#she didn’t want to be loved for her petals but for her thorns || inspiration

[alpydk]

A second prompt!

Tav had to survive the main story because they have vengence to dole out on someone from their past. When the day finally comes, either they can't do it or someone else (maybe Gale?) gets to the target first.

~🐕

Greetings Anon! Thank you for the precious angst prompts which I'm taking at random. I present you with the first one, which, as they always do, went a little off course and probably hasn't gone as you want it... Oops. But I hope you like it and it does have angst!

Red Roses

Word Count - 1513 words - CW - Angst, grief, God!Gale, themes of death, attempts at poetry.

It started with red roses, The smiling of a wife And flowers bloomed with welcome sun The beginning of my life.

Tav looked over the letter for some time after the party, the heartbreak apparent to everyone around her. It had been six months since the defeat of the Netherbrain and their minds had become their own, but it didn’t take tadpoles to know the thoughts running through her head. Gale had been there only moments before, power emanating from his pores, his eyes aglow like starlight, and she had fallen to the floor as he’d left her with nothing but the tears she’d held onto in hope now falling so readily.

This was not the first loss the high elf had been through before in her long life. There had been the human friends who’d passed because of their short lifespans, there had been the authors and poets dead to adventure, there had been so many during the Thay war, and the pain remained the same, but the loss of a loved one never got any easier. After the death of her first husband, she’d sworn never to love again, and she’d become cold to the world around her, refusing to share her past or open up to others. It was only as she’d journeyed with Gale that Tav had found herself back in her memories of her first love.

“Ascal, the poetry can wait,” she whispered, leaning over the shoulder of the chestnut-haired elf. He smelt of birch tinged with ink, and she breathed in his scent.

“My dear Tav, my muse and inspiration, poetry waits for no one. It comes with the shine of your eyes, the flush of your lips, the golden sun of your hair.”

Life had been one moment of happiness after another with him. She’d sat in the window of their small cottage as the rain had poured, watching as the petals of red roses bowed with the weight of the heavens, listening as Ascal plucked at his lute and mumbled lyrics of bright-eyed damsels under his breath. There had been picnics in fields of wildflowers, Arbor Coast White shared between them as the stars shone above them like remnants of the past, each one a soul watching down upon them with nothing but blessings.

It was not long later she learnt the harshest of life’s lessons, though, that death was but a word away.

Walking along the forest path, fresh flowers picked in her basket, Tav didn’t initially catch onto the smell of smoke that rose amongst the trees and wilds around her. It was only as the shadows built up that she saw the darkened plume that spread out above the tree line, heard the distant crackling of flames and the shout of those who lived nearby. The basket was ditched on the wayside as she started into a run, knowing deep in her heart where the source of the fire was and she longed to know that Ascal was safe, that he’d be stood outside, covered in soot but with a grin on his face.

It started with red roses, But soon plunged in the knife. The thorns as sharp as broken glass, The ending of my life

Time heals all wounds is what Tav had been told repeatedly and as an elf, she had plenty of time, time to mourn, time to grow angry and cold at the world. Nobody knew how the fire had started that morning, only that it had occurred suddenly with no witnesses. The flames had spread quickly throughout the wood and thatch of the roof, through the various books Ascal had insisted they kept, through the Arbor Coast White that left shards of glass scattered in the ashes. Nothing had remained of the life she had once known. There were only the ruins that crunched beneath her leather boots and the memories of stars that no longer shone for her.

Twenty-seven years had passed since that day, the ache still as fresh, the guilt still in her mind that maybe she could have done something differently that day. If she’d stayed at home, maybe she would have smelt the smoke and got them both out; maybe if she’d been quicker, she could have put out the flames or found him before the cottage collapsed. Maybe she could have just died with him. She’d tried to find the source of the fire many times, but all she had been left with was confusion as neighbours had denied there having even been a fire, as some questioned who she even was. Nothing made sense and even the gods refused her pleas for answers.

The first she really connected with after all those years was Gale. His poetic prose reminded her of all she had lost. His chestnut hair that smelt of sandalwood and ink brought her to those days of rain on rose petals and each moment she spent with him, she found herself back with Ascal once again. Mumblings of bright-eyed damsels and conjured fiends of wildflowers and stars only for her made her smile once again. She felt happy. It was only as the days passed she realised how different Gale was from her husband, how, although he had hope, he lacked the mindless optimism she’d once known. He was much more ambitious than Ascal had been, as hurt as she was, and filled with a self doubt she’d only ever seen in herself, but it was these qualities that drew them together. Their loneliness spurred them both into each other’s arms with reckless abandon. Again, she had loved, again her heart had driven her forward, and again the stars had shone down.

It started with red roses, But soon came down the scythe. And petals turned to darkened ash, The ending of my life.

Tav had been tempted by Gale’s offer of godhood, but she knew she couldn’t take it. She couldn’t see Ascal from another plane and not be able to reach him, and she couldn’t let go of her own mortality knowing what currently lay at the end of her life. Though she loved Gale, Ascal was what her heart called for, and she needed to know what had killed him before she could move on. Looking at her with disdain, Gale left her upon the shores of the river, and she knew the opportunity would never be presented to her again. It was as she unfolded the letter, though, that she knew she had made the right choice, as her tears began to fall, not with grief, but with a buried rage.

Does he live within his mother’s ageing heart, weeping for those roses? She could see the scarlet petals in front of her eyes, the raindrops on the windowpane. She saw the young boy with chestnut locks and deep brown eyes that lived nearby as he ran through the storm with a book hidden under his arm. It had once been a pleasant memory, but now she knew the truth. Rumours had gone round of strange happenings with the child, of sparks and flames he couldn’t always control and the watchful eye of the goddess Mystra ever present in his life. They had just been rumours, but now the dots connected as if constellations in the sky and she knew. Tav knew how the fire had started with flames licking upon the roses, how the neighbours had forgotten, thanks to the goddess, how Ascal had died alone and afraid.

She struggled for breath, trying to understand the cruel joke of the gods, how they would hide the truth from her, how they would use fate to bring her and Gale together. She wanted to find out if he had known all along about the fire, or had he been the pawn of Mystra back then, just as she’d seen during her travels? Her heart ached with anger and the fresh mourning of both Ascal and Gale alike, and it took everything in her to not scream to the sky and curse every god above.

She’d once been fuelled by vengeance; of the words she would say and the actions she would take, but now she had been left with nothing. There would be no justice or closure for her. The one at fault she’d allowed to ascend, and his name would be spoken for centuries to come, either in reverence or scorn. She, however, would be nothing but a footnote in history, a wilted rose petal on a dusty windowsill, a single conjured star as the magic faded.

Tav wiped away the tears from her reddened cheeks and left the party alone, anger replaced with numbness and resignation. All she could do now was wait to die, hoping that the gods she now cursed would take pity on her and let her find comfort in the arms of Ascal, let her see the stars shine and the roses bloom once again.

It started with red roses, And nights of shared breath. The petals delicate in my hands, The beginning of my death.

[genshin-impact-redesign]

I absolutely love the redesigns you showcase! They’re so gorgeous and the artists are talented!

Can I ask for your opinion on the design of my Dottore Segment OC Natalia? Keep in mind I didn’t make her outfit design as complex as hoyo does for their characters because I am not drawing all that detail.

OOUGHH

I am a sucker for multi-layered, long dresses. It gives a very medical vibe, which can either be inviting (ala cute/trusting nurse) or can be intimidating. They defo give off the latter vibe, like a creepy WW1/WW2 style nurse garb. Also the curly but still spiky hair makes me think of rose petals with thorns somehow <3 I also adore the little rope that keeps the mask and feathers attached to her shoulder, its a nice bit of asymmetry :D

Also I 100% get you on not wanting to draw all that detail!!

I actually study concept art at the moment, so I know a decent bit about character design. I'll put a more detailed analysis of the design + some ideas for them under a cut so you can choose whether or not you wanna read that, but I think she's super cute and I love her name <3 I would pull her

So the biggest thing I've noticed is that the design could use a bit more contrast, but since they're still meant to be monochromatic like Dottore's design, I'll compare to him to show what I mean by contrast!

If we put a black & white filter over the image, we can see that dottore has a lot of dark layers underneath bright layers, and then more dark layered on that! The contrast could be increased on her existing clothes (make the lightest colours lighter, make the darkest a bit darker) or you could add a few more layers so that contrast is spread throughout, instead of being localised to the mask & boots.

You could make the belt on her skirt a darker colour, change the shoulder piece to be darker, brighten the shirt, etc!

Another way Dottore's design has contrast is through the greys:

If we look here, his boots are actually more of a warm grey. This is the same with all of the metal detailing too! So even though his design is very monochromatic since it's all blue, there's a tiny bit of contrast created by making the neutrals warm tinted.

All the neutrals are slightly yellow/green hued, so they're warmer than blue without being extremely far from blue :) So you could make Natalia's boots & gloves more warm hued to get additional contrast :D

Lastly, you could exaggerate her silhouette by adding more volume to each of the layers of her skirt.

I don't have my tablet on me right now so I just did a quick draw over to show what I mean:

Just having each layer stick out a bit more so it stands out. You could also exaggerate the feathers on her shoulder if you wanted :D The simplicity of the outfit works super well for her actually, so having each layer stand out more will really elevate that!!

Despite the long winded explanation of colour theory, I really like her design and it'd only need a couple adjustments to improve, but she's so cute as is and you did an amazing job making her <3

OH AND LOOK AT WW1/WW2 NURSES they're amazing inspiration for plague-doctor style dresses. I used them as reference in one of my character designs for an assignment.

[elliemarchetti]

Tamlin Week Day 3

An excerpt from ACOTAR's chapter 19 in Tamlin's POV for @tamlinweek

Prompt: Mates

Words: 770

If they had suspected it during the day, at dinner it became perfectly clear that Feyre was in a bad mood. Both Tamlin and Lucien noticed as soon as she sank into her seat, and without needing further agreement, they decided to just chat with each other, sympathetic to what she might be feeling, far from home and seemingly destined never to see it, or her family, again. Of course, this didn’t stop the High Lord from following her into the rose garden at the end of the meal. Just to check on her, he told himself, and not because she was a sight to behold, with her hair of burnished gold kissed by the moonlight that stained the red petals a deep purple and casted a silvery sheen on the white blossoms. He hoped she found her surroundings inspiring, something worth of the art she so deeply loved.

“My father had this planted for my mother,” he said, still a few steps behind, sure he wouldn’t take the huntress by surprise. She didn’t bother to turn to acknowledge him, on the contrary, she dug her nails into her palms as he halted by her side.

“It was a mating present,” he went on, trying to distract her from the guilt she was undoubtedly feeling. Deep down, she probably knew she deserved better than what she had in the mortal lands, but she was unused to have the time and money needed to pursue her vocation, so he didn’t stop her when she stalked to the nearest bush and ripped off a rose, her fingers tearing on the thorns.

“I don’t know why I feel so tremendously ashamed of myself for leaving them. Why it feels so selfish and horrible to paint. I shouldn’t feel that way, should I? I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it,” she finally rambled, words flowing out of her mouth like a swollen river. “All those years, what I did for them… And they didn’t even try to stop you from taking me.”

There it was, the giant pain that cracked her in two if she thought about it too long. Over time, Tamlin had discovered that everyone had one, no matter how old or young they were. And Feyre… she had grown up too fast not to have already stumbled upon it.

“I don’t know why I expected them to, why I believed that the puca’s illusion was real that night. I don’t know why I bother still thinking about it, or why I still care. Compared to you, to your borders and magic being weakened, I suppose my self-pity is absurd,” she added, so resignated of something so wrong.

“If it grieves you, then I don’t think it’s absurd at all,” he replied, and although he wasn’t as silver tongued as his best friend nor as well versed when emotions were concerned, he spoke with his heart, because she needed to have her feelings validated for once.

“Why?” she asked flatly, chucking the rose into the bushes.

Before the crimson droplets could stain her dress, Tamlin took her hands, his calloused fingers, strong and sturdy, as gentle as possible as he lifted her wound to his mouth and kissed her palm to heal it. She was so thin, so fragile… she shouldn’t waste the blood that flowed in her veins, not even a drop.

“Why do any of this?” she pushed, and he stepped closer, making her tip her head back to meet his eyes, exposing her long neck. He wanted to bite her, leave his mark where anyone could see it, make her his even if he had no right to call her that.

“Because your humanity fascinates me. The way you experience things, in your life span, so wildly and deeply and all at once, is entrancing. I’m drawn to it, even when I know I shouldn’t be, even when I try not to,” he lied, or maybe he just omitted the end of the sentence. He truly was enthralled, and he was probably starting to love her, but she was bound to grow old and die, a concept foreign to him; there was no way for their souls to be two halves of the same, and she couldn’t be the mate he so desperately wished for, the female who was able to understand his wants and desired without the need for an explanation.

“One day there will be answers for everything,” he concluded, anticipating her next question, before brushing his lips against her heartbreakingly warm and soft cheek. “But not until the time is right. Until it’s safe.”

[nuntears]

in the beginning, his flowers keep dying.

he wasn’t born with a green thumb. he developed it through trial and error. and error. and error. and

in the beginning, he didn’t really mind if they died.

in fact, it was the process of them dying that fascinated him. captivated him, haunted him. inspired him.

one of the first ones seemed to observe him as much as he observed them.

they didn’t speak a lot. it unnerved him. it spiked his stutter. he wanted it to last but he also wanted it to end. he was so messy when he twisted their stems. let them dry and curl into themselves in the sun. let them rot the only way flowers know how. by ceasing, slowly, and making way for something more beautiful to take its place.

and another flower did, not too long after. she talked too much. it made him feel a different kind of unease compared to the last.

“why do you live alone? -- are you uncomfortable? -- why do you blink so much…hey, look at me -- look at me -- look”

it was overwhelming.

after lawrence had her planted and potted and sitting pretty in his small garden, she talked a little less. but not for long.

“i should have called my mom. i was thinking about it last week. decided not to. i wish i did. i haven’t called her in so long…” she said. he looked at her, hesitating.

“i haven’t called mine either.” he regretted it as soon as he said it, but he hoped she didn’t realize.

“please, let me go. i want to make things right. please, i want to tell my mom i love her.” he wanted to turn away but he didn’t. he didn’t move.

“please. hey. look at me. look at me, i’m talking to you! look at me!"

he didn’t. she took a while to wither. an uncomfortable while. so lawrence began to pull her apart. petals plucked, thorns clipped, stem twisted. pressed into the pages of a book, the remains only serving as a memory. flowers can be beautiful in death.

more flowers in her place, blossoming and withering, one after the another.

and then you came.

you were exactly how he liked.

with you, he learned, how to let flowers flourish. how to make flowers last.

[dross-the-fish]

Can' I have fem pronouns anon comforting Adam after the Dorian incident? Maybe, if it's not too much, she could give Adam a romantic kiss?

This was a little challenging. I was very tempted to go much darker with Adam's thoughts but for the sake of the drabble I kept it PG. References to murder and complicated feelings about a sexual encounter but nothing explicit and plenty of fluff for you at the end.

....

Adam lingered at the window of his hotel room, scowling down at the street below. There he was, Dorian Gray and his entourage of sycophants gathered around the window of a boutique. The sight of the afternoon sunlight catching the gold of Dorian’s curls and kissing the fair porcelain of his cheeks filled him with rage.

It was overwhelming, the urge to storm down and rip those glorious locks from his beautiful scalp like rending the petals from a rose and leaving it naked save for its jagged thorns. Adam flexed a massive hand and fantasized about grasping that swan-like throat and blackening it with bruises. He’d look so much better as a strangled corpse, tongue poking obscenely through blued lips, pretty eyes bulging and tainted with broken blood vessels. That was what Adam Frankenstein wanted to see when he looked at Dorian Gray.

“Adam?”

He turned from the window and stared at Anon, he did not have the will to conjure up a smile for her and though it should have chastened him to see her flinch at the harshness of his face he was too lost in his misery to care.

“You haven’t left your room in two days; everyone is starting to worry?”

“Are they?” he replied dispassionately, “You may tell them I’m fine.”

He turned again to the window, Dorian’s head was thrown back and he was laughing, clearly amused at something. Adam didn’t need to hear it to know how harsh and cruel that laugh could be. Even now he could imagine that it was directed at him, Dorian Gray reveling at his humiliation. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding. Behind him Anon gave a small gasp.

She could see Adam’s face reflected in the glass of the window pane and the malice on it chilled her. She’d never seen him look so hateful in all the time she’d traveled with the crew. She didn’t know anyone could look so hateful. This was not the incendiary lash of Edward’s quick temper or one of Erik’s histrionic tantrums. She could swear the whole room had gone colder and Adam’s deathly silence was becoming more and more unnerving. He looked like a man seriously contemplating murder and Anon felt compelled to intervene before something horrible manifested.

Cautiously she approached, laying a hand on Adam’s arm. He fixed her with an unblinking yellow eye. Tense as a coiled snake he waited.

She swallowed, taking a moment to find her voice, “Adam, come away from the window and sit with me,” she gently pulled his arm.

He cast one last glance at the window, gave a haughty scoff, and followed her to the bed, letting her guide him to sit next to her. She did not release his arm once they sat.

“I know you’re upset about what happened with Dorian Gray.”

Adam made a vicious sound low in the back of his throat, a forceful puff of air hissing through his clenched teeth.

“It’s alright to be angry but I’m worried you’re starting to lose yourself to it!” she continued, stroking his arm to try and calm him.

He inhaled and exhaled sharply, shoulders dropping as he let some of the tension leave his body, “I have encountered scorn, curses, and had shots fired at my person. None of it would surprise me or even inspire anger for it is expected. This? This was cruelty disguised as kindness. Contempt masquerading as love! I cannot understand it!” he buried his face in his hands, quaking with barely repressed fury.

Anon reached up and touched his shoulder “I know. What he did was wrong and no one thinks you deserved that. Adam, please let it go. For the sake of everyone who cares about you, you have to put this down before you go to far.”

Adam shifted uncomfortably. To go to far… he supposed Anon had a point, after all, hadn’t he already gone to far before? Fear began to give way to anxiety, he had thought about hurting Dorian, of killing him, but he hadn’t given any consideration to what would come after. He pictured trying to explain to Watson and Quincey what he’d done. The way their faces would twist in disappointment. Would they cast him out? Would eyes that had once seen a friend in him now only perceive a monster? His throat tightened uncomfortably at the thought.

Seeing that he was growing distressed Anon took one of his hands and held it, “Maybe if you talk about it, I can help,” she offered gently.

Watery eyes bored into her own, if his rage had been terrible his anguish was worse.

“I thought Dorian saw a human being when he looked at me…when he-when he touched me. No one has ever touched me as though I were beautiful, as though I were wanted and worthy of such affections. I had no idea that the feel of someone’s hand on my skin could be so loveless. He hurt me more with a single caress than others have with cudgels and fists,” his voice broke and tears flowed down his cheeks, catching in the deep grooves of scars and pooling in the pockets of his torn skin.

“I was no more a person to him than one of his stud hounds,” he stood suddenly and paced frantically before turning to Anon with a hollow, haunted look, “I am not a creature! I am not a thing! I do not want to be a thing to anyone any longer.”

Anon rose to wrap her arms around his waist, “Adam, you aren’t a thing to any of us. You never have been, I promise we all care about you.”

He broke down. What little strength he had left his body and he sank to the floor, burrowing his head into the crook of Anon’s neck while he wept. Anon did her best to hold him, given his large size, and stroked his hair until he calmed.

“You must think I’m terribly ungrateful. You have all been kind to me, given me more than I ever hoped to have and still I am not content,” he lamented, lifting his wet cheek from Anon’s shoulder. He sighed at the sight of the tearstains on her collar, “I’m sorry, I am making a mess of you,” he attempted to smooth the material back into place.

Stifling a laugh Anon caught his hand, “Adam, it’s fine. You’re allowed to cry on my shoulder,” she leaned forward and kissed his cheek very softly, a gesture that nearly undid him again.

“That was-that was very kind of you,” Adam replied, lifting his hand to touch the spot she had kissed, as though he wanted to grasp and save the small caress. He almost rose to his feet when he noticed Anon was staring very intently.

“Adam,” she asked reaching out to trace his cheek with her fingers, “may I kiss you again?”

Unable to break her stare he nodded, warmth rising to his face. As she drew near to him again he shut his eyes, wanting no sight or sound to distract him from the sensation of her lips on his skin.

It was not his cheek they touched this time. Her mouth pressed his with such tender sweetness he thought he would die from it. Still as stone he sat, for fear that if he moved the fragile, crystalline, moment would shatter and leave him sunken on his knees in broken glass.

 It was only when she moved against him that he softened under her, tentatively returning the kiss as best he could with his torn mouth. When she finally drew away he opened his eyes. There was no mocking, no smirk. The kindness in her gaze threatened to break him and he found himself grasping both of her hands and kissing them over and over in gratitude.

“You have never been a monster to me, Adam,” she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he dissolved into ragged sobs.

[highgardcnrose-blog]

tag drop

she didn’t want to be loved for her petals but for her thorns || inspiration

I used to be gossamer and silk || answers

castles in her bones & coronets in her heart || aesthetic

as clever as she is pretty || portraits

heart of gold and stardust soul || headcanons

blossoms under kindness like a rose || asks

wanted to be the queen || about

voice like honey and lips like petals || interactions

words that water flowers || music

it was in my flaws I found a much deeper truth || words

flowers grow back even after they are stepped on || house tyrell

different flowers from the same garden || leonette

|| shireen

you make flowers grow inside me & stars realign when you laugh || edmure

[blueathens]

One Thousand And One Red Roses

Summary: Inspired by the scene from Gilmore Girls. The one where Ben proposes to you with a thousand and one red roses.

Song: Agape by Nicholas Britell Quote: “And one.”

𝖱𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽

Masterlist//Dusk Till Dawn Masterlist//Agape Masterlist

The story of a red rose came from Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love. The myth of it states that her lover, Adonis was wounded and she pricker her foot on the thorns of a white rose in her haste to run to him. And alas, but that single prick her blood stains the petals red, turning the symbol of a red rose into a form of passion and romantic devotion. There is even a legend that speaks of words of Cleopatra seducing Mark Anthony in a room fully covered in red rose petals.

And it is a known fact that a dozen red roses boldly declares to the receiver that they were madly in love with them, whilst one single rose is said to show devotion and loyalty.

But a thousand red roses? Now that was love.

Sweet, devoted, loyal, passionate, and ever-lasting love.

And that was all the downstairs was filled with, Y/n coming home to the uttermost shock after her best friend called screaming about how the police was coming due to a break in. But it was all a fake, a plan for Y/n to come home quicker eyes widening at the sight in front of her.

Scattered round the room that she was slowly turning around in was roses that were only pure late crimson. The hybrid perpetual never seemed to wilt from the lack of soil or goodness as it all sat in beautiful forms of decoration of such as bags or handmade vases. The hundred leaved plants filled the room with an enchanting fragrant, a fragrance so sweet you’ll think it’s a love spell.

It was truly magnificent the way they sprung a beautiful aliveness to the room with the beauty it brings. And just like the thorns that prick a rose, her tears prick her eyes. Her ears perk up at the soft call of her name as she turns around, gasping at the sight of her man on one knee with a single rose in his hand along with an open ring box, the sparkling diamond ring shining up to her, but nothing could shine brighter than the setting around her.

“On our first date you told me that you would want to be proposed with a thousand flowers as a joke.” Ben began whilst Y/n brought a shaky hand towards her mouth as silent tears streamed down her face. “But I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a joke by the way you’re reacting.”

It was the way he remembered the small joke she made on their first date, before she told him that she can’t picture herself getting married, so for her to be engaged to she wouldn’t care for it to happen at the back of McDonalds, for the reason being if they even considered of marrying her then they were already special enough for wanting to be stuck with her.

“But I changed the dream a bit,” he admitted, grinning up at her with that smile that could break a thousands hearts if he wanted to. “I couldn’t get that horse,” Y/n let out a soft sobby laugh as she shook her head gently. “Well, I could, but I thought it be best not to after a traumatizing moment we had with one.” His eyes shone so brightly, and the way he looked with the roses surrounding him was a sight that was sure not to be missed. “I love you.”

“Ben-”

“No, wait, please,” Ben asked holding up the singular rose in his hand. “I broke the wish more by not giving you one thousand red roses.” Y/n took the flower out of his hand only to feel that it didn’t feel right. “I got you one thousand and one. And I will love you until every one of these flowers die.” He nodded his head to the flower in her hand. “And that one won’t because it’s a fake,” Ben then nodded his head towards the coffee table where Y/n’s eyes shifted too quickly. “There’s a glass rose too…with the first time we met engraved into the stem of it.”

Y/n sniffled as she looked back down at Ben.

“I love you so much Y/n and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I wanted to marry you the moment I met you because I knew you was it…there was no one else but you. I knew it when you spluttered milk out from your nose when someone told you a joke…I knew it then and I still know it now.”

“Ben-”

“And you even told me in the beginning you don’t see yourself getting married, so I don’t need an answer now. But I know…I know that I want you and I want you to feel the same. I love you Y/n L/n and I know this to be true. So just think about it please and-”

“I want to marry you,” she whispered with a voice of truth and tears of happiness. “I love you and want to marry you.”

Ben grinned wider as he too cried.

“Yeah?” He stood up as she nodded vigorously.

“I mean you did give me one thousand-”

“And one.”

“And one red roses…I gotta be mad to say no to that.” Ben walked towards her, holding her by the waist (box still in one hand) as his nose brushes her. Her hands went round his neck as she kept the stem of the fake rose in her hands. “I’ll love you until every rose in this room dies.”

And with that Ben kisses her in the room of perfumed roses, kissing her so passionately but so lovingly as he marks her lips with a promise of forever.

“Ben,” she whispered against his soft lips that holds the taste of their tears mixing together as they continued to cry happily.

“Hmm.”

“The ring?” Ben just smiled as he took the ring out of it’s box, dropping it to the ground as he holds her left ring up, sliding the ring onto it as he brings it up to his lips.

“You wanna know why we put this ring on that finger?” Ben questions as their lips moved to brush each other’s again, allowing Y/n no time to admire its beauty. But she didn’t mind as she just wanted to kiss him now and forever.

“Why?” She uttered with hooded eyes as she waited for his lips to be on top of hers again.

“Its said to have a vein that runs directly to the heart.” He told her quietly. “A vein of love.”

“Of course you’re crazy enough to know that.”

“Crazy in love with you? Yeah.”

And with that the couple was stood kissing in the rose room where no petals fell, only stood taller as the love was spread.

And their love could forever give life to the roses around them. Aphrodite and Adonis may have started the beauty, but Y/n and Ben were sure to be the couple that allows it to never die.

For the one thousand and one roses stood there for their love and their love only, never threatening to die as they embraced the sweet atmosphere around them, nearly dancing to the love in the air.

One thousand and one roses…

A/N: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zAriGyY7JHk

I LOVE GILMORE GIRLS SO MUCH....gonna dip now

Also that piece of music in song, is my favourite instrumental piece.

[unfortunate17]

if you have time and inspiration, I would love to see what you'll do with obikin + 51 or 6 from the dialogue prompt list!

Here you go! I went with #6 from THIS list 

Premise: “Am I going to die?” with a Hanahaki twist 🥰

This got very fluffy at the end, hopefully that’s alright with you.

The sterile scent of bacta brings Anakin out of his restless slumber. The stark white glare of the Halls of Healing is blinding for a moment, light making his pupils wide and sore. He blinks awake steadily, heart monitor beeping faint and rhythmic by his side. Consciousness slides in, the force slamming into him in urgency.

There’s a tube down his throat.

Anakin grapples at it for a brief, panicked breath. Swallowing around it is sharply painful and his eyes widen in alarm.

“Anakin, Anakin, please,” Bant’s voice is low and frantic, even as she tries to send him soothing waves of energy. She’s an exceptional healer, Anakin’s seen her in action many times, what with her and Obi-Wan’s years old friendship. “Calm down, young one. I hadn’t planned on you being awake quite yet.”

She holds him back against the pillow even as Anakin gags. The tube dislodges gently from his esophagus with an expert wave of her hand.

Anakin coughs as he spits out the tube, inhaling deeply enough to feel the familiar pinpricks of pain in his chest. Petals fall from his mouth as he does, white and blood-tinged and just as frightening as it had been the first time.

Somehow, he’d thought he’d get used to it at some point. But the sensation of retching jewel flowers is continually jarring. At least this time there hadn’t been any thorns.

Bant’s eyes are sad as she regards him, even if Anakin flinches away from it. She gentles him back against the pillow once more. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner, my dear?”

“Why? What good would that do?” Anakin keeps his eyes firmly away from Bant’s searching look, tracing the blue bedcovers intently. “There’s no cure.”

A small, wounded sound is emitted to his left. Finally, Anakin’s conscious mind acknowledges what the force has been trying to tell him.

Obi-Wan.

Bant sighs heavily, straightening. She lets down the curtains that surround his bed to give him a semblance of privacy. “Your master insists on speaking with you, young one. I couldn’t keep him out.” She squeezes Anakin’s shoulder in what is most likely supposed to be an act of support before she turns away.

Anakin swallows down another mouthful of petals.  “Hello Master,” he snarks, eyes still averted, “come to watch the show?”

He feels the bed dip at his side as Obi-Wan sits. Anakin resists the urge to squirm away.

“Anakin.”

Now there are fingers under his jaw, tipping his head upwards. Obi-Wan’s eyes are like storm clouds when they meet his own, brows knitted together until the skin between them dimples. Anakin grits his teeth against the urge to do something stupid, like kiss him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The question hangs between them, caught on a plethora of unspoken words.

Anakin laughs. The sound gives way to another fit of coughs. This time, he ends up having to spit out thorns. He wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his hospital gown and the fabric comes away bloody.

Obi-Wan looks absolutely stricken, hands rubbing at Anakin’s back in soothing circles.

“How could I have possibly told you?” Anakin counters sharply. “I’m a Jedi. I’m supposed to live by the code – ”

“Do you really think me so heartless that – ”

“Well you’ve given me enough lectures about my attachments – ”

“I’m trying to help you, when will you understand that I can’t if you don’t tell me anything.”

“Are you even listening to me?” Anakin grits at last. He fights the urge to shove Obi-Wan off the bed. “It’s against the code – ”

“To hell with the code, Padawan.”

The world bottoms out from under Anakin’s stomach. He’s sure that if he was standing, he would have fallen over by now. “What?” he croaks.

Obi-Wan seizes him by the shoulders, bleeding desperation into the force. “Bant told me what kind of sickness this is. Force knows how you’ve hidden this from me for this long. But this ends here, you understand? She said there’s a procedure – ”

“No.”

Obi-Wan looks at him helplessly. “Be reasonable, Anakin.”

“No,” Anakin chokes. He tries to imagine life after removing those precious seeds of love from his lungs, stripping his feelings for Obi-Wan from his soul. The sweet air of the galaxy, free from gore and thorns. Tries to imagine his death as the ultimate consequence. Fear grips him for a singularly tense moment as he meets Obi-Wan’s anguished gaze. “Am I going to die?” he asks, breathless.

“No, my dear one,” Obi-Wan soothes a hand down his cheek, leans in to press their foreheads together. His voice is hushed. “If we can get you to surgery in time, then everything will be fine, Anakin.”

“No.”

Obi-Wan makes another hurt sound, like he can’t quite hold it back. He’s silent for a moment before he continues, voice pained. “Perhaps if – if we spoke to the person who’s. Who you – ”

Anakin tenses. “He doesn’t feel the same way.”

Obi-Wan squeezes his eyes shut. Anakin watches the line of his throat work as he swallows, sweeps his gaze up to the neatly trimmed beard, the faint lines that bracket his mouth where his smile dimples.

He tries desperately to keep his hands to himself.

Obi-Wan leans back, but the space between them remains infinitesimal. Anakin trembles as lips settle gently on his forehead in a kiss.

“Then he’s a fool, my dear,” Obi-Wan murmurs against heated flesh. Another kiss. “I am sure you will love again. If you would only – ”

“It’s you, Master.”

Anakin shudders as Obi-Wan’s body tenses in a single, terrifying moment of silence. He needs to cough, but he doesn’t dare do so. He’s thought of this moment a thousand times over, worked through every possibility of rejection, every serene, reasonable explanation Obi-Wan could possibly give him. The only mystery that remains is which scenario will manifest itself.

The answer, however, is none of them, for Obi-Wan laughs.

When he draws back, his eyes are wet, but still unbelievably kind. Anakin’s stomach plummets. “Anakin,” Obi-Wan pushes saber-calloused fingers into the tangle of Anakin’s hair. “Anakin. Come now, we’re smarter than this.”

“Speak for yourself,” Anakin snarls in response. “Some of us – ”

“Oh you misunderstand me, dear,” Obi-Wan murmurs, silencing Anakin’s words immediately. He draws Anakin near, settles their bodies together, the warmth of him seeping through the thin layer of Anakin’s hospital tunic. “I’m merely poking fun at how we’re both apparently blind.”

Anakin blinks, dares to raise his eyes to meet Obi-Wan’s. “What’re you saying?” he asks, something hot blossoming in the very core of his psyche. Their bond throbs. “Master – ”

“Contrary to your opinion of me, Anakin, I am not a fool,” Obi-Wan looks almost amused now. “At least, not enough of a fool to ever turn you away.”

Anakin scrambles forward the second the words are spoken. Obi-Wan nearly stumbles backwards from the unexpected force of his kiss, but he smiles into it, mouth curving upwards in that absolutely maddening way. His mouth his sweet, honey suckled, and Anakin feels like a man starved.

“Easy,” Obi-Wan murmurs against his lips, “Slowly, Anakin.”

“No.” Anakin nearly grumbles, he’s quite literally a dying man, but of course Obi-Wan would –

“I take it you won’t require further treatment?”

Bant’s voice is jarring, but playful, as she calls at them from outside the curtain. Anakin almost bowls over at the thought; he’d somehow managed to completely forget the situation in his euphoria. Obi-Wan gasps softly as he pulls away and Anakin wants to hear that sound again and again and again –

Then they’re all laughing, Bant included, the sound of it carrying brightly through the wide, airy room.

Obi-Wan grins at him, eyes squished into little half-moons of happiness, and Anakin takes a deep, clear breath for the first time in months.

[hphmmatthewluther]

The Amortentia Incident

Merula was only in the Potions Classroom because she’d left her bag there. Snape was nowhere to be seen, and so she’d taken the initiative and unlocked the door on her own to get her bag before the next lesson. It was lunchtime now, and so she had some time to get it before her next lesson. She scowled. As far as she was concerned, it was that idiot Matthew Luther’s fault. He’d clearly distracted her, probably apologising to someone, and made her forget to take her bag with her. It couldn’t have been anything else he’d done, right?

She made her way towards their table, and grabbed her bag. Nothing was missing from it, which was a relief. She slung it around her shoulder and was about to leave, when she noticed one of the cauldrons was still on. It was by a student’s table and was still being heated. Merula cautiously stepped closer to it. Her attention really had been off today. For as she peered into the potion, she missed the label on the cauldron in Professor Snape’s handwriting, which read: “IMPURE- MUST BE DISINTEGRATED”. But she was too busy thinking about Matthew’s stupid face to notice. It was as if he always wanted to say something, but for whatever reason was too frightened to say it.

Merula put it down to her intimidating nature and examined the potion in the steaming hot cauldron. It was a reddish-pink hue, and it swirled without a spoon stirring it. It looked familiar, but Merula couldn’t quite place it. Even without smelling it, the aroma caught her nose, practically forcing her to sniff. It was sickeningly sweet, as if the potion were several gallons of melted chocolate. Now Merula felt hungry, and a little disoriented. Then, something strange happened, even by Hogwarts standards.

The smoke of the potion started billowing out at a faster rate, up into the air of the Potions Classroom. Merula was beginning to panic, fearful of Snape’s reaction to her screwing up this potion, whatever it was. She moved forward, about to turn off the heat, when she heard something. Laughter. From a voice she recognised. Coming from the cauldron. She watched in awe as the smoke converged, tinted by the reddish-pink, until two gleaming green eyes appeared in midair. Then, around them, a head of hair that went down past the face’s jaw, but not to the shoulders. From there, arms appeared, with hands fit for a musician. Merula couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“...Luther?” she said finally.

The smoky figure smiled, tilting its head to the side. “Who else, Songbird?”

Merula’s cheeks went pink at the mention of the nickname. She wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but she was beginning to piece things together. For one thing, there were roses on the table nearest the cauldron, as well as a note with “fifteen times counterclockwise” written and underlined several times. This was a Love Potion, but clearly a poorly made one. Love Potions, didn’t do...this, right?

“What’s wrong, Merula?” Matthew asked, “You seem...perturbed.”

Merula looked up at Matthew, but had to quickly look away. She had never seen that look in his eyes before. “N...None of your business!” she snapped.

Instead of flinching, as Matthew normally would have done, he leant forward. “Oh, Songbird, if something’s troubling you, then it’s my business.”

Merula gulped. She felt rooted to the spot, as Matthew examined her. She saw that his hair was slightly longer than usual, and was somehow defying gravity in that it ebbed and flowed like waves of water.

“What do you want?” she asked, curious as to what this thing was.

Matthew chuckled, as his smoky form moved out of the cauldron and towards Merula. “I’d like an awful lot of things...you in my arms...your hands running through my hair...but I’d settle for just a kiss.”

She went very very pink at that. Merula shook her head, hoping the hallucination would vanish. She could no longer hide her blush, but she was fairly confident her knees weren't going to give way...yet.

“Oh, and if there’s...anything you want from me, I’d, ah, be more than happy to oblige.”

Merula tried to martial her thoughts, but all she could think about was how soft Matthew’s voice was. Sure, it was always relatively...nice...but now it was as if his voice was a wind travelling through a forest...an image only reinforced by Matthew’s bright green eyes, in which Merula swore she could see the outline of trees. This train of thought, however, was brought to an emergency stop as she felt his translucent arms wrap around her. She let out a quiet squeal, that wasn’t completely out of shock.

“Nnng...if I find out this is actually you, Luther, I swear, I’ll...” she began, but stopped as she came face to face with him yet again. “What potion even does this sort of thing?”

“Mmm, Maybe I know how it happened...maybe...” Matthew mused.

“...And are you going to tell me?” Merula asked.

“...I would if you kissed me.” Matthew whispered.

That pink feeling returned as Merula looked away again. “Come on, Songbird, who’s gonna know?” Matthew asked, swirling around her. Merula hated how tempting his offer was. Sure, she’d started thinking about this sort of thing, but Matthew Luther? Her rival? She admitted he was somewhat attractive, but that was to be expected for a rival of someone like her. Still, it did help that his voice was rather soft, she admitted, and having him act like this made her feel...special. It was enough to make part of her wish the real Matthew would treat her like this...almost. But when she looked at this vision of her rival, at the forests in his eyes, something was missing. Not fear, but caution. Matthew was always able to sense danger or if something was off, like some sort of deer. But that caution, which had saved both his own neck and Merula’s, was absent. Focusing on it was the only way Merula could ground herself again.

“I appreciate the offer, but I have places to be, Luther.” she said flatly, turning to leave.

“If you ever want to speak to me again...” Matthew said, fading as Merula backed away from the cauldron, “stir twelve times anticlockwise then thrice clockwise, and add more thorns than petals. I’ll be there...waiting on that kiss.”

Merula sat down in the Great Hall and quickly ate her lunch. She couldn’t get him out of his head. And when she saw Matthew, the real Matthew, sit down to eat his lunch, she felt like going over and asking for him to hold her. But she couldn’t do that. And she had no plans of making that imperfect Love Potion anytime soon. Nevertheless, she wrote down the words “More thorns than petals, 12 anti then three clockwise” in a box and highlighted them. Just in case she ever needed to remember.

(inspired by @nikyiscreepy​ ‘s brilliant art!)

[kienava]

~~i stayed up til 4 am and wrote beauyasha and i regret nothing~~

When the Nein return to the tower, Beau finally has a chance to read Yasha's poem.

Awkward conversation ensues in a room full of flowers.

_______

how do i wake my spirit cold? [AO3 link]

It had taken Beau a solid three reads to convince herself that this poem was actually real, not just something that her cold-snapped brain had imagined for a fleeting sense of warmth. She’d gone from staring at the words blankly to reading slowly, scrutinizing the angles of each letter, and on her seventh read she’d discovered that it was impossible to tear her eyes off the piece of parchment in her hands. This was now the eighteenth time in a row she’d scanned over these four lines, though she’d long since memorized their contents. At this point, she was less reading a poem and more gazing at a painting. Its beautiful simplicity hit all at once, like a thin blade between the ribs.

Many months ago, Beau might have guessed that Yasha’s handwriting would resemble her intimidating appearance, or maybe even her fighting style: sharp and strong, rough strokes and firm lines. Now, the slight, slanted script on the page came as no surprise, not when Beau had all but reached out and touched the soft edges hidden under layers of rage and anguish - and shawls. Yasha was big on shawls.

Eventually, Beau knew, she would have to put this piece of paper down and stop reading, but her hands and eyes had yet to consider that idea for themselves.

Her breath stayed steady despite her sparking nerves, years of practice kicking in to steady her. After she folded that piece of parchment up, what could she possibly do? Sleep? Not a gods-damned chance. The tower was safe and still, much unlike the thumping in her chest. As skilled as she’d become at controlling her lungs and diaphragm, the ability to keep her heart calm eluded her.

She knew it was a symptom of something that she’d avoided addressing for as long as possible, a creature that would longer allow itself to be pushed off and locked up. Beau had done her best to drown it alive when she’d learned why Yasha pressed her own heart between the pages of a book to desiccate along with torn petals and broken thorns. Loving dead flowers left little room to tend a new garden.

For all Beau’s attempts to do otherwise, she kept coming back to this, perennially doomed to weather the most apocalyptic storms.

In an effort to inspire some new consideration besides poetry, Beau let the paper flutter onto her desk and took to the fighting post. She’d been curious to see how adaptable the tower’s contents really were, and she’d asked Caleb for a variety of weighted staves to train with in this rendition. She grabbed the heaviest one from its mount on the wall. Maybe if she exhausted herself by whaling on the fighting post, she’d be able to fall asleep sometime in the next several hours.

As soon as she started swinging, it was clear that her plan would be fruitless. Her muscles could go on autopilot and run through routines she knew deep in her bones, and she’d built up too much stamina fighting gnolls and ghosts and undead sea monsters to tire herself to the point of genuine exhaustion.

Despite all of her mediation training, she couldn’t shut her brain off. She’d been in research mode for weeks now, mind racing constantly to piece together theories that somehow sounded less and less wild the more their group trekked on. Even while sparring with this helpless post, she exerted more effort willing herself not to sit back down at her desk and scour between the grains of the paper Yasha had given her for clarity and truth.

She made a last-ditch effort at meditating, sitting in the middle of the room with her legs crossed, counting her inhales and exhales. It was the first technique Dairon had taught her, the simplest form of breathwork. The goal was not to control or influence the breath, but to build awareness of one’s natural pace without judgment. At the time, Beau laughed at the possibility that she could go a second without judging (herself or others). But she'd changed so much since then.

She felt herself smile, recalling a conversation from what felt like ages ago.

Thank you for not judging me, Beau.

Have you seen me? Who am I to fucking judge?

I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you a lot.

Was that it? Was that the moment that the harmless flirting had developed its own sense of gravity? That Beau had suddenly found herself tongue-tied during their most superficial conversations, yet secretly hoping for even the briefest moment alone together?

Without intention, her breath had started to line up with the endearingly crooked meter of the poem repeating infinitely in her mind. She inhaled through one line, then emptied her lungs by the end of the next.

Each time she ran through that short stanza again, more questions frayed out like a string splitting endlessly. None of the answers she sought could be found in the library. She’d only need to go one floor down, not two.

All distractions exhausted, Beau considered knocking on someone else’s door instead of seeking the one stamped with lilacs, but she couldn’t come up with a good reason to do so. Veth and Caleb would be together, huddled in front of a cozy fire and having one of those intense conversations meant only for them. Caduceus usually went to sleep early anyway, and he’d eaten a whopping dinner. No way he’d still be up. Fjord had taken up his own meditation practice, and far be it from Beau to interrupt that. Jester - well, that was just a bad idea. If Beau mentioned the poem (and there was very little chance she’d be able to talk about anything else), Jester might just drag her down to Yasha’s room and throw her through right the door.

If Yasha could be brave, so could Beau. In fights, that was the very thing that pushed her to go as hard as she did. She knew that Yasha would be there to pull her out of a giant lobster claw if her risks didn’t pay off. They had each other's backs, always.

Would that still be the case when neither of them held a weapon in their hands?

Only one way to find out.

Beau opened and closed her own door as quietly as possible. Jester had some kind of sixth sense when it came to Beau’s interactions with Yasha, and Beau really didn’t want to explain anything when she wasn’t even entirely sure what was going on herself. She whispered the command word to the lift and sank slowly to the next floor down. She was careful to keep her knock quiet, though it probably wouldn’t wake Caduceus. No promises that Jester wouldn’t somehow hear it, no matter how thick Caleb claimed the walls were.

There was a long beat before Beau heard footsteps. Her stomach flipped - had she woken Yasha up? Normally she relied on some burst of brash confidence to start a conversation, and it had already taken her nearly an hour to build up the courage to step into the hallway and onto the lift. This was too different from the casual check-ins and mid-battle flirting that had happened more often in recent weeks, and Beau forgot every normal greeting she knew when the lilac-emblazoned door swung open.

She only had one thought: “Yasha.”

“Goodnight, Beau,” Yasha said. Quickly, she added, “Not goodnight like ‘goodbye, you should leave.’ Goodnight as in good morning. Like a greeting, I mean.”

“Ha, yeah. Goodnight, I guess,” Beau replied with a little wave. This was going about as badly as possible. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, no, no. I was just - well, I cannot read Zemnian, but those books Caleb gave us have very nice covers.”

“Yeah, they’re cool,” Beau said. She had an opening here. Might as well take it. “Speaking of reading...”

Yasha raised her eyebrows.

Beau tried to swallow the dryness in her mouth. It didn’t work. “I checked out your poem.”

“Oh, you did?” Yasha asked.

“You sound surprised.”

“Maybe a little.”

Beau wasn’t sure where to go with that, and all she could come up with was a stilted laugh.

Yasha joined in with her own quiet chuckle. The way she bit her lip, lost in thought, made it clear that she was just as much at a loss for words.

This was a bad idea. Beau hadn’t been thinking straight, obviously, when she’d come down here with a million questions and no plan for how to ask them.

“Okay,” Beau said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “I guess I’m gonna--”

“Do you want to come in?”

Beau blinked. “What? I mean, sure. Yeah.”

Yasha stepped back from the door to open it wider, and Beau stepped inside the flower-laden room for the first time since Caleb’s magical mansion tour.

The door settled shut behind them, and they were left standing in the middle of the bright, colorful blossoms.

“So,” Yasha started. She didn’t go on.

“Nice plants,” Beau commented, nearly smacking herself across the face for it.

Fortunately, Yasha smiled at that. “Caleb really thought of everything for this place.”

Beau’s mind flashed to the mirror mounted above her bed, and for the first time in many years she had to remind herself to breathe. She was more than getting ahead of herself.

“Anyway,” Yasha said, drawing out the end of the word a little more than normal, “what brings you down to the fifth floor?”

“Ah, just got lost on my way to the kitchen, thought I’d swing by,” Beau tried.

Every time Yasha let out even a small laugh, Beau counted it as a win.

The most concrete question burning in Beau’s skull was rooted in something ugly and frightened. She asked it anyway. “So did Jester put you up to that?”

“It was her idea, yes,” Yasha admitted.

“Oh,” Beau said, not quite catching her voice from cracking.

“I shouldn’t have said that. She only helped because I asked.”

“So it was your idea?”

“Not quite. I don’t think. Not the poem thing, specifically. I told her I wanted to...do something, for you, and that is what she suggested.”

Beau fought against the urge to convince herself that those words could mean anything other than what she wanted to hear. She’d been jumping through flaming mental hoops for weeks, maybe months, trying to talk herself out of this. And then Yasha had the pleasant audacity to write her a poem.

“No one’s ever done that before. For me,” Beau reiterated. She held her hands up. “Hey, I’m no expert, but I thought it was dope.”

“No, you didn’t,” Yasha dismissed.

“No, I did.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

Yasha busied herself by stroking the petal of a nearby flower with her thumb, a small smile creeping in.

“Why’d you write it?” Beau asked. 

Yasha’s fingers stilled. Her gaze stayed fixed on the flower in her hand, and her slight smile grew.

“Do you have a favorite flower, Beau?”

There was the answer Beau wanted to give, and then there was the truth. In the dense quiet, the latter won out. “Not really. Kinda wish I did. Do you?”

“I think...” Yasha gently plucked the flower from its stem. “I think they are all my favorite.”

“Really?”

Yasha nodded, cradling the flower in her palm.

It was, quite possibly, the happiest Beau had ever seen her. She suddenly wished that she knew the name of this plant, of every plant in the room. If something could bring Yasha such tranquil joy, it was worth knowing. 

“The ones in this room are from all over. I’ve never even heard of some of them,” Yasha said.

“Caleb probably read about a thousand botany books just for this.”

“Probably,” Yasha laughed.

“Come on. You’ve gotta have a favorite,” Beau pushed, in the back of her mind hoping that she could use the information for future reference.

Yasha shook her head. “My book...I was keeping it for Zuala at first, but I think I am also keeping it for myself now. I want to remember the places that I’ve been and the things that happened there. Because those things have brought me here, and I am very happy about that, even if some of what happened was...not so happy. I would not be here, with all of you, without every single one of those flowers.” 

She held her hand out, presenting the plucked flower. Beau stared at the five long, carefree, white petals, tinged with a sunshiny yellow at the tips. Slowly, she reached out and was surprised to find the petals were rich and soft like velvet. She couldn’t recall ever seeing it before - maybe it was from Xhorhas.

“And,” Yasha met Beau’s eyes, “finding new favorite flowers to add to my book does not mean I forget the old ones.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Beau agreed.

“This one reminds me a lot of you, actually,” Yasha said, almost whispering to herself. 

Beau felt her heart skip. She’d never been given a poem before, and she’d certainly been compared to something so delicate and precious. She wracked her brain for something witty to say, but she’d never been very good at that around Yasha. “It does?” she choked out.

“It grows in the desert,” Yasha explained. “It's very stubborn and strong. We called it Sunsbane. Even with very little water, it survives the hottest days. The buds stay closed for many years, but the plant stays strong. The roots grow deeper than you’d ever guess just from looking at it above the surface. It can take a long time, but when the nights get cool enough, the flowers finally bloom.” She paused, sweeping her hair behind her ear. “You probably didn’t come here to hear so much about plants, though.”

Beau could very well have been in the desert herself at the moment - her mouth went dry again, and she felt like it was about a thousand degrees in that room.

Untrusting of her own ability to form words after that, she lifted the flower from Yasha’s hand, then reached up and tucked its short stem back where Yasha had fixed her hair.

“Hey,” Beau managed.

“Mhm?”

“You can tell me about plants anytime, alright?”

“Alright,” Yasha returned. “Okay.”

Beau retreated a step, realizing how close they’d been standing. “White’s kinda more your color, though. Plus, the yellow really...your eyes, it - works. Looks nice. Um, goodnight.”

There was a strange look on Yasha’s face, like she was thinking too hard.

“What?” Beau risked asking.

“Just that...I didn’t answer your question yet. About the poem.”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s cool, honestly--”

“Beau.” Yasha said her name so softly that Beau had no choice but to stop protesting.

Yasha took the flower from behind her ear and clutched it to her chest. “You should know that I like this flower very much.”

So much of Beau’s old self - the person who’d just tried to leave again - wanted to bolt for the door, but her new self locked down and stood her ground. Inhale, exhale. “I think it likes you, too,” she said weakly.

Yasha waved her hand, still holding onto the flower. “Jester said some things, and I - well, I don’t know. I didn’t think I should hear them from someone else in case they weren’t true or--”

“They are,” Beau jumped in. “I don’t know what she said, exactly, but I can guess.”

“How do you mean?”

“Like I tried not to for a while. And then that became more impossible than it already was. Just like Sunsbane, I guess. Deep roots, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Yasha said suddenly. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Not that I - I wasn’t expecting anything. You’ve surprised me in a lot of ways, is all.”

Beau couldn’t handle the guilt on Yasha’s face. It wasn’t her fault, everything that had happened to her, to them. Beau would’ve waited a thousand days in the desert if it meant letting Yasha heal and find herself.

The gap between them had shrunk again, somehow, but it was more unbearable than ever. It felt like every time they got closer by half, always lessening the space but never quite meeting. But Beau was very good at breaking things, and, for once, she could break something for good. Her palm met Yasha’s cheek, fingertips curling around a small braid hanging loosely.

“You said those flowers are pretty damn patient, right?” Beau said.

Yasha nodded almost imperceptibly, like she was afraid Beau’s hand would pull back.

“Then I think you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Still.”

“Well,” with much less confidence than she’d hoped for, Beau asked, “you gonna kiss me or what?”

Yasha’s eyes closed for a moment, her expression neutral save for the slight crease between her brows and the subtle part of her lips. When her eyes opened again, her gaze was angled down slightly, plotting a trajectory that Beau had hardly dared to dream of.

“You’re sure?” Yasha said softly.

Beau’s answer was no more than a breath of a laugh.

Yasha went on. “I just want to make sure that you are sure. I’m very sure, at this point, but that doesn’t mean that you have to be--”

Beau cut her off as gently as possible.

For a moment, Beau’s mind went blissfully blank.

Then it hit her. She was kissing Yasha.

It started soft - not tentative, but quiet.

And then, miracle of miracles, Yasha was kissing her back, and she was much less patient. She was lightning and thunder striking at once, a storm raw and deafening in its power. Beau wondered when her knees would give out under the sheer weight of it - until solid arms circled around her waist and pulled her in.

Desperate to hold onto something, Beau’s fingers wound into Yasha’s hair. Her other hand was trapped just below Yasha’s collarbone, grasping tighter until blunt nails scraped past a cloth edge and found skin.

Maybe Beau did have a favorite flower, after all.

***

[onthesandsofdreams]

The Courtship of Erestor

Pairing: Erestor/Ecthelion Rating: T Summary:  “I won’t make you wait any longer, darling Erestor.” Words: 3004

Read @ AO3

“Erestor, just because your mother gave you that name,” Idril gave his arm a friendly squeeze, a mock stern tone to her voice. “Doesn’t mean you’ll be alone forever. Have some faith.”

Erestor sighed, he and Idril had been friends since childhood, their mothers being friends had facilitated such thing. “And yet, I remain alone.”

“Perhaps you just haven’t met the one just yet.” Idril looked at him, a serious look to her face now. “Or maybe you have and you both are being stubborn and afraid.”

Erestor did his best not to wince, because Idril had unknowingly struck true. There was someone, someone he fancied – no, loved. Because he knew himself well enough to know that it was love. But he wasn’t quite ready to admit it out loud, at least he wasn’t ready to speak his name to Idril. He knew her enough to know that she’ll do her best and meddle. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that, because Idril could be quite persistent and, he knew that she would go out of her way to make sure that the object of his affections was around in oh-so convenient places wherever he would be. “No one has tried to court me either,” he pointed out.

Idril looked at him, with those bright blue eyes of her that almost seemed to see to his very soul. Then, after a few moments of silence, she smiled softly. “They are fools then. Fools for not seeing beyond that sharp tongue of yours. You’re smart and cunning, clever and resourceful, kind and compassionate, and you have one of the noblest hearts I know. You’re quite handsome too, so take heart dear Erestor, I know, that someone out there, will look at you and fall so completely in love, they will refuse to let you go. You won’t be alone forever.”

Idril’s words gave Erestor hope, and he knew that he was such a fortunate elf for having her as his friend. “If Princess Idril says so, then, it must be true,” he spoke solemnly. Then, softly, he said, “It would be nice not being alone anymore.”

Idril kissed his cheek, “You won’t be so for long, so my heart says.”

Erestor simply squeezed her hand, they were sitting under the shade of a tree in the Palace gardens for lunch, Idril had already asked a servant to prepared everything, choosing to drag Erestor outside herself, else, he would find an excuse and continue working.

So Erestor never did see the shadow that lurked, hidden behind a near fountain. Nor did he notice, the eyes that were glued to his face, nor did he hear the whisper that left the figure as Erestor and Idril continued their meal. “I won’t make you wait any longer, darling Erestor.”

*** Two days after his talk with Idril, Erestor found himself locked away in his office. The lunch bell had rung and he simply couldn’t leave, the pile of paperwork that laid in front of him demanded his undivided attention, so with a rueful gesture, he kept on working.

Erestor would’ve continued on undisturbed and ignored the hunger he felt, until there was a knock on his door. “Come,” he spoke softly, not even bothering to look up.

“My lord Erestor,” it was a woman’s voice. At that, Erestor looked up to see one of the kitchen maids carrying a basket. “I was asked to deliver this to you.”

“Who?” Erestor asked as he inspected the basket. Inside it, he found a small bottle of wine, a sandwich that was made of cold meat, soft cheese and spinach, alongside a bowl of wild berries. There was a note too, it simply read, ‘You work too hard’.

The maid shook her head, “I do not know milord, I was simply asked by Lothwen, she had it ready for you, said that it was a request. I know nothing more.”

Erestor nodded slowly, “My thanks than, dear lady. And give my thanks to our dear Lothwen.”

The maid bowed and left, leaving Erestor deep in thought. Lothwen, the head cook, was someone who took her duties very seriously, and while it would be possible that she would’ve set aside some food for him (as she had done so before), the fact that he had been told it was a request threw him off. He crossed Idril, Turgon and Penlod immediately, they would simply send for him or come to his office and made him join them at the dinner table.

In the end, Erestor shrugged and tucked in. The meat was tender, the bread had mustard and the cheese was one of his favorites. He swallowed down his food with the wine, thankful for that small thoughtful act.

***

Two days later, Erestor found something strange in his office. He had arrived on time, as it was his wont, only to find a box of chocolate truffles in his desk. He approached the box wearily, almost as if it were a snake that was poised to attack. Atop the box, there was a note, ‘Something sweet to start your day, enjoy Erestor’.

Erestor inspected the truffles and bit into one, they were made of dark, almost bitter chocolate – his favorite, his mind supplied – and were laced with fine brandy. He didn’t know what to make of it, instead, he finished the truffle he had been eating and putting the rest aside to take home, he began to work.

His mind however, didn’t stopped and it made Erestor realize that, whomever it had gifted the truffles, clearly knew that he favored both dark chocolate and brandy. He shook his head, he could ponder on the mystery later, right now, he had work to do.

Several days latter, Erestor arrived at his office to find a lovely flower bouquet. His heart raced, and he raised a shaky hand to brush against the flower petals. They were red roses. And he, ever the scholar and ever the closet romantic, knew what that meant: love. The red rose always meant that. He began to look for a note and he found it tied around the stems (which had been free of thorns):

‘Have some beautiful blossoms, to match your beauty’.

Erestor released the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Who would give him flowers? He took the bouquet and lifted them to his nose, he allowed the scent of the roses to wash over his senses. He couldn’t help but to smile. No matter what, those flowers had given him something: hope. Perhaps, there was someone out there for him.

But he wouldn’t lie to himself, Erestor was afraid that whomever did this, would change his or her mind and forget everything and leave him to deal with both disappointment and to nurse a broken heart. Still, he cherished the flowers.

***

Much to Erestor’s surprise, the gifts didn’t stop after the flowers. They simply varied, one day, he arrived to find a book of love poetry in his desk, clearly hand written and intended for him (or at least the dedication claimed), another was a journal, another came in a fine bottle of brandy, one memorable day, he was gifted a mithril ring that bore tiny opals, a case of his favorite sweet wine had been delivered to his home once. Foodstuff also came, during one memorable occasion, during a dinner he had been served strawberry ice cream, something that had been the envy of many. Gifts of books and other small little trinkets came too, and through it all, there was a note and on some days, a poem too.

Erestor cherished the poetry, it was clear that whomever it was that it had written it, was doing so from their hearts, for it was loving and kind, some, even spoke of him in such a way that made him flush with pleasure. He had never been so flattered as to when he read a poem by his admirer, he’d never received poetry that was inspired by him.

But Erestor did not have a clue as to whom it was sending him the gifts. He had tried speaking with Lothwen, as she could know who it was, but she had simply smiled and refused to say anything. Idril was another dead end, she had given him a look that clearly spoke about knowing who it was, but she simply smiled and said, “You’ll find soon enough dear Erestor.”

And so, Erestor simply wondered who it could be. He would often see an elf and wonder, ‘is this him? Is this her?’ and have no answer. The servants didn’t know either, some had claimed that the gifts that had arrived to his office, had simply arrived late at night by messenger and they had simply delivered them to him.

His brother was no help either, Penlod, had witnessed it most of it. And simply smiled upon him, placed a strong hand on his shoulder and said, “You, my darling brother are being courted. Enjoy it.”

And yes, Erestor was enjoying it. But he would enjoy it even more if he knew whom it was. What if it was someone he didn’t like? But he dismissed the idea, the poetry was enough to convince him of that. For the honest and eager beauty of them could not lie. Whomever it was, clearly knew him well enough and loved him.

Because the poems and dedications of the gifts, had started at some point being signed with ‘with all my love’. Love, the one thing he ached for and now, it seemed that it was so near his grasp. Now, he only wished his admirer would step forward and give him a name.

Oh there was someone Erestor dearly wanted it to be, he had been in love with Ecthelion, Lord of the Fountain for quite a while, but he had never mustered the courage to say so. Ecthelion shone brightly, he was such a respected elf and so sought after, that he was sadly aware that he – plain Erestor – would not have a chance with him. There wasn’t anything that Erestor didn’t like about Ecthelion, his kind and gentle heart, his fierceness as a warrior, that beautiful voice that was made to be raised in song, those deep gray-green eyes, those proud and noble features.

But now, Erestor wondered if he could let Ecthelion go and enjoy love with someone who clearly thought the world of him. Someone who claimed to love him, someone who was going out of their way to make sure Erestor knew it.

Perhaps he could.

*** Erestor’s next gift, came just in time for Idril’s begetting day celebration. The robes arrived as per usual, a messenger bearing it and a note, ‘Would you honor me by wearing it? I think you would look breathtaking. Someone who loves you.’

When Erestor opened the package, he found a ruby red robe with silver embroidery. It was a made with fine velvet and silk, and it was so unlike anything he usually wore. He tended to limit himself to black, dark green, burgundy and dark blue. Only on especial occasions did he wore the colors of his house. But this shade of red? It was very unlike him, but he appreciated the gesture.

“That is beautiful brother,” Penlod’s voice broke the silence in the room. “A new gift?”

“Yes,” he said and offered the robe for Penlod’s inspection. “I’m just… overwhelmed, I suppose.”

Penlod observed the robe, then set it aside carefully and went to his brother. “This is a very fine garment, it would suit you well. Your admirer clearly wants you in fine things.”

Erestor couldn’t help but to blush. “I just wish I knew who it was.”

“Is there someone you want it to be?” Penlod’s voice was soft and tender, as he watched as his brother stared at the gift.

“There is,” Erestor said just as softly. “But, it would not be right to get my hopes dashed.”

Penlod said nothing for a while, he knew that his brother had a tender heart, no matter what facade he gave the world, there was a loving and gentle heart that feared to be broken. “Then, I hope that your admirer is someone you may grow to love if you so wish it.”

“Thank you brother.”

***

Idril’s begetting day arrives swiftly and finds Erestor at a crossroads. He stares at the red robe his admirer sent and wonders if he should wear it. Penlod had ordered a new set in several shades of gray and silver. But in the end, he opts for the red ones. Wears black trousers and the silver tunic from Pelond’s set, dons the robes over it and takes a deep breath, finishes it with boots.

Perhaps his admirer will out themselves if they see him wear them. Erestor’s most desperate desire still leans towards Ecthelion, but his heart is open to the possibility of someone else. He sits in front of his vanity and braids his hair, sets some diamonds and rubies throughout it. When he was finally ready, he looked at himself in the mirror and, for one second, he almost didn’t recognized himself. The elf that stares back from his mirror is… quite the sight.

Erestor allows himself a tiny smile, his admirer had chosen well in the color and cut. It’s a bold look that he finds suits him well. He leaves his chamber before doubts can catch up with him and make him fake a headache.

He finds Penlod in the drawing room, glass of wine in his hand. His brother is dressed in deep gray and silver. Penlod takes one look at him and smiles over the brim of his glass. “You are quite the sight brother, are you ready?”

“Thank you brother,” Erestor tries to suppress the blush that comes, fails. “I am, let us be off, it wouldn’t do to be late.”

***

Idril’s begetting day feast was a lively one, Erestor found himself enjoying it. He was usually not one for loud parties, preferring far more intimate gatherings, but it could not be said that King Turgon did not know how to throw a feast.

Idril dragged him to dance on several occasions and, much to his surprise, Erestor found himself being on the receiving end of more requests. It was the robes, he decided, he wasn’t usually so bold in his dressing. He danced here and there, chatted with his fellow elves and found himself in lively discussion with Glorfindel about a new strain of roses he was trying to grow.

And much to his absolute delight and surprise, Ecthelion had complimented him on his robes. “They suit you well,” he’d said. They had shared a dance too, in which Erestor did his best to calm his nerves as he was swept to the dance floor at the arm of the Lord of the Fountain.

But the night went on, and there was no sign of his admirer. On impulse, Erestor made his way to the Palace garden, Turgon had several flowering plants that bloomed at night and the fragrance that they gave, alongside the crisp air and other greenery, calmed him down. He lost track of the time he spent near the roses, when a voice – one that he knew very well – broke the silence.

“I am glad to see that my gift suited you.”

Erestor froze. His mind was spinning, that sweet, melodic voice that he loved so much. Carefully, he turned. And Ecthelion stood some paces away from him. Dressed in silver brocade robes with accents in blue, circlet of his station upon his brow, hair braided with blue ribbons. His face was soft and tender, a small smile upon his face and his eyes, they were warm and – it took his breath away – full of love.

“It was you?” It was all Erestor managed to say. So much for being hailed as eloquent. But then again, diplomacy and such others hardly mattered (or prepared you) in matters of the heart.

“Yes.” Comes the soft reply. And before Erestor can ask more questions, Ecthelion recites one of the poems that are on the book he received, his voice is full of emotion as he does and Erestor find that his own vision blurs with unshed tears.

Erestor blinks the tears away, lets his heart soar with joy, the Valar it seem, have seen fit to grant him his greatest desire. “I love you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He extends a shaky hand, Ecthelion doesn’t hesitate and takes it. “I didn’t dare hope… I wanted to be you, but I was afraid.”

Ecthelion pulls him forward, gently wrapping his arms around him. “Well, it is me meleth. And I love you too.”

Erestor all but melt into Ecthelion’s strong arms, closes his eyes and allows his senses to fill with the clean and crisp scent that always clings to Ecthelion. He hugs him back. When he finally regains his bearings, he says, “What a way to sweep me off my feet, Lord of the Fountain.”

Ecthelion chuckles and kisses his hair. “My dearest, cleverest Erestor, your courtship is barely beginning.” Another kiss to his hair. “I am glad you wore the robes, one day soon, you’ll wear the colors of my house.”

Erestor gapes, then shakes his head with a smile, “Quite certain of that, Ecthelion?”

Ecthelion laughs, his laughter like music. “Just a very fervent hope my dear.” And he places his hands around Erestor’s face and places a gentle kiss upon his lips.

Erestor all but melts into the kiss, pulls Ecthelion back for another, the feast forgotten. Right now, all that it mattered was this moment, the joy he felt, the love returned and the promise of a future together.

What neither of them see, is a smiling Idril looking at them from one of the windows. She turns away, leaving the lovers to their romance, but she whispers. “About time.”

[the-starsabove-you]

The Stars Above You - Redo

Short Summary - Rose Miller lived up to her name, she had all those thorns to drive people away. But in reality, she was harmless. She was like petals that were plucked out but would always grow stronger from it. A story about friendship and romance, and life on the road with the Dallas Stars.

Pairings: Tyler Seguin/OFC/Jamie Benn

Chapter 1- Tonight is the Night

It was a dark and chilly night in the summer of Boston. Fits of laughter escaped a couple of girls as they made their way inside the bar. The bar was small but had lots of people, it was one of those classic bars with neon lights all over the walls, pictures on the walls. The lights were dimmed lowly and the music was blasting loudly that you could hardly hear anything.

Rose looked around in awe of the bar. The amount of people dancing on the floor, jumping and dancing along to the beat of the music. Her best friend, AJ linked arms with her best friend as she dragged her along

“Come on Rose! We got a busy night ahead of us. That was our last game, we’re free now!” AJ said as she dragged her friend to the bar, Rose chuckling and even their teammates were following behind, cheering and jumping around.

“AJ, We’re just on off-season.. It’s not like it’s the Stanley Cup. We were lucky to catch a flight into the states.” Rose said but the blonde looked back at her with a grin “You know I love it that we can finally have time off.” She said and Rose smiled at that.

AJ was always very excited and happy.. It always made her happy to see when her best friend was in high spirits. She loved bringing her teammates to bars and they loved partying the night away until the sun would rise.

“ A round of shots please for us!” One of their teammates, Amy, shouted over at the bartender who grinned and went to do the order. Rose played for The Calgary Infernos.. It was one of the newest teams in the CWHL and Rose was very excited to be one of their goaltenders for the league.

“Oh god, looks like we aren’t the only hockey players here too” AJ said as she saw a group of guys cheering and dancing along to the music, drinking and singing along. Amy looked over and scowled “How do you know they’re hockey players Babe?”

AJ observed them and looked back at her group of friends “I noticed some of them from Boston.. The Bruins. They won the cup about two years ago” She pointed out as she started naming each one, But Rose was busy trying to make sure the girls got their drinks and didn’t listen as much but Amy whistled “We got a fangirl over here”

AJ bit her lip and blushed “Not a fangirl, I just like watching the guys play. Their games are as interesting as ours” She said and Rose turned back to look at some of the guys and whistled “I would love to play against some of them, they would be a real challenge with their height”

AJ winked at her friend “Maybe you could be like Manon Rhéaume and be a goaltender in the NHL, that would be legendary status” She said and Rose smiled at that

“I wanna make an impact.. I want my career to be something cool.. I want to be able to inspire young girls to go out there and know they’re able to do anything they want” Rose said and AJ smiled softly at her friend and hugged her “And I’ll be there for you, the whole way” AJ said as the girls cheered “To the future!”

Rose chuckled as she took her shot but she stopped when she heard a voice behind her, someone pressing against her slightly as he shouted a bit over the loud music “Another one of my usual, Mike”

Rose didn’t turn around, but rather froze a bit as the bartender Mike, nodded and went to make the drink. The figure stepped away a bit but Rose knew the man was still around and Mike placed the drink in front of her and the stranger leaned over, pressing himself against her a bit and placed a ten dollar bill and he said “Keep the change!” He said and Mike chuckled and nodded “Enjoy, Ty”

Ty..

The figure finally was away and Rose let out a breath of relief and Amy narrowed her eyes “Some men don’t know personal space” She said and Mike looked over as he cleaned a couple of glasses “Ty is a good guy, young and stupid.. But he’s a good guy”

It clicked in AJ’s mind suddenly as she gasped suddenly, looking over “That weirdo who was invading personal space was Tyler Seguin! He plays for the Bruins”

Rose scowled “Tyler Seguin?” She said and AJ nodded “Second overall pick in his NHL draft. He’s a very good hockey player” She said and Rose turned back to look over at the man who was invading her space earlier and her mouth dropped a bit.

He was very cute, dark brown hair with tattoos. He was looking over at the black-hair girl with a smirk as a couple of other girls were trying to talk to him but he was clearly ignoring them. Rose was very curious about him. One of Tyler’s teammates said something to him and Tyler went to answer his friend but his eyes wouldn’t leave her.

Amy snorted and looked at her teammates “This is a crazy night and plus with all the hockey players here.. It’s gonna get more crazy soon. Can we get out of here?” She said and AJ nodded “Of course,  Rose.. You’re ready?”

Rose looked over from Tyler to her teammates and nodded “Yeah, let’s go..” She said getting up, she looked over at Tyler who frowned at first but smirked as he raised his drink up to her and she couldn’t help but smirk as she then raised her drink and then finished it and followed her teammates out so they could go bar jumping for the rest of the night. But she knew that Tyler was looking at her the whole time/

She knew she hadn’t seen the last of Tyler Seguin

[goggles-mcgee]

A Little Birdy Told Me

Based off the AU by @ozmav , and inspired by @particularlygeeky ! I love Lizzie okay and i love her fic Little Ladybird.

________________________

Summary

Marinette is dealing with knowing Adrien is Chat while on the school trip to Gotham, while also having to deal with more of Lila's lies. It wasn't enough to turn everyone against her she guessed, apparently Lila was set on making sure Marinette felt no happiness. But Marinette makes friends in Gotham, friends that are willing to throw down for her. Out of all things she could have guessed would happen on this trip, falling in love was not one of them. She also didn't expect to reveal her identity to the Batfamily, she also didn't expect to find out their identities either.

Meanwhile Adrien is trying to figure out how to make Marinette his finally, one way or another.

Notes:

I know what some of you are thinking, Goggles why the hell did you start another fic when you got so many going on????? My answer: I'm weak to a cute ship. I am very very weak.

I hope you guys enjoy!

__________________________

It was dark out already and everyone knew not to stay out at night in Gotham, even tourists, but here Marinette was walking aimlessly, trying to find the hotel her and her class were staying at. It didn’t help that her phone had died an hour ago after her following the directions displayed back to the hotel, she hadn’t noticed how low her battery had been so she had kept the app open, she was still hours away, if she had to guess. She knew this trip wouldn’t be great but she had held onto the hope that everyone would be preoccupied with the new place enough to leave her alone, but she had been wrong. Somehow Lila had convinced everyone to leave the hotel earlier than they had planned, of course the day Marinette is early is the day they ditch her at the hotel. She decided to try and catch up with them by taking a taxi but she underestimated just how slow and hectic traffic could be, by the time she got to Wayne Tower she was told that her class had already toured most of the tower but that they would be on one of the upper floors. So she raced up to where they were only to see them get into the elevator, then she ran all the way back downstairs as fast as she could, but at that point she had been so tired that she just couldn’t catch up. The sight of everyone getting in the bus filled Marinette with such relief, she could catch up to them, she yelled out to her teacher who was the last one to get on the bus but it seemed like she didn’t hear her and the bus was quick to take off.

 Marinette had just stood there watching the bus drive off in disbelief. She had shouted, her teacher had to have heard her, right? Then why did they leave her again? Especially in Gotham! The Class President had put a whole presentation together on Gotham, especially about the crime and the curfew that they should stick to considering they were tourists. That’s specifically why she pushed so hard to book a hotel near the Wayne Botanical Garden instead of the one near Crime Alley like Principal Damocles wanted them to stay at.

 Needless to say she was on edge as she walked, her feet were killing her and she had a migraine, she definitely didn’t think she could try and grab another cab when it had taken her so long to get one earlier. At least Tikki and Kaalki were with her, she wanted to just transform into Ladybug but what if someone saw? Ladybug couldn’t be seen in Gotham, not yet anyways, and she would have asked Kaalki to open a portal for her but she didn’t have anymore sugar cubes to give to the kwami. Eventually, everything just got too much and she stopped in the middle of the alley she had been taking as a short cut and sat down, she couldn’t stop the tears that ran down her face, nor could she hold back her sobs.

 She was…she was just so exhausted. With everything, with school, with Hawkmoth, with everyone basically, and she was fed up with not getting to cry, so she let herself do just that, just to get rid of all the pent up emotions that swirled dangerously inside her. Her heart ached, her throat was starting to feel sore from her sobbing, and her lungs begged for more air, but she didn’t care.

 “It’s coming from over here Pam-a-lamb!” A voice said from somewhere behind her in the alley, it had a slight accent but she couldn’t place it. That was beside the point, someone was approaching and she didn’t know I’d they were friend or for so she slowly pushed herself up and tried to stop crying but that didn’t really work, if anything it made it worse.

 “Are you okay, sweetheart?” Another voice said, this one was softer. Great there was two of them! She needed to say something anything, but her voice wouldn’t come out, she realized it was even hard to breathe. She couldn’t breathe! She needed to breath!

 “Hey, hey, hey! You’re okay doll, everything is okay. Can you breathe with me?” The first voice asked, Marinette looked up when she felt one of her hands grabbed, she flinched and tried to tug her hand away but the person had a good grip. They placed her hand on their chest and breathed slowly. In, and out. In, and out. She soon found herself copying the breathing, she finally got control of her tears and blinked the rest away so she could see things other than colorful blobs.

 “You’re doing great!” The woman who had placed her hand on her chest said, she finally got a good look at her, she was blonde from what she could see under the red and black jester-like hat, she had white face paint with a black and red mask over her eyes, pink blush stood out among the face paint. Her outfit seemed to follow the black and red theme with a collared shirt jumper over a leotard that went and disappeared into boots. Marinette could feel the leather of the gloves that held her hand. The other woman had vibrant red hair, her skin had a green hue to it, her clothes seemed to be coming from her, like she grew them. The top was white, it looked like it had veins, almost like flower petals, vines act as a belt while her pants seemed to be made of leaves.

 Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, she recognized them from her research on the city. She knew that they were rogues, sometimes antiheros, it really depended on the day of the week it seemed, with how they were acting she was hoping they were feeling more antihero.

 “What’s wrong sweetheart?” Ivy asked as she pet Marinette’s hair, the girl couldn’t help but lean into the gentle touch, sure she got a lot of physical affection from her parents, but they weren’t here and she soaked up whatever comfort she could get.

 “I-I…it’s just been a really long day.” Marinette stuttered out before she launched into a full explanation of the day she had been having, she did her best to not break out in tears again, she surprisingly was able to do that, she chalked it up to the fact that Harley was sitting by her and a had a hand around her shoulders while Ivy held her hand. As she explained she completely missed the two women exchange looks of rage at what they were hearing.

 “I’m sorry you had to go through that my pet,” Ivy said in a soft voice as she stood up and helped Marinette up, “would you like us to take you to the police station?”

 Marinette shook her head with wide eyes. She really didn’t need to give her classmates more fuel to add to add to their dumpster fire of secrets and ridicule of her. “I’m sure things will be better tomorrow, but uh, can you help me back to my hotel? My phone was giving me directions, but it died.”

 “Of course, Doll! Where you stayin’?” Harley asked as she and Ivy walked on either side of Marinette, Harley still had her arm around Marinette’s shoulder, but the girl really didn’t mind, she felt comfortable with them, which really surprised her, but she knew the two weren’t anything like Joker or any other villain, they were more like Luka when he became Silencer. That reminded her that she was supposed to call him and Kagami to tell them about her first day in Gotham.

 “At Gotham Grandeur.”

 “You would have been walking for hours! How could they do that, don’t they know how dangerous Gotham can be?” Seethed Ivy, orange lilies started to bloom in her hair and thorns seemed to protrude from her vine belt.

 “I covered that in my presentation on Gotham weeks before we left, I wanted to have all bases covered, I mean it is my responsibility of class president…but I guess my teacher forgot or something.” She lamented, the ‘or intentionally forgot,’ remained unspoken. “That’s just my luck really but I guess Lady Luck decided to grant me some luck today! Afterall I got to meet you guys!”

 The two rogues smiled down at her and she smiled back, more genuinely than she had in a long time. She smiled more when Ivy asked if she would be okay if they traveled with her vines on the rooftops, she claimed it would be much faster and she said it would be safer for Marinette. Really, she had no problem with it, especially when some of the vines held her carefully when they jumped over to another building, kind of like a seatbelt. The thought made her giggle. It took them awhile but eventually Marinette was back at the hotel, she could see some of her classmates hanging out in the lobby, making her freeze, she really didn’t have the energy to deal with them if they noticed her.

 Apparently, Ivy and her vines felt Marinette freeze up. “Are you okay sweetie?”

 “Um, well, my classmates are in the lobby, and well we don’t exactly get along. I just really don’t want them to see me.” Marinette explained in a hurry as she tried to hide herself behind Ivy and Harley when Adrien turned to look outside, she couldn’t see him so she hoped he couldn’t see her.

 “Do you remember which room is yours?” Harley asked, her voice was cheerful, but Marinette could hear the slight fakeness to it.

 “Room 7021. Mine has a balcony…” She said, she felt the vines grab her once more before they lifted her to the seventh floor, right at her balcony, which thankfully she didn’t lock the door to her room when she had stepped out to take a look at the city and the gardens they were near. “Thank you so much, for everything. Oh, wait here!”

 Marinette rushed into her room and opened up the box that she had wrapped in some clothes and took out two macarons. Her parents had sent her with an assortment of them that way she had something to remind her that they loved her. Also so she could have a taste of home while she was out in an unfamiliar place. She quickly made her way to the two women who were leaning against the rails of her balcony. They smiled when she came back and she easily returned their smiles as she handed each of them a lemon raspberry macaron.

 “As a thank you.”

 “Doll you didn’t have to!” Harley squealed out before she immediately stuffed the macaron in her mouth.

 Ivy chuckled and smiled fondly at her clown, “She’s right, but thanks all the same…uh?”

 “Oh my god, I didn’t tell you guys my name. I’m Marinette!”

 “Thank you Mari-gold, it was nice to meet you dear, we’ll leave you so you can rest.” Ivy said as she nudged Harley with her shoulder, Harley nodded before picking up Marinette in a big hug.

 “Hope to see you again, Doll!”

 “Me too!” Marinette giggled. She watched as they left, and for the first time in a long time she went to bed not feeling dread about tomorrow. She really hoped she got to see them again. Hopefully she would, but she was really excited for their tour tomorrow, they were going to be going back to Wayne Tower and she was excited to actually tour the place with no rush.

  ----------------------------

 Ivy and Harley took a break on a roof, still close to Marinette’s hotel. Ivy was barely holding in the urge to cover the whole hotel in her vines and letting them have a couple snacks, but she took deep breaths to quell the tempting thought. Harley was doing no better as she swung her mallet around to relieve some stress.

 “They left her to fend for herself, Red…That’s just, that’s just wrong!” Harley yelled out as she paced back and forth on the roof.

 “I know, Love, I’m not exactly happy about it either. She was such a sweetheart; I don’t see how they could forget about her like that.”

 “I think something is going on with her and that class of hers.” Harley grumbled out as she came to stand with Ivy at the edge of the building. “Every time she mentioned them, she would curl in on herself, like she was trying to make herself seem smaller. That’s not okay. And the way she described being left behind? Yeah that was a load of baloney.”

 “You think they left her on purpose?” Ivy asked, she really hoped Harley was wrong.

 “I think we might need to seek out the Bat just so he can be on the look out just in case they “forget” her again.” Harley said with a frown as she stared off in the direction of the hotel they had just come from. Ivy really didn’t want to have to talk to the Bat but arley was right, it would be the smartest thing to do for Mari-gold.

   ___________________________

Bugs Before Hugs @immagothamitetermite

#onlyingotham I swear I just saw Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy on some rooftops with a teenage girl, it could also be the Red bull and coffee taking effect though. #essayduetomorrow #killmemydudes #thatsnotaninvitationroguesisweartogod 

Next

[eagesoldartblog]

@nemesis-is-my-middle-name

Congrats you set me off time to RAMBLE about this fucking au Bc I adore it

So small Cw: this is heavily based /inspired by madoka Magica, also demons! Idk, just felt like y’all should know that real quick- also, this has.. a sadder end :,)

So let’s start off!

Lewis pepper died in the cave, but rose soon after. Not because of him wanting to stay, nor wanting revenge. Infact, if he was left alone, he would have maybe returned as a ghost or simply passed on. But no, he’s awoken a few days later by a red spirit that resembles a cat, with hearts and a blank smile. Their name is Dellila! It explains that as Lewis died, he made a wish- to live again, to survive. So they granted it!

But, everything is at a cost, and Lewis is aware of this, he’s terrified at the thought because he can’t remember his wish. But Dellila reassures him, and explains the process of wish making.

Because of his wish, he was granted magical powers, and he now has one task to fulfill in order to have his wish fully granted. In order for his life to be returned to him, and be allowed to walk to earth as a human again, he must make use of his new power...

And get revenge.

Lewis is horrified by this, because they explain clearly. He has to confront his killer, take his life in order to regain his. And immediately, Lewis makes a plan that he keeps to himself. He doesn’t want revenge, if he can, he wants to find Arthur and learn why. Surely there’s a reason..! It must have been an accident! ... Arthur wasnt lying this whole time... was he?

Dellila doesn’t give him time to think about it, instead, they make him get up and explain why they grant these wishes. While yes- it is to fulfill a certain wish- the world is full of evil spirits and malicious specters that harm humans and spread evil. Lewis’s job for now, is to deal with any spirit that comes close, and obliterate them.

They help him transform for the first time, and show him how he can utilize his abilities to their full extent. How to summon weapons, how to create a pocket dimension around him (referred to as a  labyrinth and FULL of symbolism just wait), and how to transform into his magical form. Lewis goes through with it-

And he discovers very quickly how painful it is. Having strands of gold silk wrap around his limbs and burst into roses and gold flecks. His hair begins to resemble a rose, he takes on a uniform that is beautiful and elegant. And Lewis can’t stop himself from crying while doing so. It hurts. It feels wrong. But it doesn’t stop, and he forms his first labrynth. It’s an oddly shamed dome of stained glass, filled and layered with rose bushes, piano keys, violin strings. Giant knives and spikes and pillars that you would find in a temple rather than in this surreal place. To make it all the more creepy, the dome itself seems to resemble a rib cage, with stage curtains draping from it, and in the very center? A golden chandelier that one could only assume is the heart.

Last but not least, Dellila helps him form his special anchor. Something that contains his soul, a link to keep him grounded and help him control his powers. Under no circumstances should it be destroyed, nor should any spirit touch it- lest the damage it takes on will be inflicted on him.

He gets used to it though, and he sets off on dealing with any spirit he comes across- fighting against the empathy he feels because he doesn’t believe that the spirits are truly evil. Most of them run from him, and the few who do fight only do so when he provoked them. But time and time again, Lewis attacks, he fights, he wins...

And Dellila eats the remnants of those spirits. Encouraging him to keep going. He’s cleansing the world with every fight.

They wouldn’t lie to you, Lewis, remember that.

But on the other hand, some others are noticing what’s happening. Mystery and Vivi - Vivi who is herself a powerful yokai, made of ice- recognize the labrynth, they see the magical spirit fighting, and they know what’s happened. The demon of the cave captured another.

Because you see- there wasn’t just one demon in the cave they explored, the two knew this, and the wanted Arthur and Lewis to stay away and let them handle it. But they were foolish and tagged along anyway.

Now Arthur has no arm, and Lewis is dead. The green demon, who takes the form of fog and crawls onto the recesses of your mind to torment and torture you until you give in. And the red demon, who claims lives by feeding hope to their collective victim.

This isn’t the first time that the two yokai dealt with them, no... Vivi’s old friend was named Dellila, and she knows just how twisted it is for the bastard to take her friends name.

Lewis is in danger, and they have to save him, but they have to do it alone. Arthur can’t come. They tell him. Vivi makes sure he knows.

But Arthur doesn’t want them going on their own, he wants to save Lewis too! :)

Meanwhile, Vivi and Mystery are hunting the labrynth down. It isn’t hard, since Lewis’s attacks are near brutal and dramtic, and it’s easy to infiltrate. Instead of facing Lewis head on though? They try to sneak past him, to find his anchor. To find whats linking him to Dellila.

And Arthur is following behind, getting lost in the labrynth, but pushing through the curtains and bushes and searching for his friends-

And Arthur, the unluckiest man in the world, finds Lewis. At first Lewis doesn’t even notice him, exhausted after battling a wraith, but when Arthur calls out, Lewis is shocked, relieved! And for a moment, Lewis smiles and tries to leap down from the heart of the labrynth to hug his friend-

But before he could even mutter Arthurs name. Something changes. The gold and purples suddenly shift. The rose bushes become thorns, the giant knives sticking high above the ground become spikes- stalagmites! Fire begins to grow, and he’s trapped in the arena. Lewis’s smile is gone. His eyes, a deep, unforgiving red.

Dellila never told him, but Lewis never had a choice in how he would confront his killer.

Arthur gets to watch as the labrynth shifts and turns all on him, as weapons appear in Lewis’s hand, drawn and aimed directly at him-

But before Lewis could try to strike- he’s stopped by the love of his life, and her dog. And a battle breaks out. Lewis exploding with fire and sending out deadbeat minions to wound and harm them, only for Vivi and mystery to deflect the attacks expertly.

Of course, Lewis is still powerful, and he can’t control the anger he feels as he tries to slash into Vivi- who is betraying him-!

Only for a sharp set of teeth to snap down on his anchor- and forcing Lewis to the ground. Mystery didn’t want to, but he has Lewis’s anchor tightly clenched in his jaw, and the resulting wounds cover Lewis entirely until he’s screaming and crying. It’s unbearable.

Meanwhile, Arthur can only watch. Watch as his friends tear themselves apart... watches as frost bites at the golden anchor and Lewis’s body freezes from shock- before his body seems to disintergrate into rose petals, and mystery lets him go. Sorrowful. Vivi and him have yet to noticed Arthur, but they know he’s there. That’s not what’s important right now-! They have to get the anchor with the dormant Lewis and leave-!

But sooner or later, Dellila has to come out. With smiles and hearts and a cheery, happy grin.

And their expression doesn’t change as they snatch the anchor before Vivi or msytery could stop them,

And they smash it. Swallowing the soul that seeps out. Thanking and condemning Arthur aloud for his contributions- his friend is now really gone! And it’s all his fault~

Now the question is, what happens from here?

Because when mystery and Vivi turn to grab Arthur and get out, Arthur has vanished. They don’t know where he is.

They can only fear the worst. And hope that those horrible demons don’t take on a new face

[ruddcatha]

GUARDIAN

The date is here!!!!!!!!

Thank you again to @heavenin--hell for your inspiration, I hope this story does your work justice.

posted on Ao3: Here

Posted on FFN: Here

Guardian has been Nominated for the Feudal Connection  2020 3rd Quarterly Inuyasha Fandom Awards!  Thank you to all the supporters of this story!!  Voting will begin on July 29 and run through August 12, 2020.

Nominated for: Best AU/AR

If you would like to be added to the tags please let me know!

@willowandfog​  @smmahamazing @clearwillow  @sticky-llama-perfection @alannada @shinidamachu @cstormsinukagblog @superpixie42 @nartista @neutronstarchild​ @i-dream-of-soup​ @hnnwnchstr  @fawn-eyed-girl​ @ all-my-cuffs-have-buttons

Chapter 11

The next morning Kagome opened her eyes with a frustrated groan.   She had been dreaming about Inuyasha and that kiss, her imagination working overtime to fill in what could have happened if Kikyo had not interrupted.  Kagome had never considered herself to be wanton; her only sexual partner before had been Jakotsu, her ex-boyfriend from college and the experience had made it clear they were better as friends… and had helped him realize he preferred men.

But in her dreams, Inuyasha had lifted her against him in the study hall, pinning her to the wall.  His claws had carefully sliced through her clothing, removing the barriers between them, the chance of discovery, of being seen adding to the thrill.  The feel of his powerful body moving against hers...

She had never wanted anything more in her life.  As she closed her eyes, she tried to capture the last snippets of the dream, the taste of his kisses, the feel of his fangs as they teased her neck, the strength of him between her legs as she…

She struggled to pull herself away from the thoughts.  If she kept that up, she had a feeling she would wind up jumping Inuyasha the moment she saw him.

She had been too dazed and aroused by just his kisses that her brain had not been able to function for a good twenty minutes. And she had been right, Kikyo wound up teasing her most of the night for the … scandalous… position she had found them in.  Over a glass of wine Kikyo had admitted she was slightly jealous of how heated the kiss had looked.  

Kagome, slightly tipsy from the wine, had leaned over to her cousin, conspiratorially telling her “It FELT hotter than it looked.”  As they had parted ways at the end of the evening Kikyo had a gleam in her eye, and Kagome almost felt bad for Kikyo’s husband Suikotsu, even though he would likely be thanking his lucky stars his wife had come home in such a state.   Kagome was both sad and relieved that she had not seen Inuyasha on her way back to her apartment, its possible their date would have started the night be…

…Shit… Kagome realized suddenly that they had never finalized any plans for the day.  She had just told him a vague “tomorrow.” She turned and buried her face in her pillow in frustration.  She was an idiot.  This gorgeous dog-eared god had asked her how he could ‘court’ her, which she found both adorable and sexy as hell, and she hadn’t even been able to string two words together or keep a coherent thought in her head.  Hell, for all she knew he could have changed his mind after that, it wouldn’t have been the first time that had happened to her.

With a sigh she finally dragged herself out of bed as the smell of coffee teased her senses.  She promised herself as she opened her bedroom door that after she had a cup (or two) of the lifesaving  liquid and the dose of caffeine it would provide that she would call Inuyasha to set a time to mee…

A steaming croissant, a fresh cup of coffee and a single white rose sat in a perfect place setting on the small dining room table she and Sango had in their apartment.  A small card attached to the rose caught her attention as she walked towards the table, stunned.  

“A beautiful bloom … compares to you.”  Her cheeks turned pink.  She sniffed slightly as she took her seat and drank the first sip of her coffee.  It was perfect, exactly the way she liked it.  As the caffeine hit her system, she recognized Sango’s influence in this, and the thought of Inuyasha going through so much effort for her… Kagome Higurashi… made the gesture feel that much sweeter.

Kagome savored her breakfast from Inuyasha with a smile on her face.  Whatever the day would hold, she was looking forward to it.  She gently lifted the rose off the table and noted with a slight smile that the thorns had been carefully removed.  The soft tea-like scent filled her senses as she brushed the rose against her cheek, letting her imagination replace the soft petals with Inuyasha’s fingers.  She stood to place the dishes in the dishwasher, gently cradling the rose closely to her as she entered her bedroom and placed it on her dresser.  She was curious and excited to see what he had planned for the rest of the day, but if that were the start, she knew she would enjoy every moment.

Thirty minutes later Kagome gave herself one last look in the mirror.  She had decided to put on a light makeup application of mascara and lip gloss, Inuyasha had seen her in the middle of combat training and was still interested in her, so she knew she did not have to put on her usual war paint to impress him.  She kept her outfit simple, a pair of jeans and her favorite fitted button down shirt, its long sleeves hiding the bruises she had from training and its bright red color helped her confidence and her favorite simple black flats.  Red always helped her feel more powerful, more in control, and lord knew she needed control around Inuyasha. That man just… did things to her, it both scared and excited her.

She left her bedroom, listening for the sounds of her roommate.  It was already 11 and Sango typically was awake and already back from the gym at 11 on Saturday morning, but she heard nothing from her friend’s room.  Kagome started towards Sango’s room to knock when the sight of another rose on the table caught her attention, she knew that it hadn’t been there before.

As she drew close to the table, she saw the note tied around the stem and quickly moved to read it. 

“A journey begins with a single step, and this is the start of ours.  The path begins at the meeting place, where the past meets the present.  Follow the path and take that step with me.” She read softly.  A puzzle, she loved puzzles.

“So where is he sending you?” The teasing sound of Sango’s voice caused Kagome to jump.

“What the hell Sango?” Kagome laughed.  “I didn’t hear you come out.”

“Too busy mooning over the rose?” Sango cooed, raising her eyebrows suggestively.  Kagome’s laughter faded as she caressed the petals of the rose.

“A little.  It’s sweet.” She shot a glance at her still giggling friend. “Although I can’t help but notice that he seemed to have recruited assistance.”

Sango shot her a wide grin, and that was all the response Kagome needed.

“Thank you.” She whispered to Sango, it touched her not only that Inuyasha was putting so much effort into planning the day, but that he had reached out to her best friend for help.  

“So…” Sango said with a singsong tone.  “Where is he sending you?”

Kagome pursed her lips as she looked at the note.  “Where the past meets the present… That could be any of the shrines around Tokyo, but I have the feeling he would want to keep it close to campus rather than running all around town.”

She shot a look at Sango.  “I don’t suppose you want to tell me?”

“OOOOHHH no no no no Miss Kagome.” Sango’s eyes sparkled as she watched her friend. “I am here to advise and assist, but half the fun of today will be figuring it out.  So… where does the past meet the present in a place that both you and Inuyasha are familiar with or go to a lot?”

Kagome thought for a moment before her eyes brightened. The archeology office with its underground training and apartments, where Inuyasha was staying. Where the past meets the present… of course! 

“See you Sango!” She called out as she darted out the door, the rose with the clue in hand.  

Sango chuckled at Kagome’s excitement; she was glad that the plan seemed to be going well.  She went back to her room to grab her phone; it was only a matter of time until she got a text from Kagome about the next clue.

Kagome hurried towards the Archeology building, her eyes darting around as she looked for the next clue, unsure of what to look for.  She hoped he had made it….

There, a white rose tucked into the corner next to the door!  

“The second step to start the day, the sip that brings you joy.  Let us share a cup and drink to us with your favorite mocha latte.”  

She smiled, this clue she didn’t need Sango’s help to work out, she had one coffee shop near the department where she had been purchasing her coffee during training.  This clue she knew wasn’t just based on Sango’s knowledge, as Sango had not gone with her for the coffee runs over the past two months.

It only took a few minutes for her to reach the coffee shop and enter it, her eyes darting around for a white rose.

“Oh, Kagome.” The barista called out to her.   Kagome was one of her favorite customers, and the entire shop had her order memorized.  

“I will have your medium mocha latte with whipped cream and extra chocolate sauce ready in just a moment.  We were told to expect you around 11:15, so it’s just being finished.”

“Oh, I’m not here for coffee… wait, Sara, did you say you were told to expect me?”

Sara laughed from behind the counter as she put the lid on Kagome’s coffee. 

“Yeah, a tall hunk of a man with silver hair and golden colored eyes came in this morning and placed an order for you, told us you would be coming around 11:15 for it, and asked that we also give you this.  Here you go.”

Sara handed Kagome her coffee and a white rose with a note attached before leaning over the counter towards Kagome.

“Hey, if things don’t work out with the hunk, can I have him?” She teased.  Kagome smiled as she took the first sip of her coffee.

“Nope.  I think I will try and keep this one.” She said with a wink. 

Sara laughed as she responded “Can’t blame you there.  Man is gorgeous and sweet.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she continued.

“And I have to say, he was so worried about getting your order right, he is really stuck on you girl.”

Kagome brought the three roses in her other hand up under her nose and sniffed with a slight smile.  Their scent blended with the chocolate and coffee, and the combination made her smile.

“I think I’m a little stuck on him too.” She confessed as her cheeks turned pink.  “Thanks Sara.” Kagome moved to an empty table and set her coffee down, anxious to see the next clue.

“To engage the mind is to enrich the soul.  A journey is a story, each step a new word.  How does our chapter begin?”

Kagome finished her coffee as she considered the clue, it was obvious that it was somewhere related to books or writing, which could mean three places, the library, the campus bookstore, or the writing center.  She immediately removed the writing center from consideration, as she had only been there once when she was in orientation, but she frequented the bookstore and the library often. They were on opposite sides of campus, or she would have checked both, but which one should she go to…

Kagome reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone and shot off a quick text message.

Ok oh wise one, how does our chapter begin, bookstore or library? -K.

Almost immediately she heard the ding of a response.

Didn’t I tell you I was here to advise and assist but not tell? 😉 -S.

 :-P -K.

Think about the last two months Kagome. -S.

It suddenly hit Kagome; Sango was right.  She was thinking about where she had frequented since she started the program, but there was only one of the two that she had been at during the last two months. 

Thanks girl. -K 

😉, -S.

Kagome darted out of the coffee shop and dashed towards the library; the three roses carefully held in her grasp to protect them as she moved.  She hoped that if he had left the clue outside someone hadn’t picked it up and moved it, but she didn’t see anything as she approached the library.   She cautiously entered the library, her eyes darting around for a sign of the clue.

“Ah Kagome!”

The campus librarian Kaede stood behind the circulation desk.  Kagome had spent quite a bit of time with Kaede during her time at the school, Kaede helping her with research and looking through the film archives for research, and saw the older woman as a friend if not a surrogate grandmother on campus.  

“Hi Kaede!  This may sound strange, but have you seen a white rose?”

Kaede raised an eyebrow at Kagome as she continued.

“I’m on a scavenger hunt and the clue, I hope, led me here, but I haven’t seen the next clue.”

Kaede clucked her tongue and reached under her counter and placed a white rose and a book on the counter.  Kagome drew nearer, drawing a breath as she saw a copy of 1000 Poems from the Manyoshu, a collection of ancient Japanese poems, sitting under the rose. 

“That silver haired gentleman you have come in with brought them in this morning and asked me to hold them for you.”  Kaede said smiling at the young girl in front of her.

“Ho… how did he know?” Kagome stared in shock at the book, she had always loved the ancient poetry, the beauty of the words written from AD 456-760, the history of the words, the emotion they evoked.  That was not something she had ever shared with Sango.  Kaede had a twinkle in her eye as she looked at Kagome.

“If I had a young man who went through that much effort to make a special day for me, I would be trying to get to him as quickly as I could.”

Kagome’s smile grew.  “I will see you later Kaede.”  She called over her shoulder as she turned and hurried out the door, tucking the poetry book under her arm as she looked at the card.

“There are two more steps on the path today.  Follow the journey to your favorite nook, the place you study and dream in the shade.”

She knew exactly where that was.  A bench under a tree near the library.  She had spent many an hour there reading or curled up with her laptop.  She moved towards it as quickly as she could, eager to see where he would lead her next.  As she approached, she saw the single white rose sitting on the middle of the bench.  

“One last stop along the path, a final step for you to take.  Along the rocks, amongst the trees, meet me where the lords still reign.”

 Sanshiro Pond.  Of course, it made perfect sense.  They had been sealed before the Lords manor had been built, but it was a bridge between their times.  She knew exactly where to meet him.

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

Inuyasha waited under a pavilion overlooking the lake, watching the time carefully on the phone that Miroku insisted he now carry.  He was starting to get worried; Sango had called him around 11 to say Kagome had started the journey, and it was now going on to 12.  Sango had assured him that Kagome would be able to understand all the clues, and that Kagome had always dreamed of a scavenger hunt date.  Miroku and Sango had stayed up with him until the early hours of the morning working on the cards and preparing the food.   He had appreciated the help, it felt good to have people he could honestly call his friends in this strange new time, people he could rely on in more than just a fight.

That didn’t make him any less nervous now.  His mind was running in a million different places, convincing himself that she hadn’t understood the clues, or she had decided it was too much of a hassle.  His ears lowered, maybe the book was overkill.  Miroku had run out with him to a store to buy the roses and Inuyasha had insisted that he also go to a place where he could purchase the book.  He had seen how drawn Kagome had been to it every time they went to the library; her fingers would always run over the copy in the stacks as they moved past it when doing research.  

He sighed, and his shoulders dropped.  She wasn’t coming.  She had…

The soft scent of vanilla and roses caught his attention on the breeze.

She was here.

He turned to see Kagome approaching him, five roses and the book of poetry in her hand.  His heart started to beat faster at the sight of her, and he felt his palms grow sweaty.   As she approached, he saw the smile on her face, the sparkle in her eye and the tension he felt melted away.  He hadn’t scared her away.   It was time to see if the rest of Sango’s advice would work as well.  He moved to take her hand, Sango’s voice in his head telling him to say something meaningful when he saw her, but the only thing he could think to say was…

“You look beautiful.” He breathed out, moving one hand to gently touch her cheek.  She leaned into his hand as she looked back at him as her cheeks tinged pink.

“Thank you.” Was her soft reply, her eyes never leaving his.  

Inuyasha had to forcibly move his gaze from hers and he found he had to clear his throat before taking her elbow and moving with her towards the stone seating and table.  He helped her sit before reaching down to bring out the food that he had cooked with Sango.  Sango had been a blessing, helping him make (and remake) items until they were perfect.  Miroku had been tasked with warming the food and bringing it to the pond so it would be ready for Kagome. 

He took a deep breath as he set out the two disposable bento boxes filled with rice, Tamagoyaki, Karaage and Onigiri and two bottles of water.  Kagome’s soft gasp of excitement helped to calm the remainder of his nerves.

“These look amazing Inuyasha!”

His cheeks turned pink with happiness as he looked away.

“Thanks… the…they took most of the night.”

“Inuyasha.” Kagome reached out to touch his face and turn it to look at her.  “You made these?

“Keh.  Sango did most of the work, I helped with the Tamagoyaki.” He admitted.  Kagome leaned over and brushed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you.” She said, nuzzling his cheek.

“Keh, you say that before you’ve tried it.”

 “I’m sure it will be delicious.”  His soft “Keh” was the only response as she opened the lid and took her first bite.  

“Inuyasha…” his ears lowered in concern “This is fantastic! Have you tried it?”

He opened his mouth to accept the piece of Tamagoyaki that she offered with her chopsticks, his ears perking at the taste.  It really was damn good.  He opened his bento and grabbed a piece of Karaage, offering it out to Kagome.   She quickly leaned over to take a bite, her hand flying to her mouth as a low groan escaped her at the taste.  

It was official, he owed Sango, big time.

After they finished and cleaned up lunch, Inuyasha asked Kagome if she wanted to walk with him around the pond and enjoy the view, offering to hold the book and roses for her.  She pulled one of the roses aside and handed him the rest of her precious items, watching as he folded them into his left hand to keep them safe for her.  She told him the history of the lake and its connection to the Edo period.  It was one of her favorite places on campus to walk, and she delighted in sharing it with him.  Every so often she would feel the soft brush of his right hand against her left, a fleeting touch before he quickly moved away.  She fought back a giggle, this was a quite different side of Inuyasha than she had seen yesterday, and each side she saw made her want to know more about him.  The next time she felt his fingers brush her hand she reached out and wrapped her fingers through his, capturing his hand in her smaller one, and she saw his cheeks turn pink as he moved his eyes to look at her with a small smile and a soft “Keh.”

Kagome led Inuyasha to a grassy area by the lake and pulled him down to sit next to her. They spent the next few hours alternating him listening to her voice as she read aloud from the book of poems he had given her, his head in her lap, her fingers gently brushing against the ears hidden by his glamor and talking about everything, her dreams and goals, what it was like growing up in this era, what it had been like growing up in the feudal ages. 

The day passed as they enjoyed being in each other’s company, learning more about the other and sharing soft touches, the brush of a hand against the other, tucking a stray lock of hair behind an ear, a gentle touch on the cheek as they talked.  Before either of them realized it, the sky had taken on the slight pink hue of sunset.  Inuyasha saw Kagome shiver slightly as a cool breeze blew off the lake, and he gently moved to move her close to his side, his arm around her shoulders to help keep her warm.  Her head lowered to rest against his shoulder, and with a soft sigh of pleasure he let his cheek rest against her hair.  They sat curled against each other as the sky deepened, pink giving way to deep oranges and brilliant blues.  

Inuyasha shifted his head to look at the beautiful woman beside him, his free hand rising to lift her face to his.  He leaned down, closing the distance between them as Kagome’s eyes closed and nuzzled his nose to hers.  When she giggled, he softly caught her lips with him in a sweet, chaste kiss.  He lifted his lips from hers, his ears not missing her slight sound of disappointment that gave way to a sigh as he kissed her forehead and wrapped both arms around her and lifted her onto his lap.  He pulled her back against his chest and rested his chin on her shoulder as they finished watching natures display of colors and saw the first stars twinkling in the sky. 

“I don’t want today to end.” Inuyasha whispered, gently kissing her cheek before he rested his head against hers.

“Me either.” Kagome whispered back, running her fingers across the arms holding close.  She felt Inuyasha move to bury his nose at the base of her neck, and a hum of pleasure escaped her lips.  It just felt… so right… So right to be sitting there with him, holding him.  It was if nothing else mattered, and they were alone in their own little world. 

He kissed her cheek again before shifting her in his lap.

“Let me walk you back to your apartment?” he asked as he nuzzled her nose again.  She responded by moving forward slightly to place another soft kiss on his lips.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

He helped her to stand, holding the book of poetry as she gathered the five roses close to her, and hand in hand they walked the campus back to her apartment.  When they reached the door, he offered her back her book with a slight bow, and her cheeks flushed as she held it to her chest.  Inuyasha reached up to stroke her cheek before picking up the end of a strand of hair and playing with it.

“So, what happens now?” Kagome said softly, her eyes fixed on his.

He smiled gently. “Now I hope to talk you into another, what did Sango call it? A Date.”  The smile she gave him rivaled the sun with its brilliance in his eyes.

“As if that were ever a question.”

His hand shifted to run through her hair, he was entranced by the feeling of her silken locks against his fingers. 

“Is there anything else I should know about dates and dating?” His tone was soft but serious, and she couldn’t help but melt at the tone.

“Just one thing.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her comment.  She stepped forward towards him until their bodies nearly touched.

“They end with a kiss.”  She rose onto her toes and placed her lips against his.  The hand in her hair tensed before cradling the back of her head as Inuyasha deepened the kiss, his other hand drawing her even closer to run his hand up and down her spine. 

There was the heat she had been craving.  She heard a soft … was that purring… from his chest as he held her against him.  He pulled back from the kiss; his eyes were almost completely dilated as he looked down at her.  Dazed chocolate eyes blinked back at him slowly, and he dove in for another kiss, another taste of her.  With a shuddering breath he broke away and touched his forehead to hers, fighting for breath.

“There is one more step on the path Kagome.” His voice was husky against her ear.  “The last card awaits upstairs.”

Kagome opened her eyes to see molten gold burning before her.  A half smile turned his lip as he leaned in to place a softer kiss against her lips.

“I will see you tomorrow Kagome.”  He whispered as he released her, moving to hold open the door to her building with a slight bow.  With a shuddering breath she slowly made her way to her apartment, her mind still clouded with desire.  ‘One more card’ he had said, what did he mean?

As she opened the door to her apartment, she saw it.  A green vase with 18 white roses was waiting for her on the dining room table.  The first rose she had received lay on the table in front of it with a new card attached to it.  She quickly moved to see what it said.

“One for every hour today that I have thought of you.” 

Her eyes went wide and started to tear up, with the six roses she held in her hand there were a total of 24 roses.  She placed the poetry book on her pillow before she added the six roses to the arrangement, her fingers tracing each bloom.  Kami, she had not expected anything like this from him.  Maybe that was the difference between ‘dating’ and ‘courting.’

She heard the door open behind her and turned to see Sango with a pizza box and a wide grin on her face.

“Girl time…” Sango announced as she set the pizza on the kitchen counter and turned back to Kagome.  “Sooooooooooooooooo, how was it?”

Kagome smiled as she looked at the flowers.

“Perfect.”

[jadekitty777]

Forget-Me-Not

Alright, and for my final entry for the Shipwreckedfanzine (Read it here!), is my Taiqrow entry. Because you better believe I gave my boys some love.

(P.S. This showed up nowhere in the tags - I actually posted up a new Taiqrow fic yesterday as well - I would suggest checking out some of my newest works on Ao3!)

Rating: K

Pairing: Qrow/Taiyang

Word Count: 2.1k

Ao3 Link: Forget-Me-Not

Summary:  Tai’s not surprised to discover Qrow’s forgotten their anniversary… again.

❀~❀~❀~❀~❀~❀~❀

Tai hummed a jolly little tune as he shook the can of whipped cream, doing his best to keep his hand steady as he pointed the nozzle down and drew a heart shape on top of the stack of pancakes. Once he’d completed the point, he set the can aside and picked up the bowl of strawberry sauce, filling the inside of the heart generously. Next came the chocolate chips – he was just placing the first few down when his twelve-year-old warned:

“Dad, Uncle Qrow’s coming!”

He nodded, trying not to hurry too much and ruin all his hard work. “Thank you, Yang.  Would you girls get him seated please?”

“I got it!” Ruby shouted a mite too shrilly for this time of the morning.

In the corner of his eye, he watched her grab the butter knife and napkin before going to stand at the threshold. She quickly laid the napkin out along her arm to mimic a towel only the poshest of restaurant waiters had and rose the knife under her nose, clearing her throat a few times. As her uncle made it to the door, she said as classily as possible, “Mr. Branwen, we’ve been expecting you.”

“Is that so?” Qrow’s voice was still a bit gravelly from sleep but it didn’t quite hide his confused amusement.

“Indeed. We have a special reserved spot just for you.” She twirled on her heels. “Follow me please!” She marched with purpose the three single steps it took to get to his chair, having to lower her fake mustache so she could pull it out for him.

He sat, eyeing the mug already there. “Wow, coffee’s already made? Now that’s some express service.”

“Sir, we only provide the best for our customers.” Ruby told him, knife mustache back in place. “Your meal is also on the way, made by our finest chef in the business.”

More like the only chef, Tai thought as he placed the finishing touches on the arrow he’d been designing. He surveyed his work with an appraising eye, before lifting the plate and carrying it over with care. “Your meal, sir.” He told him grandly, placing it down before him.

Qrow took one look at it, then his head shot up, eyes wide. “What occasion is it?”

He smiled as forgivingly as he could. “Anniversary.” Their third, in fact – which Qrow had systematically forgotten each year. Having grown up on the outskirts of nowhere, he’d always been terrible with dates. Before his husband could speak, the guilty look already telling him exactly what he was going to say, Tai placed two fingers on his lips. “No apologies. Just enjoy.”

He heaved a sigh through his nose, before kissing his fingertips and murmuring against them, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He replied, all too happy to trade his hand in for his lips – much to his daughters’ very verbal noises of disgust.

“Dad, please. I’d like to finish my breakfast.” Yang’s nose was wrinkled up like a little piglet’s.

Tai couldn’t help but pinch it as he walked on by. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, before turning her attention to the other adult in the room, looking almost gleefully predatory. “Soooo, Uncle Qrow.”

“Yeah firecracker?” Qrow had his cutlery poised in the air, uncertain on where to start.

“If you want to make it up to dad, I know the perfect gift you can get him.”

As he placed the dirty mixing bowl in the sink, Tai snorted softly. Oh, this oughta be good.

“Yeah?” His husband arched a skeptic eyebrow. “What’s that?”

She cleared her throat and straightened up her shoulders like a businesswoman about to give a rousing proposal. “Well, I heard, and this is just you know from the people in the know, you know? But I heard the Battle Expansion pack for Grimm Raider’s 2 hit the shelves this week.”

“Uh-huh.” Qrow was trying to keep a straight face. “And Tai would want that?”

“Yes!” Ruby jumped in with certainty. “Because what better gift for a dad than the joy on his children’s faces?”

In perfect sync, both girls placed their fingers on the ends of their mouths and pulled them upwards into big smiles.

Tai was full-blown laughing now. Little weasels!

“Been planning that one awhile now, haven’t you?” Qrow said, not fooled in the slightest.

Yang gasped in mock-offense, placing her hand to her chest. “Uncle are you accusing me of taking advantage of your forgetfulness for my own gain? Can you believe this Ruby?”

“But, didn’t we plan it?” She stage-whispered.

“Sssh, he’s not supposed to know that!”

Before this clown show could go on any further, Tai decided to interject, “Alright, alright, that’s enough you two.” He dropped the rest of the dishes in to be soaked before rounding back to the table. “You know what would bring me great joy today? You two finishing your breakfast and getting ready for school.” He reached out to messily ruffle their hair, enjoying their cries of annoyance and futile swats. “And anyways, you uncle gives me the greatest gift every day.”

“What’s that?” Ruby asked.

Tai met rusty red eyes across the table. “His love.”

Qrow flushed a rosy pink, looking away with a smile. It was adorable, the way simple little things like that could still make him so bashful.

Yang looked between them. “Well, you could have that and the battle expansion pack.”

“Nice try.”

The rest of breakfast went without preamble, Tai shooing the girls off to get ready while he took care of the dishes. It really could have been just like any other morning. The fact it wasn’t supposed to be lingered like a thorn in the back of his head that he did his best to ignore.

Another plate was placed on the counter, and he reached for it without thought, only to have his hand caught by a paler one. Fingers threaded through his own as Qrow’s arm came around his waist, his body melding against his side.

“Dinner? My treat?” He offered, gentle like the mouse that tried to pull the thorn from the lion’s paw.

Tai pressed their foreheads together, murmuring, “I’d like that.”

❀~❀~❀~❀~❀~❀~❀

Signal’s campus was pretty barren so early in the morning. While the faculty members were slowly making their way to their classrooms to get ready for the day, the halls wouldn’t be filled with the bustle and yells of the students for another half hour or so. Qrow had come to appreciate the quiet and calm, because he knew once the bell rang, it would be eight solid hours of chaos.

As they headed through the front doors, Yang sped ahead, waving as she did. “I’m heading to the training gym! Bye!”

“Ah, Yang-” Tai started to object, but she was already cutting around the corner. “Annnd there she goes.” His attention turned downward when his other daughter yanked at his wrist. “Yes Ruby?”

“Can I go to the library today?” She asked hopefully.

“You don’t want to help your old man set up?”

Qrow casually stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Ah, let her go. Kiddo’s got a big brain that needs feeding, ain’t that right?” He winked her way, making her giggle.

“Alright, go on then.” Tai nudged her forward. “And stay in the kids’ section, okay?”

“I will!” Ruby promised before scurrying off.

They headed in the opposite direction, towards their classrooms. Qrow side-eyed the man he’d had the pleasure of calling his husband for three years now. “So, where do you want to go tonight?”

“You even have to ask?” Tai teased.

“Well, maybe you were feeling creative for once.” He jabbed back, dodging away when the other tried to push him.

“Don’t make it sound like you don’t love Sarubia’s.”

Of course he did. While they’d both settled readily in Patch’s more remote, country-like society, and there was much Qrow especially hadn’t minded leaving behind, there were still occasions in which they missed Anima. So, Sarubia’s more eastern inspired menu was like a little taste of home for both of them.

“Guess I can’t argue.” He shrugged, their pace slowing as they approached Tai’s classroom. His heart rate started to pick up. “You know, it’s funny.  I was thinking about Anima just the other day.”

“Oh?” Tai’s keys jangled as he tried to unlock the door.

He rocked on his heels. “Yeah. I was thinking how nice it would be to bring a piece of it back home.”

“Heh, like what?” The door opened and Tai flipped on the lights. He took one step inside.

Then froze.

He swallowed down his nerves. “Perhaps, maybe, some Firelight Sunflowers?”

In the space between Tai’s body and where his arm was extended, hand not having left the doorknob yet, Qrow was proud to see the three sunflower saplings hadn’t wilted entirely overnight. Despite their droopiness, they were still thriving enough to see the curling, yellow petal tips that transitioned into a vibrant display of red that took up the majority of the bloom and gave them their name.

“Oh, Qrow.” Tai breathed. “You…” He trailed off, too overcome to find the words.

A relieved sigh left him as the tension Qrow’d felt the entire morning leading up to this moment flowed off of himself all at once. Between the knowledge that pretending to forget yet again could go horrendously wrong and the uncertainty whether the gift was even meaningful enough to warrant it, he’d barely been able to hold it together. Saying nothing of the weeks he’d spent nurturing the plants in secrecy or the bribery he had to give his nieces to ensure they’d be alone this morning.

Yet, any doubts he may have had were washed away by his husband’s response. The way Tai said his name was with such love, that Qrow felt it in his own heart and it burst back out of him in soft words: “Happy anniversary, sunshine.”

He finally moved, turning to face him. “I-I can’t believe - How did you find them?”

“That last mission I went on took me through lower Anima. I uh, may have detoured a bit.”

It hadn’t been any small challenge to find the specific species. They were an extremely rare variety which only grew in the southern meadows of Anima. He’d never actually seen them before, as the tribe never migrated that far down, but he knew they could be found only miles away from a little, obscure settlement known as Shén-Guāng. The community there was founded on extremely strict and religious practices, whose citizens’ bowed to the teachings of the God of Light and gripped so tightly onto every inch of its populace’s way of life, that even just hearing about it left Qrow feeling stir crazy.

The only reason he even knew of the little town at all was because when Tai was feeling particularly nostalgic, he’d sometimes share outlandish tales about his childhood. The one he never quite forgot was the story he’d told him during their second year at Beacon.

(“For my last test, Master Jinsei put a blindfold around my eyes. His semblance was the ability to tie an undoable knot – so there was no getting it off. He told me to use all the skills I had learned to go out and bring back a Firelight Sunflower.”

“A flower? You’re kidding right?”

“Don’t make it sound so easy. It was December. They weren’t even in bloom yet.”

“Oh, come off it. Now you really are making things up.”

“I’m not! The lesson isn’t just to find a flower blind. It’s about staying aware of your surroundings. Listening to the wildlife that will tell you of predators and Grimm. Having patience and fortitude through the winter. Most people give up a few days in.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Because only those who pass that test are allowed to leave the village. You know, they say sunflowers mean all sorts of things. Like happiness or loyalty. But to me, I’ve always seen them as a symbol of freedom. So, when I finally brought one back, that’s what I felt I held in my hand.”

“… Yeah. Okay. I get that. Still, why put yourself through all that? Why not just go out on your own?”

“Hah! Maybe I would have, if I knew someone like you back then.”

“Well, you know me now. Was it worth it?”

Tai’s smile-)

-was bright and warm, and left Qrow’s knees feeling weak. His hand was calloused from training and work in the garden, yet the touch remained tender as it cupped his cheek. As they lent in towards one another, Tai whispered against his lips, “I love you.”

“Me too.” He whispered back.

Their eyes slipped shut as they kissed, and as an arm encircled his waist, Qrow rose his own to wind around Tai’s shoulders, one hand leafing through the short blond hairs along the back of his head. For a moment, that’s all they were: A soft and gentle caress of lips contrasting the strength in the way they held each other, neither ever intending to let go.

Even when they pulled back, they didn’t fully loosen their grip. Tai dropped a smaller, affectionate peck on the tip of his nose. “Thank you.”

“Glad you like them.” He peered over his husband’s shoulder, seeing a petal falling onto the desk. “Though, sorry they look kinda pathetic. Don’t exactly have your green thumb.”

With unshakeable certainty, he replied, “No. They’re perfect. Like you.”

“Uh.” Qrow spared the dying flowers a judgmental eye. “You know, you’re not usually this bad at compliments.”

“Ut-! Haha, sorry, sorry. Not what I meant!” He could feel the rumble of Tai’s laughter where their chests still touched. “It’s just, do you know what love and flowers have in common?”

“…Lovers’ Day?”

Tai shook his head. “They both regrow.” He reached up, cupping his hand around the one Qrow had rested on his collar, brushing a thumb over his wedding ring. “And though it takes a lot of work, with the right nurturing and care, eventually something strong and beautiful will blossom.”

Shock left his eyes widening and his jaw slackening.

When he’d chosen to plant three of the sunflowers, it was only because it was the same number of years as their anniversary. Now though, the other third he was in Tai’s life danced briefly through his head. On his worst days, the ones where he felt his most insecure, it was a fact that tormented him like a plague left to fester in his mind and was only treatable with a heavy dose of reassurance and comfort from his husband. But today, Tai’s words acted like a vaccine, abolishing the thoughts before they even could be.

Instead, Qrow was content and so light, he swore he could fly without wings. But more than that, he felt like he was falling in love all over again.

He buried his face into Tai’s neck, hiding the smile that he just knew was ridiculously large and goofy. “You know what? You’re right. But I’ll do you one better. We’re perfect.”

Tai’s fingers threaded through his own. “Yeah. We really are.”