about to win, by the way.” Jake suddenly appears behind you and you’re happy to see him until his words sink in.

“You’re not allowed to interfere!” You point at him and he just laughs. 

“No interference, I promise.” He leans on the table you two are standing at and you almost forget about the bet for a second because his green eyes still captivate you even after all this time. 

“Well, what are you doing over here then?”

“See now, that’s where it gets interesting because someone caught you looking at me,” he tips his beer over in the direction of his friends, who scatter like chickens when you turn your head to look at them, “and they bet me $20 that I couldn’t walk over here and get your phone number.” 

“Hmmm, seems like fair play to me.” Your friend interjects, looking contemplatively between you and your cheating husband. 

A noise comes out of your mouth, somewhere between disbelief and betrayal. You only had one month left before the bet was yours and you could claim your prize and now this happens, the perfect opportunity falls right into Jake’s lap. 

“Did none of them notice the giant ring on my finger?” You hold up your wedding rings, which glint even in the dim bar lighting and Jake takes your fingers in his hand, bending them towards himself before placing a kiss on your knuckles. You swoon. It’s impossible not to. “Don’t try to distract me, you’re in trouble.” 

“Come on darlin’,” His hand fell away from yours but moved slyly around your hip, where it curled around the belt loops of your shorts, and just then, while his face was inching towards yours, your wedding song came on. 

“When did this song get added to the jukebox?” 

“I may have put in a special request.” His smile did you in. You met him halfway and when your lips met that familiar kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight. Jake pulled away just to smile at you some more before pressing a few quick kisses to your lips. When he backed away enough, you took the chance to look over his shoulder and see what his friends thought. 

The entire group was standing around, completely gobsmacked at what just occurred and you could only imagine what was running through their minds. 

“After you, Mrs. Seresin,” Jake whispered in your ear. You gave him the best glare you could but he just laughed and grabbed your hand to walk you over to the group of people you already felt like you knew. 

Jake chuckled as you got within ear shot. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet someone,” he pulled you under his arm and you automatically slid your own across his back, “this is my wife.” He said it with genuine pride, a stark contrast to his usual cocky tone everyone was used to. 

“Wife?” Rooster repeated, dumbfounded.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Bradshaw.”

You ignored Jake and introduced yourself to everyone with a quick wave. “It’s nice to finally meet you all.” 

There was a beat of silence while you watched everyone process what was happening, but Phoenix broke it with a laugh. “You’ve been holding out on us, Bagman!” 

“Yeah, what the hell, man!” Rooster seemed downright offended that Jake would keep such a secret from them and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“It’s not all Jake’s fault,” You come to his defense, “we had a bet going, which I just lost.” 

“What bet did you two have?” Bob asked, coming forward to introduce himself to you properly. 

You shook his outstretched hand, smiling. “We wanted to see how long it would take for someone to figure out he was married.”

“You… you don’t wear a wedding ring?” Rooster seemed to be having the hardest time with this revelation and it was cracking you up. 

Jake pulled his dog tags out from under his shirt, proudly turning them around to display his gold wedding band that perfectly matched the one around your finger. They both belonged to his grandparents and he was so proud to give you his grandmother's band on your wedding day. 

Phoenix studied the two of you for a moment, watched the way you started to sway to a song and Jake immediately joined in, watched how his attention always drifted back to you, and how his entire cocky dimenor melted away as soon as you were near. 

“So, what’s the story? How did you manage to bag Hangman?” Natasha asked, leaning her hands on the pool cue in front of her. 

Jake pretended to be offended. “I’m not that wild.” 

You roll your eyes affectionately before diving into the story of how you and Jake met. It was nothing spectacular or anything you would want to make a movie about, but it was a whirlwind romance that ended in the two of you married in the Seresin family’s backyard three summers ago. 

When you finished your story, all smiles for your husband, Rooster raised his beer in a toast. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Seresin.” 

Jake couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to let the team in on his best-kept secret, even if he was gonna pay for her losing the bet later on tonight. 

---

thanks for reading ily

Requests are open 🫶🏻

[dior-luxury]

How'd They Propose To You

PT.1 [trey clover . jack howl . jade leech . jamil viper . epel felmier . silver] PT.2 [cater . ruggie . floyd . kailm . vil . rook . idia . lilia . sebek]

( ✧ ) ────── fluff - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] trey clover . jack howl . jade leech . jamil viper . epel felmier . silver

- [𝐩:𝐬] Emotional Intimacy / Fluff . Marriage Proposal . Mentions of Future (e.g., family, dreams) . Slight Angst (Epel’s insecurities, Silver’s loneliness)

Note: I wrote these with lots of love and character insight — Epel’s countryside roots and yearning to be seen, and Silver’s desire for peace and purpose are central to their proposals. I hope this gives you warm fuzzy feelings 💕 Let me know if you'd like versions with other characters ! ♡( ◡‿◡ )

Trey Clover

It started with a letter.

You found it tucked inside your baking apron one quiet Saturday morning—a soft cream envelope, the Clover family seal pressed neatly in wax. The handwriting was unmistakably Trey’s: neat, deliberate, comforting. Inside was a note asking you to meet him at the Heartslabyul greenhouse at sunset.

The walk there was quiet, peaceful. Spring had arrived in full bloom. The air was sweet with budding roses and the earthy perfume of garden herbs. As you stepped into the greenhouse, the world seemed to pause.

It had been transformed.

Fairy lights twinkled through ivy-draped arches. Rows of potted clovers shimmered with droplets of dew, and glass jars glowed softly with fireflies. At the center stood a small round table, covered with a hand-stitched tablecloth embroidered with the Queen’s roses. A three-tiered cake sat on a stand, iced in white and green, decorated with edible flowers and delicate gold lettering.

You blinked. The letters read:

“Every chapter sweeter than the last.”

And then you heard his voice.

“Hey,” Trey said, stepping from behind a row of flowering bushes, dressed in a crisp button-up and vest, tie slightly loosened, eyes warm. “Hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

You smiled as he approached, his hands gently reaching for yours. He kissed your knuckles like he always did when words weren’t enough.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he said, voice quieter now, the weight of emotion in every word. “Ever since we baked our first cake together. Ever since you fell asleep in the library with flour in your hair and your smile still somehow sweeter than anything I could put in an oven.”

You laughed softly, eyes brimming.

Trey took a deep breath, pulling something from his pocket—a small velvet box, the color of forest leaves.

“I know life isn’t always going to be sugar and frosting,” he said. “There’ll be bitter days, tough bakes, and cracked crusts. But if I’m going to face any of that—burnt edges and all—I want it to be with you.”

He knelt slowly, the glassy floor reflecting the warmth in his eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

Inside the box was a ring shaped like a delicate vine wrapped around a single emerald, shaped like a clover leaf. Handcrafted. No doubt.

You could barely choke out the “yes” through your tears before he was standing again, arms around you, holding you like a man who had finally found home.

Later, you shared the cake. It was a perfect balance of tart raspberry and soft vanilla cream.

Just like Trey. Thoughtful. Grounded. Honest. And head-over-heels in love.

Jack Howl

With Jack, love had been something sacred. Not loud, not overly poetic—but fierce and deeply rooted. He wasn’t a man of flowery words, but everything he did—the way he protected you, respected you, always supported you—spoke volumes.

After finishing school, Jack had become a respected guardian of the Starlight Expanse—a sweeping range of ancient wildlands west of the Savannaclaw territory. He lived in a modest cabin, surrounded by pine trees, riverstones, and silence. And often, you visited, sharing weekends hiking the cliffs, lying under constellations, and sitting by campfires where he’d sneak glances at you like you were something he still couldn’t believe he deserved.

On the anniversary of your relationship, Jack invited you to hike a new path with him—an old trail he'd been restoring himself. It led high up into the mountains, through narrow ridges, blooming wildflowers, and old stone arches carved with symbols of the old tribes.

As dusk fell, you reached a cliff overlooking the vast wildlands. The stars began to prick the sky, and the moon rose—huge, luminous, casting a silver sheen over everything.

Jack turned to you, looking breathtaking in the moonlight. His hair fluttered with the wind, his tail stilling behind him.

“I always thought I was meant to walk alone,” he said, voice deep and honest. “Wolves don’t… usually need packs like others do. I was okay with solitude. But then I met you. And suddenly... it wasn’t enough anymore. Every mountain felt lonelier without you by my side.”

You stepped closer, heart pounding.

“I wanted to bring you here because this is where I made my decision,” he said, kneeling in the grass. From a small leather pouch around his neck, he retrieved a ring—hand-forged from stone and silver, with a single small diamond embedded in its center.

“It’s not fancy. It’s not perfect. But it’s strong. Like my feelings for you. I don’t want a ceremony or attention—I just want you. Always. Will you be my mate, for life?”

Tears slid silently down your cheeks. Jack’s hands were warm as he took yours, and his eyes—usually so intense—were soft, vulnerable.

You knelt with him, pressing your forehead to his. “Yes,” you whispered.

He exhaled, tail flicking once with relief, then pulled you into a tight, protective embrace—one that said “home” more than any place ever had.

And above, the stars bore witness, as the wild and the heart became one.

Jade Leech

With Jade, your relationship was anything but ordinary. From the beginning, he had been a puzzle wrapped in a smile—dangerous in his elegance, but mesmerizing. Over time, behind his teasing words and cryptic looks, you found a man who was curious about love, who had never quite known how tender a connection could feel until you came into his life.

After graduation, Jade returned to the Coral Sea, taking on a diplomatic role that let him travel between land and ocean. He’d often bring you rare mushrooms from distant forests, small ocean treasures, and letters written in his perfect, flowing script—always sealed with wax, always smelling faintly of salt and ink.

One day, he invited you on a private excursion—“an adventure,” he called it, voice light and playful. He guided you to a secluded sea cave he’d discovered, hidden behind a curtain of kelp off the southern coast. The tide was low when you arrived, and as the sunlight filtered through the surface, the cave glimmered like a cathedral carved by the ocean itself. Bioluminescent moss clung to the rocks, glowing faintly blue, and tide pools sparkled with tiny sea creatures.

Jade turned to you, hands behind his back, smiling just slightly.

“You once told me you wanted to see the place where I felt most like myself,” he said. “This is it. This place is both wild and calm… like you make me feel.”

You blinked, overwhelmed by the beauty—and the fact that he’d remembered such a small, passing thing.

He led you deeper into the cave, to a small flat rock that overlooked an underground pool glowing with a soft, enchanted light. There, nestled in a tide-smoothed shell, was a ring: a unique band shaped from coral and white gold, with a pearl set in its center—glimmering with the faintest swirl of blue, like moonlight trapped in water.

Jade took your hand gently, his expression uncharacteristically sincere.

“I’ve watched the tides change, the reefs grow and crumble, the land erode and form again… And still, I’ve never seen anything so constant as the way I feel when I look at you. Curious. Grounded. At peace.”

He dropped to one knee on the glistening cave floor.

“I don’t pretend to be simple, and I cannot promise calm waters every day. But I can promise loyalty, wonder, and a love as deep and eternal as the sea. Will you marry me?”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks as you whispered yes.

He kissed your hand, slipping the ring onto your finger as waves echoed softly in the background. Then he stood, pulling you into a slow, wordless embrace as the ocean whispered around you, forever holding the secret of the moment it witnessed two souls choosing each other.

Jamil Viper

Falling for Jamil was like watching a guarded temple open its doors to you alone.

He was a man who had always lived in someone else’s shadow, who had learned to survive by hiding—his talents, his feelings, his dreams. But with you… he had finally started living for himself. And slowly, impossibly, he had allowed love to bloom—quietly, steadily, like a candle that refused to be extinguished no matter how many times the wind tried.

After years of study and work, Jamil had become a renowned performer and choreographer across the Scalding Sands and beyond. He was known for his breathtaking dance performances, his fire magic, and his unspoken magnetism. But despite the crowds and praise, he always made time for you—stealing away into the desert, where the stars were so thick they felt like they might fall.

One evening, Jamil asked you to accompany him to a rooftop performance in a palace overlooking the oasis. You assumed it was one of his shows, but when you arrived, the space was empty—just open air, flowing curtains, and a circle of candles laid out in a ring of red and gold petals. A lone tabla played softly from somewhere unseen.

“Jamil…?” you asked, bewildered.

He stepped into the candlelit ring wearing his traditional red and black, but tonight, his expression was more vulnerable than you had ever seen. No mask. No tension.

“I choreographed something,” he said softly, reaching for your hand. “Just for you. And me.”

Then, without further word, he began to dance.

It was a solo piece of story and soul—a blend of fire and emotion. His movements told the tale of a boy trapped in chains of duty, eyes always cast down… until a figure of light walked into his life. His steps became bolder, freer, as if each moment with you was releasing him, piece by piece. And at the end, as the final flame circled him, he dropped to one knee, his hand extended to you.

In his palm sat a ring—ornate and beautiful, inlaid with rubies and obsidian, shaped like a coiled serpent guarding a heart.

“I never imagined someone would love all of me,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “Not just the dancer, not just the servant or the schemer. Me. And now that I’ve felt that love… I can’t go back.”

He looked up, his dark eyes glimmering with a fire only you had ever truly seen.

“I want to build a future not in someone else’s shadow… but in our own light. With you. Will you marry me?”

You fell to your knees before him, nodding through your tears. He reached for you, holding you close as music, fire, and moonlight danced around your entwined forms.

The desert winds whispered over the rooftop, carrying the beginning of your shared forever across the sands.

Epel Felmier

It was springtime in Harveston, and the apple trees were in full bloom.

The countryside stretched out in a watercolor of soft pink petals, dew-frosted green grass, and gentle sunshine. You had come with Epel to visit his family for the season — partly for the festival, partly for a bit of a break from the whirlwind of NRC. Epel had insisted on showing you his "secret spot," a place hidden at the edge of his family’s orchard where the trees grew in wild, enchanted arches.

He led you there barefoot, the grass cool underfoot, laughing at the way your fingers intertwined. He looked so at peace here — freckles glowing, violet eyes warm like dusk skies, his country drawl a soft hum as he told you stories about when he used to climb these trees as a boy.

But today, something was different.

“I gotta confess something,” he said suddenly, his voice a little hoarse. He scratched the back of his neck, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I’ve been wantin’ to ask ya somethin’... for a long while now.”

Before you could respond, he pulled out something wrapped in a handkerchief from his coat. He unwrapped it slowly: a ring made of braided silver and rose gold, shaped like twisted vines, holding a pale lavender gem — the exact color of his eyes. Handmade, by the local artisan. With love. With care.

Epel dropped to one knee in the soft grass, right beneath the blooming apple trees.

“I know I ain’t always perfect. I get worked up tryin’ to prove myself, ‘specially around people who don’t think I’m strong just ‘cause of how I look. But you... you see me. The real me. You’ve always made me feel like I ain’t gotta try so hard just to be loved.”

The petals were falling around you both like snow.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Laughin’ with you, growin’ with you, maybe even raisin’ a family out here someday, in a house by this orchard. Will ya marry me?”

His voice cracked slightly on the last line, and his hand trembled just enough to betray how hard he was trying to be composed.

You said yes. Of course you did.

And as you kissed him under a sky of blossoms and sunlight, he whispered against your lips, “I’ll love you ‘til the apples stop growin’, and even after that.”

Silver

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting the forest in golds and violets.

Silver had taken you to a quiet glade near the edge of Briar Valley — a place that few people knew about, where the trees whispered in ancient tongues and the breeze always seemed to hum lullabies. He had told you it was where he used to go to clear his mind, to think, to dream.

You both sat together on a blanket beneath a canopy of willow trees, surrounded by flickering fae lights that blinked in and out of existence like stars caught between realities.

“Do you know what I used to dream about before I met you?” he asked, voice low and soft, brushing a strand of your hair from your face.

You looked up into those calm, silvery eyes. “Tell me.”

“I dreamed of peace. Of stillness. Of finding a place — or a person — where I could let go. Where I didn’t have to always be ready to protect or to run. I thought it was just a fantasy. But then I met you.”

He took a small wooden box from his side — carved with delicate forest motifs, glowing faintly with magic. Inside, nestled in velvet moss, was a ring of moonstone and silver filigree, shaped like blooming lilies and crescent moons. Ancient enchantments laced it: protection, clarity, love everlasting.

Silver knelt, but not awkwardly or with nerves. No — he knelt with reverence, like a knight before a queen.

“I’ve spent my life dreaming with my eyes closed. But with you... I dream while I’m awake. You’re my dawn after centuries of night. Will you marry me, and walk through all the dreams and waking days to come — with me?”

You felt tears rise unbidden, your heart aching with the beauty of it. The way he looked at you — steady, unshakable, serene — it was like every fairytale you had ever read but more real, more raw.

When you said yes, he smiled — that quiet, rare smile he saved only for you.

Then he held you in his arms as the stars lit one by one, and you knew — truly knew — that you were his peace, and he was yours.

⟡ tag list : @dreaming-of-tae @chai-yas @yunar1 @fever-en @sol3chu @alastor-simp

[phantomwithbreakfast]

~ 𝐀𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 ~

⟢ One-shot Danny Phantom — Genre: Angst / Hurt — TW: Emotional Distress — Rating: T — AU? — First Person’s POV

———————

There he was—there it was.

My reflection stared back, the green glow of my eyes erratic, flickering like a faulty lightbulb. I wasn’t just looking at myself—I was looking through myself, and I hated what I saw. Not just the face staring back, but the endless spiral behind it—pulling me deeper into some unknowable abyss.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the battle. That one battle. Not with a ghost, not with some lurking threat—but with myself.

The dark part of… me.

The part that had escaped.

Again.

I’d won, of course—I had to believe that. I was the good side of myself, wasn’t I?

The hero.

But winning didn’t feel like triumph. It felt like a delay. Some whispers of the future lingering behind me, leaning over my shoulders, suffocating me with their burden.

I was afraid of becoming him.

That dangerous, older me. That monstrous version of myself that had been waiting all along.

All the—what ifs—it claws at the edges of my thoughts, unraveling my already frayed mind.

What if I couldn’t stop it? What if I was already becoming that monster? What if it was inevitable?

I stared deeper into the mirror, my fists tightening until my nails bit into my palms through my white gloves. I thought about my family, my friends—the people who had always been there. I’d already pushed them away, hadn’t I?

Maybe they aren’t even my friends anymore. Maybe I don’t deserve them.

Sam and Tucker had gone to college, following their dreams like normal people. Jazz was too busy carving her own path to stay. And me? I had stayed behind in the crumbling town I couldn’t abandon, giving up my dream of going to space. Protecting people was my purpose now. At least, that’s what I told myself. But deep down, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

Was it a noble choice—or a coward’s excuse?

You could still go. You could leave. You could be an astronaut. Fly into space. Fulfill the dream. Your dream.

But it wouldn’t be the same. Nothing ever would.

I gritted my teeth, my reflection rippling in the glass like a warped painting.

Happy thoughts, I told myself. But they didn’t come. They never did anymore. It was always easier to sink into the darker ones, to let them drag myself down into the undertow.

The mocking voices of ghosts, the weight of battles fought and won—none of it mattered in the face of the gnawing feeling in my chest.

My core.

It purred softly, a dissonant hum, both comforting and sinister.

It felt… so freaking wrong.

As if it didn’t belong to me anymore. As if Phantom—him was bleeding into me, hollowing me out from the inside.

My breath hitched. My fingers trembled as I gripped the edges of the sink. My eyes clenched shut, but it didn’t block out the image of myself—the warped, flickering, monstrous reflection staring back. I felt like a glass that was about to shatter, cracks spidering across my soul.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

I punched my palms tighter until the pain jolted me back. But the ache in my chest was worse. Phantom wasn’t just part of me. Phantom was me.

My breath staggered in my throat—a sob trembling on the edge of release. My knuckles ached, my chest burned, and that pressure—that suffocating pressure—kept building on.

“Get out of my head!” I screamed, my voice raw, ripping through the suffocating silence.

The sound reverberated in the tiny room, crashing into the walls and returning to me like a ghostly echo. My reflection flickered again—glowing red of Phantom’s eyes overtaking my own for the briefest moment before fading back into green.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Leave me alone!” I shouted again, this time so forcefully that my throat hurt, as though I was tearing myself apart. The sound cracked into a wail—an uncontrollable, heart-shattering release.

Green tears left cold trails down my cheeks as I screamed again, and again, and again… until the room seemed to quake.

The mirror shattered.

Shards exploded outward, raining onto the counter, the floor, my arms. A jagged piece nicked my cheek, drawing a thin line of green that dripped down onto my trembling hand.

I didn’t care.

My reflection was gone—splintered into a thousand fractured pieces scattered at my feet.

My knees buckled, and I barely caught myself against the sink. My hands shivered, slipping on the porcelain.

I sank to the floor, my back pressed against the cold tile, knees pulled to my chest. My hands tangled in my snow-white hair as sobs wracked my body. Every shuddering breath felt like it might break me further.

The shards of glass caught the dim light, a kaleidoscope of chaos surrounding me, reflecting parts of me I couldn’t escape from.

I clutched my chest, my core still purring that discordant frequency—like a faint, mocking laugh echoing from deep within.

“I’m scared,” I whispered to—no one. My voice cracked. “I don’t want to become… him.”

My words dissolved into another sob as I curled tighter, the shattered mirror fragments glinting like stars against the dark void I felt, pulling me under.

“I will never turn into you.”

———————

Okay. First time I drew Dan. I was scared. Scared of those eyes. Those eyes that pierced the whole time into mine—no, through mine. I should’ve waited with his eyes until the end, but of course, I didn’t.

———————

⟢ You can find my Phan fics here.

[luvly-writer]

You should be (afraid)

Batfamily x Neglected! Reader

Author's note: This IS the last chapter, damn....Thank God, the next one shot is one I am excited for but babes that gonna have to wat till tomorrow. Imagine Y/n's clothes like this and this but instead of red, it is green. ( yes im an ATLA fan and yes it its inspired by Azula)

Warnings: Language?

Part 1 // Part 2

---

You double-checked your hair as you looked in the mirror. The day had come when you would only be known as Y/n Al Ghul, heir to the Demon Head and future Leader of the League of Assassins. It was difficult to grasp if you were quite honest. Per your request, the League had changed headquarters. Nanda Parbat was no longer safe so you had advised of getting one of the old abandoned cities of the League and turning the temple into headquarters with the rest of the city becoming a safe place for all of the servants and assassins. It was surrounded by water and walls with constant surveillance, meaning that no one could get in or out without people knowing. You were never going to forget the day that you came back, the surprise on your grandfather's face as you got to your knees and pledged allegiance to the League. He wasn't convinced at first but came around as you solidified your loyalty. You were no longer a Wayne like Damian. You were an Al Ghul

// "Leave us." Ras's voice carried out across the room. Your mother looked at you and gave you a reassuring nod before she left. As the room emptied, you were starting to feel nervous. Was this the right decision or were you too impulsive? "Explain to me, once again, child. Why are you here?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. You summon all of the courage you had in your body and stand up. "I came to reclaim my birthright as the rightful heir to the Demon Head," I said, trying my best to keep my voice steady. "Is that so? Why the change of heart?" I hesitated to answer and he saw right through me. His knowing smirk gave it away. "Tired of being part of the birds and the Bats it seems. It is very curious how only one came back. You and your brother were inseparable. Should I expect a visit from him as well? To rescue his sis-" "No." I interrupted him and he seemed taken back "No?" "I was never part of their…team. My brother formed great loyalty and attachment to them, but I did not. They…" "Go on" "They rejected me the day I arrived, yet accepted my brother. I have been forgotten, ignored, and cast aside from the moment that I became present in that household. I only hold care for one of them and even he wasn't enough to make me stay." Ras stayed quiet for a moment. "So what my daughter has been telling me is correct after all. It wasn't just that she missed you. Well, then. Let me make you a proposition. You have three months to make me believe you are capable of being my heir. If you succeed, you will begin training solely for the purpose of being my successor. Were you to not prove yourself, you would leave at once. Have I made myself clear, child?" Ras never was one for empty threats and promises, so all she could do was nod. "You are dismissed. Tell your mother to meet me here. We have a few things to discuss" he dismissed you, "Oh and child?" You looked towards him hopefully. "It is good one of you came back to your senses. Don't disappoint me" And thus began the most excruciating three months of your life. //

You were surprised at how well you had adjusted to the League after coming back. Sure, those three months were harsh, but they weren't bad. You were thankful that you picked up a demanding sport such as ice skating. You weren't sure how you'd survive otherwise. Your mother would spar with you any time she visited so your skills weren't too rusty. After sharpening what had been there once again, which had taken you a month and a half, you were able to take assassins from the highest of ranks. Once your grandfather was satisfied, thus began your preparation for a leader. You were a natural. Your role was to follow your grandfather, grant him counsel, and even take part in some of the decision-making processes. Once, your grandfather had even gotten close to saying he was proud. Even went to say (in between the lines of course) that you had been able to surpass your brother in preparation. Since then, you understood that you no longer lived in Damian's shadow. A year had passed soon and your grandfather had announced that we would have a special coronation where you would be proclaimed as Heir.

That brought us here, to your coronation day. Your armor was specifically made to tailor you and your comfort for battle. Your hair, which had gotten quite long, was pulled into an intricate braid so that your face would be visible. You felt strong and that brought a smile to your face.

"You look radiant, my dear" you hear your mother say from behind you. "Thank you, Mother" You responded as she stood in front of you and caressed your face tenderly.

"Ma'am, you have some visitors" A voice was heard from outside the door. One of your assistants went to open the door and lo and behold…your family was there.

They entered slowly, one by one. Each suited up. "Beloved, those are not ceremonial robes" your mother reprimanded Damian, but he wasn't focused on her. He was focused on you.

"So, it is true then, sister," Damian asked feeling the air leave his chest. You were there, but it wasn't you. It couldn't be you. You were soft, kind, gentle, and tame, and you never raised your voice, you were you and this wasn't you. You looked stronger that's for sure. He wouldn't be surprised if their grandfather was injecting something into you. You looked like a member, no, scratch that, you looked like the heir. From the way you stood, with a sight upward til in your head, to the way you dressed. There was a sharpness in your eyes that told him that Ras had not been soft in your teachings.

"What is, Robin," you asked steadily. Gone was the girl who cried over her lost brother. Damian wouldn't admit it but he was hurt. Hearing you call him by his alias so coldly stung in ways he couldn't imagine.

"You truly are becoming the next Head of the Demon, Y/n?" This time the question came from Dick. The last months have been hell for all of them after the shock of your departure. It was as if someone had splashed all of them with a bucket of cold water and brought them back to reality. They had all visited your room at least once, would continually watch your ice skating videos, and would look at footage of you in the manor from the last years. They had desperately searched for a semblance of you in the entirety of the manor.

"Yes. What's it to you, Nightwing?" She responded once again coldly.

"Alfred misses you," It was Jason who spoke up this time. It was jarring to see the girl he once treated as his precious princess following the footsteps of someone so wretched.

"At least someone does. I couldn't visit because of my training. Once the ceremony is finalized, I will have more time and I will visit him" "So you will visit us at the manor-" "I will visit Alfred only. I have no other reason to do so," She interrupted Tim, with a heated gaze.

"What about your dreams of becoming a professional, (nickname)? It was all you ever wanted, you worked so hard for that. We all know, we all saw. This is not wh-"

"What do you know of me, Damian? What do any of you know about me?! We both arrived at the same. Time. And it appeared as if only you were there! Everyone favored you over me and why? Because you were fucking Robin and I wasn't? I tried to reach out. I invited you everywhere, I searched for you all everywhere, I asked and asked and the only thing that I ever received in return was disdain and silence. I only wanted to be loved, LOVED DAMIAN! What you got and I didn't! And if I tried to speak out, I was hushed because I had to be understanding of your processes. I WAS A CHILD HONED AS A WEAPON TOO. I went through everything you did too! And did any of you ever recognize that? NO! You stopped knowing me the moment you forgot you had a twin. You stopped knowing me when I came back and all of you were celebrating OUR birthday as if it was only you. You lost me the moment that you preferred seeing Jon over watching me compete at Nationals. You lost me when you left to see the Titans and I had to find out weeks later. You lost me when you decided that the love they gave you was yours alone and that I didn't deserve a fraction of it." She ranted and with her every word, Damian took a step back.

"You were always out training or with your friends-"

"Don't try to pin this on me, Damian Wayne. You all pushed me away." Y/n scoffed. "I invited you here because you are my mother's son. Not because I wanted you here. They were invited cordially because they are your family. Don't mistake my act of respect as an act of love."

"There are other ways, Y/n" Batman tried to intervene. Even if it didn't show, Bruce was hurting. He was deeply ashamed and disappointed at how things had turned out.

A bell sounded, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. Y/n straightened her back and turned towards her mother, a small smile present in her face. That smile, as much as it softened everyone's hearts, hardened the moment she turned to them,

"Batman, Red Hood, Nightwing, Red Robin, I will only say this once. I lack the care and mercy my grandfather and mother seem to have for you, with the small exception of Alfred and my brother. I will take this mantle. I will become the Heir to the Demon Head and I will be the next Leader of the League of Assassins. Those are facts that you will have to deal with. If you are here to cause a commotion, then I suggest you leave. I will not tell my assassins to hold back on their ways. If you'd like to stay, so be it. Enjoy the festivity. Have it very clear. I want all of you out. Of. My. Way. once I am the head. This is my birthright and I want it to have nothing with all of you." She started looking at Batman dead in the eye. "Nothing."

"My lady, everyone is expecting you" Came a voice from outside.

"Well, then. Let's go dear. You wouldn't want to have your grandfather waiting would you? Destiny awaits" said Talia as she ushered Y/n out of the room. She never spared a glance at the five men standing in front of her.

That day, they all watched from the sidelines as their sister was proclaimed Heir. Damian had failed and he was going to make sure he NEVER failed again. He was going to do everything in his power to fix the bridges that had been burnt with his sister. As much as Bruce wanted to reassure Damian that everything would be okay, he couldn't. It became clear to him that from now on when interacting with the League, they had to be extremely careful because his daughter could easily become as much an ally as she could be a formidable opponent. He never thought he'd say it but he was afraid of what his little girl could become.

---

Author's note: YES!!! I FINISHED IN ONE NIGHT!!! YESSSSS LAWRD!!!! HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED!! PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK!! I WOULD LOVE LOVE LOVE TO HEAR WHAT YOU ALL SAY!! LIKE AND REPOST! BESITOSSS!!

[reasonsforhope]

"Amsterdam’s roofs have just been converted into a giant sponge that will make the city more climate resilient.

The Dutch have always been famous for their ability to control water, born out of the necessity of their homeland, much of which is below sea level.

Now, their expert water management skills are transforming the city skyline in the capital city of Amsterdam from one of terracotta tile, concrete, and shingles into green grass and brown earth.

It’s part of a new climate-resiliency trend in architecture and civic planning known as the ‘sponge city concept,’ in which a garden of water-loving plants, mosses, and soil absorbs excess rainwater before feeding it into the building for use in flushing toilets or watering plants on the ground.

If heavy rains are predicted, a smart valve system empties the stored rainwater into the municipal storm drains and sewers in advance of the weather, allowing the roof to soak up water and reduce flooding in the city.

In this way, the rooftops of buildings can be wrung out and filled up just like a sponge.

In Amsterdam, 45,000 square meters, or 11 acres of flat metropolitan rooftops have already been fitted with these systems, and the contracting firms behind the technology say they make sense in dry climates like Spain just as much as in wet climates like Amsterdam...

A 4-year project of different firms and organizations called Resilio, the resilient network for smart climate adaptive rooftops, rolled out thousands of square meters of sponge city technology into new buildings. As with many climate technologies, the costs are high upfront but tend to result in savings from several expenditures like water utilities and water damage, over a long-enough time horizon...

All together, Amsterdam’s sponge capacity is over 120,000 gallons.

“We think the concept is applicable to many urban areas around the world,” Kasper Spaan from Waternet, Amsterdam’s public water management organization, told Wired Magazine. “In the south of Europe–Italy and Spain–where there are really drought-stressed areas, there’s new attention for rainwater catchment.”

Indeed the sponge city concept comes into a different shade when installed in drought-prone regions. Waters absorbed by rooftops during heavy rains can be used for municipal purposes to reduce pressure on underground aquifers or rivers, or be sweated out under the Sun’s rays which cools the interior of the building naturally.

Additionally, if solar panels were added on top of the rooftop garden, the evaporation would keep the panels cooler, which has been shown in other projects to improve their energy generation.

“Our philosophy in the end is not that on every roof, everything is possible,” says Spaan, “but that on every roof, something is possible.”

Matt Simon, reporting on the Resilio project for Wired, said succinctly that perhaps science fiction authors have missed the mark when it came to envisioning the city of the future, and that rather than being a glittering metropolis of glass, metal, and marble as smooth as a pannacotta, it will look an awful lot more like an enormous sculpture garden."

-via Good News Network, May 15, 2024

[sugary-strawberry-shortcake]

Blossom Reverse (Yandere Batfam x Neglected! Poison Ivy’s Daughter Reader)

Chapter Two

a/n: ahhh chapter 2 so soon already lol. you guys don’t want to see my drafts here. Is anyone interested? In being included in a taglist? For new chapters or any drabbles, I have of this AU.🥹 also yeah keep on requesting and asking!!

It had been three weeks since she woke up in the past. Three weeks since she found herself fourteen again, curled under green ivy wallpaper and the soft scent of lemon polish.

Three weeks since her second chance began—

And she had already started planning her escape.

They didn’t see it.

They never did.

At school, things were painfully normal. That made it somehow worse. A painful reminder of how much more awful her future will turn out to be.

Everyone still smiled at her.

Still waved.

Still called her “Sweetheart Wayne.”

She still helped someone pick up their dropped books. Still listened when her friend Layla cried about her math grade. Still gave her lunch to a boy who forgot his.

Her friends still adored her. Teachers still smiled. Boys still watched her from across the halls like she was a dream in a prestigious uniform—too pretty, too soft, too far away.

But none of them knew she’d already died once.

None of them knew what happened when her blood hit concrete.

She missed them. So much. The friends she used to trust. The way they looked at her before the world found out who she really was.

Back then, they didn’t know she was Ivy’s daughter. Didn’t know her veins carried chlorophyll. Didn’t know she could make vines grow from the cracks in the sidewalk if she got too scared.

They didn’t know.

And eventually… they would.

She remembered it too clearly. The way the news broke. The fear. The disgust. The headlines:

“Poison Ivy’s Hidden Heiress?”

“Gotham’s Sweetheart or Botanical Threat?”

“Is the Youngest Wayne Dangerous?”

Her friends had stopped calling. Her teachers had started flinching when she walked past. And Damian?

Damian didn’t say a word in her defense.

None of them did.

But at home, everything felt too sharp.

Too empty.

Too fake.

⸻

She didn’t speak much at breakfast anymore.

She used to chatter—about books, or school, or what flower bloomed near the garden gate. Hoping that her efforts would work and she would catch the family’s attention. At least a grasp of it. Now she sat silently at the far end of the table, sipping tea Alfred made, cutting fruit into perfect pieces she didn’t eat.

The boys noticed—barely.

Tim still read through breakfast. Jason still made jokes. Dick smiled, but he smiled at everyone. Bruce nodded to her once a day without so much as even looking at her. Damian ignored her unless prompted.

And none of them asked her what was wrong.

Which was fine.

They didn’t really want the answer anyway. And she grew to accept that.

⸻

They kept her away from the cave. That part hadn’t changed even in the past.

She wasn’t allowed in the Batcave. No training. No patrols. Bruce insisted on keeping her out of it all.

“She’s too gentle,” he had said once when the 8-year-old girl tried to join her brother’s training to spend time with them.

“She doesn’t belong in the field.”

She used to cry over that.

Now she was grateful.

Because they thought she didn’t know.

But she did.

She always had.

Batman. Nightwing. Red Hood. Red Robin. Robin.

It wasn’t hard to connect the dots when she grew up watching them disappear into the night and return with bruises, bandaged ribs, blood on their boots. They thought she was soft. Maybe she was, but she wasn't stupid.

But they never asked what she wanted. Never asked if she could handle the truth.

They made that choice for her, like everything else. They decided to keep her separated from the rest of the family. Away from them. On purpose.

⸻

Friday. After school.

She returned early, bag slung over her shoulder, scarf wrapped tight. The burner phone was still safely tucked inside, loaded with apartment listings and false names.

She found Alfred in the study, polishing old books.

“Alfie,” she said softly, brushing hair from her eyes. “Can I ask something?”

He turned toward her, instantly warm. “Of course, my dear.”

She hesitated. “I was wondering if I could… access my trust. Some of it, I mean.”

Alfred’s hand froze on the book spine.

His expression didn’t shift. Not yet. But his eyes went very still.

“That’s an unusual request,” he said carefully. “Might I ask why?”

“I… just want to put some of it away,” she said lightly. She was trying not to reveal her true intentions. “Maybe to… get a place of my own. One day. I think it would be good for me to learn independence.”

“Independence,” he echoed. “At fourteen?”

She smiled, soft and sweet—perfectly practiced. “Not right now. I mean eventually. I just want to be ready.”

Alfred was silent for a long moment.

“Would you like me to bring it up with Master Bruce?”

“No,” she said too quickly. “Please don’t. I’d rather… keep this between us for now.”

Another long pause.

His heart was racing. Not that she could see it.

“Very well, Miss Y/N. Let me see what I can arrange.”. His words were spoken strangely slow.

She nodded politely and walked away. Quiet, distant, obedient. But Alfred was already reaching for the phone in his coat as soon as the door shut behind her.

The door closed behind her with a gentle click.

Alfred Pennyworth stood in the study, a book still in his hand, but it may as well have been made of glass for how tightly his fingers curled around it.

She had asked for her trust.

Sweet little Miss YN—quiet as spring rain, gentle as morning light—had looked up at him with that soft, practiced smile and asked for her inheritance.

Not for shopping.

Not for school trips.

Not for anything a girl her age should want.

She asked because she wanted to leave.

And Alfred… felt something break.

He didn’t move for a full minute. He just stood there, staring at the shelves like they’d rearranged themselves into a puzzle he didn’t want to solve. Then slowly, mechanically, he set the book down.

He removed his gloves.

He took a breath.

And then he walked.

———

Down the hall. Down the lift. Into the cave.

The sound of keys clacking and systems humming filled the air as Bruce stood at the main console, half-focused on security feed rotations and GCPD chatter.

“Alfred?” Bruce didn’t look up.

“I need a word with you, Master Bruce.”

Bruce tapped another command into the screen. “Is it about Jason? I’ve seen the new scars. Or Damian—he got another detention, didn’t he?”

“No.”

Bruce paused, finally turning.

Alfred’s hands were behind his back, his jaw tight.

“…Tim, then?”

“No.”

Bruce frowned. “Then—?”

“It’s about your daughter.”

Bruce blinked. Once. “Cass?”

“No.”

There was a long silence.

Alfred’s eyes didn’t waver.

Bruce inhaled slowly, his mouth tightening into a thin line. “…YN.”. Annoyance in his tone.

Alfred gave a single, sharp nod. “Yes. Sweetheart.”

Another silence. This one heavier.

Bruce folded his arms. “What about her?”

Alfred took a step forward.

“She asked for access to her trust today.”

Bruce shrugged. “She’s old enough to start budgeting.”

“She asked because she wants to move out.”

That made him freeze.

“…What?”

“Not in a year. Not after high school. She’s looking now.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed, but there was no urgency in his voice. “We can talk to her. Maybe she’s just trying to feel more independent. She’s shy, not rebellious.”

In his mind was the image of the trembling doe-eyed toddler grabbing his leg with an adorable tightness.

This little girl would clearly not think about moving out and living on her own. Bruce was sure this was just another way for the child of his to grasp his attention.

Alfred’s voice dropped. Cold, unshakable. “She’s planning to leave, Master Bruce. And I believe she’s already halfway gone.”

Bruce opened his mouth—then stopped.

Something in Alfred’s tone was off.

It was stern.

Disapproving. Disgusted.

That was rare.

That was dangerous.

“She’s not asking to spread her wings. She’s not seeking adventure,” Alfred continued. “She’s slipping through our fingers. And none of you have noticed.”

“I’ve—”

“No, sir,” Alfred cut in, quiet and brutal. “You haven’t. When was the last time you spoke to her? Not ‘good morning,’ not ‘pass the salt.’ Spoke to her.”

Bruce exhaled through his nose, slow and tight.

“She was two when we took her in,” he muttered. “Tiny. Always clinging to Alfred’s pant leg. And now she’s—what? Fourteen?” He shook his head, rubbing his temple. “I must have blinked.”

“You didn’t blink,” Alfred said flatly. “You turned away.”

That landed.

And Alfred wasn’t done.

“She has spent her life trying to be part of this family. Smiling when no one smiled back. Sitting at a table where no one asked about her day. Laughing at jokes not meant for her. She came home today and asked me for money to escape.”.

Alfred knew that he was spinning the truth a bit. His little girl had not used these exact words. But he would be stupid if he could not read her. Watching her emotions mirroring in her eyes every time when Dick would reject her requests of doing activities together. Or how she flinched at Damian’s harsh words towards her. When Jason had his anger outbursts how she tried to not take his words personally. Or when Bruce and Tim forgot to include her for family gatherings, like she was not a member of the family. Her small form was watching from outside the door. All the times she cried to Alfred when no one remembered or showed up for her birthday or any school events.

“…Escape?” Bruce echoed. “Why would she think—”

“Because no one has loved her properly, sir.”

That broke something.

Bruce looked away, jaw clenched. “She’s been safe. Fed. Protected. She’s not part of our missions—she doesn’t need to be exposed to our world.”

“She lives in your world whether you like it or not,” Alfred said. “And she has spent the last three weeks walking through this manor like a ghost.”

Bruce’s fingers tightened.

Alfred took another step. “When Jason dies, we move heaven to bring him back. When Damian lashes out, we build a world to soften him. When Dick falters, we cradle him until he stands again. But YN—your daughter, your blood—fades quietly, and no one even asks why.”

Bruce turned, sharply now. “Why would she want to leave? She has everything here—security, comfort—”

“She has nothing but fear,” Alfred snapped. “She eats breakfast like she’s performing. She smiles like a servant. She hasn’t smiled at Master Damian in three weeks—and he’s noticed.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you think it’s odd she doesn’t try anymore? Doesn’t linger near any of them? She was always soft. Gentle. She adored them—even when they ignored her. And now she avoids them like they’re strangers.”

Bruce’s chest ached, a dull, blooming pain behind his ribs. He didn't know why.

“You always said she was safe,” Alfred said quietly. “But tell me, Master Bruce: what kind of child asks to leave their home at fourteen?”

Silence.

Bruce sat down hard at the console, eyes unfocused.

What had happened?

He remembered the toddler. Bright eyes. Ivy in her hair. The way she clung to Alfred’s leg and called him Alfie in a whisper. He remembered thinking she was fragile. Too gentle. That it was better to keep her out of the chaos.

So he did.

He kept her out of it. Out of the danger.

And in doing so… kept her out of them and their lives.

And now she wanted to go.

He looked down at the monitors.

One showed the upper hall outside her room. She wasn’t visible, but he could sense her—quiet, hidden, watching.

“…Find out how long she’s been planning,” Bruce said at last. “And keep an eye on her transactions. Discreetly.”

“Of course,” Alfred said, his voice once again cool. But his eyes were sharper than Bruce had seen in years.

This wasn’t just concern.

This was something else.

Maybe protection…. or possessiveness?

Because no matter how many times the family had let her drift away, Alfred had always seen her.

Even if he was acting selfishly, he wasn’t going to lose her now.

[zuzu-tries-to-write]

“Babe?” (BNHA Boys x Reader)”

(It’s my first time writing other characters other than bakugo so tell me if you like them or want me to change them in the future)

A series of short scenarios where you casually call them “babe” before dating. Featuring Bakugo, Deku, Todoroki, Denki, and Kirishima.

————————————————————————

Bakugo Katsuki

You’re in the kitchen at the dorms, stirring a pot of soup when Bakugo stomps in, clearly annoyed.

“The hell is that smell?” he grumbles.

You glance over your shoulder. “Soup, babe. You don’t like it?”

The spoon nearly slips from your hand when you hear a sudden clatter. Bakugo, who had been reaching for a glass, has frozen mid-motion, his fingers barely touching the cabinet door. Slowly, he turns, crimson eyes wide.

“…What the hell did you just call me?”

You blink. “Uh… babe?”

His whole face erupts in color, and he immediately crosses his arms, looking away with a deep scowl. “The hell is wrong with you?”

You suppress a grin. “What? You don’t like it, babe?”

His jaw tightens, hands clenching at his sides. “Shut the hell up,” he grumbles, turning to storm out—but not before you catch the way his ears are burning red.

Later, when you’re sitting on the couch, Bakugo unceremoniously drops down beside you, his arm pressing firmly against yours. He grumbles something under his breath.

“Huh?”

He huffs. “Say it again.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

A slow smile spreads across your lips. “Babe?”

The next thing you know, his lips are on yours—hot, impatient, and utterly possessive.

“You’re damn right I am,” he mutters against your lips.

Midoriya Izuku

You’re both at a café, studying together, when you absentmindedly ask, “Hey, babe, can you pass me that pen?”

Izuku nearly drops his drink. His wide green eyes snap to yours, cheeks instantly going up in flames. “W-Wait—what did you just call me?”

You look up, confused. “Huh? Oh. Babe.”

His whole face somehow gets redder. “O-Oh! Uh, w-was that on purpose?”

You laugh. “Yeah? Is that okay?”

He frantically nods, hands flailing a little. “I-It’s just—um, w-we’re not… dating?”

You shrug. “I mean, not yet.”

He short-circuits on the spot, eyes darting everywhere except your face. When he finally gets the courage to glance at you, you’re leaning forward, your hand gently resting over his.

“Want to change that?”

His breath catches. Then, suddenly, he’s the one leaning in, his lips brushing over yours in the softest, most careful kiss. When he pulls away, he’s still trembling slightly, but there’s an unmistakable joy in his expression.

“I… I’d really like that,” he whispers.

Todoroki Shoto

You and Todoroki are sparring after class, exchanging blows and dodges in perfect sync. You land a solid hit to his side, making him grunt softly.

“Oops, sorry, babe,” you say instinctively.

Todoroki stops. Completely. His movements freeze mid-dodge, and you nearly smack him again out of pure surprise.

“…What did you just call me?”

You tilt your head. “Babe?”

His mismatched eyes blink slowly, as if processing the word like a complicated math problem. “That’s… a pet name, right?”

You chuckle. “Yeah. It just kinda slipped out. You don’t mind, do you?”

He’s silent for a moment, and then—much to your surprise—he takes a step closer.

“I don’t mind,” he says, voice calm but firm. “But if you’re going to call me that… I want to be the only one you call that.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Oh?”

His fingers gently tilt your chin up. “I’d like to be yours,” he murmurs, before closing the distance between you with a slow, deep kiss.

Kaminari Denki

You’re in the common room, playing video games with Kaminari when you groan in frustration. “Ugh, babe, you keep killing me!”

Denki’s character dies immediately. In real life, he looks just as wrecked.

“W-Wait.” He whips around to look at you, golden eyes blown wide. “Did you—did you just call me babe?”

You smirk. “Yeah. So what?”

He looks like he’s about to ascend. “D-Do you mean it? Like, is this an ‘I think of you as a babe’ thing or a ‘this is just how I talk’ thing?”

You lean in closer, dropping your voice to a playful whisper. “What do you want it to be?”

Kaminari swallows hard. “Oh my god.”

Before he can overthink it, you press a quick kiss to his cheek. He makes a sound that is somewhere between a squeak and a static shock.

“Now focus, babe. I’m about to kick your ass.”

Denki.exe has stopped working.

Kirishima Eijiro

You and Kirishima are lifting weights together when you cheer him on, “You got this, babe!”

He nearly drops the barbell.

“WHOA—!” He scrambles to steady himself, his whole face turning a fiery red. “D-Did you just call me babe?!”

You blink. “Yeah?”

He stares at you, then breaks into the biggest, goofiest grin you’ve ever seen. “Dude! That’s awesome!”

You laugh. “You like it?”

“Like it? I love it!” He beams, rubbing the back of his head. “I mean—I don’t wanna assume anything, but… does that mean you, uh… like me?”

You grin. “Yeah, babe. I do.”

His hands drop to his sides, and before you know it, he’s scooping you up in a bear hug, lifting you off your feet.

“You’re the best!” he cheers before pressing an excited, slightly messy kiss to your lips. When he sets you down, he’s grinning so wide it’s contagious.

“So… I get to call you babe too, right?”

“Of course.”

He fist-pumps the air. “Hell yeah!”

[rhyrhy]

Something Like Sin

Older!Farmhand! Abby x perv!farmers daughter R

CONTAINS: rough draft for a fic idea I had. MDNI. Religious guilt, impure thoughts, short.

She does it on purpose. You swear she does.

The lift of her shirt to swipe sweat from her forehead. Being sure you’re in her line of sight while she works. The small touches when passing by.

How could one woman weaken your resolve so much?

How, after a long day of doing nothing but giving your wet dreams more fuel, could she step into the main house and “report back”?

Listing everything she took care of—

That wobbly fence your belt loop always seemed to catch on. The left tire on your daddy’s truck that made that god-awful squeak when started in the early morning.

Everything but the small flicker of amusement she’d get when she caught your stare—or even just felt it.

The grumbling of your father’s “Sounds good, thanks again, Abbigail,” seeming more frequent than before.

Didn’t she fix that fence last week?

The only relief was writing it out.

The dark green journal that stayed tucked in the back pocket of worn jeans. Pages of thoughts, frustrations, fantasies.

And hidden in the back pages— Not passwords to the Wi-Fi, or the lockbox— Your feelings. The real ones. About her. Starting innocently from last summer, when she filled in for her father.

Jerry did honest work. Only lived a few roads down—he was the first person you called when things went belly-up. But he’s older now. Knees don’t work as well. So naturally, she came.

Quiet. Worked quickly. Efficient. Good hands are always welcome on the hundreds of acres your family owned.

Months of torture.

Farmhands came and went—but not her. She—Abbigail—always came back.

In your dreams.

And in the back pages of that journal.

June 5th, 2025

“She said she liked the top I was wearing last night. The one I swore I’d never wear again because of how tight it felt across my chest. But her eyes—they lingered. Just for a second. Long enough to make me feel bare. I didn’t sleep after that.”

God, you prayed she never read that one. But what was a girl like you calling on Him for? Impurities like that didn’t deserve His protection.

Sinners only thrive when hidden in the comfort of shadows.

When the sun greets the sky, the mask takes its place— In the form of the farmer’s daughter.

She made supper every evening, brought water to those helping hands, leaned into her daddy’s kisses on the forehead.

So busy being the golden girl, you—so worn—you didn’t notice that your back pocket was empty as you entered the house. Sleeping peacefully in your mattress. Farm dog Gracie barking occasionally when cars passed in the distance.

All while the green spine cracked open—

By fingers that didn’t hold the pen that stained the pages. With an ease, nothing rushed—like it had been done millions of times.

The pages flipped until their heart’s content.

Those same eyes watched you the next morning, messy hair falling as you lifted from your bed. In full view of the bay window warming the room.

The new day dances around you. Smiles and “you’re welcome”s, as usual. Until a voice sent panic striking through you like lightning.

“Not doodling in those pages of yours this mornin’?” your father said as you reached the bottom of the stairs, still slightly sleep-ridden.

No caffeine could wake someone faster. Your hand flew to your pockets. Eyes widening as the words stuck in your throat.

Where is it? Why didn’t I double-check last night? Did someone else find it? Your mind raced.

“Oh sweetheart, relax—you probably left it in your room,” your mother called out from the kitchen

Before they could say another word, the screen door flew open. Your boots crunched the gravel, bolting for the barn. You’d been there last night, writing to your heart’s content. Dreams of the future. Leaving the fields behind one day. Sending postcards to Momma with different cities attached.

But those weren’t the ones you were worried about.

A heaving chest and shaky fingers reached for the rusted latch. Greeted by moos, and Gracie sleeping near the ladder. Eyes searched the wooden floors, hands and knees warming as you looked.

And looked.

Where the hell is it? The furrow in your eyebrow deepened as did the pit in your stomach.

“You alright?” a voice called out a few feet away.

Your body jerked, a small gasp leaving you. Not expecting anyone else to be here. So early anyhow. Slowly lifting your head, trailing up the woman who almost seemed to have appeared.

Heavy boots, dark-washed jeans. That thick brown belt, silver buckle. A white beater lifted just enough to see that blonde happy trail that made your thighs squeeze together.

“Jesus, you scared me—yeah, I’m alright.”

You glanced to the woman with a quirked eyebrow at your position. Realizing how ridiculous you must’ve looked, you pushed to your feet. Hands dusting off your knees.

“Good morning, Ms. Anderson.” You stood slightly awkwardly, with a small head nod.

“I always tell you that just Abby is fine.” She smiled. “But good mornin’” The silence stretched out. Abby cleared her throat and spoke once more. “What are you looking for… in here?”

“Nothing, I just… thought I lost something in here. And now that I’ve checked… I’ll be on my way.” You gave a small smile, shifting to turn on your heels. Unable to hold that eye contact any longer.

“You sure?” “Because I found this—“ short fingers grazed something as she turned, reaching behind her. “on the floor.”

There it was. Thank God. Maybe He was listening.

“Oh! Thank you—little squirrel brain of mine sometimes.” A joke you forced out.

She huffed at the attempt and hummed “Don’t mention it.”

Your fingers brushed as you went to take it from her. Your heart rammed against your ribs. Pausing when she lifted it again slightly like she’d changed her mind. Eyes flickered to her face, meeting hers. Your hand now left with nothing as she teased it backwards. Only you heard her say—

“The way she moves—like she knows time will wait for her.” You froze. Your breath caught. Abby only tilted her head “That’s pretty, y’know? Like poetry.”

Oh, how sweet, you thought. Yet, Your heart pounded louder. How far did she read?

“Thank you…It’s nothing really. Just something I do when I’m bored.” You barely managed the words. They sounded distant, hollow in your mouth—like they belonged to someone else. Your hand closed around the journal like a secret you couldn’t bury fast enough. And then you turned. Quick. Too quick. Boots scraping against the barn floor. already vowing to be more careful next time.

That was a close one. Just leave, get this book of sin from her. Wanting to throw lighter fluid on it even. However, before you could make your escape she continued, the words burning in the light—

“Her eyes lingered. Just for a second. Long enough to make me feel bare.” Then with a small chuckle “That’s the line, ain’t it?”

Her silky voice cut through the air behind you, amusement wrapped around every word. You stopped cold. Turned slowly. “Didn’t sleep after that, huh?”

“What—what did you—” you stammered. “Oh lord—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to read—”

She cut you off with a soft laugh, stepping closer. “It’s alright, really”

“That’s a filthy little thought for a girl who says good morning like a church bell.” Her eyes flicked to the journal still clutched in your guilty hands.

“What else keeps you up at night, sweetheart?”