#Best LED Grow Light on the market

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

how things worked out

Bucky Barnes x Reader

a/n: this is a prequel to a mini series I will be writing called Invisible String.

summary: looking back at your past relationship with steve rogers and how it led to finding the love of your life - life is funny, isn't it?

The post office was packed, no surprise there. People carrying packages that range from hefty to manageable in their arms. The air was stuffy but that was to be expected inside a government facility. The slow shuffling of the line would have been a nightmare for an impatient person, but you were fine just waiting in line. You needed to get the small package out as soon as possible and if that meant waiting eons, then that was that.

The package in your arm wasn’t the usual boring brown; you had opted for one of the festive boxes that the post office offered. It was blue with colored polka dots with a printed faux light blue ribbon around it. It was cute and the contents inside of it was even more adorable – three pairs of onesies in various colors, a small blue beanie and the cherry on top, a toddler sized newspaper boy cap. Oh, it was precious when you saw it at the baby boutique and knew Steve would die when he laid is eyes upon it.

Steve Rogers.

Damn that man for being so wonderful.

The thought of him made you smile, when for a long time, it crushed you. The mere thought of his existence in the world, knowing he was off being great without you at his side, paralyzed you. When all the years you spent with him didn’t matter in the end, at least that’s how you felt. Now, ten years older and so much wiser, thinking of Steve made you realize how great life was. How grateful you were to have had the time with him, even though the relationship ended badly. It was all over the tabloids of your mind; the memories and tears, the fighting and the loving…

“Come dance with me.”

“Everyone will see,” you laughed, fully aware of the crowd of people. The two of you were at a farmer’s market and a band was playing near the food stands. Lights were hung over the trees, illuminating the night with its softness. Steve, so boyish in the face, just smiled and held out his hand. He didn’t care and if he didn’t care, why should you? So, you took his hand and shyly allowed him to bring you to the dance floor. No one else was dancing, but he pulled you into his body as if in a bedroom; one hand around your waist, while the other held your hand against his chest. Your head rested against his shoulder; hand slipped up his back as the music swirled in the air.  In that moment, the people staring felt insignificant. You felt exceptional – the star of the show, with Steve at your side, kissing you on the forehead and both of you wishing the song would never end.

It did though.

“You can’t be serious, Steve…”

His eyes lifted from the ground. “We both know this isn’t working anymore. Bucky’s driving down to help me move out, I want you to have the apartment.”

Hand on heart, you feigned a smile. “Oh, my hero. Always a gentleman.”

“Don’t be like that, come on…. we…” his words drifted, as you two did. It had been six months of really trying to get back to that place of love but falling short at every attempt. “…I can’t live like this anymore, I’m sorry.”

The line moved a person forward and you moved along. Staring down at the package once more, you laughed at the thought of sending your ex a baby shower gift. Who would have thought? After all the years of hating Steve, you grew to appreciate him. Growing older had made you learn some civility and you were able to understand that the two of you were never a happy ending match. The same could be said for him, he was compassionate enough to understand how you felt. He understood that the pair of you were just too young, hadn’t experienced life. That breaking up had been the best thing to do, and you thanked him for his graciousness. That same graciousness allowed him to understand and approve of what would conspire years later between you and his…

“This line is insane.”

The familiar voice, warm and low, brightened the room as you gazed over to man who appeared next to you. Bucky stood there in a thin black dress shirt and dark jeans; he handed over a takeaway coffee cup and leaned in for a kiss. He kissed you twice and took the package out of your hand, so you could take a sip. The coffee was delicious, and you thanked him, nodding to the line ahead.

“We’re going to be here for a while.”

“You sure we need to send this to Steve?”

Bucky was teasing, but you insisted that it be sent today. “We’re already missing the baby shower next week; we need to get this out today.”

“Not our fault they decided to have the baby shower the same week we leave for Europe.”

You smacked his arm with a quiet laugh, and he beamed, wanting to kiss you a dozen more times but the line moved. He settled for staring lovingly at your face as you took another drink of coffee, and he felt his body warm. His eyes flickered down to the package in his arms, and he couldn’t help but wonder how everything ended up this way – not that he was complaining. The breakup between his best friend and you were not amicable, he could never forget how hurt and angry you looked when he showed up at the apartment. It looked like you hadn’t eaten in weeks, eyes red from crying – he wanted to get out of the situation, but he loved Steve like a brother. He also liked you, thought Steve had made a great choice when he brought you around as his girlfriend. Bucky was placing bets that his friend would propose, especially after you two moved into the apartment.

Bucky was sure of it all.

Then he found himself moving Steve’s belongings into a rental truck and driving him back to New York. After that, it had been almost eight years since he last seen you. Until a trip to visit friends in Los Angeles changed his whole world. He never, in his damn life, would have expected you to show up to his friend’s apartment.

Walking in with a friend, wearing professional attire; pleated black pants, half tucked in white blouse. High heels that you quickly took off, leaving them at the door – it was clear you were familiar with the apartment. Hair swept in a low bun, strands framing your face. He watched from the couch, standing up as you moved to the kitchen not even noticing him.

Sam, whose apartment it was, had called for you from the kitchen and that’s why you hadn’t noticed everyone who was over. You grinned at the handsome man when he offered up a beer from his fridge. The two of you had met a few years back when you first moved to LA for a job; he had been a co-worker but eventually left the company. Your friendship continued and now, you were a constant at his apartment.

“I have to introduce to my buddy from New York, picked him up from the airport today.”

Sipping from the beer, your shoulders relaxed after a long day at the office. “James, right?”

“I go by Bucky, actually.”

The familiar voice shook the apartment and when you turned, you hadn’t expected to see Bucky standing in front of you. He stood there sheepishly, not knowing what your reaction would be, but when you placed the beer down and laughed, he relaxed. The two of you approached each other and hugged, a little awkward, but it was nice. Sam, confused, asked if you knew Bucky and you laughed, pulling from the man. You stared up at him and his eyes softened in a way you had never noticed before.

“Yeah, I know him…”

“I hope they like the clothes….”

Bucky guaranteed they would, and you relaxed. He smiled – he did that a lot when you were around. Although, it took some time for him to reconcile with his feelings for you and the fact that you were his best friend’s ex-girlfriend. He had hated the feelings he had, the instant attraction and want that surged through him the moment you walked into Sam’s apartment. Hated that he could feel himself drifting towards you that night at the apartment or how you came around nearly every day he was in town for those two weeks. The first few times, it was group outings; Sam, the others, Bucky, and you. Showing him around the city and then when the others were busy with work, you offered to take him around.

Bookshops, lunches, people watching.

It had been the best two weeks of his life and he knew he was in trouble.

Yet, somehow, it all worked out.

Bucky said your name as the line moved up, he took your free hand and walked forward. You looked at him and he could only grin. “I love you.”

How strange life was; time moving forward – that was all that was certain. Squeezing Bucky’s hand, you smiled back at him. Fascinating, how things worked out. Bucky holding your hand, keeping your heart safe – knowing if it hadn’t been for Steve, the two of you would have never found each other.

 “I love you too.”

....

want to be tagged in Invisible String mini-series? Leave comment!

[yxlnst]

A CITRUS KISS

Idol!seungkwan x reader!y/n

🎀 Summary 🎀 : Seungkwan takes you to a citrus grove for a first date. You bond, compete, and share a lovely day together.

🧸 Word count 🧸 : 1,086

Fluff

🧸 - - - - - - - - - - - - 🎀 - - - - - - - - - - - - 🧸

It was a warm Saturday morning in Jeju, the kind of morning where the sun kissed the fields with gentle warmth and the air was fresh with the scent of citrus. You were pacing back and forth in front of the local market, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. You were about to go on your first date with Boo Seungkwan, a sweet guy you'd met through a mutual friend. Today, he was taking you to an orange grove to pick fruit. It sounded like the perfect way to spend a day, but you couldn't help feeling a bit anxious about making a good impression.

You checked your watch for the third time. It was just past nine, and Seungkwan was supposed to meet you here. You smoothed your hair and tried to take deep breaths. What if he didn't show? What if you said something awkward? What if—

"Hey!" a cheerful voice called from behind you. You turned to see Seungkwan jogging toward you, a wide smile on his face. He was dressed in casual jeans, a simple white shirt, and a light jacket. His hair was styled neatly, and his eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Hi," you replied, trying to calm your racing heart. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten."

"Me? Forget a date with you?" he said, pretending to be offended. "Never. I just had to make sure we had everything we need for the best day ever."

You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. Seungkwan had a way of making you feel at ease, even when you were nervous. "So, what's the plan?" you asked.

"Glad you asked," he replied, gesturing toward the parking lot. "I borrowed my mom's car, so we can drive to the orange grove. It's not too far from here. And I brought some snacks for the trip, just in case we get hungry. You like kimbap, right?"

"Love it," you said, feeling relieved that he'd thought of everything. As you followed him to the car, you couldn't help but notice how he made you feel at ease, like you'd known him forever.

The drive to the orange grove was filled with laughter and light conversation. Seungkwan had a great sense of humor, and he kept you entertained with stories about growing up in Jeju and his various misadventures. You shared a few stories of your own, and by the time you arrived at the grove, the nervousness you'd felt earlier had melted away.

The orange grove was a beautiful sight, with rows of trees stretching out in every direction, their branches heavy with ripe, golden fruit. The sun was higher in the sky now, casting a warm glow over everything. It was the kind of place that felt like a hidden treasure, far from the hustle and bustle of the city.

"Wow, this is amazing," you said, looking around in awe.

"Right? I used to come here with my family when I was a kid," Seungkwan explained. "We'd pick oranges and have picnics. It was always a lot of fun. I thought you'd like it."

"I love it," you replied, genuinely touched that he'd chosen such a special place for your first date.

Seungkwan led the way through the grove, pointing out the best spots for picking oranges. He handed you a small basket and picked one for himself. "Okay, here's the game," he said, grinning. "Whoever picks the most oranges by the end of the day wins. Loser has to buy the winner ice cream."

"You're on," you said, accepting the challenge. You both started picking oranges, laughing as you raced from tree to tree. Seungkwan was surprisingly competitive, but he also made sure you were having a good time. He'd pause to help you reach a particularly high orange or to crack a joke that made you both double over with laughter.

As the morning went on, the baskets slowly filled with fruit. You took a break under the shade of a large tree, enjoying the snacks Seungkwan had brought along. It was a simple picnic, but it felt perfect. You sat on a blanket, munching on kimbap and sipping cold drinks, talking about everything and nothing at all. Seungkwan was easy to talk to, and you found yourself sharing things you'd never shared with anyone else.

"I really like spending time with you," you said, almost without thinking. The words just slipped out, but you didn't regret them.

Seungkwan looked at you with a gentle smile. "I like spending time with you, too," he replied. "I was a little nervous about today, but I'm glad I asked you out.

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words. It was a strange feeling—like butterflies and sunshine all at once. "I was nervous, too," you admitted. "But this has been really fun."

"It has, hasn't it?" Seungkwan said, taking a sip of his drink. "I think we make a pretty good team."

"Yeah," you agreed, smiling. "I think we do."

After the picnic, you both got back to picking oranges, but this time at a more leisurely pace. You walked side by side, sometimes in comfortable silence, other times chatting and laughing. It was like you'd known each other for years, even though it had only been a few weeks.

By the time you returned to the car, your basket was overflowing with oranges, while Seungkwan's was slightly less full. You raised an eyebrow at him, pretending to be serious. "Looks like I won," you said.

Seungkwan laughed and held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, you win. I'll buy the ice cream. But I still think I picked the best oranges."

"Only one way to find out," you replied, taking an orange from his basket and peeling it. The citrus scent filled the air, and you both took a bite. It was sweet and juicy, the perfect reward after a long day of picking.

"Okay, I admit it," Seungkwan said, grinning. "You picked some pretty good oranges, too."

As you sat on the hood of the car, eating oranges and watching the sun begin to set over the grove, you felt a sense of contentment that you'd never felt before. It was like you'd found a piece of home, a place where you belonged. lol

"Thanks for inviting me today," you said, leaning your head against Seungkwan's shoulder. "This was perfect."

"I'm glad you came," he replied, wrapping an arm around you. "I hope we can do this again."

"I'd like that," you said, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment. It was the start of something new, something special, and you couldn't wait to see where it would lead.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of orange and pink, you knew one thing for sure: this was the best first date you'd ever had.

[daisynik7]

Hello, I hope you've been doing well! When you have the time, could you please write about Nanami with a s/o who's creative and kind of hippiesque? I'm making that a word now haha but this is very much a self insert and I felt comfortable enough to ask you ☺

I've been tapping into my creative side more lately and even experimented with clay for the first time! I typically alternate between writing and sewing, sometimes I doodle. When it comes to clothes and just overall aesthetic - think thrifting, knick knacks, flowly/light fabrics, and things like that. I'm tempted to call it romantic but idk about that lol. Anyway, here's flowers and tea for you 💐🍵💓

p.s.: the idea of making him a bag for his work things 😭

Author’s Note: Hello friend! I’m so sorry this took SO LONG to complete, I know it’s been months since you requested, so I appreciate your patience on this! I hope you enjoy this little drabble!

Nanami wasn’t always reserved and rigid. Growing up and joining the workforce unfortunately led him to this mundane lifestyle, often following the same routines day-by-day, with little-to-no color in his life. He often reminisces about his high school days, when he used to sneak off from class to listen to punk rock music with his best friend Yu Haibara, who always used to radiate bright energy, enough to warm even Nanami. When his friend passed away, it seemed that the void he left would never be filled again.

That is, until he meets you. 

You are vastly different from Nanami, but that’s what he loves so much about you. Where he lacks in creativity, you do more to cover the both of you. Most of your décor and accessories are homemade, crafted from your very own hands. The pieces displayed on the walls of your shared apartment are all original artworks. Watercolors, acrylics, charcoal, pen and ink. You like to experience with different medias, creating a variety of scenes, depending on an image that captivates you that day. Flowers you see on your daily walks to the park, a golden sunset you watch together on the beach, Nanami sitting on the couch resting his eyes after a long week at work. It’s simple in the grand scheme of things, but when it’s captured forever on canvas or paper, it becomes something special. 

It takes a while for Nanami to get used to being the main focus in your artwork. He’s never liked standing out. When you show him one of your first sketches of him just standing in the kitchen, he’s surprised. Not only at your talent, but at how accurately you were able to portray his personality with a couple strokes of your pencil. That’s when he knows he should appreciate this for all that it’s worth.

His outfits soon become accessorized by your crafts. A knitted red scarf he uses when it’s cold out, with a beanie to match. Sewn mittens for his hands, keeping him warm throughout the train ride to work. He even replaces his briefcase with the bag you crochet for him, insisting that it’s perfect for all his belongings, even if there are a few places on it where his papers stick out. He gets used to the little trinkets and figurines you collect from various flea markets or thrift shops. Half the closet is his muted natural colors while yours is a rainbow that brings him joy every morning he has to get dressed for work. 

Nanami absolutely loves how much of you bleeds into him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. His daily routine now sparks with something special, all thanks to you.  

[narutoandanimearemyheart]

HASHIRAMA X GENDER NEUTRAL READER DAD! HEADCANONS

TW: SLIGHT MENTIONS OF PHYSICAL AND VERBAL ABUSE IN THE BEGINNING(TOWARDS HASHIRAMA WHEN HE WAS A CHILD)

Literally the sweetest father on the planet

-His own father wasn’t exactly what one would call father of the year. And he often grew up being demeaned for having a sensitive nature

From verbal lashings to physical beatings from his father, all of that led to issues that he currently deals with today, even though he’s tried to get over it.

That’s why when his child was born he vowed to be the father to them that he never had. As an infant he’d most certainly never put you down(Unless Mito forced him too).

He’d hug you and cradle you close to him literally 24 hours in a day if he could.

You are also most likely born before the founding of Konohagakure, during the warring states era, so he’s extra on guard.

He loves taking care of his baby, from feeding them, to playing with them, to putting them to sleep, the only thing he doesn’t really like is changing diapers, but he always consoles himself by aggressively reminding him that it is for the good and happiness of his sweet and precious and wonderful baby, which always takes the discomfort away

In the toddler years you best believe he’s overprotective. If he turns away from you for one second, you’ve somehow scaled the bookshelf, causing him to nearly have a heart attack. If it’s not that, then he sees you playing with one of his swords, or you’ve somehow managed to eat more sweets than he told you to!

Hashirama is sure that he is going to get grey hairs, he can already feel them coming.

There was this one time that when he went to go and grab something from his room and left you in the living room for two minutes, you had already made your way to the kitchen about to curiously figure out how to light a fire to cook food

Since that day, you’ve either been under constant watch of Hashirama, or Mito, when the other is busy. Your early childhood years were quite wonderful. Hashirama played all sorts of games with you when you were a kid, from chasing games, to make believe, to fun competitions, he did it all.

He’d often be engrossed in a very detailed imaginary story with his child, a tale about a ferocious monster and having to defeat it, or a simple day at the market.

He’ll take his role very very seriously, whether he’s playing a ferocious monster you best believe that his roar will be as fierce as possible, or he’ll be the grumpiest customer at the market

Putting games and fun aside, he’d start training you in the Shinobi arts, he’d however be much more softer than the brutal and grueling training his father put him through at a young age

He’d start off with the basics and eventually move into more advanced things as you progress and master basic skills, being his child and the child of Mito, your most likely very powerful, so you’d pick up jutsu rather quickly.

He’d be stern yet kind in teaching you. He wants you to grow up to be a capable Shinobi, however he also wants you to go at a comfortable pace. He wouldn’t really go easy on you, but he wouldn’t go hard on you either, finding a balance between the two.

If you somehow inherited his wood style kekkei genkai he’d be absolutely elated, and he’d teach you everything that you needed to know. It felt kinda lonely being the only human on the planet with wood style, and now that he can pass it on to his child he’s never been more happy and proud, and he boasts to Tobirama about you on a daily basis(much to the younger Senju’s displeasure)

When Konoha is founded he feels so much excitement and pride to share this wonderful gift with his child, and to have a village where his children can live in peace and live to reach adulthood.

He wants to share his dream with you and he hopes that you’ll come to love the village as much as he does. He’d love to see you inherit his will of fire and start to see the villagers as your family.

As the years move by, you enter your teenage years.

The years that Hashirama has been waiting for, he doesn’t know whether to be excited or to be wary of that time when so many parents almost end of losing their mind because of their children.

You were brought up well, Hashirama was a loving and patient father, yet could be firm when needed, he’d love to spoil you and shower you in his affection but he didn’t tolerate bad behaviour, he was gentle yet firm with his discipline.

However you still had your moments of disobedience as a teenager which made him want to pull his hair out, whether it be coming back past curfew, rudely talking back, or going off on your own to fight some enemy shinobi(which almost causes him to have a panic attack)

Hashirama is very patient with you in your teenage years, he knows it’s a turbulent and confusing time when one transitions from an adolescent into a young adult, and you must be feeling confused and want more space and freedom, he’s willing to give you that, but all he asks is that you don’t do anything reckless and just try and listen to his advice.

When you break the rules he’s obviously going to give you a consequence for that. He doesn’t strike me as the type of father to give harsh discipline, he’s more so the punishment fits the crime type of father, so if you sneak out, then your grounded for a certain period of time, and if you talk back rudely then he’s sending you to your room to reflect on your behaviour. He doesn’t like disciplining you, but he does so out of love and wanting you to stay on the right path.

If you decide to start dating as a teenager oh boy.. prepare for another Hashirama to be activated “Who are they?? What do they look like?? Do I know them?? What’s their favourite color?? Do they like mushroom zosui like me?? Are they a shinobi or civilian, WHAT DO THEY THINK OF ME?!” Yeah…. He’s going to be excited to say the least.

Hashirama cannot wait to meet this person who has captured his child’s heart, and he’ll be the most friendliest person ever when he meets them and give them the highest bear hug they’ve ever received. As far as he’s concerned his child’s s/o is his child too. Until they break your heart. Then Hashirama will have to disown them and he will be sad, though he’ll mostly be sad for you cause you’re actually his child.

He will help you with your heartbreak and tell you that there are plenty of fish in the sea and you just have to wait until you meet the right person just like he did with your mother. He will let you cry in his shoulder and comfort you in his arms. Even though a breakup at 16 probably won’t even mean that much, Hashirama is still gonna comfort them, because to his child it means a lot and therefore it means a lot to him.

He’ll try his best to cheer you up in the coming days and let you know that he’ll always be there for you and you should focus on your training and all your dreams and goals in the meantime, because love will fall one day, it just takes some time.

As your teenage years end and you transition from a teenager into a young adult, he couldn’t be more proud of how much you’ve grown. Your probably still living in the Senju Compound, so I don’t think you’d move out of it, so he still sees you very often which makes him rather happy.

Whether or not you get married or don’t get married, he fully supports your decision and at the end of the day he just wants you to be happy and healthy, if you choose to get married that’s wonderful and he adores your spouse like his own child, and if you and your spouse decide to have children, he’s ecstatic to have grand babies to spoil(Here comes Tsunade).

He is going to tell them stories about his youth and overdramatize it(but given how powerful he is, it most likely won’t be an exaggeration) He will play with them even though he’s getting old(he still says that he’s got it, he actually is rather flexible and sturdy for an old man)

Now Hashirama would be a very sweet and kind Father in Law. He just wants what’s best for you and for you to be with someone who loves you and treats you right. He adores you more than anything and wants his Child In Law to love you as much as he does(though that might not be possible considering just how much Hashirama loves you)

He’s very good at giving relationship advice, and often helps mediate your conflicts with your spouse. Hashirama likes to stay neutral in arguments and find ways to make both sides happy and feel validated. So yeah he is really good at uniting people.

If you don’t choose to get married he’s fine with that and just wants to see you happy doing what you love.

He’s definitely spending a lot of time with you though, and making sure that you are at peace with your life. He won’t have any of his clan members talking bad about your life choices, if the elders are onto him because of your choices then they can go and kiss trees! Your happiness comes first and foremost to him.

As his end days grow closer, whether he succumbs to his mortality from either battle wounds or simply old age, he’ll press one last soft and loving kiss to your forehead, and tell you of the wonderful things your going to do, and how you’re going to lead the Senju Clan and the village.

He gently wipes your tears away and reassures you that one day you’ll see each other again, father and child.

From infancy to adulthood, Hashirama loves you unconditionally, infinitely, and eternally. His love for you is as pure as gold and as precious as a diamond, the love of a parent is the most powerful force in the universe and he’s the perfect example of that. You won the lottery by being the child of the most loving, gentle, and affectionate man on the planet.

[voraciousvore]

Candy and the Beanstalk

I wanted to write something light and silly and fluffy, since I've been writing so many dreadfully dark stories lately, so I put my OCs Candy Caramello and Martin Maneater into a classic beanstalk story. No actual vore in this one, just cute g/t fluff and some mild sfw romance. Enjoy (I hope)! :3

Word Count: 3.9k

They came from the sky, draped in remnants of clouds. Nobody knew how, or whence, or what they were, other than the fact that they vaguely resembled beans—beans with an exotic iridescent sheen, pulsing with a rainbow parade of luminescence. Upon their initial discovery, in a fallow dirt field, they drew considerable attention and curiosity. As obvious magical objects, they fetched a high price among buyers eager to discover their secrets. 

Unfortunately, these buyers were soon disappointed to find that their fortunes had been wasted. Not a single person could get the beans to grow, nor could they extract any magical properties. The kaleidoscope of lights that displayed on their smooth surfaces gradually faded to a dull, lackluster brownish green, just like any other bean, with only the occasional spark of light to betray their original appearance. The mysterious beans from the sky soon faded into obscurity as people lost interest, deemed nothing more than a hoax or scam. 

Out in the countryside, far away from the hustle and bustle of major townships, lived a humble peasant girl by the name of Candy Caramello. She was a very sweet and pretty girl, blessed with lovely blue eyes and long blonde hair, but she was also as dumb as a box of rocks. She lived with her parents on the family farm and worked as a milkmaid, with big milkers of her own to match. Regrettably, she wasn’t good for much else beyond the simplest tasks, especially with how clumsy and accident-prone she tended to be, so her parents didn’t have high hopes for her. She spent her days daydreaming about boys as she milked the cows and fed the animals. 

One day, one of the older cows stopped producing milk. Candy brought this unfortunate news up to her mother. “Mom, the cow’s broken. Her udder’s all shriveled up.” 

“Well, the cow’s of no use to us anymore. Take it to the market to sell it for its meat and hide,” her mother ordered. 

“Really? Me?” Candy replied with surprise, twirling strands of her lustrous golden hair around her fingers. She usually wasn’t assigned much responsibility. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? She’s bound it muck it up,” her father whispered. Mrs. Caramello shushed him and sent her daughter on her way. 

“She’s got to learn eventually,” her mom sighed, once she was out of earshot. “We can’t treat her like a baby forever.” 

Candy skipped along the dirt path to town, excited for a new adventure as she led the cow by a rope. Her blue eyes sparkled with joy as she beheld the scenery: undulating fields of grain, majestic old oak trees, fresh green grass, fluffy white clouds glowing with sunshine. She walked over a stone bridge and watched fish dart around in the sparkling waters of the river below. The cow impatiently pulled on the rope to hurry her along. 

She entered the market, and was immediately distracted by all the new sights and sounds and people. Stalls lined the streets bursting with fruits and vegetables, colorful textiles, hand-crafted goods, and a wide array of exotic baubles and trinkets. Candy forgot about selling the cow as she browsed goods that she had no money to buy. 

“Hey, you! Wench!” a gravelly voice called from the entrance to a dark, deserted alley off to the side. 

“Hmmm?” Candy turned her head and walked toward the sketchy area, oblivious to the potential danger. 

“Is that cow for sale? How much?” the voice rasped. A shadowy figure, cloaked in midnight blue garments, crept out of the shade from the brick walls that hemmed in both sides of the narrow passage. He was a lean, tall man with a sickly mien. 

“Ummm… what’s your best offer?” Candy inquired. She had no idea how much she was supposed to sell the cow for. 

“I have something that might interest you…” A gnarled hand emerged from the folds of the cloak, holding a small drawstring bag full of small lumps. “Magic beans!” He opened the bag and pulled out a bean to show her. To Candy’s amazement, the bean flickered with light. 

“Magic?” Candy’s eyes gleamed. “What do they do?” 

The mysterious individual hesitated, as if not anticipating the question. “Uh… they’ll make you rich! Fabulously rich!” Candy looked at the stranger blankly. Money was fine and dandy, but not what her heart truly desired. Sensing her apathy, he changed tactics. “Or… they’ll help you find true love!” 

Candy, being the hopeless romantic that she was, lit up. “Really? All that for a cow? Why? How?” 

“Erm, don’t worry about that. Just, uh… follow your heart and look to the heavens and you’ll have your answer!” 

Candy agreed to the deal, and traded the cow for the beans. As she left, the stranger muttered under his breath, too quiet to hear, “What a fool… those beans are useless…” 

On her way home, Candy pawed through the bag and examined the beans. None of them had that special spark or sheen that she witnessed earlier, but she wasn’t deterred. She believed in the magic with all her heart. She couldn’t wait to plant them and see what would happen. Would they bloom with fantastic buds, opening to reveal a handsome prince? She nearly squealed with joy at the thought. She entered her cottage home just as the sun was beginning to set, bathing the landscape in orange twilight. 

“Mom, Dad, look what I got for the cow!” Candy proclaimed, holding up the sack of beans triumphantly in her hand. 

“What���s that? Gold coins?” Mr. Caramello asked. 

“No, even better! I got beans! Magic beans!” Candy poured the beans into her hand so they could see. Her parents stared dumbly at the dull pile. 

“Please… tell me you’re joking,” her mother uttered in disbelief. Candy gave a slight shake of her head, clueless. “Candy, you clod! You traded an entire cow for a handful of beans?” 

She snatched all the beans out of Candy’s hand and threw them out the window. “Empty-headed simpleton! You got scammed! You wasted a perfectly good cow!” 

“I told you this would happen,” her father muttered. Mrs. Caramello elbowed him hard in the side, making him grunt. Candy hung her head, dejected. She wanted to shrivel into the floorboards and disappear. She tried her hardest to please her folks, but somehow she always messed everything up. Her best was never good enough for them. She fought back tears. 

“Ugh, just get out of my sight,” her mother said with a disgusted wave of her hand. Candy turned around with a despondent slouch and obeyed, dragging her feet out the door.   

“Don’t you think you’re being too hard on her, dear?” Mr. Caramello murmured, once Candy was out of earshot. “She can’t help it that she’s so stupid.” 

“I’m just sick of her being such an airhead! She needs to get her head out of the clouds and grow up!” Mrs. Caramello spat back with frustration. 

Outside, Candy walked over to the beans scattered in the soil and plopped down on her knees. Sniffling, she scooped the beans up into her hands with some crumbs of dirt and gazed down at them sadly. They didn’t glow, stubbornly insisting on remaining a bland monochrome green. She poked her fingers in the dirt and scooped out a hole, then planted the beans and tucked them in with a pat of her hands. She kept her hands in place, sitting in the dirt as the sun sank below the horizon, quenching its fire into the earth. Her remaining energy died with the light. 

With a laborious sigh, Candy went back inside the house, avoiding her parents and laying down in her bed to sleep. A trickle of melancholy dribbled into her core as she huddled on her side and stared at the wall. She was desperate to please; at the end of the day, she just wanted to be loved and held. She wanted a caring man, big and warm, to wrap his arms around her and tell her that she wasn’t useless. She wanted to feel precious and special, beloved and cherished, rather than being such a worthless disappointment. Candy shivered, pulling the bedsheets up to her chin, and fell asleep. 

Little did she know that the beans, hidden beneath layers of earth, were radiating multicolored flashes. They had awakened from their long-dormant state with a burst of fire. Candy’s sweet touch had brought them to life. Like Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone, Candy had something special that the magical beans patiently sought.  

While she slept, a fresh green sprout emerged from the ground and reached for the sky, twisting and looping in a rapid ascension. Tendrils swirled in spirals and springs around each other as they lengthened and expanded in scale. Leaves grew from tender buds into magnificent foliage large enough to lay on like a mattress. The stalk thickened and swelled, transforming from a thin vine to a pillar to a massive verdant structure, broader and taller than the biggest redwood trees. 

Candy woke up early, as was her habit, to let out the chickens and milk the cows. When she walked out the door into a dark shadow, she turned around to behold the gigantic beanstalk towering above her, above the house and surrounding countryside, impossibly tall, so high up that she couldn’t even see the top as it disappeared into the cloud layer. She stood there and gaped in astonishment, not believing her eyes. She wondered if she was still dreaming as she slowly stepped up to the plant and placed her palm on its glorious green surface. It was real. The magic was real. 

She craned her head back to gaze up into the sky. The words of the bean seller popped into her head. Follow your heart and look to the heavens. When she initially heard those words, she thought he meant to pray for divine intervention, or have faith or strength of spirit. Now, however, the words took on a whole new meaning. Clearly, she was supposed to literally ascend to the sky, via the magical bridge created expressly for her. 

The task before her was daunting, but Candy was firm with resolve. She dreamed, in her most honeyed fantasies, of finding true love. The ceaseless desire burned in her so strongly that she feared she would turn to ash if it were not satiated. She didn’t know what could possibly be in the sky that would aid her in her quest, but she was determined to find out. She took a deep breath to steady herself before beginning her journey. She gripped a coiled vine in her hand and started to climb. 

At first, scaling the beanstalk was fun, reminiscent of a joyful childhood climbing trees. As the time stretched on, though, Candy’s optimism waned and her muscles began to ache. The labor became arduous. As the atmosphere thinned with the great height, the air chilled and the wind bit through her light clothes. The verdurous shoots of the beanstalk were soft and feathery in some parts, hard and sharp in others, digging into the skin on her hands. Whenever she grew weary, she rested on one of the many giant leaves. She didn’t want to stay in one place for too long, though, since she still had a long way to climb. 

Candy considered giving up, but at some point she realized it would be just as hard to return to the ground far below. The distance was dizzying; Candy was just grateful she wasn’t afraid of heights. The beanstalk occasionally swayed in the breeze, making her cling with a death grip to the leafy vines until the stalk steadied again. When she needed a distraction, she admired the view. She could see for miles around. The farmland below, from such a grand height, looked flat, since none of the objects below could compare to the colossal twisting tower. 

Candy entered the cloud layer, where the air was moist and frigid. The initial wisps of cloud thickened into heavy white puffs that produced dark shade. Candy was tempted to curl up when the cold ice particles surrounded her, and her hands met crusts of ice on the foliage, but she forced herself to continue. Finally, she emerged from the cloud layer, back into the brilliant sunshine. 

Her eyes just about boggled out of her head when she surveyed the cloudscape around her. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t an entire alternate world up in the clouds. There were trees, and flowers, and a garden, and even a charming cottage close by. Candy cautiously tested the surface of the clouds and was surprised to find them pleasantly firm beneath her feet, like solid earth. She hopped off the beanstalk, stretched her weary arms, and headed towards the nearby cottage. 

She immediately discerned that something was amiss as she grasped the true nature of her surroundings. The grass was tall, easily as tall as she was, and the flowers towered over her head. The trees stretched up into infinity, their branches and leaves fading into the blinding mist higher up. Candy gawked over a fallen acorn as big around as a barrel of ale as she walked past it. The cottage at first glance appeared close, since it was such an immense building, but was actually quite far away.  

Candy faltered as she recognized just how shockingly huge everything was, especially the house. Who could possibly be large enough to inhabit such a vast structure? Fear flooded her heart, yet her curiosity and desire ultimately won out. She believed in the magic of the beans, even more so as she beheld such impossible, remarkable sights. She felt, in her heart, she was destined to come here—as the bean seller had promised her, to find love. 

She cautiously approached the cottage, marveling at the inconceivable scale of it all. Up close, the house was so large that she couldn’t take it all in at once. She stumbled over some pits in the ground, failing to notice that the ridges taken as a whole formed a giant bootprint. She reached the door, which stretched hundreds of feet above her head, and gazed up at it in wonder. There was no way she’d be able to open it on her own, but she was small enough to crawl underneath it, through the gap between the door and the floor. She slipped inside, her heart racing. 

The inside of the domicile would be rather average-looking, if not for the size. Candy found herself on a huge, scratchy welcome mat that nearly matched the square footage of her cow barn back home. She stepped over the threshold and onto a boundless stone floor. As she walked forward, with her diminutive shoes clicking on the stone, a tremendous masculine voice boomed from somewhere inside the house. 

“FE!” 

Candy stopped dead in her tracks at the enormous voice. The loud sound was followed up by a substantial thud, then another, and another, which Candy recognized as the rhythm of giant footsteps. 

“FI!” 

The steps rapidly approached, nearly knocking Candy over with how much they vibrated the floor. Her heart jumped into her throat. Logically, she knew she ought to run, but she was petrified in place. 

“FO!” 

The source of the disruption made his appearance, rounding a doorframe into the room. He was a giant man, hundreds of feet tall, with stormy gray eyes, short dark hair, and a sturdy build. He thundered toward little Candy, who was too stunned to move. 

“FUM!” 

His boot slammed down next to her. At her height, she wasn’t even tall enough to reach his ankle. He kneeled down, looming over her. 

“I smell the blood of an Englishman!”  

Candy gasped as a gigantic hand, with fingers thicker and longer than her entire body, overshadowed her. She finally snapped out of her paralytic state and turned to run, but she had no chance of escape as the fingers closed around her in a fist. She watched the floor drop away below as she was lifted up to the giant’s face so he could get a better look at her. 

“Er... Englishwoman,” the giant corrected himself, once he was able to see her closer. Candy gazed up at his huge face, into his soft gray eyes. He had a prominent nose, full lips, and a forest of stubble around his mouth and chin. Other than his size, he didn’t look menacing or evil. As a matter of fact, Candy found him to be strikingly handsome. Perhaps even the most handsome man she had ever seen—the kind she fantasized about all day while she milked the cows, when she imagined her perfect man. 

“Hmmm, I’m in the mood for a sandwich,” the giant rumbled to himself, standing up with the tiny woman in his fist. Candy wasn’t really listening to what he was saying. She was spellbound. She felt her face warm up with him so close, so huge, all around her. His fingers wrapped around her body as warmly as she pictured the arms of her fictional lover last night. Was this the man she was supposed to meet? Her true love? Sure, he was enormous, and not quite what she had expected, but true love conquers all, right? 

The giant, oblivious to her thoughts, got out some slices of bread, meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato, and condiments, and started prepping his sandwich. Humans weren’t common up in the sky, and he hadn’t eaten one in a long time, so he was looking forward to a rare treat. He thought it odd that she wasn’t struggling in his fist or pleading for her life, as humans normally did when he threatened to eat them. Maybe she was too frightened. She was shaking a bit, after all. 

Candy rested her elbows on his finger and held her chin in her hands with a dreamy gaze. “What’s your name?” she asked. 

The giant was confused by the question, and her placid demeanor, but dutifully replied, “Martin. Martin Maneater.” He paused midway through spreading sauce on his bread. “What about you?” Why am I asking this girl her name, when I’m just going to eat her anyway? To be polite? 

She giggled, her face flushing at the attention. “Oh, I’m Candy. Candy Caramello! It’s lovely to meet you!” Martin blinked, increasingly baffled as he looked down at her. She wasn’t afraid of him at all. In fact, she had a rapturous look that was enthusiastic enough to make him blush. A woman had never looked at him quite like that before. And gosh, she was pretty cute too… just his type: blonde, blue-eyed, busty, and completely adorable. 

“Um…” Martin suddenly found himself tongue-tied. What was wrong with him? He was supposed to eat her, not fawn over her! And yet… and yet… his heart was singing in his chest with a thrumming rapid enough to make him lightheaded. He abandoned his sandwich and sat down in a chair at the dining room table, loosening his grip on the little lady since she apparently wasn’t going to bolt. 

With his mind drawing a blank, he asked the first question that popped into his head. “How did you get here, Candy?”  

“Oh! I planted some magic beans and climbed a giant beanstalk! It was amazing!!” Candy chirped as she twisted a strand of golden hair around her finger. She caressed Martin’s giant finger with her other hand, reveling in how warm and soft his skin felt on hers. Martin blushed again at the physical contact. He liked it more than he cared to admit. 

“Ah, the beans… that makes sense…” Martin muttered. “They only grow for special people, you know…” 

“Is that so?” Candy said in a seductive tone, batting her eyes at him. Martin’s heart jumped as she twirled playfully in his loose fingers. 

“Y-yeah… they only grow for a human of exceptional stock, one that is… especially tasty.” The giant raised a brow, curious to see how the woman would take this information. 

She didn’t skip a beat. “Awww, so you think I’m tasty?” Candy flirted with a wink. The literal meaning of his words seemed to be lost on her. Martin couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“I’m sure you are,” he teased back, running his tongue over his lips.  

Candy’s eyes lingered on his lips longer than he felt comfortable, as he felt himself drooling over her scent. “The bean seller told me I could find true love with the magic of the beans!” she blurted out. Martin raised his eyebrows with surprise.  

“Oh! Uh… hmmm… that’s interesting…” Martin stammered. What was he supposed to say to that? 

“Can I kiss you?!” Candy’s abrupt intensity was shocking. 

Martin reddened. “K-kiss me?” 

“That’s how you find out if someone is your true love! You have to kiss them!” Candy insisted. “That’s how it works in the fairy tales!” 

Martin’s tongue tripped over his words as he became increasingly flustered. He was about to deny her assertion, tell her love didn’t work that way, but… her little face and body, resting in his hand, made his chest swell. He wanted to kiss her, badly. He was lonely, living in the clouds all by himself. He wanted a woman to love, to call his own, and here she was, literally sitting in the palm of his hand, begging for his affection. How could he possibly refuse? 

“O-okay. Sure. Yeah.” His heart pounded in his chest as he raised her up to his lips. He was tempted to scoop her up into his mouth, being the man-eating giant that he was, but he politely refrained and puckered his lips gently. He pressed his plush lips to her tiny body, feeling every soft curve she had to offer. She kissed him back, her touch light and soft. He could feel her excited heartbeat pulsing in her chest. He pinned her down in his palm with rising ardor as he leaned into the sensual kiss. He could even taste her incredible caramel sweetness as his tongue touched her body. She was divine. His entire body burned with a sudden fiery passion that radiated from her touch on his lips all the way down to his toes. 

He could hardly tear himself away when he finished kissing her. He craved more. She lay flat on her back in his palm, hot and slightly soggy, her cheeks red as a rose and her eyes glistening with stars. She looked like a tiny angel. 

“I-I think you’re the one, Martin,” she uttered breathlessly. “That was amazing.” 

“Mmmmm, I agree,” Martin purred, caressing her body tenderly with his finger. He couldn’t believe his luck. He leaned down for another kiss, this one short and sweet but no less passionate. “Who knew a human woman could make me feel this way...” 

Martin cupped her in his hands and took her into his living room. He reclined on the couch and relaxed, holding the tiny woman against his chest. As he drifted off for a nap, he hoped in his heart that this whole encounter wasn’t all just a dream, and the tiny woman in his hands was, in fact, real. Before he closed his eyes, he looked down at her, snuggled up in the curve of his palm on his chest, rocking slightly with every beat of his heart. She was so trusting, already fast asleep in his hand after a long and exhausting day of climbing. 

Maybe true love was real after all. 

Writing Masterpost

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

Witchy Woman (6/10)

0.5 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | AO3 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

art by @cocohook38

Summary: When Emma came into her position as Storybrooke Coven Leader, she ended things with the powerful Vampire Overlord, Killian Jones. She’s spent over a decade working alongside him and ignoring the growing tension between them.

During his best mate’s wedding, Killian decides he is done waiting. He is ready to have his mate back in his arms (and bed) again. Emma is not an easy woman to woo, but Killian has never backed down from a challenge.

When Emma’s jilted ex-boyfriend returns to town and Emma goes missing, Killian will stop at nothing to get her back and ensure that nothing can ever separate them again.

Rating: E

CW: Mention of domestic abuse, blood and blood drinking (vampires), threatening situations, minor violence, death, mention of parental death

Entry for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023 (@cssns)

Tagging: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4 , @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert

A huge thank you to @ultraluckycatnd for betaing this beast. Thank you so much!! Another thank you to @kmomof4 for sanity-checking and talking through several points with me. Dear reader, I ask that you trust me a bit through this chapter.

“Why won’t you tell me where we are going?” Emma demanded as they walked toward the city centre with their hands clasped together, fingers intertwined.

“Because it would spoil the surprise.”

Emma huffed at him. The heat of her feigned annoyance was tempered by the smile tugging at her lips. She couldn’t fight her smile; holding Killian’s hand and walking together like tourists in their town made her feel a light-heartedness that she hadn’t allowed herself since taking on the role of Head Witch of Storybrooke. She relaxed into the moment and allowed him to guide her, enjoying the freedom that came with letting someone else be in charge.

As they turned on to the main thoroughfare through Storybrooke, a sea of white canvas tents could be seen lining the street. Most of the town seemed to be out with their families leisurely strolling between the tents. Between patrons Emma could make out tables set up with various foodstuffs and fine handmade crafts. She looked up with curiosity at Killian. “The Farmer’s Market?”

“I find I have the most inexplicable urge to ensure that my kitchen is filled with treats.”

“But vampires don’t have to eat.” She was fishing a bit, but she needed to hear him confirm what she was trying very hard not to hope for.

“Aye, but witches do.”

Emma warmed at his words. After a lifetime of providing for her younger sisters and putting her entire being into her work for the supernatural community, having someone do something solely for her felt like the most indulgent luxury. It was a ridiculously small thing. And, for some reason, it meant absolutely everything.

He tugged gently on her hand and led her into the busy street. He put their joined hands tight against his back so that he was able to keep her close and make a path for her through the crowd of familiar faces. She peered over at the stalls as they walked and made a mental note of the ones she wanted to look at closer. Killian’s purposeful steps made it clear that he had a destination in mind and she was interested to see what all he had planned, so she kept the list to herself for now.

“Ah, our first destination.” Killian nodded toward a stall on their left, pulling her attention to a single table with a tablecloth and a flat stone disc. A young woman sat in front of the sign, so all Emma could read was epe pens, which certainly didn’t help her figure out what this first stop was. 

As they approached, the woman smiled at them in greeting. “Good morning. Two?”

“Aye,” Killian answered. The woman quickly moved into action, pulling a pitcher of batter from somewhere hidden under the table and pouring it over the stone surface in a quick, smooth motion. When she dipped back under the table, Emma snorted at the words now visible on the sign - Crêpe Happens. An impossibly large tub of Nutella surfaced before the woman stood and returned to her task.

“The first destination is fresh crêpes that won’t make it back to your kitchen?”

“Your stomach has been growling since you sighted the cheese display that Remy sets up every weekend.” Killian pulled her closer and kissed her nose. “Don’t shop while hungry. Isn’t that a thing people say?” He handed her the crêpe before grabbing his own and stepping back toward the crowded street.

The morning passed quickly as they meandered through the market stopping to procure everything that caught her eye. They made their way back home to Killian’s home, she corrected, carrying canvas bags laden with artisan cheeses, farm fresh vegetables and fruits, and more baked goods than were reasonable.

“Swan, last night was…” Killian started, breaking the companionable silence that had fallen between them. Emma’s stomach dropped. Nothing good followed an opening statement like that.

“Love, no. Nothing like that.” He stopped walking and turned toward her. She could feel him looking at her, but she couldn’t bring her eyes up to meet his. He released a breath, the warm air rushing over her head before he continued. “Emma, I never stopped wanting you, craving every part of you that you will give me, sometimes even daring to dream that you would let me back into your heart. Last night, I hoped you felt…erm, I have to ask. Are we…? What I mean to say is, is this something that you want? You and me - can we be an us?”

With the heavy weight of her initial fear lifted from her, Emma finally raised her gaze to meet his. His expression was open to her, a book wanting desperately to be read. What she read in them filled her with a new kind of fear and the urge to run because Killian wanted her. His eyes were promising her forever. Being with him again felt good and the sex was, well, there was no question they were compatible. But, he was asking for commitment and labels and all the lovey-dovey girlfriend things she was absolute shit at.

“Killian,” she sighed, “I like what we’re doing. Can we keep doing this? This is working. Does it really have to be a…a something?”

“Of course not, Swan.” The seriousness in his expression vanished beneath a mask of playfulness before he turned to continue walking back to his home. “Does this include repeats of last night?”

“Absolutely.”

“And dates?”

“Yes.”

“So…we are dating?”

“We are testing the waters. We’re not exclusive or anything, that would be a something.”

She thought she heard a low growl, but Killian’s expression was still playful as they turned onto the path to his door. “And, we are most definitely not a something.”

“Right.” The lie was bitter on her tongue. This is better. This won’t hurt when it ends.

Killian opened the door for her, gesturing with his armful of bags into the welcoming entry. “Coming in, love?”

Emma nodded. “I have to grab my stuff, but I can’t stay. I promised Mary Margaret lunch."

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

Killian berated himself as Emma's car drove out of view of his study windows. He knew better than to press her into defining the relationship. All morning, he kept replaying the sweet words she said the night before - I am yours. He had known they were merely words uttered in the heat of the moment, driven more out of a need for him to satisfy her physical demands than out of an acknowledgement of a committed relationship. He knew that was all they were.

And yet...

The domesticity of the morning mixed with the fact she came to him before that failed date, that she had told him that she was ready, had lulled him into thinking that she meant she was ready to establish a something - he scoffed - with him. He realised, now, that she hadn't clarified if she was ready to try dating again in general or in exclusivity. Given she had not had a date in years, perhaps not since the one he had come across with that bloody werewolf alpha, he should have considered that she was opening herself up to dating - in general - again. He assumed, truthfully, he blindly hoped, that she was opening the door to him that she slammed shut all those years ago.

Fortunately, she had permitted him to continue courting her. She was giving him a chance and with it, he intended to continue to prove to her that she could rely on him and trust him with anything, even her heart.

Sighing, he poured a finger of whiskey from his decanter. He took a slow sip from his glass, basking in the burning of the liquor as it distracted, if only momentarily, from the ache, and the hurt forming in his chest. He knew she needed time and he would give her all the time she needed. But understanding what she needed and being resolved to give it to her did not prevent the creeping sadness he felt that she still was not ready to jump wholeheartedly into this with him. Not yet. He reminded himself. Not yet, but there was always hope in time.

He took another sip before settling into his desk chair to research those somewhat familiar sigils. Emma would be glad for the information to help solve this latest mystery.

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

“You did WHAT?!” Mary Margaret was dangerously close to yelling. The air around them was shimmering red with her frustration. “Emma, you didn’t.”

Emma shrugged. “You didn’t see the way he was looking at me. It is too much, too soon.”

“It has been over a decade.” Mary Margaret weighed each word carefully. When Emma didn’t respond, she continued. “You have been dancing around each other for over a decade. I thought you were talking about really trying this time. What happened?”

“I can’t be responsible for his heart.”

“You ran.”

“No, it is not like that…”

“It is exactly like that,” Mary Margaret countered. “You ran with your tail between your legs because you saw something real. Something that would mean something. You say you can’t be responsible for his heart. Emma, like it or not, that man gave you his heart all those years ago. You’ve been keeping it tucked away under all that pretence of friendship and professionalism or whatever nonsense you tell yourself, but it clearly has always been yours.”

“I didn’t ask for it,” Emma mumbled, pushing her spoon through the cold soup on the table before her.

“You didn’t have to. What are you going to do?”

“Give it back?” An angry pulse of magic hit her and Mary Margaret’s glare made it clear she didn’t regret the slip of her magic. Emma held up both hands in a sign of surrender. “It is not like I broke things off with him.”

“Again.”

“I just said that we weren’t exclusive or anything. That’s hardly ending anything,” Emma said, ignoring Mary Margaret’s interruption.

“You’re smarter than that.”

“He said it was fine! Why are you making it seem like I have done something horrible? What is so bad about not putting a label on it?”

“You told a vampire that you don’t want to be exclusive.”

“Yeah?”

“There is no creature in the realms as possessive as a vampire! He wasn’t asking you to live the rest of your lifetimes together. He was asking you to allow him to protect and possess your heart. You basically told him that he wasn’t worthy of the honour or of your trust. He has spent all this time showing you that he was more than deserving. And, you just told him that you would prefer to share it with several suitors than entrust him.”

“Several suitors?” Emma scoffed. “If I can’t put a label on one relationship, how could I possibly be juggling multiple?” But something that felt a lot like guilt was chewing at her.

Mary Margaret cut her eyes at Emma over the mug from which she was drinking- seriously, Emma?!

A text lit up on her phone, saving her from continuing this conversation. Another area was found covered in sigils and corruption, this one near the lake. Excusing herself and paying for their meal, Emma took off to investigate the new site. It was fresher than the last one, according to Ruby’s text. She hoped it would provide her with some answers.

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

Despite the bleakness before her, Emma was unable to escape into the work that needed to be done. Her mind kept coming back to her conversations with both Killian and Mary Margaret. She wanted to pretend that Mary Margaret was being dramatic, but the awful feeling that accompanied her since her conversation with Killian suggested that her sister had a point. Neglecting her heart had been the only way to endure working alongside him for so long. In her attempt to protect herself, she unintentionally hurt him. She needed to fix it.

What did that mean exactly?

She allowed herself to be vulnerable with him. Wasn’t that evidence aplenty that he’d already earned her trust? Not enough. She was surprised that it didn’t feel like enough for her. The forever in the depths of his eyes felt less scary than it had this morning. Rather than the commitment she thought he was demanding from her, she realised what he had been offering her, promising her. It was exactly what she wished for when they danced at Mary Margaret’s wedding. She let fear kick it away, a knee-jerk reaction. Fuck, what did I do?

“I got Ruby’s text.”

“SHIT!” Emma yelped, jumping out of her skin and her heart racing with the fright. “Killian! Gods.”

“I had no intention of scaring you, love.” He wrapped his arm around her in a quick side hug and kissed the top of her head in greeting. Releasing her, he scanned the decay around them.

“I know. I was just lost in thought.”

“If you’re trying to figure out the sigils, I have made some progress on that.”

“Actually, I was thinking about what we discussed earlier. About this, us.”

“You were clear that…”

“I know, but I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what exactly, Swan?” Killian’s eyes turned to ice, the muscle in his jaw ticking. He was protecting himself and Emma felt awful that he was preparing for her to break his heart. But it also gave her an odd sense of security and peace with which to speak her next words. Killian was trying to build against the pain of losing her. A pain she was trying to avoid with her words this morning. A pain, she realised, that he wouldn’t cause her because he would feel it just as sharply.

“There is an us. We are most definitely a something.”

“Oh, aye? And what kind of something are we?”

“The real couple-y kinda thing.”

“You’re certain?”

Done with the emotional conversations that kept surfacing today, Emma pulled him into her and crashed her lips against his. A surprised noise escaped him before he deepened the kiss. He wrapped one arm low around her, pressing her tighter to him. His hand cradled her head, thumb rubbing her cheek gently.

When they finally broke apart, Killian lifted her chin so she had to meet his eyes. His expression was serious and his voice hardly more than a growl when he spoke. “No one else gets to kiss you like this, Swan.”

She whimpered at the command in his voice. Killian let out a low chuckle. “Hmm, let’s see what we can figure out here. Then, we can go back and I will show you all the things that no one else can do to you.”

The following afternoon was the longest of her life as they carefully walked the desolate scene, searching and finding nothing to indicate who was casting these spells or what would happen to Storybrooke and its inhabitants if they were successful.

I promise that I did not do that just to add some relationship drama. It was important to me that Emma make a very conscious and very intentional decision to pursue a fully defined relationship with Killian. We've seen where her emotions are but that doesn't necessarily mean that she will follow. Often when her heart goes one way, Emma handcuffs it before running away from it as quickly as possible. I would love to know what you think.

[thedizzydinosaur]

March 24 Dance: hands, lead/follow, pattens.

"Are you sure about this?" Ethari scanned the pattens that the young man had pushed into his hands, scanning over the simple, but elegant design of the horn cuffs, render in seay to follow but still exquisite details.

"Very." The young skywing elf wrung his hands in what had to be nervousness. "She's my world, and, well, I.. "

"You want the best for her." Ethari smiled softly at the boy, and oh, he was just a boy, no older than 18 perhaps?"

Ah, he was that young once, dancing around his feelings over a certain someone who was currently chasing some guard recruits around the forest.

"So, do you want to get started on this? My schedule is pretty clear this afternoon, and i doubt you want to keep your sweet heart waiting..."

-

The boy, as it turned out, was a pretty good student.

He was attentive, absorbing every bit of information Ethari sent his way as he led him step by step through the prosses of silver-smithing.

First was heating up the bar of metal slightly, then feeding it through a set of rollers to flatten it to a nice even thickness

"Now we need to trace the patten on with a scribe"

The two halves of the first cuff were traced out onto the metal, along with some careful markings to show where the raised, petal like patten was to be added, before ethari took over again to cut the sides out.

"It's not that I don't trust you, lad, but the shears are sharp, and even I've nearly lost fingers to them."

Ethari didn't miss the way the boy's hands almost instantly vanished into his coat pockets when he said that.

Funny thing was that the boys hands seemed to have a fuzzy edge to them. Like they were slightly behind frosted glass.

Ethari shook his head.

A trick of the light.

-

They worked right into the evening, resulting in the completion of rough shapes of two horn cuffs, ready for refinement and decorating, before Ethari had to down tools to start dinner

The boy, who's name seemed to consistently slip Ethari’s mind, was staying just outside the village, as the inn was full.

Ethari did extend the offer to stay over in the guest room but was met with a polite refusal.

He left for his camp just before Runaan returned, cussing out a particularly mouthy recruit who had the gall to call him old.

"You are only 42, love," Ethari hummed, pulling his beloved, grumpy husband into a slow dance in the kitchen as they waited for dinner to finish cooking. "Hardly old."

"40." Runaan corrected with a grumble.

"I refuse to let you miss out on two years, darling~" Ethari crooned, lifting Runaan up into a twirl.

"And you said that you had nothing scheduled this afternoon." Runaan was smiling now. "So who was your supprise walk in?"

"One half of a pair of lovers" Ethari replied. "Looking for the perfect gift for his heart"

"Oh?"

"Yes. A pair of custom horn cuffs."

The timer at the stove dinged, and the two of them broke from there dance.

-

The skwing lad was back bright and early the next day.

Callum, as he reminded Ethari with a wry smile, picked up the art of engraving quickly, and it did not take long for him to start gushing over the young lady who held his heart in her hands.

Bold, sweet, brave, tender and sassy. You'd think she'd been sent by the moon herself the way callum spoke of her.

He was so in love, and that love was translated into each and every line engraved as the day went on.

Ethari had to wonder if the protective brambles carefully coiled under the moon lilies and roses meant anything in particular.

-

There was muttering in the village that a ghost had been spotted slinking around the village boundaries.

No one would mention the name of exactly who it was, but the village guards were getting twitchy, which was never a good sign.

Callum assured Ethari that he'd be OK as he slipped away into the growing twilight, precious cargo stashed away safely in his bag.

Ethari still watched on from his workshops doors, eyes following the skywing picked his way through the market and out past the boundary stones, just to make sure.

-

Callum dipped though the underbrush, keeping one ear out for the smallest sounds of village guards, assassins (trainee or otherwise) or anyone else that might try to follow him as he left the village, and made for the meeting point.

The adoraburr meadow was dark as dusk settled in, aside for the lightning bugs that drifted on the breeze.

With a sigh, he finally let the illustration he'd been living under for the last couple of days.

He flexed all 5 fingers as his skin regained its pink hew and the horns melted away into moon dust.

"Say, stranger, have I seen you before"

Callum sighed before turning and smiling up at the beautiful moon nymph that was sitting on a nearby bolder, the cheesiest smile in existence on her face.

"I'm not sure if I've ever met a goddess before." Callum zinged back as Rayla hopped down from her perch to greet him with a hug.

"I got you something." Callum returned the hug in full force.

"And I got you something ~"

"Dare I ask?"

Rayla grinned, and scooted out of his grip.

"Not telling~" she sung "not yet, at least"

Callum rolled his eyes just a little. He grabbed his bag, and started to follow her out of the meadow.

"Your uncles are doing well, by the way." He told her as they disappeared into the treeline. "But I noticed a 'no unattended Jr assassins' sign next to the door?

"Oh... yeh.... that might be my fault...."

[savage-rhi]

Mending Shadows // Chapter 13

Summary:

Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.

Click here to read on AO3

The Freyr District of Gralea was quite renown. It had no bounds and was filled with skyscrapers attempting to stretch into the heavens, and tons of shops clustered off in intricate sections. From the well paved roads, and the heavy whiffs of floral smells from the markets, the area was well taken care of by the people who dwelled within. Y/N remembered feeling small in Insomnia years ago, and the District trudged up similar feelings they had long thought lost. By the time both Tuti and they arrived to the shop called Vanir, their trepidations ended swiftly. It didn't take long to find an elegant attire for the evening; something that wasn't too plain, yet would help Y/N blend in with the array of people they were to meet. A half hour later after getting their clothing tailored, and purchased, Y/N was led into the streets of Gralea with Tuti putting on her best tour guide persona. 

Y/N hadn’t seen a lot of Gralea, but they had come to learn most of the city’s spirit had faded over time due to the war. With endless money going to battles, there wasn’t much left for the material world. It was something Tuti took great care into pointing out, how much the public scenery changed within the past ten years. During their conversation, Y/N realized they had taken Insomnia for granted in the past. No city was perfect, but it did have a more welcoming character by comparison to Gralea. They clutched tightly onto the bag with their gown inside, and began to feel homesick for Lucis, and for the people they once called friends. 

“Did I talk too much about the Infernium Theater’s architecture?” Tuti softly gasped, catching herself having gone overboard. 

Y/N shook their head. “No, no. It’s actually neat how you know so much about it.”

“Oh, phew!” Tuti wiped her forehead and chuckled. “I was beginning to think I was a bore! You look upset though. Are you alright?” 

Y/N nodded. They went quiet for a bit as they crossed a street. An array of cars drove past them, and Y/N noted how different the body types were in comparison to those they had seen in Lucis. 

“I won’t lie,” Y/N began while Tuti listened. “Despite what led me here to Niflheim, I miss my home. At least what my life was like before.” 

“Come to think of it,” Tuti hummed. “What was your occupation back in Lucis?” 

“I was more or less a treasure hunter. People would pay me to travel around Lucis and find things for them, or I’d go looking for scraps and other goods people leave behind so I could turn a profit.” Y/N felt a sense of pride in themself that they hadn’t experienced in a long time. It added more mixed feelings to what they were enduring. 

“That sounds so exciting!” Tuti exclaimed. The light in her eyes seemed to grow. “I can imagine you’d get quite the coin performing jobs like that!” 

Y/N shook their head while laughing at Tuti’s naivety. “Sadly, Scavenging pays scraps in comparison to most professions. I had a small apartment in Galdin Quay, and I was saving up for my own land. I had maybe another five years left to go before I could purchase a home.” 

“If it’s any consolation,” Tuti smiled sadly, sensing sadness in Y/N’s tone toward the end of their sentence. “The gods surely smiled upon you when you arrived in Niflheim. I mean…you’re living in the palace under the Chancellor’s roof, and the fact you two even met in the first place is a miracle! I’d love to think fate is giving you a hand after the hardships you've had to deal with." 

“I guess you’re right in a way.” Y/N knew Tuti meant well. She had been nothing but kind and welcoming since the start, but there were times when her positivity rubbed Y/N off the wrong way, such as now. It wasn’t Tuti’s fault that she was in the dark about the real truths behind the blessings Y/N had received. 

“He speaks kindly of you.” 

“Ardyn--er, Chancellor Izunia?” Y/N corrected themself while mentally kicking their brain for forgetting the basics of public etiquette. There were so many rules to mere talking that Y/N felt like breaking them all despite the consequences. Social points be damned. 

“Yes!” Tuti giggled at Y/N’s fumble and smiled. “I hate to admit it, but I eavesdrop a lot! Sometimes my assignments are so mundane, that I have to latch onto whatever is near for my own sanity. I think most of us Imperial Help are wired like that. Anyhow, he sounds daresay chipper when regarding you.” 

Chipper…? That was an unusual way to describe Ardyn that it almost sounded out of character to Y/N. Tuti had no reason to lie about it. She had been truthful about everything and anything Y/N had asked of her. They couldn’t say the same for the very man they happened to be discussing. 

“He probably speaks as such because of the fact I’m using my sickness to help him find a cure for the scourge,” Y/N grimaced at lying to her, but held firm. "Why are you telling me this?"

Tuti cleared her throat. “You two fight quite often. It’s not my business, but I do worry. I’ve seen how sad you’ve gotten after the fact. I wanted to reassure you that Chancellor Izunia may be, pardon my language--an asshole--but when he’s talked to others about you it’s like poetry; nothing but joy and pride. I know you’re nervous about making your debut tonight, but I know you'll be well received with how Chancellor Izunia has hyped you up. You have nothing to fear but your own fear.” 

Y/N stifled a laugh at Tuti calling Ardyn an asshole. With how upbeat of a person Tuti was, hearing her curse felt out of left field. Y/N smiled softly while combing over the rest of Tuti’s words. They paused however and did a double take. 

“What’s the other reason?” 

“Oh that,” Tuti smiled so big it scared Y/N a little bit. If they didn’t know better, Tuti looked just about as mischievous as Ardyn when he was up to something criminal. “You know what they say about men, they tend to be jerks to the person they admire most!”

Y/N glared after rolling their eyes. “I can assure you Tuti, that is not the case at all. If Chancellor Izunia ever saw me in that light, it would bring about the next apocalypse.”

Tuti laughed so hard she snorted. “I only jest!” 

“So you’ve said numerous times now…” Y/N muttered.

Despite feeling embarrassed, Y/N joined in on the laughter. The bit of joy was soon tarnished by a wave of pain that took hold of Y/N’s chest. It hurt so much that they dropped the shopping bag with their attire in it. They stopped in their tracks, left hand grabbing at their right shoulder while twisted knots traveled down their nerves. 

“Y/N!” Tuti gasped. She rested a hand on Y/N’s left shoulder, and beckoned them to look her in the eye. “From a one to a ten, where is it at?” 

“A seven,” Y/N harshly whispered, trying to keep themself from grimacing. “I need to sit down somewhere.” 

“Of course!” Tuti nodded. She carefully glanced around, making sure they were both not attracting a commotion. “I know just the place! We can go through the rest of the Chancellor’s protocols there!” 

Several blocks, and a bus ride later, Y/N found themself sitting in the middle of a large botanical garden. From ground to ceiling, it was filled with a lineup of vegetation and flowers so vibrant that it rivaled the painted sky’s the gods created for men to behold. The earthy aromas reminded Y/N of Lucis, of being in Duscae sweating like a pig yet embracing the fun of the unknown. Most importantly, it was quiet and serene. Save for a few souls who came and went, it had been just Y/N and Tuti at the epicenter of the greenhouse. They might as well had been in another universe. 

For almost two hours, the Imperial Gardens were a sight to behold. It was a marvel to gaze upon while Tuti ensured Y/N was stabilized, and had taken the notes Ardyn needed for documentation. Everything from temperature, to pulse rate was scratched down in a pocket sized notebook to help the Chancellor and Chief Besithia’s research. 

Y/N felt a twinge of guilt seeing Tuti go through the trouble. Ardyn never so much as looked at the notes she made, and merely filed them away. When Y/N had asked why he had Tuti bother with it, Ardyn proclaimed it was to ensure Tuti’s compliance to keep quiet about Y/N’s infection by, in his words, “throwing her into the thick of it.”. Secondly, it was to give Tuti something tangible to boost her morale; to make her feel important to the alleged cause of seeking a cure for the most dangerous disease in all of Eos. Y/N hated to admit it, but Ardyn wasn’t wrong about that. Tuti took this task just as seriously as she did any other assignment the Palace Warden would throw upon her. 

“Are the pills Chancellor Izunia gave you kicking in now?” Tuti asked, looking up from her notebook. 

“I would say so,” Y/N nodded. To distract themself from their guilt, they contently looked at one of the large purple flowers in the greenhouse. “Should I flare tonight at the event, hopefully no one sees anything.” 

“Just in case, I think we should apply some make up to your hot spots to play it safe.” Tuti suggested.

“Hate to say it, but I agree with you.” The thought of having makeup caked onto their skin didn’t sound appealing, but neither did a lynch mob going after both them and Ardyn. 

Tuti wrapped up the last of her notes, and put her notebook back into her purse she had been carrying. She let out a deep breath, finally allowing herself some peace after being riddled with concern.

“I don’t think I ever asked how you got sick to begin with.” Tuti said sadly, furrowing her brows after meeting Y/N’s gaze. “If I were in your shoes, I don’t know how I’d handle it all.” 

Y/N palmed at the knee of their pants, recalling the goblin and then the faces of the people they had killed. They couldn’t look Tuti in the eye while those memories played out, and then like a shadow, leeched back into the dark to await another moment of weakness. 

“It was from a goblin,” Y/N murmured. That was all they would allow themself to give. “To be honest with you, I feel like I’m barely hanging on by a thread. Y’know, the Chancellor had a chance to put me down. Honestly, he would’ve done me a favor. ” 

“You shouldn’t speak like that,” Tuti shook her head in disbelief. The worry in her gaze grew as she glanced around the gardens, listening to the tranquil waterfall nearby. “You’re the first person I’ve heard of who has lasted longer than a month from infection. It’s unheard of. I can’t speak to the pain you endure, and I’m sure if the shoe were on the other foot, I’d feel the same as you, but this can’t be for nothing.” 

“Have you lost loved ones to the scourge?” Y/N asked.

“Many,” Tuti admitted. “As have most people in Gralea. They say that the scourge first popped up in Niflheim before it spread around to the other continents. Some people believe it’s a judgement from the gods due to the slaying of Shiva on our lands. You know, on the eve of the Chancellor’s coronation, outbreaks began to happen more frequently.” Tuti sighed. “To have something formidable like that occur when getting promoted is rotten luck. Finding you, is the break I’m sure Chancellor Izunia needs.” 

Y/N did a double take when Tuti brought up scourge infections happening more prominently when Ardyn arrived. It made sense, that such a calamity would ensure due to the fact he is Adagium. Y/N wondered if Ardyn had been purposefully spreading it around. Then again, it didn’t seem to interest him much in the grand scheme of things. They made a mental note to somehow drudge that up later to him. 

“I don’t understand,” Y/N furrowed their brows at a thought. “If infections are so bad here, why are folks acting…normal about it?” 

“Most people are in denial,” Tuti said in truth. “I myself am too most days. It’s the only way to keep one’s sanity intact. On the bright side, the outbreaks have been more concentrated to the West of Niflheim. Gralea has been spared most of the brunt.” 

“You seem to know a lot about this.”

“Only because I researched quite extensively when Chancellor Izunia told me I’d be assigned as your Keeper!” Tuti chuckled. 

Y/N was taken back. “You did all that, just to help me out?” 

“Of course! I didn’t want to go into this blind.” Tuti smiled and rubbed the back of her neck. “Anyway, please…don’t speak of wishing you were better off gone. I know we haven’t known each other long, but I’d miss your company. You’re one of the few things I have, that’s kept me going at this job.” 

Tuti’s words did little to deter Y/N from their end goal in this mess, but they wouldn’t lie that her empathy did touch their heart. Y/N furrowed their brows the longer they thought about Tuti’s last remark, but before they could proceed, a familiar voice called out to them. 

“My dear!” The deep voice of Commander Pierce echoed throughout the garden. His light steps approached as did another set. Y/N glanced over the younger man at his side. He had dark blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and a stride that suggested he carried himself with high regard. His military garments didn’t do much to give the impression he was welcoming in Y/N’s eyes. Their memories of dealing with imperial soldiers at the Cape further made them weary. That is until the young man smiled their way and gave a small head bow. His whole persona shifted, making him warm. Y/N couldn’t help but smile back in return despite his general appearance.

“Commander Pierce!” Tuti exclaimed in a whisper, standing up immediately and giving a formal bow. She gestured with her heard for Y/N to do the same. By the time both Commander Pierce and his follower approached, it was too late for formalities. 

Y/N made a face, offering a small head bow. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to fret!” Commander Pierce chuckled and held up a hand. “It can’t be easy learning a million customs. Congratulations by the way on making your debut tonight. Word of your story has spread through the empire fast. Many folk are dying to meet the Lucian who dared to chart their own course away from home. Had I known what you endured, I would’ve been more considerate on the airship.” 

Y/N swallowed. It was dawning on them more and more how big this lie had gotten out of hand, and yet the grains of truth scattered about kept them tethered to the plot. 

“No, please,” Y/N shook their head. “There’s nothing to forgive. I was too shaken up to say anything. You were nothing but kind to me.” 

“That does warm my heart a great deal,” he sighed in relief and then gestured to the man beside him. “This is my son, Loqui. We were just enjoying the gardens while I happen to be in the capitol taking a rest from the war.” 

“A pleasure,” Loqui said simply, giving a small wave with his right hand before it turned into a fist and he placed it over his heart. He glanced over Y/N, seemingly making mental notes here and there. 

The way Loqui was observing Y/N made them uncomfortable. It was as if he was staring at a bug and was unsure if he found it to be beautiful or if he wanted to squish it. Y/N could feel it was difficult for him to differentiate between the two concepts. 

“Is there something on my face or do you like staring people down like vulture?” Y/N quipped without thinking. 

Tuti let out a slight gasp and covered her mouth, half expecting a brawl to converse. 

“Do forgive me, I’m just admiring the view.” Loqui said with a playful grin. “I’ve heard of Lucian’s being fierce and formidable. It’s one of thing to hear tales, but another to see one in the flesh. You don’t strike me as dangerous.” 

“That’s because you just met me,” Y/N retorted sarcastically. From his cadence, Y/N sensed that Loqui was truly being comical and not menacing. They did their best to ignore how warm their face felt and grinned as did he. “Last I checked we’re both human beings at the end of the day. I’m not some monster out of a fairy tale coming to conquer everything you stand for.” 

“In that case,” Loqui cleared his throat. “I’d love to get acquainted with you better.” 

“Oh, I bet you would.” Y/N teased, seeing Loqui blush faintly as he nervously laughed. 

Commander Pierce's face flushed as he glanced between Loqui and Y/N. His features shifted as he gave Loqui a strong nudge to his side, causing the younger man to nearly yelp. 

“Do forgive my son’s manners,” Commander Pierce murmured, rolling his eyes at Loqui when the younger man shot him daggers. He turned his attention back to Y/N. “He has a lot to learn.” 

“As do I,” Y/N said, noting the impish grin that crossed Loqui’s lips. He went neutral before his father could catch wind. “I’ve been unwell today. I apologize for being forward.” 

“Think nothing of it!” Commander Pierce proclaimed. “I can imagine you’re feeling a lot today. I’ll be at the ceremony tonight on security duty. Should you need anything, don’t hesitate to have an Imperial Helper call on me.”

“I appreciate that,” Y/N nodded. “How has the war been paving out? I haven't heard much about it.”

Commander Pierce was taken back. It became obvious to Y/N he wasn’t allowed to divulge anything sensitive like that, considering the circumstances. Nevertheless, he chose his words carefully and proceeded. 

“It’s hard to say,” Commander Pierce spoke sincerely. “The empire is doing as well as we can. There is a great deal I wish to discuss with Chancellor Izunia. I plan to make arrangements with him, but would it trouble you to send him a quick message on my behalf?” 

“Not at all,” Y/N replied. “What do you want me to tell him?” 

The Commander gestured for Y/N to step a little closer so he could whisper, keeping both Loqui and Tuti out of earshot. Y/N complied, furrowing their brows out of concern when he began to confide in them.

“There’s a wolf wearing the pelt of a sheep. He’ll know what it means. Keep this in confidence, and be careful.” 

“I will,” Y/N murmured back. From how pressing Commander Pierce's tone was, Y/N could tell this had troubled the older man a great deal. His own insecurity regarding the message made Y/N shudder. Whatever was going on, he was scared. It said a lot coming from a man who no doubt killed many in his time. 

Y/N wanted to ask further, curiosity having bitten down hard on them, but before they could, Commander Pierce retreated back and smiled warmly. 

“You have my thanks,” He said sincerely and then gestured for Loqui to straighten up. “Please, we’ve taken up so much of your time in the gardens. My son and I will be off.” 

“It was good seeing you. Thanks, Pierce--oh crap, I forgot--”

“Nothing to fret! Consider us friends, at least in informal circles. May all of Gralea welcome you with open arms.” Commander Pierce chuckled. He gave a half bow to Y/N and Tuti before patting Loqui on the back to get a move on. As the two ventured off, Loqui suddenly halted, spun around, and took a few steps toward Y/N.

“Did you forget something?” Y/N laughed, seeing the look of determination on his face suddenly blunder. 

“Whatever is left of my pride as an Imperial, I’ll tell you that!” Loqui quipped with a laugh. His confidence waned as he stammered. “I know you’re going to have quite an audience tonight, but it would be an honor if we could dance at some point. if you’d be kind enough to indulge me that is?" 

Y/N shook their head, glancing to Tuti who suppressed a giggle while giving a modest shrug. 

“Looks like you’re going to have to wait and find out!” Y/N teased. 

“I’ll gladly wait all night!” Loqui laughed. He performed a playful bow and then marched back to meet up with his father. 

As soon as the pair were quite a distance away, Commander Pierce didn’t hesitate to slap Loqui upside the head. The impact along with Loqui’s yelp traveled around the greenhouse. Both Y/N and Tuti looked at each other flabbergasted before the pair erupted into laughter, thankful the men were long gone. 

“So much for being nervous this evening!” Tuti exclaimed in between breaths. “You got him wound up like a clock spring!” 

“That was not my intention!” Y/N breathed, wiping away stray tears that had come tumbling down from their bout. “He was acting insufferable so I returned the favor.” 

“Honey, that’s called flirting.” 

“Can it, Tuti.” Y/N forewarned playfully. 

“Well, can’t help it if a gal is calling it like it is!” Tuti said in her defense. She let out a deep breath, settling her giggles. “So, are you going to dance with him?” 

“Maybe out of courtesy for his father I will,” Y/N mused. “I met Commander Pierce on an airship when Ardyn returned home with me. He helped us out quite a bit.” 

“You did it again, speaking informally.” Tuti sighed. 

Y/N face palmed themself. “I’m never going to get this down. Why can’t people just call each other by their names, why the formality?” 

“That’s the price of tradition I’m afraid,” Tuti furrowed her brows before giving a reassuring smile. “And you will get it down eventually! You weren’t raised as an imperial, nor a formal Lucian. I wouldn’t beat yourself up. But speaking of formalities, I need to be getting you back to the palace to get ready!”

“It’s already that time?” Y/N’s eyes widened a bit. 

“Yep! I suggest we take the next bus, and then I’ll phone up a palace cabby to come fetch us! We can go over your entrance in the meantime!” 

Y/N felt themself growing overwhelmed that they merely nodded to Tuti’s plan of action. They were then pulled by Tuti’s right arm as she led them both out of the green house, and out into the streets. Skyscrapers, cars, and people flew by in a flash and all the while, Y/N’s heart pounded thunderously in their chest. Tonight was going to make or break the act both Ardyn and themself agreed to. 

Y/N wasn’t one that did much praying to the gods--and given the circumstances with Ardyn--didn’t believe such beings would see them in a positive light, but Y/N sent out a small wish hoping they wouldn’t lose their nerve. 

[middleearthpixie]

Brilliant Disguise ~ Chapter Fifteen

Summary: Speech therapist Josephine Asharm has been brought into Erebor to work with Bifur, but trying to find her place among people who eye her suspiciously would be difficult enough under normal circumstances, but when Sophie finds herself caught between the king, his most trusted lieutenant, and the dwarf she’s there to help? She’s certain no good can come of it. Being of Man, not only does she stand out in the dwarf kingdom, she’s not entirely certain she’s actually welcome there at all. 

Thorin only agreed to allow Sophie to live amongst them out of a sense of duty to Bifur, who is recovering from an odd head injury (is there any other way to describe having an axe blade lodged in one’s head, only to have it later dislodged during the Battle of the Five Armies?) Before the battle, he spoke only khuzdul. But since it? He’s regained the ability to speak Westron—if only he could but remember any of it. As for Thorin? He’s trying his damndest to ignore the speech therapist, not to mention his own growing feelings for her, even as he is also recovering from his near fatal wounding in the same battle. 

Both Sophie and Thorin are haunted by their pasts and are uncertain of their futures, but sometimes, chances must be taken…  

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Josephine (Sophie) Asharm 

Characters:Sophie, Thorin, Heather, Lucy Trisven, Gimli, Narnerra

Warnings: None 

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.4k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

It was a clear, crisp night, with Dale gleaming like a beacon upon its hill. Sophie glanced down at Heather. “Are you warm enough, love?”

Heather nodded. “I’m fine, Mama. But maybe we can get some hot chocolate, just to be sure?”

“I think we can arrange that,” Thorin replied, looking down at Sophie. “Unless you’d rather she not have it.”

“It’s fine.” Sophie tucked her head against Thorin’s shoulder. “She doesn’t ask for hot chocolate all that often. Besides, I think it sounds wonderful myself. It’s chilly out here.”

Thorin gave her hand a squeeze. “Say the word and we will return to Erebor.”

“That isn’t necessary just yet,” she told him, even as the breeze stirred and carried her words off in a cloud of silvery breath. “But, if I change my mind…”

“You’ll let me know?” He grinned, then slowed to press a kiss into the top of her head. “I expect no less.”

“Mama! Look!” Heather broke away to run up the sloping gravel road that led to the main street in Dale. 

“Heather, wait!” Sophie let go of Thorin’s hand to sprint after her, catching up with her at the top of the hill, where they stood at the beginning of the Night Market. “Do not do that again, or we go home right now!”

“But, Mama,” Heather pointed at the booth directly across from them, “they have fairy floss!”

“I do not care if they have a goose that lays golden eggs,” Sophie snapped, crouching down to Heather’s eye-level, “you do not go running off on me again. Do you see all these people? Do you have any idea how easily I could lose you in this crowd?”

Heather looked up at the crowds milling about them, all braving the unexpectedly cold night to visit the market. All around, booths with brightly colored awnings and festive lights strung about them, offered up everything from the fairy floss that snagged Heather’s attention to plants and pottery. Merchants tried their best to out-call their competitors to lure customers to take in their wares and it would be very easy to lose Heather in such a crowd.

Thorin joined them then, his expression stern as he also crouched. “You need to listen to your ’amad, mimûna,” he told her. “It can be dangerous otherwise.”

“I’m sorry, Mama, Mister Thorin,” Heather said softly, her eyes round and wide with remorse. “Can I have some fairy floss?”

“Not now,” Sophie told her, shaking her head as she straightened.

“Later?”

“We will see.”

Heather’s nose wrinkled and for a moment, she looked ready to debate it, but then thought better of it. “Yes, Mama.”

“Good. Now, why don't we see about supper first and then, if you behave, we can get hot chocolate?”

“Where?”

“We can go to Lucy’s.”

Heather’s eyes lit up. “Can we?”

Sophie nodded. “I think it would be all right.”

Thorin looked from Heather to her, his brows knit in confusion. “Lucy’s?”

“Over on Stone Street,” Sophie told him. “Lucy and I grew up together in Esgaroth and she is an amazing cook. Trust me.”

He bobbed his head. “Lead on, then.”

“I know the way!” Heather gripped Thorin’s free hand in both of hers. “Come along, Mister Thorin. The best table will be gone!”

He let out a laugh as he let her tug him along “How does she know about that?”

“Because she is wise beyond her years.” Sophie let out a laugh. “And she’s not wrong. If we don’t hurry, we’ll end up back by the kitchen.”

“Then allow me to lead the way.” Thorin winked at her as he proceeded to scoop Heather up and set her on his shoulders. “Can you see better up there, mimûna?”

“I can! Go straight!”

“Hold onto my hands,” he reminded her, and to Sophie, he added, “And don’t you get lost, either.”

“If we get separated, I think I can find my way,” Sophie replied dryly. 

“Go this way, Mister Thorin!” Heather directed, point to her right at the end of the street. “And it’s over there, the one with the blue shade.”

Lucy’s was tucked into the corner of Stone and North Streets, with a bright blue awning and the word Lucy spelled in elegant ivory script. It was already crowded, but when Lucy saw them, she hurried over. “Sophie? Heather! What a lovely surprise!” Her wide dark eyes slid to her left. “And is this who I think it is?”

“Thorin Durin, meet Lucy Trisven. Lucy, His Royal Highness, King Thorin II.”

“Your Royal Highness, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

As Lucy dipped into a curtesy, Thorin cleared his throat, looking somewhat uncomfortable as he said, “Please, that is not necessary. Thorin is fine and it is a pleasure to meet your as well, Miss Trisven.”

Lucy’s cheeks went pink as she swept a loose auburn curl away from her face. “Well, let me get you a table. Do you need a high seat, my little lady?”

Heather nodded solemnly. “Please.”

“Of course.” She straightened up and gestured for them to follow and a few minutes later, they were seated at a cozy table in the back corner, opposite the kitchen and Heather was happily sipping a cup of hot chocolate, while Thorin poured Sophie and himself a goblet of wine. 

“How long has this restaurant been in business? For I don't recall seeing it before tonight,” Thorin said after they’d placed their orders with the serving girl.

“It’s only been here since last winter, but she was very well known in Esgaroth,” Sophie said, trailing her finger down the thick stem of her crystal goblet. “But, somehow I think you’ve not spent much time there.”

“That would be because I haven’t. Not in recent years, anyhow. When I passed through last winter, it was the first time since before Smaug that I’d set foot in Esgaroth. Is that where you trained?”

She nodded. “More or less. I spent some time working in several of the elf kingdoms, to learn their languages as well. Then I met Heather’s father and settled back in Esgaroth with him, and after Heather was born, I decided I was finished traveling. Doing so with an infant through some of the lands simply wasn't safe and Sten didn’t like—” She paused at the sharp sting of memory and pressed her lips together as she glanced over at Heather, busy coloring on the small menu Lucy had given her, along with several different colored pastels.

Thorin’s huge hand came down upon hers. “You don't have to finish. I can guess.”

“It’s rather tiresome, really.” She met his soft blue eyes and shook her head. “And it’s over now, so there is no point in dwelling. Heather and I have a wonderful new life now.”

His thumb swept lightly along hers. “Good. I daresay Erebor has benefitted from having you both there. And,” he added, his voice a low purr, “I know I have definitely benefitted.”

A pleasant heat climbed into her cheeks. “Thorin…”

“What? I have. You and Heather have brought much-needed joy to both Erebor and to its king and that has, in turn, benefitted Erebor as a whole. And of course, Bifur is more and more his old self as well.”

“He just needed to be patient and now that he’s made the first big breakthrough, I think it won’t be long before he will not require my services any longer.”

Thorin’s thumb went still. “And will you and Miss Heather be looking to leave then?”

Although she expected the question sooner or later, her stomach still twisted slightly as she said, “I cannot stay if I’m not needed.”

“I need you.”

“Thorin…” she glanced over at Heather, still seemingly oblivious to their conversation as she shaded the tree she’d drawn. “What are you suggesting?”

“I suggest nothing, but I do hope you would consider remaining in Erebor on a more perm—”

“Are we leaving Erebor?” Heather asked, lifting her head to stare at them.

Sophie sipped her wine and lowered the goblet to say, “Not at this point, no.”

Thorin smiled at her. “Would you like to stay with us a bit longer, Miss Heather?”

She nodded, her dark curls bouncing merrily. “I would very much, yes.” She looked up at Sophie. “Can we, Mama?”

“For now, of course.” She shot Thorin a look as she added, “But we don't know what the future holds, remember.”

To her surprise, Thorin shot her a look right back. “But we do have an idea, don’t we?”

“I don't know, Thorin. Do we?”

“I think so, yes.”

Heather looked back and forth as each spoke. “Mama, are you mad at Mister Thorin?”

She sat back at her daughter’s blunt question and sighed softly as she shook her head. “Of course not. But, perhaps this is a conversation best left for another time.”

“If you insist,” Thorin replied evenly as their serving girl returned with their suppers, “but my sentiments will not have changed.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that.”

“Hunter’s stew?” The serving girl broke in with a silvery chirp as she set the large bowl before Thorin.

“Thank you.”

Supper meant the matter was dropped for now, but Sophie knew she and Thorin would be discussing what he meant when Heather was not within earshot. 

That moment came far sooner than Sophie would have thought, for as Heather met up with Gimli and the two of them joined Narnerra to play a game of chance at the booth set up near the center of town, Thorin said, “My sentiments will not have changed, you know.”

“Thorin, you cannot speak of such things with Heather within earshot,” Sophie rounded on him sharply. “You cannot get her hopes up for things that most likely will never be.”

“Never be? Why?” He folded his arms over his broad chest and glared down at her. “Do you see no future for us, Mrs. Asharm?”

“Do you see one, Your Highness?”

“I do, yes.” He bobbed his head sharply. “Or, at least I see the possibility of one.”

“Why?”

“You did not just ask me that.”

“I did, and I wish an answer. You need remember, I do not come into any relationship alone. I have Heather to think of.”

“And surely you’ve noticed I look at her as if she was my own,” he countered smoothly. “I would never dream of even hinting that I see her any other way.”

Sophie’s heart sped up, hammering against her ribs with enough force, black dots danced before her eyes. “But, you are the King of Erebor.”

“You say that as if it means something beyond a job title.”

“Because it does.”

“I want to be with you, Sophie.” He stepped closer and caught her by the hands. “And I wouldn’t want to be with you without Heather around as well. And I will never treat her as anything less than my own kin, so you needn’t worry about that.”

His thumbs brushed the backs of her hands and then he released one to bring his hand to her cheek, where it curved against her to make thinking that much more difficult. She swallowed hard. “Thorin, do you know what you’re saying?”

“Of course I do. I went mad for a while, but I’m far from stupid,” he said with a hint of a smile as he closed the space between them. “I want a future with you, Sophie. And unlike her father, I will never wish she was anything other than the sweet, charming little girl she is, nor will I ever raise a hand to either one of you. You will never know fear again, Sophie. I promise you this.”

Her eyes stung at the soft intensity of his voice. “Thorin, I—I don't know what to say, this isn’t anything I ever expected.”

“Nor did I,” he replied with a hint of a smile, “but here we are.”

“Here we are.”

“And here is where I wish to stay.”

“Me, too.”

“Good.” He bent to her, pressed his lips to hers, and slid one arm about her waist to draw her flush against him. 

“Ew… are they kissing?”

Thorin pulled away with a chuckle at Gimli’s horrified question. “Aye, we were, indeed, Master Gimli. How did you do at your game?”

“I won a poppet,” Gimli said with a scowl. “What am I to do with a silly poppet?”

“It’s very pretty, though,” Heather chimed in. 

He turned to her. “Do you like it, Heather?”

She nodded solemnly. “I do.” 

“Then you shall have it,” Gimli told her, pressing it into her hand.

Her entire face lit up. “Do you mean it?”

“Aye, I mean it.”

“Thank you!” Heather threw her arms about his neck and hugged him so hard, he stumbled back. 

“Easy, mimûna,” Thorin told her, crouching to peel her away from him. “Are you all right, Master Gimli?”

Gimli looked a bit dazed, but nodded and then smiled. “I’m fine, Your Highness.”

“Mama! Look!” Heather waved the poppet at her. “Gimli gave her to me! Isn’t she just the prettiest—”

She froze then, her face going pale as she stared off behind Sophie, who whipped about to see what it was that caught Heather’s attention. The only thing behind her was the the end of the street, where it intersected with Broad Street, and the throng of people milling about as they moved from stand to stand.

“Miss Heather, what is it?” Thorin asked softly, also spinning about to peer down the road.

Heather looked up at Sophie, who felt her heart stop as the little girl said, “I saw Papa.”

“What?”

Heather nodded. “He was right back there, by that lady with the pots,” she pointed to the stand at the end of the street, selling pottery of all shapes, sizes, and colors.

“Oh, love,” Sophie fought to keep her voice calm even as her belly roiled like the Long Lake during a storm, and scooped Heather up, “that’s not possible. It was your eyes playing tricks on you. Perhaps someone who looks like him.”

“No, Mama,” Heather shook her head, her bottom lip slowly beginning to tremble. “He looked right at me and he smiled, but it was a scary smile. Can we go back home now, please? I don’t want to be here any more.”

Gimli peered around Sophie’s legs. “We can go look, Heather.”

“No!” Heather threw her arms about Sophie’s neck and clung to her, burying her face as she added, “Please, can we go home?”

Thorin nodded, easing an arm about them both. “Of course we can, raklûna. Of course we can.”

Sophie tucked Heather more tightly against her, fighting the urge to peer over her shoulder every few minutes as Thorin ushered them out of Dale and back toward Erebor. And no matter how she tried to convince herself Heather was imagining what she’d seen, there was no denying the genuine fear she’d seen in Heather’s eyes.

But that simply wasn't possible. Sten was gone. He was dead. She knew this for a fact. He was not coming back.

So, who had Heather seen? 

Sophie tried not to think about it as they crossed the plains between Dale and Erebor, and it was the first time in a long time that she realized just how wide and open the plains were. 

“Mama, I thought you said Papa died?”

“He did, love. I don’t know who you might have seen, but it was not your papa.” Sophie hugged her daughter tighter, her heart thundering against her ribs as if Sten himself gave chase.

But that wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t.

At Erebor’s gates, the watchman greeted them with a friendly, if brisk, “Good evening, Your Royal Highness, Mrs. Asharm, Miss Asharm. How was the market?”

“It was fine, Rabir. Please, just raise the gates,” Thorin replied.

“Of course.” 

Chains rattled and squeaked as the gates slowly opened and only once they’d passed the threshold, did Sophie relax her hold on Heather. Thorin’s hand remained firmly at the small of her back as he guided her down to her apartments. 

Inside, Thorin pushed the door closed and said, “She’s half-asleep. I think it safe to say she is no longer frightened.”

Sophie craned her neck to peer at Heather, whose head rested on her shoulder. Her thumb was firmly in her mouth and her eyes were heavy-lidded and just about closed. “Let me put her down and get her tucked in.”

“Would you like some wine?”

“I would, very much so. I have some in the kitchen.”

“I’ll get that.” He came over to gently stroke a hand along Heather’s curls. “Sleep well, raklûna.”

“What if he comes here?” Heather murmured, her voice thick and her words sluggish. “Will you stay, Mister Thorin. Just in case?”

Sophie met Thorin’s gaze, smiling as he then turned a solemn expression to Heather. “Would that make you feel safer?”

She nodded. “You won’t let him hurt us, right?”

Sophie pressed her lips together, her throat tightening when Thorin just as solemnly replied, “I will not let anyone hurt you, mimûna. Neither you nor your mother. I give you my word.”

“Good.” Heather’s eyes slid shut and she sighed softly. 

“Let me put her to bed. I’ll be back in a moment,” Sophie managed to murmur.

“Take your time.” 

She bobbed her head, then turned to carry Heather into her bedchamber, where she braced Heather against her hip while she turned down the bed with her free hand. She bent to set Heather on the featherbed and Heather murmured, “He can stay, can’t he?”

Sophie nodded as she drew up the sheet and quilt. “Of course he can, love. You have nothing to be afraid of now. You’re safe here.”

“I know,” Heather replied slowly, just barely nodding. “Mister Thorin loves us.”

“He certainly seems to.” Sophie gently sank onto the edge of the bed, stroking Heather’s hair. 

“He does. I can tell… he does…” 

With a soft sigh, Heather sank into sleep and Sophie sat there a few minutes more, until she was certain Heather wouldn’t wake with the slightest of movements. Then, she rose and quietly crept from the room, pulling the door by behind her.

Thorin was in the great room, two goblets and the bottle of wine standing on the stone table while he sat on the sofa, elbow resting on the arm, chin resting in his hand, his expression suggesting his thoughts were far from Erebor.

“Where are you?”

He jumped. “Sorry, mesmel.” He looked over at her and smiled. “Is she asleep?”

“I think so.” She sank onto the sofa alongside him, and without thinking, curled up against him. “Did you see who she saw?”

“I did not.” His arm came to rest about her shoulders, his fingers sweeping lightly along her upper arm as he added, “But then again, I wouldn’t know her father if I fell over him.”

Sophie shook her head. “It couldn’t have been Sten. It’s impossible.”

“Does he have a brother who resembles him perhaps?”

“He did,” she nodded slowly, “a twin, actually. But he died when they were children. Drowned in the Long Lake. It’s why I never fully understood why Sten chose to earn his living on the water. He hated that lake and with such good reason.” 

“Well, whoever Heather saw, it shook her a bit. But, if you’d rather I not stay—”

“Now, why would I rather that?” She looked up at him. “I’m certain there is a perfectly logical explanation for what happened up in Dale. I just wish I’d seen the man she saw. Then I would know.”

“We will get to the bottom of it, Sophie.” He smiled down at her. “I promise you, we will.”

She sighed softly as she tucked her head against his side. “I know, but… it’s troubling.”

“It was dark and she was tired. She probably saw someone who resembled him and her eyes played a trick on her. Now,” he leaned forward to snag one of the goblets and handed it to her, “no more worrying. You and Heather are safe here and no one who does not belong here will find their way into Erebor. You and your daughter will both sleep soundly tonight if I have to sit up and watch over you both. Understood?”

Sophie nodded, but as she sipped her wine, she had the feeling peaceful nights’ sleep were going to be rather hard to come by in the coming days. 

[king-and-his-consorts]

Easy Breezy

Sweet and simple starter for @chivalryburdened _____

Today was a very rare, very special day. Today Luffy had been picked to accompany Sanji down to the market on the island they had recently arrived at.

While normally more of an annoying task to most of the crew (especially Zoro), it was one of excitement for Luffy. It was a task that he was really never picked for. Possibly because he would try to eat the things Sanji bought but that wasn't every time. Luffy could behave when he tried hard. He never stole from food vendors. Food was too precious to do something so disrespectful.

This was one of several reasons why he was trying to be on his best behavior. If he was good, maybe Sanji would ask him again!

The mid-afternoon sun wasn't too bright. The temperature of the autumn island just cool enough to make a light hoodie feel snuggly against Luffy's skin. He really wasn't the biggest fan of the bulk of winter clothes. Clothes used in autumn were much less restrictive and honestly fun to wear.

Unfortunately, autumn islands came with downsides. The greatest one being the rainbow of leaves that fluttered loose from the tree branches. Luffy was stopped there in the middle of the dirt path that led to the village. Head leaned back, his hood threatening to slip back off his hair. Mouth open slightly in wonder as he watched colorful leaves sway in the breeze that ruffled the captain's clothes. A few orange and purple leaves breaking free and left to flutter by before float down to tumble with the rest that littered the path.

He watched for several long moments. Mesmerized by the melodic sway of nature. His eyes fluttered as the trance of shuffling leaves lifted from him. Spirit calmed by nature's melody, he smiled. Thoughts returning to Sanji who was a little further up the path. Luffy fixed his hood before he bounded over to the cook. Smile growing steadily into a grin as he slipped his bare hand into Sanji's.

"What do we need to get from the market again?" He asked, swinging their linked hands absentmindedly.

[southelmontehydroponics1]

Important to understand why plants need light to grow

In recent years, indoor gardening has become increasingly popular among plant enthusiasts. Whether you live in a small apartment with limited sunlight or want to grow plants year-round, grow lights have become an essential tool for ensuring your plants receive the light they need to thrive. In this blog post, we will explore the world of grow lights for plants, discussing the different types available and how to choose the right one for your indoor garden.

First, it's important to understand why plants need light to grow. Light is an essential element for photosynthesis, the process by which plants convert sunlight into energy. Without adequate light, plants will struggle to thrive, resulting in stunted growth, poor flowering, and overall lackluster health. When growing plants indoors, it's crucial to provide them with the right amount and quality of light to mimic the conditions they would experience outdoors.

There are several types of grow lights available on the market, each with its own strengths and weaknesses. Here are some of the most common types:

1. Fluorescent grow lights: These are a popular choice for indoor gardeners, as they are affordable, energy-efficient, and produce a wide spectrum of light that is suitable for most plants. Fluorescent lights come in two main varieties: T5 and T8. T5 lights are more efficient and produce higher light output, making them ideal for larger plants or multiple plants. T8 lights are less efficient but are still a good option for smaller plants or seedlings.

2. High-intensity discharge (HID) grow lights: HID lights are known for their high light output and are a favorite among professional growers. There are two main types of HID lights: metal halide (MH) and high-pressure sodium (HPS). MH lights emit a bluish-white light that is ideal for vegetative growth, while HPS lights produce a reddish-orange light that is best for flowering and fruiting plants.

3. LED grow lights: LED lights are a relatively new technology in the world of grow lights, but they have quickly gained popularity due to their energy efficiency and long lifespan. LED lights come in a variety of colors and spectrums, allowing you to customize the light output for different stages of plant growth. While LED lights tend to be more expensive upfront, they can save you money in the long run due to their low energy consumption.

When choosing a grow light for your indoor garden, there are several factors to consider. First, consider the type of plants you are growing and their specific light requirements. Some plants, such as leafy greens and herbs, may thrive under lower light levels, while fruiting plants like tomatoes and peppers will require more intense light. Additionally, consider the size of your growing space and how many plants you will be growing. Make sure to measure the light output of the grow light to ensure it will provide adequate coverage for your plants.

In conclusion, grow lights are an essential tool for indoor gardeners looking to grow healthy, vibrant plants year-round. With the wide variety of options available on the market, it's important to do your research and choose a grow light that best suits your plant's needs and your growing space. Whether you opt for fluorescent, HID, or LED lights, providing your plants with the right amount and quality of light will help them thrive and flourish. Happy growing!

[camfire4]

The Impact of Floor Lamps on Home Aesthetics

Floor lamps are not just sources of illumination; they are also significant elements of home decor that can enhance the ambiance and style of any room. When selecting a floor lamp, it's crucial to consider its intended use, whether for reading, accent lighting, or simply as a decorative piece. A well-chosen floor lamp can create visit site here a warm and inviting atmosphere, while also serving a functional purpose. Let's delve into how to choose the perfect floor lamp for your space, considering factors such as brightness, style, and energy efficiency.

Choosing the Right Floor Lamp for Your Needs

Floor lamps come in various heights and styles, and they can serve multiple purposes in a home. They can be a primary light source, a reading aid, or a piece of decorative flair. When shopping for a floor lamp, it's essential to determine its primary function.

For Reading and Tasks

If the lamp is intended for reading or tasks that require bright light, the bulb should emit a strong, focused light. A reading floor lamp typically needs a bulb of at least 120 watts, but with advancements in lighting technology, LED bulbs can provide ample brightness with much lower wattage, saving energy and reducing electricity costs. Halogen bulbs, known for their bright white light, can also be an option, though they tend to be less energy-efficient than LEDs.

For Decoration

When a floor lamp is used for decorative purposes, the brightness is less critical. In this case, the lamp should offer a softer glow that complements the room's design without overpowering it. The lamp's height should align with eye level when seated, usually between 38 to 42 inches, to avoid direct glare.

Style and Size Considerations

The lampshade's width influences the light's spread; a broader shade will illuminate a larger area. The lamp's size should harmonize with the room's furniture and overall scale. For instance, a large sofa pairs well with a more substantial lamp. Floor lamps are available in styles ranging from modern and contemporary to traditional and country, with finishes like brass, bronze, brown, and gold tone.

Energy Efficiency and Cost

It's important to consider the bulb's wattage for both functionality and energy consumption. Higher wattage bulbs consume more power, leading to higher electricity bills. However, modern LED bulbs can provide the same level of brightness with much lower wattage, making them a cost-effective and environmentally friendly choice.

The price of floor lamps varies widely, from as low as $15 to upwards of $1000, with contemporary designs often carrying a higher price tag due to their unique aesthetics. Investing in a branded floor lamp is recommended for durability and quality assurance, as less reputable brands may offer cheaper options that lack longevity.

Finding the Best Deals

When budgeting for a floor lamp, look for discounts in newspapers, magazines, store catalogs, or online discount sites. Promo codes and sales can help you secure a high-quality lamp at a more affordable price.

Interesting Stats and Trends

According to a report by Grand View Research, the global lighting market size was valued at USD 118.33 billion in 2021 and is expected to grow at a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 4.5% from 2022 to 2030. The increasing demand for energy-efficient lighting solutions is a significant factor driving this growth. LED lighting, in particular, is gaining popularity due to its longer lifespan and lower energy consumption compared to traditional incandescent bulbs (Grand View Research).

[yourfellowhuman07]

Where Do We Go Now?

A She-ra: Princess of Power 2018 fanfiction

The war is finally over. Prime is dead, the hive mind is broken, and everyone is reunited with their loved ones. However, there are some questions left unanswered. What will be the fate of Catra and Hordak? What are these new memories Wrong Hordak has? What is Etheria's place in the wider universe? Where do we go now?

___________________

Hey guys, here's chapter 25. I wrote most of this morning, so I'm sorry if this is so short and not the best quality. This past week had been hectic for me. Still thank you for the support I have gotten.

I'll say this again if you have any questions or need to say anything to me please comment it or use my asks box (or whatever it is called I'm new). Have a great rest of your week.

___________________

Chapter 25: System One

The six brothers walked into the mountain. Hordak led the way through the winding pathways highlighted by the map Entrapta made him. The lights in the cave were dim, which wasn’t a problem since they could see just fine even if it was pitch black. When they turned the next corner, they shut their eyes at the sudden abundance of light illuminating the larger cavern. After letting their eyes adjust, they saw rows of shops and vendors coming out of every nook and cranny bathed in soft blue and purple lights. 

Many of the smaller vendors sold handmade crafts. Most of it was jewelry made from the gemstones found deep in the mines of Dryl along with other amenities made from leather, iron, and even clothing. The larger shops in the center had more professional brands that could be found in some of the other countries across Etheria.

The six brothers made their way through the winding roads of the market. Whispers wove their way through the hustle and bustle of the masses. The glances and glares from the crowd unsettled the brothers, all except Hordak who was used to looks of disgust and whispers of contempt.

ZD tapped Hordak on the shoulder.

“Yes?”

“What is that?” ZD pointed at a black building with silver trimming. Just inside the window, a person was sitting in a chair while another person made black marks on their skin with a pen-like device.

“It is a tattoo parlor.”

“What is a tattoo?”

“Come with me,” Hordak guided his brothers to the shop’s window. “A tattoo is a permanent piece of art embedded within the skin. This is achieved by puncturing the skin with needles and inserting ink.”

“Can I get a tattoo?”

“I would advise against that. A tattoo can only be removed with lasers, otherwise, it is completely permanent; thus, much thought and consideration must be put in before attaining one.” ZD’s ears drooped. “However, if you can come up with a fitting design with ample thought, I will pay for it.” ZD’s face lit up.

“Thank you, HK.” ZD gave a small bow.

“What are they doing there?” LD pointed at two people in the back of the shop. One was sitting on a stool while another person held a device to their ear.

“That person is getting their ears pierced. Many beings decide to make harmless holes in their body, and insert jewelry.”

“Is that reversible?”

“I believe so, once the hole is healed up.”

All five gave Hordak a pleading look. He sighed and pulled out his wallet.

________________________

“JJ, did you seriously have to yelp when the woman pierced your ears?” TD asked as they exited the shop.

“I just didn’t expect it to hurt.” JJ’s ears drooped in embarrassment.

“It didn’t even hurt!”

“I- uh. Shut up!”

LD walked up to Hordak.

“Hey HK, do you think maybe we could get She-Ra to grow our hair out too? Just whenever is possible.”

“I will ask her about it.”

“Thank you… where are they going?” LD pointed to the rest of his brothers running off into the crowd.

“Come on, let’s go chase after them.” LD ran off to find them and Hordak tried to follow him, but something was holding him back. He turned around to find a short middle-aged woman with lilac skin and dark purple hair holding onto one of his overall straps. As he looked into her cerulean eyes he saw a kind of wisdom that reminded him of his mother.

“You are the former Lord Hordak, are you not?” She asked, letting go of him.

“I- I am, madam.”

“I had a feeling. I’m Morella, the overseer of System One of Dryl. Many people call me Mother Morella.” She stuck out her hand for Hordak to shake. He took it nervously, trying to regain his stability.

“Ah yes, Entrapta has mentioned you before. It is an honor to meet you, madam. May I ask what you require of me?”

“I simply wanted to meet to person our dear Princess was in a relationship with.”

“How did you know?”

“Word travels fast within the mines of Dryl. Besides, by the way, she spoke of you, it was only a matter of time before you two got together.”

“What did she say?”

“It was more how she said it. She spoke with such admiration about you. I can’t describe it, I just know things.” Hordak’s ears flicked down, and his cheeks flushed.

“Is there anything else you need, madam?”

“I only ask that you protect Princess Entrapta. You of all people should know how reckless she can be.”

Hordak looked into her warm eyes.

“Rest assured madam, for as long as my heart beats Princess Entrapta and all she holds dear will be my priority.”

________________

By the way, Morella is whatever species held that party/ trap in season five. I don't know if the name was mentioned because I haven't watched the show in a while. Oops.

Update: It was Elberon

Also fixed the errors that Grammarly pointed out after I posted this.

[morocosmos]

Returning - Epilogue

Intro chapter | Thancred | Urianger | Y’shtola | Alphinaud, Estinien | Tataru | Alisaie, Krile | G’raha

Warrior of Light & Erenville

Takes place during Endwalker, just after the end of 6.0. This is a series of vignettes on each of the Scions’ relationships with my Warrior of Light, Moro’a as he’s recovering after the end of the Final Days.

We made it to the end! Thank you to anyone who’s enjoyed these, whether you read one, a couple or all of them :>

It’s a chilly morning, early enough that some of the market stalls in the Agora have yet to fully open. Moro’a takes his time, walking slowly as he takes in the sea air and the quiet bustle of Sharlayan scholars and students, out procuring supplies and sundries. From across the plaza, he sees a small group of Ironworks engineers hurrying past the aetheryte, and even a handful of Gridanian conjurers at the benches, gawping at the sights around them.

Change, Moro’a thinks to himself, suppressing a yawn and wrapping his scarf around his neck an ilm tighter as a breeze rushed through the Agora, before settling on an empty bench.

The Scions had agreed to embark for the Rising Stones by the end of the sennight, giving Moro’a ample time to rest and build up his strength before the voyage. In an effort to do just that, he’d been going on walks such as this around Old Sharlayan. He’s growing a little stronger every day, but still has to be careful not to overexert himself. Dawn has proven to be the best time for walks; while he doesn’t entirely wish to be left alone, less attention from passersby means more energy for walking, and he much prefers appreciating the simultaneously quiet, yet bright atmosphere, watching as sunlight gradually bathes the city’s white stone buildings in a rosy golden hue.

But change is still on his mind, as it had been for several days now, and with it the certainty that it would come about soon for him and the Scions. Estinien would sooner or later embark wherever the wind took him. Thancred had already mentioned his and Urianger’s plans, while Krile and G’raha spent more and more time in the Annex these days, and Y’shtola in the Noumenon. There’d also been murmurs between the twins about Garlemald, wishing they could do more there, and Tataru has her business to run. Each Scion’s desires had begun to draw them along different paths, some converging and others not.

It was bound to happen, now that the mission that brought us together has concluded, Moro’a thinks to himself. He’s not sure how to feel about it; happy and upset are far too extreme for the precipice they stand upon now.

“Fancy meeting you here.” A low, musical voice brings Moro’a out of his reverie, and he turns around to see Erenville approach from behind.

“Erenville.” Moro’a finds himself glad to see the gleaner. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you.” Erenville wears a light, warm smile, and he hesitates before adding, “countless people were concerned for your well-being when you returned from your mission…myself amongst them. But if you are here, I trust your recovery proceeds at a welcome pace, then?”

Moro’a nods, briefly explaining his treatment and how the Scions would be leaving for Limsa Lominsa within the next few days. Erenville takes it all in stride and without comment, until he poses another question. “What next, then?”

What next, indeed? The Scions may well not be needed anymore, which leaves me free to do just about anything, he considers saying. He’d told Thancred he’d like to go adventuring, but he hadn’t quite expressed how impatiently eager he’s become to do just that – to take the unknown road and venture forth to wherever it might lead him. The same desire that’d led him to Eorzea in the first place, more than a decade ago now.

“I’d like to go somewhere new,” he answers, looking out towards the ocean. “Or perhaps someplace I can see with new eyes. But not as some champion or saviour. I’d like to just be myself – just any other adventurer, if you would. Find some stories that don’t revolve around being a hero.”

Erenville doesn’t reply immediately. In fact, the viera appears to be deep in thought, as though suddenly thrust into some sort of internal debate. There’s a sparkle to his eyes that hadn’t been there before, as though Moro’a’s words had done something to capture Erenville’s own spirit, and it makes him wonder. What's your story?

“Oh, don’t mind me. I was simply distracted by, ah, a quandary of my own,” Erenville responds at length, shaking his head. Upon seeing Moro’a’s curious expression, the viera tilts his head ever so slightly to the side. “That being said, while gleaners go wherever we are needed, it does result in a healthy amount of travel. Not that much different from the life of an adventurer, in some respects.” Erenville taps his chin. “Should our paths happen to align…I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a means to contact you? Depending on where my work takes me and the timing thereof, I might just appreciate having an experienced travelling companion.”

Oh? It’s Moro’a’s turn to consider the other’s words. Erenville had worded it as a suggestion, and yet something about the way he said it made it sound more like an invitation. It might just be the adventure Moro’a’s looking for, and he can’t say he’s not interested in getting to know the gleaner better. “I can pass you a linkpearl before we leave for Limsa Lominsa – find me here at the same time tomorrow if you can make it,” he replies, and Erenville nods with a smile.

“Excellent. Well, I’d best be off for now. Can’t make good on my offer if I don’t take the necessary steps to make it happen,” he says, more than a little mysteriously. They bid each other goodbye, and as the viera heads off in the direction of the Annex, Moro’a turns his attention back to the horizon.

Days and days spent confined in the Technon had sprouted seeds of wanderlust in him like never before, eager to bloom. But Moro’a knows that much and more have served to propel him on the path he wishes to walk now: an old friend’s footsteps. Cryptic parting words from an enemy turned ally, and the sun-coloured crystal he keeps close by. The words of the tireless woman who’d beseeched him to champion her cause, but who had celebrated the spirit of adventure in him as well, long before they would meet in this life.

Has your journey been good? Has it been worthwhile? It has, he thinks to himself, but I’m not done yet. And whether or not the Scions of the Seventh Dawn would still exist in the days to come, it’s comforting to know that they would continue to be there for each other, come what may.

[denimbex1986]

'July is witnessing an influx of big budget releases. From Bollywood’s Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani to Hollywood’s Mission Impossible: The Dead Reckoning Part One, Barbie and Oppenheimer, cinephiles are spoilt for choice.

You’ve probably heard of the massive box office clash between Barbie and Oppenheimer, but have you heard of Barbenheimer?

It’s a rapidly growing pop culture internet phenomenon where instead of pitting the two films against each other in online debates, people have turned it into a double feature, discussing the best order to watch the two films on the same day.

So far, there is a clear order, as dictated by internet culture led by several discussion threads — first watch Oppenheimer, a serious and intense story, and then Barbie, a light-hearted film to neutralise the heaviness of the former. But the debate around the ‘correctness’ rages on!

If only the world could agree on things this easily every day!

Barbie tells the story of the world famous eponymous doll who is expelled from Barbie Land and enters the real world with Ken on a journey of self-discovery. The fantasy comedy film is expected to be light, funny, frivolous and all-things-pink.

On the other hand, Oppenheimer is a biographical drama that chronicles the story behind the world’s first atom bomb and its creator Robert J Oppenheimer who invented it during World War 2.

Completely contrasting themes, right?

That’s what led to a memefest on social media with users comparing the two films, different in their genres and tonality. Over months, this has emerged into one united online phenomenon — Barbenheimer, where people are no longer pitting these vastly different films against each other and instead preparing themselves to watch both films on the same day in the best order possible.

What could be a Barbie Vs Oppenheimer fan war has instead brought fans of both worlds together, who will now end up watching a film other than the genre they prefer. In the end, it is a victory for cinema.

This meme culture has driven thousands of people to book their tickets in advance to not miss out on the Barbenheimer craze. It’s a moment in history where two distinctly different films with an equally strong starcast have received an equal amount of love from fans.

After years of watching franchises take over theatres, the Barbenheimer meme culture comes as a breath of fresh air for movie lovers. It gives them an opportunity to take a break from the Marvel-fication of cinema with fans feeling pressured to keep up with every series or movie release in order to stay updated with their favourite cinematic universe. It’s a constant and tiring pursuit of content that aims to serve itself more than its fans.

Oppenheimer is the first script Christopher Nolan wrote in first person to tell the story from Robert J Oppenheimer’s perspective. Despite its serious and dark tone, people are excited to see Nolan back in action with a stellar star cast of Cillian Murphy (who plays the titular role), Matt Damon, Casey Affleck, Emily Blunt, Robert Downey Jr, Florence Pugh, Rami Malek and Kenneth Branagh.

The marketing campaign for Oppenheimer has been fairly simple — regular press interviews with Cillian Murphy and a few with Robert Downey Jr. The biggest splash was perhaps a picture of John Krasinski with the film’s cast that started trending on social media.

However, Barbie’s theme and marketing strategy is in sharp contrast with Oppenheimer.

As compared to Oppenheimer’s minimalistic campaign, Barbie went all out. Microsoft and Xbox collaborated for a pink Dreamhouse style gaming console, Hot Wheels launched a pink Corvette Stingray and AirBnB created a life-size pink mansion to celebrate the movie. For promotional tours, Margot Robbie wore several outfits inspired by old and new Barbie dolls.

Mattel clearly went all out to reclaim the colour pink and crown Barbie as its sole queen.

They took something as simple and frivolous as a kids’ doll and turned it into a point of curiosity. Hence, despite having a ton of promotional material, we still don’t know what Barbie is actually about.

All we know is that it stars Margot Robbie, Ryan Gosling, Will Ferell, Kate McKinnon and is directed by Greta Gerwig — the same person who directed Little Women. That’s enough to tell us Barbie won’t be a run-of-the-mill romantic comedy. It’ll probably address something deeper, given Gerwig’s talent.

Memes usually follow a film, driving curiosity AFTER its release. In the case of Barbenheimer, it’s driving people to theatres in hordes, a beautiful sight to behold after ages and a reminder of the power of internet culture in controlling the film economy.

I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely a Barbenheimer girl!'

[the-haunted-office]

Slewfoot by Brom

Connecticut, 1666: An ancient spirit awakens in a dark wood. The wildfolk call him Father, slayer, protector. The colonists call him Slewfoot, demon, devil. To Abitha, a recently widowed outcast, alone and vulnerable in her pious village, he is the only one she can turn to for help. Together, they ignite a battle between pagan and Puritan – one that threatens to destroy the entire village, leaving nothing but ashes and bloodshed in their wake. This terrifying tale of bewitchery features more than two dozen of Brom’s haunting full-color paintings and brilliant endpapers, fully immersing readers in this wild and unforgiving world.

The Turn of the Key by Ruth Ware

When she stumbles across the ad, she’s looking for something else completely. But it seems like too good an opportunity to miss—a live-in nannying post, with a staggeringly generous salary. And when Rowan Caine arrives at Heatherbrae House, she is smitten—by the luxurious “smart” home fitted out with all modern conveniences, by the beautiful Scottish Highlands, and by this picture-perfect family. What she doesn’t know is that she’s stepping into a nightmare—one that will end with a child dead and herself in prison awaiting trial for murder. Writing to her lawyer from prison, she struggles to explain the events that led to her incarceration. It wasn’t just the constant surveillance from the home’s cameras, or the malfunctioning technology that woke the household with booming music, or turned the lights off at the worst possible time. It wasn’t just the girls, who turned out to be a far cry from the immaculately behaved model children she met at her interview. It wasn’t even the way she was left alone for weeks at a time, with no adults around apart from the enigmatic handyman. It was everything. She knows she’s made mistakes. She admits that she lied to obtain the post, and that her behavior toward the children wasn’t always ideal. She’s not innocent, by any means. But, she maintains, she’s not guilty—at least not of murder—but somebody is.

Man, Fuck This House by Brian Asma

Sabrina Haskins and her family have just moved into their dream home, a gorgeous Craftsman in the rapidly-growing Southwestern city of Jackson Hill. Sabrina’s a bored and disillusioned homemaker, Hal a reverse mortgage salesman with a penchant for ill-timed sports analogies. Their two children, Damien and Michaela, are bright and precocious. At first glance, the house is perfect. But things aren’t what they seem. Sabrina’s hearing odd noises, seeing strange visions. Their neighbors are odd or absent. And Sabrina’s already-fraught relationship with her son is about to be tested in a way no parent could ever imagine. Because while the Haskins family might be the newest owners of 4596 James Circle, they’re far from its only residents…

How to Sell a Haunted House by Grady Hendrix

When Louise finds out her parents have died, she dreads going home. She doesn’t want to leave her daughter with her ex and fly to Charleston. She doesn’t want to deal with her family home, stuffed to the rafters with the remnants of her father’s academic career and her mother’s lifelong obsession with puppets and dolls. She doesn’t want to learn how to live without the two people who knew and loved her best in the world.   Most of all, she doesn’t want to deal with her brother, Mark, who never left their hometown, gets fired from one job after another, and resents her success. Unfortunately, she’ll need his help to get the house ready for sale because it’ll take more than some new paint on the walls and clearing out a lifetime of memories to get this place on the market.   But some houses don’t want to be sold, and their home has other plans for both of them…

Books of Blood, Vol. 1 by Clive Barker

In this tour de force collection of brilliantly disturbing tales, Clive Barker combines the extraordinary with the ordinary, bringing to life our darkest nightmares with stories that both seduce and devour. As beautiful as they are terrible, the pages of this volume are stained with unsettling imagery, macabre humor, and visceral dread. Here then are the stories written on the Book of Blood. Read, if it pleases you, and learn....