#fenwrites

[fenheart87]

Flowerful Language

KuraHi fluff... Subtle flower language to show affection, the idea was based off three things: white rose meaning young love and loyalty and two roses together meaning feelings returned.

Kurama was distracted from his studies by gentle fingers combing through his hair. Being touched by the owner of said hand wasn’t something new, just the context and type of touch. The redhead had not recently injured himself on his cranium nor anywhere else. Despite his brain being puzzled, his body remained curiously relaxed as he sat leaning against his bed and that was all the more puzzling. When had the smaller demon moved to his bed?

“Hiei?”

“Hn?”

“Is there something in my hair?” Kurama joked, not yet pulling away to look at the fire demon and break the soothing and gentle touch.

“You always have something in your hair fox.” The almost soft amused quality coloring the words had the taller moving away to glance at the speaker. Red irises were partially concealed by heavy lids, an arm tucked underneath his head as support. Hiei was completely at ease laying in his bed and Kurama suddenly couldn’t remember how to breathe.

“I supposed yes… Was there something you needed?”

“Hn, still wasting all those years of knowledge I see.” With huff and slight curl to his lips that the kitsune was certainly not distracted by, the shorter demon rose stood. Lifting his arms in a stretch before donning his cloak, boots and sword. “I do have an appointment to keep Fox, hopefully the storm will keep at bay while I’m gone.”

“If not, you know my window is always open for you.” He had abandoned his reading and carelessly shut the book without saving the page, the move seemed to bring amusement to other occupant once more.

“If only there were something more convenient that was open to me.” Opening the window Hiei hopped onto the sill, pausing for a moment and casting a long searching look into curious green eyes. “Perhaps one day when the kudzu is finally worn out its welcome there will be a hidden entrance elsewhere.”

Kurama sat alone in his room, the strange conversation and actions turning within his mind and the answer just out of reach. Collecting himself and shifting everything to the side for a moment, the human side of his brain was pushed to the back. If Hiei’s comments about his age and the kudzu vines were any indication he needed to think like a demon, like Youko. Hiei has referenced his life as the King of Thieves, knowledge gained during his reign would be mostly stealing something. Convenience could be a number of things, again leading to stealing something or maybe something else. The fire demon's mention of kudzu was interesting. If Kurama recalled correctly it was an invasive group of vines that strangled the plant flora and trees around it. The breeze distracted his attempt at puzzling out his partner's confusing actions, rising from the floor he crossed to the open window to close it. Luckily he noticed the small pouch before crushing it.

"Bad habit of leaving gifts without warning, some things never change." Kurama moved the pouch and closed the window completely, moving to his desk to inspect the contents. Inside there was a note and two seeds, their aura marking them as different species. Curiosity completely peaked and all other thoughts brushed aside as the redhead determined they were from Ningenkai and thus safe to pour a bit of his energy into to unfold the mystery of what the blooms would look like. The first grew until a bloom unfurled, black in color and with several smaller blooms in the middle. Thin tendrils sprouted from the middle as well fading from the black color to a white near the ends. Tacca chantrieri or the more common name, the black bat plant.

As intrigued as he was, Kurama set the plant aside in a spare pot and turned to the other seed. With one more burst of energy but more gentle the seed grew into a familiar shape. Glancing between the newly grown rose sporting stripes of cream and purple and the black plant, something was nagging at the back of his mind. Hiei was rather straightforward and blunt with most things, the only exception being… His feelings, oh. The rose was indeed beautiful but the knowledge behind the message made it breathtaking.

"I wonder if there's room in the garden out back."

---

Kurama knew it would take a time before his rather thoughtful partner would appear again and so he waited patiently, keeping a close eye on his newest additions and their welfare. Sooner than expected the ever elusive fire demon returned, occupying his window once more.

"I trust you didn't have to suffer the rain and that's why I haven't seen you in so long?"

"Hn." Not talkative but not opposed to idle chatter and maybe he could squeeze a couple of answers from the surly visitor.

"Well if you need a reprieve and some rest, I won't need my bed for the day." The redhead kept a playful tone, same as always while watching those crimson eyes scan his room to look for changes. They alighted upon the recent pot that had its home on the corner of his desk that housed a certain small but healthy black plant. Meeting the shorter demon's gaze head on, Kurama noticed it was guarded and calculating. A point in his favor to cement his theory. "The tacca chantrieri, I must say, is not the most common gift one would give. I've been wondering why you, of all people, would give me a black bat plant."

"I'm not wasting my breath. Is your mother due home soon?" Small deflection but the thoughts behind his eyes were still not very clear.

"No, she's out for a while yet. Feel free to use the bath and I can make you something to eat or heal as needed. Nothing has changed Hiei."

"At least I haven't outworn my welcome." Kurama felt it had been the wrong thing to say before the fire demon disappeared from his room. He needed to know if the gesture had the deeper meaning the older demon longed for but was unsure how to coax the truth from Hiei. Letting all the thoughts roam free from the last couple weeks, the plant wielder plucked a seed and bloomed his new favorite flower.

"If only you would be blunt this time…" A memory of his mother receiving a bouquet of roses from his step father came forth, there was a misunderstanding. Shiori was always overjoyed to receive flowers but one bouquet had made her concerned. It was a beautiful array of red, white and pink mixed but the number is what Kurama remembered concerning her. There had been fifteen instead of twelve for a solid dozen and what she had said back then had stayed with him until that moment when he finally understood.

"All colors have different meanings but when it comes to roses the number can be more important. Fifteen means 'I'm sorry’ so I thought you were apologizing for something."

After that he had spent his time with various books and recalling old information from his time before his human life to understand something his mother loved. With barely a thought, he reached a hand and grabbed a lesser used seed from his hair and helped it bloom with a burst of energy. The white bloom was pure in color and when laid across the other rose made a striking pair.

"Kurama, I found some-" The redhead turned his body slightly while still being seated in his chair. Hiei was staring intently at the pair of roses on his desk before his fire gaze met his calm and collected gaze. "Feeling sentimental fox?"

"I wouldn't say that, more like soulful."

With a snort the slightly shorter demon crossed the room and distracted Kurama from wondering when his friend had a growth spurt by pressing their lips together. Humming in contentment, he let Hiei break the surprisingly soft kiss with a grin.

"White really?"

"With all my soul." Another snort but this time there was no kiss, just a fond tug on his forelock and a small amused quirk of lips that made Kurama promise himself that wouldn’t be the only kiss between them.

[anathemafen]

Wrong

AO3 

He has been looking up at a tree. One of the trees.

One of the graves, he has to correct himself.

It is a beautiful grave, resplendent with, ironically, life. Moss strewn branches and green leaves fluttering lazily in the soft wind, a beautiful specimen, a beautiful shrine, a silent yet deafening reminder, a rightful accusation.

Solas clenches and unclenches his hand, and with a small shake of his head he tries to focus on the dapples of sunlight warming the trunk instead. Shoots of Elfroot have sprouted up around it and idly he thinks to harvest some for Lavellan, for potions, for…

A grave.

Were they red, the roots? If he pulled the earth away would he find it still saturated in blood? Would he find the bones of long-dead warriors, skulls stretched to silently scream up at him?

You did this.

A small puff of air leaves his lips as he drags his eyes from the greenery, chest tight and self-contempt raging.

The Dales. The Exalted Plains. The Emerald fucking Graves.

It had been a swift punch to the gut entering the land again, war-torn and wrong. All wrong.

Solas has to lean on his staff as the forest seems to press in on him, the cold, crooked fingers of despair slowly scraping down his spine. His lungs inhale but he feels starved for air, his legs remain straight but he feels unsteady, there is no danger but his heart is relentless as it batters against his chest.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

But he cannot, the air is stagnant in this world, in this time it feels dense and jagged. Everything he ever knew he ever saw he ever heard, it’s all gone. Gone. Because of him, his actions, his decisions, his-

A touch.

A small wisp against his skin, and he feels fingertips shyly caress his forearm, a small question as they move towards his wrist. Slowly he opens his eyes and when he doesn’t move away, a small hand melds into his own.

Lavellan traces the lines of his palm and smooths her caress over his callouses, a soft touch that grounds him.

And he knows he should pull away, he knows he should want to pull away, but he doesn’t.

He swallows thickly, thinking of the blood staining his hands being transferred to hers, viscous and black in its immensity and he does go to pull away then but she follows. Her other hand flutters to his waist and the feel of the anchor - of his magic - familiar and comforting.

Just as she is familiar and comforting.

And he wonders not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, how this little creature was able to enthrall him so thoroughly, his very being singing against her touch.

His heart slowly steadies as her head comes to lie against his chest, panic reeling backwards as her arms encircle his waist, and finally air is able to settle within his lungs as she peeks up at him, concern ripe within her eyes.

Brushing a strand of hair from her face he cups her cheek and looks down at her with a fondness he hasn’t felt in millennia – an adoration he hasn’t felt in, perhaps, ever.

“You disappeared,” she tells him and Solas nods. He watches her watching him, and he is far too old for the flutter it brings to his chest. “Is it the history here? I know I-”

He cuts her off with a kiss because she doesn’t know, and how could he tell her he is responsible for the blood that fertilized this earth? That each grave marks not only an Elvhen fallen, but a choice he made? That everything she knows, thinks, was shaped by is wrong? That everywhere she travels, maps, explores is wrong? That this world – her world – and everyone in it is just so desperately wrong…

He drops his staff to pull her close humming when her soft lips curve into a smile and small vibrations accompany the happy little mewls she makes.

And all so suddenly Solas, along with his anxiety, is nullified because he cannot possibly comprehend how Lavellan could be wrong.

[fenesvir]

She is hopelessly lost.

One could say that at least she isn’t lost alone, and Inanen would knock their teeth in because being lost in the company of a loudmouth dwarf, a pretentious Seeker, and an absolutely infuriating knife ear is not at all preferable to the solace of solitude. They’d set out for the Hinterlands a week after Inquisition forces and now they’re a day behind arrival. It sets her teeth on edge.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve passed this cabin before,” Varric quips with a level of amusement that, frankly, will be the death of him. “And by that I mean, ‘I marked this tree just in case we happened to pass it again and what do you know!’”

“Dusk is approaching,” Solas murmurs, wholly ignoring their companion, and Inanen promptly turns on her heel to look him in the eyes. He keeps a steady gaze as he requests, “Should we make camp for the night, Herald?”

Herald. Herald of Andraste, the shem cult-goddess, sent to humble them all with her rabbit ears and dalish ways and save them from the hole in the sky. Her eyes must betray her mounting fury because Solas turns to Cassandra and repeats the question rather than forcing Inanen to respond.

“We will check with the inhabitants of the cabin,” Cassandra dictates, “They will give us permission to camp and could direct us out of this grove.”

Then her eyes flick expectantly to Inanen, because of course the dalish freak with the glowing hand must be the one to- to debase herself.

She growls, a sound that comes from deep in her throat, then shoulders past them towards the cabin in question. She can admit that it is getting dark. They’d been set upon by bandits once already, an affair over so quickly it seemed laughable. It’s best to make camp than to invite more trouble on the road, no matter the battle prowess involved. But to spend even one more night in the company of this ragtag bunch of misfits is almost intolerable.

Of course she approaches the cabin. There are no lights in the windows, and that gives her pause for all of half a second before she pounds her fist on the door. It gives and creaks open on the first rap, but she doesn’t have time to wonder at it before she’s flung backwards. She lands on both feet, snarling and whirling her staff off her back, bladed tip pointing at Cassandra’s back even as Solas and Varric step into formation with her.

“What,” she growls, “Do you think you’re doing?”

She can hear the scowl in Cassandra’s voice, but the Seeker doesn’t deign to turn around as she says, “This isn’t right. Something about this place feels...” She makes a disgusted noise and shakes her head, “We should move on.”

Inanen visibly bristles and does not sheath her staff. “If it is empty, we should sleep in it,” she says, and is furious that she must explain such a thing. “It is shelter and we are done for the day.”

Staff still in hand, she shoulders past the Seeker.

The cabin is not as empty as first glance would suggest. There is a roaring fire in the hearth that she almost can’t believe she didn’t notice straightaway. There’s food on the table- a full spread: chicken, field greens, fresh bread. There are several cots laid out as if the cabin owner is expecting guests or refugees. It’s almost too good to be true.

She slings her staff around her back again and sits down for the meal.

Varric slips onto the bench beside her, chuckles, “Your paranoia is showing, Seeker,” digs into the chicken and murmurs a quiet, “Good work, Twigs,” to Inanen.

Twigs. It should burn through her, the way rabbit would, but she’s too busy eating to feel annoyed. Instead she mutters ,”Well,” back and digs into the spread.

“This is wrong,” Cassandra insists, even as she seats herself at the table. “Where are the inhabitants? Why did they prepare so much food?”

Solas slips in beside her and sighs, “Must all compassion come from reason, Seeker? The dinner is. Let it be.”

Inanen does not comment, content for the first time since this entire debacle began so many weeks ago. Once her belly is satiated, she stretches her arms above her head with a huge yawn. The overwhelming desire to sleep rises over her- starts at her toes, which feel too heavy to walk to a cot; climbs up to her belly, full of good food; creeps into her lungs, which even into deep, relaxing breaths; and finally clouds her mind, causing her eyes to droop... slowly... closed...

“I’m telling you,” Cassandra is slurring, mouth half full of bread even as her chin begins to nod towards her breastplate, “Something about this cabin... is not right.”

Varric gives a groan, leans his head fully on the table and says, “Ah, leave it for the morning Seeker.”

[fenheart87]

The Dress

For @bloody-no-kissu, you're art is always amazing and inspirational! I love you bloody!

It was a rare day that Marinette was fully rested, had no events to attend and the bakery wasn't busy enough for her parents to ask for her help. Feeling inspired but not able to pick up a recent project without being hypercritical of her work, the young designer decided picking up something different might help. Grabbing a blue folder with various doodles and stickers, she spread the sketches one by one on her desk.

"Oh, these look great!" Tikki chimed, flying closer to examine the handwritten notes.

"I know but I can't choose! I want to do them all, eventually but where do I start?" Marinette huffed, eyeing the designs with a playful pout.

"Hm, why not choose randomly? You could number the designs and put matching numbers on slips of paper to pick the one to start with!"

"Tikki, that's a great idea!" Marinette cupped the floating ladybug gently in her hands and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before scribbling on a scratch paper. Tearing the numbers apart, she put them in a hat and let Tikki do the honors.

"Here we go!" Tikki dropped in the hat and shook the pieces around before flying back out with one piece between her paws. Twirling in excitement, she opened the paper and held it up like a sign. "Lucky number four!"

"Okay so four is," the designer stacked the extra papers and pulled out the fourth design page, "this one. Huh, I don't have one color scheme for this, I made two. Oh wait, this started out as a design for Rose but I made something else for her. I can finish this dress for me though, time to go fabric shopping!"

"Oh can you get some crushed velvet? It makes a wonderful bed." Tikki asked, hovering by the trapdoor as her holder ran around the room to gather her things.

"Sure! Any color requests?" Marinette paused to let the kwami zip into her purse, handing Tikki the list.

"Blue or green, maybe aquamarine!" They shared a giggle before the designer made her way downstairs to let her parents know about her trip into town.

"Maman, Papa, I'm going to the fabric shop. I've got so much creativity I feel like I'm going to explode!"

"Well we don't want that, then we couldn't possibly have family bear hugs!" Tom shouted, scooping up his wife and daughter who giggled and snuggled in for the hug. "Please be safe and call if you need help or eat somewhere else for lunch."

"Of course Papa!" Marinette withdrew from the hug and grabbed her personalized tote bag that she used for trips like these. With one last wave goodbye, she set off to her favorite shop. A ten minute bus ride and quick shortcut through the plaza, she arrived in front of The Special Thread. The bell rang merrily as the younger design held the door open for an elderly lady before beelining towards the crushed velvets. It was the backrest left corner and after a glance around, Marinette popped open her purse to let Tikki out to be able to help pick out the right color.

"Okay here are all the cool colors of the crushed velvet and then here’s the penne velvet too. What did I need and who did I need it for? Oh wait, the list!” Marinette knew the shop owner and many of the regular customers were used to the young designer talking to herself as they tended to indulge in the habit as well. Actually checking the list after fighting the urge to ruffle through the soft velvets, “I need a burgundy color to accent Marc’s and a peachy tone for Nathaniel, more princess tulle for Rose and some black lace for Juleka… Oh that’s perfect!”

“Marinette, I like both of these colors but can't choose…” Tikki chimed, respectfully waiting until Marinette’s attention was back from her creative mindset.

“It’s on sale, why not get both and I can make a matching pillow or something? I have a coupon too and those colors are gorgeous, the blue reminds me of Luka.” She may have not noticed the dopey grin on her face as she grabbed the selected velvets and moved to another fabric wall  but Tikki could see it clearly and cheered internally. “Let’s get a couple yards of each and then I saw the perfect shades for Marc and Nathaniel but Ms. Cribler might have more in the back so I can get a little extra, just to be on the safe side.”

“Hello, Marinette, you looked especially inspired.” The shop owner smiled as she spotted Marinette, sorting through some bolts of fabrics to be put away from previous customers. Today she was sporting her favorite cardigan, the plum on bottom faded into lilac near the collar and the different embroidered designs and patches were still like new and matched her skirt that had vines and flowers blooming all over in a field of wildflowers. The addition of several animals made Marinette smile, it was the elder woman’s way of supporting the superheroes that protect their fair city.

“Hello Ms. Cribler, I am feeling very inspired and had to even get creative in choosing what to make next! How has the shop been today, need me to return anything? I’m passing through the solids and plundering the lace next.” The young designer placed her chosen bolts of fabric on the counter, eyeing the rather large pile that was being sorted.

“Oh things have been busy, it seems the creativity is floating in the air! I can hold these until you’re ready of course, if you can run this pile,” Ms. Cribler patted a pile with about ten bolts of various creams and browns, “they need to be put away. I have gotten everything I need from those. Is there anything in particular I can check the back for?”

“Ah yes, I need some more of this burgundy shade and if you have more peach colors, something more pale orange and less pink peach color that would be perfect. I’ll take these with me and see what I can find in the lace bolts.” Marinette picked up the pile with ease and marched carefully to the proper section and began putting them away. Tikki joined her, zipping back and forth to help quickly find the right spots she needed. Once those were completely put away, the duo weaved through the aisles and found the lace bolts. With a soft hum, the young designer pulled several options down. Marinette set them down on the return cart that was nearby, carefully unrolling them just enough to see a clear picture of the lace.

“What part of the dress is going to be lace?” The kwami inquired, floating at the top of the pink bag.

“Mid back up to my shoulders, just along the back side.”

“Oh, then this one would be so pretty!” Tikki flew up and showed off her choice, wrapping it around her tiny body like a toga.

“Super stylish Tikki!” Marinette giggled and returned the other options back to their proper places. Picking up the one she wanted to purchase and making sure Tikki was in her bag once more, she weaved her way back to the solids for another look and didn’t have anything that spoke to her. Continuing on, Marinette returned to the front cutting table where Ms. Cribel was helping out a familiar face but not a familiar face to see in the shop. Tikki giggled and ducked completely out of sight, closing the clasp of the purse.

“Found the lace alright Marinette?”

“Yes ma’am, take you time Luka, I still have to check out these other colors.” The girl smiled brighter as the other customer turned around, his typical and slightly goofy Luka smile in place.

“Hey Marinette, look like you have quite the haul.” Luka teased, shifting to talk to her.

“Yeah, I just had this moment of inspiration but now that I think about it the dress I’m making would be ideal first date material… I could tweak it for Rose and embellish it a bit for an anniversary vibe…”

“Is the dress for you?”

“Yeah it was originally, I just don’t think I’m going to have a date to wear it for soon.” Marinette scrunched her nose slightly, it felt weird to talk about dating in front of Ms. Cribel. Finding a salmon color that would be fantastic, she moved the bolt to her purchase pile and scooted it closer to the register where Luka had a thoughtful frown on his face.

“Well why don’t you change that? Isn’t the dance coming up?”

“Yeah, in a couple months.” The designer giggled as a light pink dusted his cheeks, sometimes she wished she liked Luka first. That thought struck her like lightning and decided right then and there she was going to be true to herself and no longer be pressured by the Girl Squad for her change of heart. “Hey Luka, are you, uh well, are you busy later? The weather is really nice and Maman made the best dumplings and the park doesn’t have a big photoshoot or news report or meeting going on today…”

“Yea- no, I mean no but I mean yes.” Luka clenched his jaw while taking a deep breath to calm down, eyes wide with hope before continuing, “I have no plans unless you wanna have plans later?”

“Yeah, it’s a date… I just have to finish my dress first and I can text you?”

“Yeah, anytime. Ever. Yes.” The musician clench his jaw again, making Marinette laugh in sheer joy. He was just as nervous as her but they would work it out on their date.

“Okay, well I think you’re good to go and I still need my materials cut. Uh did you- nevermind.”

“Can I walk you home? I can carry some of your stuff, these are good for other things than playing guitar.” Luka playfully flexed his arm, seeming to forget he had his jacket on and she couldn't see his muscles.

“Oh you will and you had better let him or you’re banned from my shop.”

“What? Ms. Cribel-”

“Marinette, you have a boyfriend now. Call me Ana as a thank you for giving you a discount to celebrate. Now, how many of what do you need today dear? You need to hurry and get home!” The shop owner punctuated her words with a few snips of her scissors, reaching for the lace first.

“Ah, the lace I need four yards, six of the salmon and burgundy and since the velvet is half off..” Marinette dropped into thought and with a glance at the boy beside her made a decision, “let’s do ten of each. And my special order too, if you have it in.”

“I sure do! Let me finish this right up and I’ll grab it for you.” Ana swiftly unfolded the bolts and made precise, clean and quick cuts, working through the small stack in under a minute. The musician seemed a bit shocked but Marinette knew she could move faster and still have the same pinpoint accuracy. Folding all the cut lengths and wrapping the bolts once more to set them aside, the shop keeper tucked the purchases into a bag and threw in some extra thread. Leaning down to reach under the counter, she put another bag that had a receipt attached onto the counter as well.

“Did you have everything?” The young designer asked, rolling and tucking that big into the bigger one.

“Of course! You are my favorite customer, anytime you call I make sure I have everything or get it delivered before you show up. It brings me joy that you create so many beautiful things when these hands are not quite steady enough anymore, it makes me happy to see you thrive.” The younger was touched and the awe showed in her face, causing the older woman to smile.

“She is pretty amazing.” Luka’s soft voice drew their attention, Marinette blushing while Ana had a knowing smile.

“Total today is one week of fresh croissants and details of today’s date.”

“What? No, i couldn’t possibly take all this for free-”

“Marinette. I am trading you, your parents food and you story for my measly fabrics. I will simply kick you out of my shop if you refuse.”

“Okay but two weeks at least and I can come help you put things away.”

“Deal, now go finish your dress and knock his socks off!” Ana winked playfully, both teens were blushing as they left.

“She isn’t usually like that but thank you for helping me.” Marinette grinned shyly, Luka had taken the bag of fabrics before she could and left no room for protest.

“Seems like she knows you well. And of course Marinette,” the soft way he spoke her name was going to give her heart problems if it kept skipping every time he said it, “anything to spend more time with a beautiful girl.”

The girl in question just blushed and ignored him, not that Luka seemed to mind as he escorted her home in silence. It was a comfortable and breathable bubble they were in and not even when he had to catch her when she tripped boarding the bus that would take them to her house. In a smooth and thoughtful move, Luka managed to hold her hand without her noticing until the end of the bus ride, only smiling in his sweet way at her blush.

“Well thank you for walking me home, now I can finish the last piece and then we can go on our date.”

"Yeah, no problem. Now I know where to pick you up too." He grinned crookedly, her blushing was too cute.

"Yeah now you know… Um, I haven’t done this before and I know you’ve been there for you through a lot and i appreciate it so much but like I don"t want you to think I'm going on this date as like a rebound or something stupid to deal with Adrien when its not.”

“Marinette.” Luka met her eyes dead on, a growing smile on his lips. “You have never and would never lead anyone on like that. I have always respected your feelings, even when you decided to gift them to someone other than me. My feelings for you haven't changed at all, you’re still the song in my head.” This boy was too much for Marinette, she suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and Luka calmly looped around her and gently guided her into movement again with a gentle press of a hand.

“You are something else.”

“A good something else?”

“Depends how nice our date is later!” With that teasing remark, Marinette used the last of her courage to press a kiss on Luka’s cheek before dashing inside and up to her room. Carefully the designer set down her purchases on her desk before jumping up and down and squealing in happiness.

“Great job Marinette!” Tikki giggled and flew in a few loops to show her excitement as well.

“Oh my gosh, Maman! I need your help, if you’re not busy!” Marinette stumbled a bit on her way down but caught herself before she fell. She knew this would be one of her best creations yet.

[fenheart87]

Day 1 - Protective

Marinette felt like she was flying and at the same time like she was sinking. She couldn’t remember what happened… The akuma had… Oh. Slowly she pushed her to awareness, hearing a very concerning sound that sounded like two different hisses. Blue eyes fluttered open to see Chat Noir with his eyes blown wide and hissing in a way that would make Plagg proud. Shifting slightly, she realized he wasn’t paying attention to her, he was in a hissing contest with Viperion who was supporting her.

“Cut it out, there’s an akuma to catch.”

[fenheart87]

Six Sentence Sunday 3.21.21

Of Scales and Feathers, sneak peak. Talking about it here and explaining the background was inspiring.

Marinette knew there was something off, that sense of Dejavu was ringing bells and alarms all throughout her brain but she had circled her room and checked everything at least four times since she entered her room. Nothing of hers was out of place and nothing new had been placed anywhere by her parents. The feeling was becoming a live itch beneath her skin, trying to call Marinette’s attention to something very important, as if there was something life changing going on. Remembering her cousin’s words, the designer closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, letting go of the worry and anxiety to focus more fully on the thrum of change. A few more breaths and Marinette let the unknown tug pull her towards where the feeling was the strongest and opened her eyes. There was her yang box, the phoenix figure a bright mix of pinks and reds just the way she left it. Then the blank space where the yin box containing the dragon for her soulmate finally registered in her consciousness.

It was gone.

“MAMAN!!!” Marinette shrieked, throwing open her hatch with a loud thud and nearly sliding down the stairs in her haste, “it’s gone! I don't know where it’s at because I’ve left it in the same spot since Uncle and Lydia came to visit and I didn’t take it with me to school or anywhere and I’m sorry, it’s gone!”

“Marinette, deep breaths dear.” Sabine was visibly shocked and concerned at the level of fear in her daughter’s hasty explanation. “Now, slowly tell me what’s wrong dear?”

“The Yin box with the dragon is gone!”

“Oh honey that’s wonderful!” The young woman blinked in confusion as her mother pulled her into a comforting hug and called her papa over with cheer, “Tell your father the good news.”

“I uh went up to my room and the dragon box is gone?” She repeated, very confused as her papa pulled her into a bear hug.

“Oh my little girl is growing up! I have to make a cake and we need to invite the family back to celebrate!” Tom suddenly placed Marinette on her feet and ran into the kitchen, the sound of pots and pans clanging through the houses.

“Maman?”

“Yes dear?”

“What’s going on?” Sabine guided her daughter to the table and poured some tea she had been in the middle of making. On autopilot, Marinette sat down and accepted a cup. “The Yin box and the dragon are missing, how is that good?”

“You met your Yin today and the dragon is looking for them. The same thing happened to your father and I, it’s perfectly normal and a good thing.“

[fenheart87]

WIP Wednesday 3.17.21

Hello all! Changing things up a bit this Wednesday! Instead of a random blurb like usual for WIP Wednesday, a group of us had a thought that we would switch it up and based on ask, anon included, you can pick from the WIP list below and I will post a snippet from that work. Some I have posted before, most of this is new stuff but please drop an ask!

All Lukanette related, other works will be a different post.

1. A Siren's Xmas

2. Suqishy Blueberry

3. Unexpected ch2

4. Of Scales and Feathers

5.How Do You Say?

6. Young Bodies, Old Souls

7. Siren Bytes

8. Rhythmic Slam v2

9. The dress

10. Contractual Agreement

11. Chaos

12. Sprint - Angel/Demon AU

13. Tall Cappuccino

14. the captain and the naga(Bday MWoof)

15. Bday Ver - the 10 year gap

16. A Peg A Day (smut) bday knit

17. Bday Lani

18. Opposites Attract

19. PJs

20. Time Travel Angst

21. Violin

22. Bearded Luka

23. Vipernette (Smut)

[anathemafen]

Roots

AO3 

There was a fierce intelligence behind Solas’ eyes, depths of knowledge she wanted to dip into and drink from.

But there was something else too.

At first she had taken it for condescension, a notion only supported by his clear distaste for the Dalish. His hard judgement born out of what she thought his ignorance had been delivered with barely concealed disdain, words whip-like in their sharpness. Lavellan had only just kept from flinching, though she was sure it was written on her face: shock, anger, hurt.

Determination.

His eyes had flickered then, condescension giving way to something else, the blaze of his pride dimming just a moment, but a moment long enough for her to see it.

An unfathomable melancholy. A profound loneliness. A yearning that dampened the sting of his words.

Lavellan stayed her hand from reaching out, clenched it when he blinked and his eyes regarded her with a cold detachment, pride and wisdom resettling like sentinels – and she wondered whether they were there to keep her out or to keep that in.

But if distance had been his wish, Lavellan would not be the one to grant it.

She had always been a curious creature, steadfast when she was presented with an unknown. Some had viewed it as a flaw.

Too distracted, too nosy, too stubborn.

Solas, curiously, did not. He answered each question with genuine consideration, mulling over her inquiry before responding with an earnest answer. And she noticed how he always had a small quirk to his lips when his silvery voice began to paint pictures of the many wonders he had come across.

So, slowly she began battering down the walls he had built up, strong and resolute, but not as strong as her obstinacy and not so resolute that they would hold up against her indomitable focus.

His face began to soften when she came bounding back with new queries, a billion little curiosities that filled her up and kept her going.

But there was one question she wished to ask more than any other.

It was beyond words, beyond the capacity to be formed into a cohesive sentence, beyond even her tenacity to try and shape them and push them past her lips. And so she wondered.

She wondered how deep his loneliness went – had it pervaded so far as to grow roots, melancholic tendrils that twined around just his being? Or was it his soul too? And if she were to prod them, to reach down, to grab ahold of and pull would they come out? If she were to deprive them of water, would they wither and fall away? Would new ones grow in their place, and if so, could she help shape them to hold and not harm?

Lavellan posed the question in the form of a kiss, an impulsive thing that made her question when her wonder had become want.

Solas’ answer was an insistent tug that had her pulled back into his arms, a deepening of the kiss and a glimpse into his eyes. A true glimpse now, unfettered by whatever reservations he’d had before, armour shed and soul bared.

And it hurt.

Lavellan’s heart ached at the depths of sorrow, pools that she wanted to dip into and absorb, empty, refill.

But then Solas looked at her again, and there was something else too. 

Slowly, a root began to give way.

[anathemafen]

Blood

AO3 - In which The Iron Bull realizes he is in love with the Inquisitor. 

He is covered in blood.

Crimson droplets that turn to smears on silver skin with each swing of his axe. Another slice, another layer. Another life, another laugh. Maroon imbrues his face and he savors the taste, his heart singing in response.

Bloodlust some would call it. But he only sees it as a good fucking time.

His gaze traverses the battlefield, ichor and blood and ash settling into the soon to be fertile ground underneath. The Inquisitor is standing amongst it all, a triumphant smile on their face, hand glowing and weapon settled and when their eyes meet his eye, The Iron Bull lets out a bark of a laugh.

Adrenaline still runs rampant within his veins, chest heaving with exertion, breathing in the delicious smell of battle and victory. The Inquisitor closes the short distance around them, sharp eyes already roaming his skin determining whether any of the blood he wears is his own. 

Bull cannot feel pain in times like these, it all gets converted into his manic need to kill.

The last time he came away with a nice-looking gash on his shoulder and didn’t notice until they were back at camp, the Inquisitor had growled at him, a health potion and bandages in hands that weren’t as gentle as they could have been. He smirks at the memory.

“All clear, boss?” his voice rumbles from his chest, breathing steadying but heart still singing.

“All clear, Bull,” the Inquisitor says and winks. He grins in response hefting his axe over his shoulder as they set out, finding his eyes trailing along the Inquisitor’s figure.

It isn’t until they’re back at camp and his heart is still singing that he notices it feels different. Not exactly softer, but not the jagged song, the rapid succession of heartbeats that accompany his battle frenzied state. No, it’s more… secure, more steady, something he can reach out and hold onto.

Bull mulls over it for some time before settling down at the fire. A hand touches his shoulder, caked-on blood beginning to become slightly uncomfortable. When he turns his head, the Inquisitor is looking at him, a wet cloth and waterskin in hand, a devious look in their eyes, lips quirked up in a small mischievous smile.

He doesn’t expect the cloth to touch his skin before he takes it, but a slow grin begins to tug at his lips, and he leans back into their touch.

“Thanks, boss,” he says. Thanks, Kadan, he thinks.

And Bull realizes why his heart is singing differently.

[anathemafen]

Not

AO3

She’s uncertain what to make of it.

Of any of it.

Waking up on hard stones with scraped knees and unfamiliar magic on her skin.

Or, no. 

Not just on her skin. Within her skin.

And now, being handed the weight of the world to bear – a world in which she is unwelcome but expected to save.

Nira almost laughs out loud, almost cackles at the prospect of their wanting her to be their savior. Because not only does she have magic – a feared, vile thing in their eyes – but she has pointed ears.

Pointed ears that mark her as inherently inferior, a menace to be dealt with through periodic pogroms and systematic hate.

Not all humans are bad, da’len, Deshanna had said, two days before the entire Lavellan clan was wiped from existence. Well, almost the entire Lavellan clan.

She was the last – she is the last and she knows now, oh she knows, rounded ears would only ever bring destruction. Violence fueled by an ingrained sense of superiority; raw hatred that would paint a rich history with the blood of her People. Crimson-stained blades as brushes, carving banners and stone to memorialize their marred flesh and emerald graves, evidence to keep their boots on elves’ throats and push down whenever they deigned to push up.

It was wrong. It was all wrong.

So wrong she questioned as they balked. Were demons truly worse? Twisted faces and sharp claws that know nothing but rage, despair, terror. She told them she saw no difference.

So they strung her up and showed her; demons are but humans do. Demons encompass where humans inflict.

But Nira is marked outward and in, Mythal’s vallaslin lining her skin, stories of the Creators lining her soul. 

And she is not their savior, she is not their Herald.

[anathemafen]

heart

She gave him a small smile as he entered the room and crouched before her. 

Leaning up against the off-white wall, a window above her head, legs splayed out in front of her and a hand weakly pushed to her side, she looked at him with surprisingly focused eyes. 

The blood pooling around and beneath her was almost an afterthought as she tried to sit up a little bit straighter for him.

“Kinda pretty, isn’t it?” she asked quietly, tilting her head.

“What is?” he asked in an almost whisper, his hand automatically going to her knee, his other hovering just above her cheek.

“The blood,” she responded looking down, “Death,” she said, looking back up.

He grunted and pushed a loose strand of hair out of her face.

“Do you want to go outside?” he asked, his voice catching slightly.

She grinned baring crimson teeth, cheeks paling with every laboured breath she took. But she nodded and he scooped her against his chest, one arm under her legs, the other supporting her back.

“You’re never going to get this out,” she said with a small wheeze, motioning to the blood now soaking through onto his clothing.

The sun was behind a cloud when they exited the building; a small summer breeze welcomed them with a lazy embrace as he carried her to a small copse of trees. 

Green leaves fluttering languidly drew her attention as she brought her face away from underneath his chin. He missed the warmth of her breath against his neck, but slowly sat down with her broken form still cradled in his arms. Reaching up, he deftly plucked one of the thick green leaves off a tree and placed it in her hand.

She smiled gratefully, holding it close to her heart, no longer attempting to stem the steady flow of dark blood pouring from her wounds. A small cough escaped her, red spilling down her lips and chin. Gently he wiped the offending stain from her face, his hand remaining on her now sickly-pale cheek.

The warmth he remembered was dissipating, faster than he thought and his forehead met hers as if he could share his own. 

“I’ll see you soon, I’m sure,” he told her, voice hoarse, eyes dark.

Her small laugh turned into a small cough, but gently, she ran her bloodied fingers up his jaw, over his cheekbone, upon his lips. 

He desperately wished to close his eyes and just feel her touch, this touch he had felt so many times before in such different circumstances. His heart lurched as he knew it would be the last time for a very, very long time and he forced his eyes to remain on hers, slowly glazing over as they were.

Afterwards, he still sat under the small copse of trees, the sun now returned, the summer breeze softly caressing her hair, the green leaves swaying, the dark pool of blood growing cold, and his arms tightened just a bit more around her lifeless body.

[fenheart87]

Hello you there!

Hello Viewer! Fen here with a blurb, first off welcome to the crazy that is my blog!

Name is Fenheart or Fen. I’m 27, she/her, fanfiction writer and anime nerd. I dabble in quite a bit and my ADHD makes things uh unique shall we say. I wish I could cosplay more than I do but one day I will pick up that hobby again.

This is my main blog and for those interested in not scrolling for days to find my written works, at the top of here is the link to my writeblr and my AO3. Also feel free to search the tag “Fen’s Plunny Corner” or “Fenwrites” as I use those for my writing related posts. I focus on a fandom and pour the ideas out then move on to the next so if I don’t have anything up your alley yet, hang tight.

I have anon turned on for Asks, always open but there will be times I have it open for specific things. Please shout out there, as yourself or anon about different things I’ve written (you might be the drive that gets a little extra to a story), any sneak peeks I’ve given or feel free to ask questions, just know I reserve the right to not answer or only provide details I feel comfortable with.

I think that’s it for now, dropping links down below.

https://fenheart87.carrd.co/

Love Fen

[anathemafen]

Do you have like a master list or anything? Or a tag that I can look at to read all your writing? I just found you from your Solas Too Late piece (which was amazing!!) and I want to read more

oh wow thank you so much!!! I’ve been using #fenwrites as the tag, there’s also a link on my page and my AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathemafen ^_^ thank you again, this was super nice to come home to!!