#but also the daisies are in her hair that sort of means she still has some of that innocence left

[hi-im-just-a-fan-here]

Fucking finally I made another one of the art Nouveau inspired pieces. It's not the best as I had a long break but I tried.

[beanghostprincess]

I love the sanji and Usopp childhood best friends AU but let me one up this a bit. Robin being usopp's not so legal guardian.

She's in her early 20s she's still on the run and hiding from the government. She runs into the red hair pirates. They hide her on their ship for a while running away from the Marines as well. They really don't know what to do with her at this age she's really not up to being a pirate. Especially on a boat full of men she just met a week ago, they don't know what to do. They're planning on dropping her off at any random village but yasopp had a better idea.

Her name is not Robin. Her name is Ruth, She cut her hair. Maybe dyed it a different color She looks like a completely different person. (They also fake her death. They blew up a navy vessel. They could have executed the plan a little bit better) He takes her to his home and gives her the key.

This is a kind act. A little too kind.......What's the catch? Of course the catch is she has to look after his son. Yasopp has recently been bereaved losing his wife while he was at sea leaving his 7-year-old basically alone for the time being.

(Since yasopp knows that his wife has passed, I'm pretty sure he got Merry or someone in the village to check up on him while he tries to come up with something in the meantime.)

Yasopp: He needs someone to look after him.

Robin: and why isn't it you?

Yasopp: with my bounty? No, not a chance...... Folks recognize me you know my face and once they know It's off to jail for me but you... Ms "Ruth" they don't know you... Which means you can roam around without any worry.

Robin:........

Yasopp: I know this isn't your ideal situation but this is the best we could do. Okay? Look you got a nice house. You can have the master bedroom.... Some of my wife's clothes are still there food, water, Shelter You're set....... All you have to do is just keep Usopp safe..... Say hi buddy don't be scared she's here to watch you..... Come on let go of Daddy's leg..... Say hi to her usopp....

Usopp: no!... I don't wanna.

Robin:...........

Yasopp: *sigh* come here upsy daisy.....God either you're getting heavy or I'm getting old.....*sigh*.....he's a good kid really. Honestly he's very low maintenance just feed him and bathe him and put him to bed at 8.

Robin:........... (Staring)

Usopp:........ (Staring back)

Robin:... Alright...... I'll do it.... I'm truly grateful for this really.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN LOW MAINTENANCE THAT IS A CHILD YASOPP PLEASE SUKFKSDKKJSGNKBFKJD 😭😭😭😭

No, but I absolutely love this. Robin and Usopp bond after a while of Usopp being a bit shy and scared of her. She's like a big sister of some sort, too. He tells her all his stories and speaks about his mom! And Robin also tells him her mom was an incredible person too but also died :( She takes care of him in such a gentle, and loving way. And Usopp is protective of her. Like. A lot. He keeps saying that if anybody dares to come around her he'll just stop them with his powerful slingshot because Captain Usopp will be there to save his dear archeologist! (dude, is this Au just Usopp stealing crew members from Luffy because he found them first? Maybe yes). She tells him her real name and the real reason she's there once he grows up a little bit, and Usopp promises to keep the secret if she stays with him because he really can't lose somebody else. Robin tells him they'll be together for as long as he lets her. She's the most,,, Precious thing. She loves Kaya, too! They spend sooo much time together with Usopp.

And then the whole drama comes because Sanji appears. It's not like Robin is going to fight somebody now that she's safe, but the way the kid speaks when he starts staying over with them (while the crew fixes the ship yadda yadda what I say in the original post) is a bit worrisome,, Sanji grows so fond of her too. He loves her! She reminds him a lot of his mom and finds so much comfort in her. Now, there's this layer of angst because, despite loving each other and having so so much fun together, the three of them can't stay like this forever because Sanji has to go. And Usopp, of course, says no because he's both scared and not ready to do this. But,, But also, he doesn't want to do this to Robin. She's been taking care of him for a long time! And she can't come with them! It'll be dangerous! And Usopp can't leave without her because she promised his dad she'll protect him, and he doesn't want her to get into any trouble. Usopp doesn't tell Sanji, though, he doesn't want to blame Robin for this and make her feel guilty. So he keeps that to himself and watches Sanji go, hoping to reunite someday.

I am guessing that once they meet Luffy, Robin joins them at the same time. If Usopp is going, she's going too. It doesn't matter how dangerous it is, if Usopp wants to fulfill his dream, she doesn't mind a bit of danger. They'll be alright. Then they meet Sanji and everything is pretty much the same except that Robin is there from the start? Her low appreciation for her life is still there, don't worry, Water 7 happens anyway. It's just angstier because Usopp wants to leave and Sanji doesn't want to lose him again, and Enies Lobby is even more dramatic because it's Usopp the one to burn down the flag for his dear Robin! Not to mention that it adds more significance to the Robin/Sanji Wano scene!!

And also, just think about Robin knowing these two teenagers have the biggest crush on each other. It's just so cute.

[littlemessyjessi]

"Going On An Adventure": Chapter Two of the Thorin Oakenshield story "Treasure of the Wild"

"Treasure of the Wild" :  Goin On An Adventure     : Chapter Two: 

A Thorin Oakenshield Story 

Warnings:  This is a re-imagining The Hobbit, which of course I do not own.  The only thing I own is Fawn and her invidual story and such.  That being said, it takes place in Middle Earth which is gritty and slightly traumatizing in and of itself.   So there's that warning.   

. 

The first rays of light had yet to grace the Shire when Fawn arose. 

The sky outside was still an inky sort of blue as she gathered her dressing gown around her. 

With a heavy sigh, she opened the door and stepped into the night, settling down onto the bench to smoke her pipe. 

Last night after she'd departed to bed, she'd had a good cry over the words exchanged with her brother and then set about packing. 

She'd laid her clothes across the wooden trunk at the end of her bed and had a fitful sleep. 

Excitement had bubbled inside her, of course; what with the unknown possibilties dangling in front of her like she were horse and it some prized carrot. 

But also, she was unsettled by Bilbo's words. 

Did he really mean it? If she left, would she really be barred from returning?

Would her home in Bag End be gone from her? 

Would he really claim her as his family no more? 

Her spiral of misery was interrupted as the door opened drawing her attention. 

Dark hair streaked with rivers of silver that caught the starlight told her exactly who it was before the moon had a chance to light those fiery sapphire eyes. 

He paused at the sight of her, "My apologies, m'lady.  I will wait." 

"Nonsense." she said, scooting over and patting the bench beside her.  "There is plenty of room in Bag End for the both of us and plenty as well on this bench.  Come and smoke your pipe, Master Oakenshield." 

He bowed his head in gratitude as he sat beside her. 

It was silent between them for a moment. 

The only sound being that of the Shire and their exhales of  smoke that spiraled together dancing off into the distance. 

"It's Thorin, by the way." he spoke. 

"Pardon?" she asked, blinking over at him. 

"Thorin." he repeated. "You don't have to call me Master Oakenshield every time.  Just Thorin will do. I never actually got to introduce myself properly before.  Gandalf cut in."  

She nodded, a slight small pulling at her lips, lifting her fluffy cheeks up a bit.

"I suppose he was probably trying to deflate my brother's temper before it got out of hand at the prospect of him defacing our property." she said glancing at him. "Bilbo did, in fact, paint that door a week ago.  If he knew Gandalf went carving into it he'd be set about like a wet hen." 

Thorin chuckled at the image of the hobbit having a right fit. 

"It wouldn't be the first time though." she continued.  "I think I was nearly eight or so when he'd painted it last.  And I, in my obviously clearly superior wisdom at all of eight years old, thought it could do with some additions." 

Thorin lifted a brow for further explanation. 

"I painted daisies on the wet paint with mud." she said. 

Thorin's chest shook as a deep rumbling laugh overcame him and she couldn't help but join him. 

"He did not find it so funny, I assure you." she said. 

"I would've loved to have seen that sight." he admitted. 

"Oh, it was a sight to behold." she said. "He was so cross with me that he didn't speak to me for a day.  I honestly thought he was going to to take me back where he'd found me." 

Thorin's brows furrowed, "Where he fou-" 

He never got the chance to finish that sentence as Gandalf poked his head out the door. 

"We should get a move on.  Make sure everyone has everything.  We need to be on our way at first light." 

Fawn nodded, gathering the skirt of her dressing gown. 

"Coming, Master Oak-" she stopped at his glance. "Thorin.  Are you coming, Thorin?" 

He nodded, "Yes, Miss Bagg-" 

He paused at her own look. 

A smile tugged at his lips as he corrected himself, "Fawn.  Yes, I'm coming." 

The two of them made their way back inside, Thorin making sure to get ahead of her and open the door. 

She gave him a small, sweet smile as she passed him, "Thank you." 

He tilted his head again, those fiery eyes of his following in her wake. 

Fawn returned to her room, fluffy cheeks aflame and a thundering heart to boot. 

Her fingers ghosted over the afghan and she pulled it to her chest for a tight hug. 

"Mother, be with me on this journey.   Please give me strength." she whispered into the night before folding it neatly and laying it over the bed again. 

She thought of taking it, in case Bilbo really meant what he said but chose not to in a silent prayer that maybe he would see it and know that she was only doing what she felt in her heart. 

She turned to her glory box at the end of her bed once more and pulled out the shining dagger that she'd kept hidden for so long. 

Long and silver with strips of black leather around the handle and one shimmering blue stone in the end. 

She held it in her hand once more, the weight of it heavy in her palm.  

It was comforting. 

Another rustle of fabric and she retrieved her other hidden treasures wrapped up in her thatch of fur from long ago. 

She'd long since outgrown the deep blue dress of her youth that her mother had made.   

Cuts of it now served as wrappings for her long dark hair to keep it from her eyes. 

The thatch of fur had been refashioned into a lovely stole that she wore with her winter coat to keep her neck cozy. 

She'd never actually repurposed those silver mountain buttons but chose them to keep them on her at all times.   

A comfort resting in her pockets that she counted when she got overwhelmed or panicked. 

She shook the lingering glimmers of memories past from her mind and gathered the weapons she'd been hiding for years. 

A set of throwing knives, sharp and delicately made to look like feathers.   

An absolutely beautiful hatchet with a handle of ebony wood and shining steel for the blade. 

The carvings were beautiful, geometric and ornate. 

Fawn knew them to be dwarves as all of her small hoard of weapons were. 

She'd purchased them from a dwarrow couple over the years for the short time they resided in Bree. 

Fawn had an affinity for shiny little trinkets in general but she could not deny that her heart beat a bit faster when it came to weaponry. 

She'd always hid them, of course. 

It wasn't very respectable for a hobbit to have weapons of war about in their homes. 

Much less a lady. 

Though, Fawn was not a hobbit and she hardly deemed to call herself a lady with her adventurous and less than respectable tendencies.  

A smile pulled at her lips as she tugged on her best boots. 

A sturdy pair leather boots that had once been dark were now faded gray with a glinting steel cap on each toe. Purchased from that same dwarrow couple a few years back. 

Try as she might, Fawn Baggins was no hobbit and therefore she did, in fact, need shoes. 

Those boots were worth every coin as they had lasted her ten years already and the only sign of age was simply the faded color. 

Soon after she was dressed and pulling her pack behind her. 

Her eyes lingered on that thatch of fur for a moment. 

It was April now with summer approaching but she hadn't really any idea how long she'd be gone or what type of lands she'd been crossing. 

As a last minute decision she snatched it up and tucked it in the sack, if nothing else but for comfort and the memory of her mother's eyes when she'd first brought it home. 

She gently closed her bedroom door and moved into the corridor, her eyes flitting over her childhood home. 

Framed on the wall or various shelves were paintings and sketchings done in her youth. 

Carvings by her father's endless wittling and many a crocheted doily by grandmama. 

She stopped in front of her brother who was currently laid out, having clearly been exhausted from the prior evening's events. 

His curls were a mess and his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks. 

She was going to miss him so much. 

She hoped he wouldn't be too angry with her. 

She leaned down to press the softest of kisses into his curls and whispered, "Please forgive me, brother.  I love you with all my heart.  Keep me in yours with fondness, please." 

The dwarves waiting outside had had no trouble in hearing her but chose not to remark on it. 

Thorin glanced at his closest friend, Dwalin, to see him looking inside with an odd sort of look in his eyes. 

Thorin had seen it before. 

He pitied her and, in truth, so did Thorin. 

Gandalf, stood in the doorway, opened his arm for her, "Come, Fawn.  It is time to go." 

She sniffled softly, looking once more at Bilbo, before she turned and joined them. 

The door closed behind her and she felt the finality of it like a great slam though Gandalf had only eased it shut. 

A chapter had closed in her life and that chapter was Bag End. 

The heaviness sat upon her chest like a great boulder but she charged forward none the less following the Company as they trekked down the small path towards a bunch of grazing ponies. 

Fawn's eyes sparkled at the sight of them, a smile tugging at her lips. 

"Oh, Fawn, dear. I nearly forgot in all of the excitement last night." Gandalf said drawing her attention. "But I have something for you." 

He stepped aside revealing an absolutely magnificent, gray horse with a patch of white coating part of it's neck and face and there, right across the patch, it was spotted with an expolsion of dark spots. 

Fawn gasped, "Gandalf, how beautiful!" 

The wizard chuckled. 

"Well, the two of you seem to share a marking." he said gesturing to the dots all over her face.  "And when I saw, I just knew you were meant for one another." "What's his name?" she whispered, slowly moving forward.

"Her name is Constellation." Gandalf said in that mystical way of his.  "For the many stars who have graced her." 

"Constellation." Fawn whispered, gently petting the creature and practically vibrating with pure excitement. "Connie, for short." 

Laughter bubbled up around her but Fawn's eyes were for Connie and Connie alone. 

"As I said, I meant to gift her last night for your birthday but time completely got away from me." he said which caused an absolute uproar from the dwarves. 

"Birthday?!"  "What do you mean it was your birthday?" "Why didn't you say anything?" "You should've told us!" 

"Well, we had only just met." Fawn said gently.  "I was just happy to have guests.  You all made my birthday a very merry evening.  I will be forever grateful for the joy you have brought me." 

"Aye, lass but if we'd known we might've-" Dwalin began. 

"You might've gone away in some absurd act of being polite and while I appreciate the sentiment… I would've been very sad.  I much more enjoyed the alternative.  I haven't celebrated my birthday truly since mother's passing and the gathering we had last night would've pleased her greatly.  She was the life of the party.  She would have absolutely adored each and every one of you." Fawn said kindly but to the point.  

 "And furthermore," she said as she swung herself up onto Connie. "Belladonna Took would've taken great pride in the fact that her home was the meeting place for The Company of Thorin Oakenshield to discuss this great quest to reclaim Erebor and slay that dirty old slug, Smaug." 

The dwarves chuckled at her attitude though Gandalf had to agree, "Tis true.  If Belladonna were still here, she would've been the first to sign the contract to go, no doubt dragging blustering old Bungo along with her." 

"Exactly." said Fawn. "So I don't want to hear another word about it.  It was a lovely gathering and I thank you all of for attending the birthday party that I did not plan but am, in fact, very grateful for.  When we reach Erebor, I shall make you all a cake in gratitude." 

"Well, if it's the seed cakes then I will hold you to it, lass." Dwalin said, a mischevious twinkle in his eye. 

She grinned at him, fluffy cheeks pushing her eyes up into little half moons. 

Thorin said nothing through the whole ordeal but instead chose to just stare at her with her dark sheet of hair twisted into a knot at the back of her head and her pillowy, plump body and her pretty soft cheeks. 

And her absolutely lovely eyes that glittered like topaz.  

Fawn Baggins was a vision to Thorin Oakenshield. 

A vision he very much could not afford to have cloud his own. 

However, he couldn't truly say that he minded.

The Company set out and Fawn eventually ended up between Fili and Kili, the young heirs. 

"So Fawn." Kili began, gathering her attention. 

"Yes, dear?" she asked, glancing at the dark haired prince…. who immediately blushed at both the attention and term of endearment. 

"Those are some rather nice boots you've got there." he commented. 

"Aye, they look dwarven in make." Fili piped up, drawing her attention to the blond. 

"Thank you." she said with a proud little grin. "They are.  There used to the loveliest dwarrow couple who lived in Bree for a short time.  Just the sweetest people.  Fonel made such beautiful things and when it was time for a new pair of shoes, I knew exactly who I was seeing.  Her husband, Vren, worked as a blacksmith.  He made the loveliest things.  Oh, you should've seen it.  I could've spent all my time in that forge!" 

"Truly?" Kili asked, easily catching her rather contagious excitement. 

"Truly!" she grinned and reached down to draw her dagger. "This little beauty right here is the very first piece I ever got from him.  Fonel and Vren gave it to me as a gift for Yule one year." 

Fili reached forward, "May I?" 

She handed it over and his eyes grew taking in the blade, "This is quite the gift and if a dwarrow gave it to you as a gift you should be rest assured that they thought very highly of you, Miss Fawn." 

Her eyes glimmered with tears, "I thought very highly of them as well.  They made my little adventures to Bree a very pleasant time.  They were like family.   I miss them terribly." 

"Miss them? Are they not still in Bree?" Kili asked. 

Fawn shook her head, "No, they were only there for a few years.  Vren said they were moving towards the Ironhills in search of some of their kin.  Said they had a new pebble to take care of.  I later found out that pebble means a baby.  Which is highly adorable and I love it so much that should I ever decide to have a child, I will most certainly and without fail be referring to them as a pebble.  And I don't care what anyone says." 

There was a collective chuckle as her sassy vehemenent insistence on the matter. 

"But in any matter, apparently Vren's sister would need as much help as she could get with the little one and so they were going to help." she said. "Which, of course, I do understand.  Babies are such clumsy, accident prone little things but oh how sweet and precious they are." 

Thorin, at the head of the group, looked forward but could not help the smile at tugged at his lips listening to her gushing over little ones. 

"I do hope to see them again someday though.  I miss them something fierce and, of course, it wouldn't exactly hurt my feelings to see this cute little pebble that they left for."  she said, a mischevious little giggle escaping her at the thought. 

"Babies are cute." Kili admittedly. "Clumsy, yes. But cute nonetheless." 

"'Cept you." Fili teased his brother.  "You looked like a troll." 

"Oi!" Kili said, throwing his boot at this brother who only laughed and caught it before it could connect. 

"Aw, Fili." Fawn laughed. "How mean.  Kili, I'll bet that you were a positively adorable little pebble.  What?  With you big dark eyes? Sparkly little puppy eyes are dangerous.  I bet you got whatever you wanted!" 

"Aye, he did actually." Fili admitted.  "I was there." 

"I doubt you were no different." Fawn teased.  "All fluffy blond hair and blue eyes and dimples to boot!  Like a little lion cub, I'm sure.  If I should ever have the opportunity to meet your mother I shall have to commend her for her strength.  I don't know that it something I possess.  I will admit that I am very, very, very weak when it comes to little ones. What did you say her name was again?" 

"Dis." Fili said.  "And when you see Amad, you'll understand how she had absolutely no trouble telling us no. She's a force to be reckoned with." 

"Aye, it's Uncle Thorin who let us get away with everything." Kili added. 

"Oh? Is that so?" 

Thorin rolled his eyes at the positively impish tone to her voice. 

"Those days have long since passed." he said aiming it more towards his nephews than her as he turned to lift a dark brow at them. 

"Oh, I'm sure." she said, a little smirk on her plump lips. 

Thorin narrowed his eyes at her. 

She was teasing and yet… he couldn't find it in him to be upset. 

She looked far too happy in that moment. 

"What about you, Miss Fawn?" 

It was Bofur that spoke up this time. 

"What about me?" she asked. 

"What were you like as a pebble?" he asked. 

"Oh, that's something you'll have to ask Bilbo.  Bilbo-" she started immediately looking for her brother only for her smile to fall, "Oh, right. Um, well, maybe one day you can ask him if you pass through the Shire again.  He can tell you better than I." 

Fawn's entire demeanor seemed to change and she sunk a bit in the saddle.

Fili and Kili exchanged a look behind her back before glancing at their uncle who looked at her a moment longer before looking away when he couldn't bare the sight of her sad features anymore. 

"Ah, cheer up, lassie." said Balin.  "It'll be alright." 

Fawn forced a smile to the older dwarf. 

"Balin is right, my dear." Gandalf spoke. "Bilbo will be along soon enough.  You know he doesn't let you get too far for too long without him." 

"I'm afraid not this time, old friend." Fawn said with a sigh. "You heard him.  I've gone and done it this time.  Made a real Took of myself." 

"Well, then.  You should be quiet proud." the wizard said.  "I was always fond of the Tooks.  And Bilbo will be along, dear.  He is a Baggins by name but the both of you have got a Tookish streak in you a mile long. Give it time." 

Fawn shook her head at the old wizard. 

He knew very well that she hadn't any Took blood in her at all. 

"In fact, I'd wager that he's waking up right about now, realizing how dreadfully boring it will be without your troublesome self and is all but running to follow us so that he doesn't perish from the quiet." he said. 

"I'll take that wager!" someone shouted which then ensued a vigorous conversation revolving placing bets as to when and if Bilbo would show. 

Fawn had her doubts and stayed out of the betting but it did make her a smile a little to see them all mischeviously jiggling their coin pouches. 

The Company carried on through the woodland for a bit longer until a cry cut through the air. 

"Wait!" 

A gasp ripped it's way out of Fawn as she turned to see her brother running to catch up with them. 

She bolted off of Connie and raced towards him as fast as she could. 

"Bilbo!" she cried, snatching him from the ground in a spinning hug.  "You came!" 

"Of course I came, Fawnie." he sighed when she sat him down and knelt before him. 

Bilbo held her cheek in his hand for a moment, "I couldn't very well let you run off on your own, now could I?  I picked you up all those years ago and brought you home and promised to look after you.  I can't very well do that sat in Bag End while you're off on some grand adventure now can I?" 

Fawn sniffled, tears in her eyes, "No, I suppose not.   And it's a good thing too.  You know I'm just loads of a trouble." 

"Exactly.  It was purely practicality really." he teased. 

"Of course.  A civic duty really." she said, laughing through her tears.

"Wouldn't have been fair at all for me to leave the dwarves to put up with you." he teased. 

"Tis true.  I'm a handful.  Just terrible really." she agreed. 

"Miss Fawn, you're no trouble at all and I-" Kili started to defend her but stopped when he saw the two of them smile at him.  "Oh, you're joking.  Sorry." 

The pair of them shared a laugh before Fawn sniffed again, "You're really coming?" 

"Yes, I am." he said, urging her to stand and they made their way towards the front of the group. 

"I signed it." Bilbo said, waving the contract before presenting to Balin who made a show of opening his eyeglass and looking it over. 

"Everything appears to be in order." said Balin before placing a well aimed wink at the hobbit.  "Welcome, Master Baggins, to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield." 

There was a round of chuckles from the group and Fawn took to squeezing her brother in happiness again. 

"Easy, Fawn, easy." Bilbo gasped.  "Cutting off the air supply." 

"Oh, right, sorry, sorry." she said, releasing him. 

Thorin watched the interaction amused with both the hobbit's change of heart and the massive smile on Fawn's face. 

He decided right then that she looked absolutely radiant when she was happy like that and it was a sight he wouldn't mind seeing more of. 

Fawn glanced up at him and their gazes lingered for a moment before he eventually broke it to say, "Give him a pony." 

"No, no, no, no.  That won't be necessary. Thank you. I'm sure I can keep up." Bilbo stuttered. 

"Oh, yes, Bilbo! You just have to.  They're so cute!" Fawn tittered excitedly. "And you've yet to meet Connie!" 

"I've done my fair share of walking on holiday- and who's Connie?" Bilbo said, eyes growing in size when he watched his sister climb upon the great steed. 

"This is Connie! Constellation actually but Connie for short! Isn't she lovely?" Fawn asked. 

"Yes, yes, Fawn, lovely." he said, getting a bit nervous about the ponies.  "But really I'm in no need of a pony.  I've even gotten as far as Frogmorton once- urgh!" 

His nervous rambling was cut off when Fili and Kili simply picked him up and placed him on the pony. 

Fawn had Connie sidle up next to him with a giant smile on her face. 

Rather unnerving actually. 

Bilbo never knew anything good to come when she was that excited. 

"Bofur!" she called and the dwarf in question. 

"Yes, lass?" he smiled at her. 

"What is the name of this pony?" she asked. 

"Hasn't got one." he said.  "Just a pony."

"Just a pony!" she gasped in pure outrage. "How rude! I shall name you, darling. Don't fret." 

Bilbo gave his sister a look of exasperation, "Must you?" 

"I must." she said. "Now, let's see.  You're a lovely color, darling.  Maybe Cinnamon?  No, no, that won't do. Perhaps, Brownie? No, that is dreadful. Biscuit?! No, that's a terrible name for a pony.  What was I thinking?" 

Thorin could not hold his smile at the sound of her muttering. 

Luckily, he was at the front. 

Well, save for Dwalin, who - at a glance- gave him a very knowing look. 

He simply scowled at him. 

"I've got it! Myrtle! Her name shall be Myrtle!" Fawn beamed. 

"Myrtle?" Ori asked softly.  

"Yes!" Fawn grinned. "Myrtle from the myrtle tree which has absolutely lovely fragrant blossoms AND is a symbol of purity. Good luck, you know." 

"And you want to name a pony after purity?" Gloin asked. 

"Yes, of course." she said. "My other option was Magnolia which means 'great excellence' but I found that a bit too onstentatious.  Additionally, it would've been Maggie for short. Bilbo and I have a cousin called Maggie and, well,  she is incredibly unpleasant.  I should not like to invoke that negative energy onto this quest, thank you very much." 

The group chuckled at her ramblings while Bilbo scolded her. 

"Fawn Baggins, that was rude." Bilbo said. 

"It's true!" she said back.  "She is unpleasant.  Nearly as bad as Lobelia.  And besides, dearest darling Myrtle is a sweetheart.  I shouldn't like to burden her with a name laden with such negative connotations. Honestly, Bilbo, it's like you don't even know me sometimes!" 

Fili couldn't help but grin. 

Fawn Baggins was a riot and she seemed to come alive all the more when her brother was near.   

He was glad the hobbit had decided to join for more than one reason. 

When it was time to pay up coin purses started flying through the air and Fawn moved up to take Gandalf's place near the front. 

She and Connie sidled up beside Dwalin who greeted her with an uncharacteristic smile. 

Though to Fawn, it was all too familiar in the two days she'd known him. 

He seemed to have a soft spot for her. 

"Feelin' better now are ye', lass?" he asked, a knowing twinkle in his eye when he saw Thorin bristle out of the corner of his eye. 

"Much!" she grinned.  "May I ride up here with you? I like to keep my eyes ahead if possible.  I'm very excited to see where we're going." 

"Yer not botherin me, lass." he said. "I don' mind yer company at all." 

She grinned, those fluffy cheeks sending her eyes into half moons again, "Great!" 

"Thorin?" she called his name and he glanced at her to show she had his attention.  "Where are we headed exactly?" 

He lifted a brow, "To Erebor." he said simply. 

She sighed at him dramatically, "Well, yes. But what path are we taking?  I didn't get the best look at the map last night." 

"You needn't worry yourself with it." he said with a shake of his head.  "Just stick close to me and you'll be safe." 

Dwalin cut his eyes sideways at his old friend. 

An interesting choice of words … but he decided to let him have this. 

"Well, the only reason I really asked was because if we were to travel the old main path, there is a short detour that curves but leads out all the same." she said. 

"And?" he asked.  "For what reason would we divert from our original path?" 

"There is a rather wild garden that grows on that path that is free to all.  We could stock up on some things.  Wild herbs, there are vegetables and a few of the trees are fruiting right now.  Not all but some." she said. 

"And how came you to know of this garden free to all?" he inquired. 

"Because I planted it." she said matter of factly.  "It is for any wary traveler to use as long as they are respectful to the earth." 

Bilbo, further down the line, smiled softly at her words as he knew them to be true. 

That 'free to all' garden had been there for twenty years and always had something to bare. 

Fawn had claimed that patch when she was around nine or so on a trip back from holiday and they'd come across a traveler who was hungry. 

Fawn had promptly given him everything edible in her bag and vowed to find him more.   

Bilbo remembered the determined little girl, climbing through berry brambles and climbing trees for an apple. 

The traveller had been grateful and went on his way in much better shape than they'd found him. 

Fawn had been disturbed by the idea of someone going hungry though and spent the longest time turning it into the 'free to all garden" . 

It flourished and Bilbo had never told her but he'd been very proud of her for it. 

"I think it's a great idea!" Fili piped up from his spot by Bilbo. 

"Yeah, I want to see this magical garden!" called Kili. 

"Well, it's not magical." Fawn grinned at the pair of them as she turned.  "But there are blackberries! Which, for this time of year, is pretty magical, I'd say." 

"Blackberries?" Thorin asked.  

Dwalin smirked. 

Hook, line and sinker. 

She had him. 

Thorin Oakenshield was a sucker for blackberries and it was clear as day on his face. 

"Yes!" she grinned at him.  "And they are rather good if I do say so myself.   I'm not sure why they come so early as blackberry season isn't really until at least height of summer but it's always been like that in the garden.  But I love blackberries so I just don't question it.  Best not to jinx it."  

"And how long will it take with this detour?" Thorin asked. 

Dwalin could see the cogs turning in his head. 

"Oh, six one way, half a dozen the other.  No difference really.  A bit more scenic.  And there are a lot of deer near if you wanted to have a quick hunt.  And it's not exactly Bag End but I have made a little shelter there as well.   Just something to keep you safe and dry if you were traveller in need of it." she said. 

"And how far is it?" he asked. 

"From here? Oh about a day or so depending." she said. 

"Depending on what?" he asked. 

"Depending on how fast you want to get to the blackberries!" she said impishly making him chuckle in spite of himself. 

He couldn't help it. 

Thorin glanced back at Balin, "What say you?" 

The white haired dwarrow looked at the woman in question with her big puppy eyes and pleading face. 

"I say it would be a good idea to replenish supplies and take refuge.  We'll no doubt have plenty of difficult times ahead, Thorin.  Best we take the opportunities when presented." he said. 

Thorin held his gaze a bit longer before glancing among the hopeful looks of the company and finally to the woman who was looking at him with the biggest hopeful eyes he'd ever seen. 

He caved.  Hard. 

"Alright.  Take us to your little garden when we're close." he said and chuckled again when she cheered. 

"Yay! You won't be sorry! I promise!" she said.  

And truthfully, Thorin didn't think he would be. 

Even if it ended up in a mess. 

Even if they ended up lost. 

Somewhere deep down… he knew it was worth it just to see that happy little smile on her face. 

…………

Hello loves! Thank you for being patient with me as I worked on this update!

I do hope you like it and are getting deeper into Fawn's character.

I will say, she's not exactly as she seems and I'm curious to see if any of you pick up on the clues and figure out the secret before it's revealed. I would love to know your thoughts!

Also, if you want to catch up on the story, there are two parts before this. The Prologue: A Baggins of Bag End and Chapter One: An Unexpected Hostess.

With love eternally, Kenny 

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[missyastreiaaa]

Wedding Dress || T. Mitsuya

A young man hums along with the radio, a measuring tape around his neck a bright pin cushion strapped on his wrist like a bracelet. His eyes were focused on the masterpiece before him, gently handling the fabric and carefully placing down pins in the right places.

“ This will look perfect “ He mutters, lips curving up in a small smile.

Mitsuya Takashi, a world-renowned fashion designer who completely swept the entire fashion industry and the world off its feet. Not only was he talented and good-looking, but the confidence and humbleness he portrayed are also what made people love him even more.

However that wasn’t it all, it was also because he was the youngest to ever achieve this height of accomplishments within a short amount of time. A young bachelor. Sought by many ladies and men.

“ Should I put rose patterns or daisies? “ He wonders. She looks good in anything either way. He thought. Grabbing the notebook with different lace patterns and types of fabric inside.

Just the thought of Y/N wearing his handmade wedding dress gives him all sorts of feelings. He feels like he could pull a cartwheel on the spot, although his back has been having problems lately. He feels like giggling and kicking his feet randomly as if he was still in high school.

Seriously, how could one person make him feel intoxicated and yet cured of all sickness at the same time?

“ Mr. Mitsuya, Miss L/n is waiting by the lobby.” His assistant said on the phone.

“ let her in, “

Mitsuya Takashi is a great guy, with talents and looks, and fame. He’s a confident guy with a righteous mind. Though he’s a pacifist, he wouldn’t hesitate to get in trouble if his friends and family get hurt.

He hears the familiar clicks of heels, knowing fully well who they belonged to, he stands up and attempts to fix his messy workstation. Fumbling around like the lovesick fool he was, the door opens and the most dazzling woman enters the room.

“ Takashi? Long time no see! “ She greets, a warm smile on her lips as she gives him a hug. The same old welcoming and lovely energy she gave off the first time she entered his life.

He hugs her back, burying his face into her hair to hide the silly grin on his face. She smells warm and fuzzy. He thought.

Mitsuya was glad that she was finally back from her travels, safe and sound with all her limbs intact and no slight hint of mental insanity. It was weird when you put it that way but that’s just how he was. A worrywart of a person, turning into a mother hen at the slightest sight of injury.

“ I’m glad to see you, how was your trip? “ He asks.

She brightens up at his question, breaking away from the hug that he desperately wanted to chase after. Mitsuya guides her to a chair, one that he specifically ordered as her exclusive seat. A chair that no one, not even his closest friends were allowed to sit on.

“ I watched Mikey’s bike race! I was actually surprised that the competition was being held in Brazil, Good thing Mikey snagged me a nice seat with a great view of the race– “ She rambles on, Mitsuya wasn't really listening, well, he was but the sound of her voice got him lost in his thoughts.

“--kid challenged me to a dance challenge! It was kinda hilarious too since I ain’t backing down from a challenge! ” Y/n had a habit of talking with her hands, imitating the sound of objects or even animals to further explain the story well. 

Cute. he thought.

Mitsuya was a great listener and he also gives great advice. Along with his extremely long patience, gentleness, and thoughtfulness, it was not a surprise that he was popular with girls and boys. 

His thoughts were interrupted when Y/n stares in awe at her side. He knew what she was looking at, he always did. “ Would you like to take a closer look? “ and god was he so glad to ask her that when he received a bashful look of hesitance from her.

“ Can I really? I–I mean it still looks incomplete and I might accidentally spoil the fun! “ She says to which Mitsuya chuckled.

“ N/n, it's yours. You’re free to look at it, and I think it’s better to see it now. Who knows, you might hate the design after all, “

“ Nonsense! “ She exclaims in exasperation, “ How could I possibly hate your designs? They’re extremely beautiful! “ 

A soft smile painted his lips,” Is that so? Well, you can still check it out just in case “ 

Both of them stood, Mitsuya watched her as she softly walked towards the mannequin with an almost complete wedding dress. Her footsteps were light as if she was approaching a fragile art piece.

Her eyes twinkled with admiration. Something that Mistuya adored along with her other antics such as laughing like a maniac when she pranks someone. His lilac eyes stared at her, etching her face to his mind as if he hadn’t seen her in years.

She glides her hand by the hem of the skirt, “ So pretty, “ Y/n mutters.

“ Isn’t it? “ she asks, smiling graciously at the white dress.

“ Yeah, “ Mitsuya agrees, eyes still focused on her. “ Really pretty, “

“ Do you think I’d look as pretty once I wear it? “ 

I made that with you in mind. “ Of course, you will “ You’ve always been pretty.

A short laugh escapes from her, “ Then I’m glad, I’ll wear this proudly. “ She grins, showing off her now perfectly aligned teeth deprived of braces.

How could someone be this lovely? 

“ I hope, Mikey thinks so too, “ An adoring smile on her face. Mitsuya freezes but recovered in no time.

He purses his lips, swallowing down the disgusting bitter taste on his tongue, “ I’m sure he will, “ He replies calmly.

Mitsuya was popular.

Y/n laughs at the thought of her soon-to-be husband, “ He better does, I’ll kick his ass otherwise, “

Mitsuya was loved by many.

“ As you should, “

Mitsuya was a successful young man, sought by many people. And yet he can’t have the one person he’d ever love so much with his entire heart at stake.

Y/n turns to look at Mitsuya, “ You better attend my wedding okay? Can’t have my best friend be left out on one of my happiest days! “ 

His eyes soften, holding back the regret and tears. He bites the inside of his cheek, “ Of course, I’ll be there “

With how he always watched her, he wasn't really surprised when her eyes didn't look at him with the same affection as she did with manjiro. He always knew, yet the bitter taste still hasn't faded.

Her wedding, with me not as her groom, but the friend who designed her wedding dress.

[viilpstick]

I know right now you must be at your cruise, so I'll be waiting for when you come back so you can read this small gift I wrote for you(⁠＾⁠∇⁠＾⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♪

Thanks for your support for my art and OCs and for making such wonderful oc x canon as well!! Hope you like this and hope you had a fun trip!

Also, just for your information since I'm unsure if it was clear by my writing, in this story Daisy and Yuuna are both brought to Twisted Wonderland, and in book 5 Daisy was participating in VDC with the other boys while Yuuna was a manager since I believe you said you wanted her to not participate! Daisy and Ruggie were already a couple in this book!

•••

“Yuuna.” Vil’s calm voice was heard as Yuuna and Daisy were about to leave the practice room of Pomefiore. The gray haired girl blinked at him, surprised at the way he suddenly decided to refer to her, especially now that practice was over. “May I talk to you for a moment?”

The girl blushed and Daisy smiled at that. The blonde knew about Yuuna's crush on Vil and was cheering her on just like she cheered for Daisy and Ruggie, hoping for an opportunity for her friend to spend more time with Vil. 

“Oh, uh- yes. Yes, you may. Uh... Daisy…”

“It's alright, Yuu. I have a date with Rugs anyway.” Daisy smiled at her friend, but then noticed Vil’s glare. “Don't worry! I won't be eating anything that's out of our diet, I promise! Well… I'll leave you two alone now.”

With that, the blonde left, and an awkward silence fell between Vil and Yuuna, as the girl fidgeted with her fingers, unsure of what to say or do. Vil wanted to chuckle at Yuuna's actions, you see, he was aware of her puppy crush for him, how could he not? She was always flustered around him, rarely looked him in the eyes and sometimes even stuttered. He’s seen this sort of thing all the time, not only in acting but in his real life, with how his fans acted around him.

Though, he had to admit, Yuuna was… cuter with the way she acted.

“I’ve been meaning to ask for your help with something.”

“My help?” This time, she lifted her head, what could the Vil Schoenheit possibly want from her? “How may I serve you?”

“You make it sound like I'm bossing you around… but anyway.” He sighed, but continued. “Before you ask why I am not asking Daisy for this, she already has a lot on her plate by suddenly being chosen as a new member in our group for the VDC and teaching Epel and Deuce ballet… not only that, she's already got a boyfriend.” Yuuna tilted her head slightly. What does Daisy’s relationship with Ruggie have to do with this…? “I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend for a while.”

Yuuna stared at the boy in front of her for a long time, her brain still trying to process what he just told her, then, when she finally managed to understand, her cheeks turned red. Suddenly she felt hot, and her resolve to look him in the eyes was gone as she moved her face to the ground and frowned.

“W-what do you mean? Why?”

“Though I am confident in my own abilities and beauty, we are competing against Neige LeBlanche of all people. I’ve figured, we must have another way to call people's attention to us, just a small bonus that would make people rethink who they like better.” He crossed his arms, a confident smile on his face as he seemed to enjoy how Yuuna suddenly got shy. Don't blame him, he wasn't trying to be mean, but she was just too cute. 

“So I would be your joker card?” 

“Exactly, my dear.” He walked up to her, lifting her head gently with his finger under her chin. She bit the inside of her cheeks to compose herself. “It would catch a lot of attention if I was shown to be gentle not only with my fans and staff but with my partner, wouldn't it?”

“I guess…” Yuuna said, pushing his hand away from her gently, she didn't want him to think his touch was unwanted. “Why me, though? I mean, I understand not asking Daisy because of her relationship with Ruggie but… I'm not nearly as pretty or-”

“You're beautiful.” Vil reassured her without hesitation, making her shiver at his words. “And besides, you're elegant, and you have a certain aura about you… one could say you're almost mysterious if they didn't know you in person.” He chuckled at the way she let out a small giggle at his words. “You're strong and courageous as well, you intrigue me, and also… I see you as a friend. You’re perfect.” At that, Yuuna’s eyes widened as she held her breath. Vil realized what he has just said and, clearing his throat, he tried to explain. “Perfect for the role, it's what I mean."

Yuuna felt a bit disappointed, but she should've expected...

“You're girlfriend, huh… well, what do I gain from it?” She asked, jokingly smiling at him. Vil rolled his eyes, but his grin showed he didn't mind the question.

“If I'm being honest, I don't really have anything to offer, but… I could donate my share of the money to Ramshackle once we win. That place could use some work.”

Yuuna laughed at that. Yup, Ramshackle definitely could use that money, plus if she was being honest… she wondered how it would be to be the object of Vil’s affections, even if for just a little bit, even if it was just pretend… she wondered how it would be like to hold him and for him to hold her back, what it would be like to hear him say ‘i love you’.

She extended her hand to him, a shy smile on her face.

“You have yourself a deal, Vil.” 

The boy smiled, grabbing her hand firmly but gently. He brought it to his lips and delicately kissed her knuckles, one, two, three times, leaving the girl absolutely flustered at his affections. 

“I’ll be under your care then, my love.” 

Suddenly, Yuuna wondered if she made the right decision, but she pushed the thought aside as her heart raced a mile per second. It should be fine, as long as she let her crush stay a crush. As long as she reminded herself that he was an unattainable celebrity too good for her, and that they were doing this for mutual benefit.

It would be ok… she hoped.

Yuuna: Surely my crush for Vil can’t get any worse-

Vil: Want to pretend to be my girlfriend?

Yuuna: …

Yuuna: IT SURELY CAN GET ANYWORSE-

THIS IS SO CUTWE THE WAY OF HE THINKS OF YUUNA :((( I WANT TO KISS THEIR CHEEKS TUG THEM IN BED AND MAKE THEM CUDDLE 😭🩷🩷

I LOVE IT SO MUCH MAHH UR SCENARIOS WILL FOREVER MAKE ME WIDE SMILE

[aparticularbandit]

21 of the angst ask got me thinking about Agnes and Agatha. (Curious what you could with pairing one and two tho)

well, i mean, i can also do the other one. (and by can i mean plan on it just. will post it separately.)

also idk why it decided to double small the stuff i copy-pasted from word. alas.

dialogue prompts - angst edition

21) “You made me miserable and I still loved you.”

tw: discussion of rape/non-con

“I was…I was you.”

Agnes says the words, but she doesn’t understand them, can’t comprehend being the lived in prison for a woman as wonderful as Agatha is, refuses to believe that the memories she has of her parents – her siblings – are an entire false construct, that if she tries to call her mother, no one will answer.

That is, unfortunately, what prompted the entire conversation.  She has no mother to call for the holidays, no large family with whom to share Thanksgiving now that she and Ralph aren’t together anymore and he doesn’t insist on keeping these sorts of things to themselves, no children who are happily spending their holidays with their families, which should feel better because it means they aren’t actively ignoring her for years at a time, but doesn’t because it means she has no children and no grandchildren, even though she can very clearly remember each of them and each of their names.  There was—

She flinches, and something like static flicks through her brain, and almost immediately she senses a need to change the subject of conversation, except she’s her own person now – apparently she wasn’t before, apparently she hasn’t always been – and she can remember the subject and she doesn’t want to change it, she wants to remember her sons’ names, only there’s an absence where those names should be—

Agnes bites her lower lip.  She turns away from Agatha.  She crosses one arm about herself and raises the other hand so that she can chew on her fingernails.  It’s a bad habit.  Her mother used to paint her nails so that she would stop chewing on them – the fingernail polish tasted horrible and kept getting stuck in her teeth – except…except if Agatha is right, none of that really happened either.

“I can’t…I can’t have been you, hon,” Agnes says, trying to convince herself more than Agatha.  “I would have felt you, crawling about in there.”

Agatha sighs – and Agnes can’t see it, turned away as she is, but somehow she knows that Agatha is pinching the bridge of her nose – before saying, “The day after Wanda disappeared from Westview, your husband Ralph came home drunk on tequila, told you that if you wanted to save your marriage then you would suck his cock, and then proceeded to choke you while fucking you up the ass because he couldn’t handle how much you told him it hurt.”  Her eyes narrow as Agnes turns to face her again, but the hatred Agnes feels wafting off of the other woman has nothing to do with her, she’s sure of it.  (At least, she hopes.)  “For two weeks afterwards, you wore turtlenecks and scarves to hide the bruises, which was perfectly acceptable, given how cold it was outside.  In the third week, the bruises finally faded, but dear old Ralph came back late, even more drunk than usual, his eyes so bloodshot red that they terrified you, and this time you didn’t complain, not because you didn’t want to, but because you couldn’t breathe—”

”Stop.”  Agnes wraps her arms so tight around herself that it feels like the morning after again, sitting naked in her bed with Ralph long gone, sore in places she’d never wanted to be sore, trying to breathe around sobs that wracked a throat that felt like it had been crushed under her husband’s hands.  “Ralph wasn’t so bad, you know,” she whispers, more to comfort herself than to defend her ex-husband to Agatha.  “He brought home flowers every day for a week after that.  Violets.  Daisies.  My favorites.  If you were there, then you would remember how he tucked one of them into my hair and told me that they made my eyes pop.”

Agatha steps forward, reaches out, and cups Agnes’s face with her warm hand, fingers just stretching into her hair.  “Your eyes are like the ocean,” she says, mimicking Ralph.  “I feel like I’m drowning in them.”

Agnes shivers and steps back out of Agatha’s touch.  “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, hon; I’m trying to—”

“Read my mind and learn all about my past and the thing you use to make me believe you is that.”  Agnes can’t spit the words out because that would be harsh, aggressive, and she still doesn’t know how to be either of those.  Anger may not be a four letter word, but rage is, and that’s close enough.  She knows what it is to be upset and frustrated and hurt, but she’s never once used those emotions to lash out at someone, and she certainly isn’t going to start doing it now.  Still, she can’t meet Agatha’s eyes, can’t stop her own shivering, can’t stop the tears she knows are rolling down her cheeks.

“I’m not reading your mind, hon; I’m—”  Agatha cuts herself off.  She hesitates and then tries again, voice much softer.  “After Wanda left, your back started killing you,” she says, gentle as anything.  “You went to the doctor – to a lot of doctors – but none of them could ever tell you what was wrong.  Your back was just fine.  You were completely healthy.  But whenever you leaned up against it just wrong, you felt a sharp stabbing of pain, and whenever Ralph pressed his fingers against—”

“Please don’t mention Ralph, dear,” Agnes interrupts.  “I think you’ve said enough about him.”

Agatha nods, accepting this.  She turns away from Agnes and then slowly lifts up her shirt until her back is exposed.  “Look.”

Despite her instinct to turn away from Agatha, to give her the privacy she must need, Agnes obeys, and what she sees makes her eyes widen in shock.  She steps forward, one hand outstretched, and then stops herself.  “May I?”

Agatha glances over her shoulder and gives a little nod.  As Agnes runs her hand along the thin white scars etched into Agatha’s back, feeling each tensing of her muscles as she does, Agatha explains, “They don’t cause me pain the way they once did; Wanda fixed all of that, but when she made you, she didn’t know they were there.  She made your back look normal, but she couldn’t just take away scars she didn’t know I had.”  She flinches again.  “Your hands are cold, hon.”

“I’m sorry, hon, I—”  Agnes steps back, swallowing.  “You’re saying my back hurt because it was your back because I was…I was a curse for you.  Wanda cursed you to be me.”

“Yes.”  Agatha pulls her shirt down, straightens it.  “That’s why your mother isn’t answering your calls.  She’s not—”

“You must have been miserable,” Agnes says, slumping down onto the edge of their mattress, hands on either side of her.  “That’s…that’s horrible.  Everything Ralph did to me—”

Agatha turns to her.  “I thought you didn’t want to talk about him, dear.”

“—he did to you, too.”  Agnes’s voice grows even quieter as she says this.  She starts to shudder, her entire body shaking in a way she cannot stop and cannot control.  “You weren’t…you didn’t….  I….  But you—”

“Shhhh.”  Agatha stepped towards Agnes as she spoke, and now she sits on the mattress next to her, taking one of Agnes’s hands in her own.  “Don’t yourself by thinking too hard, darling.  It won’t do you any good.”

Agnes presses her lips together so hard that her teeth draw blood from her soft flesh.  “You never would have let him—”

“That was part of the punishment, dear.  Part of the curse.”  Agatha rubs her thumb gently against the back of Agnes’s hand.  “You had to give in, dear, and he had to hurt you.  I needed to live through hell.  That was hell.”

Agnes glances up, stares at Agatha curiously, and can’t help but ask, “If you hated being me so much, dear, then why are you still here?  Don’t I just….”  She looks down, unable to keep her head up.  “Don’t I just remind you of all of that?”

“Sometimes, yes,” Agatha admits.  “I hated you at first, you know.  I wanted to kill you as much as Ralph did.  But the longer I spent stuck in you, seeing how hard you tried, seeing how much you wanted, seeing how good you were….”  Her voice trails off, but her thumb continues to stroke the back of Agnes’s hand.  “You made me miserable,” she says, voice soft, “and I still loved you.”

Her words send a spike through Agnes’s heart.  She ponders them, echoes slow, refusing to believe, barely glancing up, “You love me?”

Agatha meets her eyes, and a sad smile creases her lips.  “I suppose I do, dear.  I suppose I do.”  She reaches up, tentative, and then slowly wipes away Agnes’s tears.  “You deserve so much better, sweetheart.  So much better.”

It’s instinctive, the way Agnes curves easily into Agatha’s touch, how she places her hand over Agatha’s and holds it there, against her cheek.  She’s never been very active in these sorts of situations – although, given what Agatha has just told her, that’s less her and more a construct made of false memories that Wanda had given her, a personality that she holds to that doesn’t truly have to be hers (although, if she’s honest with herself, she isn’t sure how much she would change, isn’t sure that she can change that much) – but she can change this in this moment—

Agnes crosses the – admittedly small – distance between them and meets Agatha’s lips with her own.  She thinks on how, really, they’re the same person and kisses Agatha the way she would want to be kissed – gentle, at first, delighting in the feel of Agatha’s warm, soft lips plush against her own, before parting them just enough to let her hot breath mingle with Agatha’s in the softest of invitations, only moving her hand from Agatha’s when she accepts the invitation, when her tongue slips gentle across her lips.  Agatha’s had moves through her hair, cups – cradles – the back of her head, holding her so, so gently, and on instinct, Agnes nips the tip of Agatha’s tongue.  Her heart races with fear, but Agatha purrs, “Oh, Agnes, hon,” with such pleasured longing before kissing her back that Agnes is sure her instincts are correct.

The heat rises in more than just Agnes’s cheeks as Agatha’s free hand moves to her waist at the same time that Agnes’s moves to hers.  But Agnes doesn’t feel the same hesitation, the same care that Agatha does, and so her hand moves beneath the edge of Agatha’s shirt, fingers searching for sensitive spots she knows on her own body, waiting for the gasp of pleasure as she traces one fingertip, slow, across Agatha’s skin.

“You won’t hurt me, will you, dear?” Agnes asks, voice quiet and afraid, pausing just long enough to meet Agatha’s eyes, to search the pupils already grown wide.

Agatha doesn’t flinch away.  “Never.  I would never hurt you, angel.”  She doesn’t drop her gaze, only asks, “Is this what you want?”

“You don’t have to ask—” Agnes starts to say, but then remembers you deserve better, and instead, she nods, says near breathless, “Yes.  You’re the only person in the world maybe who has ever loved me, so please.”  She hesitates, searches for the right words, and then says, “Take care of me.”

At her words, Agatha slowly begins to lean Agnes back along the bed, and although Agnes’s heart races, she does not stop her.  “I will take such good care of you, pet.”  Instead of letting her fingers slip beneath Agnes’s shirt, they begin to trace the inside of Agnes’s thighs.

Agnes takes in a sharp breath.  “Be gentle with me.”

Agatha brushes her nose gentle against hers, breath hot on her lips as she says, “Always.”  Then she covers Agnes’s mouth with her own, swallowing the soft moan into her mouth as her fingers move beneath Agnes’s skirt, a moan that only grows louder as one runs along the pad of her underwear.  But it doesn’t stay there; Agatha cups her ass and squeezes, slowly moving her thigh between Agnes’s legs until Agnes whimpers.  She stops, searches Agnes’s eyes, waits for a nod to continue but doesn’t get one, only gets Agnes grinding against her leg, eyes wide and hungry.

Agnes flinches as Agatha’s fingers brush her waist when she removes her shirt, and her muscles tighten as Agatha’s lips find the soft skin of her stomach.  “Agatha, please, dear, I—”  But then Agatha hits that spot – that spot – and Agnes’s hips rise, grinding harder against Agatha’s thigh, and she’s always been so good about her language, but here she can’t be – a gasp followed by “Agatha, fuck, fuck, Agatha, fuck me, fuck me, please, Agatha, please—” – and then Agatha’s hands are on her thighs, spreading her legs, squeezing her skin, and despite it all, Agnes wants – she wants – and when Agatha returns to kiss her lips again, breath hot on her skin, Agnes presses her hands beneath Agatha’s shirt, finds where her bra cups her breasts, and palms them, squeezes them, just as she bends to suck Agatha’s collarbone.

Agatha breathes her name out – “Agnes” – and she sucks harder until she hears it, hears “I love you,” and then she peppers kisses along Agatha’s neck, across her jaw, until she finds her open mouth again, and tugs on her lower lip.

You’ll love me more, Agnes thinks, when I do something other than make you miserable, and this time when her hips raise, she wraps a leg around Agatha’s waist and pulls her down flush against her, grinds not against the thigh she’d been given but against the spot she hopes is just as wet for Agatha as it is for her.  Agatha rocks slow against her.  Much better than an unmoving thigh.  Agnes lifts Agatha’s shirt off, peppers kisses along her exposed skin.

When Agnes takes Agatha’s hand and guides it where she most wants it, Agatha interlaces their fingers and tugs their hands away, murmuring, “Not yet, babe,” amid Agnes’s most desperate whimpers.  She just smiles, kisses her neck, and purrs, “You told me to take care of you, hon.  I’m doing just that.”

And for not the first time in her life, Agnes believes her.

[epickiya722]

Actually Hans Christian for Anderson describes her as white. Not that it matters, I just don’t like it when people use false information.

Though in his book she’s not named Ariel, she’s the sixth child. And she gets her tongue cut out. So The use of she wasn’t described as a certain color in the source material doesn’t really hold up. But Disney barely used the source material except for it’s sort of skeleton framing of the story. The climax and the villain were all very original. Aside from being a sea witch and taking Ariel’s Ursula isn’t much like her book counterpart. So people should stop hating on The move because Ariel is race swap (she is).

And honestly, if people is going to keep bringing up her skin tone, here some news to all those idiots out there.

Believe or not, there are PALE SKINNED BLACK PEOPLE. Just like redheaded Black people exist. Black people born with blonde hair. Some are born with freckles. Some are born with green or blue eyes.

If people are keep bringing up that Ariel and the little mermaid in the book has pale skin, then they going to have a field day knowing that Black people are still capable of being casted to play her because not all Black people have are dark skinned and brown eyed.

Halle Bailey was casted because she is talented. It's not a woke up move. It's a movie about a damn mermaid.

They keep bringing up how Halle Bailey isn't being "original", but Ariel never was herself. I read that story. And guess what? I have watched movies that stick closer to the source than Disney has. There's this movie called "The Lure" and guess what? Used the original ending from the story. Spoiler alert! The mermaid turns into seafoam from a broken heart! The animated movie sticks about 0.05% to the story. People want to defend its "originality" also need to be aware that this is the same corporation that has 98% of it's material "inspired" by other material.

Had a lighter skinned girl was casted to play her, I wondered of people would have the same reaction. Oh they would! Because what about a PALE WHITE SKINNED girl has been casted? Not someone White, but I mean a black girl with pale skinned. Oh they would still be in their feelings, but they couldn't say crap because guess what? Ariel is pale skinned. "Ariel is white." Yes and anyone who is pale skinned is white. They're paper white, white as daisies, the fallen snow!

"No, like white white."

"Just like how every person who is brown skinned is Black?! Oh my gosh then by your logic, Ariel is still white in this role!"

Honestly, I really don't care what anyone thinks about The Little Mermaid 2023. Halle is Ariel now and if they're in their feels about it. Then boo hoo hoo. Grown people really upset because a black women is casted to play a fictional creature. Wanting it to be "realistic"? Ursula has 8 limbs, Flounder and Sebastian are talking sea animals, Scully is a talking bird, Ariel's hair should have been flat against her hair because physics...

If people are going to complain about her being brown skinned than yeah, they're racist and they're very miserable with themselves. They're only "caring" about this movie now because she's not pale. Mind you, these are the same "fans" that whined about Turning Red or had criticisms about Encanto. Hmm. I see a pattern here.

[latibvles]

I get so excited whenever you do director's cuts because your mind is so big and powerful and I love seeing you explain how you come up with stuff :) I was wondering if there's anything you can share about Daisy's relationship with her parents? You've mentioned her mom would send her to a convent if she cursed or smoked, and their dynamic in the flashes of interactions we see is super intriguing

Yes I absolutely can! Just to get things out of the way — Daisy’s mother is named Irene Clarke and her father is named Donald, so for the sake of simplicity we will be referring to them as Irene and Don just to make things easier.

Daisy comes from a home where traditional values and modern worldview have been kind of mixed. What I mean by this is that her parents wanted her to be a well-educated young woman, while maintaining Christian values. So no smoking, no drinking, premarital sex is ABSOLUTELY off the table, etc etc. However yes, we will support your dreams of going to nursing school, we’re so proud of your achievements, and we want you to be happy. She loves them both a lot.

A little bit of background here is that Irene and Don got together before WWI, Don was sent to Europe to fight upon the U.S entering WWI, and when he came home, they got married and had James and Daisy a bit after that. Keep that in mind. The Clarke family is sort of meant to represent the All-American family, at least on the outside. They’re very picturesque, when Daisy talks about them to people she knows, that’s the impression they get.

Irene is a stay-at-home-mom. She’s religious, soft-spoken, emotional at times, but very very empathetic. She gets overcome when it comes to the topic of war — she didn’t think Don was going to come home honestly. She and Daisy were very close because Irene was always at home taking care of the house. Daisy worries about her mother a lot, that much is very very evident. Irene wouldn’t literally send Daisy to become a nun for smoking or cursing but she would express a lot of disapproval/disappointment for it. Soap bar in the mouth, that kind of thing.

Sometimes Daisy felt like she had to be the strong one for the two of them, sometimes being the only daughter meant taking care of the parents. Irene showed up when it counted, but is far from a perfect parent. Sometimes she pushed too hard, sometimes arguments between them never went resolved and they just sort of buried it. But Irene took her to every ballet practice, she kissed her goodnight until Daisy didn’t need to be tucked in anymore. They’re close as mother and daughter can be.

Now Don is the family breadwinner. I don’t have a specific job for him but I always imagined he works in sales or insurance — a proper 9-5. She’s the spitting image of him, she’s got her father’s dark eyes and wavy dark hair, his dimples, etc. But Don wasn’t… around as often. He worked hard, brought home money and tried to be present when he was home. But he’s a veteran. And sometimes when you’re playing with your kids, you may get that look in your eye, or you might think you see the enemy in that tree in your backyard. Fourth of Julys are hard to enjoy when Dad can’t watch the fireworks.

He’s protective because that’s his little girl, his only girl, and that protectiveness was instilled into James too. He’s less strict on her because Irene has that covered. When she was a kid she used to dance on his shoes, he’d pick her up for the tree topper. There’s a distance between them now that she’s away. He disapproved at first and had to warm up to the idea. She was going to leave regardless of his approval; sometimes she wonders if he ever truly approved, or if he was just surrendering.

Her relationships with her parents are, ultimately, complicated. Because parents aren’t perfect, and you can love them while also acknowledging that they made mistakes— that Daisy has and still is reconciling with her own traumas of growing up in an environment where it wasn’t … The Best but also one where they really did try to do right by her.

in reference to this.

[somethinginrocknroll]

Spooky Season Day 3-

Word count: 1121 

POV: Roger

Series: LIYF

Time Range: October of '70

The cold is making my van make all these sorts of cranking noises; I don’t know if I should finish my drive or return to the flat to switch cars. The destination is closer than the start, plus if we return to the flat, we would never leave due to our bundle of joy making it hard to depart from home. My love, with her unwashed yet still smelling like daisies, brunette hair in a messy bun, and hazel angelic eyes, face out the window to see the orange and yellow leaves fall from the trees. 

“I have a feeling we’re late,” Scarlett’s stare from the window ended.

“We have a five-month-old. Of course, we’re late,” I sighed, “But I believe Elaina’s bug was still outside.”

“Right… yeah, we’ll probably be waiting on Elaina.” Scarlett chuckled before finally getting off the road to the dirt surface driveway. The van luckily made it to the parking spot, and I got out. I walked around, trying to help Scarlett out, but the stubbornness that made me fall in love with her was also my greatest downfall when I tried to be a gentleman. She hopped out of the van, but her shoes got stuck in the mud, making her almost lose her balance, but I caught her. 

“Got you,” I kissed the vein popping out of her temple, “No need to be snobby about it. Would you rather get all muddy?”

“I wouldn’t care,” Scarlett snickered.

“Until you get cold,” I helped her out of her mud imprint. My arm is stretched on Scarlett's sternum while Scarlett’s hand is holding mine, rubbing her thumb on my hand. Her arm is hooked around my waist with her hand in my jacket pocket to keep her hands warm. Brian, Chrissie, Fred, Mary, Thomas, Maddie, her boyfriend Theo, Milo, Kelly, and Simon are all at the front of the clown decore, staring at their watches. 

“There's two,” Simon pointed at us; my shoulders tightened as Scarlett dug her face in my neck.

“It’s okay. He’s not going to kill you,” Scarlett whispered before kissing my jawline, looking ahead, and walking to the group.

“Where’s my favorite nephew?” Simon looked at us.

“With my mum, we had to wait for her,” I chuckled.

“How come Star didn’t watch him?” Simon asked.

“Her, Geo, and Des went to New York, George has some album stuff, and the Dylans invited them for Halloween, so they’re staying in the states,” Scarlett explained. 

“We’re here!” Elaina ran over, knocking my girlfriend down. I quickly let go of Scarlett as she fell to the ground, smothered in soft mud and grass.

“El!” Scarlett groaned.

“Sorry,” Elaina yucked the mud off as Alex looked at the two girls. Scarlett wasn’t mad about the soil, but Elaina knocked her off her feet. 

“Can we please go in?” Fred’s inpatients groaned. I helped Scarlett up and tried to take some of the mud off. 

The two girls got decently enough mud off of them, and we walked into the clown’s mouth to see this dusted-looking carnival. Clowns filled the place with the rest of London. Scarlett stayed close due to her slight unannounced fear of clowns, and her now damp-muddy clothes chilled her as the wind blew. 

“What about the Ferris wheel?” Thomas pointed.

“Y’know how dangerous they are?” Milo asked.

“No need for you to be Dr. Buz kill, darling,” Freddie snubbed as Mary chuckled.

“Come on, live a little mate,” I chuckled.

“Would you go on it?” Milo asked.

“No, Heights and I aren’t the best of mates.” I shook my head. We walked around to argue about what rides as a whole to go on. We finally settled in the mirror maze; this looked fine at first. No jump scares or anything. 

“Do you think it’s right or left?” Scarlett asked.

“Well, I mean, if you walk the wrong way, you’ll hit a mirror,” I explained. 

“Left,” Scarlett started to walk left before I grabbed her by the waist and stuck my hand out to see if it was a mirror or not. I leaned forward before eventually losing my balance and falling. I thud on the floor, following a groan with my body aching.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Scarlett failed at hiding her laugh. 

“This is not funny,” I mumbled as Scarlett helped me.

“Maybe a little,” Scarlett kissed my cheek, “But it’s okay. You made sure I didn’t walk through glass.”

“I can’t have my little wolf hurt this pretty face of hers,” I kissed her nose.

“Yeah, but don’t do it every time, or you’ll hurt yourself, Lion,” Scarlett grabbed onto me while we walked through the maze. We turned a corner, and a bunch of fake spiders jumped on top of us. I jumped close to Scarlett as she chuckled at my fear of spiders. She grabbed onto me to guide us away from the spider hall. Scarlett lightly teased me, but my payback came once a thing of snake jumped out on us. 

“Who’s the scary cat now?” I asked Scarlett as she jumped into my arms.

“Shut up,” Scarlett mumbles.

“Want to come down?” I looked at her as she shook her head and kissed me.

“I’m perfectly safe in my Lion’s arms,” Scarlett smiled as I felt a flutter as she looked at me. Scarlett helped us complete the maze. She extended her feet or arms to touch the glass. Once we finished the maze, we waited for our friends. Scarlett dragged us over to the cotton candy machine. Certain things made her inner child come out, making me want to smile. We bought our sugary snacks. Scarlett bit the pink cloud like an apple and got the candy all over her face. I turned to see the sweets and couldn’t help but laugh.

“What?” She innocently asked.

“Baby, you got melted Cotton candy all over your face,” I sighed. Scarlett tried to wipe it off but made it worse. I grabbed a few napkins and helped her get the candy off her face.

“Thanks,” Scarlett’s face turned rosy. I smirked before bringing her face up to kiss her.

“If I keep buying you Cotton candy, you need to know how to eat it right,” I showed her as Scarlett shrugged and returned to her childish way. 

The group finally caught up with us. Luckily we finished our snack before they came. The sky started to look gloomy, and the carnival looked dusty. Scarlett stayed close as our friends chattered. 

“Rog, when’s the next gig?” Theo asked while embracing Maddie.

“Halloween. It’s in Liverpool,” I smiled. 

“Where in Liverpool?” Maddie asked.

“The cavern, darling, nothing but the best for the best,” Freddie intruded.

[child-of-the-nights]

hi! could you write something for shadow weaver? maybe after she survives and decides to get in the path of an actually good redemption arc, you're dating her whiel she's still in the castle, you brush her hair, helps her with the plants, and overall stay and have faith and patience. i just really want some fluff ✌🏼

Damn, I didn’t think I would actually get a Shadow Weaver ask but I love this idea! She’s my fav from the show, so I’ll try my best ^^

A/N: Please, if you don’t like Shadow Weaver don’t go sending hate to people who like her character. If you see this post and you don’t like her, please don’t interact  with it. Thank you! ^^

Life in the castle changed greatly after Shadow Weaver started living there. Everyone had their own duties, since there was still so much to do for Etheria. Glimmer and her friends took care of most of the things but sometimes they required Shadow Weaver’s help as well. Ever since she decided to actually try to change, people started to be less wary around her. Obviously, the suspicion never went away but the tension, whenever she was in the same room as them, started being less permanent. 

When she wasn’t available, for whatever reason it might be, the group often asked Y/N to help them decide on some stuff as well. It was exhausting for both parties but what had to be done was done at least. And while working together, Y/N and Shadow Weaver have found love. On the rare occasions, such as this day, when they didn’t have anything to worry about, they spent their time together. 

Today they decided to hang out in Y/N’s room, since it was much brighter than Shadow Weaver’s. Usually it wouldn’t matter to either of them, but Y/N came up with the idea to brush their beloved’s hair and try to braid it. Sure, they weren’t an expert at it but they wanted to sort of “reward” Shadow Weaver for working on herself. 

“Have you ever braided your hair before?” Y/N asked while brushing Shadow Weaver’s beautiful black locks. 

“I’m pretty sure, my dear, that everyone has tried doing so at least once in their life.” she chuckled. “Why are you asking?”

“Well, I was just curious whether or not you would like me to braid your hair too?” they shrugged. For some time, neither of them spoke. Y/N stopped brushing her hair and looked in the mirror to see Shadow Weaver’s face. Well, rather her mask. The sudden silence worried them and not being able to see her expression just made it worse. “I mean, if you don’t want to, I won't! It was just an idea.”

“Sounds lovely to me, my dear.” she nodded after some thinking. “I was simply just taken aback by your boldness.”

“Oh, sorry... I completely misread your reaction.” they chuckled awkwardly. “Then I’ll get to it!”

And with that being said, they started braiding Shadow Weaver’s hair. It wasn’t an easy job, as the older woman had so much hair, but they were able to find their way around it. While braiding, Y/N and Shadow Weaver exchanged a few words, most of those being jokes. Not many people would’ve thought but Shadow Weaver actually had a humorous side. Surely her humor wasn’t for everyone but Y/N enjoyed it and that was all that mattered. 

It took quite a while to finish her look but when Y/N was done, they happily looked in the mirror to see Shadow Weaver’s reaction. Though it was kinda hard to tell, she actually appeared to be happy. Shadow Weaver stood up and, though they couldn’t see it, smiled at Y/N. They went in for a hug which was returned by her. These were the moments where Shadow Weaver wondered what she had done to deserve such an amazing person as Y/N. 

“I greatly appreciate this.” she released her beloved. “I also would like to express my gratitude for your faith in me.” With a swift hand motion, she used magic to materialise a daisy behind their ear. “There. You look ravishing, my little daisy.”

Y/N looked in the mirror with a face that could be mistaken for a tomato. Shadow Weaver giggled at the sight and put her hand on their shoulder as she swooped behind them. Soon they started snickering as this was a moment when they truly felt happy. Even if life was hard at the moment, they both found peace within each other. 

Sure, Shadow Weaver had many flaws, most of them in being abusive, she truly wanted to change. And it wasn’t easy, nobody said it would be, but it was much better with someone by her side. With the patience Y/N had, Shadow Weaver was sure she had a chance of true redemption. These were one of those moments that proved to her, and everyone else around them, that there’s a happy end for her as well.   

“I’m going back to my garden.” she stepped back. “Would you like to help me with taking care of my plants?”

“You’re willing to let me into your garden? I can’t say no to that!” they smiled. “Let’s go.” Y/N walked to the door and opened it for their girlfriend. Shadow Weaver just shook her head with a sigh and walked out while Y/N followed her.

.

.

.

And some general headcanons, ‘cus why not:

It takes her quite some time (and I mean months) to take off her mask. She does trust you, however that’s her biggest insecurity. Even when you already comforted her about her appearance, she’s still hesitant to take her mask off. 

One of her ways to show that she truly loves you is teaching you how to properly take care of her garden. Shadow Weaver shares her tips with you and jokes about what you shouldn’t do, as she learned that the hard way. She also tells you what each flower means as a gift. 

She always rambles about magic. Even if you don’t understand it, she appreciates that you listen to her. If you ask some questions about something, she tries breaking it down to you, so you can understand what she’s talking about. 

On the other hand, if you know how to do magic, then it’s a mutual thing you two bond about. She’s willing to teach you some spells if you’re willing to share your knowledge with her. For obvious reasons she already knows most of the stuff you talk about, but as she finds out, there’s still things she didn’t know about magic. 

Even if she loves you, her abusive behaviour is still something she struggles with. Sometimes she snaps and says things that aren’t very appropriate. When she realises what she has done, she tries to make it up to you with something. It might be a date or a gift, but most of the time it is not put into words. You have to work on that with her because it’s hard for her to admit her wrongdoings. 

Generally, she appreciates that you have the patience and faith to help her as she has given up on herself before. 

That being said, she barely tells you things about her past as Light Spinner. Most are about the magic she learned and that she was Micah’s teacher, but that’s as far as she’s willing to go. No more and no less. 

I hope you liked it! ^^

[yanderenightmare]

hie!!! just read you're dragon warrior bakugo where he turn into a literal golden dragon, DUDE it was so dark and so poetic I loved it, pleeeaase part two?

I’ve actually had this in the works for some time but didn't think that many were interested hehe, thanks for proving me wrong<3

dragon warrior king ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

goodiebag WARNINGS: trauma, slavery, kidnapping, condescension, anxiety

PART ONE

MUTE AND NUDE - PART TWO

THE KING AND HIS NEW TOY

Floating, flying, dreaming. She felt reality tug at her every now and again, trying to pull her into consciousness, however she was pleasantly drifting with her eyes tightly locked. The smell of mountain daisies in the breeze, she could almost taste the salt of the sea that wafted up there, not entirely sure it was all in her mind. How she wished to see the sea up close once, and not just from afar. To feel the sand between her toes, to laugh nervously at the vastness of it all, all the secrets buried down there, sometimes washing up on the shore like treasure. Her vision trailed the stripe of sand she could spot from her village in the mountains, suddenly imagining herself down there, with a great shadow looming above, the water turning red and thick and boiling before catching fire, she heard screams, cries, the smell of metal and the taste of death, death, death.

She awoke abruptly. Flailing in the air like some knocked lantern. The pixies dodging her kicks and whips, holding onto the gems and paints midair. Currently hand sewing her customized dress, bejeweled with rhinestones and gold, cold smooth brushed lining her skin with art. 

They knew the procedure, Bakugo had a new toy, and she were to be dressed accordingly; royally. 

The pixies swung around her like bees around their beehive, small squeaky voices simmering about and buzzing in her ears. One caught her eye and her flailing subdued then, as the tiny brown-haired brown-eyed fairy blew sickly-sweet dust into her face, nerves somehow forcefully brought to their knees. “I’m sorry.” It seemed to her that the utterance had multiple meanings, as the look on the fairy’s face contorted into one of deep sorrow, as though in mourning for  the unfortunate soul that had fallen into Bakugo’s greedy attention.

Not much dawned on poor girl after that, and if it did, she didn't seem to mind the foreign things happening around her. How she was fussed around with, spoiled even, with flowers and gems and fabrics, unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Fitted to perfection and adorned with a small tiara made up of flowers, poppies if she were to guess with the limited knowledge she had through books, as the harsh environment of the mountain doesn't allow for such frail things to grow.

Her doe eyes; softly fluttering every now and again, barely even feeling it, when her feet hit the ground, still bare. Perhaps she didn’t even realize they belonged to her, seeing how they were robbed of their red mud and clay. More and more, steadily coming back to her senses, she remained calm under the pressure of her strange surroundings. Creatures she’d never known existed, colors she hadn’t ever laid eyes on, perfumes that stung her nose in a pioneering act. She remembered death, she remembered fire, and the burning cold of sharp, deadly eyes. She feared that it was those same red eyes she was being prepared for.

Her mouth remained shut. Her silence casting a confusing spell onto the guards, however unaffected the busy pixies swirling about her in a working frenzy. The sounding of a horn didn’t shake her either, however seemed to dismiss the ones nitpicking at her ensemble, as well as signal the guards.

They didn't touch her, but their eyes did well in escorting her to the havoc outside. She didn't see much except for fire and shadow. Yet, mismatched tones of gold seemed to unsettle her even more than the different shades of red. 

She was guided to his side, gestured to sit down on the throne next to his. She didn't faze too much upon her surroundings, managing to keep somewhat of a respectable composure, even as girls and boys from her village caught her eye. They hadn’t murdered everyone it seemed, not the pretty ones at least. They were putting on a show, inexperienced in the art of dance, but no less amusing to the hooded ravagers, she guessed.

She held her tongue and assumed an aura of harmony, therefore not accepting anything given to her. Drink, food, trinkets, they were swarming her as if she were some shrine. She supposed she, more or less, was just that, which was more than what she had been before, but somehow less at the same time. 

The nerves trembled beneath her skin, as she did her best to calm her frightened state. She searched the spread sprawled out before her, wanting to accommodate to the new scenery. However, it proved to be quite difficult, as she felt the intense stare of the boy on her right, his eyes singeing and freezing her all at once. Having not dared look to him yet, the pressure of meeting those eyes of his, too much of a scare.

Sharp jewels stuck into her skin, and although she was used to gravel, they still managed to achieve her discomfort. “Not enjoying yourself?” 

She cleaned up nicely. He could see her complexion clearly now, soft and smooth glowing skin between what raked scratched and gashes marred it. He wanted to pull Kirishima’s teeth out as punishment for biting her arm so ruthlessly, but knew that would be foolish as neither of them could have known of her importance. It could very well have been him who had printed his fangs into her, yet it would more likely have fallen off then.

It took her longer than she’d like to admit before she understood the question was meant for her, and although she could speak, the thought of answering seemed so far out of reach. She didn’t know how he would want to be acknowledged either. What do you say to a King who massacres entire civilizations? What do you even call such a person? The title tyrant came to mind, but it seemed distasteful.

Even if her hesitance angered him, he didn’t let his temper prove it. And when her eyes flickered ever so slightly in his direction, his annoyance more or less faded away; replaced. “You’re thinking of what time will be the best to escape, aren’t you?” 

The hairs on the back of her neck rose at once when she heard his voice again, realizing the moment to answer his previous question had passed, and how he, this time, was accusing her not of ingratitude, but of deserting. 

“Wondering where you will go, where you even are?” She could spot the eerie smile from the corner of her eye. At least his teeth were wiped clean of gore this time, yet… they still managed to make her ears shift in discomfort. “Hmm...” He scoffed, then chuckled a laugh that somehow sounded like thunder, like barking. “Let me help you.” 

He shifted in his seat, leaning in closer to her. His fingers grazing her forearm, causing her to lightly gasp. Claws ever so slightly digging into her skin. 

“You could make a run for it through the foliage of the trees.” She felt the earnest, wanton pressure in his touch, furrowing her brows in both confusion upon his words and in a plead for mercy. “But I should warn you... the forest is much denser and darker and deadlier here, than it is in the mountain.” His voice; so very casual in its threats, the voice of a King. “Even if I felt so generous as to give you a head start, we would probably catch you before the night let up. It wouldn't be much a game for me, but you are welcome to give it a try if you want.” He was taunting, haughty, stroking her arm... almost lovingly. “Besides, any attempt at running in that dress will be a show.” His hot breaths hit the side of her neck in waves, as she felt the still foreign need to say something linger on her tongue, but she swallowed it. “What’s your name?” This was a question she needed to answer, yet… it was also the one question she had no answer to.

“I-” 

That was the first time she’d ever spoken. Sure, she’d sung for him… but that wasn’t her, that was… something else… something inside her, her but not her at all at the same time. 

She didn’t quite know the words, know them as in being comfortable with them. She’d heard them, she knew what they were supposed to sound like, but… they still seemed so foreign on her tongue as she rolled them around in her mouth, teeth grinding together. 

To his surprise, to his complete shock, she turned her head to look at him, face wiped clean of… well… blood, and alongside what panic displayed on her features there was also a look of something he couldn’t quite place, but almost as though she was asking for his help, or his patience as she pieced together the words. He nearly gasped as she placed her small hand over the calloused knuckles of his where he was digging his fingers into her arm, the action so parallel to his intentions, looking up again to be met with her soft eyes as she spoke with even softer words. “I- I ha-ave no na-ame…” She looked awkward, as though she’d bitten her tongue and was preoccupied with the metallic taste of her own blood, looking at him, eyes asking if she were at all understandable.

“Right… no point in giving a mute a name.” His tone was brisk, without anger and it helped with establishing confidence in her as it also aided in answering her question if she was understood or not.

“Wh-” She started, this time seemingly a smidge more confident in her determination. “What do I call you?”

He would be lying if he said it didn't take him aback. And he wasn't one for telling lies.“You’re not like the others.” He announced, small quirk playing on his lips. “Katsuki.”

She was unsure whether she should give it a try or not, trying to mouth it under her breath so he not hear her. “Ka- katsu- ki.”

He gave a sound of acknowledgement, a grunt of some sorts, an eyebrow raised in suspicion at her, watching as her gaze shifted onto the ongoing festivities before the two of them, her chin slightly raising, eyes flittering to perceive things he was sure was for the first time. Her hand remained on his, velvet against sandpaper, as though she found comfort in it, a safety of some sort. He enjoyed the gesture as well as that thought; sinisterly so. Her chastity so desperate in need of corruption, in his eyes.

He made to stand, bored of the display before him. This girl posed more entertainment than anything the circus could give him. “The air is thinner in the mountains…” 

He reached out a hand, gesturing for her to take it. Reluctantly, or rather anxiously, she agreed, wondering what purpose hid in his words. 

“The change of climate will be overwhelming for you.” 

Slightly provoked by his words of condescension, she made to stand her ground, but felt an overbearing weight nest in her mind. 

“You’ll get migraines.” 

She looked confused now, staring at him, a crinkle between her brows. 

“Your body isn’t accumulated to this environment yet.” 

Her mouth suddenly felt dry, as she stumbled slightly. He locked her arm with his, helping her down from the podium. 

“The effects will come soon. Blood pooling in your feet, weighing you down and dragging you to the ground, blood leaving your head, nausea and unbalance.”

He didn’t seem all that effected by what he was saying. Not exactly nonchalant, but amused. 

“Could be you can’t even walk!” He grinned, chuckling when she whimpered, almost falling to her knees. “Your muscles, bones even, not strong enough to carry your own weight.” 

Wincing as he pulled her to a carriage. She couldn’t remember if it were the same one she woke up it. But, something about the atmosphere told her it wasn’t, something about the invasive smell of burnt sugar. 

“You’ll feel the ache in your limbs soon, gravity isn’t generous.” 

Before she knew it, she was placed in a bed, his hand stroking her cold forehead. 

“Especially when you’ve hardly ever felt the full might of its power.” He sounded sympathetic, and in her state she couldn’t tell if it were sincere or not. His hand traveled down her cheek, stroking a thumb over her lips. “There were more things I wanted to establish, but I underestimated the toll the descent would have on your health.” Scarred fingers stroked down her throat. “You’ll have to survive the sick before anything.” Tracing her collarbones. “If you’re strong, the fever will pass before we reach our destination.” Down her chest, as though holding back in savory, where if her eyes were able to focus she’d see him lick his lips. “But... the up and coming days will probably be hell for you.” 

She didn’t feel much of anything after that, except for the foreign warmth accompanying her in her slumber, two large arms tightly locked around her midriff.

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Getaway

The trip to Scotland.

cw nausea and vomiting but no details I promise, fainting I think?  I don't really remember, dizziness, food mentions, let me know if I need to add something more I haven't looked at this chapter in a while and I a posting in a rush.

Martin’s hand is damp in his.  The same tacky, salty grit of the Lonely fog.  A little bit of fog trapped between their tangled fingers, or maybe just the anxious sweat of two people who don’t really know each other as well as they should.  

If Jon is being honest, it’s not a comfortable sort of hand holding, but he doesn’t care.  He will keep clinging to Martin’s hand as if that single point of contact can keep Martin weathered to the physical plane.  

It makes packing more difficult, but Jon doesn’t care.  Not as if he hasn’t been living out of a backpack for months, or anything.  (Longer still if you count living off a shelf before most of his belongings were ruined in the flesh attack).  Still, he stuffs in the few items not in his back, and takes a healthy stack of statements and shoves those in, too.  Probably depressing that he can fit those in a single bag with all his earthly belongings.  

Jon doesn’t feel well.  

He hasn’t felt well in a while.  But the exhaustion is getting to him.  Apparently shredding a person with his mind is a bit rough on the body.  Even if the supernatural hunger is more than sated.  

Heh.  The unnatural feeling of being content and full and powerful at the same time as hallow and shakes and weak.  It would be enough to make him dizzy, if he wasn’t already dizzy.  If he hasn’t been dizzy constantly since statements were limited to empty paper, as if he hasn’t been dizzy since his early 20s and his POTS diagnosis.  (And before, but that’s where he was still convinced it was nothing).  

Jon is loathed to let go of Martin’s hand when he starts Daisy’s ancient car.  It’s more than a little beat up.  Jon tries very hard not to remember Mike Crew’s blood in the back seat.  It’s clean now.  Mike’s blood and Jon’s vomit long since scrubbed away.  Nothing quite like being carsick at gunpoint.  

Jon shivers.  

He can’t let himself think about Daisy now.  Such a confusing jumble of anger and fear and sadness and regret and friendship and comradely and resentment.  It’s… it’s too much for him to take in.  

He hasn’t ever been able to reconcile his feelings about Daisy, and now it’s worse.  Worsened with his exhaustion.  They were friends, they were enemies, and he couldn’t give up on her because that would mean that he was also lost.  She hurt him and she loved him in a way.  He couldn’t forgive her and  she was his closest friend for a while.  She was terrible, is terrible, but she was all he had and he loved her for being there.  It’s too much to think about.  And Basira.  Christ, he feels terrible losing Daisy like that, and yes he loved her in a way, but he wasn’t in love with her like Basira is, and he knows the helplessness and emptiness of losing someone he’s in love with.  

He shakes his head roughly.  The bite of headache and way the world sickly twists in and out of focus for a moment distracts him enough to start the car.  He looks over at Martin, pale but solid.  He reaches for Martin’s hand as he drives them to Martin’s flat.  

Jon has to do most of the packing for Martin.  Martin more attached to him than free thinking individual.  Drifting after him, pulled taught by their tethered hands.  A balloon pulled along by the wrist of a small child on a rollercoaster.  Although Jon can’t fault him for that, he thinks that might be an apt description for how he’s feeling.  …Pulled along by unknowable forces beyond his control.  And he’s flapping helplessly in the breeze of a battle far bigger than him.  

No.  Focus.  

Martin.  

Shove clothes and toiletries and tea and books and a few items that Jon judges to look treasured.  A worn stuffed tiger, a few faded pictures, a deck of tarot cards, he even takes the ratty binder that are shoved under the other ones (the nicer ones that Jon has already packed with the essentials), a tattered notebook under a layer of dust, a well loved poetry book, a small box of earrings, and what looks to be Martin’s knitting.  

It’s still a pitifully small amount of luggage for an indefinitely long trip.  The large first aid kit that he found makes him feel a little better.  (Emotionally, but also physically after he downs some paracetamol.  He eyes the dramamine, but he’s going to be driving and he can’t risk getting drowsy.  It’s not like they have time to stop).   

Nausea twists down deep before Jon even starts the car.  Catching at his stomach as he settles Martin’s bags in the back seat.  Still trying to search out the stains that are long gone.  

And oh fuck he killed someone.  

And yeah the bastard deserved it, but Christ he feels sick.  Sitting behind the wheel, staring blankly ahead.  

Martin’s hand in his.  

Martin squeezes his hand.  

Jon squeezes back.  

It’s fine.  He’s fine.  Just… Just drive.  

It’s the next step, and he has always been good at pushing from one step to the next.  Don’t worry about what happens next, just drive.  

Martin is here and… not fine, but alive and whole, and slowly thawing next to him.  

“Hey…”  Jon forces his tight throat and tighter chest to allow the word past.  

They haven’t spoken since Basira told them where to go and gave them a ring of keys.  

This almost shakes Martin out of his stupor.  Almost.  “Hey,” he echos.  

Jon wants to pack so much into a question.  How do you ask everything?  Are you okay?  Do you love me?  Do you know I love you?  Do you need anything?  Are you sure you want to come all this way with me?  Are you okay with moving in with me?  Are you hungry?  If the fog comes for you, will you tell me?  But those are too many words.  Martin starts looking glazed over when there is too much going on.  Too much movement, too many people, too much sound, too many questions.  And Jon wonders if the Lonely only served to magnify this, and if so, did he notice?  Did Martin hide it well?  Did Jon make it worse?  What if he makes it worse now, but what if he makes it worse by not saying anything.  

“You ready?”  This will have to be enough.  

Martin nods, apparently not noticing the pause.  

Jon tries not to jump out of his skin when Martin starts rubbing circles on Jon’s hand.  It’s surprising, but it feels nice.  

More than nice.  

Jon starts the car.  

It’s chilly.  Late September.  And it’s getting dark.  Both in that the sun is going down, and in that storm clouds are gathering.  

Jon knows they can’t stop for the night.  

He just has to get them to Scotland.  Hopefully then it will all be okay.  

They stop at a service station just out of the city.  Jon gets a black coffee.  He buys Martin a tea and a sandwich.  

He knows the coffee won’t do his stomach any favors, and will more likely than not set his heart to hammering, but it will be worth it not to fall asleep at the wheel.  

He can’t let Martin drive until Martin looks like less like a space cadet.  

But Jon hopes the tea brings color back to Martin’s face, even if he can’t quite tell in the sickly light of the service station, or the dim light of the evening as Jon tops up the petrol.  

Highway before and behind, and Jon is throwing up.  Pulled to the wrong side of the road in the dark and the rain.  Trembling as Martin rubs his back and gently pulls back his hair.  

They aren’t even halfway there.  His heart is beating too quickly.  Anxiety?  Caffeine?  POTS?  Nausea?  Who’s to say.  But Jon is miserable, but there isn’t much choice, because being a passenger will make it worse, even if that would mean he could take some medicine.  But Martin is in not fit state to drive.  And Martin must know that, because for all his soothing, he doesn’t offer to drive.  Or he almost offers, but Jon can see the thought die on his lips.  Besides, Jon is fairly certain Martin can’t drive a manual transmission car.  Not that Jon is particularly good at it, and stalled the engine twice leaving London.  

The occasional car and lorry thunders past.  On the side of the road, Jon can feel their movement in his core.  He worries how he will get them safely back on the road, as he spits in the dirt.  

“Sorry.  Let’s go,” he mumbles his embarrassment to Martin.  

He tries to ignore the pitying look that Martin has fixed on him.  

“Sure we can’t stop?”  

Jon shakes his head, and the dizziness threatens to take him down.  He sags against Martin for a moment.  “Can’t risk it.  Perils of being on the run, I’m afraid.”  

Martin frowns at him.  

“I’m fine.  Just… tired and… well, carsick.  We’ll be there by morning.”

“Yeah and the fact that you basically collapsed against me is something I’m just supposed to ignore?”  

Jon waves him off.  

The brief conversation seems to have stolen all of Martin’s words.  He quietly gets back in the car, and Jon shudders and sways without Martin’s warm bulk holding him up.  

He starts the car, and takes Martin’s hand.  

Just a few more hours.  Then they can rest.  

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Whump you say? Geralt gets Hanahaki

I’ve been waiting for you, Anon. I’ve been waiting for this prompt specifically and boy when I tell you I might have cried writing it...

2k ish (a little less) words long. Idk why y’all were worried, it’s me. It’s gonna have a happy ending.

tw: Hanahaki, blood mention, illness, angst with a happy ending, whump with a happy ending ---

It had started up just before they parted ways for the winter; Geralt had quietly coughed a handful of rose petals into the corner of his cloak and hidden them from sight as Jaskier gave him their yearly parting embrace. “See you in the spring, Geralt!”

“Hmm.”

You might not ever see me again, actually, the Witcher thought. He tried not to let anything show on his face; not his fear and certainly not his longing, but he ached to tell Jaskier that he loved him and that he’d miss the bard’s presence through the long and dreary cold of the winter months. Geralt also knew that if he told Jaskier the truth about his feelings that he may never set eyes on the bard again anyway, regardless of how the disease currently wracking his body developed over their time apart. He was sure that Vesemir could identify whatever the strange illness was; the old swordmaster might even have a cure ready to go in the old storeroom. If not, they could send for Triss. 

“Safe travels.”

“And you as well,” Geralt nodded curtly. He mounted Roach with all his usual grace and ease, biting back another cough and tasting the sickly sweet floral note of rose rising up his throat to coat his tongue again. 

---

“Fuck,” Vesemir sighed. “It’s Hanahaki disease, Geralt. It’s not going to be easy to cure now that the pass is full of snow.”

“What’s Hanahaki disease?”

“It’s-” the eldest Wolf Witcher scrubbed his hand over his bearded face and took a moment to compose himself. He’d seen it happen before. He’d seen human bodies buried in the ground with entire root systems crawling from their chest cavities. He’d watched young men and women alike cough entire violet or rose or daisy buds from their mouths while they shivered with fever and seemingly unending pain, but a Witcher? Vesemir hadn’t even thought it was possible for a Witcher to contract such a frivolously deadly illness. “I don’t know exactly how to explain this to you, Geralt.”

“I won’t go screaming into the hills, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” his middle-child joked, “I can’t run very far anymore without a coughing fit.”

“I can’t send for Triss or Yennefer, either. They won’t be able to do anything,” Vesemir spoke calmly and evenly. Geralt, propped against some pillows on adoptive-father-enforced bed rest raised an eyebrow. “It’s a disease that eats at you from the inside out. It latches on to, uhm, romantic feelings and grows with them until it overtakes its host completely. Or until the host, uh… confronts those feelings head on and admits them to the object of their affection.”

“So this is…” Geralt’s eyes were wide and terrified. The eldest Wolf had never seen the stoic boy look quite so scared before, and he’d seen him go through the Trials. “This is going to kill me, is what you’re saying.”

“Who are you in love with, you stubborn oaf!?” Lambert cried, marching into the room from where he’d been lurking in the hall. He startled the other two Wolves and Geralt coughed out another handful of petals. The blood that came with them was surprisingly new. 

“What do you mean!?”

“He means,” Vesemir said, as slowly as possible (so that even the great Geralt of Rivia would understand his situation), “That until you tell this person how you feel, the flowers inside you will continue to grow and dig their roots in and, if you never tell them how you feel at all, you will eventually die.”

“Then I guess my fate is sealed,” Geralt smiled sadly, settling himself back against the pillows. “My time as a Witcher is up. Coughing up flowers isn’t the worst way to go, all things considered.”

Lambert growled angrily. “I’m not ready to lose my brother yet, Geralt, so just tell us who you’re pining after and we’ll go fetch her back!”

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?!”

Geralt, growing increasingly more feverish and already exhausted from everything that had happened that afternoon, closed his eyes. “Because he deserves better than me, Lambert. He deserves so much more than I could ever give him and I’m not about to steal him away like a selfish ass and force my feelings onto him for my own sake. I’d rather die.”

“Self-sacrificing bastard,” the youngest of the Wolf Witchers snarled, storming from the room. “Ass! Cock! Fool!”

Vesemir could only nod his agreement and follow silently after.

---

Jaskier read the letter once.

Then he read it again.

After a third time through he was sure that he hadn’t misunderstood the contents.

Dear Jaskier (aka Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, Prof. of the Seven Liberal Arts at Oxenfurt),

I am Eskel, brother to Geralt of the Wolf Witcher School at Kaer Morhen. I write to you now to ask for your presence at the keep. Geralt has fallen gravely ill and will not likely make it through the season. He does not know that I have written to you, but as his best friend and companion on the Path, I thought it my duty to invite you to see him one last time before he’s gone for good. He’s loathe to admit it, but he misses you and fears for your safety come springtime.

Sincerely,

Eskel of the Wolf School

Somewhere beneath the bright embroidery of his doublet and the hand-woven muslin of his chemise, Jaskier’s flighty, deeply-loving heart shattered into a million pieces. 

He grabbed his heaviest woolen cloak from its peg near the door and made for the stables at once.

---

“Geralt!”

The White Wolf opened his eyes a sliver to confirm that he wasn’t hallucinating again; ah yes. What a lovely last dream to have before I die. Standing in the middle of his bedroom at Kaer Morhen, covered with still-melting snow, was Jaskier. The bard’s blue eyes were brimming with tears and his bottom lip was wobbling violently as he gazed upon the Witcher’s withering form.

“Geralt, what’s wrong? Your father and brothers sort of explained it to me but I’m still not sure what’s happening. You’re dying?”

“Don’t worry, bard,” Geralt smiled. A loud, sudden cough wracked his body and he bent over double, spitting a blood-spattered but fully-bloomed rose out into his cupped palm. He laughed joylessly and tossed the bloom onto his bedside table. “I’ll be out of your hair, soon. Won’t this be a last ballad to write, a wolf dying as he’s eaten by flowers?”

“I don-”

“Hush,” Geralt rasped. Jaskier dropped his cloak to the ground uncaringly and rushed to his Witcher’s side. He sat on the edge of the mattress and took Geralt’s closest hand in his, grasping the appendage to his chest and sobbing into the sword-calloused skin like his tears might save his best friend’s life. “Don’t be sad, Jaskier.”

“I am sad, Geralt! I’m absolutely fucking terrified and heartbroken and crushed! Vesemir said you could heal this at any time but you just… you just won’t because you’re stubborn and an idiot and the sweetest goddamn man I’ve ever met in my life! How dare you tell me goodbye when you are perfectly capable of fixing this problem yourself! How could you promise to see me in the spring and then break your word by dying well before the grass turns green again?! You bastard!”

“You won’t miss me after another year passes,” Geralt reassured him, flexing the hand still held tight in Jaskier’s grip. “You won’t even remember me by the time the first daisies spring up.”

“How dare you,” the bard cried again. He pressed a nervous kiss to the tip of the Witcher’s pointer finger before letting go completely and dropping his head into his own hands. “How dare you say those things to me when you know full well that I love you with all my stupid, fragile mortal heart. You asshole.”

“Wh...what?” 

“I love you, Geralt!” The Witcher stared up at his friend with nothing but confusion written across his handsome features. Jaskier reached out, wiping a smear of blood away from the corner of Geralt’s mouth as tenderly as any maiden in any of the bard’s favorite romance novels. “I love you and I’ll never forgive you for letting yourself die on me like this.”

Geralt blushed. He stammered. He coughed up two or three more bloody roses and Jaskier tossed them all into the fire with rage blazing in his cornflower irises. 

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything on this gods-forsaken Continent and now you’re going to take yourself away because you’re, what, scared of something? Is it Yennefer? If she’s refusing to help you then I’ll ride all the way to Vengerberg by daybreak and then I’ll break all her fucking fi-”

“I love you, too.”

“What?” Jaskier asked, stopped mid-rant and mid-thought by the Witcher’s sudden admission. “What did you just say to me, Geralt? If I didn’t misunderstand, you said you loved me too.”

“I did. I do! I have loved you for a rather long time, actually.”

“Well, I’m glad we’ve settled that,” Vesemir said from the doorway. He turned on his heel and disappeared. “See you both for breakfast tomorrow, I’m sure. Well... maybe breakfast is being a bit optimistic. I’ll see you for lunch.”

“What did he mean?” the bard asked. His eyes flitted between the empty doorway and Geralt’s guilty grimace. “What the fuck did Vesemir mean when he said he’d see us at lunch?! You’re still clearly dying and I-”

Geralt felt his fever receding and coughed experimentally. There were only a few brown, half-dried petals that fell from his lips. No blooms. He coughed again and nothing came out of his mouth at all. He grinned and laughed, tugging Jaskier up onto the bed and against his broad chest. “Vesemir was right!”

“What the fuck is going on?!” the bard begged. His hands twisted into the neckline of Geralt’s shirt, holding him still and steady. Blue bore into gold with such heated intensity that the Witcher thought he might pass out regardless of his recently healed disease, “What just happened!?”

“I- I told you I loved you and it cured the Hanahaki!”

“You had fucking Hanahaki and I was the cause of it? Oh Geralt, I’m so sorry! I should have noticed sooner! I should hav- Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“I didn’t think you loved me back.”

“You didn- Geralt, have you been paying any sort of attention for the past seven or so years? I follow you everywhere, I bandage your wounds, I put food on your plate and a pillow under your head whenever we get the chance. I bathe you and mend your clothes when your fingers are too stiff from practicing your forms to do it yourself… you utter fool. You buffoon. You great, dumb, goofy, idioti-”

He was cut off by Geralt bringing their mouths together with such gentle but insistent pressure that all Jaskier could do was melt against him. His hands unwound from the shirt and stabilized against the Witcher’s pectorals instead. He sighed into Geralt’s mouth, swallowing down the happy sounds his dearest Witcher made in return. When they were finished pouring out their affections they sat, breathless, curled against the pillows of Geralt’s enormous bed. 

A large pointer finger slipped beneath Jaskier’s chin and tilted his face up, locking their gazes, “This isn’t how I wanted you to meet my family or see Kaer Morhen for the first time, but I’m glad you came. I know the journey through the snow couldn’t have been easy, even though I’m sure there was some magical assistance.”

“For you, my love, I’d travel the pass barefoot.”

“You’d die of exposure.”

“Not if your life was on the line,” the bard murmured against those flower-chapped lips. “For you, Geralt, I could survive anything. Just as you must swear from this moment on to survive whatever you can to make it back to me.”

“Will you go back to the academy until spring?”

“I’m never leaving your side again, Geralt of Rivia. Come flora or fauna, you’re stuck with me for good.”

“Hmm. Good.”

“Just… Just don’t bring me flowers any time soon.”

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 11 - Student Council President Sakura / Graduation Chapter

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Youtube playlist for your reading accompaniment

They held a run-through of the graduation ceremony on the last day of class and technically the last day of the trio’s high school life. Unlike their first general assembly, Uchiha Sasuke was to deliver the graduation speech but not without great sulking from Haruno Sakura who landed a close second despite ranking first in their final exams.

And obviously, not without Sasuke trying to give up his speech privileges by campaigning instead for Sakura.

In the end, all three of them were granted speech slots – one for Sasuke as valedictorian, Sakura as student representative, and Naruto as the school’s first national MVP. It was this debacle that led the three of them to brainstorm in an empty AVR after the dry run.

“Done!” Sakura yelled like the diligent student she was. “Let me look at yours!”

Sasuke presented her a blank paper while saying, “It’s all prepared in my head”, and Naruto showed her his baseball doodles.

“Oh God, you’re all so hopeless.”

Then the electricity suddenly got cut off in the AVR. Sakura expected the boys to screech in surprise and cling to each other, but she only heard silence in the dark. She jumped in her seat when the doors opened with a loud bang, a confetti splash, and the lights coming back to life.

Sasuke and Naruto were still in front of her, holding two bouquets of irises and yellow roses. Behind them were the old and new student council members with other students holding a large banner saying Thank you, Student Council President Sakura!

She started to leave her seat to come to them, but they gestured for her to stay on her seat. In front of the room, the large monitor beeped and showed a compilation of videos.

Sukehiro Aoi, an alumni and currently an intern in an animation studio. “Hello, Ms. Pres. You once asked the body to submit a publication material for an event of the student council, and I sent mine through a dummy email with no expectations of winning. I wasn’t comfortable with the public seeing my art. I was afraid of the unsolicited remarks so sending it anonymously gave me some relief. You chose it however, and you knew how big a credit was to an artist. I was really scared when you were able to hunt me down just by my watermark, but my name in the info blast caught the attention of a school board member and referred me to this animation studio. It was the littlest thing, but you handed me my dream.”

Watanabe Kota was a year below them. He has a small frame, round thick glasses, and battled with face acne. “Ms. Pres! People never had much confidence in my physical appearance, so I don’t know what you saw in me when you asked me to take over the school radio. But here we are – we’re airing daily and we even produce documentaries and radio programs. Thank you for seeing what I didn’t.”

Ito Amanaya, a typical jock in the football team, muscular and came across as intimidating, but he had the gentlest cadence. “I was bullied by the same group that bullied your dynamic duo. When you ran them off, you also saved my life. Thank you, Haruno.”

Kimura Shinze, a classmate in third year, beautiful, popular, and the captain of the cheering squad. “Hope you’re having a great day, Ms. Pres. Remember that time when the class was guessing who were our crushes and I blurted out that it was a girl, you told me thank you for telling us. That was…a big deal to me. Thank you for that gesture.”

Himurata Aoi, president of the koto club. “Sakura, I know you had many people come up and confessed to you so when I did try, I was glad that you didn’t give me a bullshit reason like you’re not into girls. You turned me down because you have someone you already love. I am thankful for your honesty.”

The biology teacher, Takahashi Kande. “Student council, thank you for your mental health program. As a single father to twins, I don’t have the luxury of time to sit in a couch and sort out my issues. To be able to do that in my workplace during breaks is a heaven-sent gift. You saved me and my family. Thank you.”

Many more messages came on, from a classmate she lent spare change to, from a staff she helped clean, from countless students who she wasn’t aware she gave kindness to.

“Why….” She asked breathlessly.

“You’ve been beating yourself lately. We thought you needed some reminding,” Sasuke muttered, under his breath, the bouquet still in his hands. “You left some pretty big footprints, Ms. Pres.

“You might not have noticed,” Naruto jested. “But this is always innate and natural to you, isn’t it?”

“Why did you bother so much?” She was reduced to tears.

“It was Naruto’s idea.”

“Huh? You did all the compiling though!”

“Shut up, it was me,” yelled the current president.

“Thank you, everyone.”

--------------------------------

It was a weekend, but Sasuke requested Sakura and Naruto to meet him at the school gates. He only gave the time and place, and he knew well enough that they would be there – no questions asked.

They stood there, minutes earlier than planned, a first but nothing more unusual than homebody Sasuke asking them to go out on a weekend. Sakura wore an oversized rust shirt over a pair of muted cotton blue trousers tied with a brown leather belt and tan fisherman sandals, her long hair kept in one single braid at the back. Naruto probably expected a fancy lunch with his outfit – black silky long sleeves over gray pants and black loafers.

Sasuke, high on impulsive decisions, wore bright colors, a complete departure from his usual neutrals; mustard vest over a deep violet polo, baggy pants, off white converse, and a white fanny pack. “Well, we’re mostly dressed for comfort, except for that idiot beside you.”

“What do you mean dressed for comfort? I borrowed these loafers from my vice-captain and my feet aren’t used to them,” Naruto whined. “Besides, aren’t you taking us out to a five-star meal, Mr. Valedictorian?”

“Wow, what a way to show off.” Sakura pursed her lips in annoyance. “Don’t worry Naruto, I got your next café order.”

“Ah no. It was just something we heard from the grape vine.” Naruto scratched his head and carefully glanced at Sasuke. “Grumpy got his trust fund today.”

In bated breaths, they waited for him to respond with a scowl or a retort, but he just nodded. “Come on, we’ll miss the train.”

They traveled for three stations and disembarked on the fourth, Sasuke sandwiched in between the two, his shoulders pillows again to their heads and yet such burdens were light as cotton. The surfacing emotions since last week were taking hold of him, but he needed to pull through somehow because breaking down while commuting was one thing he did not really see doing.

“Word just got in. The house was turned over this morning,” Itachi told him over the phone.

“Impeccable timing when I’m also moving abroad next week.” Sasuke pulled out his Bleachers vinyl and anticipated another lonesome lull for the night.

“Do you miss the cream puffs?”

“Nothing comes close.”

“Hmm. I’ll pay for the rental fee of your car.”

In Itachi’s defense, while he was an afficionado of escapism, he also knew how to read between the lines. “Watch me get a Mercedes-Benz.”

“I have a good driving playlist.” This only meant math rock, and Sasuke wanted something to scream his lungs too.

“Don’t need one.”

“Treat your friends to dinner, okay? Gotta go.”

“We’re walking?!” Naruto almost limped out of the train. Sasuke took one look at his heels and saw that they were bruised red. He took off his converse and socks and gave them to him.

Sakura whipped out a small first-aid kit and covered the rash on Naruto’s heels. “Hey don’t look at me like that. Brought it just in case we’re going on a day survival tour. A camping would be nice too.”

“Did you scrub your feet, idiot?”

“You think so low of me grumpy. Of course – last week!”

With Naruto now comfortable, the three resumed walking on the unfamiliar residential area. Sasuke gestured for them to enter a bamboo forest on the far side of the main road. Hidden in the shadows of the clumped stalks were a small opening, the growth hampered and ground rid of grasses and weeds; many people have also chosen this shortcut, walked through the forest, did a little nature bathing, and emerged behind the bakery, still there, still standing, still operating.

Sasuke tapped on the large glass window cum counter on the front and bought three sets of cream puffs.

“Oh, it’s you,” the old baker greeted. “You brought your friends over? You always buy one set.”

Sasuke offered her a smile, briefly glancing to his periphery where Sakura was fussing with Naruto’s feet, and nodded as he accepted the paper bag. “It’s on the house, kid.”

“You brought us to stalk someone’s house?” Sakura dug in one paper bag, bit the puff in one bite, and with full mouth, she sighed. “This is heaven.”

“It’s our old family house, before the accident that is.” Sasuke also took out one puff and munched on it, ruminating on the sight before him, a two-story house with an imposing façade, his mom’s climbing hydrangea gone and cut by the new owners, beds of roses and daisies already withered, but the wisteria tree on the vacant lot beside continued to grow and shade what he supposed were the children’s rooms. It was in his third bite that he saw the tomato fruits he planted, alive and full with harvest. “Do you think my parents know?”

Naruto slid an arm across his shoulder and grinned sheepishly. “Then they would be happy ghosts or maybe they would voluntarily move away to give the new owners the opportunity to make it a happy a home like yours.

“What part are you gonna miss?” Sakura asked, halfway through her set of puffs.

“The sight of the wisteria before I sleep and after I wake up, and the sunlight in my parents’ room. My dad liked to make these suncatchers for my mom. The play of light was a good morning greeting, she said.”

“What’s your funniest memory?” Naruto sat on the grass, uncaring for the stains that would taint his good pair of pants.

“It was probably Christmas when I was seven, and Itachi had this big idea to bake a cake, but he swapped the sugar for the salt and we were wondering why it wouldn’t make a custard. Our parents still ate it, saying it was a very salty version of dark chocolate cake.”

“It was a good home,” Sakura patted the space between her and Naruto and Sasuke sat down cross-legged too, dipping his hand on the paper bag with the last cream puff.

“It was a good home,” Sasuke agreed as he bit into the last vestige of his family memory. He was suckling the powdered sugar off his fingers when he realized he was already crying, and the two were downright sobbing on his either side.

Such an embarrassing sight to see; he wondered what would the new owners feel if they looked out their windows this instant and saw three teenagers breaking down on the road across. It was honestly stupid and laughable to a point, considering how funny it was for grief to become lighter when someone else cried with him.

Naruto was sniffling so much that he had to offer his handkerchief to him. “I forgot to tell you guys. Hinata confessed to me during the cultural festival.”

“Oh my god. What did you say?” Sakura took a tissue out of her bag and dabbed her eyes. She flashed an apologetic look to Sasuke who already offered his hanky to Naruto’s fluids.

“Ah, what else? I had to reject her.” Naruto sneezed on Sasuke’s handkerchief again. “I told her I was in love with someone else.” He slyly glanced at his raven-haired friend and pursed his lips which Sakura quickly caught.

“Who is it?”

“Sasuke also likes someone.”

“Shut your mouth, blondie. Point is already moot. Besides, we’ve already been rejected.”

“Who are these people and why don’t I know them?” Sakura genuinely looked offended. “I could have vetted them!”

“Exactly why it was fortunate you didn’t meet them,” Sasuke said as an excuse though he pegged Sakura for not being that naïve. She, thankfully, let it go and gathered their trash. She dropped the bomb as she was brushing the grass blades from her trousers. “My parents are divorcing. Such a travesty not to have them show up on graduation day, and I thought I did a great job.”

The two, ever so sure, held onto her hands in case she was trembling again.

“Let’s get that five-star dinner,” Sasuke suggested, “and we need to rent a Mercedes-Benz.”

--------------------------------

Graduation Day

“Let’s welcome to the stage, class valedictorian, Uchiha Sasuke.” Kakashi was the officiating faculty today so she expected difficulty going through the event, but for some reason, he slipped into her mental back burner, no longer taking up room in her active consciousness. That was a good step, she smiled to herself. Her smile became wider as Sasuke got up the stage.

His fans club’s cheers were heard outside the auditorium, and the graduating class chuckled at the quick interruption. He cleared his throat and started his piece.

“Please get it on record that I was coerced to do this speech. Then again, I also had a hand on the turn of events that led me here today, in front of you. And it’s a little too on the nose, but I came to high school with a clear set of goals – have high grades and lead an uninteresting life. I accomplished the first one rather easily, and it’s a good metric for the future that’s upon us right now. Good grades land us good colleges. Good colleges land us good jobs. Good jobs land us good life.

But it’s not the sole benchmark as I have learned lately. You see, my second goal really missed the mark. Good life can also mean good friends, fun experiences, a caring environment, a complete family. If you ticked off each one, then that’s very notable. You have the four-leaf clover, and it’s a rare blessing. I only ticked off three, but that goes without any regret. If you only have one silver lining in your high school memory, then that makes us all the more human. And if there’s none, there is still is still a whole stretch of possibilities we can discover to find one. Thank you for your kind attention.”

Sakura was pretty sure she heard several sniffles across the student body. “The bastard delivered a good speech,” she muttered to herself.

“We would like to welcome our first national MVP, Uzumaki Naruto.”

Outside, the school band played the cheering anthem for his last national games. The cheerleaders also did a routine in tribute to him. That made him well up when he got to the podium.

“Wait oh my god, I’m tearing up so much.”

Sasuke grunted loudly and went back the stage to hand him a handkerchief which Naruto quickly used to wipe his snot.

“Thanks Sasuke. How can Kakashi-sensei let me follow after that rousing speech, and before Sakura too. It’s kinda evil.”

Laughter broke out.

“Well, this one’s a bare minimum. I didn’t have any goals or expectations, unlike genius grumpy over there. I just wanted to live my life like an ordinary boy. Someone said that how you spend your day is how you live your life so I did just that – ate ramen, slept in class because I am a growing kid, and played each arcade game until I won them. I also believe in serendipitous – thanks Sakura for this word, for the spelling and meaning – serendipitous coincidences. I just pitched and batted for former captain Haru one afternoon and now we landed in the national finals. I had loneliness for a friend, but now I’ve got all of you. And you know what else, the magic of working together. We wouldn’t have stepped foot in the nationals if it weren’t for your collective help. When we work towards a common goal, that also gives us common happiness, right? It’s infectious, a bouncing energy that gets thrown around and still makes it one piece. So wherever you will be after this, believe it!”

When Kakashi called her name next, she thought she was deaf, the noise around her collapsed in muted decibels. It took a minute before her fellow classmates shook her and motioned for her to quickly come up the stairs. Her silver-haired teacher looked so concerned in the shadows, but for what it was worth, she was civil and calm enough (at least in the matters concerning him) to nod at him in quiet exchange of assurance.

It was because she saw both of her parents at the side with a bouquet of roses. She struggled with the paper she brought with her although she had it memorized in her head; she even went through it flawlessly for three times last night. Tears blurred the words and the mere shock of the sight of their togetherness disabled her mental function to string coherent thoughts. She also started hyperventilating, her breaths coming faster than what her lungs could pump.

Then she felt Kakashi’s hand on her shoulder, a steady presence, and it reeled her back to reality. He tapped the mic and the feedback echoed. “Ah, Ms. Haruno had some technical issues. Again, let’s welcome former student council president, Sakura.”

Sasuke and Naruto in the front were almost standing, but she flashed them a smile as if to say she was okay now. “Hello, good day to our honorable guests and graduates. I think it’s safe to say that Sasuke and Naruto provided really good words of advice. So I have nothing more to offer, but to share my gratitude. Everyone was saying the student council did a good job in its programs, but it was actually the lot of you who made this possible – from your activity suggestions to participation and feedback. After all, you were the makers of your memories.

Earlier last week, my councilmates and friends reminded me how small actions go a long way – a smile, a wave across the hallway, a short exchange of good morning and see you soon, and I thought, aren’t we all just an accumulation of these small, little things? As such, it was what you think your insignificant moments were that pushed us to deliver you the best. It was the passing comment, the top-of-your-head tips, the interlude stories we hear during lunch breaks that allowed us to give you grand gestures and memories we hoped were worth keeping. And if we could start to use that perspective as well in our lives then maybe the uncertainties of a future wouldn’t be so heavy on us. We will face tomorrow with a lightness in being.

In behalf of the student council, thank you for allowing us to serve you.”

She bowed at a level where her torso was almost aligned at her hips, and she was confused with the lack of reaction. Sakura sighed, mulling over the deficiencies in her speech, but she straightened her back to a sight of a standing ovation and a thundering applause.

Then, she let her tears fall.

--------------------------------

“Why would you let Kakashi-sensei take the pic?” Sakura hissed at them.

“Just this one time, Sakura!” Naruto grinned.

“Sakura, you’re out of the frame,” Kakashi remarked. “Okay good. Say cheese.”

In spite of her recent heartbreak with him, she permitted herself to bask in fleeting cordiality. “Cheese.”

“Grumpyyyyyy.”

“Idiot blondie.”

Kakashi took three more shots and handed the camera to the trio. He almost turned away when Sakura caught his sleeve.

“Just one more,” she said. “With you.”

Sakura shifted to the front, almost kneeling with the camera angled for a selfie, her two friends beside her looking equally annoyed as the other, and Kakashi behind them, his hands on either head, smiling with his deceptively charming beauty mark.

It was the last picture of their high school life.

--------------------------------

The three were rushing through the airport crowd fifteen minutes before the immigration closes gates.

“Here!” Sakura slid a folder on the large pocket on Sasuke’s bag. “It includes your passport, your flight details, your valid IDs, your itinerary, and letters from us! Don’t forget our Friday video calls!”

“I can’t see. These tears are bullies,” Naruto said through tears. He was continuously wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“And If I don’t get on my flight because you made us eat ramen for one last time and the orders took too long, I’m gonna have you cursed by a witch and a shaman!” Sasuke growled. The guards were starting to close the gates when a sobbing Naruto sprinted and basically tackled the guards on the floor.

“Sasuke come on, hurry up!”

“Drink your vitamins! And if you miss cream puffs, I’ll teach you how to make them.” Sakura was trying hard to keep pace with Sasuke’s brisk walking, but she ended up breathless anyway.

The three of them finally reached the immigration entrance, and Naruto was profusely apologizing to the guards for the interruption. Sasuke showed his documents, wheezing as they looked at it. They gave him a thumbs up and opened the gates.

The two were already slumped at the floor, waving without words, and exhausted from the clock race. Sasuke was almost through when he remembered something he forgot. He muttered a quick sorry, ran through the opening, and hugged his two friends.

“I’ll miss you.”

[millennialfangirl]

My Daniel Sousa meta: from AC to AoS with a heavy dose of Dousy

(that absolutely nobody asked for)

I have just been really in my feels over Daniel Sousa lately, so I thought I’d write them down. I am absolutely in love with his character evolution, in particular, what Agents of Shield was able to do with him. I feel like we started off with his character in Agent Carter with a young buck of sorts, trying to prove his worth. There was a bit of inexperience there, a bit of naivete. 

And he had all of these feelings for Peggy Carter that he didn’t know what to do with, but he tried to act on nonetheless. And when it didn’t work out, he ran away, not by going to California, but by jumping into a relationship with someone else before he had properly dealt with his love for Peggy. Outside of his love-life, when you look at him as an agent, he was clearly good at what he did, but he was still learning. Case in point, Samberly took issue with him as a leader because he didn’t take the time to get to know him. Sousa was a good agent, but he was still learning how to be a leader. 

He was also a hero. He was also willing to run into walls, focus on the greater good, even at his own expense!!!! 

I believe he wasn’t just talking about Peggy in that scene in the time loop. I think we was talking from experience. I mean, he risked his life to turn off that portal to the zero matter stuff. He made the sacrifice play. (but more on him focusing on the greater good later).

Jump forward 6/7 years, and our first introduction to Sousa is of a confident man in charge, a man who has earned his stripes, and knows how to be a commanding leader. He’s no-nonsense the moment he realizes the base has been infiltrated, and he remains that way for the first several episodes of the season he is in. 

I feel like his personality in the first few episodes was just Sousa’s leader persona, the man married to his job, focused on the mission, the greater good. He held tight to that persona as long as he could, trying to maintain control of something, anything. He’s still holding tight to it when he lashes out at Jemma and Deke. But when Deke tells him they were all pulled out of their lives, he starts to realize that he’s not the only one who’s not in control. But it’s when he and Daisy are captured that he realizes that this team is giving their all to this mission, even if they are doing the best they can in the midst of chaos. I think he can, not only see their strengths now, but their weaknesses, their humanity. This allows himself to let down his walls, be more of himself. He doesn’t feel the need to be the man in charge who knows everything. He recognizes he’s not the only one fighting for the greater good, even at his own expense.

And we can’t forget about the incredible detective/agent that Sousa is, and proved himself to be over the years. He’s the one who discovered Peggy was helping Stark. His instincts were always right, and he used that big brain of his to get to the truth, JUST LIKE HE DID WITH HYDRA. (and just like he did with the chronicom bomb) 

Y’all, I could cry over the fact that Daniel J. Sousa discovered Hydra DECADES before anybody else, and it led to his death. Not Peggy, not Howard, not anyone else over the years until the events of Winter Soldier, did someone realize that Hydra was still a threat. I can’t imagine the amount of detective work he put in over the years trying to get to the truth about Hydra. How long had he known? How long had he been suspicious of colleagues and missions? A part of me thinks he had been following his hunches since Thompson was shot. I think he followed the clues left by that pin they wore that was actually a Hydra symbol. I feel like Sousa may have lost himself in the job, dedicated himself to ending Hydra, and sacrificed his own personal and love life in the process, for the greater good. As I mentioned earlier, I think Sousa was speaking about himself as well as Peggy when he was talking about Daisy and knowing people like her. He sees his own dedication to the cause in her, and he admires it. And most importantly, he knows how lonely it can be.

(Was he starting to realize he was ready for a relationship? That he was lonely? Is that why he checked his hair before going to meet up with “Peggy” at the beginning of 7x03? Just in case they could pick things up again? I don’t know, but there was something sad about that scene, something lonely.)

But can we talk about Daniel Sousa knowing exactly how to lay on the charm? We should have known from the beginning of his time on AoS. If you look back at the episode where he’s on the train waiting with Coulson, you’ll see the way he confidently flirts with the blonde spy who is trying to get the jump on him. He’s not fooled, not at all. And he plays his part perfectly, acts suave, shamelessly flirts with her, leans in real close to her personal space. These are not the actions of a square incapable of having fun or breaking the rules. These are not the actions of someone who lacks confidence. 

And let’s not forget the fake relationship trope and how AMAZINGLY Sousa played that role. That took some bravado and confidence. He f*cking swaggered up to her like...wut? But the way he looked that man-child Gideon up and down as he walked away...I died y’all.

But the great thing about Sousa, is that being macho and a flirtatious ladies’ man isn’t his true nature. These are not character attributes that he values, but rather, has learned to use over the years when necessary.  I feel like Sousa has had the time and experience from the war, in the SSR, with Peggy, with Violet, and then Shield, to build up his character and his own belief in his abilities, not just as an agent, but as a man who is more than his “aluminium crutch.” He is a hero in his own right, and most importantly, A GOOD MAN. He’s learned to work within the patriarchal society without devaluing women, or himself. 

At his core, Daniel Sousa IS absolutely a SQUARE and a DORK, but not because he has to be, but because he CHOOSES to be. And that is extremely gratifying and sexy. Because that means the minute he learned Daisy reciprocated his feelings, he was able to use that charm and flirt. And he was ready and willing to follow Daisy anywhere, even if it meant breaking the rules. But he’s still holding on to his core values that make him a good man and all those square aspects he holds onto.

In closing, Daniel Sousa is capable of being everything Daisy needs, whether it’s soft and caring, flirtatious, daring, adventurous, or a dork who is ready to pick her up when she falls. 

And I just think that’s really neat. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

[imherongraystairstrash]

Can you write 42: “here take my sweater” for Jordelia?

It’s really long, my dudes. 

I changed the prompt a little, so that it sort of fit the time period better, so now it’s “Here, take my coat.” Anyway, I hope there aren’t too many mistakes and that you all enjoy it!

Ship: Jordelia (James x Cordelia)

Prompt: “Here, take my coat”

James and Cordelia were walking back from a winter ball in the Penhallow’s home. It had been incredibly dull, and the only thing that kept Cordelia from falling asleep had been Matthew and Lucie’s hilarious reenactment of Rosamund Wentworth and Thoby Baybrook’s wedding (where Lucie played Thoby and Matthew, Rosamund, respectively). 

Now, Cordelia couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through her body as the cold, winter breeze pushed against them. Her thin dressing fabrics did nothing to warm her against the cold. She prayed to any of the angels that might have been listening for James not to notice, for she would simply die of embarrassment. Unfortunately, it seemed they all had their heads turned elsewhere.

“Angel,”James cursed. “I’m such a nitwit. You’re absolutely freezing in that measly shawl, Daisy. Here, take my coat.” he said, shrugging it off and placing it on her shoulders.

“Oh no, it’s quite alright, James. You needn’t spare it for me.”

“Nonsense, I’ve had it on all night. I insist you wear it.”

“Thank you,” Cordelia said, shrugging it on. It was large on her, the sleeves covering her hands but…it smelled like James. 

Cordelia fought the urge to close her eyes and breathe it in, for James would  

certainly find it strange, if not a bit unsettling. 

“Really, thank you.” she said, thankful she wouldn’t have to worry about getting sick.

“It was nothing, Daisy.” He said, offering her his bent arm, which she took. “You shouldn’t be suffering in the cold. I cannot understand why they do not make warm women’s clothes.”

Cordelia shrugged. “I imagine it is just the way it has always been.”

James pressed his lips together. “Well, it should change.”

Cordelia nodded. “At least, in the meantime, there are kind gentlemen who might offer theirs.”

James scoffed. “It really was nothing, Daisy.”

Cordelia just looked down, deliberately not replying. That was when her eyes caught on the bracelet James bore on his wrist. 

“That’s Grace Blackthorn’s bracelet, is it not?”

Cordelia didn’t mean to make such a bitter comment. She hadn’t wanted to make James feel uncomfortable. And it wasn’t as though they were truly married. It shouldn’t matter to her that he wore it, if he wasn’t hers to claim in the first place.

Except, it did matter. It mattered to her.

James looked down and his eyes widened. “I—What a fool I am; I must have forgotten to take it off. All these years I’ve worn it, I have become quite accustomed to how it feels on my wrist. A million apologizes, Cordelia.”

“You really mustn’t apologize, James. It’s hardly necessary if we aren’t in a relationship to begin with.”

“Still, Daisy.” James replied, unclasping the bracelet and stuffing it in the pocket of his trousers. “I cannot be wearing another woman's bracelet, while I’m married to you. Regardless of the reasons behind our marriage, you are my wife. You deserve better than that.”

“James, don’t stress about it.”

James opened his mouth, but Cordelia cut him off. “I don’t want to hear anymore about this business. Let’s talk about something el—”

James suddenly surged forward, causing Cordelia to exclaim a surprised “James!”.

“Are you alright?” She said, worry still heavy on her tongue as she helped him stay on his feet. 

James shook his head, as though to clear his thoughts. “Yes, I just—I had a dizzy spell.”

“Goodness, would you like us to sit? I don’t find it wise to be standing, much less walking, if you are unwell. Perhaps we wait until you have recovered?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Daisy. Let us continue walking home. I wouldn’t want to keep you in the cold for longer than needed.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Cordelia said, her heart practically swelling up to half of it’s normal size. “You’re unwell and besides, I have a wonderful coat to keep me warm.” She stuffed her hands in the pockets of his coat and hugged herself for emphasize. 

James gave her a rueful smile. “You are absolutely positive?”

Cordelia felt her lips tug upwards, “Come now,” She walked him over to the nearest bench and sat him down. James did so, obediently, and looked up at her with those beautiful eyes of gold, like a puppy.  

“There you are.” She said, perhaps a bit breathlessly.

James continued to look up at her, his expression open and…liberated, almost. He was different in that moment. He resembled Lucie, during those times when she’d look across the room and stare at nothing, and subconsciously smile. She felt the urge to hold his face in her hands and kiss his forehead, asking him what is the matter. Or, better yet, what was the matter. 

He looked at her and she sat down at him. Cordelia lost herself in his eyes long enough to forget where they were, until a swan flapped its wings in the lake nearby. Both of them jumped, startled by the sudden noise. James seemed to recover quicker and cleared his throat. 

“Sit, Daisy.” He said, patting the seat next to him.

“Yes, yes, of course.” She said, taking a seat next to her husband. 

They awkwardly looked anywhere. Anywhere but at each other. Cordelia was concentrating so hard on looking like she wasn’t paying attention to James, that she didn’t realize he was looking at her until she shifted her gaze to a tree, and saw him through her peripheral vision. 

“Daisy,” he said, before leaning in slowly, giving her time to back away, if she wanted to. Except, she didn’t. All she truly wanted to do was lean in and kiss him. So she did. 

His lips felt incredibly soft against hers. Warm, too, against the bitter cold of the air. He slanted his lips to fit hers and she reached up to his hair, that was cold from the snow that had fallen on it. His gloved hands were also a bit cold, but their presence made her skin flush. Or perhaps it was his tongue on hers.

It mattered not what it was. The fact that James was kissing her, pulling her closer to his chest, and that there was so much love in those actions made everything else insignificant. 

He pulled away, their faces so close together that Cordelia could make out a lone freckle on the bridge of his nose. On his eyelashes were little bits of snow that got stuck. She went to brush them off and he closed his eyes in a graceful motion that made her think of angels. She brushed off the snow, wishing she didn’t have mittens on her fingers, if only to touch his soft face. Her hand lingered on his cheek and he slowly opened his eyes again, his hands drifting up from when they rested on her waist, one coming to rest on her upper back, the other on her chin.

Their mouths found each other once more, however this time, the kiss was slow. Their lips worked together silently and in perfect synchronization, as if they were modeled after each other. Cordelia couldn’t help but thank that they were married, and that if, in the unlikely chance one should happen to stumble into them, it would not be a scandal. Then, of course, she remembered the scandal she had caused before and couldn’t help but smile. She pulled away slightly, and they were once more looking at one another. 

“Daisy.” James said, his voice hoarse.

“Yes?”

He sighed. “You are an angel from Heaven. How they must have weeped when they had to let you go. To have to spare you so that you could venture Earth and save us.”

“How did I save you all?” Cordelia said, jokingly. 

“You’re a beacon of light. You’re the lighthouse that chases away my shadows.”

“No, James. I embrace your shadows.”

James scrunched his eyebrows.

“Your shadows are a part of you, and I adore everything about you.” Cordelia was quite sure she was being possessed by a demon, for she could not believe the words coming out of her mouth. She would have been mortified, had James not spoken.

“I adore everything about you, Daisy.”

Cordelia’s heart skipped a beat. She could feel her face get all cold, though not from London’s bitter winter air. James stood and pulled her up with him. He hugged her close to his body and reached out to caress her face with the back of his hand. She felt her eyes shutter to a close as he began to brush loose strands of her hair away from her face. And even though she could see nothing beyond darkness, she could feel James’ touch in every part of her body. 

She felt James’ hand slip down to lightly hold her chin and tilt her face upwards. Their lips met once more, perfectly content to having been reunited. Oh, how wonderfully James kissed! His lips were like the flapping wings of a butterfly in your cupped hand; soft and light, but frantic. It was almost like he was coming back to life, and wanted to experience everything it had to offer.

Cordelia shifted in his arms, falling deeper into his embrace. James broke apart and he moved to kiss the corner of her lip, her cheek, her jawline, behind her ear. She could have stayed there for days, would have let him kiss her days and would have kissed him for days. Could have felt his hands running up and down her body until the planets collided and the world ended. All of the time in the world, she would have dedicated it to him and being together and being in love. 

Cordelia felt herself go stiff in James’ arms. He nestled his face in her neck, and despite how much her body screamed to not do it, she pulled away and stepped back from James. 

They locked eyes, gold on black. She began to shake her head. He didn’t love her and she was a fool to think he did. A fool to let herself believe that this was anything more than physical attraction on James’ part.

“Daisy, what’s the matter?” He eyes were filled with concern and it hurt even more to know that they weren’t concerned for his wife, but for a friend. He took a step, and she did the same, except while he took a step forward, towards her, she took a step back, away from him.

James’ eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Daisy?”

She looked away, knowing tears would fall if she continued to look at those eyes. 

James would never love her.

She turned her back to him, turned her back to her pain, and began walking away. Away from the boy she loved.

How was any of this fair? How is it that all she’d ever done in life was love him, and yet would never receive that same love from him? 

“Daisy!”

Maybe she wasn’t kind enough. Maybe she wasn’t pretty enough.

“Daisy, what’s the matter?” James called out to her.

Nevertheless, didn’t she deserve to be loved? Was she so unloveable? So undesirable?

“Daisy, slow down!”

 What had she done wrong?

James caught up to her, and stood in front of her path. 

“Cordelia,” he whispered, bending down so as to be able to look her in the eyes. “Please tell me what happened.”

“It’s nothing, James.” She said, refusing to look at him. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

She could feel his gaze on her, trying to see why she was acting the way she was. She forced herself to look at him, put on a half smile and begin walking again. To her surprise, James didn’t stop her and simply just fell into step alongside her. He didn’t touch her nor offer his arm. They just walked back home. 

Cordelia’s lungs filled with freezing air, which she could feel travel all over her body, as she took a deep breath. 

Love. It was a paradox unto itself. Because it can by the source of the greatest happiness in your life, or the source of all of your pain.  In Cordelia’s case, it seemed to be doomed to be the latter.

...

Hope you guys were in the mood to read some angst. 

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