#Needle Felting Flower Magnolia

[snowflakeforestfelting]

Needle Felting Flower Magnolia Time Lapse

[s-brant]

Tokens (1/8)

(SERIES MASTERLIST) (PART TWO)

Summary: After losing her brother, Y/N Routledge is left with no living family except for the Pogues. With the new couple, Pope and Kiara, often leaving them to their own devices, Y/N and JJ find themselves caught up in an unexpected affair to cope with the loss of such an important person in their lives. On the day of John B’s funeral, Y/N has to find the courage to say goodbye.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Angst, grief, implied sexual content, codependency, and fluff. AU where John B and Sarah actually died.

A/N: Whew okay so I’ve been cooking up this mini series for a few weeks and have a couple chapters already drafted up thus far, so if you’re interested in being on a tag list, lemme know! I hope you like it! Also if you can find the Taylor Swift lyric hidden in here, I love you. Part Two will be up within this week. Let me know if you liked it.

JJ is in trouble.

Not just any kind of trouble either. Not "kooks are out to get me" trouble, or the typical shenanigans the impulsive boy often finds himself in. He's in deep, deep trouble that he can't quite see his way out of.

He's got a thing for John B's sister.

As bad as that may sound, it's not like he intentionally fell for his best friend's only remaining family member. In fact, he actively resisted it for as long as he could, but things changed after he and Sarah disappeared in the storm. He went from admiring her from a distance and fighting the urge to go to her anytime they were in the same room to being her support system in the absence of her brother.

If he's honest about it, it scared him shitless to realize that he was the only thing holding the poor girl together. Pope and Kiara helped too, of course, but the fates must have designed for it to be him. With their other two friends growing closer with their newfound romance, they were left to look to each other for company when they went off to do couple-y things together. They didn't mind it either. They understood their friends' needs to have their alone time and it wasn't like they ditched them, so they took it in stride and spent the time they would've had together as a group alone together.

He is particularly scared today because today is the day of John B's funeral.

JJ worked on carving his name, mimicking what would've likely gone onto a gravestone, into the magnolia tree hanging over the back yard while Kiara and Pope went out to get flowers to place at the bottom of the tree for him.

None of them are wealthy enough to put together a proper funeral for the unofficial leader of their little group, but they knew they had to do something for him. They couldn't in good conscience do nothing. It felt wrong, like a gaping wound left to fester with no antiseptic or stitches, so they picked up a metaphorical needle and thread and got to mending things to the best of their ability. With little life experience in how to process the death of a friend this early on, none of them are sure what ways of coping are right and wrong, but this seemed like a step in the right direction.

The only one of them who stuck by their initial state of denial surrounding his and Sarah's deaths up until recently was Y/N. It took ages before she even admitted that her brother not coming back was a possibility, and it saddened her friends every time she'd correct someone when they'd say he was gone. Disappeared, she would clarify, "He's not dead, he disappeared."

It wasn't until last week, when JJ found her sobbing, wrapped up in one of John B's hoodies, on the end of the dock that she accepted defeat. It hit her in one sweeping, aggressive realization that the last person she had left in her family was dead, and she didn't want to wake him with the sound of her cries, so she slipped out of the back porch to cry on the dock.

But she didn't sneak away unnoticed.

In the time since his initial disappearance, JJ has taken to spending nights at the Chateau with her when he can and he felt her leave the bed. Their legs were tangled together beneath the sheets, bodies pressed into each other until the line distinguishing what was him and what was her blurred into nothing, and his half-awake mind alerted him of her absence instantly. He felt the warmth of her slip away until he was met with the empty outline of where she cuddled up next to him on the worn-out mattress in her bedroom.

He got up and searched the house until he was led outside by some instinctive voice inside of him that suspected he'd find her there, and, of course, that instinct was correct. When Big John disappeared, he accidentally found her out there one time when she needed a place to cry without letting anyone see, so he had a feeling.

This time, when he sets the blowtorch down, sighs at the "gravestone" he finished making, and decides it's time to go get her for the funeral, she isn't at the dock. He checked, just to be sure, and there was no sign of his favorite girl sitting with her head hung low and feet dangling over the water.

That's what has led him here.

JJ stands at the side of her bed with his hat in his hands as he tries to keep himself from fidgeting. As soon as they started making plans for today, she began to regress bit by bit, and he's been dreading this moment since he started working on the tree outside. He didn't want to have to see her wide, sorrowful eyes glancing up at his and feel his heart sink into the pit of his stomach with helplessness.

"It's time," he says and braces himself for her tears, "Kie and Pope are back with the flowers, and I just finished the headstone."

The thing is, when she turns around to see him there, she isn't crying like he thought she would be. Her eyes aren't puffy and red, nor are her sun-kissed cheeks marked with tear tracks to reveal the emotion she often tries to hide from him. She is not happy or sad. She looks like Y/N, and if it weren't concerning, he'd feel relieved.

The only words that leave her mouth are, "I'm ready."

She takes a steadying breath as she walks to the desk at the corner of her room and picks up a wooden jewelry box that was sitting opened on the tabletop. It was her moms. The one thing she left behind for her daughter before she up and left their family behind with no warning, no care for the little girl and boy who needed her, and it's been Y/N's most cherished possession until now.

Until she found a new cherished object to immortalize an absent loved one with in the form of one of John B's bandanas that she never leaves the house without wearing. Right now, it sits on the edge of her bed closest to JJ while she takes a glimpse at the contents of the box and shuts it to take outside.

There's silence for a moment. The gaps between their brief sentences are filled solely by the sound of her steps that near closer and closer to the door past him before he stops her.

"Wait a sec."

She can't help but stop dead in her tracks with one simple command from him and watch him take the box to set down on the bed in silence.

JJ could honestly tell her to do anything and she'd comply without questioning it. And maybe that isn't too healthy. Maybe it has a lot to do with her putting him on this untouchable pedestal for being her anchor through this shitstorm of a situation, but she knows he's the same way. She knows that he idealizes her just as much, if not more, for the ways she shows support for him in return.

It's a mutual codependency that promises an ending in flames if they don't work on fixing it, which they are trying to, they really are, but it feels so safe sometimes.

Before anyone else knew about what his dad did to him, she was the one he sought out for help. She patched him up, invited him into her room, and held him until he fell asleep. Long before either of them admitted their feelings, she was the protector in their relationship, and now that the tables have turned, they both understand the comfort to be found in having your safe place be another human being.

It feels like hell when they're apart. It feels like drained energy and a thousand paper cuts in that pesky spot between the thumb and forefinger in the mental form. It feels like an achey, desperate longing, but when they're together? It's like stepping into sunlight, or being encased in a bath flooded to the top with steaming water that will relax you to the edge of sleep.

So, how could either of them be compelled to fix it? It may not be healthy at the moment with the circumstances of how they were pushed together, but it's theirs. It's the first real connection he's ever had with someone and he doesn't want it to disappear, even if it's as mutually clingy and needy as it's been since John B died.

"What?" she asks.

Her brows are furrowed in confusion at why he stopped her in the doorway leading to the living room, but that confusion is blown away like ashes in the wind as soon as he reaches for the bandana laying atop her messy bed.

The old floorboards creak beneath his half-laced boots with the few steps he takes to return to her, and she has to suppress her smile at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. Smiling at a time like this feels like a crime punishable by death. It sparks a pang of guilt in her without fail every time and makes her wonder if she's a terrible person for smiling after what happened, but that's also something they've been working on—albeit in their own roundabout ways. They've never been great at talking out their feelings together, but they try, and she has asked him if he felt the same way about it.

Apparently, he shared the sense of guilt that haunts her when she finds herself laughing at a joke or smiling ever since the disappearance. It made her feel a little less alone to know he felt it too.

JJ sweeps the two braids she slept in to the side to slip the grey patterned bandana around her neck. Pieces of hair stick every which way in the messy plaits hanging from her head, and he takes a brief second to tuck a strand behind her ear before resuming the task at hand. The cold steel of one of his rings brushes her skin as he loops the worn fabric into a knot and arranges it to sit on her neck exactly how it did on John B's.

"There," he says. Once he's done, he doesn't retreat his hands away from her. One runs the fabric between his fingers while the other drifts up the side of her neck to cup her cheek until she leans into the touch like a cat nudging its head into your touch. "You almost forgot it."

Her hand reaches up and grabs his where it fiddles with the bandana some more, lacing their fingers together. The touch is so casual yet intimate, it makes her stomach feel airy and light with butterflies. She'll never get past the fact that they're a thing now. After years of pining for her brother's best friend, she never would've assumed her crush would actually lead them anywhere, but now...

Now, she's in over her head with him. It has her torn somewhere between using the L word and being too terrified of scaring him off to dare drop that bomb on him this soon. It's not like their relationship is completely undefined, they are exclusive, that much she knows since he told her he stopped sleeping with other girls after they started hanging out, but it's not necessarily serious yet. Not in the way that it must be for those words to be said.

The sound of her voice is soft when she breaks her silence, squeezing his hand once, "Thanks, angel."

That is something that has taken getting used to on his part. He's not used to being treated with such tenderness and care, not used to pet names and holding hands and kisses. It's all welcome, though, even if it makes his face heat up and flush bright red whenever she likens him to a figure as innocent and holy as an angel. It makes no sense to him why she calls him that, seeing as he's literally the stark opposite of an angel with his attitude about sex and affinity for stealing whatever isn't nailed down, but he secretly likes it.

He watches her look around for a second, eyes flickering from left to right in the direction of the living room, and cuts her off before she can bother to ask the question.

"Pope and Kie are outside if that's what you're worried about."

Keeping it a secret wasn't his idea, it was hers. It was one more thing that would take needless explaining and conversation that she already didn't have the energy for with everyone pestering her about her feelings, so she wanted them to keep it to themselves. At least for a little while.

Y/N's face seems to twitch with an urge to smile that she doesn't completely fulfill. She gives him as much of struggling half-smile as she can given the current circumstances and says softly, "Well, that's fortunate for you 'cause I wanted to do this," as she leans up on her toes to kiss him.

The taste on his lips is sweet, which might have something to do with the orange they split for a snack right before he left the comfort of her bedroom to carve the headstone for John B, and she savors it for the limited amount of time she gets to kiss him. Their kisses are often not this calm. They're usually desperate and explosive, panting for air in the seconds-long breaks they allow themselves before diving back in for another go that will inevitably lead to sex.

However, knowing that their friends are waiting, it's a chaste, short-lived kiss that would normally leave them both wanting more, but it doesn't today. Their minds are elsewhere, more focused on the importance of the goodbye they're giving to someone so close to their hearts, so this is all they need to sustain themselves.

When they part, there's a sad smile on his face, and he doesn't even need to say anything for her to understand it.

It's bittersweet to enjoy the feeling of being together while mourning the absence of another person that should be here. John B should be chasing JJ around and threatening to throw him into the marsh for screwing around with his sister. They should be cracking jokes about it and laughing at his protective side, not preparing his makeshift funeral.

"C'mon," JJ says, stepping aside to pick up the closed jewelry box and hand it back to her, "Lets go before they think we eloped."

Brought back to the reality of what they're doing today, Y/N is a lot less talkative on their way out of the Chateau to meet their friends in the back yard. There was a brief span of seconds when she leaned up to kiss him where she almost forgot the rest of what was happening in their lives. The gold hunt, the disappearances, and the general chaos of the summer didn't swarm her thoughts as aggressively as usual.

The air is charged with a strange energy between the Pogues when they finally venture out into the yard. She walks across it with bare feet, minding the sticks and possibly splinter-y the plants here or there, and feels the need to keep her eyes averted from them despite the fact that they're the only other people who understand what she's going through.

JJ has to resist the urge to take her hand into his by the time they come to a stop in front of the carved tree. He hears her take in a trembling inhale at the sight of the words he burned into the trunk. Singed in the open wood, the words, "John B. Routledge. 2003-2020," glare back at her.

Standing shoulder to shoulder between Pope and JJ, she finds it hard to conjure up the words to say to begin this mini funeral of theirs. In her head, there is so much to be said, too much even. Sometimes it gets so loud in there that there's nothing she can do to drown it out short of getting high with JJ or drinking, and she knows it won't work long-term, but it helps.

The mahogany box is smooth beneath the tips of her fingers rubbing over the the top of it in a repetitive motion in the hopes that it will calm her, interrupted by the odd scratch or scuff that occured long before it came into her possession.

She never lets anyone else touch it, whenever it gets dust it on, she cleans it, and whenever John B used to ask her why she takes such good care of something that belonged to their deadbeat mother, she defends it. For some reason, this was what she clung to when her mom left, and with a thought about the bandana secured around her neck, she understands why she needs these tokens for the ghosts in her life.

Her dad's token was the Chateau itself.

It lives and breathes his memory back to her whenever she wakes up and walks around to see the framed pictures, furniture he used to sit on, and the door of the room he often hid himself away in to research that damned gold that got everyone she had left killed.

Well, she thinks when she feels JJ's shoulder brush hers, almost everyone.

"Um," Y/N stammers for a second and fiddles with the latch on the jewelry box, unsure of whether or not she can handle this. "Can one of you guys go first? It’ll be easier if..."

"I can go."

Her head turns to see Kie on the other side of Pope with a sad, yet reassuring smile on her face. The late afternoon sun washes her features in a veil of marigold that compliments the natural highlights sweeping through the curls of her hair.

The brunette beauty steps forward once, just to be a pace closer to John B's "resting place", and takes a deep breath to herself before starting.

Having to listen to her friends pour their hearts out to the empty air where her brother should be standing is like rubbing salt into the festering, unstitched wound of her grief for him. She tries to tune it out for the sake of holding herself together enough to be able to say what she'll need to last, and it makes her wish she got it over with before the rest of them stepped up to say their goodbyes.

She keeps it together the best she can when Pope steps forward, just one step, and speaks his mind. It's mostly short and sweet, an attempt to stop them all from tearing up the way they would if they went on sprawling speeches about what they miss the most about him.

That's what the letters inside of the jewelry box are for.

A few days ago, she came to them with the idea after Pope proposed the idea of a funeral between the Pogues for their late friend. They decided that they'd come up with ideas of what to do to memorialize him, and she found herself wishing she could speak her final words for him into the universe. That was when she marched into the living room, pulled out a notepad, and brought it back to her bedroom to draft up a letter to him.

JJ didn't mind offering to let her ride on the back of his bike for a trip to the store to pick up envelopes, paper, stickers, and the glittery pens at the checkout line that she simply couldn't resist when she set eyes on them.

"Snazzy," he joked when he uncapped the hot pink glitter pen as they wrote their letters together on the hammock, "He'd appreciate the glitter. Even in the afterlife, he can't escape you putting your girly little stickers all over his shit, the poor fucker."

She playfully shoved his leg with hers for the remark and let the action devolve them into a minutes-long wrestling match that nearly landed them ass over teapot onto the grass beneath them.

The comment didn't upset her, though, it made her stomach ache with the familiar feeling that came along with missing her brother, but it didn't upset her. It made her to laugh because of how right he was. Since they were kids, she's always kept around a packet or two of stickers. It started with teachers in preschool leaving them on her worksheets and resulted in Big John treating her to a value pack from Dollar Tree that warmed her giddy heart beyond words.

This led to her leaving her mark everywhere she went with them, which meant John B was the unfortunate victim of her sticker attacks more than he wanted to be. His handmade textbook covers, his hats, his hands, his desk, his phone case, and the interior of his beloved Volkswagen van. Everywhere.

He pretended to hate it too. He groaned and told her to stop putting her unicorns, butterflies, hearts—you name it, she had it at one point or another—on his things, but he secretly lived for finding those things on his stuff. And when they fought, all it took was him finding a scratch 'n sniff sticker with the words, "Berry Good!" printed onto it for him to take a second to debate if the petty argument was worth it.

That was why she laughed through the duration of the pretend fight she and JJ had on the hammock. She laughed until he stopped, hovered over her, and leaned down to kiss her for a second or two. Then, the second or two bled into a moment or two, which bled into five minutes of panting, open-mouthed kisses and wandering hands before she finally redirected them back to their unwritten letters.

Four letters are tucked safely into the box between her hands along with his favorite t-shirt folded up along the bottom as a cushion for them. Her envelope is decked out in stickers, and the rest of theirs have one each stuck over the flap to keep it secured in place.

Her mind is drifting to keep her emotions at bay when she feels a strong, familiar hand grab onto her shoulder. Despite her having the pattern of his palm memorized down to the swirls of his fingerprints, she always knows it's him based on the confidence with which he touches her nowadays. Before, it was more unsure and apprehensive in the way you touch someone who you aren't used to touching. Now, he doesn't have to spare a second thought to slip his hands beneath her shirt, let alone innocently settle his hand over the edge of her shoulder.

Those tense shoulders melt into a heavy exhale she hadn't realize she was holding, and she looks over at him with the urge to cry rushing to her tired eyes.

"What?" she asks, sniffling.

"I said it's your turn."

He pauses, thumb daring to stray for a second to rub circles into her soft skin in comfort before retreating entirely. His hand falls back to his side.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to," Pope says softly.

They're all fighting off emotion at this point for reasons they don't know why. They shouldn't hide their feelings, they should share them and let themselves feel them in their full vivid intensity until they run their course, but they don't want to get themselves too worked up. They may be the closest friends they've ever had, but this is a lot, even for them.

She shakes her head straight away.

No way. After they opened themselves up the vulnerability of bidding John B goodbye, there's no way she can allow them to do it alone. That's a rule violation whether they know it or not. Never leave a Pogue behind. They'll do it together. All of them or none at all.

"No. I want to, I was just thinking too much. I'm sorry."

Taking a step forward require every ounce of courage she has, but she does it. She takes a step forward until the tips of her white painted toes are digging into the freshly turned earth that dips into a jewelry box-sized hole JJ dug for her earlier this morning.

She forces the words out before she can overthink it, like jumping into a freezing pool in a rush of adrenaline pumped excitement to get the adjustment over with.

"Um, I feel like I said everything I could think of in my letter, but I wanted to say goodbye to you for real this time," she begins to speak directly to the name inscribed on the tree trunk.

"You were the best big brother ever. Like in the history of the universe, I don't think it could've gotten any better than having you to grow up with. Even when we fought over how I stole food off your plate, or when I whipped you with my phone charger cord for pushing me off the dock"—her friends laughing softly behind her at the memory makes her grin through her stuffy voice speaking the next words—"you were still my favorite person."

"I honestly still think I see you sometimes. If I didn't know better, I'd think you're still around, 'cause you're everywhere. I'll see someone from behind and think it's you. Or, I'll be driving in van with your favorite song on and if I try hard enough, I can pretend you're sitting there too." She chokes back a cry and continues, "And, Sarah, I'm really sorry I didn't have more time to know you. I know you loved him so much, and I know this puts a lot of faith in my shithead brother to not fuck up sometime along the way, but it would've been fun to be your sister one day."

Her lip wobbles with the urge to cry, and she can't help it this time. The tears spill over the brims of her eyes without anything to stop them as her hands squeeze the sides of the box harder. The rest of them watch her shoulders tremble with the quiet sobs and let the sound sink their aching hearts.

The feeling of Pope coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her in a hug makes her cry a little harder, then she feels Kie and, finally, JJ, and loses any semblance of control of herself.

"Goodbye." The next few words are a hardly audible whisper, "I miss you."

For a while, they remain huddled together in front of the tree with their arms tangled around each other's bodies. Her tears brought on theirs, and now they're all crying softly to themselves in a moment of sweeping emotion that is so vulnerable, they don't know what to do other than let it pass without interference. The only other moment they've shared similar to this was when she, Pope, and Kie held JJ as he cried in the hot tub. It was a difficult day for them, but little did they know, that wouldn't be the end of their hard times.

It's when they pull away that she presses a kiss to the top of the jewelry box, crouches to her knees, and sets it down in the hole in the ground.

They bury it together.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco

[det-loki]

poison & wine pt. nine

Oh darling save yourself

Oh won't you save yourself from someone else

warnings: angst, blood, guns, drugs/overdose

pairing: detective loki x female reader

word count: 1,369

A/N: major apologies for the VERY long wait. I hope this fills the void, part 10 will be the end!

REWRITE MASTERLIST

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 ⌽

It was raining when you arrived at Holly Jones’ home. You should have known then that you should have waited for backup. You didn’t though, desperate to do some right in the world, telling Holly Alex had been found.

She opened the door looking disheveled, eyes wide with shock and concern. When you stepped into her kitchen and told her the news, the reaction you got shook you to your core. She wasn’t happy or relieved or any similar emotion that a person who just got told their nephew had been found alive. She was angry.

The last thing you remember was flashes of your daughter in your mind before it all went black, your body falling limp onto her kitchen floor, the drugged drink concoction spilling around you.

Your head pounded as you slowly woke up, Holly’s voice floating through your ears, “You know, after my husband left, getting kids got harder. Had to try something different.” You groaned as you attempted to roll over, your body feeling like it weighed a ton, sluggish and slow. Your arm brushed against a warm body, your head rolling to find Anna Dover lying in a lump on the floor, eyes closed, chest rising and falling slowly.

Holly continued above you, as she floated in and out of your field of vision, “Your little girl was the guinea pig, injected her with ketamine when you went inside but you came back out and fucked it up. Poor baby overdosed because of you. Couldn’t let you see me so I ran, left your little girl lying in the grass. Such a sweet little thing, pretty like a flower, shame I couldn’t keep her.”

Flashes of memory played in your head, running out of the house and seeing your baby unresponsive on the ground, screaming for the neighbors to call 911, David arriving at the hospital and you collapsing against him, screaming into his chest until your throat felt like it was bleeding, the burn of tears in your nose. Bile worked its way up your throat, your body physically sick at the mental pain you were experiencing.

Your head lolled to one side, too weak and disoriented to control your movements. The magnolia tattoo adorning your ribcage physically pained you, you wished nothing more than to claw it out of your skin; ripping the ink-stained skin off of you and your soul, wishing to breathe again. You would never breathe properly again, not after that day, your Magnolia, who was named after the only good person in Loki’s life, his late grandmother, was dead. As you saw Holly hover you with a needle in hand, the world went black once more.

You dreamt of fields of flowers, Loki, Chinese food, and rain, nothing making sense in the dream, only horrific mashups of everything tied to your life in Conyers. Warmth gathered at your side, and then weight added to that, Anna nuzzling closer to your unresponsive body.

You were woken up again to a distant sound of knocking. You prayed to a God you didn’t believe in that it was David. You had only hoped the lack of text message from you concerned him enough to find you. Your body felt heavy, brian groggy, everything blurred between fake and reality.

Footsteps shook the floor as Holly approached you and Anna, more syringes and vials of liquid in her hands. You rolled further over, your arms creating a protective hold against Anna as Holly approached further with a scowl on her face.

“Don’t be dumb, girl, you know this has to happen.” She spits down at you as she drew up the sedatives, needle darting to Anna’s arm. You lay helpless on the floor as she injected Anna, then approaching you with a different needle.

“No, no.” Your voice scratched horribly, tumbling out of your mouth as Holly gripped your arm tightly. You could faintly hear shuffling along the floor outside the room, but you didn’t know if you were hallucinating or not. You tried jerking your arm away to no avail, too weak to do anything.

Movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention, eyes darting to the doorway as Loki came into view. You knew you weren’t dreaming by judging the look on his face, his gun drawn in a rigid form.

“Show me your hands right now.” Holly pauses, needle inches away from your arm as Loki called out.

“Don’t move and show me your fuckin’ hands right now!” Loki’s voice shook with rage and fear as he trained his gun on Holly’s hunched figure, obstructing his view of you and Anna.

Holly advanced with the needle, piercing your skin with a sharp pinch as Loki yelled, only it was too late, “Stop! Right now!”

You felt your body go limp, starting at your toes as exhaustion crept its way up your body, eyelids heavy.

“Show me your fuckin hands. Do not move and show me your hands.”

Holly dropped your arm with a thud, “Make sure they cremate me. I sure as hell don’t want to be buried in some box.”

Holly stood slowly as Loki yelled at her, “Both hands, right now! Right now!”

Holly drew a gun from her waistband and turned violently in the direction of David. Gunshots rang out loudly, your ears ringing as you slowly slipped in and out of consciousness. Holly dropped next to you dead, Loki scrambling over to you and Anna.

“Baby, hey baby.” Loki’s hands shook as he took your face in his hands, needing to see you alive.

You opened your eyes slowly, feeling as if you were floating in a nightmare, "David, get Anna."

Loki's brow furrowed, blood dripping further down his face leaving a trail of red staining his skin. You felt his hands leave your face as he moved over to Anna, taking her limp body in his arms as your eyes fell closed. You were happy to die if it meant Anna lived.

Your shoulder shook as Loki balanced Anna with one arm, the other nudging you violently. You wanted to sleep, your body heavy, screaming at you to let go.

"Y/N, dammit baby. You gotta wake up for me, we gotta go. You can't leave me, Y/N. Come on baby!" Loki frantically yelled.

You felt a weight in your hand, small and warm. You mustered up enough energy to open your eyes, your daughter staring back at you, wearing the same clothes she wore the day she died, "Mommy, you have to get up."

The floor vibrated under the weight of Loki's boots as he left the room, time passing slowly before he reappeared without Anna. You felt the floor disappear underneath you, your stomach lurching at the movement. Your head pounded, your insides shook, you felt like you were dying. Your head fell limp against Loki's neck as he carried you out of the home.

Rain pelted Loki as he laid your body in the backseat of the car, Anna leaned against the seat next to you, unconscious.

You drifted in and out of reality, waking occasionally to Loki weaving through the rainy streets of Conyers, yelling at you and Anna to stay awake. His hand reached behind him, blindly finding your hand and grasping it, silently pleading for you to still be alive and to stay with him.

He couldn't live without you, not able to bury you too. The cemetery was already too full, your daughter's grave didn't need her mother's too. Loki shuttered at the thought of having to walk into that cemetery again, only this time it would be with your casket, not your daughters. And this time he wouldn't have your hand to hold. He wouldn't have anyone.

The car lurched forward, your body sliding against the passenger seat in front of you as Loki pulled in front of the hospital, red and blue lights flashing against your skin.

You could hear the car door click open, Loki reaching in for Anna, "I'll be right back baby, I'm gonna get you both help."

Loki's voice faded away, faint sounds of him yelling for help as he entered the hospital lulled you back to sleep.

TAG LIST: @lexie-wayland @whew-oh-em-gee @winterlavenderskysworld​ @buck-this-nasty @heeyirenee @pinkpunkdynamite @eleventhdoctorsangel @multiyfandomgirl40 @thanossexual​ @speedybonkuniversityzine​ @booklove103​ @curly-q3 @msfarr88​ @glittrguts​ @space-helen @spidey-is-morgans-brother

[angstyaches]

I’ve Been Away Pt. 2

Part One

CW: anxiety, nausea, indigestion, hospital/nursing home setting, past death mention, degenerative illness, memory loss (dementia), loss of sight, family drama/issues very vaguely implied.

AN: I’ve been sitting on this for so long that everything is now obvious to me, and I’m sorry if it’s a lot more vague/confusing than I think it is. Hopefully Part Three will clear things up if so.

___

“Are you gonna go in?” Shayne asked quietly.

Felix swallowed thickly as the silence broke. He hadn’t even realised Shayne had woken up; he’d been sleeping since about thirty minutes after they’d left, and now it was four hours later.

“I am,” Felix said, trying to sound firm despite the queasy tremble in his voice. He stared out the windscreen at the pale orange building that ran in a semi-circle around the car park. The paint job looked fresh and clean, and the whole scene – even the car park – radiated a silence that reminded Felix of a graveyard. Even the pale blossoms that sprung from the bushes lining the pavement made him think of funeral flowers. He’d seen pictures of the place online, but actually being here felt… strange. 

It was like he was stepping into a life that wasn’t his anymore.

He cringed at the sudden wrenching sensation in his gut. His stomach gave a low grumble as it shifted. He swallowed yet again, gently bringing the back of his hand to his mouth and stifling a weak burp that had crept up. He’d picked up indigestion tablets when he’d stopped to get petrol, but the chalky chunks hadn’t worked too effectively against the rising tide of stress in his belly.

“Did we drive here in silence just to sit here in more silence?”

Felix frowned at that. “We only drove in silence because you fell asleep.”

“Yeah, for about an hour.”

“You were awake for two hours and you didn’t say anything? You didn’t even ask where we were going.”

Shayne gave a lazy shrug. “Didn’t seem like you wanted to talk about it.”

Another uneasy belch rumbled in Felix’s belly. His shoulders moved forward slightly as it slipped up his throat. “Ugh. I really don’t feel well.”

Shayne gestured towards the main building. “I’m sure they’ve got a shit tonne of doctors inside. Wait, are we here to ask about checking Elliott in? He told me the other day that he’s almost seventy in human years, so it’s good that you’re thinking about where to stick him next.”

Felix sighed deeply, wishing he had the energy to deal with the joke, but the thought of Elliott only made his stomach and chest burn even more. He wanted this to be over. He wanted to go home and see his partner.

“Okay,” he said, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and inhaling deeply. “Wish me luck, buddy. I’m going in.”

“Okay, bye, then.”

By the time the long breath was released from Felix’s lungs, his hands hadn’t left the steering wheel of the parked car.

“You’re still sitting there,” Shayne mumbled in a sing-song voice.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Felix replied, sticking a thumb nail between his teeth and biting down on it. He wondered with a shiver of fresh anxiety if he was actually thirsty; should he have packed one of his lollipops to tide him over? Was it even safe for him to go, unescorted, into a building where there were likely needles and blood bags and other such contraptions? Had he really done such a bad job of thinking this through?

Had coming here been a complete mistake?

“Felix…”

“Yes, I know, I’m going,” Felix insisted quietly, an uncertain hand rubbing at his belly. 

“Jesus, are you okay, or what’s going on?”

“I’m fine, I’ve just got… a tad of stupid indigestion.” A slight flush of heat rose to Felix’s cheeks as he felt his stomach gurgle under his hand. “Happens when I’m nervous.”

Shayne clicked his tongue and reached across to undo his seatbelt. “God, if you’re this fucking worked up, what if I go inside with you?”

Felix raised his eyebrows. “Would you really?” he gushed softly.

“Please don’t make this weird and emotional.”

“I always knew you loved me, cuz.”

“Aw. It’s like you think I won’t punch you in the throat.”

___

At least Felix couldn’t have said that the place smelled like death; there was quite a pleasant, disinfectant smell from the moment they stepped through the doors. Well, maybe not pleasant, but it was at least reassuring. The floors were old – beige linoleum from the 90s, it seemed – but they glistened, all the way from the reception desk to the open-plan recreational space at the far side of the lobby. Felix could see at least six figures seated in armchairs, one of them being attended by a nurse while another was shaking a walking stick in the direction of a flat-screen TV.

He swallowed, blinking in surprise when he turned his head and someone had spotted them. Another nurse, a bit older than the one across the room.

“Hi!” the young nurse chirped, glancing at Shayne first, and then at Felix. “Are you here visiting someone?”

Felix’s grip on his documents and newspaper clippings tightened. He wished he’d put them in a folder instead of carrying it all around so conspicuously. His jaw was heavy and his throat was clenched. Yes, he thought, willing his lips to move. How had he forgotten how to form the word yes?!

“Yeah, we are,” Shayne piped up, his voice slightly higher to mimic the tone of the nurse’s.

“Great, what’s the name?”

This time, Felix knew he couldn’t cop out of giving an answer. Shayne could have been the most helpful person in the world, but he wasn’t a mind reader. Felix cleared his throat, swallowing a burning belch before it could burst out of his mouth. “Patri- Patricia Bramley.”

The nurse pursed their lips as they referred to a clipboard on the desk in front of them.

Felix swallowed, fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket. “Trish,” he mumbled.

“Ah, Trish,” the nurse repeated with an air of recognition.

There was a beat of silence that Felix’s mind filled in with disturbing readiness; he braced himself for a look of discomfort or despair to cross the nurse’s face, and for them to gently explain that Trish had been dead for years; that she had wept every night out of loneliness until the loneliness ate so deeply into her heart that it gave out, and that whoever was responsible should –

“She’s actually in her room right now,” the nurse said, an easy smile crossing their face. “She might be sleeping, but if she’s awake, she’ll be very happy to see some visitors.  Is one of you Avery, by any chance?”

The nurse’s gaze was more focused on Shayne as the question was asked, and Shayne quickly responded, “Uh, no.”

A panicked laugh burst past Felix’s lips, causing the nurse to throw him a confused look.

“Nephews, we’re – we’re Trish’s nephews,” he said, hoping his voice wasn’t as shaky as he sounded. “I’m Felix, and this is Shayne.”

“Alright, well, come this way,” the nurse instructed, guiding them towards a hallway to the west of the communal area.

Felix glanced towards the gathering of recliner armchairs and end tables, momentarily drinking in the sound of daytime TV and murmured conversation, before his chest tightened all over again. There was a shakiness in his bones and an empty longing in the pit of his stomach, and he realised he was missing Elliott. All of this could have been so much easier if he’d had Elliott’s hand to hold onto, Elliott’s calming voice to reassure him, Elliott’s easy smile to turn to.

“I can’t remember the last time Trish had a visitor, so this is exciting! She’s going to be delighted. Do you live far away, or..?”

“Mmm, something like that,” Shayne was telling the nurse, meeting Felix’s gaze as he looked forward again. His eyebrows were pulled together, question marks basically jumping out the top of his head. Felix gave a nervous smile that he was sure looked more like a queasy grimace, because he sure was feeling queasy, and the smell of disinfectant was suddenly not helping.

The nurse slowed by a private bedroom, peering around the door. “Here we go – ah, looks like she’s awake after all! Afternoon, Trish!”

Felix’s stomach pretty much hit the floor as he stepped into the room after Shayne and the nurse. The disinfectant smell vanished, talcum powder and the smell of roses swamping the air instead. She had always loved roses and had filled the house with them and doused herself with rose perfumes. Felix could practically hear her singing something in a soft, low voice as he inhaled, though his memory hadn’t held onto any words of the song.

Sunlight trailed gently through a netted curtain, warming the magnolia walls. A knitted purple blanket was thrown across her lower body as she cradled something to her chest with both hands, something that Felix couldn’t quite see. All he could tell was that they had cut her hair. She had always said she wanted to keep her hair long, even into her old age. She’d always been braiding it and twirling it between her fingers. He almost let himself get angry about it, before he realised that no one had been there to tell them to do otherwise – not even him.

“Trish? Your nephews are here to see you,” the nurse exclaimed happily. “Why don’t we sit you up, so you can have a chat?”

“Who – who is that?” the woman whimpered, reaching out a hand, which the nurse promptly took.

“It’s Andy, Mrs. Bramley,” the nurse replied, speaking a little more firmly this time. “I’m here with two of your nephews, isn’t that nice?”

The numbness began to spread out from Felix’s chest as the nurse adjusted the hospital bed so that the silver-haired woman was almost upright without the danger of slumping forward. Soft eyes that had once held such warmth and recognition were unfocused and foggy, never landing anywhere for longer than a few seconds.

She can’t see.

Just how long had he been away?

Shayne backed up a couple of steps, briefly meeting Felix’s panicked gaze, and then swept a hand through the air to beckon him further into the room.

“I-I –” Felix’s stomach flipped as he shook his head, pushing another bubble of acidic air towards his throat. “Shayne, I can’t – I-I don’t think I can do this.”

“Nephews?” the woman mumbled.

“Yeah, your nephews…” Nurse Andy looked at Shayne, beckoning him to the other side of the bed. “Felix and – Shayne, was it?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s me,” Shayne said, awkwardly letting himself be guided into a stiff plastic chair.

Felix lingered by the opposite wall, smiling weakly at the nurse as they glanced over at him.

“Shayne and Felix are here,” Andy repeated for the sake of Patricia’s hearing. “They’re gonna talk to you for a little while, okay? And I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes with your lunch.”

“Ah…” Patricia nodded slowly, a nervous twitch of a smile crossing her face. “Oliver will want steak for his lunch. But don’t let him near the whisky cabinet until the sun goes down.”

Andy shot Shayne and Felix a smile that said good luck, and left.

There was dead silence for what felt like the longest time, in which the woman turned her head to look in the direction the window. Felix could barely see her face now.

Shayne sat forward in the armchair, elbows resting on his knees. Felix felt his gaze land on him briefly before he stared at the floor. “Are you okay?”

Felix opened his mouth to answer, but Patricia answered first. Shayne’s head shot up at the sound of her voice, his eyes wide.

“Oh, I’m quite fine, sweetheart,” she replied, tilting her head in Shayne’s direction. “You can tell your father I’m quite alright.”

Shayne made brief eye contact with Felix again, before a wandering hand caught his attention. He seemed to automatically reach up to let it rest against his own palm, and the woman tightened her grip around it.

“I’m…” Shayne shifted in the chair and cleared his throat. “Patricia, I’m not – I’m not your son.”

“Oh, my son…” Patricia gave a low chuckle. “Are you friends with Avery?”

Felix felt his hair stand on end, bristling with a cold that just wasn’t there. He expected another look from Shayne, but he didn’t get one.

“Avery?” Shayne’s voice was surprisingly soft. He continued letting her hold his hand, which Felix found surprising.

A pinch of anxiety made Felix’s skin bristle. He shook his head in denial, thinking maybe he could shake the name out of his head; he hadn’t heard it in so long, and it felt like it would have dragged a gasp out of him, if he could bring himself to breathe at all. He looked down and rearranged his feet on the spotless linoleum floor. The nerves were a permanent tingling knot in the pit of his belly, a sour taste in the back of his throat that he couldn’t get rid of. Tears burned his eyes and throat, the kind that he knew would overwhelm him for hours if he let them fall.

“That’s a… nice name,” Shayne was saying.

“No,” Patricia mumbled, shaking her head with curious ambition. “My baby was never Avery, not for a single… Oh, I have to – have to pick him up at two o’clock. Have to – have to wash Avery’s hands, Avery’s little hands… Oliver hates mess. Hates it in the house.”

“Shayne,” Felix whispered, taking a step backwards, towards the door.

Shayne looked up. “What?” he hissed.

“I think we – we should – we should go,” Felix whimpered. He was starting to feel very, very ill, now that he was able to put a face, a voice, a set of memories, to the sketch outline he’d kept in his head. These were names and things he hadn’t let himself even think about for thirteen years. He’d put all of this in a box – in a coffin, more or less – and had never intended on opening it.

He lifted the back of his hand and turned his head to let out a couple of deep, anxious belches, trying his best to keep his eyes from watering.

“Hey, Trish?” Shayne said, starting to get up from the chair. “I have to go to the bathroom, but my friend’s going to keep talking to you. Right?”

“Wh-what?” Felix stammered. His heart leapt as Shayne nodded to the chair, beckoning for Felix to come around the bed and take his seat. Bitter acid licked the back of his throat.

“Yeah, come on, sit down,” Shayne said loudly, using that same breezy voice he’d put on when he’d spoken to Nurse Andy. It seemed to prick up Patricia’s ears and hold her attention, because she turned her head slightly, as though searching for

Felix’s hands shook as he laid his documents down on the bedside locker and then shuffled around the end of the bed. He let his weight sit at the very edge of the seat, legs too twitchy with nervous energy to sit all the way back. He glanced up as he sensed Shayne moving away.

He gently grabbed onto the dark-haired boy’s arm.

“Shayne,” Felix whispered, feeling the break in his own voice as it trembled.

“Relax, I’m right fucking here,” Shayne whispered. He cleared his throat and broke out the peppy voice from before. “Hey, Trish, this is my friend. His name’s –”

“Felix,” Felix murmured, gently laying his hand over the back of hers. The contact was surreal, like he was holding a hand made of wax, and he might have dropped it again out of abject fear, if she hadn’t closed her fingers around his. “I’m… I’m Felix.”

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“H-hi, how – how are you doing?”

“Oh, I was just weeding the flower beds.”

Felix’s heart sank. He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been expecting; it wasn’t as though touching her own flesh and blood would suddenly bring back the coherency that had been eaten away by the dementia over the years.

“Sorry,” he whispered, clearing his throat and staring at the back of her hand. The words felt and sounded insufficient for what he needed them for, and yet he couldn’t think of any better ones. “I’ve been away for a, um, a long time, and I’m – I’m really sorry.”

Nothing changed on her face, nothing to indicate that she was taking any of what he was saying in. He felt a flutter of relief in his chest.

He realised Shayne wasn’t listening, either; in fact, he’d gone around to the other side of the bed and picked up something from Felix’s pile of papers. Felix didn’t have the heart to say anything to stop him.

“Oliver Bramley,” Shayne mumbled, frowning at a cutting from a newspaper. “Her husband’s a tech guy, apparently he’s worth millions.”

Felix squeezed Patricia’s hand and watched as Shayne flipped to the next clipping.

“Oh,” Shayne said, almost immediately after seeing the next headline. “He was worth millions. He’s been dead a few years…” His voice drifted off as he read to the end of the article. He looked up at Felix. “It says Avery’s dead too.”

“Yeah,” Felix said softly, turning his gaze towards her again. Her expression was peaceful, and her hands were gentle as they both cupped Felix’s. Her fingers, he realised, were drifting softly across his skin, a little more pointedly than Felix felt comfortable with. It looked like she was feeling for a watch or a bracelet, until she pressed the pads of her fingers into his wrist, as though she was checking his pulse.

Felix’s stomach flipped as he realised what was happening.

She was checking whether or not he had a pulse.

Felix sat up straight and tried to pull his hand free, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Patricia jumped slightly, and lifted her head as though to meet his gaze, even though she couldn’t. He blinked, and tears dropped onto his lap.

All of the things he’d thought, at some time or another, that he’d like to say to her, seemed to evaporate straight off his tongue. His throat was probably too dry to form any words, in any case.

“Felix,” Patricia whispered, that smile breezing across her face again. As he looked up at her and blinked away tears, he envisioned the years melting out of her skin, her face quickly becoming the one that he remembered.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding briskly and trying to ignore the tears that were gathering in his eyes. He had never believed he’d hear that name being spoken by that voice.

“That suits you much better, darling.”

[yeeharley]

tattoo hc’s

for @yourfriendlyneighborhoodnerd

• Harley gets his first tattoo the minute he turns eighteen. He’s got a July birthday- a true summer child- so he’s waiting outside of the parlor on the eve of his birthday with his wallet in his hand, his mother at his side, and anticipation growing deep in his stomach.

• He’s been thinking about this for a long time, since he was fifteen or sixteen, and he’s always known what he was going to get. He sits down in the chair, pulls the picture up on his phone, and sets his forearm down on the arm of the chair before he can be prompted to.

• The needle stings his skin. He doesn’t care very much- after all, the end product is more than worth the wait.

• Harley leaves the tattoo parlor with a pair of large magnolia flowers on his left bicep and a huge smile on his face. The ink settles beneath his skin in thin, careful lines. He loves his first tattoo. Can’t seem to get enough of it, keeps getting more- a small cross on his right pec, another flower on his right bicep for his grandmother, an equal sign in bold on his wrist.

• There is no marking on his body for his father. There will never be a marking on his body for his father.

• Peter gets his first tattoo the day after he turns eighteen. He’s got an August birthday, so he’ll have it just in time for college. Something about that feels thrilling, exciting, exhilarating. He’s an adult now, able to make his own choices, do what he wants.

• The artist shoots him a look of sympathy when he shows her what he wants. He leaves thirty minutes later with a bolded semicolon on the inside of his left wrist, red around the edges, and a sense of calm in his mind. He’s made it to eighteen- who’s to say he won’t make it further?

• It takes him two weeks to decide on his next designs, and when he does, he’s back with a vengeance. A red rose blossom just below his ribcage for Mary Parker’s red hair. A solid black ring around his left index finger- the same spot that his father had worn his favorite ring. Ben’s initials behind his left ear. May’s behind his right.

• He feels perfect. Flawless. Decorated with the symbols of his family, the symbols of the people who cared for him and made him who he is. This is the way he is supposed to be, and he is living for it.

• Peter and Harley meet at MIT during Peter’s freshman year (Harley is barely a year his senior). Peter is immediately drawn to the designs on his new friends arms- okay, yeah. It’s hot. He thinks it’s very hot; after all, he’s never met a guy with flower tattoos, and it is very attractive.

• Harley sees the semicolon on Peter’s wrist and immediately vows to protect him. The little letters behind his ears pique his interest right away, but he doesn’t ask what they mean, instead waiting for Peter to bring them up.

• Their first kiss is not on the lips. Harley presses his lips to the mark on Peter’s wrist, then the letters behind his right ear, then the letters behind his left. Peter shivers when he kisses the rose on his stomach before carefully reciprocating, pressing a kiss to every petal on the magnolias on Harley’s arm.

• Neither of them has ever felt so appreciated. So loved.

• It’s no surprise that they find themselves outside of a Michigan tattoo parlor, hand in hand, pictures pulled up on each of their phones respectively. Peter holds Harley’s hand as another magnolia is inked onto his bicep, and Harley kisses Peter’s clenched knuckles as a magnolia of his own appears opposite Mary’s rose.

• They are both canvases covered in paint, in love. 

• And now, their canvases are just a bit closer.

send me an idea and i’ll write you a headcanon

[thewritingstar]

Enchanted For a Moment (revamped)

Pairings: Reds, Blues, Greens

Fandoms: The Powerpuff Girls

Rating: T (might change with chapters) 

Word count: 7755

Summary: A royal au that showcases three different types of relationships. As Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup work for Princess Eliza Morbucks, they have a secret they want to keep but when a trial of suitors comes for the princess, everyone is going to discover something they never intended too. 

Note: This is a rewrite of my story "Enchanted for a Moment". Its much longer and in depth and I hope you all enjoy. Huge thank you to my wonderful and stunning beta, Miss Cilla @creativecilla for helping me bring this to life. Another thank you to my other betas Aves @avesthetea and Lisa @lisathefan for coming along on the journey. 

Chapter 1

---

The sun rose gently on the horizon as a new day started in Townsville. It was a simple kingdom filled with simple people who lived simple lives. The town was small yet full of life. There was the bakery that filled the air with an aroma of vanilla and sugar. The library and school house where little minds grew big. Not to mention the busy harbor that had an excellent array of fish, meats, and vegetables.

Everything and everyone within the kingdom had their place. They had a job and a status to uphold and the princess was no exception.

The daughter of King Morbucks, Princess Eliza, was the fairest lady in all the land. At least, that is what they said in order to keep her peace. In all honesty, Eliza, who demanded to be referred solely as Princess, was a menace.

She was anything but a graceful girl. Demands came from her mouth the second she was born and no one had ever told her no. She could manipulate anyone with a blink of an eye or a bribe. She wasn’t one for genuine smiles or doing charitable work, no. She cared about her crown more than anything else in the kingdom, why bother with anything else?

Yes, Townsville was a peaceful kingdom for the most part, yet hidden within the walls of the castle was a secret that few had known.

♛♛♛

“Princess. Please hold still!” Bubbles winced as she tried to measure Princess for a new gown. The blonde stepped back, avoiding the elbow coming towards her face and blew out her bangs. “Your majesty.” She groaned but Princess was in the mirror staring at herself as if she was the most beautiful creature on the planet.

“Quit your whining, maid.” She spat at Bubbles, who only tightened her lip and grabbed the basket full of fabrics and sewing needles.

“I’ll return tomorrow then.” She said defeatley as she saw the sun setting through the glass windows. Another few hours wasted and she had gotten practically nothing done.

“Whatever.” Princess said without taking her eyes off her mirror.

Bubbles finished packing, feeling her own temper rise out of anger and irritation. She shoved her hand into the basket to hide the small blue glow coming from her palm and quickly walked towards the door.

“Excuse you.” The princess snapped and gave her a scowl.

Bubbles’ shoulders tightened and she pressed her hand further into her basket. She sighed before giving a small bow towards her. “Until tomorrow.” She bit her lip. “Your majesty.”

Bubbles closed the door to the room and roamed down the private wing that belonged to the maids and servant quarters.

She made a right at one of the hallways towards her own room, the one she shared with her two sisters, Blossom and Buttercup Utonium. Ever since she was a little girl, Bubbles dreamed of the life of royalty.

Her father would read her stories of princes kissing their princess in an act of true love. They would live happily ever after in a castle just as grand as this one and all was well. How she dreamed it would be like that.

However, it was far from it. The only reason her sisters lived within the palace walls was due to something she would rather forget.

She was fifteen when it had happened. Her eldest sister, Blossom, came through the door, a soft look on her face that she had never worn before. Tears lay on her water line as she hugged Bubbles to her chest telling her of their fathers passing. Buttercup returned from the docks as the news swarmed the town and the three of them stood before their father's grave dressed in the ink black fabric as their sobs rang like the church bells.

Bubbles could remember the way Blossom stood. Her shoulders pulled tight as her fists clenched together and she tried to be strong, she hardly smiled after that. The next thing she knew, they were being set up in the castle. A private room that the three would share and all they had to do was work there.

Buttercup worked as a private guard and occasionally helped with supply income from the docks. Bubbles’ ability to make a dress out of pure scraps lead her towards the seamstress route. As for Blossom, she was appointed as Princess’s tutor and main maid. Bubbles never knew how she had managed to replace the woman with that role as Blossom would constantly bicker with the princess, yet when she asked, her question was brushed aside.

Bubbles made her way into the servants wing. It wasn't as luscious as the rest of the castle but still held some elegance to keep up with the look. She pushed the door open and placed her basket on the nearest chair in the room as she rubbed her palm making the blue glow die down.

“Blossom, she is killing me.” Bubbles complained before flopping on her bed. “I pricked my finger five times because she wouldn’t stay still!” Bubbles held her index finger that was much redder than the others.

The red head looked up from her book. She gave her little sister an innocent look, one that knew exactly how she felt as she also had to deal with the spoiled brat on the daily.

“I'm sorry. Then again, I am not surprised.” Blossom turned the next page. She was sitting on the window sill, a place Bubbles found her on the daily.

“How hard is it to stay still?! I swear, I’ve made dresses for babies that don’t squirm as much.” She blew out some air before reaching up and undoing the two pigtails wrapped in blue ribbons. Her soft blonde hair fell just past her shoulders, much shorter than her older sister. “Oh Blossom, you should have seen the way my hand glowed. Do you know how hard it was to keep a smile?” She pointed towards her cheeks. “Extremely difficult.”

“And yet, you have one of the most stunning smiles in the land.” Blossom responded as another page turned in her book.

Bubbles stared at her, slightly entranced by how peaceful she looked. Although, she didn’t miss the slight darkness under her eyes and the subtle crease in her brow. Even with the clear toll of taking care of her sisters, Bubbles thought that under the soft glow of the light, her sister was the essence of beauty.

Ever since they were little girls, Blossom had always caught the eyes of everyone around her, but never on purpose. She was the most quiet of the three, with Buttercup being brash and Bubbles’ loud personality shining through. Yet she could captivate anyone she walked past.

She had taught herself to read and then her sisters, something not many could do. Bubbles always believed she would be married first, she was the oldest afterall and there was no shortage of suitors looking for her hand.

In fact it was one of the reasons why Princess wasn’t a fan of her, among other things as well.

A sad smile came onto her lips as the blonde laid on her back and looked up at the tall ceiling. She had always loved the painted flowers displayed there. She could spend hours tracing her finger in the air among the patterns and wondering what they’d smell like if they were to bloom in the gardens, unfortunately magnolias never grew in the kingdom, but she could dream.

“Do you remember when father would read us the stories?” Bubbles said out loud. It wasn’t rare to speak of their late father, but there were times that were easier than others. Even after two years of not having him here, Bubbles missed him as if the wound were fresh.

She could hear the page turning stop and looked towards Blossom, who was now looking out the window.

“Every single one.” The red head responded, her own lips turning up into a smile that Bubbles wished she could see more.

“Would you tell me one?” Bubbles asked as she toyed with the hem of her dress.

Blossom marked her page and closed the book, setting it on the small table and walked towards her sister's bed. “You should get ready for bed and perhaps when you’re done, Buttercup will be back to join us.” She brushed a light blonde lock out of her sister's face and watched as Bubbles left to the small bathroom attached to their room.

She heard the water begin to run and returned to her seat at the window. Her eyebrows drew together as she looked up towards the sky. The moon had begun to rise as stars speckled the sky.

“Where is Buttercup?” She asked, as her younger sister was usually back by now.

♛♛ Earlier that Afternoon ♛♛

“Captain, the shipment crew spotted something along the far shoreline, hidden beyond the trees. They suspect that it’s an undocumented ship from another kingdom or worse, pirates.”

Captain Lumpkins, an older man who had seen more passing moons than most, was one of the most trusted men in the kingdom’s service. He was short and stout with a thick beard and with a loose temper like his, and his face always seemed to be a nice shade of pink.

Lumpkins faced in the direction that his crew member told him of, a squint in his eyes as he tried to look for a sign of the ship but it was blocked by the rocky formations of the cliff side. The wooden pipe that constantly hung from his lips let out a thick puff of smoke that the crew had gotten used to. He scoured his crew, looking through the few faces to pick from until he settled on the girl with the jet black hair.

He snapped his fingers before pointing towards Buttercup. “Little Lady, take the lead and go find out what all the fuss is about.” he grumbled, before turning his back, giving her no time to protest.

“Alone?” Buttercup questioned. She was more than capable of handling her own but it was better to travel in pairs, especially if the threat of pirates was around.

The Captain looked back before blowing on his pipe again. “Problem?” He grinned and showed his more than yellow teeth that were probably better to be made of wood at this point.

Her eyes narrowed and she bit her lip. She knew he was only doing this because the first time they had met, she had accidentally hit him with a door and sent him flying towards the ground, not to mention she almost broke his banjo.

“No sir.” She spat and felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Be careful.” Mitch said, before giving her a nod and following the captain.

Mitch was a simple guy. Dark brown eyes and messy brown hair, he was nothing special but was extremely skilled with a bow and arrow. They had lived in the same part of the village before she moved to the castle and he had been drafted into the captain guard by the time he was fifteen. She considered him to be one of her only friends, even if he was slightly annoying. However, he never once doubted her skills.  

Buttercup sighed before stalking off, boots hitting the dock with a little more anger than she intended. She threw her hands in her pockets so the small spark of green they emitted went unnoticed by the people in the area. In all honesty, she didn’t care that she went by herself. If anything, she was as good with a sword as she was sassy, and hardly anyone tried to mess with her.

It took more than half an hour to reach the hidden beach. She didn’t mind the stroll since it gave her an excuse to not be around the annoying stare of her captain. It blew her mind that some old fat man was the captain. Some of the other crew mates had told her that he once owned a farm and even a cabin in the deeper parts of the woods. After an accident with flooding of the crops, he had been put into the guard service and moved his way to the top.

Buttercup stood on the small cliff. She could see the ship below and it took her breath away at how massive and stunning the beast was. The ship was made of dark wood that looked like squid ink against the blue sea. The masts held thick, white cloth and a smaller flag that was decorated with a skull and crossbones. It was a typical sign for pirates to have, but this one had a dark green trim.

It looked like a classic ship. She had seen many sailing on the sea when she had accompanied the navy team for a few deliveries, but what had intrigued her most was the statue on the forepeak. Most of the time, a mermaid or maiden was craved and crafted onto the front; something about the ladies of the sea or the fact that the only people on board were horny men who could barely please their wives.

Instead, this ship had something different. She slipped down from the cliff and jumped the shore. She noticed the ship was much larger than she had thought as she approached the front. She looked up at the statute. A beautiful craving of a fairy was displayed. Her face was round and looked soft with large wings curving around the ship, each wing held an intricate design.

Buttercup had never seen something so expertly crafted, and the words below it were just as fascinating.  

“The Empress.” She whispered to herself. She had a keen knowledge on the many famous pirates that roamed the sea. Each of them in search for their own thing, be it treasure or the destruction of anything in their way.

A gasp left her lips as she realized that docked on this beach was one of the most viscous groups of pirates around. Legends had told that a fearless captain commanded the ship and the water around him. Wherever he went, danger and death followed. Her father once told her that if you ever became a prisoner among his deck, your life would drip out slowly and painfully and there was no mercy in his eyes. It was said that his gaze alone could strike fear even into the bravest of hearts.

She should have turned back to warn Lumpkins of what was here. She should have left with a shiver down her spine, but she had gotten closer to the ship, her fingers gliding along the wood and she felt little to no fear.

The ram to the deck was down and when she looked around, she found no crew members in sight, an odd occurrence, really. Her foot was on the ram and she had begun walking up without realizing.

If Blossom were here, she would have lost her mind. She could hear her voice now.

“Buttercup Utonium, what were you doing near a pirate ship? I don’t care that it was an order, you are only eighteen!” She said in a tone, mimicking her older sister.

The deck was spotless as she stepped onto it, still no one in sight and she wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or even more suspicious. As she walked, there was nothing around her that screamed ‘pirate’. Sure there were some cannons and weapons lying around, but nothing that had shown any sort of activity for a few weeks.

She had decided to head back, hardly anything to report, and wondered if this ship had been overthrown and abandoned. As she went to leave, her eyes went towards a door that was no doubt made for a captain. She got closer, there was a plaque inscribed with a single word, or rather name on it.

“Butch.” She muttered.

One hand went onto the door knob while the other rested on her dagger, with a swift push, the door opened. She took one step inside before her eyes widened. Leaning against a large oak desk was, no doubt in her mind, the captain of the very ship she now realized she was trespassing on.

The man looked up from where he was sharpening a knife before flashing her a wicked smile that revealed slightly sharper teeth than a normal person should have and piercing green eyes that challenged her own lighter ones.  

“Well, what do we have here?” He questioned, before throwing the knife towards a wall behind him.

Buttercup froze in place, unsure of what to do. She hadn’t expected anyone to be here and now she felt like she had walked into a lion’s den. She hadn’t even noticed that he walked towards her and when she snapped back to reality, one arm had snaked around her waist and the other held her wrist above her head, keeping her dagger out of reach.

“Quiet now, are we?” He smirked. They were mere inches apart with their chest flushed together, but she noticed that his grip wasn’t rough enough to hurt.

“Not quite.” She responded. “I would be careful holding a lady hostage like this.”

He laughed. “You’re the one who came onto my ship, sweetheart.” He reminded her. “I’m just making sure my property is safe. What are you doing?”

“Scouting out dirty pirates.” She sneered before glaring at him. “And I think I found one.”

“I'm rather clean, doll. But I can get dirty, if that’s what you want.” He whispered in her ear.

There was something within her that shuttered and she couldn’t quite place what was happening, but the more she stayed in his hold, the more she didn’t mind. She fell silent and studied him. He was slightly taller than her, just enough to have an edge, and a mop of black hair that looked to have a natural spike, if that was even possible. In her lifetime she had encountered many men but she was certain that he was by the far the hottest man she had faced, and she hated it.

“Dirty pirate and a disgusting pig, what’s new?” She looked away and tried to search the room, but instead she was now being dipped by the so-called dirty pirate.

“Eyes on me only, doll.” He said and her gaze hooked to his again. She felt a sudden fire in her stomach as he brought her closer to him. “Can’t have you running to your little captain and telling on me.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “How did you know that I worked for the royal crew?” She demanded.

“Lucky guess.” Her glare narrowed. “Your dagger is engraved with the symbol, dummy.” He said as he took her dagger and threw it across the room. “Oops.”

A feeling of fear sparked through her body as she watched her weapon slide against the wooden floor.

“So now what?” She asked. “Gonna kill me?”

He chuckled before pulling up from the dipped position but still holding her to him. “Nope. You have this spunk, I like it. I also have no need to kill you, too messy and honestly, kinda lame.”

“So what, you’re just gonna hold me?”

“Ehh, I was thinking we could get to know each other, doll.”

She gave an eye roll that he thought was amusing, before she lifted the heel of her foot and locked it with his, twisted his arm to send him flying towards the ground. He landed on his back with a thud before she placed her boot on his very tone chest and the sound of metal sliced through the air as her sword pointed towards his flushed face.

“You have a lot of nerve flirting with a royal guard member, ya’ know that? I should have broken your hand the moment you laid a finger on me.” She spat.

Butch chuckled and she felt the virbation from beneath her foot. “Can’t blame a man when you look like that.” He said, as he looked at her with no shame.

She felt her cheeks heat but she held her ground. “What are you doing here?” She questioned him.

“Can’t a man sail on his own?” He responded, but was met with a harder push of her heel.

She scoffed. “You’re no ordinary man.”

“And you’re not a fair lady, guess we all have our own issues, babe.”

She ignored what he said and initiated her search, foot still on his chest. She sent her sword piercing into the collar on his leather coat. “Stay still.” She sneered before stepping over him.

“Yes Ma’am.” He purred.

Behind his desk was a giant map of the main spread of kingdoms. Thick black lines connected some routes but she decided not to ask. Towards her right was a bed with fine silk sheets and a wardrobe. To the left, were cabinets filled with all sorts of stuff. Glass bottles and sea shells. Sea glass and parchment scattered around. It looked similar to Lumpkins’ private quarters, but with more skulls and less reek of tobacco and hay.

Placed on a random shelf was a photo of two other men. The ink was black and white yet she could tell that their eyes and hair were much different from each other. The taller one had a scowl and a cold gaze while the shorter one was smiling brightly and looked as innocent as a puppy. She said nothing about it and moved on, looking at the items and weapons that hung on the wall.

She turned to look at the man on the floor and he hadn’t moved an inch from where she left him. Instead, he began whistling as she looked through his desk and found more scrolls and random objects. There was nothing out of the ordinary that screamed ‘danger’ and perhaps he was telling the truth, just sailing because he can.

“Where’s your crew?” She asked.

“Back home. Like I said before, I just was sailing and stopped on by.”

“Where’s back home?”

“Not too sure, left there a long time ago. This is my home.” He said, gesturing his ship. “What’s your name?” He asked.

“I’m asking the questions here.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “This is my ship, so I’d watch the attitude and answer the question.” He poked at the sword.

She turned towards him and then back at the map. “Buttercup.”

“Seems a little soft for you.”

“Well, ‘Butch’ seems to fit you fine.”

Buttercup looked around more until she came back to him and grabbed the handle of the sword. With a swift pull, the sword released its grasp on the fabric and was put back into the holder hidden in her boot. She leaned down before placing her knee on his chest and placed her fingers along the leather collar and yanked hard causing his head to snap towards her.

“I’ll believe you for now, but if I catch you doing anything suspicious, I won’t hesitate to put my sword through you.” She threatened.

He raised his eyebrows. “I’ll behave, doll. Promise.” He batted his eyelashes. “You should know that offering to stab me is a real turn on, too.” He gushed, and before he could see the reaction to the statement, she was off of him and moving to grab her dagger.

He got up and dusted his coat off, not caring that there was a small tear. “I’ll cut you a deal Buttercup. If you don’t go running your mouth that a pirate ship is here, granted I’m, let's say off duty, I’ll answer any question you want. Maybe even let you take this beauty for a spin.”

“You’d let me sail your ship?” She asked with caution.

“I was talking about the bed but the ship will do.”

Her face morphed into what most would say, unamused. But she contemplated his offer. If she stayed quiet then she would gain information on other pirates and other useful things.

“Alright, you have a deal.” She held out her hand. “I’ll keep quiet for now.”

He took her hand and shook it. “Can’t wait for your return, Buttercup.”

She pushed past him and tucked the dagger into her pocket and walked out the door. Something within her wanted to go back to the castle and bury her head in her pillow and scream. Her boots hit the sand as she began to walk but before she got any further, the statute of the fairy somehow made her stop and ponder things.

The boot twisted in the sand and soon she was back at the door with her hand gripping the handle. As she opened it, Butch directed his attention to her and she noticed the bottle of amber liquid on the desk and two glasses already full as if he had expected her not to leave.

“Back so soon?” He raised a brow and offered her a filled glass.

With caution to the wind, she came towards him and sat on the desk.

“I’d like that tour now.” She said before taking the glass and downing the liquid. “Captain.”

There was a spark in his eyes as he finished his own drink and gestured to the vast room. “And here I thought you came back because you missed me.”

She laughed and accepted another pour of the drink. “You’re going to have to do a lot more than yapping and drinking to get me to miss you.” She winked, and he felt a tingle roll down his spine.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to work hard to impress you then?”

She bit her lip. “Guess so.”

They shared another drink, glasses clinking as they tilted their heads back and drank it all in one go.

“Shall we?” Butch prompted, and she responded with a firm nod and matching grin.

♛♛♛

Bubbles stepped out from the bathroom, her cotton nightgown hugging her body as she walked towards her bed and began to brush her hair. Blossom had also changed into her night time attire as the door to their room opened.

“Buttercup, there you are.” Blossom said. She looked over her sister whose uniform was slightly wrinkled and a few buttons missing. “Where have you been? You were off duty hours ago.”

The green eye girl shrugged as she made her way to the bathroom. “I was taking care of other orders, relax.” She reassured her older sister but something didn’t sit well with Blossom as the bathroom door closed.

“Well hurry up, Blossom is gonna tell a story!” Bubbles whined, as she picked up her stuffed octopus her mother had made her when she was little.

Buttercup came out of the bathroom and sat on Bubbles’ bed. “Ooh, which one?” She asked and Blossom set her books aside and came over to sit in front of the girls on a chair.

“Bubbles requested the one of the princess and-”

“You always tell that one!” Buttercup complained.

“It's cute!” Bubbles defended her beloved tale.

The middle sister pushed her shoulder lightly. “It’s boring. Choose a different one. Like the pirate king.”

“Pirates are scary!”

“Not all of them.” Buttercup whispered under her breath.

Blossom narrowed her eyes. “What was that Buttercup?”

“N-nothing, just tell the stupid princess one.” She grumbled with flushed cheeks.

Blossom only blew up her bangs and rolled her eyes. “Alright, but first I need to tell you something. Tomorrow begins the process for the Princess to meet her future husband. That means that a vast amount of suitors, from all over the land, will be here.”

A small gasp came from Bubbles. The red head shot her a glare. “Which means: no interfering. We are here to serve whether you like it or not, so don’t go poking around for some attractive man.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Buttercup groaned. “I’m so thankful I’m not a maid.”

“I’m not worried about you Buttercup. But you.” She looked at her little sister. “Be good. I know you are a beautiful maiden and kind hearted but I would rather not have your head on a platter because you made Princess jealous.” Blossom frowned.

Bubbles nodded and toyed with the hem of her dress. “I understand Blossy. But what if he falls in love with me?” She pouted out her lips and gave her big puppy dog eyes. “It wouldn’t be very nice of me to deny a lovely man his heart.”

“Be good.” Blossom restated and flicked her sister’s head. “Now, listen closely.”

Buttercup and Bubbles squished together as their sister started the story.

“Once upon a time…”

♛♛♛

The morning sun came shining through the windows. Over in the mirror, Blossom was finishing getting ready and fencing her long copper hair into a bun, finishing with her red ribbon tied. She had stopped wearing her childhood bow for many years. She was approaching her twentieth birthday this year and had thought it had been a little silly. That was until her mother passed when she was eleven, around the time she had stopped.

Blossom started in the mirror at the bow, deep with a rich red color and her mother's words played in her mind.

“Everytime I see your bow, it takes me back to the first time I held you in my arms.”

The next time she had placed the bow in her hair, her mother was being buried before her.

Blossom came back to her thoughts as Bubbles exited the bathroom dressed in her blue outfit and ready for another day.

“Good morning Blossy.” Bubbles smiled brightly. Her giggles were infectious to say the least and it was almost a miracle that she hadn’t lost that laughter after so much tragedy.

“Good morning Bubbles.” Blossom offered a small smile and she could see the hope in her sister’s eyes. “Buttercup just left, she’s on duty to welcome the suitors.”

The blonde nodded before spinning around in her dress. It was a simple blue bodice with a fluffy skirt. Even though Princess could be a royal brat, she did demand that her maids and suitors looked better and not shoved into black clothing like other castles.

“I’m so excited! This means that I can start designing dresses for the gala.” Bubbles gushed and she held her cheeks as she continued mumbling about the patterns and fabrics.

“Bubbles?” Blossom called.

“Oh, maybe she’ll want something red or purple!”

“Bubbles?”

“Or maybe gold, made of silk? No, that's tacky.”

“BUBBLES!”

The blonde's eyes snapped to her sister who was tapping her foot.

“Yes?”

Blossom pointed above her. “Your bag is floating.”

Bubbles tilted her head up and surrounded in a soft blue glow was her sewing basket with the contents floating around it. She looked towards her hands which were still emitting the light before blushing embarrassingly and making a motion with her finger. The basket came back to the ground softly.

“Oops.” Bubbles whispered.

The smallest laugh came from Blossom as she came towards her and kissed the top of her head. “I know you are excited but please, remember that your magic can not be seen. Ever.” She said cautiously.

“I know Blossy, it was an accident.”

Blossom grabbed her own small bag before opening the door and letting Bubbles walk out first. “I’ll see you for supper, and remember…”

Bubbles turned on her heels. “I know. I know. No falling in love with handsome men.” She giggled. “That goes for you too.”

The red head only shook her head before parting ways at the hallway. “Don’t prick your finger too much.”

Bubbles stuck out her tongue playfully. “Don’t make Princess mad.”

♛♛♛

Buttercup hated ushering duty more than anything else. Carriage after carriage came, each one to a different family or prince. Apparently royal status didn’t matter as long as you could pay the entrance fee, then, you were in.

“Damn, how many men are here?” Buttercup blurted. She had been standing next to Mitch for the past hour waving and guiding in the horses.

“I lost count after fifty.” He frowned. “Turns out this thing is a contest, so they should be sent home left and right.”

“Eh, that means the place is going to be filled with snotty assholes.”

Another wave of men came in, each carriage fancier than the rest.

“They all look the same at this point.” She laughed and Mitch joined in.

Just as she said that, a carriage pulled up. Unlike the other golden and bronze ones, this one was made of black steel. She caught a glimpse of the men inside. A blond man with blue eyes and another with ginger locks and eyes the shade of crimson.

They passed by just as quickly as they arrived and she couldn’t place the feeling, but they seemed vaguely familiar.

“I can’t wait for this day to be over.” Mitch groaned and she hummed before looking back at the black carriage that had just past the gate.

♛♛♛

“Boomer, pay attention.” Brick spat at his younger brother. “We aren’t here to fool around.”

Boomer, who was currently jumping on the plush bed, stopped and rolled his eyes before grinning. “Come on bro, look at this place!” He gestured to the room they were staying in while the competition took place. “I mean, I know we live in our own castle but this place is almost twice the size!”

Brick frowned and went back to unpacking their things and making sure everything was in place. “Just settle down. Keep jumping like that and you’re going to damage something.” As soon as he said that, he heard a tearing sound come from behind him.

“Boomer!” He shouted, as his little brother stood there with a ripped sleeve in his nicest dark blue jacket.

“Oops?” He shrugged and watched his older brother’s face morph into anger.

“Eighteen years old and you still act like a child. Go see if the seamstress can fix your jacket before I punch you in the face.” He pointed towards the door.

“Fine.” The blond huffed. “But seriously, lighten up. No girl is gonna wanna marry a dude with the personality of a wet sock.” He said before shutting the door.

He heard Brick shout something on the other side of the door but he couldn’t make out the words through the thick walls. With his jacket under his arm, he walked through the hallways trying to find the seamstress’ room.

“Excuse me?” He asked a passing maid. “Where is the royal seamstress room?”

She stopped in her tracks, the small cart she was pushing was filled with an array of sweets and treats. She pointed towards the direction without a word and he smiled.

“Thank you!” He looked over at her and noticed the swirl of pink in her iris. “Woah, has anyone told you that your eyes look like rose petals?”

“No.” She hummed before walking past him with her cart.

“Oh… Well, thank you anyways.” He called after her before carrying on his way.

Blossom rolled her eyes. “Boys.”

Boomer finally found the door at the end of the hallway with a picture of a sewing needle engraved on the door. “Must be the one.” He said, before giving a swift knock.

He heard a voice call for him to come in and did just that.

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to be a bother but I ripped my jacket and needed it to be mended.”

A woman with long brown hair came over. She took the jacket and examined it, noting that the rip was quite large.

“Hmm.” She looked on the inside.

“Can you fix it?” He asked, now worried.

“I can’t but I know someone who can. Bubbles!” She shouted and he watched as a girl looked up from her station and their eyes locked.

Bubbles stood and made her way over. The moment her eyes locked to the man, she felt a blush instantly rise on her face. She was almost taken back by his charming smile and deep blue eyes. She had become lost in his eyes and almost forgotten what she was called over for.

“Bubbles?” Robin whispered and handed her the jacket.

She shook her head and returned to her senses as she looked at the rip.

“I can fix this, no worries.” She smiled and turned quickly to avoid his gaze. She suddenly felt very hot and light headed.

Boomer stood in his spot before realizing he was meant to follow her. Quickly, he caught up to her and watched in awe as she was almost done.

“So, how did you do this?” She asked.

“Oh uhh-I fell off a horse?” He lied.

“Fell off a horse?” She giggled. “Interesting.” She lifted the jacket before handing it to him.

He took the jacket and saw how the new seam was practically invisible, as if it had never ripped before. “Woah, you did that fast.”

“She's the best seamstress in the kingdom!” Robin shouted from across the room. “She also made the dress she's wearing.”

Boomer looked towards her and marveled at her dress. “It's pretty.”

“T-thank you.” She blushed.

They stood looking at each other with soft smiles before he looked at his feet then back to her. “I have to get going, but thank you so much, Miss Bubbles.”

“Oh, it was no trouble, just glad I could help.”

“I’m Boomer, by the way.” He took her hand and placed a kiss on it. “Your work is impeccable M’lady.” He said, before his cheeks turned red and he turned on his heel and hastily walked out the door.

A hush fell over the room as he left. A low whistle came from Robin’s lips as she looked at Bubbles with a smug look.

“I thought Blossom said not to fall in love?” She teased but Bubbles stood in place as if she was frozen and kept her eyes locked on the top of her hand where his lips had been moments before.

“Bubbles?” Robin asked her.

The blonde said nothing but grabbed her basket and headed towards the garden entrance. “I’ll be back.” She said quickly and left before Robin could protest.

“Oh, maybe she did fall in love.” Robin whispered to herself then shook her head. “No, that’s not it, right?” She said to the empty room.

♛♛♛

The cart filled with trays was placed out front of Princess’ private room, tucked far from the rest of the castle. Blossom took a deep breath before knocking a few times and entering with the cart.

“Princess Morebucks, your afternoon tea and treats.” Blossom said, as she started to place the many items onto the small table.

Princess sat at her mirror looking at her crown and placed it on the top of her head. The wild curls of copper puffed just at her shoulders.

“It's about time.” She complained and Blossom held in her scoff as she was used to the behavior of her, she had been here for a few years now.

Princess grabbed a tea cup and drank with as much poise as a badger, at least, that’s what Blossom thought.

“You know what’s funny, Blossom?” Princess said as she took a cookie from a silver platter.

“What?”

“Isn’t it just grand that all these men are traveling far and wide just for little old me?” She snickered.

“Oh, very grand.” Blossom said with no enthusiasm at all.

Another cookie was eaten. “It’s a shame Blossom, you really should be married by now. But instead, you flaunt around knowing how to read and write, it’s kinda annoying.”

“Well those are very useful skills to have, you should be grateful you possess them.”

“Could you fetch me those earrings?” Princess said, pointing towards her vanity.

Before Blossom could take a step, a finger snapped drawing her attention back to the princess.

“With your powers.”

Anger fested within Blossom as she held out her hand as commanded for the pink glow to rise. The ruby earrings became surrounded with the faint glow and soon floated up and over into Princess’s palms.

“There.” Blossom said with a bitter tone. She hated using her powers in general, a sad reminder of what she had lost and yet, Princess didn’t care. “Anything else, your majesty? Or may I take my leave?”

A dark chuckled came from her lips and Princess set her tea down. “Just one thing. You may not be seen during this time, nor Bubbles.”

“Excuse me?” Blossom challenged. “She’s a seamstress-”

“And there are others to take her place for now.” Princess cut her off.

“Why?”

“I don’t want you or your sisters encountering any of the men. Could you imagine the horrors if one of you lost your temper and they found out?”

Blossoms fists tightened at her side. “I can assure you that would never happen.”

“Your mother thought the same thing and yet…” Her voice trailed off as she looked innocently at her.

Blossom prided herself on keeping her temper at bay, but when it came to her family, that was much harder to control. “You know very well that bringing up my late parents isn’t very kind of you.”

A scoff came from Princess. “As if I care about being nice.”

“For the record Eliza.” Princess bristled at the use of her first name. “I am not jealous at the fact that men are paying to fight for your hand. I hope that one day you realize that love conquers the cost of affection.”

Princess didn’t bat an eye but instead yawned. “How enlightening, but that's where you lose Blossom. You’re foolish to think that in this world love can be more valuable than riches. Even with your beauty and brains, those powers are going to scare everyone off.”

“I-” Blossom tried to fight back, red in the face and her hands sparking bright pink.

“That’s why no one would ever love a poor orphan like you. Once people find out you and your sisters’ powers, you’re history. A true abomination, just like your mother.” Princess said before opening her door. “Now you may take your leave.”

The heavy door embellished with gold and jewels was slammed behind Blossom. She brought her hands to her face and wiped the start of her tears, trying not to let what she said get to her.

She took a deep breath and felt the tension in her palms from her magic. It was almost criminal that the princess would hold her magic against her, but nonetheless, she smoothed her skirt out before straightening her shoulders and walking away.

Her fists clenched at her side, diminishing the faint pink glow and she couldn’t stop from hearing Princess shrill voice over and over again.

“That’s why no one would ever love a poor orphan like you. Once people find out you and your sisters powers, you’re history. A true abomination, just like your mother.”

“And she calls herself a princess. Nothing short of a spoiled toddler.” She sneered to herself as she continued to walk aimlessly through the vast hallways. She found herself walking towards the library, one of the few places in the castle that didn’t feel foregin or made her feel like she had to walk on eggshells.

The grand doors opened and the smell of books filled her nose, providing her a sense of comfort she desperately craved. Thankful she was one of the only people who cared enough to enter this place, it was like a secret oasis that only she knew.

The vast library held rows upon rows of books, each one a different world for her to explore and she was only a small percentage of the way through. Her fingers laid on a shelf as she let them fall along the spines and feel the various textures. She mindlessly grabbed one and went towards the plush velvet chairs that sat beneath a set of tall windows letting herself get lost within the passage of words.

♛♛♛

Brick walked through the hallway set up for the suitors. He thought, with extreme confidence, that he was by far the best of the lot. He rolled his eyes towards a group of men who probably had money but nothing on his level. He didn’t have time for the foolish and meaningless chatter. He wasn’t here to make friends, maybe business partners, but his goal was clear.

The crown.

Of course he already had a kingdom of his own, but he wanted more. If he got the princess’s hand now, Boomer could take over their land and that just meant that the Jojo name would spread further and further, just like their late father wanted.

He never truly cared about who the princess was. This was about business, that was clear. When the invitations for the suitor competition came out, the only thing he’d learned about her was that she was beautiful with dark brown eyes and ginger hair. That was more than enough for him.

He took himself away from the other men and headed aimlessly about, just trying to find a quiet place to be alone. A large set of oak doors caught his attention and the scribe on the wall showed that this was indeed the library.

He doubted anyone else would be inside so he went in and closed the doors behind him. Without thinking, he grabbed a random book before seeing that there were many chairs placed around. As he came up towards the windows that went from the ceiling to the floor, he spotted a figure already in one of the chairs.

He approached the chair and noticed that it was a girl. His eyebrows furrowed as she was reading. There were not many women who knew how to read. She wore a soft pink dress and had a red ribbon tied up into her hair. Ginger hair. His eyes widened as he realized just who was sitting before him.

With a smirk, he stood in front of her and bowed.

“My apologies for interrupting, but it's an honor to meet you, your majesty.” Brick said.

The woman looked up at him. Her lips slightly parted and she had a look of confusion. He thought he was prepared to see the brown eyes from the description but instead he was met with a sensational and breathtaking view of pink.

“Your majesty?” Blossom said with shock.

♛♛♛

This was a monster to write and I hope you all enjoyed!!! this might be the only wipe's that I finish lol

[writerbyaccident]

Date Night: Part Three (Yandere ErasermicxReader)

Request: I just wanted to say that I love you Date Night Fics a lot! Will there be a part 3 of it? 😊😆😆❤️

Part One Part Two

           Night was falling quickly that evening, and most houses were blended easily into the darkness, their occupants out for a Valentine’s Day celebration. One house though, isolated and outside of the city proper, was alive with light and sound. Inside, two men worked diligently in the kitchen, the whole home filling with the tempting aroma of the dishes they were making.

           “Alright,” said Aizawa, “the chocolate-covered strawberries are in the freezer. What can I help you with?”

           “Well, the lamb still needs a little bit longer in the oven, you want to start putting the broccoli and rice into the dishes?” Hizashi answered as he peered into the oven.

           “Sure thing. Do you know if she’s left work yet?”

“Um, let me check,” Hizashi said, scrolling through his phone for the answer. “The tracker says she’s still at work, but she’s probably going to leave soon. And when she does, we’ll only have like twenty-five minutes before she gets home.”

“We can make it,” Aizawa said with a determined nod.

The next few minutes were pleasantly quiet as the sound of clattering dishes resounded throughout the kitchen, Aizawa moving the steaming sides to their bowls and covering them to ensure that they would still be warm by the time you came back home. He set them down gently on his and Hizashi’s round dining room table, being certain to make sure that they weren’t blocking the vase of pink magnolias and crimson roses that he and his boyfriend had so carefully chosen. The roses had been Aizawa’s idea, as he wanted a flower that would properly set the mood for this holiday dinner, and he found their deep, vibrant color a fitting representation of his feelings. Hizashi, by contrast, had chosen the magnolias, wanting to add something utterly unique and beautiful to match you. And together, he and Aizawa thought, the effect was breathtaking.

           When Aizawa reentered the kitchen, he saw Hizashi with his face practically pressed flat against the oven door. Smiling in amusement, Aizawa silently slunk up behind him, then suddenly darting forward to place a kiss on Hizashi’s neck. The blond jumped slightly at the unexpected touch, having been concentrating too hard to even hear his boyfriend’s approach, but soon melted in his arms.

           “You know,” Aizawa chuckled, “it’s not going to cook any faster if you stare at it.”

           “I know that. I just don’t want it to dry out, so I’m keeping an eye on it.”

           “I’m sure it’s going to be perfect,” Aizawa reassured him. At that, Hizashi turned to him, his eyes wide and anxious.

           “But what if it’s not?” Hizashi asked nervously. “What if we’ve done something wrong? What if she says no?” At the mere mention of that possibility, Aizawa’s stomach clenched and then spiraled downward, all the way down and past the kitchen floor. And even though Hizashi had already had the thought, actually saying it out loud had fishhooks piercing his heart and dragging it up to his throat. Seeing each other like that had both men squeezing the other tightly, just breathing for a moment until Aizawa finally spoke.

           “That’s not going to happen. We saved her. We’ve taken care of her for weeks now, protected her from Dabi and anyone else who would try to hurt her. We’ve shown her the love she really deserves. She can’t say no.”

           Hizashi sighed and gave a nervous grin.

           “You’re right, you’re always right, babe,” he said with a shaky nod. “I mean, really she’s already our sweetheart. We’re just making it official tonight.”

           It was true, both men thought to themselves. You were already theirs, they just needed to tell you that. So later that night, when the three of were finally sitting down to dinner, Aizawa and Hizashi forgot their worries in their lovesick excitement.

           “So how was work today?” Aizawa asked as he scooped some more rice onto your plate.

           “Oh, it was fine, just average,” you said with a tired smile.

           “I still can’t believe that they made you work on Valentine’s Day,” Hizashi muttered.

           “Well,” you laughed, “it’s not exactly a national holiday. And it’s not like I have a Valentine anyway.” At that, Aizawa flashed a stern look at his lover, warning him not to correct you just yet.

           “You haven’t seen any sign of Dabi, have you?” Aizawa asked, noting the way your eyes dimmed at your question. Now, he understood that everything that had happened was traumatic for you, but really, you should be glad that they had gotten that villain out of your life for you.

           “No, thankfully not,” you answered. “I don’t know if he actually cares enough about me to risk it.”

           “Well,” Aizawa said, “I’m glad he’s not mixing you up in his shit. You deserve so much better than that.” Hizashi nodded in agreement, and your cheeks heated at their concern. Really, these past few weeks had been so emotionally exhausting, you didn’t think you could have gotten through it without the two of them. They had opened up their home to you, had made you feel safe. They practically doted on you, providing everything that you could ever possibly want or need. And now—now they were even letting you intrude on their Valentine’s Day date. You hadn’t wanted to force yourself into their celebration, but they had insisted. In all honesty, Aizawa and Hizashi were probably the best friends you ever had.

           “Speaking of that though, I was thinking it’s about time for me to go home.”

           For a moment, Hizashi and Aizawa could only stare at you with disbelieving eyes.

           “What?” Hizashi finally responded with pure shock. “Why?”

           “It’s just that, well, it’s been weeks now. I haven’t seen the slightest sign of Dabi, and neither have either of you. I don’t think he’s going to try to contact me. And anyway, I feel bad about intruding into your home.”

           “You are not intruding!” Hizashi insisted as Aizawa took his hand.

           “Besides,” Aizawa added. “Dabi might just be waiting for you to leave.”

           “But—”

           “And we’d miss you!” Hizashi shouted over you.

           “I’d miss you guys too, but it’s not like we can’t see each other,” you reasoned. “We’d still be friends, right?”

           When you said that word—friend—Aizawa and Hizashi simultaneously squeezed each other’s hands tightly enough to make them go numb. Flashing a quick look towards each other, they made a silent lovers’ agreement.

           “But that’s the thing, sweetheart,” Aizawa started to say. “We don’t want to be your friends.”

           “What?”

           “We don’t want to be your friends,” Hizashi continued. “We want to be more than that with you. We love you.”

           Now it was your turn to be silent as their confession looped around and around in your mind. But with the two of them gazing at you so hopefully, it wasn’t long before you forced yourself to speak.

           “I—I’m sorry,” you began softly. “But I just can’t feel that way about anybody right now. What happened with Dabi, it—it really got to me, you saw how much it hurt me.”

           “We would never hurt you though,” Aizawa told you.

           “But I’m just not ready to be that vulnerable yet.”

           “Sure you are,” Aizawa said. “You have two men here who love you, who love you more than anyone else ever has. That’s all you need to be ready.”

           “I decide when I’m ready.”

           “Songbird, you’re just confused,” Hizashi said as Aizawa quietly slipped into the kitchen. “We know that this is a lot to take in, but taking this next step together is what’s right for all of us. We need to love you, and you need to let us.”

           “You’re not—”

           “Shouta and I can take care of you, we want to take care of you! You’ll never have to worry about anything again with us: not work, not bills, not villains, not anything! You would finally have the love that you deserve.”

           “I already said no,” you told as you began to stand from your chair. “I’m not going to say it again.”

           “And where are you going?” Aizawa suddenly asked from the dining room doorway.

           “I’m going to go back to my apartment and give you two a chance to cool down. Neither of you is making any sense.”

           “Really? Because you’re the one rejecting your soulmates.”

           “The two of you are not my soulmates.”

           “Of course we are,” Hizashi argued, tears beginning to fill his eyes at your stubbornness. When Aizawa spotted his boyfriend’s tears he frowned, extracting a syringe from his pocket and started to move towards you slowly and cautiously, the way one might with a spooked animal. As soon as you saw what he held in his hand, you tried to run for the door, only for Hizashi to immediately capture you in his arms. You writhed in his grip while Aizawa continued to approach you, and Hizashi nuzzled you comfortingly.

           “It’s alright, sweetheart,” Aizawa reassured you. “You’re just tired, you’re exhausted from work so you aren’t in your right mind.”

           “I told you that job was bad for you,” Hizashi grumbled into your neck.

           “Let me go!” you yelled. “Let me go or I swear—”

           “Ah, ah, songbird,” Hizashi lectured you as he held his hand over your mouth. “That’s no way to treat your lovers.”

           “Exactly,” Aizawa agreed. “So you’re going to have a little rest, and then hopefully in the morning you’ll realize just how foolishly you’ve been acting.”

           With that, Aizawa plunged the needle into your skin, both he and Hizashi ignoring your muffled pleas. The effects didn’t hit immediately, but soon enough you were melting into your captors’ arms, their touch the last thing you felt.

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[magicatnip]

Chapter 2: Part 1

Lyra woke in a much more businesslike frame of mind. The day before, she’d been tired. It had been a long walk only a day after she’d come ashore, and she’d slept poorly the past week or so on the sea. It was spring in these southern climes, and that meant squalls that were brief, but wild, and frequent. They turned the sea into a ride that felt like nothing so much as a carriage racing and jolting along, pulled by spooked horses running amok. Sometimes, during the day, Lyra welcomed the rainfall, the drops heavy and just a bit cool. They soothed her and washed the sweat from her brow. Lyra just gripped the wheel, closed her eyes, and surrendered herself to the sea’s heave and swell. But she did not get much sleep, as she could not abandon the wheel at such a time, or she was sure to go off-course. Carried by those powerful waves, who knew where she would end up? 

Lyra was glad to be on land. The deep sleep she’d gotten had been incredibly healing and refreshing. Her eyes were stilled closed, even as she gave a stretch and began to plan out the day. She could feel the sun resting on her arm, gentle and comforting. 

First, she would feed herself and do a form or two. After that, she would set out on her mission; the entire reason she had come to this out-of-the-place island, with little trading to speak of. She was to meet with the Enar, an obscure tribe purported to be unwelcoming of strangers and highly distrustful. She had an item that they would almost certainly want to trade for. In fact, she would be willing to bet good coin that they would pay dearly for it. Fortunately for them, there was only one thing she wanted in return: a name. Because she was a merchant at heart, she also had some of the items she thought that they might want or need most. She hoped that, in return, they might have some interesting wares to offer. 

Lyra finally sat up, opening her eyes. The sun streamed down in gauzy curtains, the silver tree-powder glinting here or there in the air. She took a bracing breath: pine, and some manner of morning-blooming flowers, evaporating dew, brushing her nose in an almost imperceptible mist. The air was chill, but warming quickly. Lyra stood. Her fire still danced, a living flower, a blooming violet. Lyra smiled. She never lost her wonder for her magic; for all magic. She bent to pick it up, grasping it in her fingers. It danced between her knuckles, setting the veins in her hand aglow. Beautiful. She let it go out. 

Her attention was drawn to the water below. It was dark and still, yet untouched by the newborn light. She could see the frozen sap, like dark rubies and carnelians nestled in the depths. She remembered the way the water had felt: charged, like a sun-warmed crystal. She hadn’t been able to bathe during that long week at sea; surely she’d earned another?

Lyra quickly stowed her sleeping gear. Everything else, she’d packed during the night, out of hard-learned habit. She was used to having to fight or flee quickly when danger threatened in the dark. 

Lyra shimmied down the tree, holding to her rope in case she made a slip, and alighted gently on the moss. It was delightfully springy. Lyra looked about her in wonder. Without a doubt, this was one of the most beautiful places she’d ever seen. She was surprised she’d never heard it before; surely some folk would desire to visit a forest of silver? 

Part of her balked at the idea. Would they respect the forest? She doubted it. 

Perhaps those on the island ensured it was a well-kept secret. She understood and was grateful. 

Lyra espied the source of the floral fragrance. It was much stronger now, heady, mysterious, and redolent of some dark fruit. Around the trunk of her tree were magenta-purple blossoms, similar to magnolias but with petals that looked like silk. The petals were wrapped around each other. They looked like strange, lovely, sleeping birds, or some exotic feathered-fruit. 

Dawdling again more than was her wont, she approached the flowers. Oh, they were gorgeous. She reached out and touched a luscious blossom, and it felt like the finest, softest velvet. To her surprise, a ruby-shine caught her eye in the gaps between the petals. Looking closer, she saw that they did indeed wrap around some manner of fruit. The smell was so delicious that she was tempted to sample it. She knew all about poisons, however. This could easily be a deadly plant. So after admiring it a moment longer, she left it, turning back to the river. It was time to bathe and get on her way. 

Within moments, she had cast her slept-in clothes off and slipped into the water, quick as a minnow. She floated a breath, and then extended her feet carefully to the pool floor. Her toes disturbed the amber, setting it rolling and bumping gently on the current. She ran her soap over her body, sudsed her hair, all the while keeping an eye for any unwanted visitor. 

Around her, a hall of tree trunks, gray needles hanging in dusky shadow while the new, silver-tipped growths shone brightly, catching the white-gold sunlight. The water lapped at her skin, so clear she could hardly feel, and she ducked her face under the water. It was marvelously rejuvenating, chilling her cheeks and nose. 

She opened her eyes to look at the sap: so many shapes, so many variations of color, gold, honey, amber, ruby, and blood. Some were smooth and as perfect skipping stones. Others were oval, like eggs. Others, jagged as if hewn from some great, precious rock. Some were tiny beads. Some looked like blown glass, shaped and cooled by the water amidst fluid motion. She thought, she could probably choose one. Even as she looked, another, and another plopped down from the tree above, slowly sinking through the water. 

Just as Lyra was about to pop her head up for air, she saw something that took her breath away.  Moon-bright white, amidst all that shadowed, gem-like color. A marble-sized drop of sap. It was egg-shaped, almost, but both ends were narrow. A perfect crystal. It looked like some manner of rare jewel. She reached for it. 

Sunlight was beginning to grace the water. She lifted her head, breathing deeply of the forest air, and examined her prize in the light. It was transparent; she could see amber in its depths, like a little fire, a heart. Faint rainbows danced across the surface, mesmerizing the eye. It was unbelievably beautiful. Something prowled in her memory. A gift? 

She would keep it. But she would leave something behind. Otherwise, she would feel like a thief. 

Lyra pulled herself from the water, grabbing the small towel she’d brought with her for immediate cover. Her hair hung wet. As she stepped onto the blue river-grass and soft moss, she looked again at the stone in her hand. Tying off her towel, she went to her bag and retrieved a knife. Without hesitation, she cut a lock of her hair. In the sun, it was almost as bloody-red as the sap. An acceptable offering, she hoped. She had always considered her hair a part of her spirit, as the sap was so clearly a part of the forest’s soul. It fragranced the very air and flavored the water. She lay the hair in a nook of the tree trunk, just above the water.

[teliangel]

The Circle Unending

So apparently it is Sad Hours in the LAOFT fandom, so now seems like a good time to post this. @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors​ has an on going afterlife discussion on their blog for the boys, and this is loosely based on several posts from that.

TWs: Main character death, what could be interpreted as depression/suicidal ideation, afterlifes, eldritch critters, what could be interpreted as suicide (it’s actually pretty peaceful but I wanna cover my bases), brief descriptions of violence

Enjoy!

Logan was tired.

He had been tired for some time now, and it only seemed to grow worse each day. It was in the height of summer, yet still it felt like winter to him. His movements had grown slow. It took hours each day to lever himself free from his bed. Often he found his thoughts drifting when he should have been paying attention in court. Not that he really needed to tune in all that often anymore. Linda was an adept ruler, and he was a more of a secondary figurehead to her now rather than a proper ruler.

He had managed as best as he could for as long as he could after Virgil had unraveled, but he had always been better at logistics and support rather than being an entire hierarchy unto himself. Still, he thought holding on a good three hundred odd years was commendable, all considered.

But he was tired. And lonely.

He loved Linda dearly, and all the friends he'd made in the court over the years, but their bonds really weren't the same as being married. Logan had been widowed three times now, and every mortal he had ever loved was long dead and buried, and he had had quite enough, thank you. But Logan was not an especially spontaneous person, and that had grown even more true in his old age. So he prepared, and planned, same as he had for centuries uncountable. Linda was informed of what was happening, and though she was understandably distraught, and far angrier than Logan would ever wish to make her, she came around slowly and helped him set up the court for a proper shift of regents. There would always be a bit of chaos among the fae whenever something consistent became uprooted, but he could only hope that with enough safeguards in place it would go much smoother and result in significantly less bloodshed than would occur otherwise. Then, with a kiss to Linda's cheek and many a tear filled hug from nymphs and sprites and pixies alike he was off.

Deep in the woods, deeper than humans could go and deeper than most fae wished to go,  there was once a witch hazel and a being called Mother that used to be called something else. She wasn't there any longer. Virgil hadn't wanted to talk about it when she’d disappeared and Logan had never pushed him for answers. Back then he couldn't really understand the connection his husband had with the seemingly incomprehensible entity. Now, though, he thought he understood just a bit better.

"Hello, Beloved. I've returned." He murmured as he slid down to sit on the ground beneath the witch hazel.

Near instantly a freezing fog rolled in, and the shadows in this already dark part of the woods deepened in a way that would have been concerning under other circumstances. There was the sensation of concern and curiosity being pushed at him, like slender, frigid fingers trailing along the inside of his skull. Talking to Virgil (who didn't quite seem to remember being Virgil most of the time) like this was always a bit of an odd experience. But Virgil-who-wasn't-exactly-Virgil-anymore never seemed to forget Logan, and he certainly didn't forget being Beloved. "Yes, I'm alright. There's no need to worry." Well, that was quite true. But he'd be alright very soon, and that seemed enough of a truth that he could force the words out. With a sigh Logan closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the old tree. The fog settled down around him like a particularly cold and abstract sort of embrace, and if he had the energy he might have shivered. He felt Virgil scratching at his brain again in a way that had long ago ceased to be unsettling, and he smiled a bit.

"You don't need to worry, truly. I'm simply . . . uncertain how to go about this.”

There was another push of curiosity and concern as the shadows gathered uncertainly at his feet.

"Hm, how do I explain?" He wondered as he watched the freezing shadows wrap their tendrils around his fingers and feet.

When Virgil had unraveled into the things he'd once been made of, his understanding of nearly everything had gone incredibly abstract. Even Logan himself had disassembled in Virgil's mind to flower blossoms and sunbeams, and it had taken Logan years to realize that those images were Virgil thinking of him. Now the imagery came in handy as he pushed at Virgil the thought of flowers wilting, each petal falling as the tree growing them withered. The shadows surged upwards, and  Logan fought to calm his heart-rate at the sudden onslaught of anxiety that wasn't his own. Quickly he tried to calm his once-husband by focusing on the mental image, showing the tree crumbling and falling to  the ground, only to decompose, making mulch and growing moss and fungi alike.

Not death, exactly. Ceasing to be something, only to become something else, something less concrete.

The fear eased into something more . . . hopeful?

Unbidden a thought formed in Logan's mind of a tree covered in blossoms Y̵̨̧͚͕̾̈́̉̈́ó̸̡̥̗̘̑̃u̷̹͗̄͘  surrounded by fog that wasn't broken even by the bright sunlight shinning through it M̷̢̜̙͕͕̊͘e̶͍̎͋  in a glade undisturbed by time or seasons T̵̲̮̲͍̉̓̅͠ͅô̴̢̖̤̱g̸̰͌̂ͅe̸̝̯̠͕͍̋̍̕t̷̺̲̗̩̑̎̎́ḧ̵̨͔̼̭͇́́̚e̶̢͖̥̣̺͐r̴̞͌͂́̎͝?

Logan felt himself grow choked up, breath catching in his lungs as he tried to contain a sob. 

That's correct. The two of us, together.

There was a thrilled sort of squealing not unlike someone slamming on their brakes so hard their tires slid across the road, and Logan laughed even though the sound made it feel a bit like someone had driven a knitting needle through his skull. The shadows settled down around around him, vibrating with excitement, and Logan settled back, feeling more peaceful than he had in centuries.

He wouldn't have been able to tell you how long it took, the unraveling. 

Afterwards he didn't really have the presence of mind to care.

Once, Roman had described to him the bond between a witch and their familiar, how it was more RomanandDizzy combined than two separate beings. Logan hadn't quite understood then, but he could now. 

Logan wasn't really Logan anymore, the same way Virgil wasn't properly Virgil any longer. But Virgil wasn't just Beloved now and Logan wasn't just Blossom either. They were more . . . the same but not. Separate yet not that either. Not Logan and not Virgil, but BelovedandBlossom instead. It was surprisingly comfortable, sharing a consciousness, and something that had been weighing them down was gone. With a new sense of tranquility they seeped into the heart of the forest, together.

In Wickhills there was about five hundred humans, about three times that in deer, and about five times that in other things. The humans had long ago gotten used to their fellow residents, and the Fair Folk had slowly grown to share the sentiment. But deep in the woods, deeper than most Fae wanted to go but that humans tended to find with a startling amount of ease, there was a clearing. In this clearing there was a magnolia tree, ever blooming no matter the season, that looked like it had been there since the world was first formed. Around its roots was an ever-present fog, cold enough to bite but never cold enough to hurt. 

It was a common place for the children of Wickhills to sneak off to when they were feeling daring, or were left unsupervised for too long. And maybe the shadows might steal a personal possession or two for a bit, and if you fell asleep there you might find yourself waking up lightly encased in roots as though the tree meant to keep you, but it was terribly hard to be frightened in the clearing so people still came back as if magnetized. And if you climbed up into the tree's branches, more often than not, you might hear the sound of knocking from inside the tree's partially hollow interior, and if you looked in you might be greeted by violet eyes so pale that they could nearly be silver.

But that doesn't exactly matter, does it?

The world existed before there was a Roman or a Patton or a Logan or a Virgil. It existed before there was a Wickhills. It existed before a single Good Neighbor was formed. It would continue on even after BlossomandBeloved were gone from memory, and the Magnolia tree was just a tree and the fog at its base was just fog. And that's just fine.

What better happy ending is there than impermanence?

[grumpyhedgehogs]

Lay Me to Rest in a Bed of Wildflowers

Summary: Various citizens give The Judge flowers. Dep realizes a few things.

Part One: Here Part Two: Here

Notes: This one was a long time in coming. I started work on it a week or so after the first part, had to split it in two, lost the draft, started a new one, found the old draft, stitched them into some Frankenstein’s monster, and spent another three days finishing and editing. At this point, if there are any grammar mistakes they’re just gonna have to stay there. But I had  a lot of fun finishing this trilogy and I hope you enjoy some angst/fluff/flowers! As always, spoilers for Far cry 5 and Far cry New Dawn, please do not read if you are not finished/mind being spoiled. 

P.S.: The titles of the trilogy refer to a trial, execution and funeral. 

~

”You remember the people here. They’re your friends, and you want to help them.”

~

Carmina

Carmina started with cherry blossoms. It was a cherry tree she so often found Dep leaning against- it was the farthest tree on the property, just on the edge between the ranch and the treeline. She knew it made her parents nervous whenever they saw Dep leaning against that old trunk, staring distractedly into the darkness of the forest. Hell, it scared Carmina plenty.

But Dep wouldn’t run now. Not after Carmina’s mother had asked them not to.

That didn’t mean they didn't think about it; Carmina could practically see it in the air around their head as they leaned against the trunk of the cherry tree, unheeding of the twigs and leaves getting caught in their hood. She could feel it, an aura around them when she got too close, needling at the skin.

When Dep got like this the whole house seemed to grind to a halt. She’d caught her father with his hand on the doorknob, frozen between rushing out and leaving them be. Her mother’s grip on the counter as she watched through the open window was white-knuckled and rigid. It was a storm brewing, demanding to be seen but too far away to be touched, too powerful to be warded off.

Carmina plucked a few blossoms from a low-hanging bough as she passed and held them to her nose, eyes never wavering from the dark figure. The tree rarely ever produced fruit these days; it was too old, too twisted, too broken by the bombs to do more than survive. Maybe that was why Dep liked it so much. They’d found a kindred spirit.

They were silent- so out of character!- as she stepped up beside them, but they accepted the flowers readily enough when she offered them.

“You should smell them,” she prompted but wasn’t too disappointed when they simply tilted their head at her. At least Dep wasn’t looking at the dark anymore. “They’re my favorite scent. Besides Mom’s cooking, I guess.”

Dep’s fingers played lightly over the petals for a moment, as if memorizing their texture. They held them back out doubtfully. Carmina smiled, fondness tugging at her chest, and folded the gloved fingers gently over the flowers. “Keep them. They’ll remind you of me.”

Cherry blossoms meant renewal. Carmina figured Dep already knew that.

She gave them lavender next.

Ever since her mother had pointed it out, Carmina couldn’t help but jerk awake every time she heard them creeping out at night. They never seemed to remember the floorboard to the right of the top stair creaked like something out of a haunted house.

She’d lay staring at the ceiling, wide-eyed yet unseeing, until the screen door’s hinges whined again in the early hours and cat-like footsteps crept back up the stairs. Only then did Carmina’s heart stop thumping so very hard against her ribs.

She dropped a sprig of lavender in their hands the next morning. “You’re keeping me up,” she told them, and refused to feel guilty about the slump of their shoulders. The bags under her eyes were heavy. “It helps sleep.” They also meant peace, but again, these were unneeded explanations.

The apple and orange blossoms she actually felt a little bad about, seeing as they could easily have turned to fruit. But- well. The Dep was a little more important.

“For peace,” she murmured when they looked up at her. The summery early evening was just beginning to chill, and Carmina could feel the tip of her nose numbing. The flowers in their yard were fragrant; Dep looked as at peace as she’d ever seen them. Not that that was saying much. “And family. Now come on, Mom’s let Dad break out the grill and I need you around to help put the fire out.”

Carmina didn’t have to look back to know they were just a step behind her the whole way.

~

Grace

Grace found them crouching in the dirt. They were not trying to be sneaky now- she could hear them crunching around in the drying, dead leaves of the late summer. The whole yard around what used to be John Seed’s ranch smelled of green and damp and growth; Grace suspected that just might be what Dep needed right about now.

(She had Nana help her with the flowers. The old woman was surprisingly patient, explaining every color, helping her with textures and structures and arrangement and Grace had never put this much thought into a bunch of dead plants in her entire life.)

It was quiet out in the yard except for the ambient noise of the wilderness. Dep liked birdsong; they used to go out in the early morning and sit on the porch of the Rye’s home, just waiting to hear which bird would be the first to wake. Grace would come around with coffee sometimes.

“Do you remember the birds, Dep?”

They stilled and Grace could hear their labored breathing.

(Kim, when she led Grace outside, had quietly explained the Deputy was trying to build a garden. “It’s the only time they’ve been calm out here,” Kim had confided and Grace’s throat had tightened at the strained tone in her voice.)

They must have been tilling the earth for the new seeds; Grace could smell the fresh soil. It was nice.

Leaves crunched underfoot as the Deputy stood slowly. Grace could almost see their shoulders, thin under such a large jacket (“Like a goddamn bear hide or some shit,” Nick had told her over the radio once, months ago now), tensing up somewhere near their ears. They never liked to be snuck up on.

“Do you remember the bluejays?” She asked, loud in the uneasy quiet. Grace’s ears were straining harder than ever, unseeing eyes darting from side to side; she felt them moving, unbidden, in her skull. But she wasn’t scared of anything but the Dep running. They were so very good at running.

“They were your favorite, Dep,” Grace said, something desperate and hot rising to the base of her throat at their silence. She had never hated the quiet so much as now. “You would point them out every time we hunted together- you- you liked when they were the first ones to sing in the morning.”

A noncommittal grunt. A foot shifting in the dirt. The crunch of dry twigs. Birds singing, branches clattering in a slight breeze. A soft exhale.

“I brought coffee but you preferred tea because caffeine made your hands shake when you held a bow,” Grace tried.

Footsteps padded towards her but stopped a few yards- too far, too far- away. She heard their breath hitch violently in their chest.

She couldn’t cry. She never cried, not even at the end of the goddamn world. “You liked jasmine tea because the flowers were pretty. We shared it. You taught me about the birds every morning.”

Nothing. The birds wouldn’t stop singing. She didn’t know whether that was such a good thing anymore.

Finally, heart in her mouth, Grace stepped forward and thrust out her fist. The flowers would be crushed at the stems, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Nana said you’d probably know what they mean,” Grace’s voice was too fast, too high, God she felt like an idiot. “But I think you need to hear it. So- so, edelweiss for courage and devotion, wallflower for faithfulness in adversity, hyssop for sacrifice, lemon balm for sympathy. And- and magnolia, for- for love of nature.”

She came forward again and again and again and held up her hands when she heard them shift back. Fumbling, Grace caught one thickly gloved hand in hers and wished desperately that she could touch skin, just for a moment. The heat at the back of her throat was spreading, pushing at her mouth, the backs of her eyes, lighting her scalp ablaze. Her legs were gelatinous.

She curled her old friend’s hand gently around the flowers and held their loose fist in both of hers. Grace wished that she could see, that they could talk, that none of this had happened.

“Maybe next you could teach me about the flowers,” she whispered hoarsely, and ignored the lump in her throat at the soft sob coming from somewhere in front of her.

~

Kim

Kim gave them a flower for each day they stayed.

The first one she made a production out of, giving it in the exact same way they left hers for her all those months ago. Dep seemed surprised to come in from their early morning wanderings (it never failed to give Kim a heart attack, seeing their bed empty and made up, crisp cool air where her friend was supposed to be warm and safe- Goddamn Joseph Seed better be rotting in Hell) and find a small bunch of pink and purple petals at their honorary place at the family table.

“Statice,” Kim told them, carefully not looking up from the eggs she was scrambling, “there’s a lot around here. For sympathy. And success.”

The next day, it was peach roses. “Those were a little harder to find,” Kim admitted. She didn’t particularly want to remember that dirty, cramped trek through the woods, or the cursing, or the thorns. “You’re supposed to give them to someone you miss.”

Dep had trembled at that. They’d left the table and were gone for most of the day, the screen door banging shut behind them; for hours, Kim had thought that was it, she’d fucked it all up. But in the end, the sun’s rays were scarcely fading when the Dep had stepped quietly into the kitchen and pressed an apologetic lily-of-the-valley in her palm. Kim kept still as they bowed their head.

“Yes,” she said finally, having to violently tamp down on the overwhelming urge to reach out. “You’re forgiven.Tell us you’re leaving next time.”

Freesia was next. “Thoughtfulness- I thought it was a good fit for you.”

Yellow roses- “Oh, you know you’re supposed to give them to friends. That was a pretty easy one.”

White tulips, which she placed in a box on their windowsill. “For the worthiness part, not the seeking forgiveness part,” Kim had had to justify quickly when the Dep’s head swiveled around as if looking for an exit, “You know you've got nothing to apologize for.”

But they didn’t know, and Kim knew they didn’t. Back to the drawing board.

“Dahlias,” Kim told them later, “they’re for lasting bonds.”

Finally she settled, comfortably, on sunflowers. Hell knew there were tons of them around the house.

“You like yellow, huh?” Kim ventured one day, unsure if the question would cause Dep to flip out. Instead, she got a moment of consideration and then a slow nod. They were a child, unsure if they were going to be granted approval or disappointment. The acid in Kim’s stomach roiled and she hoped the fire burning Joseph Seed’s soul was blistering.

Kim grinned. “Good. They’re supposed to mean happiness.”

She kept a vase of sunflowers on the table after that, and put another one in their dreary bedroom- she’d have to get Carmina’s help redecorating.

And if she had to plant even more sunflowers to keep up a steady flow, well, it’d be worth it when Dep finally took off that damn mask.

~

Hurk

“I didn’t, uh- I mean, I just kinda thought this was better than trying to rip up some weird flowers and accidentally poisoning you or something.”

Dep tilted their head the same as they’d always done- it was reassuring, almost, that the little things hadn’t changed. It at least gave Hurk the strength to keep going.

He hefted the flower pot between his palms and wished the leaves were long enough to obscure his hot face. “Gina said this was fucking stupid, but then she said maybe it’d help you cause she was thinkin’ you got fucked up, like really life-changing fucked up, and I mean, with Seed and all, and you runnin’ around in that mask maybe she was right, right?”

Dep’s mask did not look impressed. They shuffled back a few steps and looked like they were considering shutting the door on him. Somewhere in that house Kim Rye was thinking about throttling him.

“I’m talking too much,” Hurk stated. Dep did not disagree. Their fists were clenching and unclenching slowly at their sides; they were fighting to keep still. “Um. Sorry. Here.”

He shoved the flower pot into their hands unceremoniously. They fumbled, stumbled under the sudden weight, and finally got it secured against their chest. They huffed angrily at him when dirt spilled into their collar and Hurk was suddenly rethinking the whole ‘let’s-give-our-old-friend-who-is-now-a-little-crazy-a-bunch-of-plants’ idea. Carmina had a good heart but Hurk wondered if she thought more with that than her head.

The Deputy shifted the pot in their hands, looking down at it before jerking their head questioningly at him.

“It’s a fern,” Hurk explained helpfully.

They blinked. It was weird to see the mask with only one eye lens in it, but the eyes weren’t as disconcerting as the dried dirt and who knows what else smudging the white painted surface.

“I, uh, didn’t know anything about flowers, so I got you a fern,” Hurk repeated. He desperately wanted to slap himself in the face. “Like I said I didn’t want to poison you or anything. Knowing me, I’d find the only Bliss left around and end up naked and hogtied alone on the bank of a river somewhere. Uh, not that I’m speaking from experience or anything. But yeah, I thought this fern looked nice. I mean, it is a nice fern. Do you like ferns? Am I saying the word ‘fern’ too much? I feel like I’m saying ‘fern’ too much.”

The Deputy set the plant heavily on the floor between their feet. They tilted their head for a moment and slowly reached out to pet one of the fronds lightly. Then Dep backed up and crossed their arms over their chest tightly, like they were hugging themself. Hurk felt as if iron bands were squeezing his ribs.

“It means humility and uh- shelter. I think.”

Dep paused and then nodded. They held themself tighter. Hurk wished fiercely for this all to be a nightmare- couldn’t he just wake up and realize that none of this had ever happened and he was on his mom’s couch waiting for the Dep to come by and take him to fuck up some Peggies just for kicks?

But what was done was done, and all that was left of his friend was going to shatter apart if he didn’t give them this fucking fern.

“And confidence too, apparently. And like, sincerity. That part is about me, too. Cause, like, I’m sincerely your friend and shit.”

Dep’s head hung low; he couldn't tell if they were looking at the fern or not.

“Hey, Dep?” They shuddered. His voice was strained on the next words. “I, uh- I’m really glad you’re back man. Wasn’t the same without you.”

Silence.  He wasn't going to get anything else from them today. Heart like stone in his chest, Hurk turned and reached out to close the door behind him. At least he could tell Gina and Blade he’d tried.

A hand on the door stopped him from closing it. When Hurk turned around, Dep was standing only inches form him- it was always freaky how softly they could move.

Dep hesitated for a split second and then reached out to lay their hand lightly on his bicep. They patted a couple times and then stopped, seeming unsure of what to do next.

His vision blurry, Hurk reached up and closed his fingers around the other’s, movements slow and exaggerated. They blinked at him. He blinked back and ignored the wet warmth on his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he croaked, “I’m real glad you’re back.”

~

Jerome

“I once told you I didn’t know how to speak to you, old friend.”

Jerome came to a careful stop at the edge of the garden; he could sense a sacred space when he was near it, and this was the Deputy’s. The earth was freshly dug in furrows, and holes pockmarked the yard here and there, heralding in a season of new growth for next year.

He hadn’t known that Dep liked to plant vegetables as well, but Jerome could just spy a bag of what looked like pumpkin seeds sticking out of the basket Dep had by their side. A filthy trowel and a shucked pair of torn gloves lay beside them.

Dep looked up sharply at him before straightening (the lethality in that movement was all catlike grace and most likely completely unintentional) slowly. They dropped the last few seeds from their worn palm into the furrow and nudged a bit of dirt into place above them with a boot.

Jerome waited until he could see the glint of a single eye. “I told you our paths had diverged and that I could no longer think of what to say to you because of what you had done, what you had been through. And for that, Deputy, I can only sincerely apologize.”

Dep’s shoulders hitched upward by a fraction of an inch, but Jerome was watching too closely not to notice. They slid one foot back and ended up kicking their basket over. Jerome could see their hands starting to twist together, an old nervous tick he remembered stopping many a time with a calming palm on theirs.

His stomach flipped; it was almost a certainty that Dep would never let him do that now. Maybe never again.

Jerome sighed passed the tightness of his throat and raise a hand, palm out. “Please, let me finish. Please don’t let your past- what he made you think of yourself, perhaps what I helped reinforce through my thoughtlessness, get the best of you. Can I ask that of you, my friend?”

The Deputy visibly wavered for a moment; Jerome could feel his position here, fragile as the last fall leaves clinging to the branches, ready to be swept away at any second. His tongue felt as dry as the Sahara.

After quite possibly the longest pause of the pastor’s life, the person who had once turned out to be the most true friend he’d ever had nodded twice, quickly, as if they were pulling off a band-aid.

Jerome shifted on his feet. “May I-” He didn’t know quite how to finish, how to communicate the deep urge to reach out, the need to be close to someone he’d thought lost long ago, the wish to make sure this wasn’t some dream from which he would be ripped away at any second. The Deputy was sure to reject the confession, anyhow.

Instead, they beckoned with one hand, crossed their legs, and thumped down into the dirt unceremoniously.

Jerome suppressed the bizarre impulse to laugh. There was something softer about them now, surrounded as they were with flowers and gardening equipment. Their pale face- what passed for their face, anyway- tilted up at him expectantly; it reminded Jerome absurdly of a child waiting for storytime.  

Cautiously, wholly frightened of appearing aggressive, he took a seat across from them Indian-style. He abruptly found it hard to meet their eyes over the row of leaves of the freshly grown carrots between them. Instead, he dropped his gaze to the flowers in his lap. They seemed a meager offering now, no matter how much time he’d spent finding them.

“I brought you these,” Jerome told them hoarsely, lifting the bunch halfheartedly. The Deputy was tracking his movements intently, and tipped their head to the side briefly, that single eye blinking slowly at him. It made Jerome’s chest squeeze tight at the sight. This was what Nick meant about the Dep’s old habits shining through at the strangest times.

He held the first one out over the carrots, watching the petals bob and sway in the breeze. It was a moment before ungloved fingers curled tentatively over the stem just above his own. “Gerbera, for loyal love, innocence, and purity.”

There was a quiet exhale from his companion, but still Jerome refused to lift his eyes. “I should have tried harder to communicate with you; I should have known it was you from the start, or figured it out like Nick Rye did. But I think maybe I did know, or I wouldn’t have pushed the notion away so vehemently. I didn’t want to see what Joseph Seed had done to you- what he molded you into. I didn’t think I could take knowing what had been done to so true a heart.”

He passed two more flowers over. He had to wait a few moments before they were accepted. “Sweet William and sweet woodruff mean gallantry and humility. You- you were a hero to us, I hope you know that. You were a hero to me. And I- I wish I’d not turned away from you when you came out of that bunker. You needed us, and none of us realized it until it was almost too late. We left you to fight your demons on your own because you weren’t fighting our battles for us anymore, and you cannot understand- I cannot express to you the shame that brings me.”

Jerome was having a hard time speaking by now, vision blurred into a swirl of watery colors. He persevered, but not for his own sake. “Pink stargazer lily. I know it looks ostentatious, but it- it means honor, prosperity. Deputy-”

He tried to lift his head this time, made a herculean effort to withstand the grief threatening to drown him, but the current pulled him under and he could not meet their eyes. “The sacrifices you made before the bombs dropped, the torment you must have gone through for the sake of us, all to be rewarded with the time you spent under the ground with him- and to come back and help us, and then, to find the strength to fight back against Seed- the story of Job does you justice.”

Finally, the last flowers seemed small, insignificant, a tiny drop of water in the ocean of things he need to spill out to the Deputy, the things they deserved to hear for which Jerome had no words.

“Bachelor buttons,” He said tightly, breathing harsh. They were not accepted for a long moment and Jerome realized they might not ever be. But if this was the last thing he could say to a hurt friend, then by the Lord Almighty Himself, Jerome had better make it count. “For single blessedness. Whatever has been done to you, whatever Seed or I or anyone else has made you believe about yourself, whatever you think about who you are, know this, my friend. You have fought righteously, and you have stood in the way of harm that would have befallen innocents. You’ve withstood hell. Know that you are free now; know that in the eyes of your family and of the Lord you are not damned. You never were.”

There was a moment where Jerome was alone, choking on the silence, drowning in shame and blame and self-flagellation. The garden was still and time could very well have stopped.

And then the flower was pulled from his grip and replace with a hand. Fingers laced with his, and their bare knuckles dropped to rest together on the sun-warmed earth.

Jerome sat with an old friend submerged in a place of growth and life, and let the wind lift the weight from his shoulders, let the sun dry the tears on his face, let the earth turn on and on, inexorably turning away from the past. He hoped the Deputy was doing the same.

They stayed with him (he stayed with them) until the light faded from a friendly sky.

~

Sharky

This was worse than that time when he was fourteen and bought his crush a bunch of flowers to ask her to the Spring Formal. Okay, so he’d swiped them from the neighbor’s yard. Whatever. Point was, he was less nervous back then, when he’d been holding out the stupid flowers and staring her football player boyfriend in the eye, than he was right now.

The Dep’s hood was up like always, but the height of their shoulders and the way they were leaning as far back in their chair as they could told him enough to guess at their expression. He was sweating.

Kim, sitting at the table in her kitchen across from Dep, looked ten seconds away from throttling him. Sharky recognized that vein beating a tempo in her cheek. “Chives, Sharky? Really?”

“The, uh, the book said they mean, like, usefulness and stuff.”

Kim wrinkled her nose. “You busted into my house to tell Dep they’re useful?” Her tone was deliberately calm. Sharky’s heart was beating so fast it might have simply stopped. He didn’t waver from the Dep, though. He wasn't gonna give up his shot now.

“Hey, I know my best friend, all right? They like to be all helpful and useful to people and shit.”

Their shoulders were lowering centimeters at a time. They’d begun breathing again, having stopped when the door slammed against the wall. Nothing like a dramatic Boshaw entrance to get the blood pumping. The hood moved in their classic head tilt. Their fingers twitched against the worn wood of the table.

“There- there’s dill too,” he piped up helpfully, ignoring the urge to scrub at the back of his neck. Drops of sweat rolled into his facial hair. “Just cause, that book- we’ve only got like one fuckin’ book on flowers and plants and shit in the entire county, how fucked is that, huh?- uh, the book said dill means ‘powerful against evil,’ and I mean, that’s you all the way man, so I thought, you’re all flower power these days, maybe you’d like ‘em! I dunno, I guess I should speak your language and shit.”

There was a second of the loudest silence he’d ever heard. That usually didn’t bode well for Sharky.

Kim let out a long breath. “Sharky, I think maybe you should-”

The Dep’s chair scraped back so fast it tipped backward and landed upside down with a clatter. Kim jumped in her seat. The birds outside the windowsill took flight. The Dep’s glass of water was upturned.

Dep took two large steps over to Sharky and threw their arms around his middle. They squeezed too hard and Sharky wheezed for a second, but when they started to withdraw in alarm he planted a firm hand on their back.

“Oh hell no man, you’re good, you’re good.” They smelled like firewood and rich, healthy soil. At first they held themselves away from his body by a few inches until Sharky gently pressed down between their shoulder blades.

His friend almost collapsed boneless against him; Dep was shaking in his arms and Sharky felt the vicious need to dig Joseph Seed’s body out of his grave and set it on fire. Instead, he held very still and let Dep tentatively rest their head on his shoulder. The skin of their forehead was warmer than any fire he’d lit in months; the warmth seeped through the mask and into the cloth of his shirt, burning pleasantly there.

Their shoulders were trembling, although Sharky was unsure if they were actually crying. He tried not to let the plants get crushed by leaning the fist with them in it gently against the back of Dep’s head.

“I, uh.” He croaked, cleared his throat. Kim was frozen on the edge of his vision, hand over her mouth. “I’ve got coriander too; it means ‘hidden worth.’ I thought it was funny, cause like, you hide your face all the time and you're super cool? But, I couldn't find any coriander flowers. So I put coriander powder on everything.”

The Dep huffed against his flannel. Kim snorted.

“Wait til I tell Nick you got the first hug,” she told him, shaking her head ruefully. “He’s gonna be so pissed.”

Sharky grinned wildly.

~

Nick

Nick barely had time to realize that he’d grabbed the wrong wrench and would subsequently have to haul himself out from under the truck to go get the right one when it appeared in his field of vision as if by magic. A gloved hand was wrapped around the handle.

“Oh,” He said, suddenly realizing he’d forgotten how words worked. “Uh. Thanks.”

In the three months they’d been staying with the Ryes, Dep had had trouble staying in the same room as Nick. They still couldn’t look him in the eye. It made something dark and cloying claw at the base of his stomach most days.

The hand retreated and there was a shifting of fabric near his feet. Working mostly on memory and instinct, Nick continued to fiddle with whatever was jamming up the undercarriage of the truck, keeping most of his attention on the dark, dirt-covered boots he could barely make out beside him.

After a relatively companionable five minutes, he couldn’t stand the silence anymore. Nick found himself wishing for the days when Dep knew just the moment to crack a joke to ease his tension. Maybe that was selfish. Yeah, it was probably selfish.

“Hey, uh.” He cleared a suddenly clogged throat gruffly. “I uh, jumped on the bandwagon and got you something. They’re over by the tools, you probably saw them. Go grab them for me, would ya?”

The feet shuffled a bit before their body dropped down with a thump that jarred him badly enough that his knees jerked into the truck’s underside. Nick hissed a little but shook off the concerned noise Dep made. “Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it- happens all the time. You got ‘em?”

Two taps on his shin, and the skin there prickled under his jeans; they hadn’t wanted to look at him, much less touch any of the Ryes in so long...

They were sitting quietly beside the truck now, leaning against the passenger-side door. He could just barely spy the bright splash of color he’d worked so hard on in his periphery.

It must have taken weeks to get the canterbury bells alone. Nick had been afraid he’d do something stupid- spill oil on them or drop ‘em in the mud or something. It was a relief just knowing they’d gotten safely into Dep’s hands.

“Listen,” Nick paused when the wrench clanged loudly against metal. He stilled until the silence rushed back in.

There was a single tap on his leg to signify they heard him. This was the most they’d touched him since he’d tried to tackle them out of some misguided attempt at a peace-offering all those months ago.  “I know this is the part where I explain all the flowers to you, but I got something to say first, yeah?”

A moment of quiet. Nick tightened a lug nut and ignored how slippery the wrench had become in a matter of seconds. Two taps on his shin.

“Cool,” He replied, and had never felt this hot and agitated in his life. The car seemed to be bearing down on him, threatening to crush his lungs with its bulk. He focus instead on the hand tapping light patterns out on the concrete by his knees. “I ain’t gonna sugar coat this, buddy- Joseph Seed got you fucked up.”

A huffed breath and a light shove, barely enough to jostle him. In the old days, Nick might’ve grinned, wrapped an arm around their neck, ribbed them a little more. Now, his heart was beating too loud in his ears to even think straight. “I mean, there are probably better ways to say that, but it is what it is. And I just wanna say- I don’t care.”

Nick was struck with the acute desire to see what the Dep’s expression was at this moment, but it wasn’t like being out from under the car would help him much with that mask still in the way. He thought maybe the truck hiding his face was the reason Dep could even stand being so near him now- that night with the knife really messed them up. Seems like that blade did more harm to them than it ever did to Nick.

“Aw, I don’t mean it like- like that, you know I- I’m not any good at this, at talkin’. You knew that a long time ago, huh?” Nick was wheezing, just slightly. A hand squeezed lightly around his ankle, and he focused on centering his breathing for a moment.

“Thanks. But I mean it, I don’t care. I don’t care what he did to you, or who you think he made you be. I don’t care if you think you’re dangerous or evil, because you know what? You’re wrong. Seed was fucking wrong about you from the start, and he was wrong about you in the end, too. You didn’t start out evil and you’re not ending up evil either.”

The hand withdrew, and over the roaring in his head Nick could hear them stand. For a moment cold fear drenched him with the certainty that they would run; but all they did was begin pacing.

That was pretty much the best permission to continue he was gonna get. “I don’t care what happened because it doesn’t change who you are to me. It don’t change the fact I’m not gonna leave you alone in this- not ever again.”

He wasn’t seeing the undercarriage anymore, not really; in his mind’s eye, Nick could perfectly render the last time he’d seen their face, all sweaty and grave and ready to bring the fight to Seed if it was the last thing they did. In a way he guessed it was, at least for a while.

“You’re my family,” Nick told them simply. “Pretty much always have been. That ain’t ever gonna change, you hear me? Ever since you strolled in here with that stupid Deputy uniform and a smart-ass grin and told John Seed to go fuck himself, you’ve been one of mine. And I ain’t never gonna give up on one of mine.”

The pacing had stopped, and so had the wrench. It was time- he couldn’t put it off anymore. Feeling incredibly undignified and not really giving a shit, Nick rolled on his back to the edge of the truck and scuttled out from underneath it. It took him a bit of a struggle to get himself upright, back twinging in protest all the while. But he got it done.

The flowers lay carefully abandoned by the tools Nick had discarded earlier. Dep was a few feet away, wearing a furrow in his barn’s floor. When they heard him stand they stopped abruptly, back to him.  Their shoulders were hunched inward, trembling. They usually cut a pretty imposing figure without even meaning to; now they just looked small, like a kid playing dress up with their parents’ clothes. They were swamped in the black of their jacket.

Nick hated something about that coat on them- all dark and furred and too heavy. It reeked of corruption, or dominance, and he could just fucking bet it was gifted to them by none other than Joseph fucking Seed. But mostly, Nick hated it because it kept him from seeing his friend in there.

Quietly, careful not to disturb the fragile peace, Nick scooped up the flowers. “Canterbury bells, ‘faith, gratitude.’” He spoke passed the fear clawing its way up his throat, threatening to spill out from his lips. He could just see it, an oil slick down his chin and front, congealing and growing and obscuring his friend from his very eyes. But for every flower Nick took a step forward, surging passed that fear and swallowing it back in defiance.

Dep hadn’t moved.

“Queen Anne’s lace, ‘sanctuary.’ Tiger lilies, ‘happiness, prosperity.’” The last stem Nick offer to them over their shoulder. It was a second before they accepted it. He let his hand fall tentatively- softly so softly, they were like a newborn fawn, ready to bolt at any second- on their shoulder. The coat wrinkled slightly under his fingertips and the fabric almost physically repulsed him.

Instead, Nick gripped just a little tighter, to remind them he wasn’t going anywhere. His palm tingled- this was the first contact with Dep he’d had in- he didn’t know. Hell, for all Nick knew, he could wake up tomorrow and find they’d actually done it, they’d actually run off in the night. Every day he realized it could be the last contact he had with them.

The thought ate away at Nick.

He squeezed lightly again, cleared his throat and in a gravelly voice explained, “Lilac. It’s for family, and innocence. ‘Cause that’s what you are Dep. You’re innocent. And you’re family.”

He couldn’t seem to let go now. Their shoulder moved beneath Nick’s grip, but not quickly, not violently. The muscles shifted, bone creaked. They put their hands to their face, still holding tightly to the bloom he’d given them.

With a larger effort that Sisyphus ever exerted on his stone, Nick dropped his hand; his fingers grazed their hood on the way down. His gaze fell, and he wiped a hand over his own face; he was so very tired.

“So, uh, I guess that’s what I want you to know.” Nick told them, as confidence fled. He kept his hand over his eyes. “I don’t care what happened to you, I’m still with ya to the end of the line. And it’s- it’s okay if it takes a long time. I get it, if you can’t- be around us yet. Be around me yet. I know it’s- it’s gotta be fucking tough as shit. But you’re not alone. You've got me, however long you need, buddy.”

When his hand finally fell from his eyes, Nick was almost too tired to register the eyes looking back at him.

The pair of eyes looking back.

All breath shot out of Nick’s lungs but his body must have realized the importance of the moment, because his muscles locked up before he could ruin it by flailing. He stood, frozen like a deer in the headlights, feeling as if he suddenly acquired lockjaw.

Slowly, deliberately slowly, the Deputy lowered their hood; their hair was rough, and long, and matted as a rat’s nest; it badly needed a cut and it so dirty it could have been any color. Their face was streaked with grime, and pale from lack of sunlight, creating a resemblance to a raccoon around their eyes.

They looked tired.

Dep took hold of the hand Nick had placed on their shoulder and gentle pushed the mask into his palm.

“Fuck that.” Nick sputtered, hurling the mask to the ground. He didn’t even look down to see it shatter to pieces before he’d swept Dep into his arms.

His hand were clutching too tightly to that damn coat, he was leaning too close, probably suffocating them engulfed as they were by his hug, but Nick wouldn’t- goddamn couldn’t- let go.

“You have no fucking clue how good it is to see you again,” Nick told them, and meant it with his whole heart.

They huffed into his neck, hands coming up to hold on just as tightly.

Then the Deputy who had been still stiff, still scared- would that Nick could see the day Dep wasn’t scared anymore- the Deputy who had fought and died and been reborn for them, the Deputy who had run and hid from them, the Deputy who had refused for so long to see the family waiting for them to come back, settled carefully into his arms.

And the Deputy came home.

[snowflakeforestfelting]

Needle Felting Magnolia Flower Tutorial

[the-depressed-shiny-buneary]

Friends of the Main Cast: Magnolia Mitler

Magnolia is the second born child of Misty and Rudy. She harbors a love for Grass type Pokemon and as such will often be seen in a forest or in a grass patch where Grass type Pokemon are at. She’s more like her father, being a kind and considerate person who is also very down to earth and friendly. Like her father, she loves dancing and teaches her Pokemon how they can dance in their own way. While she’s not interested in partaking in Showcases, at least not majorly, she does enjoy watching them and would rather perform freely rather than in front of a crowd. She met the main cast the same way her brother met them, she really likes hanging out with Ashley and Salvia and they three of them enjoy their girl time.

Her main colors are green, blue and purple. Basically the cool colors as oppose to her brother’s warm colors. Green represents how she’s balances and always growing as a person, it also represents how she’s the listener and the counselor of her friend group. Green promotes her love of nature, hence her love of Grass types and how she spends most of her time gardening and her hostess skills that come naturally. She’s also generous and will give things like berries or flowers to other people or wild Pokemon. Blue represents how she’s trustworthy and how she’s always calm and collected even in stressful situations, as well as how she’s helpful and is still a giver and very loyal to her Pokemon and her friends, however she can be unforgiving if someone were to betray her trust and she’s able to keep everything around her orderly. From purple, she’s creative as she’s often creating floral arrangements and food art from her flowers and berries. She also has a love for fantasy and will often read fairy tales at night simply because she enjoys it, she also likes being an individual and doesn’t like copying anything from others which is one reason why she didn’t want to be a Water type trainer like her mom.

Shiny Bellossom- Magnolia was pulling weeds from her garden one day and she had pulled on an Oddish, mistaking her for a weed. She was very surprised to see that the Oddish she pulled out had a green body and yellow green leafs, making her realize she had accidentally found a shiny Pokemon. Oddish was understandably scared of what would happen but Magnolia reassured her that she wasn’t going to harm her and offered to have her stay around and help her garden. The shiny Oddish agreed and stayed by Magnolia, soon a Friend Ball fell from Magnolia’s bag and Oddish happily allowed herself to get caught. After being with Magnolia for a while, she had evolved into a Gloom and soon found a Sun stone to evolve into a shiny Bellossom. As a Gloom, Bellossom was self conscious not only about how she looked but also how she smelled and tried her best not to release her foul smelling odor when near Magnolia or anyone else for that matter, when given the chance to evolve into a Bellossom she took it once she saw the Sun Stone in Magnolia’s hand. Now as a Bellossom she does her best to help Magnolia with gardening as well as dancing to cheer up her trainer, she’s a very kind and thoughtful Pokemon that loves to do her best for others.

Caught in a Friend ball. 

Ability is Healer.

Moves are Sunny Day, Moonlight, Moonblast, Grassy Terrain, Natural Gift, Giga Drain, Petal Dance, Teeter Dance, Petal Blizzard and Quiver Dance.

Ludicolo- Magnolia found Ludicolo when he was a Lotad. He was using Rain Dance to make little clouds appear over her garden so Magnolia would have more time to do other things than garden. She was thankful to Lotad and would pat his lilypad, which made him blush in embarrassment. He soon joined her team, proving to be a big help and he evolved into Lombre and then evolving again once he got a Water Stone. As a Lotad, he was shy, nervous and easily embarrassed, often blushing whenever he got praised or thanked by Magnolia. As a Lombre, he got a little depressed for some reason and wouldn’t smile or do anything aside from sleep and eat. Once he evolved into Ludicolo he cheered back up and started dancing happily whenever he could and whenever he felt like it. He loves to dance with Bellossom and helping out with the garden.

Caught in a Lure Ball.

Ability is Rain Dish.

Moves are Rain Dance, Zen Headbutt, Giga Drain, Nature Power, Hydro Pump, Fire Punch, Ice Beam, Energy Ball, Swagger and Water Pulse. 

Cacnea- Magnolia found Cacnea playing alone nearby and was wondering why he was doing so. So she went over to him and gave him some treats to snack on. Cacnea enjoyed the treats and thanked Magnolia by giving her a hug, which hurt her a lot due to Cacnea’s needles. After that, he would drop by Magnolia’s garden to see her and even help out with gardening. Not long later Magnolia offered to let Cacnea join the team and he agreed by giving her a hug, much to her pain. Cacnea is a friendly Pokemon and always wants to help his trainer anytime he can. He’s also affectionate and will always want to hug his trainer or friends of his trainer, so everyone pretty much needs to either dodge or catch Cacnea before get hugged by him, he also seems oblivious to the fact he’s causing them pain by hugging them. He’s still a nice Pokemon and will do anything to protect both Magnolia and her garden.

Caught in a Love Ball.

Ability is Water Absorb.

Moves are Needle Arm, Leech Seed, Drain Punch, Thunder Punch, Seed Bomb, Dark Pulse, Giga Drain, Mega Punch, Bullet Seed and Nature Power.

Pumpkaboo (Super Size)- Magnolia was in the forest with her Pokemon and they were all dancing together. At some point she tripped on something on the ground middance and a Pumpkaboo popped out the ground staring at them. Magnolia apologized for tripping over the Pumpkaboo and offered a berry to her. She accepted and ate the berry before she started watching Magnolia go back to dancing with her Pokemon. Pumpkaboo soon started to join in while laughing as she did, then she asked to join the team and Magnolia agreed. Pumpkaboo isn’t a mischievous Pokemon, she’s kind and always wants to help around. Despite the fact she doesn’t like using tricks to get what she wants or for fun, she does it simply if someone were to insult her trainer for what she does during the day and even then it’s more of a jump scare or a scare at night in their house. She has a habit of picking things up and giving them to her trainer.

Caught in a Dusk Ball.

Ability is Pick Up.

Moves are Bullet Seed, Leech Seed, Shadow Sneak, Razor Leaf, Seed Bomb, Protect, Rock Slide, Psychic, Light Screen and Charge Beam.

Tropius- Magnolia met Tropius by a complete accident. She was tired and burned out from dancing and sat under what she thought was a tree to cool down, the Tropius above her saw how she looked and started to flap his wings to cool her down. Magnolia thought nothing of it and enjoyed the cool breeze, smiling, the Tropius picks one of his bananas and gives one to Magnolia. She once again, thought nothing of it and ate the very sweet banana. Once she finished it, she then realized that she was sitting under a Tropius and she was about to apologize for bothering him when he told her don’t worry about it. He was a lonely Pokemon and was happy to help her out when she needed it. Soon she caught him after he asked. Tropius is an easy going Pokemon, not much really bothers him and he just goes with the flow most of the time. He provides Magnolia with some shade, a cool breeze and some fruit while she works in the garden. While he might be a calm Pokemon to some, he’s still going to battle if someone were to attack his trainer or if Magnolia calls him out to battle.

Caught in a Nest Ball.

Ability is Chlorophyll.

Moves are Leaf Tornado, Natural Gift, Air Slash, Sunny Day, Synthesis, Aerial Ace, Earthquake, Solar Beam, Leaf Storm and Dragon Pulse.

Trevenant- Magnolia was lost in a forest one day and she didn’t know which way to go to get out. That’s when a Trevenant approached her, at first she was scared as Trevenant are known to devour anyone who destroys a forest, but the Trevenant just gestured her to follow him before walking off. Magnolia quickly followed him and she was lead to the exit of the forest, she turned to thank the Trevenant but he was already gone so she left him some berries to eat in case he was hungry and walked off. Not long after that the Trevenant came to her and gave her a Lasat berry which was the berry she was looking for. She asked Trevenant if he wanted to join the team and he agreed. Trevenant is surprisingly nice Pokemon despite his looks, he doesn’t say much to anyone but he’s very protective over Magnolia and her garden and will use his ability to create vines to block anyone from harming his trainer.

Caught in a Dusk Ball.

Ability is Natural Cure.

Moves are Shadow Claw, Confuse Ray, Phantom Force, Horn Leech, Rock Slide, X-Scissor, Trick Room, Calm Mind, Grass Knot and Shadow Ball.

[malodorousmalcontent]

SIXTEEN92 REVIEW

Another older Sixteen92 review - this one of Shadow Show; Fall of the House of Usher; Bruise Violet; Southern Gothic; and Black Sugar.

SHADOW SHOW (PERFUME OIL)

NOTES: Kettle corn, spun sugar, apple, machine oil, rusty metal, dirt.

Oh man.

Oh, golly.

This is the one.

I love this smell. I'd read about people having 'holy grail scents', but nothing from my first order really hit me quite that hard, but this. This is that. It was love from the second I opened its lil' vial. Oh boy. Ohhh, geeze.

In the bottle it smells mostly like the kettle corn and spun sugar. The kettle corn's got that warm starchy, well. Kettle-corn smell, with just a hint of butteriness, far from overpowering or nauseating like I feared it might be. There's also the spun sugar, which is bright and gives a friendly sweetness to that kettle corn.

On the skin it's just UGH. IT'S. IT'S SO GOOD, SOB.

Of course because i'm me I put this on the minute I got those bottles, before it had a chance to settle, and it smelled just as good but in a different way: all that sweetness vanished, and the machine oil with just a bit of dirt appeared, leaving a scent that was like a bright, smooth... Almost clay. I keep thinking clay, the way the machine oil and kettle corn interact. It smelled wonderfully earthy in a weird way.

After a week, the sweetness now stays on my skin, so I get the brightness that's in the bottle as well as the smoothness of the machine oil, eventually drying down to that subtle not-sweet clay smell. This smells like a fairy's carnival that will only exist until dawn on a cold autumn night.

The only downside to this perfume is that it doesn't stay super long before fading down to a subtle smoothness, maybe an hour or two, and it stays pretty damn close to the skin - I don't think i've ever just caught whiffs of it without huffing at my wrists, even when i'm wearing a lot. But, see, here's the thing: it smells so good that I don't care about this.

8/5, i'll be fullsizing the H E L L out of this.

--

FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER (PERFUME OIL)

NOTES: Pine and fir needle, frozen hemlock, amyris, sweet myrrh, shadowed stone, precious woods.

I... Don't have a lot to say about this one! Which I feel sort of bad about after writing a veritable novel on Shadow Show, but like. This is fine! It's a pretty decent smell, it's just been pretty viciously overshadowed. RIP, the rest of my order.

I've only worn this one once and it was pretty darn good. It's pretty airy and atmospheric, like a walk in a cold forest after rain at like, 2 PM, with a bit of perfumeyness that just turns to a lovely, elegant sweetness on the skin. It's spooky, but in a good, almost realistic way. My SO - who has a very sensitive nose and thus does not like most perfumes - smelled it and said that this one was good by him. Instead of smelling overpowering, it smelled like 'one flower'.

It fades down to a lingering freshness pretty fast, and i'll be honest, I can't remember how much of a throw it had. ...I'm really living in Shadow Show land right now.

3/5, solidly middle of the road for me. It's a totally fine and nice scent, but nothing that really gets me goin.

--

BRUISE VIOLET (PERFUME OIL)

NOTES: Red lipstick accord, dusting powder, white iris, violet leaf, Damascus & Bulgarian rose, red grapefruit zest.

Jeeze, this one's an award-winner for a reason.

Literally the first scent I opened up n tried on (which I scrubbed 20 minutes later to try on..... Shadow Show. Sob.) and those 20 minutes were fuckin' awesome. This perfume is named for a song inspired by Courtney Love, and if there was ever gonna be a scent that makes me think of her, this would be it. This is a conceptual perfume, so i'll give it a conceptual description: this smells like red lipstick, thick black eyeshadow, daisy dukes, torn fishnets, combat boots, and a baseball bat with nails in it. This smells like sleazy punk, in the best way. I love this.

A less conceptual description: this smells vintage, sweet and kinda elegant, the dusting powder is definitely noticeable but it's not a bad powder note, it just gives it that age... And then it's got this zing  of grapefruit on top of it, shooting through it like neon lightning. It's got incredible throw - even the smallest amount of it i'll constantly catch whiffs of. Unfortunately, I haven't worn it enough to know how long it lasts, but... Like, this is an award-winning perfume. My guess is it's gonna be good.

I have characters who smell like this, it's so... It's vivid.

5/5. Considering fullsizing.

--

SOUTHERN GOTHIC (PERFUME OIL)

NOTES: Mandarin Orange, Apple, Coconut Pulp, Southern Magnolia, Jasmine Sambac, Balsam, White Sandalwood.

I was already a little iffy about this one - it's more 'Southern Belle' than 'Southern Gothic' - but as a tried and true southerner I felt like I kinda had to give it a shot, and i'd read some good reviews on it. One said it dried down to the smell of drinking coconut milk in a jasmine bush, which sounded delightful. Others say it smelled like sweet tea before drying down to a heady floral. These are all things I like! So, sure!

Tums.

This motherfucker smells like straight tums. Chalky sweet tums. Even in the bottle: tums.

I decided to give it a week, to see if it stopped smelling like tums.

It still smells like tums. I cannot get to the dry-down, because that tums smell is absolutely killing me. I am biased, because I absolutely hate tums. Maybe someone out there is gaga for tums, and if that's the case, this is the perfume for them.

I... Will maybe try this again in a month. See if it settles even more. But for right now? 1/5.

--

BLACK SUGAR (PERFUME OIL)

NOTES: Brown Sugar, Red Berries, Caramel, Vanilla, Tonka Bean, Dirt, Cauldron Smoke, Cocao Absolute.

This smells like happiness. I don't know how else to describe it really. Looking at the notes, I don't know how it ended up smelling the way it did - maybe it's the brown sugar and red berries really comin' out hard - but this smells like mouth-watering, bright, candy-like happiness.

Once again, it's a gourmand that is not overpowering or nauseating - which, I mean, I figure is to be expected with a professionally made perfume, but I worked in homelines at walmart for two years and learned to fear any foody-smelling candle, as they tended to make me super nauseous. This just smells... Fruity, and bright, and the brown sugar gives it that candy-like quality, but then there's the dirt note that kinda balances it out and gives it a hardness underneath. It's really nice. It's like - you know Inside Out? Happiness? This is what she'd smell like. This stays on you for a pretty long time, too, but I can't recall it having much of a throw.

4/5. I don't know if i'll full-size this, but if I do - or if anyone's interested in picking this up - best to do it soon. It's leaving S92's general catalogue pretty soon due to lack of ingredient availability.

[ireviewuread]

Gobdigoun Skincare products Review | Sponsored

Gobdigoun Products Part 1

Korean Skincare review time! In this post, we’ll touch on Gobdigoun skincare, a high quality skincare line. Since there’s so many goodies, I’m going to break the post into 2. Part 1 (this post) touches on Gobdigoun skincare. Part 2 (linked at the bottom of this post) touches on Gobdigoun masks. Now presenting which products I will touch on in this post.

Gobdigoun Skincare:

Aging Corrector Skin Milk Conditioner - Goat’s Milk Series

Aging Corrector Skin Milk Facial Lotion - Goat’s Milk Series

Placenta Power Aging Corrector Eye Cream 

24K Golden Cream Placenta Power

Flowers seen in the post are from A Better Florist. You can check out my review of their flower arrangement session here.

Who is Gobdigoun? | Background

Originated from Korea, Beautiplex, LG Household & Health Care shop created Gobdigoun in 2010.  It is a high-end cosmetic and skincare brand. As compared to other brands, Gobdigoun provides high quality Korean skincare products. Some of them includes 24K Golden Cream of Placenta Power and Placenta Cellulose Gel Mask. These products are also the best sellings products in China, Taiwan and Japan's market. 

You can find their products in Myeong-dong, Seoul, South Korea, in LG Brand Skin Care Product Store. 

Goat’s Milk Series

First off, we will touch on their newest line, the Goat’s milk series. The star ingredient in the series is goats milk for, it resembles human’s breast milk. It is also a natural moisturizer for the skin as it have a similar pH as the human skin. This allow the product to have a quick absorbent rate. The goat’s milk were extracted from New Zealand and processed in Korea.

The Goat’s milk series includes: 

Aging Corrector Skin Milk Conditioner

Aging Corrector Skin Milk Facial Lotion 

Goat Milk First Step Tinted Tone-up Cream

For this post we will only be reviewing the conditioner and facial lotion. 

First off all, I would like to comment on the boxes that contains the products. I was impressed and drawn in to the intricate designs on them. I like how it have a white based with shiny gold patterns. It does remind me of a divine upper-class building that one admires. Even words can’t describe how beautiful they are. I felt lucky just holding them.

Meticulously, I removed the products from their boxes. Out pop 2 shiny plastic bottles. With a design similar to the the boxes, the products looked like they were made for royalty. Enough of me verbally molesting the products, it’s time to review them.

As seen in this image, the conditioner should be the first point of contact then the facial lotion. Finally, I will be replacing the tone up cream with the 24K Golden Cream Placenta Power. On top of that I will be using Placenta Power Aging Corrector Eye Cream too.

Step 1: Aging Corrector Skin Milk Conditioner

The first step after cleansing would be the Aging Corrector Skin Milk Conditioner. 

The aging corrector skin milk conditioner helps to whiten and moisturise one’s skin. It contains natural ingredients such as goats milk ceramide and milk protein extract. These ingredients allows the product to be easily absorbed into the skin. They also help soften the dermal condition. Furthermore, the other ingredients helps to brighten one’s skin:

Niacinamide

Vitamin-C

Lily of the valley

Lily Magnolia flower

The 7 Skin Method

It was recommended to me that the 7 skin method should be used for the Skin Milk conditioner. If you’re wondering what is the 7 skin method, it’s the latest Korean skin care method. This method requires you to layer your toner 2, 4 or 7 times on your face depending on your skin type. This helps your skin be firm and gives it a glow as well.

In this routine, the Aging Corrector Skin Milk Conditioner is being used as the toner aspect. Since I have an oily T-zone and a Dry U-zone, I applied 2 layers on my T-zone and 4-7 layers on my U-zone. Pat each layer into the skin. It is advisable NOT to let the layers dry in between for maximum hydration effects. After you’re done, gently press the layers into the skin. 

The Verdict: Aging Corrector Skin Milk Conditioner 

Time for the verdict! Upon first whiff, the conditioner have a musky flower smell. A scent that I favor. A commendable characteristic would be the quick absorption rate of the conditioner. After absorption, my skin was not sticky at all. In fact it even felt matte.

Aside from the scent there was a cooling sensation upon application to. The cooling sensation lingered on my skin, allowing my skin to stay hydrated for longer. Besides that, my complexion did become whiter after consistent usage. It was so effective that even my mother noticed it - and my mother don’t notice such things.

My thoughts on the 7 skin step method

For a few days, I tried to use the 7 skin step method. I find that although it is time consuming, there was a significant difference in my skin. My skin did feel firmer and bouncier. The routine helped with maximum hydration. On one of the blogs, I read that one could put this and not put on any other skincare. Be that as it may, that method is not applicable in Singapore due to Singapore’s humidity. Thus it is recommended that one uses a moisturizer after the 7 skin method .

All in all I would give Gobdigoun’s Aging Corrector Skin Milk Conditioner 5 IreviewUread smiles. Not only does it have a beautiful musky floral scent, it also does what it claims. It’s hydrating, quick to absorb and whiten one’s skin. One of the most effective products I’ve used and incorporated into my daily skincare routine.

Step 2: Aging Corrector Skin Milk Facial Lotion

Next we move on to the Aging Corrector Skin Milk Facial Lotion.

The Facial lotion aims to balance the skin’s oil. By that, it means allowing the face to not feel oily and not feel so dry at the same time. Like what Goldilocks said, “It’s just nice.” Furthermore, it aims to provide moisture and whiten the face. 

Aging Corrector Skin Milk Facial Lotion Ingredients

Argan oil - Contains Oleic aid and Vitamin

Avocado oil - plenty of essence to boost the balance between skin oil and moisture

Goats milk extract - maintains elasticity and glow

Niacinamide, Vitamin C and White flower comlex extract* - helps with whitening

*White flower comlex extract is extracted from Peony flower, lily of the valley flower and lily magnolia flower

The Verdict: Aging Corrector Skin Milk Facial Lotion

Using a pump disposal method, the facial lotion was easily dispensed. What’s interesting is that even though the lotion was in a liquid state, it was not watery at all. In fact have the texture of an oiless lotion when spread. It feels soft and refreshing when applied. The scent of the lotion and the conditioner were similar with a slight difference. The lotion smell sweeter. This could be because of the avocado oil and olive oil in the lotion. 

Alike the conditioner, there was a quick absorption rate with no sticky after effect. Per contra, the lotion did leave my skin to feel slightly creamy after absorption. After incorporating the facial lotion my dry U-zone did feel more moisturized. Whereas my oily T-zone felt the same. Alongside with the conditioner, the facial lotion helps to whiten and moisturize the skin.

En masse, I would give Gobdigoun’s Aging Corrector Skin Milk Facial Lotion 5 IreviewUread smiles. It have a sweet floral smell and feels refreshing when applied. It was also rather easy to spread and absorbed. Aside from moisturising, it helped whiten the skin too. Whereas it did a decent job in balancing one’s skin oil and moisture too. 

Step 3: Placenta Power Aging Corrector Eye Cream

Next, we’re moving away from the Goat’s milk series to the Placenta Power line.  The Placenta Power Series provides the nutritious placenta protein. The protein was refined from Australian ovine (sheep) placenta that is very beneficial to the skin. 

The first placenta power product that we’re touching on is the aging corrector eye cream.  

The Placenta Power Aging Corrector Eye Cream is more than an eye cream. It helps to diminish any wrinkles on your face. Ranging from forehead lines, crow’s feet, tear troughs, neck lines and smiles lines. They even reduces mouth frowns and eye bags too.    

The Verdict - Placenta Power Aging Corrector Eye Cream

First off all, we’ll touch on the packaging. I like how it have a very unique packaging. Aside from the divine box it comes with, it was also packaged in a syringe. On top of that, it works as a syringe too. All one have to do is:

Unlock the handle by rotating the gold handle towards the ‘open’. There will be a click sound to signal that it is opened. 

Slowly press down as the product ooze out from the syringe ‘needle’.

Although it is not as travel friendly, one could not deny that it is a very cool design. These are the kind of products that compel me to look forward to my skincare regime. 

To open, rotate the gold handle toward the ‘open’ arrow until you hear a ‘click’. Likewise, to close, rotate the other way until you hear another ‘click’.

It have a herbal plant scent that makes your feel like you’re in a lush field filled with herbs. It’s not the kind of scent that makes you gross out but more of the kind of scent that soothes your soul. Something like what a lavender will do. The texture of the eye cream is rather thick and it have an instantaneous absorbent rate. It also felt moisturizing and protective.

After using for almost 3 weeks, I noticed how my eye bags have been reduced to some extent. Although they are still hoarding the area, some differences was spotted. On top of that, I did noticed my crows feet were not as obvious as before. I have not tested on any other area aside from my eye area.

In sum, I would give Gobdigoun’s Placenta Power Aging Corrector Eye Cream 4 IreviewUread smiles. I like how it have a quick absorbent rate and smells like a field of herbs. It is also moisturizing and slightly reduces one’s eye bags and crow’s feet. Plus, it works on reducing wrinkles on other areas of your skin as well. On the other hand, although it have a unique and fun design, the design is not as travel friendly. With that said, I still look forward to my daily rejuvenation ‘injection’.

Step 4: 24K Golden Cream Placenta Power

The final product that we’re going to review is the 24K Golden Cream Placenta Power. It is also one of the best selling products in China, Taiwan and Japan's market. Aside from gold, one of the key ingredients in the golden cream is ovine (sheep) placenta protein.

Ovine Placenta Protein is natural ingredient from Australia. It’s molecular structure and necleic acids are similar to that of human. This enhances the level of immunity. It is dermatologist tested for it helps the skin to recover naturally and prevent rapid aging. Likewise, it produces a detox effect. All these pointers resulted in dermal relief and product reliability. Plus, with 47% Centella Asiatica extract, the skin would be so moist.

24K Golden Cream Placenta Power Ingredients

Centella Asiatica Extract 47% - Skin protection

Placental Protein 30mg - Skin Nutrition 

Cetearyl Livate - PEG Free Emulsifier from olive oil

Sorbitan Olivate - PEG Free Emulsifier from olive oil

Aloe Barbadensis Leaf Extract - Skin moisturizing 

Niacinamide - Skin whitening 

Ceramide NP - Skin moisturizing aid 

Shea Butter - Vegetable butter extract or karite fruit

Gold 12mg - Skin relaxating aid

Turn to open the bottle

Next, we touch on the packaging. It have reflective gold covering both it’s box and it’s product. I feel that the packaging represented it’s product to it’s finest - after all the name of the product is 24K gold. On top of that, it have a protruding circle around the product. It gives one the feel that it’s the king of the ocean. The golden pearl in the middle. Beneath the cover, there’s a see through matte container which shows the cream. Aside from the product, a clear spatula was also provided. 

One of the reason the cream is called 24k golden cream is because there is real gold in it. As seen, there are shiny gold flakes in the swatch and that is my favorite part of the cream. To spread the cream and see those gold flakes settling on your skin, it’s a sign of pure luxury. If you rub the cream more, the gold flakes would disintegrate into your skin. This helped my skin to not only look more radiant but relax it. The cream was thick and easy to spread. For a cream with such thickness, it was quick to absorb. Aside from the usual cream scent, there is not much scent to it. 

Upon application and absorption, my skin was very smooth and shiny. On top of that, it felt very moisturized. However, I feel that the cream is more suitable as a nightcare cream due to Singapore’s humidity. Thus, for those with oily skin type, do try to use a thin layer each time. 

On the whole, I would give Gobdigoun’s 24K Golden Cream Placenta Power 3 and a half IreviewUread smiles. I love it’s packaging and the fact that I could see gold in it. Plus, it feels very moisturizing and my skin feels very protected. As a night cream, this would the best product I’ve tried. Whereas, it’s not ideal for those with oily skin or usage in the day. Thus I would recommend the 24K Golden Cream Placenta Power to those who are looking for anti-wrinkle night creams and have dry to normal skin type. 

Finally, we’re at the end of the post. Now where to get these amazing products?

Where to buy the products?

For those of you heading to South Korea or reside there, you can head over to their stores. They have 2 stores retailing the products:

1. Gobdigoun Store

Address: 22-10, Chungmu-ro 1 ga-gil, Jung-gu, Seoul

Opening hours: 0900-2300

2. Beautiplex Store

Address : 26, Myeongdong8ga-gil, Jung-gu, Seoul, Korea

Opening hours: 0900-2300

Gobdigoun Online Store

Or if you’re not going to Korea anytime soon, you can order online. 

Head over to Gobdigoun Facebook Fanpage shop to order. You can pay via Paypal and international remittance.

Thank you to Gobdigoun for these interesting new products. You can check out Gobdigoun pages here: Website | Facebook

Wait the Gobidugoun post series is not over! Aside from Korean skincare products, Gobidugoun also offer Korean masks. Read the second part of my post where I review Gobigoun masks here. Masks being reviewed in that post are: 

Placenta Bio Cellulose Gel Mask 

3D Black Science Mask

Aqua Water Balloon Mask 

Whitening Water Balloon Mask 

Psst. Pin this post onto your pinterest board!

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