#ten bajillion years

[boopshoops]

I GAVE UP 🎉(kind of)

Yuu Shi Tapis Rouge/Luxe Couture

SO. The armature was a bust. Learning how to make one would take a shit ton of time and i just- would prefer to do that on my own terms without the looming feeling of- well, wanting to post her design all the time given its been finished for a WHILE.

To make up for it though, i made fake homescreen screenshots ig JFNDJDJD theyre not the best, but fuck it i think i replicated the twst style rather well.

Her outfit is based more around the same line Vil had, and I took a lot of inspiration from Gucci (pinterest, my saving grace yet again)

More under the cut! V

A vERY quick thing i made of another potential sprite, i'd imagine there'd be a toggle to take off the shawl. Also I did one of Yuu Shi in her more masc disguise! Yes. We keep the dress. 👏

After this I don't particularly have any new art planned for a second, I want to shift my focus to finishing wips/projects and resuming progress on TCOAV. So- hey! If you've yet to read and are interested, now may be a good time to start with chapter 6 on the way.

I've blabbed enough for today IFNFDNID

Tag list!!! Just ask if ya wanna be added 💕

@kitwasnothere @justm3di0cr3 @skriblee-ksk @lowcallyfruity @thehollowwriter

@distant-velleity @cecilebutcher

[paperibbon]

ink stained hand (will you hold it?)

chapter i: bookstore girls pairing: poly!feysand x reader series sum. A bookseller’s simple life turns upside down when she becomes fast companions of the Night Court’s Inner Circle. When she develops feelings for the most powerful couple in Prythian, how will she get over the golden thread of fate that pulls them ever so far apart?

The sun was high in the sky, and the sweat stuck to the back of your shirt with a vengeance, plastering the material to you like a second skin. As forgiving and endearing as summer was, children laughing in the streets, people bustling about in sheer, bright colors, the heat could be killer.

Especially waiting in lines like these. 

The queue snaked around the block, everyone from fae that lived on farmland outside of Velaris, to shopkeepers, to families of all shapes and sizes. You’d thought the heat might thin it out a bit, maybe send some people to find shelter and shade, to stand in front of an icebox maybe; but alas. It was just as long as it was a few hours ago. You clutched the papers you’d written up months prior to your chest, lifting your hair from your neck in an attempt to elicit some sort of cooling effect.

You, like many, many others were grateful to your High Lord, and newly minted High Lady for these meetings. Even if not everything was fixed, most people walked out with a respect you were sure you couldn’t say other courts held for their rulers. And the papers you’d slaved over, finding just the right words to propose your idea, well, you hoped they’d hear you out, if nothing else.

Smoothing down the front of your skirts, you surveyed the people in front of you. Three bodies. Three people. Three more appointments to suffer in the heat until you were face-to-face with people who could grant your dreams, or crush them kindly in their fists. Your heart stuttered, thick, humid air winding its way through your nose, and out. Two. Then, the curly haired fae with a sour expression on her pale blue face that had stood before you for the past three hours marched into the heavy open doors, and you were twisting your fingers in flighty anticipation. You couldn’t hear her voice, even at your proximity, and it relieved something in you to know that this wouldn’t leave this room. Your sorry request, your whimsical fantasy would stay stuck in the air between your High Lady, High Lord, and you.

The guard positioned at the gate gave you a wry smile, a rosy hue to her cheeks, the sweat slicking her orange hair to her brow. You were sure you looked similar, frazzled and sweaty, sickeningly anxious and delighted all at the same time.

“You’ll be fine.” Her voice was accented lightly, like nothing you’d ever heard before. You grew up here, in the Night Court, barely a child when Amarantha terrorized the land, now, a fully grown female with stars in her eyes.

You nodded your thanks. She simply smiled wider.

When the doors opened again and the fae from before walked out, a wind flirted across your cheeks curling in your hair. A greeting.

“First door on your left. Can’t miss it.” A smooth wink, and the door thumped shut behind you. 

The marble tiling was smooth, dark, and flecked with silver. How Night Court. You couldn’t stop your head from swiveling as you traversed the hall, ornate art hung on either side, a show of wealth, of power. You recognized some of the scenes, the High Lady fearlessly facing off against Hybern’s forces at the Rainbow, the Night Court’s general sweeping low onto the battlefield, the Lady’s sister, fearsome, cloaked in silver flames like a phoenix. Your eyes shifted towards the open doorway, thick wooden carvings of an animal you couldn’t place, scales expertly carved, fangs and talons almost as sharp as you’d imagine the creature carried in real life. Absently, your hand curled around a claw jutting from the frame, the stable wood almost warm beneath your fingers.

“Admiring the woodworking?” A soft voice cut through the silence, and you turned, abruptly, eyes wide. 

“I’m so sorry.” You stuttered, the words falling out without a thought. The High Lady was standing, a stunning lilac dress tailored to her form, golden and silver stars stitched delicately in sporadic patterns. A golden circlet, plain, yet stately sat at her raised brows, warm sea blue eyes crinkled into a smile. You balked, face pinching into an expression that could only be described as shameful, hands twisting in your old linen skirt, the drab color sticking out like a sore thumb. The High Lord was absent, the chair next to hers empty, but you felt no relief from that. The High Lady was just as imposing.

“Don’t be.” A flick of her wrist towards the chair across from them sent you into action, and you lowered yourself into the plush seat. “Would you like anything to drink or eat? How long have you been out there?”

Her voice seemed too perfect, too hypnotic for your ears. You found yourself blinking, twice, three times before you registered her question.

“I’m okay, truly.” Food would make you barf, so bad move there. From the looks of this place, any glass they’d offer you was likely three times the sum of your rent, and your shaking hands would send it shattering across the floor. “And not long, my lady.”

“Hm.” The sound was low, like the rumble of the ground beneath your feet, and your head felt inclined to dip. The High Lord was just as intimidating as you’d expected; dressed in all black, a matching circlet to his mate’s glinted in the faelight, his hands folded neatly into his pockets. “We don’t take kindly to liars.”

The expression that flickered across your face must have been comically scared, from the way the Lady’s eyes hardened to sheer ice.

“Rhys.” The lovely voice, the bells you would follow to the ends of the earth, possibly, shot out like a crop. 

The High Lord leveled you with a look that would have sent males twice your age running for the hills, and you thought about it. You considered hiking your skirts up, tucking your pitiful tail between your legs, and dashing out of here as fast as your legs could carry you. Instead, you smoothed out the papers in your hands, lowered your gaze, and began to read from the page.

“Thank you for your audience.” You began, eyes tracking your scribbling. “I wanted to first extend my gratitude for not only this moment, but the neverending support that you both have shown your people. I thank you for that.” A glance up, and your eyes connected with the starflecked violet gaze of your High Lord. Something in your gut twisted violently at his lowered brow, and your hand passed briefly over where your heart titered in your chest. “I here to ask for something that may be small to you, but is quite big to me.”

The rest of the words bleed together on the page in front of you, and with a sigh, you fold the paper along the edges, and cover the square with your palms. You know what you want, it swirls in your gut, tugs on your heart. It’s hanging from the biggest and brightest star, and this is the only chance you might have to dream for it, to hope that it might, one day, be real, might be a whisper of fruition eddying towards your open arms. 

“I’ve dreamed for my whole life that one day, I might make a difference. That someday, something might make me matter to someone.” Your voice teetered on breaking. “My mother and father are long gone. I have no brothers, no sisters. I don’t have many friends to speak of, and I’m sure I speak of them more than they speak of me. What I’m asking for is stupid, but to me, it’s a dream.” A saccharine smile aimed at your twisting hands, before your head pulls back to finally look at the two most powerful people you’ve ever known. “Have you ever had stupid dreams?”

The question hangs in the air like a feather. Your fingers flex, like you might reach out and snatch it back.

“No dream is stupid.” The High Lord’s eyes blink with stars. It’s mesmerizing. It’s terrifying. His gaze doesn’t stray from you, and it spreads a heat across the tip of your nose, peaking your ears. 

You pick at the edge of the paper neatly pressed to your thighs, peeling a corner back, folding it on the edge, and ripping along the seam as you swish your thoughts around in your head.

“This one might be.” Your smile is wistful, if not sad, like a flower blowing in the cold wind of winter, the laughter of a grown child. 

The scrape of a chair, and your High Lady has inched ever so close to you, her knees almost touching yours, the hazy purple gauze flirting against the skin of her legs as she shifts. It makes your heart beat that much quicker, her beauty, her close proximity, the power you feel rolling off her. You’ve been caught in storms before, but she’s like lightning itself. Soft, strong hands cup yours, and you almost jerk back out of sheer surprise, but the quirk of her lips makes your own soften into a smile.

“It’s okay to wish for silly things.” 

Years ago, you might have agreed with her.

Today, you aren’t so sure.

“High Lady, High Lord,” You say, eyes stuck on a freckle at the base of her thumb, tracing the lines of the jet black tattoo that curls up her wrist. “I want to find purpose.”

You could hear a pin drop.

The High Lady’s eyes glazed over, the stormy sea calming to a rolling fog. Daring a glance at the High Lord, you noticed a similar look in his eyes, the purple sky a calming shade of lilac, his eyes unfocused. You didn’t dare breathe, catching a gasp in your chest when they both finally resurfaced, a sharp snap in their gaze like you’d clicked your fingers for their attention. It was odd to have such resounding attention from two people who could crush the world around you with a blink, who could kill you without batting an eye. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, but you weren’t sure if it was terror, or great awe.

“That’s your wish?” The High Lord’s voice is startling all of a sudden, though you know it shouldn’t be. You blink, once, twice, and then nod, a simple strong shake of your head.

“That’s my wish.” You feel pitiful as you shrug your shoulders, but the High Lady squeezes your hands in hers. “I understand if you can’t grant it, I do. I greatly understand. In fact, I know you probably won’t be able to. And that’s alright with me. I’m just glad you’ve listened.”  It’s lighter than the rest of your conversation, the almost laughing tone your voice takes on. You pull back from the hands on top of yours, nodding gratefully. You hope you look sincere as you lower your head in a makeshift bow. “Thank you for that. For your hearts.”

You stood, not waiting for dismissal, which might have been a stupid decision. It might have cost you more than just pure embarrassment, the flush taking on a different, less welcome heat as it cloaked your shoulders and pressed into your chest. You did a poor curtsy, out of nothing more than a sorry excuse for respect to the two, and fled the room without a glance in either direction, even as something molten, something tight in your chest tugged away at you.

You didn’t even realize in your haste, the paper you’d meticulously, ever-so-carefully tended to for the last months had toppled to the floor, scrawled with sprawling words. 

Your wish.

-

The sun was still hot and high in the sky as you slunk into the shop, and the book you were using as a fan was doing nothing to combat the heat. Leaned against the entryway, holding the hair off the back of your neck and rapidly flapping the flimsy romance novel in your hand in hopes that even the smallest breeze would cool you down. The magic that typically kept the shop well ventilated was on the fritz, sending wayward gusts of air that ruffled through the pages on hand before stopping altogether, levitating teacups and coffee mugs in the air before dropping them and sending any liquid spilling onto the floor, opening and closing the curtains at will. 

“Hi, lovely!” The seamstress across the way waved at you with a lacy handkerchief, brown hair piled high on her head, a sheen of sweat dotted across her brow and smearing the silvery make-up she’d carefully used to decorate her eyes. 

“Hi, Dia.” You raised the book in greeting, letting your  hair drop from your hand. She sent you  a smile in greeting before escaping inside her shop, the wooden sign in her window swinging proudly from CLOSED to OPEN. 

With a great sigh, you tipped your head back and listened to the busy street with shut eyes. Children squealed on the street, couples tittered back and forth. Some called your name in greeting, and you waved lazily, eyes still shut, lulled into a sense of hazy drowsiness. Your flushed cheek pressed into the door sleepily, until a wet, cold object was shoved under your collar. 

Eyes flying open, the book fell to the floor, hands flinging to the back of your shirt, hopping from one foot to the next. Finally, the ice cube dropped from your dress to the floor, and you whirled on the culprit. 

“Sammy!” The accused giggled, eyes slit in amused mischief. “You pest!” 

Sammy was the delivery boy, and the bane of your existence. He was a child, only seventeen, with a boyish roundness to his cheeks and an inane personality that would make the sweetest person in Prythian think about bashing him on the head once or twice. It was his mission to make every day you lived harder than the last, but his mother, the owner of the neighboring bakery, thought it was because he fancied you a tad. You couldn’t tell if she was having a laugh, or had too much faith in her only child. You were much too old for him anyways.

“Who said I even did anything?” His blue lips pulled into a pout, his ears flicked and his red eyes widened like that of a street dog. “Mean, mean girl.”

Setting your jaw and bending down to swipe the book from the floor and make your way into the shop, you shot him a mean glare, something to make flowers wither, and little boys cry. He was standing by the back door, a sure sign that a shipment was docked, tightening the string on the front of his sleeveless tunic. Sliding behind the counter, leaving the book on the top, you moved around him to peer at what he’d delivered. 

It was a small box, unusual, but not uncommon, with a dainty golden lock holding it shut. You tilted your head around the boy, trying to get a better look at the thing. It was probably a special edition for one of our wealthier clients, but you hadn’t seen any sort of order like that go through in months, hadn’t heard a whisper of what this could even be. Without thinking, you started towards it out of sheer curiosity, but Sammy stepped in front of it with a sharp toothed grin and held his hand out.

“Payment first, please.” 

You rolled your eyes so hard, the planet did another spin.

“Greedy.”

Shouldering around him, you made your way to the lockbox and shook out a few gold pieces. His palm was cold and damp when you passed them over to him, and with a smirk like an alley cat, he disappeared down the alley and left you with the mysterious package. 

The box was ornate and wooden, the lock glinting on the outside with the winking of the sun through the windows. Approaching it with cautious curiosity, you reached out and grasped the lock, feeling its cool metal under my fingertips. Giving it a good tug, your feet slid out from under you, sending you sprawling to the floor in an instant; the box was heavy - like it was filled with a million rocks, ten ton weights, and a heavy book. Stretching your leg out towards the thing, you nudged it with the tip of your toe, hoping for some kind of movement but, alas - nothing. Abandoning caution, your leg reeled back and kicked the thing as hard as you could, only to be met with searing pain that reverberated through the bones of your shin. With a resigned huff,  you stood, brushing off dust from your skirt, and left it behind the counter with another, less fierce, more defiant kick for good measure.

Stupid thing. 

The box seemed to respond, the smallest of noises —the faint shuffle of the lock settling into place. It wasn't laughter, of course, but in that moment, it might as well have been. 

The day was sluggish and hot into the afternoon. Little to no customers stopped in, and Elias, the owner of the store, had left me alone for the morning. You did your duties; swept the aisles aimlessly, fronted all the books in the history section, wiped the counters at the tea stand. You even ventured to organize the pillows and blankets in the reading section, which was a loathsome task due to the sheer number of them littered about. Finally, when the sun was high in the sky with no promise of a cloud, Reana, the only other worker at the shop, slunk into the shop. 

Her inky hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and the clothes she wore were thin and airy, a short cream top with no straps, and a loose matching skirt that showed off a fair bit of her long legs. Her tanned skin was flushed with the heat, and her glasses sat low on her nose, the chain that held them along her neck softly clinking against itself.  

“I am sweating through every layer of clothing.” Her voice was scratchy, like smoke on a foggy day.

“Elias needs to re-up these stupid wards before I try myself.” Crossing the room from the little nook you’d been tidying up, you offered her a smile as a greeting. 

“Oh, don’t do that to us.” She snorted. With a flick of her hand, the tea stand bustled to life. “The last time you tried, it set us back decades.”

She was exaggerating, of course. The last time you’d tried to enforce the feeble wards on the store, it’d knocked every book out of the shelves and broken almost every mug and cup in sight. Your magic was not strong, it wasn’t practiced, and it sure as the Mother wasn’t controlled.

“Can you make some cold drinks? Maybe?” You plopped yourself down on a rickety red stool, chipped and discolored from use. “Milk tea would be lovely.”

Reana works the tea and coffee portion of the shop. While you could make an adequate cup, she was versed in fancy drinks and conversation; two things you did not have the skillset for. Her head dipped as she moved towards the counter, working meticulously to pull together the things she needed. Each movement was a choreographed dance, as she deftly poured and mixed, her fingers moving with the precision of a seamstress. The glasses sitting on her nose fogged up as she leaned down to sniff the spiced pot of tea on her small stove. She set the milky drink in front of you, the icey glass heavenly against my hands as you sipped at it casually, lolling my head back and forth as you drank. As the both of you sat in silence, the ambient sounds of the bustling street outside drifted in through the open window, mingling with the soft clink of ice cubes in our glasses. 

Gratefully, she doesn’t ask about the meeting you had today. Gratefully, she keeps her eyes trained on her tasks. Gratefully, you don’t have to explain anything to her.

Until…

Until the bell on the front door rings, and in steps the High Lord, the paper you’d apparently forgotten pinched between his thumb and his forefinger, the smile of a jester playing across his lips.

“Hello,” Voice like smooth, rich coffee colors the air. “I believe you’ve forgotten something.”

[lethologicaee]

based on a jesus helguera piece 🍇

[thelegendofstella]

babygirl who i’ve been obsessed with for the past few months <3

[itstimeforstarwars]

I just got a comment on something I wrote about ten years ago. Insane. How did you find that.

[barometz--balut]

i havent drawn him in ten million bajillion years

[kujakumai]

u ever think about how if Pegasus wasn't obsessed with resurrecting his dead teen wife then he could have just sat back and let some random genius kid obsessed with his game make him ten bajillion a year. Kaiba turned a nerdy card game he doesn't even own into a worldwide sports and entertainment juggernaut, while doing all the hard work of building and maintaining theme park and hologram infrastructure. Seto Kaiba is god's greatest gift to I2. If Pegasus had wished upon a star for a miracle to befall him then Kaiba is what the heavens would have conjured. He probably would've given Pegasus whatever dead wife related hologram tech he wanted if asked. All Pegasus had to do was rake it in and retire at 30 but noooo he had to go antagonizing the guy and kidnapping children and ensuring the best thing to ever happen to his game design company hates his guts forever. Poor business acumen tbh.

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

Okay i have to write this down. I have had a very specific fic idea sitting in my pumpkin of a head, rent free.

Draco gets a job - absolutely nothing important or fancy - as some kind of paperwork/paper pushing clerk at the Ministry right after his trial (some sort of reformation program for acquitted death eaters). Fast forward 8 or 9 years and draco still has the same job except he's kind of irreplaceable now because nobody can keep track of all the bajillion bullshit documents that get processed every fucking day - except draco. He sits in an office only slightly larger than a toilet cubicle and has stacks of parchment floor to ceiling ALL AROUND him and it's a bit dizzying honestly, but draco? You ask him for a specific document from december of 1999 and he'll find it in under ten seconds flat.

All this is not even the best part. The best part (in my head) is that draco is the biggest most terrifying GROUCH. Glasses perched on the tip of his nose, hair always rumpled (we know why but we get there later), draco sits at his tiny overflowing desk and barks and snaps at all the people who nervously stop by because they need their paperwork done and the Ministry has literally not bothered to hire anyone else. He doesn't report to anybody, he has no direct boss, they never sorted that shit out. It's something of a rite of passage for new ministry employees to get past draco. He's bony and pale and resembles an infuriated bowtruckle at any given point in the day. He sits there quill in hand, desk in impeccable order and just scolds every single person he meets.

"These are all in the wrong order," he snarls, shoving a sheaf of parchment at a young woman, somebody's new secretary. "Go rearrange them and maybe then I'll stamp and process them."

"Can you not see I'm already talking to somebody here?! Don't stick your head into my office when I'm already occupied. Get out and wait your turn."

"Shut the bloody door, can't you read the sign on it?!"

Occasionally though? He's a gem: "All right, okay, you need a letter from a parent or guardian since you're not of age yet. Didn't they tell you that when you applied for the summer internship? All right, why don't you dart through the Floos downstairs and fetch a letter from home? I'll be here until 5:30. Dry your eyes now, go on. I'll wait."

The whole ministry is terrified of draco and his temper and he speaks to nobody outside of work and nobody knows where he lives or whom he goes home to.

You know whom he goes home to, though, right? 👨🏿‍❤️‍👨🏼

[ladybracknellssherry]

Good Omens Deep Dive Ahead! **I have edited and added to this several times now, but "ma point" has stayed the same. Probably every single reblog has a different version of this. It has turned into an absolute BEAST. You might be able to watch both seasons faster than read this at this point 😂😭

---------------------- Okay so I am rewatching S2 right now and golly. I've just noticed something. I'm sure it has already been noticed by plenty of other people so feel free to let me know, link me to some metas, please.

A lot of us have painstakingly analyzed every single frame, statue, clock tick, facial expression, and breath of the final 15. Good. Now we're going to look at the scene in S2E4/The Hitchhiker/1941 when Aziraphale and Crowley are in the bookshop doing their little pre-magic show warm-up roleplay foreplay bit. They're being surveilled by a bunch of half-witted nazi zombie spies. Aziraphale is trying to impress Crowley with his * m a g i c * Crowley is trying really hard to support his Angel.

The Blocking!

Keep in mind the camera angles are not quite the same between these scenes, the dimensions look a bit off because the lighting is completely different and therefore camera settings are different, and some of the furniture has moved a little bit in 90 years (but not much because Aziraphale)

1941 Crowley positions himself approximately / very nearly exactly in the same spot in the bookshop where present-day Crowley stops in the final 15 of S2E6 when Aziraphale says "Crowley, come back." The spot where shortly thereafter Crowley says the awful words that make us cry.

gif by stars-bean

gif by yellenabelova

1941 Azirphale with his little coins is standing in or very nearly in his same relative spot as in that scene, when present-day Aziraphale says "I need you," and "I don't think you understand what I'm offering you." And where shortly thereafter he says the awful words that make us cry.

gif by wearecrowley

gif by mabellous

Then Aziraphale gets a touch insecure when Crowley suggests they go to the magic shop because it is "for professional conjurors," and Crowley responds with his "My Nefertiti Fooling Fellow" line of support and encouragement and believing in Aziraphale. And in that moment Crowley stands and walks towards Aziraphale. And they are mere inches away from one another either fully in or very nearly exactly where they stood or rather will stand during the kiss. I'm not gonna post a kiss gif we have all seen it ten bajillion times and I do not need to cry tonight it is a Wednesday.

gif by gigew

gif by ajcrowleys

(I’m getting ahead of myself for a second but seriously, c’mon, just look at this fluff muffin's genuine smile above and tell me if it looks anything like that strained nightmare on his face in the gif below.)

gif by dykefaggotry

BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE. And take from this what you will. That happy little 1941 West End Girl with his vanished farthing basking in the glow of what he now knows is his Demon's adoration. Rotate our duo 180° around the bookshop and Az is now primed to move into the position where he gives his frantic The Metatron's not so bad of a dude and Heaven are the Good Guys and Crowley is one of the Bad Guys nonsense ridiculousness that totally walks back on Aziraphale's entire character growth over 2 seasons. Could it possibly visually represent that our favorite little white-winged stim-city cinnamon roll found himself in the final 15 in a situation at a complete 180° from that moment in 1941 when he was so happy and being genuinely sincerely himself and he was about to do something that he really actually genuinely wanted so badly to do and it was GOOD and it was RIGHT. Crowley's confession is obviously such a wildcard. At this point in 1941 Crowley is supporting and encouraging and working with Aziraphale and in the final 15 he is doing exactly not that.

And even more. In both the 1941 scene and the final 15, Crowley has just entered, respectively, a church and Heaven to save Aziraphale in the middle of the blitz/a demon army almost war battle. A massive atmospheric difference is that 1941 happens at night and the final 15 happens in the morning. We'll work on figuring out what that might represent.

And then we have some seriously upsetting parallel Angel/Demon on the shoulder blocking/framing moments.

gif by i-seeaspaceshipinthe-sky

gif by inhonoredglory

and

gif by inhonoredglory

And several more of such occur between the two scenes but I simply cannot.

And here's the part where I ramble and try to make sense of this in terms of the theories and fail miserably.

Get up, stretch your legs, have a glass of water, and take several deep breaths in.....and out..... You good? Let's go.

I've said it many times before and I stand by it that Aziraphale was lying through his teeth to Crowley in the final 15. Not because he wanted to lie to Crowley to convince him to come or to try to push him away - but because he was putting on a show for the Metatron. I think that just like the nazi zombies in 1941, the Metatron in S2E6 was absolutely watching Az's every move in the bookshop. And Az knew it. The first few times I watched it I thought Aziraphale's nervous glances to his left during his weird speech and the divorce were just nervous glances. Then I noticed that after he turned to face the other direction, his nervous glances went in the same direction, to his right side now, all the while to the window. It's alarming the frequency, several times a minute (but you were already acutely aware of the window glances you ineffably clever little shits.) I believe the whole final scene between our babies was an attempt at a sleight of hand by Aziraphale to subversively communicate with Crowley without letting on to the Metatron. How fitting that the parallel scene in 1941 revolved around supporting one another and planning and rehearsing for a performance that required for them to trust each other implicitly. And while I believe the act is for the Metatron, he is acting at Crowley - but expected him to catch on and act with him using coded language, movements, expressions, etc. that he expected/hoped Crowley would be able to read. However, both Crowley and Aziraphale in the final 15 were very clearly genuinely distraught for their own reasons. Crowley is about to finally verbally profess his love - and Aziraphale, I quite think, is terrified about his conversation with the Metatron and what's about to happen and is trying to come up with a tactic on the spot. It seems very likely to me that the intensity of their respective emotions in this moment absolutely doomed their communication.

How this all fits in with the leading theories.

I don't buy into the coffee theory. I think that was a metaphor or an allusion or symbolic of a very real "either accept my offer (which is not something you even want because everyone knows Aziraphale doesn't drink coffee) or suffer some dire consequences." I can't imagine Aziraphale would have ever thought the Metatron's offer was genuine and given out of merit. Surely he knew that he was in trouble. He'd thwarted the apocalypse, quit his job, stopped hiding that his person is a Demon, set off alarm bells in heaven twice in one week, blew up his halo and almost started a war, and hid an archangel on the lam. “You’re honest.” Bbgygrl bold face lied to the archangels for a week and the Metatron knows and Az knows he knows.

I'm not really for the body swap theory. Not really at all.

I’m not really for Angel!Crowley’s memory was wiped. How then would he remember the passwords? Crowley’s personality is very “that bitch” so I think all of his no-idea-who-tf-you-are interactions is just him being catty.

The time stop theory seems the most intriguing, I'm listening, but not yet sold. How prominently the ticking of the clock can be heard at all times in the bookshop feels important. I find myself flummoxed by the "missing minutes" / "continuity error" with that prominent clock in a show where the attention to detail is, “as you might say, a miracle,” that is propelling whole droves of human beings to the brink of discorporation. Here's an excellent breakdown of the timeline/examination of the clock in S2 by thesherrinfordfacility

I am, at this current moment in time, in the camp that believes Az likely attempted to convince Crowley to stop time so that he could explain the situation to him. To explain the threat - either implied, inferred, or direct - from the Metatron. To try to formulate a plan together. Check out this analysis from ineffableigh and take another look at Aziraphale babbling out his Heaven propaganda. Apparently the lip-reading theory that Az was mouthing about "time" has been debunked, but I stand by what looks like Aziraphale making the "time-out" hand gesture. And that damned clock loudly ticking its heart out all season must be important. Mustn't it??

Still, I'm not entirely convinced that any time stopping actually happened, not sure when it would have happened. Crowley was so emotional in a way we have never seen him. I think its highly possible that in the heat of that moment he wasn't catching Aziraphale's signals. I think that Crowley after the talk with Maggie and Nina was so caught up in saying what he was really thinking that it used up any possible bandwidth for LISTENING. But damn those tells seem like they would be/should be giant flashing neon warning signs to Crowley.

I mean, come on, the "C"lues in Aziraphale's ramble that he is spinning a wild-ass tale with coded language that would only make sense to Crowley are pretty obvious to me. If Az was really trying to convince Crowley to do something the last thing he would say is that it would be "nice(r)." And there is no way that at that point Aziraphale could have truly still considered Crowley to be a part of Hell and therefore one of the "bad guys." Seriously? 2 whole seasons and thousands of years spent learning about shades of grey and watching the Demon, who he loves, prove in a million little ways that he loves him back, watching that Demon do the right thing over and over, and TEACHING him, the Angel, the right thing. “Nothing lasts forever.” ?? My son is talking about his BOOKS. He is talking about THEM. They are IMMORTAL. They know what Eternity means. THEY last forever. If Aziraphale wanted to convince Crowley to come back and be an Angel, he would not have used that phrase/reasoning in his argument knowing full well that when Angel!Crowley became aware that his creation would be intentionally shut down, from Aziraphale's own mouth, mind, that was the triggering event that eventually led to Crowley's fall. Further, it would never have occurred to Aziraphale to try to use hurtful language to attempt to push Crowley away at this point because it has already been proven that that doesn’t work. S1E3 “I don’t even like you! “You do!” I think his erraticism in this scene was being totally caught off guard by Crowley's confession and trying to reconcile how to process and handle that while also trying to stick to his tactic of trying to get Crowley to read him. Az is brilliant, but Crowley is the one who usually can problem solve on his feet.

Az is clever enough to discern that he wasn't being offered the position in Heaven by the Metatron - Az was being forced back to Heaven. He wouldn't be happy or excited to make a difference in Heaven because he thought it was "the side of truth, of light, of good." No. There was no longer any freedom from Heaven, no safety for Aziraphale, which meant there was no longer any safety for Crowley. And if there was one motivator for Aziraphale above all other things it would be to keep Crowley safe. He had no choice but to go back to Heaven, so its not a matter of we can make a difference. It is a matter of we have to.

While I believe all of his word horror batshit disaster monologue was a bunch of old tosh, once present-day Aziraphale turns around from that 180° position to follow Crowley, into that final configuration matching that of 1941, he starts losing it. I think he's realizing that he failed in his attempt to get Crowley to understand. He did not expect to have to keep up this act so long. Crowley is walking away. It has all gone so wrong. He is cracking and the honest words start flooding past the lies. "Work with me!" (come on, catch up, please!) "We can be together"...(reluctantly, barely even trying anymore "...angels." And then it just breaks. "I need you!" "You don't understand!" While that would seem to be the case for Az, it really, at least on the surface, does not seem to have applied for Crowley.

The parallels between the final 15 and 1941 suggest to me, at least on the surface, an inverse. In 1941 we saw joy and excitement and wonder and cooperation and communication and trust. Furfur came to take Crowley back to Hell after catching our beloveds working together. And Aziraphale, the world's not best magician, performed a magic trick that may well have saved their existences, and "got it right the time that mattered." The final 15 is, again, on the surface and ostensibly, an abject disharmony. The Metatron came to take Aziraphale back to Heaven, and made a serious effort (no, not that kind, kids) to point out how very much the Ineffables "partnership" is "irregular" and implying, I'm sure, that they would only be permitted to be together as Angels in Heaven (which is a load of steaming celestial garbage.) (We're going to see more of the Az/Metatron conversation in S3, I just know it, there is some seriously important information missing.) But, as far as we were shown, at least on the surface, all of their getting to know one another and trusting one another and being able to read one another - failed to serve them the time that mattered.

And yet. Crowley still lingered in the end and stood so poised and stoic next to the Bentley watching Az step into the Hellevator...It kind of gave a feel that maybe Crowley figured something out. Maybe he had a cool down after storming out and realized something felt very off about that conversation. Maybe he just braced himself and remembered to trust Aziraphale. Maybe as he stormed out he saw the Metatron staring daggers into the bookshop window and it clicked. Maybe in Az's furtive glance back that very last time he once again mouthed "trust me." Some version of Az's message must have finally gotten through to Crowley. Somewhere along the way. It had to have. I can't believe it didn't. All season we were shown Crowley specifically can read Aziraphale. "You have three reasons for calling me" / "tone of voice," the "trust me" lip-reading at the 1941 magic show / Crowley has seen first hand how Az acts when he lies to Heaven in the Job mini-sode. And really. Crowley knows the second coming is on the agenda after his trip to Heaven. These two put the force of their entire existence into thwarting the Apocalypse once. Would he truly believe Aziraphale would want to help bring about the second coming? Sounds unlikely.

So, perhaps, the final 15 isn't in its entirety opposed to 1941. Maybe it's just a few symbolic nods. 1941 Crowley said the magic act they need to perform together needs to be "bigger" more "dramatic." Is there something bigger and more dramatic happening? Are they performing together? Did Crowley catch on? Did they stop time? Or is there a trick, like the photo swap, so surreptitious that it's almost invisible? Perhaps there is just a metaphor in there. Maybe now Crowley has to be the one to catch the metaphorical bullet and Az has to be the one to figuratively shoot? (That's terrifying.)

And then there's still the matter of that damned clock!

Also, let's face it, Alpha Centauri was never a plan. "They'll be shutting this all down in 6000 years.” “All.” As in "the universe.” As in Alpha Centauri included. They were going to have to take some sort of action eventually. I don't think Crowley ever wanted to go. He just wanted Aziraphale to say yes. Yeah, ouch.

Last point I promise is this video from @sendarya

Here, Nightingale Sang in its entirety is lined up with the 13 seconds in which it played in the Bentley and it ends exactly at the final frames of Crowley and Aziraphale. Some have speculated that Crowley had Nightingale queued up to play on the pair's way to breakfast at the Ritz. But that doesn't make sense. Wouldn't one have a song start at the beginning? AND Crowley had yet to have his chat with Maggie and Nina. I'm not so sure that the Crowley we know would have gotten it into his head/summoned up the confidence on his own to ready THAT song. Maybe the often tone-deaf Bentley was trying to comfort Crowley by playing Nightingale? But what I think is that when Aziraphale glanced back, he made the tiniest of little Angel nudge waves to convince the Bentley to play that song. From this vantage point, Michael Aziraphale's creepy smile in the final frame conveys an entirely different sentiment. It makes him look certain. It makes him look like an Angel with a plan. If I'm right in this part, I think that would have been exactly what was needed to finally get his message, intentions, and feelings across to Crowley in a way he could understand.

Come at me hive mind!

Also still new to tumblr and think I royally fudged it on adding those gifs so I'll work on that.

[tri-pofdeath]

It’s been ten bajillion years but I remembered how to draw, have this pointy pointy man

EDIT: hi i forgot a major detail and went back to add it lmao. i also cropped it a little differently but shhhhhh ssshhhhhhhhhh

[suncaptor]

being in your mid twenties is crazy because you're old enough that you've been the same level of cognizantly developed for like ten years but also you're young enough that ten years feels like a million bajillion years,

[boopshoops]

BLEHHH the sprite is taking me ten bajillion years to finish- so i just wanna- type shit

It feels weird for me to ask FJFNFJFJ but fuck it, if anyone has TCOAV questions, send em in my inbox, i may even answer stuff that could include mild spoilers- only mild tho, ofc <3

Anywho here's a wip for yall while im still workin on other things :)

Art and Writing tags :>

@lowcallyfruity @cecilebutcher @skriblee-ksk @kitwasnothere @thehollowwriter

@justm3di0cr3 @distant-velleity

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Can you give a brief summary of your AUs please?

Sure! :)

Breath of the Sky: A year after Skyward Sword, the newlywed lovebirds are slingshot into the future just before the Calamity. They now have to navigate being in this place, revered as Hylia and the Hero of Myth, while BotW Zelda and Link figure out how the heck they’re supposed to accommodate and deal with it. Chaos and lots of drama ensue. Currently playing: the Lovebirds and the Anxious Duo travel together with the Champions to survey Hyrule and see the Divine Beasts.

Forsaken AU: Original AU with original characters. When Princess Zelda, known for her prowess with her magic and her confidence in her abilities, gets disturbing visions of an oncoming darkness, she tries to claim the Triforce for herself to protect Hyrule. However, the Triforce shatters at her touch as she isn’t worthy to wield all three pieces, and she inherits the Triforce of Power. Put out but not defeated, Zelda goes on a quest to find the fated Hero of Hyrule - she knows it’s usually a dude named Link, and he likely will bear at least another piece of the Triforce, so that’s two birds, one stone! Except… half the kingdom names their boys Link. But after going through half a bajillion Links, two of them are promising! One she can sense a strong magic in, even though he just says he’s a masseur and knows nothing about fighting. The other hardly says anything at all, but Sir Edgy and his faithful doggie companion can’t keep hiding his secrets from her forever.

Blood of the Hero: Ten years after the Calamity, the Shrine of Resurrection is damaged, leaving Link vulnerable and dying. Link’s parents, Abel and Tilieth, who were on the Great Plateau protecting the shrine, are now tasked with saving their son’s life by taking him to the Sheikah shrines across the land. Currently playing: Link’s still out of it but he’s about 5-6 hearts and one stamina vessel in and showing signs of improvement while his dad has a complete spiral from ten years of PTSD buildup and his mom tries to pick up the pieces and take care of them both. Oh, and Impa thinks they’re all insane.

The Imprisoning War: Millennia before Hyrule Warriors, Ganondorf attempts to steal the Triforce and it predictably shatters, starting a two year war that nearly destroys both Hyrule and the Gerudo. The other two Triforce piece bearers are HW Link’s predecessor, the half-Sheikah/half-Hylian named Link, who is madly in love with Ganondorf’s daughter and came to look at Ganon as something of a father figure, and Zelda, who has to overthrow her father to lead Hyrule to victory. Once Ganondorf is defeated, things only get worse for Link as he has to abandon Hemisi, the woman he loves who just helped him and Zelda defeat her father, and enter an arranged marriage with Zelda to save what’s left of their broken kingdom. (Backstory for Golden Mercy)

Golden Mercy: When Ganondorf returns during Hyrule Warriors, he’s on a mission to make things right, though what that means is beyond everyone around him. Kidnapping the Hero of Hyrule and telling him he’s protecting him from the Queen is not what anyone expected, and nobody can quite figure out what his ultimate goal is. Link sure is confused, though, and… starting tor realize there’s more to Ganondorf than just being a monster. Zelda, on the other hand, is quickly spiraling with panic and fear over losing her friend and Hero, as well as trying to protect her kingdom from such a threat that was so dangerous the previous Hero split his soul into pieces to prevent him from ever returning. (Lots of redemption arcs. Lots of them.)

Wild Spirit: When BotW Link is mortally wounded in the Calamity, Zelda decides that Hyrule can be saved more quickly if she lets the Spirit of the Hero be reborn in a new Hero rather than hope a potentially malfunctioning shrine can maybe heal her friend in a few decades and he might not even know what to do. BotW Link dies, but his spirit remains to guide the next Hero, a young man from Lurelin Village. This new Link is friends with his strange spirit companion, and slowly learns his destiny as he grows older. Now that he’s of age, he must take up th mantle of Hero of Hyrule, and his first task is to find the Master Sword, which was entrusted to his predecessor’s father, Abel.

Dad Squad: This one I share with @nancyheart11 and literally anyone else who wants to jump in and have fun with the Dads. When the Yiga use new magic to jump to different points in Hyrule’s history and kidnap Heroes of Hyrule, it’s up to their Dads to save them. Then again, Link doesn’t really need saving all that often, and putting a bunch of Links together is never a good idea for the bad guys, so the Links bust themselves out. But now they’re running around lost and confused, the Dads are still trying to find their Boys, and the Yiga are somewhere in the middle. As for their motives… well. There’s a dark magical mask, maybe a Bad Dad demon king, and a whole bunch of idiocy chaos.

LU in Healthcare: Basically what it says on the tin. The Chain is in modern land and they’re all involved in the world of healthcare! And somehow everyone tolerates my pittance of updates/lore.

Hero of Shadow: During the events of TotK, the demon king discovers the grave of someone he knew and loved dearly - a young Sheikah/Hylian warrior named Link. Using his powers, Gan resurrects him at a price, to ensure that his boy stays safe and loyal. Meanwhile, this young shadow warrior is trying desperately to break free of his father figure’s control while fighting his own feelings on the matter, and his only guide is a strange mystical voice that leads him to shards of a broken sword. In the surface, TotK Link is starting to figure out that something else is going on in the depths. (Essentially, I threw my Imprisoning War blorbos into TotK)

…I think that’s all of them. Wow, I have a lot of AUs lol. So much for brief. 🥴

[xamaxenta]

havent drawn Marco in ten bajillion years and it shows

[skyward-floored]

More totk things I did/saw yesterday:

Sticky lizards. Sticky lizards sticky lizards sticky lizards. Sticky lizards. Did I mention sticky lizards.

The glowing cave fish are so pretty, I love their colors. I just love all the glowing stuff in the caves, and the caves in general, they were a superb decision on nintendo’s part

I fought some of those crazy monkey bokoblin things. I forget what they’re called. I maybe screamed a little because they startled me. But also something about them reminds me of the Mogmas in skyward sword and that worries me a little (even though I’m sure it’s a coincidence).

PELICAN RITO!!!

Penn is the best. He’s so silly goofy. I love his little salute he does as he leaves and “soar long” abshdbdjdbd. I really hope he carries stuff in his beak at some point (letters would be REALLY funny).

Since when can the trees attack by the way? what happened to those trees. Who hurt you. Ents gone rogue. Rebellious teenage Ents maybe.

Didn’t expect to find Impa in the middle of a field but okay! why not. Thought I’d have to hike all the way over to Kakariko to see her. I was also surprised she isn’t dead but I guess Sheikah just live longer. She’s gotta be pushing 130 at least...

(The rest is a little long so it goes under the cut):

The geoglyphs are really cool. Part of time is thinking they’re just a way for the developers to take up space without having to put anything but eh I’m forgiving.

The geoglyph of Rauru looks like he’s in a wheelchair. I don’t have anything further to say about that I just think it’s interesting.

Dragon tears... mysterious dragon... dragon people... hmmmmmm. hm.

Zelda: *wakes up to see a lady with poofy hair and a literal dragon dude standing over her* oh it’s going to be one of those days isn’t it

Jokes aside I’m glad Zelda isn’t alone at least? Even if she’s ten bajillion years in the past or however long it is. At least she didn’t wake up basically alone like Link did. Plus Sonia and Rauru are funny hehe

Got three game overs from a battle talus thing and then ran away 😔

Zelda sounds really into the blood moon thing tbh. Like in botw it sounds like a tired warning, but in totk it’s like HERE COME THE MONSTERS BABE *cue the you better watch out vine*

Second geoglyph memory tear thing was very interesting. That view from the great plateau is incredible, I want to look around hyrule from a bajillion years ago. How come only Zelda got to go... anyway interesting how Sonia could sense she and Zelda were related. And also if they are indeed related and therefore Rauru is too then how come Zelda just looks... Hylian? Are Zonai genes just extremely recessive or something? Or has it just been so long with so many Hylian genes that they’re just all gone. I have Questions.

Also Rauru has a big sister? Little brother Rauru?? hehehe

I feel bad for thinking it but the blizzard situation is kinda fun ngl. I know the Rito are struggling but I LOVE snowy areas. I LOVE THEM.

And the music is different in rito village aaaaaaaa. Again I feel real sorry for the Rito. But I love the vibes. I love the snow. I love it here.

KASS’S GIRLS ARE OLDER aww!! I got a little burst of pride seeing them they’re all so responsible now *squeals*

Side note it’s weird that the botw shrines are gone. It’s like I know something should be there but it’s missing. And nobody acts like it’s even gone. But I know it is. It’s missing and it should be there but it isn’t.

...Is this what Link feels like all the time?

Anyway.

Tulin sounds like Spike the dragon from mlp but honestly that just makes me love him more. He’s a cute little responsible and rebellious teenager now!! And Teba is dealing with that haha. Also a promotion!! I’m sure it’s rough being village elder, but I think you’re doing a good job Teba.

Oh I forgot to mention the newspaper place, that looks like it’s going to be a fun sidequest! And the music is great there too (also Penn again!!! Beloved!!!).

And I think that’s all :)

[jessi4fanfics]

TROLLS HOLIDAY OF HAVOC- A VALENTINES FANFIC: Part 1 (warning, rlly long)

only read this story if you are like REALLY bored and have nothing to do for the next bajillion minutes cuz ITS LONG

Its a mix of Broppy with a bit of Cliva!

I wrote this on Wattpad if you would rather read it there. 😘

"UGHHHHHHH," John Dory groaned as he and the rest of the BroZone brothers fell onto the couch the morning after one of their shows.

They were in Branch's bunker living room, where all of them except for Bruce lived now, though Bruce did live there when he was planning on staying in Pop Village for a while for shows, like this last week.

And there was only one way to describe what the brothers felt now: EXHAUSTED.

"I can't believe we did six shows in five days last week!" Clay groaned.

"I don't think I've slept since Monday," Branch sighed.

"At least we were all together," Floyd suggested. "It's better than when we were all apart, right?"

They all stared at him. It was obvious from their faces that they didn't really agree.

"I miss Brandy," Bruce sighed sadly, taking a picture of his wife and kids out of his hair.

"You always miss Brandy," John said, annoyed. "Why don't you enjoy hanging around us for a little while at least?"

"Because you guys never tell me how much you love me," Bruce shot back.

Floyd touched his shoulder. "Bruce, we love you a ton."

Bruce stared at him, then shrugged Floyd's hand off of his should. "Ehh, it's not the same."

"I'd be concerned if it was." Branch stood up. "Guys, we're all acting weird and mopey. You know why?"

"Because you didn't make us pancakes for breakfast like we asked?" John asked.

Branch frowned. "What? No. I told you; I don't have all the ingredients!"

"Well, I offered to go to the store for you, but nooooo you said--"

"It's because we all need a break!" Branch interrupted. "We've been working our butts off ever since we got back together, which is good, but we deserve a break sometime. Which is why--" He turned and grabbed the BroZone Planner book from off of the breakfast table, "--I completely emptied all of our activities this week." He placed it in front of Clay.

"What?! No way!" Clay opened the planner to the week that it was. It was true. The whole week had nothing written anywhere on it.

The brothers stared at it for a while. 

"Omigosh, yes!! This is what I've been secretly wanting for the past two months!" John gave a sigh of relief.

"That means we can do whatever we want all week!" Floyd smiled. "This is gonna be so much fun!"

"Guys, we should totally go bowling!" Bruce suggested.

John gave Bruce a funny look. "Why?"

"Cuz I haven't been bowling in forever! Last time I went bowling with Brandy, I broke my left pinkie toe!" He lifted his foot to show his toe, which was hanging in a weird way.

"Eww, that is disgusting, put that down!" Branch shrieked, covering his eyes.

"Dude, it's just the way of nature. Things break. Including toes," Bruce explained.

"That doesn't mean we want to see it!" Floyd gagged.

"Okay, okay!! If you put that foot down, we'll go bowling!" John compromised. 

"Okie!" Bruce put down his foot and gasped. "We can call it-- browling!!"

"Haha!! Yes! I love it!" John laughed, nudging him.

Clay had been quiet. His eyes were so wide they looked like saucers. Then he gave a relieved sigh. "Oh my gosh, it is so satisfying to open this planner to this week and see nothing in it."

"There's not nothing in it," Literal John pointed out. "It says 'Valentines Day' right there."

Clay gave him the bro, are you kidding me?  look. "Thanks."

"You're welcome! 🤗" John answered.

"Ahhh, Valentines Day," Bruce gave another sigh, this time full of relaxation and enjoyment, as he sat back. "You know, Brandy and I met on Valentines Day."

His brother turned to him, annoyed. 

"Yah, we know," John grunted. "You tell us every Saturd--"

"It was exactly ten years ago," Bruce began suddenly.

The rest of BroZone groaned. 

"I was new to Vacay Island and the Islanders, and watched them party in the evening of Valentines Day, all partying like they were never gonna stop. I watched sadly, wishing that I had my own Valentine to party with."

"And then that's when you saw her," Branch predicted.

"By the snack stand," Clay continued.

"All alone," Floyd reminded.

"Looking kind of depressed," John finished. "Maybe a bit like us right no--"

"And then!" Bruce didn't wait for JD to finish. "I decided now was my chance. So I walked up to that beauty. Her eyes were shining like bits of heaven itself. Her skin as yellow as a really ripe banana. Her hair as stringy as the cheese in a cheese and spinach ravioli."

"Why do you always describe her like that?" Clay asked. "It absolutely disgust--"

Bruce ignored him. "And I walked up to her and said, 'Hey, you must be today's special cuz you're making me hungry!"

All the brothers winced, just as they always did whenever Bruce got to that part.

"I'm really surprised she didn't punch you after saying that," Branch remarked.

"Oh, she did," Bruce chuckled.

"Wait, what?!!" Clay gasped.

"Dude, how come you've never told us the one interesting part in this lame story?!!" John gaped.

"I don't know. It didn't really matter," Bruce shrugged.

"What is wrong with you?" Clay asked.

Floyd laughed.

"Well, anyways. After I said that, she--"

They all groaned again.

"BROOOOOZOOONNNEEEE!!!" came a high but sweet voice from the hallway.  

Queen Poppy burst into the living room, her face full of excitement and joy. She waved a pink envelope in the air before twirling excitedly in the room. "I'm sorry that I just popped out of nowhere, but I had to tell you--!!"

She stopped, noticing Bruce's mouth open, mid-story. "Oop, am I interrupting something?"

"Nope, you just saved us," Clay said gratefully. 

"Yes, please continue. Even your news may beat Bruce's story," John pleaded. 

Branch smiled and rolled his eyes. He was completely grateful to Poppy for interrupting though. Hearing the same story every week wasn't very fun.

"What'd you want to tell us?" He asked, walking toward her.

"Well, you know how Valentines Day is in two days?" She sang in a happy voice.

"Ugh, don't start Bruce all over again!" John said, alarmed.

Bruce crossed his arms. "I don't get why you guys don't enjoy it. It's absolutely lovely."

"Sure, Bruce. If you say so." Floyd patted his shoulder.

"We were just talking about it," Branch informed Poppy, who looked a bit confuzzled.

"Oh. Well, good!" She grabbed his left arm. "I wanted to invite you all to--"

"Wait, invite us to?" Branch stopped her. "Poppy, I thought I told you, we were taking a break from parties and everything else all week!"

Poppy looked at him, remembered, then blushed. "Oh. Well, uhhh--" she scratched the back of her head. "It's not really a... party."

Branch sighed and took the pink envelope and opened it. Inside the card said:

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO POP VILLAGE'S FIRST ANNUAL VALENTINE'S DAY DANCE!!

Formal Dress Required. Snacks Provided! 6pm to 9pm.  

"Popppyyy," he gave long groan.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-- I forgot, you don't have to go!" Poppy's face flushed even more. 

"Another party?!" John moaned, leaning back on the couch.

"But I was hoping to go back home that day!" Bruce said. He sighed. "Well, I guess..."

Clay also gave a sad sigh. "There goes our empty week." He grabbed a pencil and tried to bring himself to write in the planner Valentine Dance.

"For the second time, it's not empty! It already says 'Valentines Day', right there!" John pointed out again. 

"DUDE HOW LITERAL CAN YOU BE?!!" Clay shrieked.

"Guys!" Poppy yelled.

They all turned to her.

She turned back to Branch. "Look. You're right. You told me not to invite you to a party. I thought the ball would be alright since it wasn't really a party, but I shouldn't have taken you so literally, and I'm sorry. You all don't have to go, no pressure." She gave him a kind smile and turned around and left.

They all stared after her.

"That was really sweet of her," Floyd said.

"Wow. Branch. She practically got on her knees, begging for forgiveness, and you just stand there like a doofus!" John said.

"Yeah, Brandy never would never have done that for me," Bruce said, impressed.

"Mostly because she doesn't have knees," Clay smarted.

The Clay and John snickered.

"I don't find that funny!" Bruce shouted.

Branch sat down next to Floyd. 

"Penny for your thoughts," Floyd said gently.

"I think I'm gonna go to the dance," Branch said shortly.

"What?!" John turned to him. "What happened to browling?!!"

"We have all week to do that, it's just one day, guys." Branch shrugged. "Besides, I kinda want to make this Valentines Day perfect for Poppy. The past few haven't gone-- well, very well."

"What do you mean?" Floyd asked.

~~~ THREE YEARS AGO~~~

"Happy Valentines Day, Branch!!!" Poppy held out a Valentine's Day card to a grumpy Branch.

He took it with a plastered smile then stomped on it angrily.

"😱😱!!!" Everyone gasped. 

~~~ TWO YEARS AGO~~~

"Happy Valentines Day, Branch!!" Poppy held out another Valentine's Day card for a grumpy Branch.

He took it and stomped on it.

"😱😱!!!" Everyone gasped.

~~~ONE YEAR AGO (Branch has his true colors now, y'all)~~~

"Happy Valentines Day, Branch!!" Poppy held out her annual Valentine's Day card to a now happy Branch, sure he wasn't going to stomp on it.

Glitter sprayed in his face.

"EEEWW, I GOT GLITTER IN MY MOUTH!!" Branch shrieked. "I THINK IMMA PUKE-" runs away gagging dangerously.

 "😱😱!!!" Everyone gasped.

~~~BACK TO PRESENT TIME~~~

"Oof, yah, you do owe her a good Valentines Day," Floyd completely agreed. 

"And maybe this is my way of doing it," Branch said. He got up. "I'm going to go tell Poppy. But none of you guys have to go."

"Oh, don't worry, we've got that in mind," John said, annoyed. 

"Poppy!" Branch ran out of the living room smack into--

"Hiii!!" Poppy gave him a giddy smile.

"Poppy, were you standing there the whole time?" Branch asked, lifting an eyebrow.

She shifted uncomfortably. "Mayyybeee."

He couldn't help smiling.

"I was hoping you'd say you would still come! And you did!!" Poppy gave an excited squeal and jumped onto him, giving him a big hug.

"Okay, okay, but I don't think the rest of them are coming," Branch gently pushed her off of him.

"That's okay." She waved her hand carelessly. "As long as you're there."

He grinned.

"Viva and I are so excited, we're planning on decorating it all by ourselves and we're ordering the biggest cake you've ever seen and--" she gave an excited gasp. "Branch!! You'll have to come over tomorrow! I have so many ideas for your tuxedo!"

"Well, I-- uhh." Branch wasn't sure if he wanted to wear another tuxedo in his life. He had worn that all week so far.

"How about around 11am tomorrow?! Okay, good!" She kissed his cheek, not waiting for an answer. "I'll see you then!!!" And she danced toward the elevator.

Branch gave an exasperated sigh. 

~~~ The Next Day~~~

"I'm off to Poppy's to see about tuxedos, guys," Branch said. 

"Ouch, good luck with that." John lay on his back on the couch, covering the whole thing.

Branch rolled his eyes.

"Branch, do you have a mailbox?" Bruce asked from the breakfast nook. "I haven't had mail in forever!"

"Pfft, who'd send mail to you?" John asked. "You aren't a thrilling teenager anymore, Bruce."

"As a matter of fact, I get tons of fanmail, Mister I'm-Jealous-Cuz-I've-Never-Gotten-One-Fan-Letter-In-My-Entire-Life. But I was talking more about my family," Bruce said defensively.

"Mmm." John had no comeback.

"As an answer to your question," Branch finally managed to cut in, "No, Bruce, I do not. Poppy's working on that. I can go get your mail at the post office if you want."

"Ooh, and while you're there," Clay handed him a letter to mail.

"What's this?" Branch asked.

"Well, it's--" Clay began in his I'm-about-to-blab-about-serious-boring-and-important-stuff-for-about-fifteen-minutes voice.

"Ya know what, doesn't matter, I'll take it." Branch was not about to stand here for fifteen minutes. Not when he could be talking to Poppy. "Anything else?"

"Oh! I have a grocery list!" John got up and handed him a five-foot-long list. 

"John, I'm going to Poppy's pod. I'm not going anywhere near the grocery store."

"Well, you asked 'anything else' and I told you!" John went back to the couch. "You're welcome."

Branch rolled his eyes. 

"Here, Branch. I'll go do that stuff." Floyd got up from the breakfast table. "You can go on ahead to Poppy's pod."

"Oh. Thanks, Floyd." Branch gave him a smile. 

"We're off!" Floyd announced.

"Hmm."

"They don't care, let's just go before they order us to go pick up something somewhere else," Branch whispered.

"Good idea," Floyd agreed.

They started off toward the direction of Poppy's pod (the post office was on the way).

"Soooo...." Floyd said in a singsong voice.

"Soooo?" Branch asked.

"What's your gameplan?"

"For what?"

Floyd laughed. "Asking Poppy to the dance!"

"What?" Branch gave him a funny look. "I have to ask her? She's not just gonna assume we're going together because we're dating?"

"Well, of course she does. But it's more fun for the girls when they get asked." Floyd grinned. "You know, you'd think you've never been in a famous boyband."

"Yeah, well, girls weren't always my first priority, you know."

"I can see that." Floyd's grin turned into a gentle smile. "Branch, I want you to do how proud I am of you."

Branch shifted uncomfortably. "For what?"

"Getting along. Without us. Even before you had your true colors back. You dealth with Grandma..." Floyd gulped. "Well, you dealt with that all alone. And you still went on."

"Barely." Branch shrugged. "If it wasn't for Poppy, I don't know where I'd be right now."

"Well, it wasn't just Poppy." Floyd looked straight into Branch's blue eyes. "Poppy isn't in control of you changing, Branch. That's almost all you. She may have changed you, but you let her. And that's why you're here now, dating the Queen of the Pop Trolls."

Branch flushed. 

Floyd chuckled. "I remember the day you were born. Clay made ten lame jokes about you right away, laughing at them by himself, Bruce seemed to be grumpy because you had blue eyes when he had always wanted them, and John looked like he wanted to die because he now had four brothers instead of three. But I knew right away, you were something special, Branch."

"I'm not that special," Branch said. But he couldn't stop smiling. "Oh, there's Poppy and Viva!"

They were in front of Poppy's pod, doing backflips in the grass, giggling like crazy.

"Oh, man, they're gonna break their necks!" Branch rushed to them. "Poppy, wait, don't--!!"

Floyd laughed, watching. Then he looked at Viva. She was laughing at Branch as well, giving him a teasing push, and he turned on her and tweaked a blonde curl, grinning, something he had grown to do lately as he as now as close to her as his brothers.

Branch knew a lot about Viva already because he hung around Poppy so much. Floyd wondered if he was close enough to her to be able to jokingly tweak a curl. 

No, definitely not. But it would be fun to have a friend like that. And he hadn't had very many since he went to Mount Rageous. 

Suddenly, an idea popped in his head. It sounded alright. Would Viva think so?

He smiled and walked toward her calmly, on a mission.

...