#floru tag

[obsessedwithegos]

Imagine Ruru and Runa are in the same restaurant with their significant others or something, but the servers get their orders confused because their names are so similar

Ruru generally wouldn't mind! She'd still inform the wait staff because she'd at least like for the other person (Runa) to get the food they ordered! Ruru isn't picky and she doesn't have any specific diet or restrictions so she doesn't mind eating what she was handed!

Florance would think it's a little funny to see his wife who has hunted down bears for purpose of food and usually gets large bloody steaks to be handed something like vegetarian stuffed peppers!

Meanwhile Edsel would have to flag down wait staff to inform them of the mix up bc the smell from the big rare steak directly in front of Runa would make the mermaid too nauseous to even speak (Thanks Bebê <3).

After the steak his removed from in front of Runa, he'd apologize to the staff helping because he'd feel bad about having them do extra work even if it was a mix up on their part. While waiting for the food he did order, Edsel would gently reassure him that if he doesn't feel well they can leave and that he doesn't have to eat what's put in front of him.

Runa would confirm he's fine after a moment and that he'd still like to eat at the restaurant :>

After the mix up is resolved, everyone enjoys their dinners and Ruru gets to try vegetarian stuffed peppers for the first time! She certainly likes them and makes a note to try regular stuffed peppers! (And Florance goes ahead and saves recipes for stuffed peppers so he can make them for her!)

gen: @emmettnet @thebluejaysworld

[clockwork-sparrow]

TOWER art, part 1! Assets and designs

TOWER was a FF14 arc run from July 2022 to June 2023. It was jointly open to members of the Heartwood FC and Bellworks FC.

[catilinas]

florus 1.18.37 trans. e.s. forster

[save-the-spiral]

just realized i could have pirate nolan stormgate interact with my pirate101 ocs.

Zenobia would love him wholeheartedly in a way where he allows himself to be vulnerable and becomes an older brother figure.

Darcy would think he's a prick and hustle him at cards or billiards.

Susannah & Vitale would be like. wow what an asshole! anyway.

Darling Alexander Dove would kill him though.

[meadowlarksabove]

Tales from Arizona 3/??

A decanus learns about the death of his son and it puts everything into perspective. (Notes: Hortensius is Gabban's decanus previously featured in the first TfA story. For reasons implied in this story, Hortensius renounced his birth name to better fit into the Legion, which is why it's never used or mentioned here. His son's birth name is used because 'Florus' wasn't chosen by his son, but a romanization forced upon them.)

(PLEASE LOOK AT TRIGGER WARNINGS IN THE TAGS!!)

______________________________________________________

…It is with great pain that I have learned of the death of your son. Of all the hardships in building our great empire, chiefest is the loss of great men such as your son. There is no consolation one can offer a father when he has lost their true and rightful heir. Let yourself, at least, be relieved in knowing that every man who gives their life for the Legion lives forever in honor. Do well by his memory, tend to your duties, and do as is right of a man in rebuilding your family- 

Decanus Hortensius raised a hand to the courier before they could recite the rest of the message. Whatever had flashed before the eyes of the warrior, whether sharp or gruesome, had been enough to forewarn the messenger of their great emotion. Without another word, they placed the letter onto the war table and hastily left the tent. Everything thereafter was silent, none of the decanii scheduled to meet with Hortensius could be admitted into his tent without incurring the clearest offense. The soldiers were also forbidden from passing the flap without the expressed approval of their master. In only a matter of hours the entirety of the camp knew something terrible had happened, as a dark and oppressive cloud seemed to shadow their spirits on an otherwise sunny day. Many wondered and looked over their shoulders, thinking rightly that death had given its news. They shivered to think what would become of them, as loss rarely tempered but instead inflamed a man’s character. 

Hours passed and none had seen their decanus save for his closest in command who imparted orders in his absence. While Hortensius had never inspired tenderness in any of his men, they respected his leadership and wisdom, and greatly depended on his fortitude. To see him detained by whatever had stricken him was enough cause for worry. On the other hand, it meant their plans of quitting Phoenix were temporarily put on hold. Though they were eager for their next battle, they had gotten little to no rest in the past month of their campaign and were grateful for even a day of no traveling. Still, their rest had come at an unspeakable cost, and none of them felt any real pleasure for it. They looked at his tent wearily and thought he would burst through the camp hot with rage, ready to ease his pain by spreading misery. Yet nothing came through the flap but a sad and unfortunate quiet. 

Quiet was exactly all the decanus could bear. For the rest of that day he had sat at his table and invariably taken the letter in his hands, only to let go of it when it had lingered too long between his fingers. The message, delicately scrawled across the paper, was useless to a man who’d never learned how to read or write. Yet he understood the truth of its account and of the tragedy he was now forced to face head on. His son, Florus- No, let them be named in his heart by their true name! He was in his right, now more than ever, to remember them by the name he and his wife had given them at birth. Aster, his one and only son, was dead. Aster, who had only been nineteen years old, was dead. 

The thought of his son’s age sent him into another fit. Though no tears welled up in his tired eyes, he felt his lungs swell to the point of making it impossible for him to breathe. He gasped for air, just as his body turned stiff and cold. He was like a dying man himself, lamenting the loss of someone just at the cusp of manhood. But would he have suffered less if his son had died any younger, or older? Would it have made any sense to cry less at the loss of an infant or a middle aged man? Yet his having died at nineteen felt at the moment like the greatest injustice of all, a sentence only thought up in nightmares. They had survived the coming of the Legion into their territory, survived the aftermath of their shameful surrender, survived battles forced upon them by their captors, only to die before he’d been given the honor of a title. However, would they really have wanted such an empty gesture?

Aster, how they must have hated fighting for the bull. Ever since Caesar had drawn them all into his ranks, they had always looked wretched and full of rage. Though that same anger had inadvertently served them at war, in peace it would have only festered and grown into an even greater poison. Hortensius had seen the disdain in his son’s eyes when all of their tribesmen relinquished their arms, as if to say they would never be so easily tamed or made a dog of. His son, he knew, had been a struggle for other decanii, and an even bigger terror towards their peers. No crack of the whip or glaring branding iron could have broken his will. He admonished his son’s behavior in the face of his superiors, but in his heart he praised them with all the spirit a father could give. Though he had long stopped believing in the fall of the Legion, he believed his Aster was capable of attaining real freedom. 

Death at the height of war wasn’t freedom, however. He couldn’t pretend to think his son’s spirit were any less enraged than they were in life, or think them satisfied with having given their life for a cause so against their own. Survival had been their way of fighting against the odds, the fact they’d lived after every fight, every punishment, had been a foil to the Legion’s wishes. But death had put a stop to that. Death had freed his son’s decanus of a “bad seed”, one less “wildling” to worry about when there were many like Cicero or Vulpes to contend with. Hortensius struggled to keep thinking in this way. If Aster’s dying had done even a single person of the Legion a modicum of good, then he’d have to count his son’s death a shameful one. Another failure. 

What had been the point in their surrender anyway? Decanus Hortensius moved to his bed as if lost in a haze, and looked up at the red burlap ceiling of his tent. He thought back to their last night as a free tribe, and on the words of their elders. There was rebellion in survival, if they held on long enough they would someday outlive the red flames of the Legion. Though the bulls were strong, stronger still was the good in the rest of the world. Hortensius had understood the wisdom in their message then, but years spent in the service of beasts had weakened his resolve to the point of finding the good as well as the evil in it. To win they would have to be patient, and with that resolve they had survived and shown themselves stronger than any of the weapons turned against them. But how deep were the scars, and how lasting! The youths of his people were reduced to pawns, and the best of his generation were made into war criminals like himself. Pillagers, raiders, scourges of the earth. People he’d known for years were newly made strangers under the influence of starvation, thirst and oppression. So many had forgotten their old names in favor of appeasing the census dogs that patrolled the streets and kept tabs on all the annexed tribes. It was harder now, more than ever, to remember why they had actually chosen to live.

Aster, you see me now from your place in the Far Away. Can’t you tell me what you know? 

The tears finally came as he tried to think of his Aster standing beside the spirits of his father and grandfather. They would have to guide his son in whatever he had failed. Even in the Far Away they would have to be raised, and he was glad they had found themselves once more in the company of their heroes. Though strangely enough, the image of that blessed meeting remained foggy in his mind, as if drowned into obscurity by the sheer force of his weeping. His body seemed to refuse it like a bad herb. Instead, his thoughts shot in the opposite direction, and where his son had stood were now the children fallen into rank in his encampment. 

Tribeless, parentless, with no hope of a better tomorrow, these were the children the red armies had spat out from the corpses of worthier people. They were miserable creatures with newly given names they could hardly pronounce for themselves. He’d never seen children in the service of war before joining the Legion, and could scarcely provide the heartlessness it took to train them. Hortensius avoided looking at them, in fact, and delegated that charge as often as he could to the rest of his command. But even his ignorance of their presence couldn’t save him from the painful sight of their bodies, or the knowledge that he had played a role in their demise. For every cog in the machine, no matter how small, was implicated in the disposal of these children. 

Then as he imagined them in Aster’s place, he feared they would tell his son of his negligence and of his shirking responsibility. It was to Decanus Hortensius they were assigned and not his second in command. But how could a man be a father and a guide to children he hadn’t sired? They were strange, frightening even, and fragile in ways that depressed his heart. None of them were ready to face violence on the battlefield, and those who’d survived up to this point had done it through chance alone. Despite what the Legion would have everyone believe, weapons were made out of metal, not brittled flesh.

Though was that enough to justify abandoning his post? They, like his son, had been someone’s heir once. 

In a way, Hortensius had denied these children of fatherly guidance, and as sick recompense he was denied a son. No longer would he be a real father to anyone, he would refuse to produce an heir and pretend infertility if questioned. Make another son? (For them to die? For them to pointlessly toil like these children?) It was out of the realm of possibility, he’d had his chance and with it he paid for his own crimes. He’d taken his position as decanus and his responsibilities to the soldiers entirely for granted. To his son, he’d shown himself a coward on the day of their surrender, and to these children he’d revealed himself an incompetent leader. This had been his comeuppance for forgetting the wisdom of his elders and faltering where he should have ardently rebelled. 

Everything was suddenly so clear. Hortensius began to understand why he saw these children in the place of his son. He had marked these boys as strangers out of the bounds of his past tribe. But where was his tribe now? A powerless people, scattered throughout the entire state of Arizona, their name an illicit whisper in the dark. How could he pretend to hold himself in higher regard than the orphans left behind in the bull’s passing? Wasn’t he also tribeless, parentless, with no hope of a better tomorrow? He’d blinded himself to the fact that all children were everyone’s charge, that no baby had cried any different to his own. Why hadn’t he seen this before? He wept into the coarse fabric of his cot and clenched his fists until they drew blood. The elders had told them to survive, but not alone. 

Aster shouldn’t have had to die for him to learn this lesson. It shouldn’t have come this far, yet he would work the rest of his life if it meant making amends for his cruelty. If his son watched him from the Far Away, then he wouldn’t give them any more cause for shame or disappointment. To the boys in his encampment, he owed a lifetime of service. They should survive long enough to see what his son couldn’t. 

The fall of the Legion couldn’t be enjoyed from the seat of death, only by living could they feel the retribution from a life rotted with grief. They will survive. From the strongest to the weakest, they will all survive. He swore by the blood under his nails and the persistence of his beating heart, that he would see every one of them alive and strong enough to fight. Even strong enough to turn against the hands that trained them.

[the-littlest-kojin]

OC game

Got tagged by @mimble-sparklepudding

favorite oc - Shio Shinju - always my main for a reason

newest oc- Newest I’ve put up on the blog? Gwyn. Newest counting ones I’ve not published yet? Florus Amaga.

oldest oc- Shio, technically. Unless you mean oldest in terms of in-universe age, in which case, Kolokasia

meanest oc - Taraine

softest oc - Gloyn

most aloof/standoffish oc - Nahla

dumbest (affectionate) oc - Depends how you measure - Gloyn, Khusel, Alha, all candidates. I’d probably say Alha on the whole

smartest oc - Conroy

horniest oc - Elucia

oc you’d bang - None of them, but that’s because I’m not attracted to my own characters

oc you’d be best friends with irl - None of them, but that’s because of my position on my own characters

Tagging - I never know who to tag. My anxiety is too high. Everybody reading this, please take this as a tag.

[tatumrileyslover]

Capital Don’t Cry

Summary: Sejanus is tasked with mentoring the District Two female tribute, but plot twist :0 they’re childhood besties

Pairing: Sejanus Plinth x Fem!District Two!Reader

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: District Two reader, the reader is also very Lucy gray coded, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst, reader is close to Lucy gray, Sejanus is just depressed about the games, mentions of death, corpses and shit. It’s the hunger games you should know. Also Arachne Crane doesn’t die because she’s the perfect bitchy character.

a/n: ok so this took forever to write because I keep procrastinating on my college essays, I will write more the second I finish I promise, also there’s was a part I genuinely wanted to make this a Lucy gray x reader cuz I’m in love, it could definitely do with a part two, so I could do that as well. anyway, enjoy.

edit: I will be doing a part two, if you want to be tagged comment below :P

Part 2 / Part 3

Sejanus grimaced as the day of the Reaping unfolded in the Capitol—the day he detested the most ever since he arrived at the Capital. The bitter taste of discontent lingered as he witnessed children, once familiar faces, thrust into a deadly game for the Capitol's perverse satisfaction. The familiarity of their faces etched in agony weighed heavily on him, casting a somber shadow over the gaudy spectacle. The games weren't just a grim tradition; they were a painful reminder of the twisted reality the Capitol government revelled in, turning the murder of their own country's children into a spectacle of survival.

As he stood in Heavensbee Hall, jaw clenched as Dean Casca Highbottom, doped up on morphling, announced that, to engage the citizens of the Capital, that the top twenty four students of Academy would mentor this years tributes. Sejanus turned to look at his "fellow" classmates who immediately began talk of what tribute they wanted to have.

As they discussed, Festus Creed chimed in, "I'm hoping for a strong one from the outer districts, someone who can actually fight."

"Absolutely, a boy with charisma. Then they'll be able to capture the audience attention and fight." Persephone Price contributed with a giggle.

Arachne Crane butted in with a disgusted tone, "Ugh, imagine being stuck with a Tribute Twelve runt, especially if it's a girl. That's a disaster waiting to happen."

The disdainful chatter, especially Arachne Crane's complaints, reinforced his stark realization—he was in no way a part of the Capitol. In moments like this is when it solidified to him, that he was in no way shape or form Capital. Seeking solace, he turned to the only person he trusted in the room; Coriolanus Snow, who remained stiff as a board. Despite the abrupt change of plans for the acclaimed plinth prize, Sejanus couldn't discern any emotion on Coryo's stoic face. Perhaps, with the Snows' wealth, the prize held little allure, especially for someone known for his lavish breakfasts, despite his lanky frame.

As he settled into his assigned seat, Sejanus felt a rising frustration; the atmosphere was suffocating, everyone treating the tributes as if they were animals for the slaughter. Disgusted with his forced company, he yearned to be back in District Two with his Ma, missing the familiarity of friends and the understanding community. As the Dean called out the District One tributes and mentors, Sejanus prayed he wouldn't recognize anyone from Two this year. The thought of witnessing someone he knew die for a senseless punishment, that he had to train them for, weighed heavily on his heart.

His heart stopped when Dean Highbottom announced the male tribute for District Two, and Sejanus held his breath. Florus Friend was the mentor. Sejanus lifted his eyes off the floor and glanced at the giant screen in the front of the room, there walking up to the stage in front of the city hall was Marcus. Sejanus's hands clenched into fists, jaw tightened. He didn't even have time to process his grief when he heard his name.

Dean Casca Highbottom chuckled, "Sejanus Plinth, mentoring the District Two tribute. A twist of fate, or perhaps Capitol whimsy? We'll see how you handle it."

The color drained from his face, leaving him white as a sheet. This was most definitely the work of his father, bribing the Dean to trying to desensitise him to the murder of his own people.

There, defiantly being dragged to the stage by peacekeepers, was her. The girl he used to play with at the base of the mountains, who would end up covered in dirt after their climbs. The same girl who helped his Ma bake sweets and cookies whenever time allowed. The girl he confided in when he found out about moving to the capital. The girl who gave him the same metal bracelet now clasped to his wrist since he left Two.

A stern, stoic look overcame her immediate shock. She pushed herself out of the peacekeepers' grasp, "I can walk by myself!" Ignoring her, they continued pushing her toward the stage, resulting in a stumble at the stairs. Marcus rushed over, aiding her to her feet. Sejanus fought to maintain neutrality, concealing his anguish from the observant students. He could feel the eyes boring into the back of his head. Before the screen cut away to District Three, both tributes, who had befriended Sejanus in his youth, stood hand in hand, as the blood from her palms slowly dripped onto the concrete stage.

Sejanus lay in his bed, a plush feather comforter of depression pulling him deeper into its grasp. His gaze remained fixated on the ostentatious wallpaper. The vivid display of the opulence surrounding him, the ornate patterns seemed to mock him, each swirl and curve whispering tales of the Capitol's excesses. He yearned for his childhood, a life of carelessness and freedom. A life before the war.

As Sejanus lay in his somber state, the familiar scent wafted into the room. The aroma wrapped around him like a comforting embrace, triggering memories of simpler times. Tears welled up in his eyes unconsciously, he just wished he could close his eyes and go back to District Two. Not that it would make much of a difference, both of his friends had their fates set in stone.

A sudden knock on the door jolted Sejanus out of his melancholy. In a reflex, he hastily wiped away his tears, his heart pounding with the fear that it might be his father. Both of them had gotten into an argument the moment he had gotten home.

"Sejanus, this is a monumental opportunity for you. A chance for our family to assert its place. Ensure your tribute emerges victorious."

Every day, Sejanus witnessed his father striving to assimilate into Capitol society. Yet, despite the effort, the only thing perceived was his wealth. Not a single Capital citizen would ever see the Plinths as Capital, regardless of his fathers hopeless attempts.

Slowly he glanced at his father disgusted at his choice of wording, "Tribute?"

His fathers face never altered as he spoke, "Yes, if your help your tribute win, you'll be accept-"

"Use her name, you know it!" Sejanus screamed enraged, "Is that all she is to you now, just a tribute! A girl who has known us her entire life. The girl who lived under our roof when her father was hung for his crimes against the Capital. The girl you used to tease me about becoming your future daughter-in-law."

Sejanus trembled with anger, his words escaping in gasps.

"Is that all she is to you, just another piece of meat to die for the sins of the districts?"

Sejanus threw his satchel to the floor, in a desperate attempt to escape the tense atmosphere in their kitchen. His father seized his arms tightly, but Sejanus ripped his arm free. "Don't touch me!"

As the door creaked open, relief flooded over him when he saw his Ma's face. Slowly he sunk back into his sheets. She quietly approached, taking a seat by his feet. "I made you some cookies, just like we used to make back at home," her eyes swept over his weary face. Puffy and red, his eyes brimmed with tears, streaking down his blotchy cheeks. His beautiful black curls clung to his forehead, and with gentle hands, she swiped them away. Sejanus nuzzled into the warmth of her hand—she was the only connection he had to his home.

Sejanus's voice croaked as he attempted to speak, shattered from his cries of anguish. "That could have been me, Ma." She swiped the tears that continued to fall from the corners of his eyes. She continued to try and comfort him as he voiced his thoughts.

"Ma, I haven't seen her since I left and now that I get to see her again, I'm being forced to watch her get murdered," his finger scratched at his eyes as he continued to cry. "I don't think I can do it,"

She sighed softly, contemplating how to ease his pain. Gently holding his wrists, she sought his attention.

"If I was in her position, Sejanus, I'd be scared," she sighed, searching for words to console her son. "I know, for me at least, seeing a familiar face fighting for me on the outside would give me hope, and I know when she sees you she'll feel more at ease. Give her something to live for Sejanus."

As he stood outside of the zoo, clutching a bag of sandwiches his Ma had made for every tribute, butterflies erupted in his stomach. His nerves had taken over at the thought of meeting his old friends this way. Would she even remember him?

Sejanus didn't need any help navigating his way around the zoo, crowds had gathered around the cage, although they kept their distance. Lucky Flickerman stood in the center of the crowd, doing some type of weather forecast. Sejanus spotted Coryo standing by the edge of the cage, alongside his tribute, Lucy Gray Baird. She stood talking to the Capital children that stood near them, complimenting them.

Sejanus eyes scanned the area. Tributes sat scattered around the brush and rocks. He searched the entire cage trying to find his tribute.

His girl.

His eyes were drawn to Marcus first, his dark frame was perched attentively on a rock, his eyes were like a vigilant hawk, his gaze protective and distrustful, as he kept his eyes on all the tributes. In his arms, was (Y/n). Her head rested on Marcus's shoulder, basking in what she presumed would be her final days in sunlight. Sejanus's heart dropped seeing them like this.

"(Y/n)!"

Her head immediately sprung off Marcus's shoulder as she searched for the source of the sound. A perplexed look spread across their faces.

"Marcus, over here!"

When their eyes met, Sejanus swore he felt his heart stop, after the multiple years apart he still felt the same way he did when he was a child. A bright smile etched its way upon her lips, as she attempted to get up from the rock. Marcus pulled her down to whisper something in her ear, she quickly brushed him off, making her way down the steep rock. Not seeing Marcus reaching out in an attempt to restrain her.

She sprinted to the cage, reaching her hands past the bars, her rough, scabbed hands grasping at his face. "Is that really you, Sejanus?" The harsh skin scratched over his face as she tightly gripped him, desperately examining his features with frantic eyes. His hand raised to cover hers with a nod, the sleeve of his uniform falling slightly, catching a subtle glint of sunlight on metal. Intrigued, her eyes followed the glimmer, discovering the metal bracelet she had crafted for him when they were kids. Her eyes glazed over slightly as her left hand moved to examine the polished steel.

"I can't believe you still have it," she smiled up at him, his tall frame casting her in shadow from the blazing sun. He removed her hand from his face, grasping it tightly. His finger grazed over cold metal on her wrist, and glancing down, he saw it—she continued to wear her own bracelet. Unlike his, the metal was rusted from wear, fitting too tightly over her wrist. Sejanus couldn't help but frown, feeling like it was his fault that she ended up here.

As she observed the distress enveloping him, wearied by the weight of her situation, she felt a growing exhaustion with the constant sympathy that surrounded her.

"Are you my mentor, Sejanus?" She questioned him softly, attempting to get him to talk to her. He snapped out of his dazed state confused how she knew, "huh?"

She giggled shaking his hand a little, "I was speaking to Lucy Gray, she said that we all have mentors apparently. I think that man she's speaking to is hers," Sejanus glanced over at Coriolanus who was crouched down next to the bars as he spoke with Lucy Gray.

"Yeah, that's Coryo. He's my friend from the Academy," Sejanus said, glancing back at her. Despite her slightly gaunt appearance, she had grown into her beauty. Her eyes shone despite the challenges she was facing. He hadn't realized how resilient she was. (Y/n)'s eyes lingered on Coriolanus, a small smirk beginning to find its way onto her lips. She turned her head back to Sejanus.

"I'm glad you've made friends," he said, his head tilting to the side slightly, as if she were a puppy. "He's kind of cute, d'you think he'd think I'm pretty." Sejanus's face flushed pure red, out of shock and a bit of jealousy, his mouth agape. "I'm just kidding, Sej. I only have eyes for you."

Sejanus felt his cheeks get hotter; he didn't remember her being this forward when they were children. He stuttered slightly, unsure of how to address the comments before grasping the bag of sandwiches.

"Sit, sit, Ma made sandwiches for everybody, and she made a special one just for you and Marcus." Sejanus sat down, digging through the bag to find the sandwich his Ma made especially for her. (Y/n) sat down directly across from him, patiently awaiting the lovingly made food. While he searched, she asked him questions about his Ma and his father, his life in the Capital, and school. She could tell he missed home from the way he talked about the Capital— "cold and unlovable" and how "he'll never be seen as Capital" as he continued his attempt to find her food.

Eventually finding the sandwich with a little note from his Ma on the top, he handed it through the bars to her. "Tell your Ma, I said thanks. I haven't eaten since I left Two." She read the small note before beginning to devour her sandwich. She paused and glanced behind Sejanus who looked at her confused, until he saw a small shadow beside him. Turning around he saw a little girl in a emerald green dress. She couldn't have been older than six. (Y/n) waved to her, she waved back shyly, as (Y/n) complemented her beautiful dress.

Lucky Flickerman and his camera crew deftly captured the unfolding scene, gradually turning their focus to showcase the beautiful tribute from District Two, highlighting the connection between the two.

"Well, don't you just look like a princess," the little girl smiled softly, grasping onto her own dress, "I wish I had a dress that pretty,"

The girl cautiously walked towards the bars, standing next to Sejanus. (Y/n) turned to face he, giving her all of her attention, as if she was the only one there. That was something Sejanus always loved about her. Sejanus grasped onto (Y/n)s hands, sending her a small smile.

“Your dress is really pretty too,” softly moving her hands past the bars to brush her fingers against the soft tulle.

“You really think so?” (Y/n) couldn’t contain her smile, she’d always loved children. “My ma made this for me, when the final snow of winter melted of the mountain,” She could see Lucky Flickerman urging his cameramen to capture the scene in it’s entirety.

“It might not be as green as yours, but it’s to show that the snow will melt and the grass will grow tall again.”

Another child appeared out from behind Sejanus, clasping her hand over the slightly younger girl, pulling her away from the bars of the cage. She turned to Sejanus uttering a sentence before storming off with the smaller child. Sejanus didn’t even have to see (Y/n) face to see it drop.

"You shouldn't be feeding the animals."

Sejanus found himself in the back of the family car, immersed in thoughts of strategic tactics for (Y/n)'s survival in the games. He recognised her strong photographic memory, and with the meticulous examination of every inch of the arena, it could only be a advantage. Marcus, undeniably overprotective, was likely to form an alliance with her, the thought put him at ease. As beads of sweat formed on his forehead, the realization hit him — this could be the last time they ever saw each other after the games concluded. The weight of that impending separation lingered heavily in the confined space of the car.

He sighed deeply as the car slowed, stopping in front of a sport stadium, Sejanus briefly remembered Coryo mentioning something about an animal circus that performed there before the war. Even in the arena, the tributes would be seen as animals. He walked up the line, walking up to the front of the line where Marcus and (Y/n) stood, with Florus.

“Here’s some medicine for your hands,” Sejanus rattled around in his satchel, trying to find a pot of ointment he had brought, his finger grasped the corners. Pulling it out he unscrewed the lid, grabbing a generous amount on his fingers. “Make sure you apply it at least three time daily so it doesn’t get infected, and please make sure you use enough.”

She presented her palms as he ranted on, “I will, thanks Sejanus.” Taking the pot she shoved it into a pocket hidden somewhere among the layers and layers of green tulle.

"Any plans for how I'm going to win?" She playfully grasped onto his arm looking up with puppy dog eyes. His face faltered slightly but she picked up on it. Her arms fell by her side, "You do think I'm going to win, don't you?" Her jaw was clenched, her once round eyes flooding with betrayal. Sejanus turned to reassure her quickly, pulling her into his chest, resting his head on top of her own. "Of course I do,"

Before he could elaborate the peacekeepers ushered them towards the enterance. Giant gates and turnstiles guarded the way inside. She could finally feel the nerves catching up. Her fingers quickly found their way into Sejanus's. The warmth he provided gave a temporary comfort, she knew as long as he was responsible for her, she'd live. As the tributes and their mentors began walking through the turnstiles, a loud voice emanated from the walls.

"Enjoy the show!"

The first few people slowed, glancing around for the source of the noise.

"Enjoy the show!"

(Y/n) tried her hardest to hold back her laughter, Sejanus glanced at her, confused at what she found humorous about this scenario

"A bit ironic, isn't it. It's like they built this arena just for us."

"Enjoy the show!"

The arena was big, a small pile of rubble was clumped in the center, where Sejanus presumed would be filed with weapon the next day. Seats lined all the walls of the arena, there were boxes at the top, that were most likely used for the wealthy in its heyday. It seemed scalable, and from all their time in their youth spent, scaling and rock climbing, he didn't doubt she could make her way up there.

He innocuously bumped her shoulder, making small gestures towards the boxes. She gazed at them and smiled.

"We should look around more just in case, not a very smart move after the initial fight."

The more they looked around the more concerned Sejanus got. The arena has almost no place to hide, Sejanus felt there would only be the initial battle before someone's eventual victory. He doubted that the Victory would be (Y/n)s, not with Reaper, Jessup, and Coral and her group.

Sejanus was shaken from his thought when he realised that (Y/n) wasn’t by his side. He turned examining the room trying to find her. A spot of green caught his eye, (Y/n) stood by the center of the arena. She was deep in conversation with Lucy Gray, whispering something in her ear and pushing something into her hand, as Lucy Gray nodded happily. Coriolanus wasn’t far behind the two, sending Sejanus a confused look. Whatever the two girls had planned, they didn’t seem to tell Coriolanus either.

(Y/n) turned around, rushing back to Sejanus’s side. Her dress flowing behind her. “Sorry I took so long, I just had to discuss something with Lucy Gray,”

She smiled softly at him, sliding her hand back into his own, “Since Lucy Gray and I get along so well, we decided to have an alliance. And since we both have big strong boys, who are willing to protect us. We’ve decided it’s best to stick together, at least at the start”

“You’re really smart, you know.” he squeezed her hand tighter.

“Listen (Y/n), I-“ he cut himself off when he felt a rumble beneath his feet, throwing him off balance. He heard a bomb go off and in seconds both of them were thrown to the ground. Everything went white for a sliver of time. Sejanus looked up and saw the roof of the building beginning to collapse in, he grabbed (Y/n)s hand to pull her to safety. He heard a loud grunt behind him, as shadows hastily ran past him towards the exit, he could vaguely hear the sounds of shouting and gunshots over the harsh ringing of his ears.

It was a group of tributes attempting to escape.

Sejanus turned his head to where he last saw Florus and Marcus standing, Florus had been working to try and get some type of alliance together. The two boys hadn't been far behind them, just near the stands. Florus lay on the floor, a large piece of rubble had fallen on top of his chest and across his feet. (Y/n) was on her feet rushing over to help him get it off. Most of the concrete had fallen, but the structure was extremely unstable, Sejanus needed to get her out as fast as he could.

A group of peacekeepers rushed to their side, most of them attempted to lift the rubble from Florus, though it proved to be a challenge. Sejanus grabbed (Y/n)s hand again, the wounds on her palms had reopened while she dug through the rubble to try help Florus. The blood made it hard to keep a solid grip but he pulled her along as fast as he could towards the entrance where the other mentors stood. He quickly manoeuvred her to sit down, examining her to make sure she wasn’t hurt anywhere else.

“I’m ok,” she pulled his hands away from her face, her face being stained with the blood of her hands. “Where’s Marcus, is he still in there?”

Sejanus sighed, he couldn’t imagine what was going to happen to him, he wouldn’t be able to outrun the Capital.

“He escaped.”

The aftermath of the bombing was catastrophic, The Ring twins and their tributes were both killed on impact. They had been up by the stands when the bomb went off. Both of the District Ones tributes alongside Marcus tried to escape, being shot at by the peacekeepers. Only Marcus managed to escape. Five tributes and two mentors dead, and the games hadn’t even begun. Sejanus hadn’t even begun to think of all the injured. Almost everyone there was hurt in some way, with the tributes being carted back to the zoo to be treated by the in-house veterinarian.

Coriolanus had gotten the brunt of blast that come from the cornucopia. Shielding Lucy Gray from the initial shockwave, which let her drag him from the falling rubble-so he didn’t end up like Florus had. Sejanus attempted to visit the zoo to thank her for saving his friend and to give the both of them some food but peacekeepers had the place closed down to the public. “Strict instructions from Dr. Gaul.”

As the Ring twins had their funeral, the capital decided to parade the dead tributes, two more of which had died through the night, through the streets. His eyes scanned through the tributes, he still hadn’t seen Marcus, he must’ve gotten out of the Capital somehow if he hadn’t been caught. Sejanus began to feel sick imagining what would happen if he got caught, if this is how they were desecrating the corpses of the dead tributes.

Two cages followed them, the tributes were separated by sex. Marcus wasn’t in there either. Glancing into the female cage, he spotted (Y/n) sat in the corner, holding Lucy Gray tightly to her chest, hiding her face in her hair. They were being flaunted to the Capital citizens. His classmates surrounded him, most of them mournful. As the dead tributes were dragged closer to the group, a smiling face caught his attention. Arachne Crane, sat with a callous smile, her true nature unveiled in the heartless moment. Arachne Crane was the exact type of person the games appealed to. The Capital wouldn’t cry for anything if it didn’t involve themselves.

The next few days were a blur to Sejanus, the stress of it all. Worrying for Marcus’s well-being, helping with strategies, and the thought of the games was too much for him to handle. He couldn’t remember much of the interviews, they had implemented a new sponsorship feature where the citizens could give the tributes gifts. (Y/n) having a talent for sewing, talked about dresses she had made, and went into the story behind her own.

“-and I’m very privileged to be able witness the beautiful fashion here in the capital, it’s inspired me quite a bit,” she said to the cameras as Lucky Flickerman, who had a grin painted onto his face, asked her if she had any final words she wanted to say.

There was a pregnant pause, the studio fell into silence for a brief moment. Sejanus looked over at her, reaching his hand over to comfort her own. Her mask had begun to crack, “final words?”

Lucky nodded happily, gesturing to the camera to make sure they were getting the shot.

"I-ugh…I don’t know what to say," she stammered, her voice trembling with the weight of impending finality. Desperation clouded her eyes as she turned to Sejanus, seeking solace in his familiar gaze. He, however, stood frozen in place, his entire being paralyzed by the realization that these might not only be her last words to the heartless Capital but also her farewell to him.

In that haunting moment, their eyes locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes of unspoken fears. Sejanus felt the grip of fear and helplessness tightening around his chest, In response, he managed to summon a small, almost imperceptible nod of reassurance. Amidst the shadow of impending doom, he needed her to find strength within herself, to muster the courage to face the horrors of the arena.

His silent plea echoed in that nod—a desperate, unspoken urging for her to believe in her own resilience, to fight fiercely for her life within those ruthless confines. For Sejanus, it wasn't just a wish; it was a desperate need, a fervent desire for her survival that resonated in the silent exchanges of their haunted gaze. He needed her to live, not just for herself but for the fragile hope that flickered within the recesses of his heart.

As Lucky Flickerman began to move on, finalizing the end of the segment, Sejanus found himself unable to tear his eyes away from hers. In the depth of her gaze, he glimpsed the raw, unfiltered fear that gripped her.

The loud stomping of boots drew her attention away from Sejanus, and immediately, she was engulfed by peacekeepers who forcefully pulled her back toward the transport car they had arrived in. She struggled against their relentless grip, her desperate gaze reaching out for Sejanus, who stood frozen—his entire being paralyzed by the tumultuous emotions coursing through him.

The overwhelming cacophony of boots on hardwood, the grating noise of Lucky Flickerman's voice, and the clattering of heavy filming machinery being rearranged drowned out (Y/n)'s cries for him, leaving Sejanus trapped in a haunting symphony of despair.

Sejanus rushed to follow the peacekeepers toward the exit of the building, where (Y/n) was harshly thrown into the train car. Lucy Gray, helped her to her feet, delicately dusting off the back of her dress.

Tears cascaded down her cheeks as she gazed at him for the last time. She whispered a sentence, and before Sejanus could respond, the peacekeepers ruthlessly slammed the doors shut in his face. Sejanus breathed out,

"I love you too."

Taglist: @nolanbiigfishboi @0liveleaf @valterras @daisydark

[floru05]

I had this idea stuck in my head for a while, and I’ve been waiting to draw it.

The new episodes of Shaun the Sheep came out a few months ago, and I enjoyed it. One of the scenes reminded me of Zim and Dib, so I did a comic based on it.

I thought it be funny that if Dib ever took pictures or recorded a video of Zim getting wet in the rain without wearing layers of paste, Zim would get offended and ruin his evidence by wringing the water out of his wig and drip it into Dib’s camera.

Idk if his camera is actually waterproof in the show but eh.

Inspired by this scene (you probably can’t understand the context of this because the characters don’t talk):

This is from the episode “Room With a Ewe”. I had to record this on a video website because Netflix doesn’t allow recordings ack.

[teamyellremade]

hi i just spent some time developing florus’s backstory tonight so here it is

his interests include: botany, fortune-telling, fantasy, writing, origami and tea

aside from identifying plants, cold-reading and gardening, he’s good with diplomacy and smooth-talking people, as well as remembering things and acting

while he acts warm, nice and nonthreatening to your face, he has ears everywhere and is always listening.

regarding that last couple points, he keeps a diary of secrets that could absolutely ruin the reputation of nearly every person in a position of power

i really want to play him in a recurring dnd campaign at some point, but it’s hard finding them :-/ (esp since i’m not too fond of discord dnd.....)

[good-rwbyaus]

A.U. where Plant faunus things exist? Like, faunus but plants? Like a person with an attribute of a sunflower or something

Like Bulbasaur? HEck Yeah! That’s a heck of an AU! It’d change so much!

But just imagine them… The Florus!

[clockwork-sparrow]

your OC as the solar system

bold what applies - italicize sometimes - strike out never. tag some friends to play along! & repost don’t reblog!

SUN • egotistical • melted wax wings and fingers • stretching sunburnt skin • the most generous soul • blood in the fruit • halos • anger on fire • high vitality • thunderous laughter • is pride really a sin? • halogenic aura

MERCURY • expansion of the mind • silver-tongued • an everlasting wanderer • polyglot • high dexterity • handwritten letters • innately critical • en vogue • eyes in the trees • hidden libraries • there’s always room for improvement

VENUS • in love with strangers • iridescent waters • love potions for your mirror • selfless devotion • shattering crystal • seafoam upon sand • the golden ratio • drowning in your own passion • material value & high principles • luring • plush lips

EARTH • fresh springs • tree hugger • we can start again tomorrow • a blazing rainforest • respects survival of the fittest • nature’s adversity • lazy bones • constantly evolving • flowers sprouting from wounds • a granite altar • fossilized remains

MOON • illusory • silver shimmer off the ocean • secrets and gossip • cycles of reincarnation • a crybaby • physically ethereal • shared glances with a stranger • cat eyes • mistrusting their intuition • fear is a prison • ornate magic wands

MARS • healthy competition • attraction and repulsion • magma and rubies • a blade being forged • wrath wrath wrath • malefic • intense eye contact • cannon fodder & fireworks • blood floods • copper taste on your tongue

JUPITER • red robes and a suit of armor • beacon of stability • leader by birth • thunderbolts and lightning • guilty but can’t stop • secret rich kid • golden touch golden tears • innate optimist • failure isn’t an option • constantly reaching for more • unfinished symphonies  

SATURN • traditional • overbearing energy • a sculptor of reality • this existence is a karmic one • has a heart it’s just.. way down deep • law, order & justice • avoid all necessary risk • the sound of shackles clanging • sisyphus’ struggle • grappling with the reality of time • self-governing

URANUS • psychedelic funk music • overflowing cups • a rebellion with skin • looking good in photo id • oblivious but caring • middle fingers in the air • double rainbows • icy diamond exterior • holographic • afraid of their own mediocrity • pearlescent smoke

NEPTUNE • an elegy for the lost • dissolving boundaries • white horses • the burden of mystical conditions • deceptive • escapism is their reality • a polarizing entity • artists soul • paranoia • searching for the unseen • a siren’s swan song

PLUTO • angel statues over graves • power ��� the cycle of necrosis • transformative • unfathomable depths • an ivory tower toppling over • screaming at the sky • violets and irises • eclipsed darkness • speaks with their shadow • sex, death, rebirth

tagged by: @rhotanored​ (Ty!!)

tagging: @rhotdornn @high-and-away @endangered-liaison @furymint @sergiusreports​ @the-wardens-torch​ and anyone else!!

[catilinas]

florus 1.40.18-9 trans. e.s. forster

[sergiusreports]

Accelerating Change

It was dark by the time I had made it to this lonely corner of the Shroud. Most people weren’t stupid enough to venture this deep into the forest. They left it alone. They’d say it was infested with sylphs. Infested. Like it wasn’t the other way around. Twin Adders’ didn’t patrol here. Even the clans steered clear. It didn’t take long to figure out why. There was a strange energy that hummed in the air. The kind that would give spoken goosebumps. All I knew was that it dampened any sort of signal. I could get a read on my network but it was spotty. Constantly dropping in and out. Right now, that was fine by me. I didn’t come out here to stay in touch with whatever shitstorm was happening at Heartwood and I had let Zephyr know it was only temporary. The last thing they needed was another bot dropping communication on them unexpectedly. 

The moonlight punched through the thick canopy in places, enough to intermittently wash out my night vision but not enough to switch fully back to standard mode. In the crook of my arm I held all that remained of Bellator. A grooved, synthetic auracite core. Because in the end, that’s all we were. Put us into whatever framework or chassis you wanted. It was all window dressing. Like how a child plays dress up with dolls. 

I sound glib. I’m not. All the way through tracking Crific, through meeting him, through taking the core Haila had entrusted to him and now traipsing through this thicket, I feel…shit, too much. Emotions that haven’t been cataloged yet and some that have. Anger. That’s number one. Right at the top of the list. Heaps of useless hellish anger but even I can parse that’s an umbrella. Covering over other things I don’t want to analyze. 

I’m getting closer to my destination. A few of the sylph duck out from the trees and come to investigate. I’m not concerned. They’ve known me a long time. 

“Broken one.” one of them greets me. That’s the name they saddled me with when I first came here. I was damaged. It’s stuck. Or maybe they feel it’s still applicable, who the hell knows. Tonight, they wouldn’t be wrong. 

“This one thinks it’s strange to see you again so soon.” 

“Strange and unplanned.” I concur. If that wasn’t the tag line for my existence, I don’t know what was.

“What did Broken one bring the sleepless ones?” Another asked as they swooped down and landed on the rippled surface of the core. Tiny, twiggy fingers run along the undulating grooves as if trying to solve a puzzle. 

I don’t brush them away. They’ve done too much for me. “Someone who’s been hurt.” 

“Broken like Broken one?” 

“Let’s hope not.”

They keep up a steady stream of chatter as they hitch a ride all the way to the black site. Just before I activate the lift hidden under a layer of moss and forest debris, they float off in the night. Happy to let me get on with whatever I was doing. I’m lucky. Sometimes they can be worse. The lift lowers me into the underground bunker.

When I had constructed it, Garlean architecture was what I knew. Maybe in some twisted way I wanted the perverse comfort of the hydraulic lift lowering me down to the thick metal walls below like it had hundreds of times before in the research facility. It was familiar when everything around me was not. Now though, something unidentified churns through my neural net. The fact that I’ve felt it before isn’t enough to save it from being unknown. I’m really shit when it comes to doing the work of cataloging these things. Right now, I try. I stand there on the lift and try to put some descriptors to it. It felt dense. Lines crossed and synesthesia took over. It tasted green. Looked dark, like a low, vibrating wave of sound maddeningly off pitch. Something to be ejected. My vocab subroutine found several possible entries. I settled on loathing. This was loathing. For this place. For Florus. For myself. 

Backburning emotions was not as easy as backburning system alerts and protocols, I had learned. They could hang around for an annoying amount of time before dissipating. I still hadn’t figured out the ruleset which determined exactly how long. Sometimes they were nothing more than a flash, other times they seemed like they had got caught in a neverending feedback loop and stalled. Except there was no end program function. 

Signals didn’t get out of this place. They didn’t get in, either. I was invisible here. The trade-off was I was also deaf, dumb and blind as any spoken without my network. LAN only. I went from, on average, twenty streams of input cut down to just one. I couldn’t see behind me without turning my head. It was weird and I didn’t like it. But it was safe. 

Lights flickered to life as the sensors picked up my presence and lit up the station like a fucked up ‘welcome home’. I made my way across the room to the massive terminal and set Bellator carefully down on the steel surface. Now what? 

I didn’t have an end game here. They were child A.I. And maybe they would grow quickly and exponentially, the way all tech advanced but what did I know about serving as a stand-in parental unit? I was a combat bot. All I knew was that I sure as hell wasn’t taking Bellator back to Heartwood. I’d be an idiot. And after hearing what Crific had to say, it was bad enough I had to leave Zephyr there. Sitting on the edge of the terminal, next to the core, I stared out across the bunker. 

Action hadn’t worked last time. I jumped the gun, raced ahead and acted. And in the end? They were slaughtered. Every single one of them. Injured, women, children. It hadn’t mattered. There was no limit to the atrocities spoken will inflict on each other. A carousel of misery. The shittiest festival ride. 

So this time, I had told myself not to act. To watch. To wait. Observe. Inaction. And here we are. Most of the A11Ys destroyed. Bellator was saved only by Haila’s quick thinking. Zephyr had lost core memories. Because I let myself believe what Florus had said and never projected he’d do this. What the hell was wrong with me? 

Action. Inaction. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t get it right.  

I turned to look down at the core. “I won’t let it happen again.” I told Bellator. Sure, I had not a damned clue how to do that but it was a binary decision. There were only two options. Everything else could be solved for as it happened. Like the big damned question about how to hide warmachina from the Alliance. I wasn’t Florus. I wouldn’t keep them grounded to a bunker. One problem set at a time.

I figured I could seat Bellator in the terminal for the time being and at least set up a feed between us. If I brought a drone, they could patch into that on the LAN as well. It would have to do for now. I needed a few things first. 

When I emerged from the bunker and ventured out of the depths of the Shroud I had a priority message pinging back from Aislinn’s terminal. Short and to the point. 

//Where are you? The Ironworks is coming to take Zephyr.//

The fuck they were. 

[writingamongther0ses]

Name Meaning

Thanks for the tag, @ellaofoakhill! Bride of Loki characters, the main cast so far...

Siv

Her surname means “bride” in old Norse and is also a spelling of the name of Thor’s wife. Her first name is unknown.

Mabelle Florus

Mabelle means “lovable” while Florus, a Latin word for “flower” is a reference to her plant control.

Kari Brynhildr

His surname is a reference to the Ring saga’s main female character, a shieldmaiden of Odin’s. His first name means “wind”

Miks Strand

Miks is a Lativian name meaning “who is like God” as a spin-off of Michael. His surname means “beach.”

I’ll tag, with no pressure, @fields-of-ink, @ink-cabre, @writingbyricochet, @sleepyowlwrites, and @ashen-crest.

[writingamongtheroses-archive]

Bride of Loki

WIP Re-Intro

In the fine year of 2021, I’m deciding to reintroduce my main WIP...just because.

Genre:

Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Myth, Sci-Fantasy

Status:

Second draft editing first book

Themes/Tags:

Temporary character death, death, blood, body horror, sci-fi violence, fantasy violence, female Asian MC, mixed cast, Norse mythology, LGBTQ+, mentions of mental illness, self-blaming, panic, anxiety, magic, manipulation, strangers to friends(?), siblings, space, sci-fi, fantasy, myth, possession.

Synopsis:

Centuries after the world began anew after the Last Battle of Ragnarok, what begins as a regular principal office visit for a schoolgirl named Siv quickly turns to her barely escaping her education planet’s destruction with her schoolmate Mabelle Florus and a mysterious boy named Kari. A fight between Mabelle and Kari crashes the spaceship and Siv finds herself dead.

And finds the hallucination that has haunted her life is something entirely else. Now given new life and stuck with a pact with the dead trickster Loki, she must find the other gods with their hosts and bring down the rule of Baldar.

[floorune]

PINNED POST TIME... actually this is kinda outdated now i should really update it but – hello! you can call me floo or floru~ i’m an animator but i like to draw fanart (or whatever else) in my spare time

links: ✦ about using my art ✦ above artwork: 1 / 2 / 3

-

⬇️ click the tag below for my art! ⬇️