#Anyway I hope I have done the Flower Lady justice

[threewaysdivided]

Feyli's Fancy Florals

More Dan Jones & Dragons? More Dan Jones & Dragons.

Bringing the number up to four with Feyli, the Flower Crown's born-again Dhampir Druid and sole wielder of feminine wiles (played by the talented NicholeGoodnight), all dolled up for a night of lying her butt off, stealing from rich people and smuggling small woodland creatures into upper-class venues.

More Flower Crowns Gala Outfits: Morenthal | Gelnek | Hobson

Design talk and also some bonus art under the cut:

Gotta say, Feyli's outfit was definitely the most tricky out of the set so far. Nichole gave quite a specific description of the details in Feyli's dress (a blood-red gown with black roses around the top, black rose-vines trailing down the body and a dark lace cape) so a lot of it was figuring out how to translate those elements in a way that felt nice and balanced, then adding some complementary embellishments for fun. Each Flower Crown has been pushing me to learn more program tricks and Feyli certainly gave me some fun new challenges to figure out.

For the dress itself, I ended up going with an off-the-shoulder mermaid-skirt gown in attempt to find something that would look nice on Feyli's body-shape and show off the roses without utterly destroying the line mileage if I wanted to draw her in it again later. (Still ended up doing the skirt-embriodery by hand so task failed successfully).

Accessory-wise I thought it would be fun to crank the "roses" theme up to 11, since Feyli really leaned into that with her alias and cover stories, so I threw in some rose-embroidery finishing to the edges of her lace cape (shout out to ClipStudio users rainbowgrimart and 얀얀씨 for their ornate lace and jewellery brushes, which were an absolute lifesaver for the detailing) and also traded up her usual hair-wildflowers to match.

Whether Feyli canonically wore her antlers to the ball is a mystery, but since she can change those now and Nichole did mention her keeping the hair-flowers I thought it would be neat to give her a smaller but more formal set of sparkly silvered deer-horns to fit the dress-code. I also had some fun playing around with her hair and make-up since it was a black tie nobles event and I figured Lady Infiltration might go the extra mile to style herself for the evening. She's the only party member with long hair, I had to.

The jewellery was mostly just goofing. I really wanted to give her a version of Tante Padva's "slit throat" ruby choker necklace from Erin Morgenstern's The Night Circus since I felt like Feyli's backstory and Nichole's description of the dress would vibe with that aesthetic. For the rest, I figured silver would be a cute way to have her be matchy with Coil and contrasting to fellow-infiltrator Morenthal. Plus I thought it would be funny to give her a bunch of rings and loop-bangles since she's such an incorrigible fantasy-gachapon girlie.

Once I realised that Feyli had somehow managed to bring a bag with her rescue-rat companion, Soli, and recently-acquired copper dragonscale lizard through the cloak-room weapons check, I knew I had to find a way of including them as well. They're hard to see in the main drawing but I had so much fun with them that I decided to do a bonus sketch:

(Also feat. Pocket, the Party's new intrusive thoughts generator fairy friend.)

Double-bonus detail crop because I quite like how Feyli's expression-work and hair turned out:

[jyoongim]

You have so graciously written multiple of my asks 🫶🏻🫶🏻 thank you for doing them justice!!! 👁️👅👁️

I’m living for the alastor with cannibal reader!

What about the gang at the hotel sees alastor with a pretty new thing around his arm and she is just !!!!stunning!!! Like dark elegant (yet terrifying) grace. And everyone is like ????how did this old ass radio demon pull someone like you???

But they realize exactly why they fit so perfect when she kills someone (maybe defending the hotel) and just munches down on their corpse crazy style. Turning around, blood on their face, in their teeth with a wide smile like “I helped!!!” And then it clicks that she’s also a cannibal like him.

Everyone is all grossed out by it but Al thinks she has never looked prettier all covered in blood from her kill and meal. He even Wipes her face for her 😗😗😗

IM HAPPY THAT I HAVE DONE SO MANY OF YOUR REQUESTS AND YOU ENJOYED THEM!!!! I hope that i did this one justice.

Truly there was no way.

Their eyes HAD to be deceiving them.

Alastor had left the hotel to go on one of his outings but the gang was just too curious as to where the Overlord was going.

So like the mischievous nosy bunch they were; they followed him.

They followed him to a lovely restaurant and watched in shock as the waiter seated Alastor and the most beautiful demon they had ever seen.

Truly there was no way.

There was no way that ALASTOR was chatting up such a beautiful dame and NOT being creepy.

They watched from afar as Alastor pulled out a small box, presumingly a gift, and give you a genuine smile as you gawked and playfully glared at him before accepting it with a soft smile.

You were stunning!

 You must have died from an earlier time period as you were dressed in very modest attire.

A puffy white blouse tucked into a long black skirt, waist tapered by a corset to show off your curves. 

Your neck and ears wore pearls and your hair was curled and pinned up.

The epitome of grace and elegance. 

How the hell did that old fossil bag you???

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

”Oh Alastor! You didn’t have to!” You gasped as he presented a small gift box to you.

The red charmer demon smiled as you opened the box to see he had got you some customized jewelry.

The Radio Demon had been courting you for a while.

Sending you flowers and taking you out on several outings throughout the Pride Ring.

It took you a while to warm up to him, but he did have a way with persuasion Rosie told you he was a great guy and your bestie would never lie. Plus Alastor had been asking her about you

“Oh it was nothing my dear! A beautiful lady should have beautiful things. I thought it would compliment that new dress you got” Ah what a charmer.

As the two of you chatted and enjoyed each other's company, you had an eerie feeling you were being watched.

You shook off the feeling, it wasn’t too off putting as many people often staring as you accompanied the demon.

Besides, no one dared to approach the two of you anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alastor had asked you to come to the hotel so he could show you around.

He really only wanted you to meet the Princess, but the whole hotel was in attendance when Alastor opened the door to reveal you.

“No way Freaky Face bagged a broad like this?” Angel commented, causing Nifty giggled while the rest of the gang watched as Alastor showed you around.

All was going well…until there was a loud banging at the door.

rude much?

“Angel we know you’re here!” A voice shouted as the banging got louder.

You turned to see the tall spider start to shake a bit. 

You patted his arm and motioned him to take a seat and reassured him that all will be well.

Vaggie hissed as a window was knocked out.

”Oi come on out! Valentino wants to see you! We don’t mind using force whorebug!”

You felt your eye twitch.

the gang was trying to think of a way to get rid of them.

They were going to tear the hotel apart at this rate.

Charlie protested as you made your way to the lobby double doors and swung them open.

”Why hello gentlemen, is there a reason for such distasteful actions?” You smiled, but it was anything but friendly.

You took a step forward, a dark aura manifested around you as your eyes glows and teeth sharpened.

”Take her out boys! I’m sure the boss man would like a new toy!”

oh poor things.

You launched at the unexpected demon, sharp teeth at his neck and with a quick yank, his head was gone.

You heard horrified gasps as you moved to dispatch each disgusting creature.

”Ooh my dear you shouldn’t have” you heard Alastor say.

The gang had poked their heads out the front door and was shocked. There were dead bodies everywhere on the front lawn, bodies parts littering the ground. 

Angel and Vaggie gagged as they saw you, teeth deep,in a poor demon. You were shaking it like a dog would with a toy, until it flung out of your mouth, leaving your mouth bloody.

”OOH that’s sick so fucking sick!”

You grinned at Alastor, sharp teeth white a pale contrast to the bright blood smeared on your face .

You shyly tucked a strand of loose hair, standing to dust yourself off. “Ooh i do apologize Alastor. They were just being rude and ruining the exterior! Such disgusting things! They didn’t even deserve the grace to be eaten! How dare they try to-”

You were pulled from your murderous ramble by a soft cloth on your face. You blinked, eyes focusing on Alastor’s smiling face.

”Knew you would look good in red” 

You blushed as he wiped the blood from your chin.

”Oh stop it. You know red doesn’t suit me” you playfully hit his chest. He hummed, ignoring your comment as he cleaned your face.

”I think you look ravishing’ he purred as he licked your blood-stained cheek.

You giggled and held up a liver for him to bite.

In the background the gang was flabbergasted.

so that was HOW Alastor bagged a bad bitch?

shes a fucking cannibal…huh who would have knew?

Well you had to be some sort of freaky to be entertaining the Radio Demon.

[postmoderntongues]

Its hard when somebody very very close to you has done something unspeakable. There's grief. There's cherished memories and love that doesnt always just evaporate on the spot like you think it will. Even when you yourself are their victim sometimes part of you needs to keep the relationship going if only so you can segment a small fantasy world where your earth and entire sense of trust and reality wasn't shattered. I have a real good friend accused of some real heavy stuff atm and not the cool kind either the kind where if its true i hope somebody kills him and i haven't contacted him since finding out and will never look at him the same but i haven't blocked him and i wouldn't be unkind if he reached out to me because he was real with me when a lot of people weren't and showed me love and took me in and protected me in a lot of really bad situations i knew i was okay because the scariest person there loved me like only another CPTSD Cluster B can and hes done things that have completely changed HOW i saw him and there are certain boundaries ill always keep up to protect myself bc hes a bad guy but like honestly even if he does wind up getting locked up technically the Christian thing to do would be send him a letter or two a month and some good paperbacks like ive had friends and family who like got caught up in some BAD shit of all kinds my whole life I have guys whose weddings i was the flower girl in who are like i cannot stress this enough but literally what most people picture when they try to justify prison being substandard living situations and not just loss of free movement throughout the community and containment of people too dangerous to participate.

Especially when you are a trauma survivor, its tempting to process them facing justice as "their trauma" When you already know somebody had done a lot of really bad things and maybe some potentially soul-damning ones now and they've only ever been really good to you and even protected you from other people who would have committed damnable crimes of their own against you if he hadn't intervened its hard to just disown somebody no matter how bad the thing is you'd be surprised with where you think your line is compared to where it actually is if its there at all once real shit goes down with somebody you been through real shit with.

My evangelical-raised religious trauma/psychosis is telling me god is testing the strength of my belief in carrying out his commands in my personal life however i can and the strength of the capacity for love that I claim to possess. I don't think that's a feeling that secular people dont also experience in some way and just word differently as a trauma reaction to finding out somebody you loved and trusted did to somebody the worst thing that was ever done to you.

Tory deserves patience right now and space to heal and i hope she isn't bullied into making a statement before she is in a place to and has fully processed it but she deserves compassion and grace right now to cope and process this in her own time and we might not agree in political theory with every choice she makes under the intoxication of such intense grief from a political theory point of view but shes not a politician shes some lady who made really good art about her PTSD. You don't know until it is you and it feels different and the way you handle it is different every time. Sometimes psychological survival is more of a matter of coping adequately rather than responding correctly. Sometimes psychological survival looks selfish or includes a stage of denial or bargaining or misplaced anger/blame. Whatever Tory does, however she responds, give her grace. Immediate responses aren't permanent long term most of the time anyway.

Also people are already trying to bring Amanda Palmer down with him, she was a mentally ill woman in a marriage to a known abuser do you think she wasn't the one woman he didn't abuse when she was the one he had the most formal permission to? How many of even our own powerless zero-influence fathers managed that? Was she an accomplice/enabler or can we recognize that even among successful artists abused wives live in silence and terror. How many of our mothers lived like that? She wasn't Karla Homolka, she was a mentally ill woman who for all we know barely escaped without something horrible happening to her (if nothing horrible happened that we just dont know of which isnt impossible either). Fear can coerce somebody into silence about very big secrets, sometimes the worse the secret the scarier it is to think about doing anything but keeping it. Amanda Palmer is more than likely another of his victims, not some kind of art scene Myra Hindley.

god, the details in that new Nail Gaiman story are revolting. He is gross, he is a violent rapist, he is trash

trust me when I tell you that unless you have intensely morbid curiosity, you don't need to read it. It is stomach-churning in a very real way. But tbh I think he should probably drop dead.

I feel awful for his fans and the people in his life who thought he was a different kind of person. Tori Amos' recent interview on this made me so sad for her and others who felt like they knew someone only to realize they really, really didn't. I'm devastated for her who made neil her child's godparent,because no matter how close you think you are to someone and how well you think you know them and how long you've known them -- Billy Joel was spot on when he wrote "The Stranger" because EVERYONE has a Stranger that no one knows but themselves. You can never truly, truly know someone.

Amanda Palmer, though? Thoroughly unsurprised that she seemed to be at the very least complicit. She has always given off the most rancid of vibes.

[nulltune]

🌼🌸 anon here to make your day a bit sweeter !! you're an amazing person and i hope you've had an amazing start of the week. now, onto some nosy questions: where do you get your inspiration for your character(s) from? are there specific types of medias that have influenced the way you write or maybe even specific writers (maybe even from the rpc)? anyways, i hope your week continues to be sweet and amazing because the best of the best is what you deserve, dear friend !!

🥺🥺 YOU HAVE INDEED MADE MY DAYS (cuz i sure took my sweet time answerin this 😳����) A LOT BETTER AND A LOT SWEETER ANONN <333 (flower nonnie?? 🌼🌸 nonnie??) aaa i hope u had a great day too!!!! here's to an amazing week for da both of us !! 🥳 I FRIKKIN LOVE QUESTIONS BTW THEY'RE NOT NOSY AT ALL!!!! talking abt hakuno is my hobby y'know 😌

for inspiration, ohhh boy there is a Lot. this moon lady just lives in my mind rent free always!!! ngl tho i feel like my biggest inspo would be .... the little details about her from canon that i just think could've been soooo interesting if they explored it more! don't get me wrong i love how she is in canon (i fell in love with her after all 🥺🥺) but post-extra content is just big ehh to me and i feel like could've done so much more with her but didn't ^_T so i wanna do hakuno moar justice!! 😤 but also the way i wanna write her <3 which is why i really cherrypick a lot of stuff from canon tho i do inspo from it ! hakuno inspo is around every corner but just to list a few- the little mermaid story in general, anything related to artificial intelligence learning emotions / how to love, the nightingale and the rose by oscar wilde, a Lot of mili songs (bathtub mermaid, string theocracy, a turtle's heart, world.execute(me);, nine point eight, etc.), some characters from other media too, iT'S A LONG LIST!!

ohh nonnie my writing style is a mess 😭 /lh i don't know if i can name anything but as i said, hakuno is in da mind 24/7 so if i read or watch something and it gives me some hakuno muse, i keep a lil note of it or just keep it somehow! for example, i read the travelling cat chronicles recently (SO GOOD BTW YOU SHOULD READ IT 😭😭👍❤️❤️) and i read it on my phone so i screencapped every hakunocore parts hehe. like this lil bit! (btw yes i think this stray cat has some very hakunocore qualities. What Of It!)

if i like the way something was written, i simply go 😳📸. that's basically it tbh!! the rpc is a huge inspo to me too thoo!! hakuno's my fav character ever and rping is basically hakuno meeting all sorts of fun muses and characters. how could i not love that!!! i usually read asks that get posted on da dash cuz they're like a nice lil treat 💖 threads require more context and i am simply too slow and late for that </3 i always enjoy seeing my mutuals post tho!!! and i will expose myself here and say that i sometimes stalk dem blogs a little bc i want to read Moar ok........ *insert that one gif of the cursed emoji reaching out of the screen*

AND THANK YOU, DEAR NONNIE!!! i am very excited for da weekend my fav ever 🥳🥳 i hope u have a super great week too!! 💞💞 treat yourself to something nice why doncha! i slide a virtual dollar bill to u -winks-

[monotonous-minutia]

So I weirdly actually did a thing I said I was going to do.

Here’s a handy dandy list of Nozze productions to avoid if you, like me, love Cherubino, and believe he is a precious sunflower that needs to be protected at all costs.

After watching about 20 productions of this opera (though not all of them in full) I have compiled the following list.

Truncated because it got pretty long:

*Some of what is written here is subjective so I apologize if I end up disparaging a production you’ve seen and enjoyed. But I tried to stay objective and focus on the specific details that made the production safe or not for Cherubino.

**If you’re morbidly curious and want to know what, exactly, goes on in the first two listed here, perhaps message me first to ask before seeking them out to see for yourself, to prepare.

Salzburg 2006

Do not watch this one.

It’s weird, disturbing, and borderline sadistic. I can appreciate odd productions if they look at operas in new ways, try a different take, or magnify certain elements to bring in a fresh perspective. This production does none of that. It’s just weirdly disturbing for no apparent or forgivable reasons. I’ve spent a decent amount of time searching for answers on this one but none of the critiques I’ve found have any clue what this is supposed to be, so whatever the director was trying to say, their attempts failed miserably and left an atrocity in their wake. EVERYONE in this damn thing (except Cherubino) is a freaking asshole, the set is minimalist to the point of being irrelevant and confusing, and there’s this weird, winged Cherubino look-alike going around controlling people like puppets and making them do weird dance moves during their numbers. Obviously this director did not know how to embrace the concept that some people can just stand still while they’re talking or singing. Also, people hardly ever make eye contact and it’s unnerving, like they’re all zombies. There are a lot of other small, weird details that just keep building to make this thing a terrible production overall. The worst thing about it is poor sweet Cherubino. He’s an innocent, delicate flower that’s abused by everyone in unbearable ways. I don’t even want to go into it. I beseech you not to watch this because it’s honestly kind of traumatizing. Just pretend this one doesn’t exist and you’ll be okay. 

Redeeming factors: absolutely none. Cherubino is adorable and too pure for this world but that just makes the whole thing ten times worse because of all the terrible, terrible things that happen to him.

Dutch National Opera 2016

Proceed with caution for this one. It’s a shame because the production itself is pretty decent, and Susanna and the Contessa are great. The set is interesting—versatile, rotating, lots of doors that are utilized in interesting ways. It’s mostly portraying the somewhat-empty house that the cast is moving into it (at least that’s what I gathered). Reasons to avoid: Figaro is an asshole, the Count is downright gross, and Cherubino is treated terribly by almost everyone (except the Contessa and Susanna, bless them). The only part I like is the Act 2 scene between the three of them where they are all very sweet to each other and Cherubino is delighted to dress up and the kindness he’s shown here by the ladies makes up for some of the other things that happen. The worst stuff I won’t get into; I can’t talk about it without getting super upset. In general, Cherubino is terrorized by the Count on multiple occasions (physically threatened, punched, and thrown around), Figaro is super mean to him, and he doesn’t really get any closure at the end except that Barbarina dotes on him and he clearly loves her so we can imagine that he’ll be okay. It is a joy to watch him being super awkward, dreamy, and cheeky; I just wish he’d been given a better production.

My recommendation for this one, if you do want to watch it, is skip “Non piu andrai” and go right to Act II, although there’s one aspect that’s hard to explain without seeing that. For now let’s just say: there’s a reason Cherubino is wearing a beanie at the top of the second act, and it’s Figaro’s fault. You don’t need to know what else happens. (My rec: skip forward like ten minutes after the last recit, then seek backwards until you see Susanna sitting on a crate holding a remote which is the start of Act II. That way you don’t have to see the scene even in fast-motion.) At any rate please don’t watch that scene. I want to find the person who staged it and punch them. The rest is bearable; just be warned, it’s not fun or pretty.

Honesty hour: Figaro is mean enough too that I want Susanna and Rosina to run off together and just marry each other because their chemistry here is amazing. And take Cherubino with them and keep him safe and loved forever.

Redeeming factors: Interesting set, great leading ladies, insanely adorable Cherubino, and also it’s insinuated that the Contessa actually leaves Almaviva at the end; she even threatens him with his own hunting rifle and everyone else just watches in morbid fascination. She does put the gun down at the last second, but she doesn’t go to him after, so maybe he gets kicked out. We can only hope.

Salzburg 2015

Tbh this one’s just weird and probably not worth your time anyway. The set looks like the wall of the house was cut off so we can see all the rooms inside, upstairs and downstairs, at the same time. It’s an interesting device showing how all of the scenes interact, but it’s no utilized very well. There’s so much business in multiple rooms at one time that it’s hard to focus on the people who are talking and singing at the moment. The cast is mediocre. We get Pisaroni as the Count which should have been worthwhile but isn’t because of the weirdness of the production. It’s honestly hard to tell what or who anyone is supposed to be here. Plus there’s blatant abuse from the Count to the Contessa and it’s hard to watch especially because I’m more used to a huggable Luca and this doesn’t do him justice imo. Additionally, I typically stan gay Basilio, but here he’s got a thing for Cherubino, and Cherubino is super not into it so it just comes across as gross. Mostly Cherubino is just pushed to the sidelines (the Count literally locks him into the closet for most of the end of the first act). So it really minimizes his character in general and is disappointing to Cherubino fans.

Redeeming factors: Susanna is really cute, Figaro is nice, “Non piu andrai” is not sadistic, but this is mostly because everyone leaves the room when he starts singing it so he’s just talking to himself which is weird anyway. At least there is nothing Unspeakable although I do wish I could wipe this Basilio out of my brain. Also Margarita Gritskova as Cherubino being dapper and sweet and I’d say Pisaroni but I’m not a fan of him being the mean old Count when he should be playing those sweet Rossini baritone roles.

Salzburg 1995

Susan Graham is Cherubino and she’s super adorable, although she’s taller than almost everyone else which is awkward and amusing. However everyone is VERY mean to Cherubino. Even Susanna. He gets thrown around a lot which is just sad to watch. The production overall is kind of unremarkable and the picture/sound quality isn’t great either. Watchable but just be prepared for an annoying amount of meanness from characters who should be a lot nicer.

Redeeming factors: Susan Graham is amazing and adorable. That’s pretty much it. Someone tell me what is up with Salzburg and this opera, seriously.

Royal Opera House 2006

This Cherubino is a precious duckling who gets thrown around by everyone, especially Figaro, which is super sad. Honestly so many of these are ruining the character of Figaro for me. This one is watchable and decent except for Mean Figaro. The set is elaborate and detailed but sometimes the background action with the supers gets distracting. The rest of the cast is alright but I wish they would be nicer to Cherubino who hasn’t done one single thing to warrant the abuse. I recommend avoiding it for those reasons but it’s not as bad as some of the others.

Redeeming factors: Intricate, pretty set, Dorothea Röschmann being an adorable Contessa, and Cherubino being gawky and cute.

To balance out the depressingness here are some Nozzes that I highly recommend!

Garsington 2017

My absolute favorite, a pure delight. Though there are no big names here, the entire cast is amazing. The set is glorious, detailed without being distracting, super versatile to fit all the scenes, and the final act is actually in a garden and it’s just so PRETTY. The chemistry between Figaro and Susanna is lovely; they obviously adore each other and are a great team throughout all their plots. The Count is reasonably dislikable without being detestable, so the apology at the end is actually kind of believable (though it’s hard to pull off in general). He and the Contessa actually have an interesting dynamic so you can kind of see how they might make things work in the end (some of their arguments are more banter-y than mean and they actually make out briefly in “Susanna, or via, sortite” as if they’re kind of turned on by each other’s fury). The supporting cast is great too, full of personality and mischief. The staging is lighthearted, genuine, and intricate. THIS is what a Nozze should be! Cherubino is adorable, cheeky, super loveable, a SHAMELESS flirt, and best of all everyone loves him (except the Count obviously). Figaro is really nice to him too and “Non piu andrai” is really cute because he and Susanna are teasing him the entire time but it NEVER gets mean and it’s honestly so refreshing. Highly recommend this one!

Met 1998

Featuring my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE CHERUBINO, the incomparable Susanne Mentzer, as well as my favorite Contessa ever, Renèe Fleming. I could talk about those two forever. They are both individually fantastic and their collaboration is amazing. I died, to be honest. Also features an amazing Susanna courtesy of Cecilia Bartoli and a simply adorable Danielle de Niesse as Barbarina. Figaro is pretty mean to Cherubino especially during “Non piu andrai” (seriously what is it with directors and this number) but it’s nothing compared to so many others so it’s watchable especially because Mentzer is fantastic and she steals the entire scene without even saying anything because she’s amazing. Her Cherubino is just the sweetest, sassiest, most adorable, energetic, and expressive Cherubino ever to bless the operatic stage. She’s exactly what Cherubino should be in every way and the production fully supports it. Watching the entire Cherubino-Susanna-Contessa scene in Act 2 is one of my favorite things in the world. The production itself is classic, detailed and true to the period, busy without being distracting, and the rest of the cast is good too.

Liege 2018

A very cute production featuring a super sweet Figaro who teases Cherubino but is not mean to him. Cherubino is sassy and endearing and very much the flirt with every lady in sight, and is pretty popular among them. The rest of the cast is good too and we get a particularly sassy Susanna (whose chemistry with the Contessa is lovely). The set is simple but very pretty. Another lighthearted, sweet, and genuine portrayal that stays true to the heart of this opera.

Glyndebourne 1973

A classic; lots of familiar names, lush period set/costumes, and staging that’s simple but effective. Featuring the insanely adorable Frederica von Stade as Cherubino. Her smile melts my heart every time. A mostly nice Figaro and great leading ladies.

Obviously there are way more productions out there, and I’ve watched more than this, but these are the ones that to me are most noteworthy from one end of the scale or the other.

This list may get longer as I watch more, but I think I’m going to take a break from Nozze for a little bit (or more likely just re-watch the Garsington one and Mentzer’s Cherubino over and over again).

[vannahfanfics]

Weddings and Wisteria Trees

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Fumikage Tokoyami, Ibara Shiozaki

Additional Tags: Feudal Japan AU

Hey, everyone! Here again with a story for @bnhabookclub​‘s Bingo Event, for the prompt “Forced to Get Married.” This is my first time writing an arranged marriage story, so I hope it’s to y’all’s liking! :)

Ibara stared blankly into the curved surface as the mirror as one of her attending ladies brushed her long, trailing strands of summer green hair. The rhythmic, gentle tugging against the roots of her hair would typically be soothing, but on this day of all days, Ibara could not find joy even in the simplest of things. Not even the gentle rustling of the emerald leaves against her window or the sweet scent of the sweet pea perfume that one of the other servants spritzed against her wrists, ankles, and collarbone could bring a smile to Ibara’s face. No, today, Ibara was to marry a man that she had never met.

“My Lady, you look a little pale this morning,” the woman who’d been brushing her hair tutted as she tipped Ibara’s chin up with a few fingers. With the same stony expression, the bride-to-be turned her face to look down at her legs, which were flush with the rose of life as compared to the pure white silk of her slip. “Have you taken ill?”

“No, I am not ill,” she answered quietly. While it would be an excellent excuse to avoid meeting her suitor, it just wouldn’t do. As the daughter of a wealthy merchant and artisan family, Ibara’s sole responsibility was to wed an established man. She had no choice but to fulfill this role, lest she bring great shame upon her family and their name. Regardless of my feelings about it, I must perform this duty. Father and Mother’s business would be ruined if I refused the hand of this man. Ibara would be given several hours before the ceremony to acclimate to her soon-to-be husband. She was grateful at least for that small window of time; she couldn’t imagine walking into the anteroom to wed a complete and total stranger. All she knew about him was that he hailed from a distinguished samurai family.

Her servants knew better than to gossip with Ibara about her impending marriage, so they busied themselves with preparing Ibara’s clothes. She would not don the pristine white bridal kimono until right before the ceremony, but the garment she would wear to the pre-wedding meeting was arguably more stunning. Ibara stood and raised her arms perpendicular to her body so that her servants could slip a kimono of dark green fabric over her figure. White stitching outlined large, fan-like leaves across the material, and the plants were filled in with jade cloth the same shade as Ibara’s magnificent hair.

Her parents said that Ibara was born with green hair because her mother had prayed to the local forest god for fertility; the deity had blessed her, and colored Ibara’s hair as a reminder of its divine blessings. The long, luscious locks marked Ibara’s most striking feature, and its novelty had attracted attention from many notable suitors across the continent. Luckily, Ibara’s parents were gracious enough to choose a groom who was close in age to her. Ibara didn’t know how she would cope with marrying someone twenty years her senior.

“You look radiant, My Lady,” one of her attendants hummed as she straightened the hem of Ibara’s kimono. The royal girl blinked slowly at her reflection in the mirror. Under normal circumstances, Ibara would most certainly agree; the green hues of the fabric accented her emerald eyes and vine-green locks, while her skin provided suitable contrast to the earthy tones.

As Ibara stared at herself in the mirror, the ladies threaded a hairpin wrought from thin gold wire into her hair; a clothed peony bejeweled with topazes and jasper stones adorned the accessory, and light, wispy gold ribbons trailed down from the piece. A servant skillfully wound it through a braided section of her hair to create a regal and tasteful hairstyle. Yes, under normal circumstances, Ibara would find herself quite gorgeous indeed. However, that cold pit of dread and trepidation swallowed any and every positive emotion. The ball of darkness was like a wicked weed, smothering all other flowers of feeling with cold indifference.

Ibara forced a smile on her face as the sliding door to her bedroom opened, and her parents walked in.

“Oh, my dear, you look stunning,” her mother crooned as she approached the eighteen-year-old girl. Ibara politely closed her eyes when her mother leaned in to kiss her lovingly on the cheek. Her parent flashed her a bright smile through the silvery reflection of the mirror. Ibara’s own smile was strained and false. Either her mother didn’t notice, or she ignored it. Ibara’s father moseyed over to grasp her by the upper arms and lean over her shoulders.

“Are you ready, darling?”

“Of course, Father,” Ibara responded smoothly. The lie rolled off her tongue like syrup- with practiced ease. “I am more than ready to do my duty to the family. This marriage will be prosperous for us.” The wealthy merchant smiled widely and patted her shoulders approvingly. Now that the preparations were complete, they swiftly bundled Ibara into a carriage. The wagon featured the height of comfort- minx fur comforters, feather-stuffed pillows, and silk curtains- but Ibara fidgeted endlessly amongst the luxurious items. Nausea spun her belly around, and the jostling of the carriage on the uneven dirt path worsened it. Ibara pushed her head out of the window, hoping the cold air would settle her sickness. It calmed somewhat, but her throat remained tight with unease, making every breath harsh and laborious.

The Tokoyami estate resided in a nearby valley, which belonged to a rich daimyo who made his fortune by maintaining and operating large commercial farms. According to her parents, the Tokoyami family was one of the samurai clans that managed the sprawling collection of farmsteads. The local farmers spoke highly of both the daimyo and the small assortment of samurai that maintained the peace and order. Hence, it relieved Ibara that she wouldn’t be immigrating to a lawless, turbulent region- if the rumors proved right, anyway. The estate was a mere two-hour journey by horse-drawn cart.

Not a long voyage by any means, but it was the longest two hours of Ibara’s life.

Ibara gulped down several breaths of air when the carriage driver opened the door. Though she’d possessed access to the window, it seemed like the air beyond the cart was fresher and crisper. It flooded her lungs with an uplifting cold- only for a few moments. When Ibara’s slippers met the bright green grass, the reality of her situation slammed back down upon her shoulders. Phantom aches of the burden she bore made her back muscles burn and throb. She hardly registered taking her father’s arm and walking down the cobblestone path leading to the mansion. Ibara’s main priority at this point was breathing.

Her lungs seemed none too keen on inflating and providing her body with oxygen. Focusing on breathing appeared to further their disobedience, so instead, she attempted to focus on her surroundings. Shady wisteria trees lined the neat stone pathway; their wispy fronds curled over the lane to create a tunnel-like atmosphere. The feather-like branches ruffled in the breeze, mirroring Ibara’s waves of green hair, which rippled like green water as the wind played the strands like harp strings. The floral fragrance of their creamy purple plumes mingled with the scent of sweet pea still dousing Ibara’s skin. She found the aroma soothing, so her nerves settled just a bit.

They jumped back into high-gear once the house came into view. It was a magnificent, grand structure with an ornate porch stretching around the building, adorned with a white lattice trellis trawling with dark green vines. Through the gap in the porch above the stairs, she could see a sliding door painted with a lovely rendition of crows resting in the branches of an oak tree. Ibara huddled close to her father as they strode up the path. While her parents exuded auras of confidence and poise, anxiety bled from Ibara’s pores like dark, putrid water. When they stepped up onto the portico, the front doors slid open to reveal a dark-haired man and woman wearing regal purple-and-white kimonos.

“Welcome to our home. Please, come inside,” the man said with a regal bow. Ibara pressed against her father’s arm, regarding the noble couple with wide eyes. As the man raised his head, his gaze flickered to her. The deep ruby hue of his irises unsettled Ibara. Ibara likened them to bright red blood, and the image of the liquid leaking from her mangled, dead body suddenly bloomed in her head. The nausea returned full-force, but there was nothing to be done. Her parents quickly ushered her into the abode.

The polished wood beneath Ibara’s feet made not a creak as she hobbled alongside her father. A maid poured five glasses of aromatic ginger tea and distributed them to the families as they sat on cushions around a small coffee table. Her suitor was nowhere to be seen. Ibara wasn’t sure if that relieved or disconcerted her.

“Your reputation proceeds you, My Lady Shiozaki,” the head of the Tokoyami household smiled at Ibara with a respectful dip of his head. “Truly, words of your beauty do you no justice. You are even more splendid than the rumors suggest.” Though Ibara’s tongue was as dry as sandpaper, she forced herself to provide a small word of thanks. “We have much to discuss concerning the wedding ceremony to be performed at dusk,” he continued with a languid wave to her parents. “My son, Fumikage, is much eager to meet you. He is waiting in our garden out back.”

“My attendant shall escort you,” the mother piped up with a serene smile. The maid shuffled forward, bowed to Ibara, and then gestured toward the hallway leading out of the room. “We would like to give you this time to yourselves to get to know each other.”

Ibara knew this meeting was coming, but it did not stop all the starch from dissolving from her knees. She clutched the edge of the coffee-table in a white-knuckled grip as she pushed herself to her feet. Thankfully, the skirt of her kimono hid her wobbling knees. Ibara took a few moments to discreetly gather herself by steadying her breathing and steeling her nerves. It worked only just enough for her to take some tentative steps towards the attendant. The young girl immediately turned and disappeared into the thin hallway leading into the interior of the house. Ibara sucked in a breath and, without looking back at her mother and father, followed the servant.

Sunlight filtered in through the cloth windows to cast the hallway in a bright gold atmosphere. The stripes of light dappled across Ibara’s dark green kimono to dye it the brilliant emerald of her eyes. They walked for about two minutes before they came upon another sliding door. Ibara could hear birdsong and the babbling of window drifting through the thick cloth panes. The servant bowed to her once more.

“This is the entrance to the garden. When the preparations for the ceremony are complete, I will fetch you. Please excuse me,” the maid said, bowing deeper. Ibara acknowledged the young maid with a curt nod. Dismissed, the maid shuffled away down the hall. Ibara sucked in a nervous breath and faced the door. By all rights, it was an ordinary sliding door, but to Ibara, it looked like the entranceway to another dimension. Does it lead to Heaven or Hell? she wondered with an anxious gulp. Her fingers trembled as they slotted into the groove in the smooth wooden frame. The door rattled quietly as she drew it open. Fresh air carrying the aroma of various plants jumped through the gap, and the breeze ruffled the skirt of Ibara’s silk kimono friskily. Ibara opened the door halfway and shyly peered around it.

A garden extended behind the small porch ringing the backside of the structure. A massive wisteria, which dwarfed the specimens lining the path leading up to the house, dominated the back corner of the backyard. Its purple blossoms swayed in the gentle breeze like noiseless windchimes. A rock pathway meandered from the wooden steps around the grassy expanse, trailing around iron-wrought benches and flower patches and a koi pond with a small bubbling waterfall. Songbirds flitted through the grass, pecking at the ground in search of seeds and grubs. Ibara could see no one in her direct line of sight, so she cleared her throat and hesitantly called, “Hello?”

Ibara flinched when she heard the distinct sound of grass crunching underfoot. She used the door to shield the majority of her body as the footsteps approached. Suddenly, the songbirds scattered into the sky with frantic chirps and twitters to disappear into the leaves of the oak leaves looming over the garden wall. Ibara’s eyes widened as a young man strolled into view and squinted directly at her.

He was a handsome fellow; there was no doubt about it. His hair was a deep black like his parents’, shining with a violet tinge in the bright sunlight. It was close-cropped around his neck and ears but fluffy around the top, poofing out at the back not unlike a bird’s fluffy short tail feathers. He wore a cotton yukata of violet accented with lavender and white underlayers. A hand rested on the deep purple hilt of the katana secured to his hips. What captivated Ibara was his eyes, however- like his father’s, they were a deep crimson. They set like hard-cut rubies in his pale face, but their glittering harshness didn’t unsettle Ibara as before. Gleaming intelligence and curiosity shone within those vermillion irises, and Ibara found herself intrigued.

As Fumikage stared at her, Ibara remained huddled behind the door.

“Miss Shiozaki?” he called inquiringly. His voice vibrated with a deep bass, but it carried a light-hearted tone. Ibara’s anxieties began to wane, so she crept out from behind the door to walk out onto the porch. A pink haze appeared on her cheeks as his eyes visibly widened in awe. “F-forgive me,” he stammered after a few seconds of staring and hastily turned away. “I am simply overcome by your beauty…”

“You’re too kind,” Ibara smiled shyly. To be honest, she had not been sure what this son of a prominent samurai would be like; she was relieved to find him courteous and even a bit meek. Curiosity soon began to overtake her hesitations, so she walked closer to the top of the steps leading down to the garden. Fumikage’s gaze flickered to her, and before she could begin walking down the steps, he rushed forward to offer her his hand. “Thank you.” His hand was soft and welcoming as it gently embraced her fingers. He guided her down the steps and, when she regarded him expectantly, brought her hand to his mouth to respectfully kiss the top of her hand.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” he smiled gallantly. Though it was purely customary to address her in such a way, Ibara could detect genuine joy swimming in his bright red irises.

“As am I,” she responded kindly. Fumikage’s gaze slowly trailed to her flowing waves of jade-green hair. When Ibara noticed his captivated stare, she giggled and offered him a swathe of her locks. He began to stammer and sputter refusals, flapping his hands about, but Ibara pushed the chunk of hair forward with a gentle laugh. “I don’t mind. It isn’t every day that you see a woman with green hair, no?” Fumikage gulped audibly but nodded and timidly took the hair in his hands. An awed breath ghosted past his lips as he admired the sheen of the green mane, and his thumb slowly trailed over the smooth strands, as if he appreciated the most beautiful gemstone. The way he drank in the luster of her hair made her cheeks redden further. Under his intense gaze, Ibara felt nothing less than a goddess.

“Simply marvelous… I have never seen anything like it…” Fumikage murmured. His gaze flickered upwards, and his red irises locked with Ibara’s green ones. With a nervous cough, he hastily dropped her hair and straightened back up to maintain some sense of poise. “Miss Shiozaki-”

“Ibara,” she corrected. A red hue blazed over the entirety of his face, and Ibara chuckled at how cute the young man was. “We are to be married today. Please, call me Ibara,” she insisted. He wrung his hands uncertainly for a few seconds.

“R-right then. Ibara,” he nodded, saying her name slowly like he was experimentally rolling it over his tongue. “As such, you may call me Fumikage.” He blushed fiercely when she repeated his name. “A-a-anyway, would you like to stroll with me around the garden?” he asked and offered her his arm. Ibara glanced around the extravagant backyard; it stretched along the entire backside of the manor, with the back wall a small black line in the distance. The stone path wandered through the garden, and its meandering curves would provide a nice long walk indeed. Smiling amiably, Ibara hooked her arms around Fumikage’s. A heat rose to her face when she felt the solid muscle hidden beneath the thick cloth, so she tried to focus on maintaining a friendly aura rather than on indecent thoughts. As she rested her hand on the thick of his arm, he draped his over hers. His touch was gentle and kind.

The walked in tandem along the winding pathway. Ibara esteemed the bamboo water fountain that filled the air with a repetitive, calm tapping as it flowed water into the koi pond. They paused beside the small pool, and Ibara watched the fish swimming along the muddy bottom. They flitted through the roots of the lotuses blooming on the surface in their big green pads, the shadows dappling their red, white, orange, and black multicolored scales. Ibara could barely see her reflection in the clear water and flushed when she noticed Fumikage smiling adoringly at her. After a few more minutes of watching the fish swim, they continued on their way.

“I am told that your mother crafts luxury clothes and accessories, and your father sells them, and this is how your family made your fortune,” Fumikage said after some time strolling down the path. “Did your mother make this?” he asked with a gesture to the ornate hairpin adorning her hair. Ibara raised a hand to touch the cloth-and-wire construction.

“Yes. She made it especially for this meeting.”

“She is very talented. I will have to extend her my compliments,” Fumikage smiled as he appreciated the lavish fixture. “Are you also a seamstress or craftswoman?” Ibara flushed and looked bashfully down at her feet.

“My mother taught me the craft, but I am not nearly as talented. My father says it is unbecoming of someone of my stature, but the servants say my true talent lies in the cultivation of plants…” she admitted meekly. Ibara possessed a great love of plants. From a young age, she had frequented their manor’s herb garden, which the cooks used rather than importing spices. They said that Ibara possessed a “green thumb”- an inherent ability to make plants flourish and thrive. “It is not a very useful talent for a noblewoman…”

“No!” Fumikage interjected, and she peered at him out of the corners of her eyes. He blushed slightly and adjusted his tone to a calmer one. “N-no,” he repeated softly, “I think that is a charming gift. I-if it pleases you,” he stammered with a sweeping gesture to the garden, “you can have leave of this place as you wish. The servants tend it, but if it made you happy, I would have you tend to it as you desire.” Ibara could not hide the eager expression that bloomed over her face.

“Really?!” As she enthusiastically looked around the garden, ideas for improvements sparked in her mind. Fumikage chuckled as he watched her glance around fervently. After a few seconds, she recalled her place and looked down at the hem of her dress in embarrassment. “Ah… Forgive me.”

 “Do not ask forgiveness,” he corrected her. His hand twitched once before resting under her chin to tilt her face up slowly. Her eyes widened when they met his ruby irises. “If this place makes you happy, then I am delighted.” His thumb swept once across her cheek in a feather-light touch before his hand dropped back to his side. A bright red tinge appeared on his face, and he cleared his throat gracelessly. “Sh-shall we continue…?” Ibara nodded sagely, and, feeling slightly bold, pressed herself a little closer to Fumikage. If he took notice of her intimate action, he didn’t acknowledge it.

The sun inched across the blazing blue sky as they ambled down the garden path. They discussed many things, including their respective childhoods and interests. Ibara had been surprised to learn that Fumikage was not merely a samurai in training, but also practice. He recounted a harrowing trail of hunting bandits in the nearby mountains for the daimyo, and how his first real battle had earned him a scar on his forearm. He showed it to her. Ibara marveled at the thin white line crossing the otherwise unmarred skin, and gulped when she imagined a sharp blade biting into the flesh of her own forearm. A phantom stinging pain slashed at her limb, and so she clutched it tightly.

“Did it hurt?” she whispered, eye flicking up to his. Amusement danced in his crimson eyes as he chuckled at her.

“Yes, it did hurt,” he chortled. “But I am better for the wound. I lived to fight another day and learned my sword better to prevent it from ever happening again.” Ibara nodded slowly, tracing the thin and unassuming scar with her fingertip. She jerked away when Fumikage flinched, and she wondered if perhaps the area was still sensitive. When she opened her mouth to apologize, he laughed. “That tickled.” She blinked a few times. She smiled with a soft giggle.

~~~~~~~~~~

After the sun had reached the highest point in the sky to beat down upon them, the pair of young nobles reclined under the wisteria tree to partake in its lovely shade. Their shoulders touched as they lounged against the thick trunk, and every subtle movement that made their arms brush sent crackling fire through Ibara’s nerves.

“Your home is truly beautiful,” Ibara sighed contentedly as she watched a few cotton-white butterflies dart through a nearby flowerbed. They perched on the bright blue flowers to suckle at the nectar within. Ibara felt more at ease than she ever had in the splendid garden, even if she was seated beside the man she was to marry in a few hours.

“I am relieved you find this place to your liking.” He was silent for a few seconds, then fidgeted uncomfortably. “To be honest,” he confessed with an awkward scratch at the back of his neck, “I was concerned that you would be unhappy in coming here. I understand that marrying a man you have never met is daunting…”  His vermillion eyes flickered to her face, and he flashed her a discomfited smile. “But I hope that you can still find it in yourself to learn to love me…”

“Fumikage,” Ibara whispered in admiration. The boy’s eyes were sad as he stared forlornly at the katana resting against the tree trunk. He is as uneasy about this as I am, she realized. She reached out to grasp one of his hands with both her own. “There is… much I do not know yet about you, just is there is much you don’t know about me,” she admitted with knitted eyebrows and a frown, “and I would be remiss to deny that I am still uncertain.” Fumikage looked at her uncomfortably.

Smiling sweetly, she reached up to run her fingers through his fluffy raven hair, finding it softer than a bird’s down. “I do not know yet what is to become of the two of us in this union, but there is one thing I can say for certain. As we take our vows with the gods as our witnesses, I will mean every word, because I have never met a man as kind and true as you.” He flushed red at her high praise, and he looked down at their adjoined hands. “I came here afraid to meet the man I was to wed. I am not afraid to learn to love you anymore.”

“That relieves me,” Fumikage murmured with a tiny smile. He edged out his thumb to stroke Ibara’s knuckles adoringly. “I am lucky,” he laughed and looked up with a bright smile. “I never imagined that I would marry a woman blessed by a god.” His hand pushed into her waves of green hair to tuck it behind her ear; as it retreated, it came to rest on her cheek, thumb sweeping arcs under her eye. She leaned into his touch, smiling at the peculiar softness of his calloused hand against her face. “I am sure the god looks upon you fondly, being such a generous and honorable woman as you are.”

“You flatter me,” she chuckled. Her eyes grew lidded as Fumikage’s continuous caresses eased her into a sense of security and comfort. There was no lie in his touch; though they had just met, genuine care and love existed in his soft strokes over her skin. Ibara’s eyelashes fluttered demurely as his smile widened.

“You may not want to look at me like that,” he warned spiritedly. “I may do something quite unbecoming of one of my stature.” At the usage of the phrase she had uttered not long ago, Ibara laughed good-naturedly.

“Well,” she smiled invitingly, “I think we have established that I am used to doing things unbecoming of my stature.” His lips curled upward into a smirk. Ibara shifted so that she was facing him fully as his hand pushed further against her cheek. She inhaled deeply in expectation as his face began to enclose on hers. Fumikage’s gaze trained on her lips, which parted slightly in preparation. The tip of his nose brushed against hers. Her eyes fluttered closed so that she could abandon herself in the feeling of their lips melding together.

Ibara released the breath she had been holding in a slow, contented sigh. Fumikage’s lips were soft and supple as they worked against Ibara’s mouth in hesitant, gentle motions. It was a sweet and chaste kiss but not without incredible feeling. When he pulled away, her eyes fluttered open, and she regarded him bashfully. He observed her with similar shyness, and he squeezed her hand firmly.

However, before he could say anything, the servant called from the porch. Though the young girl probably couldn’t see them in the dappled shadows of the large wisteria, the two nobles separated a bit and let go of one another hands to avoid any undue scolding. Fumikage shouted back to acknowledge they had heard the servant’s summons before looking at Ibara with a wan smile.

“Are you ready? It seems our parents have agreed on the final preparations.” Four hours ago, a pit of dread would’ve balled up Ibara’s belly, and nausea would’ve tainted her answer; now, after spending this short time with the young samurai, she was remarkably at peace. She stood and brushed the grass bits from the skirt of her kimono, and then breathed in calmly.

“Yes. I am ready,” Ibara nodded and exhaled a deep breath. She cast him a pleasant smile and extended her hand. “Walk in with me?” she requested hopefully. Fumikage raised an eyebrow at her, weighing the options. Their parents would likely disapprove of their closeness; after all, it was improper to be so intimate before one is married. He decided that he didn’t care and grasped her hand, using the other to grip his sword and use it as leverage to push himself up. Ibara flushed when he interlaced their fingers and smiled affectionately at her.

“All right, then. Let’s go.”

The wisteria flowers kissed Ibara’s face and shoulders as she walked through them, almost as if they were offering her their congratulations. The doused her in their floral perfume and deposited their small lavender petals in her long hair. The pond bubbled a little louder as she passed, or so she imagined, like it was celebrating the union to come. Smiling shyly, she rested her head on Fumikage’s shoulder as they approached the porch. He didn’t say anything, but instead leaned his head against hers with a slight nuzzle, threading his raven hairs with her jade ones.  

“Do you think they would consent to letting us marry under the wisteria? It’s such a splendid tree.” Fumikage chuckled and nodded his head, making their hairs twist further together.

“I am sure that can be arranged.”

They walked into the house, and so began the first moment of the rest of their hopefully blessed days together…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork​ @sadistiks @wesparklebitch​ @simplybakugou​

[imagine-loki]

Gifted

Title: Gifted (Sequel to Giftless)

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 45/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: 

Imagine that you are Stark’s niece and you secretly share a strong relationship with Loki since he entered the crew. One day you get hurt so bad during a mission that you are about to die.  Loki knows a spell that will save you and share his immortality with you but you and he will be linked forever sharing thoughts, pain, emotions…

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

You found out what Tom had sent you a few days later while you were sitting on the common room couch with Loki, doing your homework.  You had been living in the tower so much since you’d gotten back that you were seriously considering giving up your apartment, since you never spent any time there anymore anyway.  You needed to be at home in the tower, and it wasn’t like you couldn’t teleport to your classes.  You didn’t need to solitude of the isolation of your apartment to hold yourself together after Loki had left, now that he was back. 

“Kat, you got a letter,” Tony told you as he entered the common room, holding the mail.  He tossed the envelope your way. You grabbed it with telekinesis and floated it over to you gently. You could never catch items thrown in your direction any other way.  You pulled it from the air and smiled when you saw it was from Tom. You ripped it open and pulled out two tickets and a letter.

-Kat,

You and Loki are coming to the premiere of the new Avengers’ movie. It’ll be a lot of fun. Kelly and I will help you get ready the day of the premiere. I know it’s your first one.

See you there

Tom-

You laughed and handed the letter to Loki, who also laughed in delight at getting to spend time with his other friends.  You looked at the tickets. It was still a couple months away. At least Tom had given you plenty of notice beforehand.  Especially since the premiere wasn’t in the city.  

“Why are you two laughing?” Tony asked suspiciously.  He wisely didn’t trust either of you laughing and trusted you less when you were both laughing.  

“We’re going to Hollywood in a couple months for a movie premiere!” you told him excitedly, waving the tickets for emphasis.  

"You got invited to a movie premiere?” Tony asked, confused. He hadn’t gotten to the part where he would tell you that you couldn’t go.  He’d get there eventually.  Though he let you go to Asgard.  And you were an adult.

“Tom,” you explained simply.  That was actually enough of an explanation.  

Tony huffed. “Why did you have to become friends with an actor?” he grumbled. 

You shrugged. “It’s fun, and it’s the film crew’s fault. They’re the ones who confused Tom and Loki in the first place,” you reminded him. 

Tony just sighed. “I want to tell you that you can’t go, but it’s not like you haven’t been further away than across the country.  Just be careful, imp,“ he told you firmly.  

"I’m always careful. It’s not my fault trouble keeps finding me,” you grumbled at him. Both he and Loki just laughed at you. You glared at them both in return.

*

Things around the tower actually stayed relatively quiet until Loki’s birthday. He kissed you goodnight on March 31st, insisting that he was sleeping in his own suite that night and that you were not. You didn’t argue with him, accepting his decision, but your suite was lonely without his presence. He had done this his last birthday here too. April 1st wasn’t really his birthday, as the day the Sigynite flowers bloomed in Asgard wasn’t really your birthday. You had assigned the date for his birthday for him his first year here, because it was April fool’s day. That year he had swapped genders of everyone in the tower, except you and Helene. You figured he had a big plan set up for his birthday this year too.

-I miss you- you texted him as you laid in bed trying to fall asleep that night.

-I miss you too, but I want you safely away from the pranks, or accusations- he reminded you.  He had done the same thing last time too.  He didn’t want you in trouble for something that wasn’t your fault. 

-I know-

-Tomorrow will be fun- he promised and you could practically hear the glee in his text.  

You made your way down to the common room early the next morning. No one was up yet, so you curled yourself in your spot on the couch with a book to wait for everyone to join you. You hadn’t seen any pranks yet, but that didn’t mean anything.

“KATHRYN WHERE IS THAT CURSED BOYFRIEND OF YOURS?“ you heard Tony’s roar through the entire tower.  

"Ah, the sweet dulcet sounds of my darling uncle,” you commented to no one, waiting until he stormed into the room to find out what Loki had done this time. 

Nat came storming in to the room first. "Where the fuck is your boyfriend?” she demanded, but it was Tony’s voice that came out of her mouth. 

It took you a minute to understand before you started laughing so hard you nearly fell off the couch. “Haven’t seen him,” you finally managed. Nat was a tiny deadly assassin.  Tony had to be pissed to be in her body. You just started laughing again.

More people started to file into the room, all of them were some mix of pissed and laughing their asses off. The game of the morning seemed to be finding out who had whose body.

“I need to go find Pepper, she’s probably freaked out,“ Tony said out of Nat’s body.  You snorted. Pepper was probably having the time of her life "And find Loki so I can kick his ass for this.” Tony growled and stomped off. Pepper came and sat down next to you shortly after. You saw her grin and the mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Having fun, Lo?” you asked him, recognizing that familiar going in his eyes.

Loki nodded from Pepper’s body. “Though Lady Natasha was quite upset with me for seeing her in Tony’s naked body this morning. Apparently I must purchase a new black leather jacket for her to make up for it,” he replied with a laugh.

“Are you buying her the jacket?” you asked, curiously.  Loki usually didn’t give in to demands.

“It is already purchased and will be here tomorrow,” he replied with a grin.  No one messed with Nat, not eve Loki. 

"Smart choice,” you replied with a laugh. Nat could be scary when she was angry. Though the scariest thing you saw that morning was Fury cooking breakfast for everyone. “You pranked Helene?” you demanded. That just wasn’t nice.

“I asked her permission first. She said it sounded like fun,” Loki replied from Pepper’s body. “I would not prank her otherwise. That would be mean,”

“KAT! Tell that cursed boyfriend of yours to put this right!” Tony yelled awhile later, dragging Loki’s body with him, but that wasn’t Loki.

“That’s not Loki,” you told him calmly.

“I know. It’s Pepper,” Tony growled.

“Hi Pepper!” you waved. Pepper teleported over to you. Apparently she had Loki’s powers that day too.  

"Hi Kat! This is so much fun!” she greeted you excitedly. “Loki, you have the most amazing birthday plans ever!” Pepper was an excited ball of happy and went over to Tony in Nat’s body to kiss him.

“Stop that!” Nat yelled from Tony’s body. You just laughed. This whole thing was ridiculous and chaotic. Fury, from Helene’s body, still made everyone go on patrol, while he was laughing his ass off at everyone’s discomfort and the hilarity of the whole situation.

“Why didn’t you get pranked?” Pepper asked you when she realized everyone else had..

“Loki loves me too much,” you replied automatically.

“That is true,” Loki replied. “It would be unwise to make my  lady displeased with me,”

“Kat, you and Loki are on patrol this morning,” Fury reminded you. You nodded and Loki disappeared up to Pepper’s room to get ready. You used magic to summon your armor. You still had your usual powers.

“Kat, be careful. Pepper doesn’t have Loki’s powers. You’ll have to be the main super on patrol today,” Tony told you, overly worried as per usual. 

You rolled your eyes. “Uncle Tony, we’ll be fine. We’ve patrolled together how many times now? Plus it’s the middle of the day on a Saturday. He treats me like an equal on patrols, and not just a support healer, like you do,“ you reminded him. He glared at you, but the effect was diminished coming from Nat’s body. He didn’t do her scary anger look justice.

Loki came back downstairs in Pepper’s armor and the two of you headed out on patrol. You teleported us to your starting point. "So you don’t have your powers today?” you asked him.  That was actually a point of concern.

“No, I do. Everyone else, however, has switched powers,” he answered. That was a relief. “It is more fun to make your uncle worry,”

“Lady Sigyn!” a random reporter called as you were walking. “Do you have a new partner? Where’s Loki?”

“He’s with another patrol group today,” you told her with a smile, easily lying thanks to your god-of-lies soulmate. “Animorph is my partner today.” Pepper hadn’t officially chosen a name and secret identity, but she could go through a few until she decided on one.  She was going with her shapeshifting ability for her identity for right now.  Loki was wisely keeping silent. They would notice his voice coming out of Pepper’s body and you weren’t exactly advertising his birthday prank.

“Loki won’t be jealous?” she asked, hoping for a juicy story. 

You shook your head. “Not at all. Don’t forget your mythology. Sigyn is the goddess of fidelity,” you told her with a grin. “Besides, it’s one day of patrol. There’s nothing to be jealous of about patrol.” You gave out a couple of signatures and you continued on your way.

"Goddess of fidelity, huh?” Loki asked once you were away from the reporter.

“Well, she is…” you replied with a shrug. “She’s also known as the fetterer. I thought it would be smart to at least read up on the superhero name I ended up with,”

“Smart plan, Sig,” he replied. You rolled your eyes, but laughed at him. Your patrol path was quiet today, besides the reporter and some fans who saw you.

When you got back to the tower, Loki’s birthday party was set up and waiting. You laughed when everyone jumped out from behind couches to yell ‘surprise’ at him. You squeezed his hand when you saw the hint of tears in his eyes. He was actually surprised that you would set up a surprise party for him. You had cake, ice cream, and pizza and everyone congratulated Loki on that year’s prank. He got mostly books, prank gifts, and human magic tricks for birthday presents.

Your present for him was last. You summoned the small box and handed it to him. “It’s not much, but it’s my first time enchanting an object…” you hedged. You had worked hard on it, but it was your first time enchanting an object and you couldn’t make it as cool as you wanted. He opened the box to reveal a gorgeous fancy watch. He slipped it on his wrist at once.

“It is lovely, darling. Thank you,” he told you with a smile. “Now, how is it enchanted?” he asked curiously. He was more interested in your magic than the actual watch. You didn’t blame him, but he was adorable about it as ever.

“Push both the buttons at the same time,” you told him with a smile. He did so, and a bluish-green shield popped up around him.

“Very creative,” he admired. You saw him investigating the magic in it further. “It looks like it is also set to automatically activate if I am attacked?” He asked for your confirmation.  You nodded you agreement, not at all surprised that he could see what the spell did. “Very ingenious indeed.” That was high praise from him. He leaned down to kiss you, or would have, except you were nearly the same height since he was still in Pepper’s body. You held him at arm’s length.

“Nu-uh, no kisses for you until you’re back in your own body,” you told him firmly. He pouted and Pepper looked especially pathetic when she pouted.

“I can kiss you instead!” Pepper offered from Loki’s body.

“Thank you, no,” you replied with a laugh. “I can live without kisses until the spell ends,”

[deliciousscaloppine]

A TRUE RAREPAIR APPROACHES

For Jiang Yanli / Luo Qingyang (Mianmian!) Are you more the type to cut off your braid and wear an armour to save your princess or the type to give up your royal privileges to run away with your beloved maid? 

This is really too long for a prompt, and too short for the story I wanted to write so excuse my bad planning (the story elements are good though)

The carriage rocked and rattled, making her sleepy.

“Is Lanling a big city?” her brother asked from outside. He was riding on a horse, out in the open air with no care in the world. No worries about his complexion darkening under the harsh sun. No petulant groom for him to satisfy with the pale color of his skin.

“Big? What kind of silly question is that! Why don't you ask if the sun shines.” her other brother barked from the other side of the carriage. “Of course, it's big, I showed it to you on the map!” He was also riding on a horse, out in the open air, his only care if he would make a good impression.

“Why are you mad! Don't you know there are no silly questions! All I want to know is how comfortable our sister will be. Lotus Pier is so distant and so small, it's okay for a peasant's life, but our sister is a fairy from the moon. She deserves the best wedding!”

“You needn't worry, young master!” the driver of the carriage said. “Lady Jiang will have no shortage of comforts. Carp Tower is like a town unto itself. It's no mere mansion. Its residences are outnumbered by its many workshops and shrines. Anything she wants will be delivered to her. All her life she might not have need to step outside of her husband's bedroom.”

An awkward silence followed. Her little brother knocked on the carriage window.

“Big sister, did you hear that?” he said concerned. “Listen, if you want to bolt, just say so. I'll take you on my horse and we'll disappear into the night.”

She had smiled “A-Xian.”

Her family where once rangers. They traveled throughout the land in ceaseless motion. They slept outside under the starry sky, they hunted for food, they knew how to make fire. They didn't mind wearing rags as they fought for justice. Perhaps that's why her father liked little A-Xian so much. He still had that hint of wilderness inside him.

But somewhere along the line, the Jiang had married well, they had acquired a big home and followers, and the ranger had become gentry. Not fully extinguished perhaps, but definitely more preoccupied with courtly manners, and dress, and important political alliances.

The carriage stopped and a loud voice was heard proclaiming some herald of the Jin Clan.

“What do you mean this carriage is too small! It's perfectly sized.” she heard her brother argue outside. “That thing is so big, it might as well be a house. How we'll talk to our big sister in this?”

She poked her head through the window. A well-dressed, if somewhat self important herald approached her.

“Lady Jiang, your future husband, the groom, the pearl of Carp Tower, our lord Jin Zixuan is sending this carriage for you so that you can enter the city with the honor befitting the status of the future lady of Carp Tower.”

Jiang Yanli was already dizzy from the rocking of the carriage. She had hoped to walk a few paces and breathe some fresh air before arriving in Lanling.

“I will take it, if my brothers are permitted to ride at the front.” she said getting off.

Her brothers looked at her uncertain. How could she tell them, she was supremely tired of their bickering. Of course, it was the nerves of the separation, but she had even more of those, and she had to maintain not only a perfect composure, but also a flawless complexion.

The road full of pebbles and rocks, crunched under her shoes and she wondered if that was that last bit of her freedom waving goodbye. A large retinue of maids and servants and all sorts of Jin disciples stood to greet her

“I am Luo Qingyang” a young, athletic lady with a sword and a fairly sunkissed complexion bowed. “I will be keeping you safe on this journey.” she said and showed her the way into the large, ornate carriage.

“You can call me Mianmian. Everybody does.” Luo Qingyang said once they were inside.

“Mianmian!” Yanli laughed behind her hand.

“Isn't it funny! But only girls can call me like that!” she said brightly and reached for a little embroidered pouch from her pocket. She handed it to Yanli. “Here! If you get dizzy smell this. It's some aromatic herbs, they help with headaches and the such.”

Yanli pressed it to her face smiling. “You make these yourself?”

“I am a talented swordswoman, but there is not much to do around in Carp Tower, I mostly escort ladies of the house and lord Jin Zixuan. I learned how to make these aromatic pouches from the other ladies there. They help me remember home.”

Mianmian took out another pouch. “This one has dried herbs my mother plants in her garden. When I get a little homesick, I press it to my face like this. I'll show you how to make them, they are pretty easy! This way you can take the smell of lotus flowers with you wherever you go.”

Yanli looked at the colorful pouch in her hands. “Thank you.” she said and felt tears coming to her eyes.

Mianmian pulled out a kerchief. “Oh, don't cry over a silly pouch! You'll see, you'll miss nothing when we get to Carp Tower. Whenever you get a little homesick, we'll just hop on this carriage and trot at the pace of a snail all the way to Lotus Pier!”

Yanli laughed. She laughed many times, until night descended around them and the horses had to rest.

“What is lord Jin Zixuan like?” Yanli asked lying down on the soft pillows, pressing Mianmian's aromatic pouch in her hand. It was hot in the carriage, but too cold for her to go outside.

Mianmian sighed. “Well, he is kind of aloof, you know. But he just doesn't know how to express himself. I mean, he comes across as conceited. Well, not conceited...self-important? No, that's not the word! Uhm, too full of himself?”

Jiang Yanli paled.

“But he is alright, I guess. I don't think you will be seeing him often, anyway. A sect leader is always terribly busy. Lord Guangshan almost never sees Lady Jin. Even though that whole thing is a different issue.”

“How so?”

“Well, they were forced into this marriage when they were very young, and they never really hit it off. I guess each felt trapped in a relationship they didn't want to be in, and both acted out in ways that caused a permanent rift between them.” Mianmian said. “Though lord Guangshan certainly did the most to ruin the relationship...with all of those uhm...extramarital affairs.”

Yanli sat up on her elbows. “I need a breath of fresh air” she said.

The night was dry and cold all around them, Yanli had needed a coat. The pebbles crunched under their feet. But the sky was clear and all one could see were stars, as many of them as the pebbles of the road underneath their feet. She smiled again to herself. Better not. Her family had good reason to settle.

“I will like Carp Tower.” she said in a loud voice.

“Eh, it's alright.” Mianmian followed. “It sure is impressive at first, but then everyone has so many opinions, so many little things you can slight someone over. So no one ever does or says anything that's slightly out of the ordinary. We all politely eat lunch and smile at each other.”

“How come you never left then!” Yanli heard herself exclaim. “If it's so horrible and boring what are you doing there.”

Mianmian lifted her shoulders. “It's comfortable, I guess.” she said, and Yanli felt her stomach twist in a knot. It was so cold she felt dizzy. The thought of galloping through the night, not with A-Xian, someone else, then seemed utterly ridiculous to her.

She was no ranger! She wasn't even a swordswoman. She was just a pliant, handsome girl who knew how to light the stove and cook, and make everyone feel better. That'swho she had wanted to be! That's who she thought she were. No catching fish or pheasants, and playing all day like little A-Xian. No practicing the sword and running amok like A-Cheng.

“Can you hunt, Mianmian? I don't mean monsters, or other ghouls. I mean can you catch pheasants or fish by the riverside?”

Mianmian looked at her bewildered. “I never had to. Every meal at Carp Tower is a feast.” Mianmian however could tell that was not the answer Jiang Yanli was looking for. “...I could try.” she offered.

“How about a horse? Can you ride one?”

“I always prefered my own two feet.” Mianmian said. “I can ride the sword though. That has to count for something.”

The sword, Janli thought. The sword.

Two days later the carriage arrived at Lanling, and an auspicious wedding was held after some time. Everyone drank to the new bride's health. She put on the fineries of Carp Tower, and smiled. And after a while there came a momeent when she had to say goodbye to her own two brothers, her mother and father and be now a true lady of the Lanling Jin.

“We'll come to see you often!” her brothers waved at her and left.

The groom? The groom was fine. Mianmian said he was polite and considerate, but Yanli thought he was entirely cold. On their first night together he had said, “Why don't you acclimate yourself to life in Carp Tower first,” and then left.

Her first thought was that she had done something wrong. That by some oversight, she had made herself undesirable. She looked at herself in her mirror and craved to be kissed, and held, and be talked to softly. To be squeezed in someone's arms.

“Don't take it to heart!” Mianmian had laughed the next day. “I am sure he is just as nervous as you!”

“I am not at all nervous.” she had said wistfully and wondered if it was wrong. If not being nervous was that disastrous oversight.

“I would be.” Mianmian mused. “I mean you do not really know your husband at all. That is a strange situation. He never had to find what you like and seek your favor.”

“It's too late now for all that.”

“I have an idea!” Mianmian said. “Why don't you tell me what you like! Then I can go and tell him! I'll be like your secret messenger.”

Yanli laughed. “That's childish!” she said. “He wouldn't like that!”

“Why not? Come on let's try! What is something you really like doing?”

Yanli mused. “I guess, I would really like it if he tried some of my soup.” Yanli immediately felt more heartened after expressing herself. “That's right! I want to make him some lotus and rib soup!” 

She took Mianmian and together they went to the kitchen. The many maids that took care of the cooking were very surprised to see a lady of the house in all her exorbitant jewlery and fine silk satins among them, opening cupboards and asking where this and that ingredient were.

For the first time in several days, she felt like her old self. Like she was back at Lotus Pier, waiting for night to fall and share food and stories with her two brothers. Mianmian chattered incessantly, and from time asked to help, chopping the ribs, and grating the ginger, asking why they skim the foam from the top.

“It smells so good!” she finally said, as Yanli carefully served the soup in a bowl.

“Take it to him, before it's cold!”

Mianmian did as she was told, but when she returned, she had no eloquent messages of thanks.

“He's probably too busy to eat soup, right now.” she said.

“Or perhaps he finds it too provincial.” Yanli thought.

“Come on, let's eat the two of us!” Mianmian said and taking the ladle, she served them.

Yanli tasted the soup. It was not exactly how she used to make it. But she didn't what it was that was missing. Carp Tower had everything, it lacked neither ginger, not scallions. Was it the meat? The lotus root? Was it the air of this mansion, heavy with incense and slightly oppressive from the sweat of the fawning courtiers. Did it alter the taste of the soup?

“It's really good!” Mianmian said sipping some of the broth.

“It's not as good as I make it on Lotus Pier. Maybe that's why he didn't like it.” Yanli said pushing the bits of meat and lotus around in her bowl.

“What are you talking about! This is a hearty dish, I've never really tasted anything like it before, but even if I had, I would be glad if someone had just cooked it for me. It might not taste exactly as it does on Lotus Pier, but how could it, you are yourself a different person.”

Yanli's face droop. That's right, she thought, I am sadder. When her two brothers would come back, their faces lit up at the prospect of the soup, her heart was full. They were waiting to be with her, just as much as she did all day...Here no one paid mind to such things. Here no one was waiting.

“What's with the face!” Mianmian asked around a mouthful of lotus root. “Are you feeling homesick?”

“I do.” Yanli said.

“Then eat up! You'll feel better. That's what I always do! When I miss home, I eat watercress soup.”

But Mianmian didn't just say this. Taking a spoonful of soup she guided it to Yanli's lips. Yanli laughed and ate. And soon, she found out there was absolutely nothing with her soup. It tasted great. She ate and ate, until she finally felt full.

I should have played more with my brothers, she thought, when she had finished eating. I should have taught them how to make this soup, and they should have taken me hunting. This way my life would be more complete.

“I never really followed my brothers in their adventures.” she said to Mianmian. “Now I wish I had at least once.”

The following week, a great hunt was held in Phoenix Mountain. All week people run here and there to build a beautiful pavilion for the hunters to rest, and arrange the many refreshments that would be served. Yanli had to dress especially nice, and greet with Madam Jin the many guests. After a while all she had to do was sit at her own table and smile demurely at every remark, at every conversation, even if it was not directed at her.

Until Mianmian came and sat by her side. “I know what will cheer you.” she said. “Let's go hunting together. Let's go catch fish and pheasants!”

“We can do that?” Yanli asked.

“We'll just say you needed to stretch your legs and breathe the fresh air!” Mianmian said, and taking her by the hand, she stole away with her into the forest. Yanli became breathless and dizzy pretty soon, but there Mianmian was, kicking stones out of the path, and giving her her hand, when they had to climb up a steep path.

Mianmian was small, but she was agile and strong like a little mountain goat. They climbed and climbed until miraculously they came across a pheasant.

“I bet I can hit it with my sword from here!” Mianmian said.

“You can't use your sword for a poor bird. You have to give it a fighting chance.”

“Alright.” Mianmian said rolling her sleeves and lunging right on it. The pheasant put up a valiant fight, thrashing around agrily until it won. Screeching offended, it bolted for the bushes.

“I guess I am not that good at catching pheasants.” Mianmian said putting her hands on her waist. From the top of her head to her toes she was covered in dirt and dust, a few plumes sticking out of her hair.

Yanli laughed. “We'll have better luck catching fish!” she said, following the sound of nearby water.

“Only if you let me use my sword.” Mianmian grumbled.

Even if it was the height of summer the rivulet they found was cold, nevertheless Mianmian waded through it valiantly. “Wait here!” she called climbing on a rock.

“I see a lot of fish.” she said, shielding her eyes from the reflections of the water. “I wonder if I can try something.”

Mianmian closed her eyes and unseathed her sword.

“Lady Luo! Don't be excessive!” Yanli called.

But Mianmian didn't stab any fish, until not at first. She waved her sword in a great arc, her body following it like a wave. Rising its tip well above her head, her knee folding. Following the crescent  of this move with her elbows bent, one arm extended, directing power with her index and middle fingers. Breathing as the sword rests for a moment before a decisive swing.

It looked oddly like a dance, Yanli thought. She had seen her two brothers often practice, but their form had nothing as graceful as that. They always looked as if they struggled against something; the air around them, their own shape, their own power perhaps.

The sword glimmered and shined, changing angles around Luo Qingyang's body, moving as if something invisible balanced on its very tip.

Then she brought it powerfully down, smacking the surface of water. The survace of the rivulet bounced, expelling all the fish in the air above them. Yanli shrieked, delighted, as a shower of trouts descended all around them.

Mianmian flew through the air, stabbing two fish, before landing triumphantly. “Let's eat them now!” she exclaimed.

Yanli gathered some twigs. She knew at least how to light a fire. She made a small firepit at the edge of the shore, and lined it with smooth rocks from the river. This was exciting, it was a proper outing in the wild – even if the hunters' pavilion was an hour away.

Yanli smiled to herself as she prepared the kindling. But for some reason when she tried to make fire, her hands faltered. She tried something she knew how to do, but the comfortable life in Carp Tower had made her forget.

Mianmian kneeled by her side, taking the flint from her hands. “Here, let me!” she said brightly, as she stood next to her, their shoulders touching, the sparks flying.

“My mom is a great cook! She taught me how to light a stove at least.” she said smiling.

“I knew how to do this once.” Yanli said loudly.

“You still do! You are probably tired from our little excursion.”

“...Do you think I could live outside, Mianmian?” she asked. “Like a ranger, with no home, just roaming the country on a horse and little else.”

“I am sure you could do anything you put your mind to.” Mianmian said quietly.

Even though Yanli had managed to do this one thing, her heart was now heavy. This was a summer dream, she thought as the fish was roasting. She should just enjoy it and then let it fade away.

The two of them ate their country meal, and as dusk began to approach, they made their way down the path laughing and joking, sometimes holding hands, when the climb down was too steep. When they finally arrived at the hunters' pavilion, before the sun began to set, a great commotion was waiting for them.

The disappearance of the young lady had caused quite the stir. Yanli had wanted to say, “I was just catching fish.” She knew what an immature thing it was to say. So she smiled and apologized profusely, while her husband sat at a corner and sulked, and Mianmian made her own excuses.

When the day was concluded and all the party returned to Carp Tower, Yanli felt she had to apologize to him especially. She tried to explain to him at first what that hunt meant for her. How her brothers would go on long trips, and fool around, knowing that when they came back, they would come back to a home.

“Lady Jiang!” Jin Zixuan said, as if they were not married. “How do you think it makes me feel, when I go looking for you and can't find you!”

Left alone once more during the night, she began to cry. Was it a delusion to think she could bring home with her? Mianmian appeared at the frame of the door.

“Don't cry! It was all my fault!” she cried and in less than a moment, she had embraced her.

“I am not crying about today.” Yanli said. “I am crying for tomorrow and all the tomorrows that will follow after that. I don't think I will ever have Jin Zixuan's love, but even if I did, I am no so sure I would want it.”

Mianmian dried her eyes with her sleeve.

“He might have sounded cold, but I believe in his heart of hearts he has a true fondness for you. When he sees you, he must surely feel like you are the most thoughtful and exceptional person in the world. I know that with time all he'll want is to fall deeply in love with you.”

“He never said that. Stop speaking his mind for him.”

“I am sorry.” Mianmian said confused, her eyes suddenly filling with regret.

Yanli clasped her, tightened her hands around those strong arms that could wield a sword. “When you talk to me like that don't do it for him! Defend me for yourself, love me for yourself.” she said, and as if shocked by her own words, she clasped her mouth next and fled.

She ran through the garden, and hid, like a scared child who has done something worthy of reproach. She stayed for a long time hidden, watching the carp dance in the water, wondering what was happening to her. What were those new things she wanted and why, and sometimes she thought of nothing at all, except for Luo Qingyang's face.

“Don't make this more difficult than it is.” she heard a voice suddenly say. She peeked from behind the bushes and saw Mianmian with two other disciples.

“Madam Jin wants you to leave. Here's some money, take it and go.” they said.

Mianmian looked at their hands, and then with very little hesitation, she took off the lavish garment of the Jin Clan and tossed it at them before storming away.

There were no more reproaches, only consequences.

That night, she smiled and greeted everyone at the banquet. She had graceful words for everyone, but it was not her saying these words. It was a ghost that repeated the things that had been fixed on it since childhood. Yanli felt it retreat from her more firmly with each act of decorum. Goodbye, she said to it with her mind.  

At precisely midnight, a great wind swept the tower, rattling every door and window. Yanli wore her hardiest coat and exited her room. It might have been a fierce night, but the air was fragrant with the smell of the peony flowers. So she run through the empty garden laughing.

She run with with her skirts clutched in her hands, as a torrent of flowers drifted in the wind above her.

“Turn away! Go back!” angry voices sounded in the night. For a moment, she froze, thinking they were coming from her mind. A sword hummed sonorously above the raging wind.

“None of you can stop me!” a familiar voice was heard, and then the sound of a blade thrashing, humming with the stress of every hit, producing a clear sound like a wailing song. Yanli run faster.

Mianmian was in the courtyard dancing with her sword. Twisting around attacks, bouncing her blade on weapons, until they broke. Her form nothing but perfect, as if there was nothing between her and the world, no other blades, no lances, no screams. As if she was just practicing steps in the dark, in deep meditation.

“Fall back! Fall back!” the voices cried. Yanli run to the very bottom of the steps, as bewildered men fled around her.

Mianmian smiled and gave her her hand. The sword hummed and stepping on air, it pulled them through the fragrant, night air, upwards towards the stars.

There were never seen again in the world, but I am sure they are quite happy.

[proherostories]

A Dragon for a Hotblooded Blond

AO3 LINK

WC - 1648

Archive Warnings - Rated T & No Archive Warnings apply. 

Pairing - BakuKiri/Poprocks

Summary -  After chaperoning his drunk friends the week prior, Bakugo decides to go back to the tattoo parlor they'd gone to all because a redhead caught his eye.

Notes - Red eyes don't exist in real life [sadly] so the use of a) contacts and b) tricks of the light were implemented

Written for "#writersmonth2020" from THIS POST

Day 1 Prompt = tattoo artist/flower shop AU

BTW - Never written Bakugo before so plz be gentle DX

To say Kirishima was surprised to see the hotblooded blond from last weekend was a severe understatement. 

He’d come in with a rowdy group of drunks, and while he had appeared to be the most sober of the bunch, he had a peachy tint to his face that he kept denying was the alcohol since he was supposedly the ‘designated driver’. Kirishima had doubted it, but he wasn’t about to push. He himself had driven home tipsy before, as stupid as it was and he would never condone it.

The blond had kept shouting at his friends to either ‘be quiet’ or he was telling them how dumb their tattoo choices were. It’d been hella funny, to watch them all go to the guy for approval and then cheer when all he said was ‘whatever’ or grunt. Calling back to the manga he had in his teenage years, Kirishima would’ve called him the ‘tsundere’ type hands down.

“Hey man,” Kirishima called to him, waving from the desk. It was a slow day so he was spending it organizing stuff. His co-workers Mina and Jiro were out after he’d told them to go home. No need for all three of them to be there when it was stupidly boring. Besides, he wanted Jiro to have all the time in the world to get ready for her date with a girl named Momo. Good on Jiro for landing a lady like that, hella.

‘Blond dude’ grunted back at him, and Kirishima only kept a passive eye on him. With how he’d kept his drunk friends in line he wasn’t worried about him being a thief or anything. “Something catch your eye last time? Didn’t peg ya for a tattoo sort of guy.”

“What makes you say that?” ‘blond dude’ sneered at him, his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket.

Kirishima only arched a brow at him and then shrugged, “Dunno. Guess it was how you seemed to give zero fucks, is all. What can I call ya?”

“The name’s Bakugo. What about you? Can’t keep callin’ ya ‘shitty hair’.”

A snort-laugh escaped the redhead, “Rude, I at least just referred to you as ‘blond dude’. My name’s Kirishima.” he flashed him a smirk and leaned back. His eyes, black hidden by red contacts, flicked up and down as he looked the other over. "So, I still gotta beg the question- you looking for a tat?"

That was where...Bakugo's demeanor seemed to change. Shifting and glancing around again with his lips pulled into a scowl. "What if I am? Anything you'd suggest, shitty hair?" 

"I gave you my name and ya still call me that? I'm hurt, Bakugo," he did a mock press of his hand to his chest but he stood up and stretched, sighing when there were a few pops. Sauntering over to an end table he found the binder that had all of his work and brought it to Bakugo, "Here, take a look at-" he cut off as he met the other man's eyes. Whoa, wicked! With the sun coming in from the window, it was catching on Bakugo's eyes, which were like a cinnamon brown and they were shining orange or a particular shade of red. 

It made Kirishima's breath catch even further when that peachy blush he remembered appeared, but he looked a mix of angry and flustered, brows pulled down and teeth bared, "What?! What were ya gunna say?!"

"Whoa, whoa, chill out," Kirishima put his hands up in defense, looking sheepish, "Your eyes looked really cool there for a sec, is all. I was going to say, have a look at what is in that binder. There's three people that do art here, so if nothing catches your attention then I'll give you another portfolio." 

"Where's yours?" Bakugo was looking less like he was going to bite his head off and he opened the portfolio.

"In your hands," Kirishima smirked before going back to his desk, adding a pop to his step. He was hoping he'd pick something from the first one, and had a feeling it was a challenge now to do so anyway. 

He had reached his destination when he was stopped, “Wait.” Bakugo was staring intently at a page in the binder, “You drew this?” he held it up with one hand and pointed at the drawing in question with the other. It was concept art rather than a finished tattoo piece, but it was a detailed Chinese-style dragon with a rendered head, horns and scales until it reached halfway down the body. That was where it started having curved cuts and breaks in a tribal style, the color of the scales fading out into the black simplicity tribal was supposed to be.

“I sure did. No one’s wanted it yet, it’s supposed to go on the arm to accommodate the winding of its body. People who come in wanting dragons tend to have different ideas in mind.” Kirishima tilted his head, curious but also his heart was suddenly pounding. It’d been in that portfolio so long, he’d contemplated taking out multiple times. He’d done it with other pieces that never got attention, but something always held him back from removing that one. The orange of it with tints of red and flecks of yellow always made him melt. He was a sucker for fire, and while yellow was hard to do in tattoos [something he learned along the way] he knew it wasn’t impossible.

“Can you do it, Kirishima?” Bakugo’s intensity hadn’t faded and Kirishima almost had a heart attack. Wow, was he crushing on this customer? He thought the banter was just good fun, but now he found he really wanted to try and make a good impression. “Even if you’ve never actually done it before, do you think you can now?”

He paused and looked between the drawing and back at Bakugo a few times. With a deep breath through his nose, he nodded, “Yes.” The confidence and the fact he hadn’t answered right away seemed to satisfy the blond, “When I first drew it a few years ago, maybe not. Now? Yes. I have the skills and the know-how, I can definitely do that piece justice.”

“How much? How does this work?” Bakugo joined him at his desk and set the portfolio down, then startled Kirishima by taking off his black jacket.

“Haha, well, I’d like to do a few touchups, and I’d have to solidify at least the outline so I can print and place it on your arm. This’ll give you time to think it-”

“I won’t change my mind, and we’ll do it on my right arm,” Bakugo was firm, holding out the length of his arm for him, “How big will it be?”

“Back to price real fast, the shop goes by time rather than how big or small a tattoo is. 75 dollars for half an hour as a baseline.” Kirishima laughed again but softer as he soaked in the sight. “Damn, man, you’re ripped. Do you have a heavy lifting job or do you just work out?” His touch was light as he took Bakugo’s wrist in his hand and pushed up the short sleeve. Glancing at the image then back at his arm he hummed thoughtfully.

Bakugo gave him a scoff with a smirk attached to it, “I do work out. I have a home gym. An actual one is too damn distracting and paying for a stupid pass is fucking useless with how busy I get.”

Kirishima snorted, “I getcha. I tend to go to a gym between here and my house.” He didn’t catch Bakugo holding his breath when he started tracing where he’d place the tattoo. The muscles were firm and nice to feel. He didn’t know why he was so aware of the other, but he was. Sure he’d had sexy guys and gals in his shop, but Bakugo was different somehow. “So I’d put the head of it here...go around like this, keep it out of the crease of your elbow of course...end it about here? I try and keep sleeve tattoos to the point where they can be covered by long shirts.”

Bakugo humphed, “Do whatever. I don’t care.”

“It’s going to take a lot of work, maybe two or three sessions. I’d suggest bringing a soda or a bag of chocolate, anything that’ll help keep your blood sugar up. Depending on your job and schedule, we can space it to accommodate. I’d do the whole outline first of course. Maybe black fill in next, and lastly the color.”

“Fine.” Bakugo put his sleeve down and moved to put his jacket back on, “I got the time to stay for now. You said you needed to make changes, so I’ll wait and see if I even like what you change.” He pulled his phone out, “You need my number for scheduling, right?”

“Sure do,” Kirishima was amused again and he walked around his desk to his computer, “Lemme bring up my calendar and we’ll get you set up, Bakubro.” He paused, “Ah, can I call ya that? It just slipped out, so-”

“Call me what you want.” Bakugo scoffed again, finding a chair to bring nearby so he could watch what Kirishima was doing, “Let me know when you’re done and I can look at it. Artists are picky about that sort of thing, aren’t they?”

“I don’t mind so much unless I’m embarrassed about it or keeping it a surprise,” Kirishima chuckled, booting up his programs after he put down Bakugo’s appointments and number, “I’m also glad you stayed. I like the company on a boring day like this.”

He noted that Bakugo didn’t respond besides a grunt, but he smiled anyway. Giddy and inspired, he pulled the tattoo design from the portfolio and got to work.

[snowbellewells]

CS Role Reversal: “The Case of the Heart in Armor”

Here is my submission for the @csrolereversal​ event.  It is written from the inspiration of this brilliantly intriguing art by @courtorderedcake​. So make sure to send her all the love for her work!! :)

(Her imagery very strongly reminded me of both Sherlock Holmes and also a bit of Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, and so I ran with it, with @courtorderedcake​‘s blessing of course.  Now, I LOVE Victorian literature, so this of course got out of hand and will now be more than one part. Oops? (How do I keep doing this to myself?!?)  I hope you all won’t mind, and I’ll try not to keep you waiting too long, but I’m not even going to try to guess how many parts anymore. I’m giving that up...  Anyway, I hope you enjoy this opening segment!) 

Summary: Killian “Holmes” Jones is rarely surprised or shocked anymore, but that all changes when he meets one very stubborn - and very beautiful - pickpocket, and trouble brews in the distance, hidden by the London fog... “The Case of the Heart in Armor”

by: @snowbellewells​

Part One

Almost instantaneously, Killian “Holmes” Jones knew something had happened. There was very little that escaped his notice - ever - and the fact that someone had just nicked the gold pocketwatch he always wore was immediately evident, despite their having one of the lightest touches he had experienced in his time walking the seedier London streets. An expectant hush lingered in the air, as if his very surroundings waited to see how he would proceed, and if he could pinpoint just who had divested him of his valuable.

At first glance, the dingey, fog-shrouded and mostly deserted street looked the same as it ever did. There were distant sounds of carriage wheels and horses’ hooves clopping along the cobblestones a street over, the echo of vendors crying their wares, and the distant puff of trains pulling in and out of the station at Marylebone, but in the street where Jones stood, not far from his favored pub, where he was to meet Graham Watson and his older brother, once Liam had left his cushy government office for the night, to share some dinner, things were comparatively calm and still.

That was, until a flash of golden brightness caught his eye, winking from the drab surroundings of brown and grey. The flower cart girl just behind and to his left had not caught his attention when he passed, had not seemed of any particular interest. Even now that the arresting color of her blonde tresses were peeking out of the rather flat, bedraggled hat atop them, she seemed to be busy at her own work, not noticing him at all. And yet, there was something almost too casual about her stance - a marked avoidance of his gaze, as if she were carefully watching him without wishing to seem so. Perhaps some movement had tipped him off unconsciously, but whatever the reason, Killian sensed she was his culprit. Or, if not, she had at least seen something she would rather not share.

Striding purposefully toward her cart of flowers for sale, Killian’s mouth formed a stern line as he prepared to confront the slip of a woman for her thievery. She was still concertedly paying him no mind, though he was certain that she tracked his path warily from the corner of her sparkling jade eyes.

Opening her mouth, she called out the flowers she had on offer along with their prices, pointedly turning away as he came to stand before her. Her voice rang out across the cobblestones clearly, if somewhat tangled by the thick Cockney accent that lay heavy on her tongue. Even if he normally cringed at the harsh sounds of the street vendors and ruffians of the area, he found himself somewhat charmed by the unabashed and almost proud bit of rough he sensed in this one.

Reaching out, he snatched the handful of carnations from her grip, and turned abruptly as if to leave, knowing it would get a rise from the intriguing guttersnipe.

“Oi! Get yer bloomin’ ‘ands off me merchandise if ya don’ mean ta pay!” she cried, her temper riled like a hellcat on the turn of a dime, much as Jones had expected it would be.

Swinging back to face her, which brought them practically nose-to-nose , as she had begun to charge after him, Killian waggled his brows insolently, making the challenge plain, even before he spoke. “Perhaps I might return them… in exchange for my watch, eh Lass?”

Jerking backwards, the impudent young woman eyed him warily for a second as if trying to gauge the true meaning of his words, to discern if he were just fishing for information, or if he really knew what she had done, and then she narrowed her pretty eyes at him, slamming a wall down over the openness he had glimpsed for a moment, allowing him to see past the scruffy interior to something more vulnearable, something (if he were even a bit more gullible) which might have seemed sweet. “Lookit Mister, don’t think that fine hat and pipe and your sharp suit gives you leave to muck about with foolish accusations. I ain’t about ta take none o’ your guff, an’ I don’ ‘ave your filthy watch, so just move on along why don’cha?”

Whether she realized she was doing it or not, the blonde had stepped right back into his space, nearly as soon as she had pulled away. The ridiculous chit actually had the pluck to act like an offended innocent, when Killian became all the more certain with each passing second that she had his pilfered watch hidden on her person even as they spoke. Her pointer finger jabbed into his chest next to the top button of his waistcoat for emphasis, and she wasn’t backing down an inch. She had fire, he would give her that; he was almost as impressed as he had initially been irked.

However, now that his challenge had been taken up, Jones felt his competitive nature roar to life within, and he intended to prove her wrong, to show her just whom she had trifled with and that he was not her average fool. He leaned forward as well, his lips nearly brushing the shell of her ear as he murmured, “Perhaps you’d allow me to search you and verify your statement?” Allowing his eyes to rove down from her face slowly before trailing back up again, his tongue poking into the inside of his cheek suggesting the sort of shameless liberties he would never actually take with a lady, no matter what her situation or social status. He might play at a bit of dashing roguishness, but he still considered himself a man of honor at his core.

Those green eyes flashed the same sort of warning color the sky out over the Thames took on when a storm was rolling in and the wise knew to run for cover; the sickening chartreuse of a deep, bruised wound and every bit as risky to provoke or fail to heed. Snatching back the finger that had been pressed against his breastbone, his beguiling nemesis raised her hand, clearly intending to strike him for his cheek - which, admittedly, he quite probably deserved - if he had not caught her wrist in a firm grasp that stalled the motion.

“Easy now, Love,” he murmured, enjoying her gumption too much to leave well enough alone. “Let’s not have you doing something we’ll both regret.”

“I am NOT your love!” she spat back, wriggling in his hold and looking livid enough to claw his eyes out if he let her free to do so. “And if you don’t unhand me…” she hissed, the threat clear now, even as a glimmer of fear also surfaced beneath the fire in her gaze. Killian had no doubt that she would follow through on whatever threat she was about to make, but that flicker and the slight quaver it allowed him to hear in her sharp voice told him she also didn’t know what might happen to her in the meantime, before she could make good on her words. And that hint of trepidation, that she didn’t know his true intentions and felt in herself in danger, quickly doused the fire he’d felt rising in his blood and his own fun in their back and forth.

Quickly, he retreated a step and released her arm, though his boxing reflexes were at the ready, knowing he might well be ducking a slap or punch in the very next moment.

To Killian’s surprise, however, the infuriating lass pulled herself up to her full height, smoothed her rather bedraggled skirts, and eyed him disdainfully as was possible under the circumstances. “Right wise choice you made there,” she snarked, huffing her annoyance as if she hadn’t been the one to start the whole debacle by picking his pocket in the first place. The very real worry he had sensed in her only seconds ago had vanished as if it were never there. “You’d be sorry had I gotten me brother on the case. He’s Chief Inspector, and he don’ take kindly to blighters like you harassing me.”

“Wait a minute now,” Killian interrupted, holding up a hand as he considered her rant, for the first time in their entire interaction feeling a bit out of the loop. “You don’t mean Chief Inspector Nolan? Of Scotland Yard?”

“The very same,” she snapped, arms crossed in front of herself. “What of it?”

Killian’s mind - rarely ever puzzled or caught by surprise, and so all the more intrigued by the seeming anomaly before him - struggled to catch up with and match this saucy baggage before him with the straight-laced knight-in-armor type he sometimes counseled in particularly complex criminal investigations. Inspector David Nolan was as by-the-book, simple and solid as they came, not by any means dense, but certainly not possessed with as cracklingly sharp wit or tongue as the angry sprite squared off before him. The Inspector had also never mentioned any family whatsoever beyond his sweet, fresh-faced wife and newborn son, but then again, it wasn’t as if they were ‘mates’ either. Jones couldn’t exactly see himself kicking back for a pint of rum with the man, even if they did tolerate each other in the name of justice from time to time. 

He was about to tell the feisty harridan before him that he didn’t bloody care who her brother was, he would be having his watch back, when she stunned him once more, her chin jutting up imperiously as she added, “What? Din’ think a street rat like me ‘ad friends in higher places, eh?”

“On the contrary, Love,” Killian countered, purposefully emphasizing the endearment he had simply used out of habit before but now meant to annoy her, as he tapped the brim of his hat in the semblance of a bow. “I think you must have some remarkable friends indeed, or someone would have taught you a lesson in manners by now.” Her mouth opened and closed, floundering for a sharp retort no doubt, but he wasn’t yet finished. “Like it or not, I know you have something of mine, and I will see it returned.”

Nearly growling in frustration, she whirled away from him, turning her back and quickly moving away with the rest of her wares.

Jones watched her go troubled, curious, and stirred all at once; a curious cocktail he hardly recognized it had been so long since last he felt it. Though he didn’t have time to stand there long before he hurried off to meet Graham and Liam, sure that he would now be the one late instead of his elder sibling.

He didn’t notice - yet one more uncharacteristic slip in his usual near-omniscient awareness - the strange rosy glow in the twilight darkness of the now deserted street where he and the flower cart thief had argued. From around the corner of a packed nearby alley, narrowed dark eyes had watched the entire encounter, tracking either Holmes or the girl with avaricious interest. The reddish light glowed brighter for an instant as the excitement of its possessor swelled, so bright that for a moment if anyone had still been present it could not have been missed. Then, the red beacon was shuttered, going out like an extinguished flame. Once more there was only a nondescript London street, and the unseen watcher off on their sinister mission, having seen what was needed, unbeknownst to those who were observed.

Tagging a few others who may enjoy: @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @hollyethecurious​ @searchingwardrobes​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @laschatzi​ @drowned-dreamer​ @aloha-4-ever​ @thisonesatellite​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @therooksshiningknight​ @snidgetsafan​ @shireness-says​

[hopeworldfan]

bubble baths

summary: your boyfriend surprises you after a long day at work.

pairing: hoseok/reader

word count: 4k+

rating: 18+

genre: fluff, smut, boyfriend!au, college!au, established relationship

warning: smut, fluff, loss of “virginity”, fingering, cunnilingus, hobi is the best boyfriend in the world.

“I said I wanted a large order of fries with this, god, how stupid can you be.”

“Yes ma’am, of course, I’ll get that fixed for you immediately.”

You were not having a good time at work to put it lightly. Working in fast food was never a walk in the park. You were on your feet for hours, being constantly degraded by customers, and juggling seventy-five different things at once. Not to mention you went home every day smelling like fried chicken and grease which was just plain gross.

However, the pay was decent, and your boss was a great guy. Not to mention that you needed the money to pay bills and put yourself through school. So, despite the burning anger you felt in your chest, you put a smile on your face and got the inconsiderate, bitchy, self-entitled lady her large order of fries even though you knew for sure she said medium.

The rest of the night wasn’t going any better. You were already tired from studying for school, chores around the house, and making the thirty-five hours a week you needed to pay all your bills, customers continued being complete assholes for no reason, and your coworkers for the shift were almost all relatively new. You tried not to get mad at them for not being better, but you were so sick of having to swoop in a save the day every five minutes.

You were on the verge of tears when you happened to glance at the front counter and saw your boyfriend standing there, a smile on his face, and an energy drink in his hand.

“Is that your boyfriend (y/n)?” One of your coworkers asked. “He’s hot! Why didn’t you tell me? Anyway, go talk to him, I’ll cover for you.”

“Thanks, Lisa, I’ll try and be quick.” You promised before taking your headset off and almost sprinting to Hoseok.

“Hey,” He laughed when you immediately wrapped your arms around him. “How’s my girl doing?”

“Not good.” You mumbled into his chest and he used his free hand to sympathetically rub your back.  

You reluctantly pulled back, not wanting your manager to see you hugging your boyfriend and fuss you. “Well, I hope this helps your night.”

“You didn’t have to do this.” You mumbled shyly, a blush on your cheeks as you grabbed the energy drink.

“I know, I did it because I wanted to,” Hoseok said with a bright smile which only intensified your blush.  

“Uhh, (y/n),” Lisa called and you sighed.

“Duty calls.” You sighed and Hoseok placed a quick kiss to your forehead that made your heart flutter.

“Text me when you’re on your way home.”

“I will.” You watched him walk out with hearts in your eyes. When you looked down at the energy drink, you noticed a sticky note attached to the sides.  

Have a good shift! Fighting!

If you looked in a mirror, you know you would see a goofy smile on your face. He was literally the sweetest guy in the world. You’d seen boyfriends bringing their girlfriends stuff at work before, but you’d never had that. You were pretty shy and introverted so you never really had a relationship before Hoseok.

The two of you had been dating for three months now and you were convinced he was the perfect guy. He was constantly showering you in compliments, always bringing you flowers and candies, and was the cuddliest guy you had ever met. You hit the lottery.

“(y/n), if you don’t get back here right now.” Right, back to reality.

Your whole body ached by the time you were walking out the doors to your job. You managed to remember to shoot your boyfriend a text before getting into your car and driving the short distance to your apartment. You couldn’t wait to shower and crawl into bed.

You were confused when you walked into your apartment and noticed a faint glow coming from your bedroom. Had you forgotten to turn your bathroom light off? After setting your keys and stuff down, you cautiously approached your room. A comforting smell reached your nose and your forehead scrunched in confusion.

Was that lavender?

Your eyes widened when you nudged open your bedroom door and saw your bed perfectly made, rose petals strewn on the sheets and leading into your bathroom.

What the fuck.

You obviously followed the trail, albeit a bit apprehensively, even though you had somewhat of an idea of what was going on.

“Surprise!” Hoseok smiled, standing in the middle of your bathroom. Your jaw dropped open when you took in the sight. Candles were placed on your counter and around your bathtub which was full, bubbles sitting on top of the steaming water with rose petals scattered on the surface. To top it off, there was a bottle of your favorite wine in your boyfriend’s hand.

“Hobi…I…” You couldn’t find words to express just what you were thinking, what you were feeling.

“I hope you don’t think it’s weird. I know we’ve only been dating a few months, but I know how stressed you are, and I wanted to do something nice, so I asked your roommate to let me in and she was all for it. Was this too much? I can’t read your reaction right now. Do you think I’m really creepy? I would understand that. Are you crying? I’m sorry-” He babbled nervously, so in lieu of words you closed the distance between the two of you and gently caressed his face before getting on your tiptoes to plant a soft kiss to his lips.

Your heart was in a puddle. No one had ever done something so thoughtful for you before and you were an emotional person so you couldn’t help the tears. It was the kind of things you saw on tv and read about in books, not something you ever thought someone would do for you.

“Sooooo, you like it?” He smiled when you pulled back from the kiss and you laughed before wiping the tears from your face.

“Yes, I like it. Thank you.” You paused for a beat, biting your lip as you considered something. “Uh, I know my bathtub is small, but, um, do you wanna…join me?”

Your eyes were on the floor and a blush was coating your cheeks. The thing was, you and Hoseok still hadn’t had sex. Lots of heavy making out, a few nudes back and forth, and his hand had been up your shirt a few times, but you were nervous. You’d never had sex before, something you were very embarrassed by considering you were a college student, an adult.  

The opportunity had just never presented itself, not that you bought into the whole ‘saving yourself for marriage’ or the whole idea of ‘virginity’ as a social construct, but you did want your first time to be with someone you trusted and cared about. It just hadn’t happened yet, but you wanted it to. With Hoseok.

“Yes!” Your boyfriend replied quickly. “I mean if you’re sure. I don’t want you to feel pressure just because I did this for you, this wasn’t a ploy to get you to sleep with me.”

Hoseok had been nothing but patient with you. You knew he had sex before, multiple times though he wouldn’t give you all the details. There was more than one occasion that you noticed the tell-tale bulge in his pants, but he was always very clear that everything would be on your terms, at your pace.

“I’m sure,” You replied, finally looking up at your boyfriend and noticing a blush on his cheeks as well. “I actually do want to bathe first though because I smell gross right now.”

Your stomach was in knots as the two of you undressed. Hoseok had never seen you fully naked before and you were more than a little insecure. Your thighs were thick, and your stomach was definitely not flat. Hoseok, on the other hand, had the body of a god. You were well aware that he was so far out of your league the two of you weren’t even playing the same sport.

As if he sensed just where your mind was going, he placed his hands on your bare shoulders and placed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. “Man, I don’t know what I did to get blessed with a girlfriend as gorgeous as you.”

As corny as it was, you blushed. “You do realize you’re going to have to do most of the work here.”

“Oh, that is the opposite of a problem” He grinned before pressing his lips against yours. It started off innocent enough, but then his hands were on your hips and his tongue was in your mouth and holy fuck you felt dizzy.

“Whoa, slow down there, cowboy.” You breathed, putting your hands on his chest to put some space between the two of you. He flexed under your fingers and you bit your lips. Your boyfriend was so fucking hot.

“Right, bath first.” He agreed and your breath caught in your throat when your eyes wandered down and saw his semi-hard cock. You’d seen it before, in pictures that is, and they hadn’t done it justice. “You staring at my cock isn’t making this any easier.”

You squeaked and instinctively buried your face in your hands at being caught. Hoseok just laughed before sinking into the bathtub first. “C’mon Jaigya, get in here before the water gets cold.”

The bathtub was small, but it seemed like just the perfect size for you to sit in between your boyfriends’ legs, your back against his chest. It was snug, but not uncomfortable.

“Look, hand me your shampoo.”  

“You don’t have to wash my hair Hobi.”

“I need to focus on something other than my super hot girlfriend sitting in front of me naked.” You couldn’t argue that logic, so you handed your boyfriend your bottle of shampoo.

You sighed when his hands began working the shampoo into your scalp. “Have I mentioned that you’re the best boyfriend in the world?”

“Not recently, no.”

“You’re the best boyfriend in the world.”

Twenty minutes later you were shampooed and conditioned, a glass of wine in your hand, and laying back against Hoseok’s chest, his arms wrapped around you. In other words, you were in heaven. Your boyfriend began pressing soft kisses along your shoulder and your stomach did a backflip.

“(y/n), can I touch you?” He asked, his breath hot against your ear. You shivered.

“Yes.” His hands moved up to cup your breasts and you let out a shaky breath when he brushed his thumbs against your nipples.

“If you ever get uncomfortable, just tell me to stop and I will,” Hoseok said seriously and you nodded.

“Okay.” His lips went back down to your shoulders, but they were hungrier this time as he licked and sucked at the base of your neck. His hands started to become rougher as he fondled your breasts, pinching your erect nipples and rolling them in his fingers.

Your breath was coming out uneven and you knew you were soaked (and not just from the bathwater). You swallowed hard when Hoseok’s hands began to move lower.

“Is this okay?” He asked, having felt your muscles tense.

You laughed nervously. “Yes, yes.  I want you to touch me Hobi, this is just all new.”

He brought one of his hands out of the water to turn your head to him so he could press his lips to yours. You whimpered against his lips when his free hand brushed against your slit. His middle finger slowly circled your clit and you whined against your boyfriends’ lips.

“Someone’s eager.” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Says the one with a boner pressed against my back.” The smirk on your face faded when he slipped a finger inside of you. “Oh god.”

Hoseok captured your lips again, nibbling on your bottom lip as he slowly pumped that one finger in and out of you, using his other hand to play with your nipples. You gasped when he slipped another finger in, breaking the kiss to lean against his chest, your head on his shoulder.

“Do you like that (y/n)?” He asked, his voice low.

“Oh god yes Hobi.” You moaned, bucking your hips against his hand. His other hand traveled down, and you whimpered when he used it to tease your clit. It didn’t take long for you to feel a familiar pressure building in your core. Fuck, your boyfriend was good with his hands. “Fuck, Hobi, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me baby.” That was all it took to push you over the edge, and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out, still aware of the fact that you had a roommate. You were breathing heavy when Hoseok removed his fingers and brought them to his face. You blushed bright red when he put them in his mouth.

“Hoseok!” You hissed, burying your face in your hands as he chuckled.

“I can’t wait to taste more.” He replied suggestively and you groaned. “C’mon let’s take this to your bed. Unless you want to fuck in your bathtub which I’m not opposed to-”

You quickly cut him off. “Oh my god let’s go.”

After drying off and making sure your door was locked –just in case-, you were awkwardly sitting on your bed.

“(y/n), relax.” Hoseok laughed and you groaned.

“I can’t! I’m nervous. You know what you’re doing here, I don’t, and I want to be good at this! You know I don’t like being bad at things!” Hoseok leaned forward, gently cupping your face and smiling at you.

“Jaigya, are you sure you’re ready for this? We can just put some clothes on and go to sleep if that’s what you want.” Your heart melted at your boyfriends’ words. You really did hit the jackpot with Hoseok.

“I want to do this Hoseok, I’m just scared you’ll be disappointed.” You confessed, unable to meet your boyfriends’ eyes. That was probably the main reason you were so hesitant to have sex with him. What if it happened and he had a really bad time and broke up with you? Not that you thought Hoseok was that kind of guy, but you couldn’t help but think about it.

“(y/n), look at me,” he started softly, and you lifted your eyes to meet his. “I promise you, I will not be disappointed here. If anything, I’m scared that you’ll be disappointed. This is your first time, and I want you to enjoy yourself, that’s a lot of pressure! If I do a bad job, then you’ll have a funny story to tell your friends over drinks and I’ll be a laughing stock!”

You laughed, feeling your nerves diminish a bit. Hoseok was good at doing that, putting your mind at ease, making you feel comfortable. “Okay, okay, fair point. And fyi, I’ll only tell like…two people if this turns out really bad.”

Your boyfriend looked absolutely destroyed and you giggled before leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. He brought one of his hands up to your face and the other to your hip as he deepened the kiss. Gently, ever so gently, he leaned you back onto your bed, nudging your legs open so he could lay in-between them as you kissed. Nerves shot through you when he felt his hard member pressed up against your stomach.

Your breaths started to become shaky when his lips moved from your mouth and began trailing down your body; starting at your jawline, your neck, your collarbones. When he took one of your nipples in his mouth, you cried out.

“Someone’s sensitive.” He teased before moving lower, pressing kisses along your stomach and then your thighs. You ached the closer he got to your center. As eager as you were for what you knew your boyfriend was about to do, you also felt a flare of panic.

You hadn’t shaved recently. If you had known what was going to happen, you would have done a little grooming, but you hadn’t been expecting it and you had been so busy lately there just hadn’t been time. And what if you smelled weird down there? What if you tasted weird?  

You quickly sat up. “Ahh, you don’t have to do that Hobi.”

He looked up at you with a quirked eyebrow. “Do you not want me to?”

You were so flustered. “It’s not that I don’t want you to I just, I haven’t shaved, and I want you to enjoy yourself too-”

“(y/n),” he cut in. “Do you have any idea how many times I jacked off while fantasizing about eating you out? This is more for me than it is for you honestly, so lean back and enjoy because I am exceptionally talented with my tongue.”

You didn’t have an argument for that, so you listened to your boyfriend. You whimpered when he pressed a soft kiss to your clit, your anticipation at an all-time high. When he finally licked from your entrance back up to your clit, tantalizingly slow, you had to press a hand against your mouth to keep from crying out.  

“You taste so good Jaigya, better than I could have imagined.” Hoseok purred and your blush intensified.

“What a charmer.” You mumbled and heard him laugh before diving right back in.

Your boyfriend wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was good with his tongue. Holy fuck. He had to pin you to the bed so you would stop moving around so much, but you couldn’t. It was his own fault for being so fucking good. With your free hand you reached down and tangled it in his hair, and you swear you heard him groan.

“Fuck Hobi, I’m gonna cum.” You moaned, feeling your second orgasm of the night begin to build. He released his hold on you to slide two fingers into your core while sucking on your clit. That was all it took to push you over the edge, and you released your hold on his hair to press both of your hands against your mouth. Your legs were trembling as he kept his lips wrapped around your clit and his fingers pumping in and out of you, riding out your orgasm.

When it was over, Hoseok sat up with a smile on his face, once again bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking your juices off them. That man was going to be the death of you.

“Hoseok, I want you.” You breathed and saw the way his eyes darkened.  

“Well, who am I to deny my girl what she wants.” He smirked before quickly getting up and fishing a condom out of his wallet, wasting no time in sliding it on and joining you back on the bed. He once against slid in-between your legs, leaning down to where his face was right in front of yours. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

You smiled despite the butterflies in your stomach. Your boyfriend was big, definitely bigger than your vibrator, but you knew he would never hurt you, and you knew the whole ‘first time hurting, hymn breaking thing’ wasn’t true at all. “I’m sure Hobi.”

He captured your lips before reaching down and grabbing his cock, positioning it at your entrance. You tensed when he began slowly entering you.

“Relax.” He breathed against your lips and you willed your body to chill the fuck out. Your walls expanded as he slowly filled you. It was mildly uncomfortable, but not even close to painful.

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes, concern written all over his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah Hobi, just give me a minute.”  

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Take all the time you need.”

It didn’t take long for you to let out a breath and smile at your boyfriend. “Okay, I’m good.”

Hoseok slowly pulled out before slowly thrusting back in.  

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You feel so good (y/n).”

Pleasure coursed throw you as he slowly rocked in and out of you. You knew he was being considerate, going slow for your sake, but you wanted more.  

“Hobi,” you started, and he stopped moving immediately.

“Did I hurt you? Shit-”

You cut him off before he could continue. “Fuck me harder. I’m not fragile, I won’t break.”

His expression went blank for a second before a mischievous smile spread across his face. “My girl wants me to fuck her harder? I can do that.”

It was like you flipped a switch in your boyfriend, not that you were complaining. His thrusts went from slow and sweet to hard and passionate. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as he pounded into you.

“Oh, fuck Hoseok.” You moaned as you clung to him for dear life.

“You like it when I fuck you rough? Like the way I’m pounding my cock into you? You’re taking my cock so nicely baby.” He panted into your ear and his dirty talking only turned you on even more. You didn’t know your sweet boyfriend was capable of saying such filthy things and you were living for it.

“You feel so good Hobi, fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer.” You cried out, raking your short nails down your boyfriend’s sweaty back. He hissed at the sensation and raised himself up so he could look you in the eyes. Your pupils were completely blown out and Hoseok swore he had never seen a more erotic sight.

“Are you going to cum for me (y/n)? Is my cock going to make you cum?”  

“Yes, yes, oh fuck yes.” You babbled almost incomprehensively as your third orgasm of the night washed over you.

“Oh fuck.” Hoseok breathed as you tightened around him. He only lasted a few more thrusts before collapsing on top of you.

“Well,” you started after catching your breath. “You don’t have to worry about me making fun of your skills in the bedroom anytime soon.”

He laughed before propping himself up on his elbows to smile down at you. “That’s good to hear.”

He pressed a tender kiss to your lips before slipping out of you and getting up to dispose of the used condom. You followed behind him to pee before grabbing his t-shirt from your floor and slipping it on and crawling into bed. He joined you and opened his arms so you could cuddle up to his chest and he could hold you.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, the rumble of his chest causing you to blush.

“Good,” you said before giggling. “More than good.”

His grip around you tightened and your heart skipped a beat when he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I didn’t mean to get that rough with you before having a proper talk about it. We’ll need to set rules and boundaries.

You turned to look at him with a quirked eyebrow and he looked a little sheepish. “Hobi, I wanted you to be rough with me, I explicitly told you that.”

“I know, but our definitions of rough aren’t the same. For you, that was rough, but for me, that was a bit vanilla. I made sure to hold myself back.” He explained and your eyes widened so he hurriedly continued. “And that is why it’s something we need to talk about. I know what I like because I’ve had experiences. You haven’t and that’s okay, we can figure it out together.”

You felt a pang of fear course through you. “But what if we don’t like the same things Hobi?”

“Then that’s something we’ll figure out if it occurs, but I like you and that’s the really important part.” He smiled and you pressed a chaste kiss to his jawline before resting your head on his chest.

“I like you too.” You said softly and your boyfriend chuckled.

[cobraonthecob]

Date Flowers

So I finally get around to posting this, a week late, but here is my Lukanette Exchange fic! This one is for @thenovelartist, I’m so sorry that my fic is late by a few days.

@lukanette-exchange, here I am, yip yip. Ao3 link will be in the reblog.

The requirements were: Fluff is required, otherwise, open to anything: AU, aged-up, I like

Excludes: No angst (like, drama and tension okay, but don’t make the whole thing angsty)

So hopefully I did it justice!

Also, I wrote this before I found out the Snake’s powers in-show, and then I said “Nope, not in this fic. I’m keeping it to Hypnotize.”

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

She brings a hand made cloth flower to each date.

At first it was small and plain, but each date, it got bigger and bigger, more complex each date.

He made a garden arrangement in his living room, the smaller, simpler ones at the edges with the larger and more ornate ones in the center. 

Five years of dates, Luka thought as he stared at the floral arrangement. He had no idea where he was going to put any new flowers, he wanted to keep the flowers as private as possible. 

This time, they were going to celebrate her twenty-third birthday. He nervously thumbed the ring box, before putting it into his pocket. He drove over to her apartment, and his jaw dropped as she walked towards his car.

Her qipao went from dark blue to purple, with a faint hint of a reddish hue at the hem. Silver dots - stars, Luka realized, formed constellations in the fabric. The qipao was sleeveless, her arm muscles too large for a normal sleeve, and she probably didn’t have enough fabric for a sleeve anyways. Besides, she liked sleeveless dresses, keeps the creeps away, she says. Her upper arms were adorned with silver bracelets in the shape of snakes, one had green-blue eyes, the other red. A black bracelet - from their first date - was on her left wrist. Her hair was down, grown out to mid-shoulder blade after two years of a pixie cut. In her hands was a massive red flower, the stem beautiful and long. Luka scrambled to open the door for her.

“You take my breath away,” Luka murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheeks in greeting. Marinette did the same. 

“For you, love,” Marinette said, holding the flower out. Luka took it in both hands and nearly fainted from the sheer detail. The petals alternated between red and pink, some shades lighter or darker.

“You are absolutely amazing, I wish I had a gift that could compare to this,” Luka said, finding his words. Technically, I do have something that could compare but I had help to make it. 

“You don’t need to. It’s something I like to do.” Marinette said. Luka smiled, and gestures for her to get in the car. Marinette obliged.

<>-<>-<>-<>

“Thanks for the dinner, Luka,” Marinette said, as they got into Luka’s apartment. Luka grinned, and picked up his guitar.

“Your birthday’s not over yet,” Luka said, beginning to strum his guitar, briefly playing her heart song. Marinette raises a brow.

“Oh?” 

“You might as well had the Snake Miraculous, you hypnotized me with your art,” Luka began to sing. 

“Sass helped you, didn’t he?” Luka shrugged, and gestured that he had a little bit of help with the words.

“You are the love and the light of my life, and I will always listen to your singing heart,” Luka continued, “For it brings me joy and happiness to hear you happy, and I love you even when the days have you snappy. I’ll love you forever, if you’ll have me, and even if you don’t, I still will. You taught me the greatest and purest form of love, from the battles to just standing still. And you, whether you’re Marinette or Ladybug, I will stand by your side, as Luka and Viperion, and I’ll do so even if the world ends. I sing this from my heart, with the most sincere melody that is you, I’ll love you forever if you’ll have me…”

“Always, Luper,” Marinette said, leaning in for a kiss. 

“I’m not done,” Luka said, “for I, Luka Couffaine, wielder of the Snake Miraculous ask one Marinette Dupain-Chang, wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous, will you marry me?” Luka set aside his guitar and pulled out the ring box, presenting the ring. 

“YES!” Marinette practically shrieked, launching herself at Luka, nearly taking him to the ground. Momentarily forgetting the ring, Marinette kissed Luka, joy rushing through her body. Luka pulled away, panting.

“The ring,” Luka gasped. Marinette chuckled.

“Sorry,” Marinette said, her hand reaching out as Luka put the ring on her finger. 

“I love you, high energy and all,” Luka murmured, going back for another kiss. 

“And I love you for everything,” Marinette murmured, then closed the gap between the two.

<>-<>-<>-<>

Her wedding dress is white with pinkish tones, flowing, sleeveless, and in the light, sparkle due to the hidden stars she sewed in. In short, she was drop-dead gorgeous. 

The wedding is just as beautiful as the bride, and the entire venue radiates enough joy to power the entirety of France, if such a thing were possible. Compliments and well-wishes poured onto the new Dupain-Cheng couple, as Juleka threw a smile from across the room every time Luka’s new last name was said. He and Marinette jumped back onto the dance floor, the music surging in his veins, a siren to dance with his wife. Couples swirled around him, but Luka didn’t care about them. He only had eyes for Marinette.

“Mr. Dupain-Cheng,” Marinette teased, dropping into the most faux reporter voice she could manage and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “How does it feel to take on your wife’s last name instead of traditionally keeping your last name and hers changing?”

“The best decision ever, since the only other option we thought of was to go with ‘Couffaine-Dupain-Cheng - “

“Bullies would have a difficult time,” Marinette noted. 

“Oh my goodness, last-name-only-basis-bullies. No wonder why you’re such a great Ladybug. You think of every possibility.” Luka whispers so that no one else could hear, but before Marinette could respond, the music changed for something with a faster tempo, and Luka couldn’t help but roll along with it, he and Marinette danced in sync, moving together effortlessly. The crowd’s hoarse from cheering them on all day, but they cheer nonetheless. Sass and Tikki enjoyed watching the festivities from afar, their chosens moving with each other. A dance floor isn’t so different from a battlefield after all.

<>-<>-<>-<>

Ladybug and Viperion were on patrol that night. Chat couldn’t make it, said that he would be too tired from his day job. The others mentioned a big event that day as well, and big days the next day. Ladybug and Viperion thus decided to step up, enjoy Paris as newlyweds and hope that an akuma wouldn’t attack that night. They rendezvoused at the Eiffel Tower ten minutes before midnight, one last look at the night Parisian skyline before heading home. 

“I never did ask how Queen Bee fought in those high heels,” Ladybug said from her perch, massaging her feet. 

“She was never one for practical battle outfits,” Viperion commented. Ladybug shrugged, then scooted herself across the beam to spoon with Viperion.

“Think this is safe?” Ladybug asked. Viperion glanced down at her.

“We’re the heroes of Paris, we can do this. I can sit here all night, considering I have a Ladybug on my lap. It’d be bad luck to remove her.” Viperion teased. Ladybug gave a fake gasp.

“I’d say it’d be bad luck to offend Lady Luck,” Ladybug responded, but remained where she lay, grinning at her husband. 

“How would you feel if Falena released an akuma tonight?” Viperion asked. Ladybug rolled her eyes.

“I’d snap her neck myself,” Ladybug growled, “Because it’s our wedding night, and all I want to do is be with you. So sue me for being selfish on wanting to be with the ones I love.” 

“I’ll be right beside you if that happens. Ready to head home?” Viperion asked. Ladybug sighed, then pulled herself up.

“I’ll race you home,” Ladybug said.

“Not fair, you have the yo-yo,” Viperion mock-protested. 

“Fine, I’ll carry you bridal-style across Paris,” Ladybug said.

“Please do. Broadcast to Paris that we’re married.” Viperion said.

“You’re on,” Ladybug said. She and Viperion leaped off, Ladybug’s yo-yo snagging onto something so they could swing around as she grabbed him out of the air. Whooping, the couple swung onto a rooftop, Ladybug easily running across the rooftops, Viperion moving his body so that he was balanced and so that she could see. Easily, they dropped onto their balcony, making sure no one saw the heroes of Paris before making their way inside. 

“Sass, scales rest,” Viperion said, opening the fridge as soon as Sass came out from the bracelet. Luka quickly put the small plate of chicken into the microwave, Sass eagerly waiting for his food.

“Tikki, spots off,” Ladybug said, Tikki dropped out of one of the earrings, and eagerly dove into the plate of cookies that they left.

“Good night, Sass,” Luka said as the microwave dinged and Luka pulled the chicken out for Sass. Sass mumbled good night back, mouth full of chicken. 

“‘Night, Tikki,” Marinette said, gently kissing the kwami. 

“Good night, you two,” Tikki said, smiling. Smiling, Luka and Marinette left the kitchen and into the darkness of their bedroom.

“A rarity, a Snake and a Ladybug,” Sass observes from his plate. Tikki smiles.

“The Black Cat and Ladybug don’t always have to be together. Sometimes they work as platonic friends. Other times, the relationship fails completely. Ladybug and Chat Noir are lucky - they get to be friends even after all these years.” Tikki says, then drifts over to Sass.

“In this day and age, love and life are easier,” Sass muses, a note of sadness in his voice. Tikki pats his back gently, as both kwamis thought of their past holders who more or less martyred themselves; such as the more well-known Joan of Arc and the lesser known Snake holders during World War II, making the ultimate sacrifices that never failed to bring the kwamis to tears. 

“Indeed they are. After all, how often is it that you get Music and Creation together?” Tikki asked.

“Don’t remember the last time that happened,” Sass said, “Shall we celebrate with the other kwamis?” Tikki giggled.

“Of course!” Tikki said, swiftly darting out the apartment, Sass hot on her heels, “Race you!”

“You’re on!” Sass hissed playfully, and the two kwamis darted into the night, to celebrate with their fellow kwamis, as their holders slept, holding each other close.

[remasteredinnuendo]

Blue Bayou: Part II

Synopsis: Ben is nervous as he prepares for Bohemian Rhapsody. But just as he thinks nerves will get the best of him, he’s introduced to a woman who might just be the muse he needs. Inspired by the song Blue Bayou by Linda Ronstadt

Warnings:  NONE

Info: I really enjoy writing this story so far. I’d love to have some feedback!

Part II:

There was pure magic in the air, dispensed like candy. And they were all eating it up. Something about the performance had been so intimate that Ben felt flushed. Like he had walked in on something he wasn’t supposed to see. And even though he was the furthest away from the woman as she exited the sound booth, he felt like he was invading her privacy.

His cheeks were hot as fire and his palms were sweating. He forced himself to keep his arms crossed. Just in case he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her. This stranger of a woman.

“It wasn’t good enough,” she murmured, striding toward their little group.

The voice that came from her was as soft as an evening tide. But her emotions were not completely concealed on her marble-like face. There was pain, in the crease of her heavy brow and the restless curve of her lips.

Her eyes showed the soul inside of her. They were a deep well of restless night, an ocean of grief. And as he met her gaze for a single, unnerving second, Ben knew there was nothing on this earth that could compete with one thing he saw there: passion.

“It was heavenly, I assure you,” Brian said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. It was a touch that was familiar. Like they had known each other for years. Maybe they had.

Roger moved swiftly and wrapped her in an embrace. They clung tightly to one another, for a moment, and then pulled away just enough for the rest of them to see. Her eyes roved their faces, and the passion turned into fiery determination. And there, Ben read clearly that she would fight to the very last tear for what she had just been doing.

It made her intimidating.

“Gentlemen, and my fair lady,” Brian said, nodding to Lucy— who was sniffling in the corner and composing herself from the performance— “we’d like to introduce you to Emmanuelle Mercury.” 

“As in—?” Joe nearly choked, unable to continue the question.

Roger nodded with pride, and pressed a kiss to the woman’s temple. “Freddie’s darling daughter.”

The drummer said it so matter-of-factly that it made them all nervous. For a few long, silent seconds, they all waited for the two rock stars to burst out laughing. To tell them it was a joke and then introduce her properly. But that relief never came.

Ben uncrossed his arms as curiosity began to overwhelm his confusion. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans, ridding himself of the sweat from his palms. He stared at the woman. She definitely had olive skin, and her brows were thick and straight. Her nose was ever so slightly crooked, to the point of unnoticeable unless someone was looking for a flaw— and it reminded him of all the photos he had seen of the great Freddie Mercury.

History had never written about a family. There were his parents and his sister, and documentation of a great many cats, many friends, and even a husband— but no children. Yet no matter how hard Ben tried to eliminate every single possibility, he couldn’t come up with a version of a world where there wasn’t a chance.

“Freddie had a daughter?” Rami asked, voicing everyone’s shared question. His face was paler than before at the thought of standing next to someone so precious.

They all leaned forward as Roger nodded. “She was born the year Freddie died, and has been the band’s best kept secret. Next to John, of course.”

“You can all just call me Emmy,” the woman finally spoke, reaching her hand out to the main actor in the room. “And before anyone wonders, it was surrogacy. Freddie wanted to give Jim something they had always wanted, so….here I am.”

There it was, out there in the open. A secret that was no longer a secret to them, but still one to the rest of the world. The press would have had a field day if they had ever gotten wind of Freddie’s secret child with his secret husband. Yet they never did get the chance to write appalling stories about her existence.

After all these years, with all the scrutiny and worldwide coverage of Queen, and not once had Ben ever heard of her. It was almost too much to think about. He had been worried about getting the portrayal of Roger as precisely correct as possibly for the film, and now he found himself desperate to impress her, too.

Emmy.

Such a pretty name for such a pretty flower.

“Blue Bayou was one of Freddie’s favourite songs from the seventies,” Brian spoke up. “We wanted a version of it in the movie, perhaps for the credits or somewhere in the beginning— and we thought there would be no one better suited to sing it than, her.”

The daughter of Freddie Mercury and Jim Hutton, working on a part of their film. They were supposed to be bringing the story of this woman’s father to life. To breathe air into lungs that were no longer breathing, and to lift a legacy that was already as tall as the sky itself. It was a monumental task. One that could make any brave actor sick with fear. And that was happening to them all right now.

Emmy frowned, distorting her lovely features. “I want to try it again. I don’t think I’m doing it justice.”

“Darling,” Roger said in a quiet voice, as though wanting to be careful to not say the wrong thing. “You’ve been recording all day. What we just heard would make angels weep.”

“Freddie would be proud at the way it sounded,” Joe agreed, nodding his head enthusiastically.

When she looked to him and smiled warmly, Ben inwardly kicked himself for being unable to find his voice. Her presence alone held him like pins to a butterfly’s wings on a corkboard. It had done exactly that the moment he had laid eyes on her. And he knew in an instant that if she came in a bottle, he would drink until he could no longer see and his keys were forcibly taken away.

Brian sighed. “If you truly disagree, there’s always tomorrow. We were going to take Lucy and the boys to the office in the back and show them some photographs anyway. You should come along.”

There was hesitation in Emmy’s eyes as she contemplated her answer. Ben watched her carefully, hoping not to get caught staring. He couldn’t help it. In thought, she bit down on her bottom lip and tilted her head ever so slightly back. Like she was daring anyone in the room to further persuade her. He wanted to be that anyone.

“We could do with some new company,” Ben bravely stated, softening his mouth into a smirk as he tried to recover his usual levelheadedness. “My friends here won’t stop geeking out, so a mediator would be nice.”

Her eyes brightened and she looked at him. Finally, really looked at him. And smiled like a metaphor he had been trying for years to jot down. “Roger and Brian can sometimes be awe-inspiring, I agree.” She paused, and then nodded her head firmly. “All right. I’ll come along.”

Ben opened the door to the recording room and was the first to step into the hall. Roger and Brian continued to lead the way, turning a corner with everyone in pursuit. Well, almost everyone.

Emmy was the last to trail after them, and quickly fell into step alongside Ben. He found himself looking at her from the corner of his eye, making sure not to walk ahead. He didn’t want to miss anything about her.

And the thought he couldn’t get out of his head as they approached the back office was simple:

Cupid is fucking irresponsible.

[winchesterandpie]

Flowers or Stars? (Thor Odinson x reader)

Pairing: Thor Odinson x Insecure!Reader

Word Count: 3135 (got a bit carried away… oops)

Warnings: Self-hate, fluffy Thor

A/N: Well, this is before Dark World because Frigga is still alive. Sorry if it’s not so great, I didn’t have anyone who could edit for me today. Anyways, I figure there’s never enough sweet Thor cheering us up, so here’s a little bit more for the universe! Y’all are all beautiful in your different ways, and I really hope you can see that! Love you all! Gif is not mine! As always, feedback is welcomed with open arms!! Y’all are the best!

“Ahh, Asgard. It is good to be home,” Thor said, relaxing as we stepped onto the Bifröst.

“I can imagine. I can’t wait to see it!” Naturally, I was just the tiniest bit excited to see my boyfriend’s homeworld.

“And I cannot wait to show it all to you.” There was such love in his eyes as he looked at me that I could not resist tugging him down into a gentle kiss. Pulling away, he rested his forehead on mine. “There will be plenty of time for kisses, my love. But first, there will be a great feast to welcome us. We must make haste to prepare.” A pair of fine horses were tethered outside Heimdall’s Observatory, saddled in preparation for our arrival.

“Well, best not to keep them waiting.” I easily vaulted onto the bay horse, while Thor mounted the black steed. “Last one to the end of the Bifröst is a rotten egg!” Without waiting for him to be fully balanced, I tapped my heels to the mare’s sides and she shot away like an arrow from a bow.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw him several horse-lengths behind me, not gaining any ground, and we were maybe thirty meters from the gates of Asgard itself. Once past them, I slowed to wait for Thor while laughing breathlessly.

“Milady, you have bested me in that race. As victor, what spoils would you claim?” He came up alongside me, the horses’ height match putting us at our usual height difference.

“Hmmm… What do I want?” I paused, pretending to think about it for a moment. “I believe, my dear, that I would like a kiss.” Cliche? Yes. Cheesy? Most definitely. But did I care? Nah. With a grin, he complied, leaning down to meet my lips with his own.

“We really must be going now,” he murmured as we parted. “I’m sure Mother has a splendid gown you can borrow.” Oh. Right. I’d quite forgotten that I was going to have to wear a dress. Wonderful… Now I only had to hope that Frigga had one that would fit me. As Thor and I set the horses to continue at an easy trot toward the palace, I couldn’t help but worry that she wouldn’t.

See, despite being an Avenger who worked out almost every day, my thigh still touched and I was… bigger than I would have liked. Don’t get me wrong, I was excited to be in Asgard with Thor, but I had some doubts about how I would compare to women here. Thankfully, Thor either didn’t notice or didn’t remark on my sudden, out-of-character silence (most likely the latter. He was more observant than people seemed to think).

Making our way through the palace was a fairly easy journey, arm in arm with Thor until we found his mother, Frigga. She looked absolutely stunning in a green dress, and I curtseyed before her awkwardly when Thor introduced me. Internally I cursed my lack of grace off the battlefield, though externally I was (I hoped) all gracious smiles as she looked me up and down.

“I must say, it is a pleasure to meet you at last, lady Y/N. Thor has gone on about you so much, but without seeing you, we were starting to wonder if he had simply made up his perfect woman.” I chuckled at that, warming up to Frigga immediately. “Now I know he hasn’t even done you justice.”

“You are too kind.” I ducked my head bashfully, mostly to hide my blush.

“Well, I believe I have just the dress for you to wear tonight. Come, my dear.” One last, reassuring smile from Thor, and I was following the Queen through the palace. I just did the best I could to keep up while avoiding paying too much attention. Nonetheless, I automatically registered my surroundings, and when I did I noticed several Asgardian women, each of them skinnier and prettier than me. Eventually, we made our way into the Queen’s suite, where I could see that she had a deep blue dress lying on the bed.

Frigga moved to pick it up, and I had most definitely been mistaken. It was not simply blue - rather it had purples woven throughout it, sparkles dotting it, and to be entirely honest it looked like a galaxy spun into a dress. To say I was in awe would be a massive understatement.

“Try it on, then! That’s the dressing chamber there,” she said, handing the dress to me as she pointed towards a door in corner of the room. There were several full length mirrors along the walls as well as a gilded vanity with a cushion. I didn’t dare look at the mirrors while I slipped into the dress.

Once my hair and makeup had been done - some Asgardian magic was definitely involved in that - I had to face the music. Or in this case, the mirror.

Turning hesitantly, I brought my gaze up to see the mirror. Looking up and down myself, I wondered whose reflection I was staring at. Despite it being the dress I had on, this creature had to be a full blooded Asgardian. That was simply the only way to explain the flawlessly smooth skin, and the perfectly curled hair that framed her face neatly.

As I continued to stare, however, I realized it had to be me. At first, it was just the eyes that gave it away, but that was only the beginning. Gradually, I noticed how, if I didn’t have my stomach sucked in just right, I looked like the early stages of a pregnancy with a food baby, no doubt. My arms were a little too big around to match the elegance of the dress.

Nonetheless, I played it off as shock and awe at the dress as I returned to the room and found Thor waiting with his mother, and thought I had Frigga convinced. Thor was even more polished than usual, though as stunning as ever (Who are we kidding? He could pull off just about anything), although his eyes widened at the sight of me. Good? Bad? Which surprise is this? I wondered to myself.

“My darling, you are as stunning as the stars themselves.” Good surprise, apparently. I grinned and stepped toward him as he offered an arm to me.

“Well, if I am as stunning as the stars, which I doubt,” He chuckled, assuming this to be nothing more than my usual self-deprecating humour since I was grinning, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes, “then you could outshine the sun.” Looking absolutely giddy, he leaned down to kiss me for a long moment.

“As much as I wish to continue this, we cannot miss our own feast, my love.” He pulled away to rest his forehead against mine. As my breathing evened out, I nodded with a more genuine smile and we were off again. Too soon, we were standing in front of the doors of the banquet hall, just waiting to be announced before entering.

“Presenting his Majesty, Thor Odinson, accompanied by a Hero of Earth, Y/N L/N.” At the announcement, the doors before us opened, and we walked through together. I had thought that all eyes would be on Thor, but they were on me. Everyone was curious about what earthling Thor had brought up to the magnificent realm of Asgard. My head was full of a whirlwind of the potential things they could be thinking - “She’s a bit big to take his fancy, isn’t she?” “A hero, huh? She doesn’t look like one,” “Even in a dress she looks like she’s trying too hard.” I hoped that outwardly I was maintaining a confident, smiling persona as we walked to our seats toward the head of the table.

There was so much food spread out on the table, and my self-conscious thoughts were forgotten in my new need to try as many of the dishes as I could. Eagerly, I served up a plateful of the foods before remembering that I was supposed to be refined. I slowed down, trying to eat as politely as possible.

I had been right about the food - each thing I tried seemed better than the last, and soon I was stuffed completely full. The dinner had been full of boisterous laughter from the men, while the women seemed poised and refined. Several of the people sitting around us had involved me in the conversation gracefully - the warriors asking about my favorite weapons and battle strategies, and I impressed them more than once with my humor as well as tales of my skill on the battlefield. The women tended to ask more about how I kept my appearance up with everything, and my honest answer was that I had decided to stop caring so much, because I simply didn’t have the energy for it.

“Can’t you tell she stopped caring? I could see it from the moment she walked in.” I heard the muttered comment, but it seemed no one else had. I refused to give the woman the satisfaction of knowing how much her comment stung, but inside I was ready to run back down the Bifröst.

After that comment, I could hear a torrent of other mutterings of a similar nature. Whether they came from my own mind to torment me, or from those at the table I wasn’t sure, but I knew that I heard them.

Before dessert had even been brought to the table, I could stand it no longer. Politely, I excused myself, claiming to be tired from the trip through the Bifröst. Thor explained that it was normal, and I told him not to worry and to keep enjoying the party. As gracefully and as quickly as I could manage, I left the room and headed for anywhere I could be alone.

I wandered through the halls for several long minutes, trying not to trip over my skirt as well as to maintain my composure, before I finally found a door that led to the gardens. Thor had told me that he would sometimes go to think there, because very rarely was anyone else in them. Alone at last, I sank onto a bench, my shoulders slumping as I rested my face in my hands.

My usual negative thoughts grew to a great roar in my own mind, louder than the fountain in front of me. I couldn’t push them out of my head no matter how hard I tried, and with them the tears started to leak out against my will.

Who are you to think that you could be with someone like him?

It was just too good to be true.

He probably just felt bad for you.

How do you compare to him?

You don’t have powers.

You’re not fast enough.

Or strong enough.

Or slim enough.

Or brave enough.

You’re just not enough for anyone, let alone for Thor.

And that was what it came down to. All my life I’d been terrified that no one would ever find me to be enough. Now, I knew that I wasn’t enough for Thor, and that was why I hadn’t told him about my lack of self-esteem. How could a god like him ever want to be with someone who couldn’t keep up their self-image, even a little bit? I was sure that if I told him, he would laugh and say he’d been waiting for me to realize it.. Being alone with my thoughts had not done very much good.

The sun had been starting to set when I’d arrived in the garden, painting the sky in brilliant hues that I couldn’t appreciate through my tears. In fact, it had seemed to mock me. Now, the sun had set, and the stars were scattered across the sky’s canvas. I half hoped that Thor would come looking for me, and half didn’t want him to find me.

It wasn’t long after the stars came out that Thor found me. He knelt in front of me, gently bringing my face up from my hands.

“My darling, who has caused this?” His voice was soft and reassuring, but I couldn’t get words past the lump in my throat as the tears resurfaced. He brushed the first few tears away, but as they continued to fall, he sat beside me and pulled me into his lap in a tight embrace. One hand moved soothingly up and down my back as I tried to get my emotions under control, the other rested at the back of my head, holding me to his chest.

“Not really anyone in particular…” I mumbled with a shrug. I wasn’t technically lying. These were the same insecurities I’d felt for as long as I could remember, so if anyone caused it, it was probably me.

“Then what caused this?” His voice stayed gentle, but it was clear he wasn’t going to drop the matter until I told him. When he pulled back so that his blue eyes met my tear-filled ones, it was the final straw. The warmth and concern in his eyes gently prompted me to trust him with this struggle I’d been hiding.

“I’m just… I’m not…” I swallowed hard, trying to form a coherent sentence. “I’m not enough!”

“Enough of what, love?” Thor’s confusion showed on his face - the expression from Earth apparently didn’t translate to Asgardian..

“Pretty enough, strong enough, skinny enough… just... not good enough.”

“Why do you feel that way?” He asked carefully, trying to understand. There was a long moment as I tried to find words to put to my feelings.

“Honestly? I… I dunno, really. I mean, you’re just so… amazing… but I’ve felt like this since long before I met you…” I trailed off, unsure of why I was so insecure.

“And just what is it that you’re trying to measure up to?”

“Perfection, I guess,” I replied weakly, knowing full well that it was irrational. Thor chuckled softly at my answer, pulling me back against his chest and resting his head atop mine.

“Love, if you are as far from perfect as you believe, then the rest of us have no hope at achieving it.” We simply sat together for a long moment. My tears had stopped, but the aching inside my heart had yet to be assuaged. “Walk with me for a moment, would you?” When I nodded, he set me on my feet before standing and taking my hand. We made our way through the gardens, with the gentle swish of my dress and his cape the only sounds in the peaceful night. After several minutes of strolling through, we came to a stop.

“What do you see here?”

“Lots of flowers, I guess.” He grinned at that before moving closer to the flowers, pulling me along with him.

“Look harder,” he encouraged. I tried, I really did. But all I could see were various flowers whose names I didn’t know.  Thor seemed to sense my growing frustration and pointed out one flower in particular. “Describe this one to me.”

“Well… It’s got round petals… it’s gold and glowing… Umm… It has little veins of purple and it’s pretty flat.”

“Yes, now what about this one?” he asked, pointing out another.

“It’s blue, like your eyes… and it’s got darker blue veins in it… ummm… It’s got lots of small petals and it’s smaller than the last one.” I was getting a little frustrated again as Thor moved to point at yet another flower. “Ok, what’s the point of this, Thor?”

“Just trust me for a moment, Y/N. Please?” I nodded slightly in response, and he pointed out a large bloom to me.

“This one is orangey-red… kinda like a fire. It’s got little spots all over it. The petals are kinda glowing a bit… It’s only got 5 petals and they curve down.” I trailed off as I noticed Thor looking at me, his eyes soft. “What?”

“This one is my favorite in the whole of the nine realms. It reminds me of you,” he said quietly, bringing my hand up so he could kiss my knuckles. “Now, look at them all again. How many different flowers do you see in this patch?”

“More than I could count…”

“And they’re all stunningly beautiful, aren’t they?” It was certainly a beautiful sight - There were countless different flowers in this garden, from exotic species to ones I could find at home, from soft purples and blues to bright reds, in every shape and size imaginable. All I could do was nod, caught in the beauty of the flowers.

“Now look up - look at the stars.” I obeyed and found myself in awe of the galaxies above us. “They are beautiful as well. Yet do they look anything like these flowers?”

“No…” I murmured softly. He turned to face me, taking my face in his hands softly.

“Beloved, you may think that you fail to compare to those around you, and you would be correct. What you miss, however, is that you don’t need to. In the same way that a star need not compare to a flower, or one flower to another, you need not be the same as those you are surrounded by. You are not the same, and I don’t wish for you to be for you are the one I need at my side. I don’t need or want any Asgardian flower, or any other Midgardian flower.  Y/N, my flower, my star, my love… I could not imagine life without you.”

Thor was not one for grandiloquent speeches, and not usually one for discussing feelings… but this… this was his heart, plain and simple. It warmed me from the inside of my soul, and I moved to cover his hands with my smaller ones. I felt a couple of tears escape my eyes, not from sadness this time, but rather from immense gratitude and love for this man in front of me.

He gently swept away the few tears that fell before pressing a kiss to my forehead. When he pulled away only to rest his forehead on mine, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, surrounded by his comforting scent. He was right - there was no need to compare myself. I didn’t need to be absolutely perfect right now.

Would that stop my thoughts all at once? No, and I knew that. I knew that there were still dark days that lay ahead, still days where I wouldn’t be able to look in the mirror, still days where I would need reassurance.  But right then, in Thor’s arms, I knew that I would never be alone in those days.

“Thank you,” I murmured quietly, “for staying, and for helping me see. There’s no one else I’d rather have at my side.”

@jezzula

Forever Tags:

@riddikulus-obsessions @addictionmarvel @peppermint--teas @angel-with-broken-wings @mercedesbarnes @javapeach

Tag list is open - just send me an ask or a message! 

Thanks for reading!! Hope you enjoyed!

[huhnerhexen]

all for the other ask set!

I just took my painkillers, so I'm really high and I'm sorry if this makes no sense, I'm trying my best...

1. Are looks important in a relationship?

- yes, but they're not the most important thing. I can look past appearance, but if you're ugly on the inside it'll never work

2. Are relationships ever worth it?

- theyre worth it every time! Even if they fail, you learn a lot about yourself and they change you for the better

3. Are you a virgin?

- no

4. Are you in a relationship?

- no, my partner of about three years and I broke up a month ago

5. Are you in love?

- I'm in love with myself, which is more than I can say when I was in that relationship

6. Are you single this year?

- yes

7. Can you commit to one person?

- yes; I'm like a penguin... I mate for life

8. Describe your crush

- that's easy, I don't have one

9. Describe your perfect mate

- soft and sweet, generous, respectful of my boundaries, openly communicative, like my grandpa!

10. Do you believe in love at first sight?

- no

11. Do you ever want to get married?

- yes

12. Do you forgive betrayal?

- in time and with an apology, of course

13. Do you get jealous easily?

- I used to, but I've done a lot of work since then and I don't anymore

14. Do you have a crush on anyone?

- other than myself? no

15. Do you have any piercings?

- I have a nose ring, my septum pierced, 3 earrings in my right ear, and two in my left

16. Do you have any tattoos?

- 11; a bumble bee, a cat drinking wine, my rat's footprint, my grandma's signature, a sloth, the pisces constellation, the aurora borealis constellation, squirrel nutkin, my grandpa's signature, Snufkin and Moomin, and a lavender sprig

17. Do you like kissing in public?

- a quick peck doesn't bother me, but keep your tongue in your own mouth

There is no 18 or 19 in this series of questions??

20. Do you shower everyday?

- I've been bathing more than showering lately, but I do wash everyday

21. Do you think someone has feelings for you?

- I don't, but that's none of my business anyways

22. Do you think someone is thinking of you right now?

- no, I don't think so

23. Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months and not cheat?

- obviously, I did that for 3 years. I don't cheat, it's wrong and it fucks people up

24. Do you think you'll be married in five years?

- maybe? I haven't given it much thought tbh

25. Do you want to be in a relationship this year?

- no

26. Has anyone told you they don't want to ever lose you?

- yes, and then they did

27. Has someone ever written a song or poem for you?

- no

28. Have you ever been cheated on?

- not that I am aware of

29. Have you ever cheated on someone?

- no, I would never

30. Have you ever considered plastic surgery? If so, what would you change about your body?

- I've had plastic surgery twice; once in the ninth grade to fix me jaw, and two days ago I had top surgery

31. Have you ever cried over a guy or girl?

- yes, and what a waste of time that was

32. Have you ever experienced unrequited love?

- no

33. Have you ever had sex with a man?

- yes

34. Have you ever had sex with a woman?

- no

35. Have you ever kissed someone older than you?

-yes

36. Have you ever liked one of your best friends?

- yes

37. Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated?

- yes

38. Have you ever liked someone you didn't expect to?

- yes

39. Have you ever waved someone you couldn't have?

- yes

40. Have you ever written a song or poem for someone?

- yes

41. Have you had sex so far this year?

- yes

42. How long can you just kiss until your hands start to wander?

- depends on the person, but awhile, I really like kissing

43. How long was your longest relationship?

- almost 3 years

44. How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had?

- I've had 6 partners

45. How many people did you kiss in 2012/2013?

- I can say with 100% certainty that I have no idea; I can't even remember what I had for breakfast this morning

46. How many times did you have sex last year?

- I don't know, sex isn't something I count

47. How old are you?

- 21

48. If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say?

- I'd ask them why, people love to talk about their crushes, I'd also encourage them to go after it. Just because I like someone doesn't make them mine

49. If you have a partner, what is your favourite thing about them?

- I don't have a partner

50. If your first true love knocked on your door with am apology and presents, would you accept?

- no, not yet. I'm not at a place to forgive Kai yet. I'm still working through and breaking down what they did to me

51. Is there someone you would do absolutely anything for?

- yea, my grandma

52. Is there anyone you've given up on? Why?

- I gave up on my dad's dad, Lane; he's just a genuinely awful guy and every time I've tried to extend an olive branch it's come back to bite me in the ass. He can be angry and miserable alone, I don't have room for that shit in my life.

53. Is there someone mad because you're seeing/talking to the person that you are?

- no, the people in my life are incredibly supportive of me in all my endeavors and decisions

54. Is there something you will never forget?

- what a classmate and friend wrote to my mom once when she was compiling a big note full of all the reasons people care about me. "There's nothing they could ever do that would be bad". Those words have been etched onto my heart for 6 years

55. Share a relationship story

- I'll tell you about my grandparents, and how they were made for each other. My grandpa worked for CBC and so did my grandma, but they worked in separate buildings, and one night my grandma's friend says "Elaine, come out for drinks with me and some of the guys" and my grandma really doesn't want to, but she's a polite lady so she does anyways. She winds up sitting next to my grandpa, and they don't say much to each other but his friends keep bugging him and making jokes about how he needs to "get home to his wife" (he isn't married, but he fancies my grandma and his friends are just trying to make him work harder for her). They wind up leaving at the same time, and they walk home together because they lived a couple buildings away from one another. My grandpa assures my grandma that he isn't married, he tells her he's going home to Red Jacket, Saskatchewan for Christmas, but could he give her a call when he comes home? She says yes; and a year later they were married. They've been madly in love with each other ever since.

56. State 8 facts about your body.

- I have 8 less teeth than the average adult; my eyes are two different shapes; when I learned to walk it was with a slight limp so now I always have one; when my body is really low on estrogen I get incredibly clumsy; I have 2 holes in my jaw from where a surgical plate was removed; I'm deathly allergic to peanuts; my limbs are so long, my fingertips almost reach down to my knees; I have a small groove in my head from wearing headgear when I was a child.

57. Things you want to say to an ex

- you always went on and on about how I deserved better, and you're wrong. It's not that I deserved better, you just didn't deserve me.

I have so much pity for you, because you have to live the rest of your life knowing what Ostin did to your mom, you did much the same to me. You acted the same as the man who makes you so sick. You're disgusting for what you did, and I hope you regret it everyday of your life.

58. What are 5 ways to win your heart?

- listen openly to me, tell me things that happened to you during your day, sending me songs or poems or little trinkets that remind you of me, laugh at my jokes, vocalize your feelings about me

59. What do you look like?

This is me and my roommate's cat, Anaan!

60. What is the biggest age difference between you and any of your partners?

- two years, he was 15 I was 17 and as soon as I learned how smol he was I couldn't get past it...

61. What's the first thing you notice in someone?

- their mouth, I lip-read so someone's lips and teeth is the first thing my eyes go to

62. What is the sexiest thing someone could ever do to/for you?

- oh gee I don't even know? Maybe take off my clothes for me, but like really slowly?

63. What is your definition of "having sex"?

- anything that gets the job done, y'know? wets the whistle

64. What is your definition of cheating?

- being physically intimate with a party outside of the pre-established exclusive relationship

65. What is your favourite foreplay routine?

- tease me until I want to kill you, and then fuck me until I can't remember my own name

66. What is your favourite roleplay?

- I don't have one. I did improv in highschool and doing any sort of "acting on the spot" makes me astral project back to that cringey time

67. What is your idea of a perfect date?

- one where it doesn't matter what you're doing, you never want it to end because you can never have enough time with the person you're with

68. What is your sexual orientation?

- queer!

69. What turns you off?

- people who are mean to animals

70. What turns you on?

- climate justice

71. What was your kinkiest wet dream?

- that will stay between me and the lord, thanks

72. What words do you like to hear during sex?

- none, if you can form words or sentences, one of us isn't doing our job right

73. What's something sweet you'd like someone to do for you?

- bring me flowers! No one has ever brought me flowers before

74. What's the most superficial characteristic you look for?

- probably wardrobe

75. What's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you?

- my sister moved in with me to take care of me while I recover from my mastectomy. I didn't even have to ask, she offered to do it

76. What's the sweetest thing you've done for someone?

My roommate and I had mice and squirrels living in the basement of our old house, and they ate and destroyed all of her old baby books and photo albums; so this year for Christmas I took all the pictures I had of us, and a bunch of pictures she had posted on her social media, and I made her a new photo book to preserve the memories she made these last few years.

77. What's your opinion on age differences in relationships?

- the older you get, the less age difference really matters, my roommate is 41 and her partner is turning 61 this year. I think so long as both parties are of legal age and consenting, do what you want. That being said, it gets iffy if the older party knew the younger person when they were a child; ie. Leonardo DiCaprio and his most recent girlfriend.

78. What's your dirtiest secret?

- I don't have one? I'm literally an open book... You can ask me anything

79. When was the last time you felt jealous?

- when an 8 year old girl came into the shop and told me her grandpa was taking her shopping for her birthday.

80. When was the last time you told someone that you loved them?

- on Wednesday, when I was saying goodbye to my grandma at the hospital (that sounds like a downer, she's fine, she had a knee operation and I went to visit her after work)

81. Who are five people you find attractive?

- LP, Ezra Miller, Joji, my ex boyfriend (they're mad cute, but they're ugly on the inside), Chris Fleming

82. Who is the last person you hugged?

- my mom, after she drove me home from the hospital and helped me get inside

83. Who was your first kiss with?

- a boy named Rhys, in the ninth grade. We were each other's beards before we even knew it

84. Why did your last relationship fail?

- a lot of different reasons; we kept fighting, they had no time for me, they wouldn't communicate with me, I had trouble trusting them, they sexually assaulted me and were hella manipulative, they forgot I existed a lot, there were a lot of red flags that we ignored until it blew up in our faces.

85. Would you ever date someone off of the internet?

- sure, I don't see why not!

Thanks for asking! Sorry it took so long to answer, I had to stop and nap a few times in between questions...

[jae-writes-fanfiction]

Loki x f!Reader  -   2685 words  -  Part 2 of 10

Warnings: Female characters are murdered. Violence, language, possibly disturbing imagery, and a brief description of  a panic attack. 

Notes: This is a longer story, new parts every Wednesday and Sunday, let me know what you think!

Summary: The Bastard Queen is summoned to a royal audience with the Allfather and his court where her father’s past crimes are recognized, and the fate of her contracted betrothal is revealed.

Tags: @dragonrosegardens @kybaeza

As you woke the room around you was completely foreign. You stretched languidly, clearing the sleep from your eyes. The dark silk of the sheets wrapped around your legs, matched your family colors, as did all the dressings within your apartments. The towels strung-up next to the bath matched, along with the cushioned chair at the writing desk in the corner.

A hint of smoke clung to your skin, making you blush with the memory of your dream. At least that was a small comfort amid the chaos. After they read your summons for the day, the horde of servants rushed into your room to bathe you, and dry your hair. Thankfully they allowed you to provide one of your own dresses for the occasion. You opted for a day gown, enchanted to be light as a feather and cooling on the skin. The fabric shifted from a dark garnet to deep purple in the light, drawing more attention to your hips where the fabric swayed the most. The sleeves were only to your elbows, and the bodice was laced up the front, permitting a slight glance at your chest. You waved your lady’s maid to your side, thankful for the familiarity the seclusion of your chambers provided.

“Halla, I will have to show them Mother’s death. And other, older things.” Your voice grew thick in remembrance, not of the hurtful comments, but the memories of secrets long ago buried.

“I know Jocelyn was your friend. And I’m sorry to replay these things in your presence let alone the prying eyes and loose tongues of an entire court.”

Halla nodded silently, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder signaling her understanding.

“Whatever I show, whatever they say. You cannot leave me there among strangers. If the spell is too much and I must rest only you are permitted to assist me.” You instructed solemnly, although the other servants had been kind, the air of ‘otherness’ still lingered over them.

Halla squeezed your shoulder and gestured to the sun’s position on the horizon. You had been instructed to appear within the royal court in supplication that morning, you feared the added attention was due to your rather impolite arrival.

As your steps echoed through the hushed halls, you ran a crystal talisman between your fingers and silently offered a prayer to your mother, your ancestors, and any gods you could invoke. The scrying spell you were attempting to use was simple enough but modified to show memories, as living images that filled viewer’s heads with their sounds. It relied entirely off your own energy, and the memories trapped within your own mind.

Formal members of the King’s guard barred your entrance. You had to wait with the other commoners until you were summoned before the court. With each passing second your thoughts grew louder, filling you with dread. Halla squeezed your hand, trying to pull you from your mind. But you couldn't ignore the persistent fears, bubbling over with grief.

You couldn’t stop thinking about your mother. How her gentle smile soothed all the storms within your soul in one look. How she tutored and fostered your magick even when it threatened to outgrow and consume you. How she protected you...

"Mother,” you prayed silently, digging your fingers into your palms, “I swear by the old gods and all the stars in the sky, I will have our justice.” Your throat tightened as rage shook through your body, “Goddess, he’s taken too much from us,” you pleaded fervently, “I will do whatever needed. I’ll kill him if you see fit.” You gasped for air, noticing you’d been holding your breath. Quietly you whispered your last words to your goddess, “please do not let my family have died in vain.”

Your prayer echoed through your mind, silencing the other thoughts. Nothing here could hurt you, there was nothing more to lose. As you settled into your resolution, the guards called your name.

As a child you learned how to walk with your hips, so that an entire room might fall in love with your grace no matter your shape or the softness of your body. Although your future rested inside the room, you were done trying to win people over. You held your head high and oozed confidence in each step; in every way presenting the presence of a King, in every way your father couldn’t.

An appointed spokesperson explained to the court, the specifications of your spell, and that members of the courts and councils could proffer questions after the demonstration. Turning to you, they asked why you were showing these memories.

“To satisfy the questions of my birth and the guilt of my Mother’s consort: so your ‘King’ might better decide how to act in regard to the fraudulent contract.”

Your voice was clear, focused and factual. A few of the women in the gallery feigned gasps at your boldness. You almost rolled your eyes at their dramatics, and hoped whoever they were acting for was worth the embarrassment.

When you were instructed to cast your spell you carefully lined a small circle on the ground with salt and placed your talisman in the center.

With a few well placed gestures a smoke-like screen appeared and those who looked at it were drawn into the spell, seeing the memories you chose.

The first memory held the striking image of your mother, in all her regal glory. The two of you sat in the library reading through her favorite play. During a break your mother rang for tea but instead of her lady in waiting, was treated by your father. He’d brought only the one cup, “Sorry little one, just for Ro right now.” His words sparked an unsettling feeling in your stomach while your mother, surprised at the gesture, thanked him and drank the tea.

He retreated immediately, and although you couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling returned to your reading. Halfway through the climax, where the prince seeks revenge for his father’s murder, your mother stopped breathing. Just for a moment but your felt the change in the air.  Your magick sparked along your skin and worry set in.  

She appeared asleep, unusual for this play which usually stirred her spirits until the two of you were reading together. Terrified of what you might feel you hesitantly took her hand in yours, and screamed from the immense pain you could sense.

You leapt away from her out of instinct, your wavering and mumbling voice throwing spells and prayers towards her, while screaming for help. Nothing was working. None of the spells of restoration, health, or stasis.

“Little-One what’ve you done?” Your father’s voice interrupted your panicked administrations. You grabbed his hand and tried to have him help you. Pleading with him for her life as servants entered and someone ran for the doctor.

“At this point,” he sneered at you, “I’d try necromancy instead of those charms.” You turned quickly and screamed for him to leave, before returning to your mother. You knelt on the ground and held her limp hands in yours, her skin starting to discolor. You recited countless incantations, your voice growing hoarse limbs heavy with despair. She never woke up, remaining unresponsive for two more days before her death. The memory ended with her body shrouded in hazy gauze and flowers, laid out for her wake.

The next memory was from your younger years, you were running circles around your mother, catching butterflies. Tiny footfalls interrupted the idyllic scene as another little girl entered the memory. She appeared to be your duplicate, an exact copy, your twin Jocelyn. In the background your father lingered in the shade of a barren tree, listing as your sister asked “mumma why can’t I make the pretty lights dance like sissy does?”

The sound of your mother’s voice nearly sent you reeling. “You’ll understand when you’re older, but it’s how the gods decided who will become Queen, and who will become her advisor.”

“Oh! Like you and Aunt Dahlia?”

Your mother nodded while the child giggled, “Well that’s okay, I don’t want to be queen anyway! I wanna be a dancer!” Her little voice echoed as she twirled around.

The memory changed to the next night, you were in the library learning a new spell. Your mother guided your fingers over the runes, committing their shape to memory when a surprised scream tore through the castle followed by a sickening thud and torturous silence.

Your mother bade you stay put, while leaving to inspect the commotion. But her reverberating sobs commanded your frightened feet to move. You had never heard your mother cry before. The heap of tangled skirts at the bottom of the stairs confused you, convincing you to step closer. It was only then you noticed the all too familiar strands of hair, and the small fingers twisted into strange angles.

A flurry of servants crowded into the space, attending to your crumpled sister, and inconsolable mother. You quietly tugged on your mother’s skirt, “What will happen to us now mumma?”

“More importantly,” your father interrupted from the top of the stairs, “What will happen to the kingdom?” No one had heard his approach but how could they over the sobs?

Your mother shot a glare at him, before turning to kneel and hold your hands. She recounted your first brush with death, a little bird trapped in brambles, and how just like that, once the doctor came and saw Jocelyn, together you’d get to say goodbye, all the while tears in her eyes.

“But if she isn’t gonna come back I’ll have to pick a new advisor!” You said pouting, yet making sure to enunciate the syllables carefully, still to young to understand the permanence of death. The memory didn’t retain your mother’s response, as your focus was drawn by a strange noise. Your father’s grip on the railing had tightened with your question, the old wood splintering angrily into his hand.

Behind him a young maid darted into view. Her eyes were frantic searching for your mother, only to have her freeze upon being confronted with your father.

Her fear was so evident, she squeaked trying to back away. Unwilling to share the memories of a child’s funeral you let the image fade before ending the spell.

“He killed the wrong sister.” You spoke, pulling the court’s attention to you.

“It is our law that if the gods deemed none of our heirs deserving of magick, that their Queen Mother might rule instead... without a Queen Mother, an advisor or trusted consort might act as regent until the next successor is named.”

You kept your eyes trained forward, hoping the direct attention would prompt the Allfather’s response.

“Are there any who could speak to these assertions?” A noble asked pointedly filling the empty space.

“Yes, what of the servant? Can she not be produced to confirm your suspicions?” Another chimed in, pushing the matter. You nodded and gestured for Halla to approach you. Her face was stained with fresh tears, her heart heavy with renewed grief. You hoped, to some end justice would prevail so the gods might forgive what you were about to do.

“This is the woman in question. After the incident she became my personal companion and Lady/s maid-“

“And why can’t she tell us herself!”

“Because,” you said taking a measured breath to steady your resolve, “the next morning she was found, her tongue cut out.” You glanced in her direction as Halla sorrowfully opened her mouth to the abject horror of your questioners.

Odin struck his staff against the floor, demanding silence as he prepared his response. “No proof has been shown against this contract, only speculation, and I’ll not interfere in another kingdom’s political entrapments.” He spoke carefully, weighing all the possible meanings of each word.

You interjected politely, “Allfather, I was not asking you to. I simply wanted you to know from whom you’ve bought me.”

The clever assertion almost brought a smile to the King’s face. Although you had no way of knowing his previous decision, your wit comforted him that he was at least giving his kingdom someone with intelligence.

“That being said, in honoring this arrangement I’m forced to acknowledge the claims of your birth. With the context you have provided us, It would disgrace your Queen Mother and your right as her heir to pawn you off to some noble already home with two wives.”

You almost laughed aloud, thinking at least that oddly specific fear was addressed.

“Instead I’d rather strengthen this alliance, in marrying my son.”

“Ah yes,” you thought, “the absentee hero.” You were thankful to stay within the familiar and welcoming household, and more grateful still for the support towards your heritage. But, Gods that would be boring.  Marrying Thor would be marrying a fleeting bird. His appearances on Asgard were scattered and unpredictable, despite the advantageous match it would condemn you to the life of a favored toy. To be used and remembered at the whims of an altogether preoccupied man.

“My Lady, consider this my concession that you will make a formidable Queen-“

“My King would that really be appropriate? A woman of disputed heritage as our Queen?” One of the previous questioners objected, utterly appalled.

Obviously you had missed some subtext. You had assumed the same thing, and took his assertions as your betrothal to Thor. You tried to keep your face stoic amid the pleasant but shocking revelation, that he preferred you wed Loki.  For all your efforts you couldn’t prevent the slight flush that colored your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

“I have found her heritage admissible. And am I not your king?”

The man’s hurried apology and departure signaled a change in tone, the other nobles having a new scandal to gossip about. One of their own challenged the King’s authority, only to run away.

“Now barring anymore interruptions,” Odin continued, a jovial light dancing at the corners of his eyes, “Upon his coronation you will be married to Loki Odinson; Prince of Asgard, So says your King.” Despite his genial tone, the pit of your stomach turned feeling the courtroom on edge awaiting your response. Of course even after the replaying of traumas, and discussion of legitimacy, you were still expected to follow the rules of polite society.

“Allfather, I thank thee. This concession is more than I expected. I hope I prove worthy of your assertions.” You prayed to all the gods of your world, the tremble in your voice wasn’t heard. You had not expected to be Queen, of this place or any. You feared, in doing so he had doomed your chances of returning home. You couldn’t be the Queen of two places so far apart. Queens couldn’t overthrow their fathers or go to war.

You couldn’t compose your loud thoughts as Halla lead you from the room. It wasn’t a bad match, under any other circumstances you’d be thrilled with the prospects of taking a King as your consort. But you weren’t taking a consort, you were being given as a bride. 

Waves of sound echoed in your ears mostly your thoughts but partially something else, potentially someone else you couldn’t tell, the noises were all a stabbing crescendo of tangled words and fears of failure building up and up and up until you were swimming in noise and you couldn’t breathe. Oh gods you couldn’t breathe and your chest restricted so that your heart hurt and then- you were falling.

Thankfully, you were already down the hallway and Halla caught you in enough time. Your body was failing you, you were dying- that had to be it. Halla guided your shaking form behind a pillar away from prying eyes. She gripped your hand, tracing the rune for “panic” slowly and deliberately until your breathing slowed, and you could think again.

You whispered your thanks, and let Halla lead you to your room and into bed. Despite the midday sun peering through from the balcony, your mind was exhausted and sleep quickly followed.