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pbandjesse · 11 months ago

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Today was a really good day. I am absolutely exhausted. And also very cold! I am excited to go to sleep.

I slept okay last night. I was still in a weird mood and I think if effected my dreams. I slept in and I think that helped a lot. But I still probably could have slept more.

I don't remember James leaving. But I would be okay when I got up. I got dressed and felt really pretty today. My lip hurts but is healing. My hair and makeup were great. I was in a good mood.

I had a snack for breakfast while I waited to hear from my mom. She had picked up Aunt Nadine around 9 and should be to me around 1030. So I had a little time to kill. I picked up a few things. Hung out with sweetp. And watched tiktoks on the couch. And very soon mom called me that they were downstairs.

When I got down there I laughed at them because they had parked out front and the sidewalk was so high next to Mom's car that she couldn't open the door. It got stuck on the sidewalk. Which is something that used to happen when we had the Toyota so it was very funny. I directed her to move the car to the side street and it would be easier.

She brought boxes for me for packing which was very appreciated. Hugs all around and then I took them inside. There were many complaints about the steps but we made it upstairs and I gave a mini tour and sweetp was so chatty at them which I thought was funny. He's such a baby.

We wouldn't stay at the apartment for long. We all piled into my car (after Nadine got stuck in the door and I had to feed her. We were really off to a great start) and I drove us to lunch at the Southside diner.

I have never had to wait before but it's a Saturday and we went st s normal meal time so it wasn't shocking. Just not much space to wait.

It was funny seeing Nadine make friends with other people, complimenting necklaces and stuff. And I was just enjoying being with my mom. I was feeling really happy having her here.

We did eventually get a table and the food would come quick. I loved talked to them both though. About Disney and moving and the house and the feelings I've had and I was just enjoying having them be there. I hope this isn't a one time thing.

After we finished eating and paid, I drove us over to the museum to say hi to James. Seeing my mom give them a big hug was so cute. I went to use the bathroom and had a brand new experience!

There was a huge event at the museum today for school kids doing a city building challenge so there were a bunch of kids. And right outside the bathroom was a group of preteen girls in hijabs. They came in the bathroom after me and almost all immediately took the hijabs off! I was slightly shocked but also. It's an all women's space. So it makes sense. But it was like when someone takes off their bra at the end of the day and go. Whew! They all made that face! They fixed their hair and put some water behind their ears and readjusted. It was just so sweet. We smiled at each other when we were washing out hands.

I went to give James a hug to. Mom was looking at the gift shop. Stanley came through and I introduced him to mom. And he made a fuss about me being great. I told him we would be back at BMI tomorrow but it was just to busy today. He said he knew that was right. We headed out soon after that as more people were coming in.

We drove around the block twice because I was struggling to figure out how to park at AVAM. Which was making me very stressed out but Mom told me I was okay and I ended up finding a spot across the street. I didn't know how long we would be there so I absolutely overpaid the parking but it was $3 so whatever.

I brought my staff id card that I was given when I did the contract work with them last year and I asked if I could get a discount. Mom and Nadine were like we can pay we can pay and I'm like shhh I'm haggling. And I got us all in for free I'm the best.

And I had a really good time. The one exhibit was dozens of large scale quilted embroidery pieces that told all the memories of a Holocaust survivor. Just a wild feat. There was also a really interesting exhibit from a woman with down syndrome that made these wrapped pieces and they x-rayed one to show what was inside and that was really fascinating. I really enjoyed talking about the pieces with mom and Nadine. The interesting thing about the visionary museum is that it's all self taught outside artists and there are some really funky pieces and it's just really cool to see how silly or serious or political different things can be. To see the different influences. I really enjoyed seeing the pieces. I love seeing art and it always leaves me feeling so inspired.

Before we went to the second building we stopped in the gift shop. Where Nadine lost us and thought we left her. But we were just looking at the books. I got one about turquoise jewelry of the southwest and they had a basket of Disney pins so I got a few of those to share with Jess. And after mom talked to the cashier and one of the workers for a while we went to get Nadine and walked to the other building. I climbed up in the one structure and we had some nice conversations about art and the other building is fun because it's the painted screens and the whirligigs and Fifi the giant poodle is there. It was fun.

Mom and Nadine were sitting on a bench while I was turning all the cranks and pushing all the buttons for the whirligigs. Nadine was struggling to get their reservation to confirm for the hotel but got them on the phone and became best friends with the customer service person. I was glad they have a nice room to stay in.

I wanted to show them where the house is. So I drove us all to Patterson Park and parked outside of our new place. Mom was surprised how narrow it is. It's 15 feet across inside. It's a little place for sure but they both grew up in a row house so I don't think they should be very surprised. They both seemed to like the block and the neighborhood. And after I drove us around to the alley which was the first time I've done that and it was neat to see how it was laid out from that side. I am curious if we can park there. We will have to see. It might be helpful for moving. But also it's angle parking instead of parallel so that also might be nice.

Mom had to get out of the car to move a trash can. And then I drove us around the entirety of the park so they could see how nice the park and neighborhood was. I also showed them where it gets slightly rougher but even then neither of them seemed concerned. I felt very supported and was just having fun pointing stuff out and being a tour guide.

After driving around the whole park I pointed out again where the house was. And showed how close things were to what, I took us back to the apartment. We decided we would take a break and they would go lay down and we would meet back up for dinner. This seemed like the best plan. And it worked out beautifully.

Once I parked we had big hugs and they left to go to the hotel. And I went upstairs. I was chilly. But I wanted to get at least something done even if it was small. I pulled out my suitcase and got that a little more ready. With my new little bag that I made sure fits my water bottle and umbrella. And affixed my new pins. Packed the ones for Jess. I spent a few minutes trying to find my clean toiletry airport bag. Which I did finally find in my other suitcase. So I sorted my nonliquids and my liquids and was glad to at least get a little bit accomplished.

I laid in bed with sweetp for the next hour and a half. Until James came home. I was just really cold and it was cozy in bed so why would I leave. I was happy to see James. They had a very long day. And we're pretty tired. But they were ready to leave for dinner whenever we needed to.

Mom called me as James was telling me a story about their day and thought she heard yelling. No my husband just speaks in shouts when they are excited. We decided to meet at their hotel at 6. So me and James would leave the house at 545.

And when we got there we pulled into the valet and told them we were there to get my mom and my aunt and the valet man was very nice. Opening doors for them and such. And then we were off.

Matthews would be very busy. I am not used to going to meals at normal times. But it wasn't a terrible wait. I had brought out wedding book to show Nadine so we had something to pass the time. I talked to the people waiting next to us and recommended the Thai pie to them and after they are they thanked me for the excellent recommendation. Which made me feel really good.

Nadine got tired of standing to wait and went and store a seat and I was very worried the waitress would be mad at us but it would be fine. And that's the table we ended up sat at anyway. And it took a while because they had just had a three table family party that obviously overloaded them a little but I was having fun talking and telling stories about hello kitty and giving a presentation on my wishlist for the year and explaining how the CIA selling weapons to Osama lead to Ellen losing her talk show and it was all very silly and fun.

And the food was great. I love Mathews and I'm really glad it worked out even if it was a little wait. I was happy with my family.

After we finished and paid I had James take out picture outside. And I just felt so much love.

We took them back to the hotel. I got out of the car to give hugs. And confirmed our plan for the morning. And then me and James headed home.

We got back here in one piece. James had music going and was singing and dancing at me. Being a goof. Love my silly husband.

I would take a shower. And got in my jammies and now we are in bed and I am really ready to sleep. I hope my mom and my aunt are resting and having fun being girls together in a hotel. I hope they have a nice view from their room. And I really hope we have fun tomorrow.

I hope you all sleep well tonight. Kiss your cats for me. Love you guys. Goodnight!

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thefirsteldenlord · 2 years ago

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"Papa!"

Running up, Perona has the completely meaningless bag of treats in one hand, and one o them embroidery looms in the other. About bouncing on her heels, she offers them to Serosh and Godfrey, respectively, beaming with pride and delight.

The embroidery is... Well, it's meant to be of both Godfrey and Morgott, her in the middle as if to scale. All three figures are abysmally done, signaling her being unversed but dedicated to the art.

"Se...rosh!" She happily chirps, offering the open bag to Serosh properly.

@eldenlordofdragons [Perona]

(happy crimus papa)

Whew! He managed to get all of his Santa gear off before Perona came running. He had a feeling he needed to make a quick change once he heard Perona giggling and jumping around in her chambers.

"What thou hath there, Lass? A gift for me? Thou'rt too kind l-" He paused for a brief moment as he saw the tall figure next to him in the embroidery. Was that... Morgott? Has she met Morgott??

He snapped back to attention when he Serosh mewled sharply as he munched down on some treats Perona hand fed him. Maybe it was Margit she made and was thinking off? Either way, Morgott isn't one to just approach a stranger, let alone a child. How she knows of him perplexes him.

"I thank thee, Lass." He gives her a gentle pat on the back. Either way, it's a cute little embroidery that he'll probably hang on the wall of his chambers.

#verse: [santa loux]#eldenlordofdragons #perona and godfrey #sorry this is soooo late lmao

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frogsandfries · 1 year ago

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I measured these on my lunch break, four pieces of heat-n-bond and four pieces of mulberry paper. I ironed them right after work before sitting down, putting on a multiple-hours long mixtrack and formatting my heart out.

Eventually I cut the Google doc I was working from because it was seriously slowing down the computer. The next time I format a fic, I'm not wasting time formatting it in the word program. I mean, I already know I can't really accomplish as much as I would like in the word editor as I can in Canva, even though Canva is a pain to use. Although I am already doing the final cleanup on chapter seven and ready to start fixing the apostrophes and quotation marks in chapter nine............ of twenty-five and apparently two epilogues........ whew.....

I was kinda too nervous to try to iron down the adhesive to the fabric. I'm sooooo anxious and nervous about not actually having enough room on the fabric for two covers. Also, I'm nervous about doing the spines wrong. What if I don't leave enough room for the spine? What if I just do it wrong? Why am I so nervous? I've made handfuls of books. I know what I'm doing. I could definitely always do better, but I'm not going to fuck it up that bad.

I just don't do that many fully hardcover books and this fabric is so.......... ridiculous. I wanted to try a new texture, but maybe I should've just stuck with plain ole cotton cloth........but what if this turns out really good??

All I have to do when I'm finally ready to cut out the fabric, is temporarily seal it with some diluted white glue.

What if it doesn't take embroidery?? I want to embroider the spines......!!

I should stop rocking on my rocking horse and just go take my stupid shower........I hate showering. Sometimes I think I should just chop off my hair.....but then it would be unmanageable and I ain't got no kinda time for managing my hair. I could shower in the morning.......

Anyway.

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softlittleheartsandsparkles · 2 years ago

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So because you keep talking about cross stitch and embroidery, I wanted to ask. Does this hobby have a ugly stage? (I'm not calling your art ugly btw. its very nice!) I just more so mean because I paint and draw, I know there's an ugly stage and I just wonder if cross stitch or embroidery has it too?

Hmm, so for me I would say "yes" however I don't know if it's truly an "ugly" stage as most of it is copying your pattern, and that's a slow process. So there's the start were the picture your creating doesn't look like much, or right, or you may panic and wonder 'did I give myself enough room' (... things I worry about) but because your filling in square by square it slowly starts to look like something? but also I find whats hard is sometimes being... like uncertain you did it correctly. (I also find methods like parking can make stuff harder, as you have many floss on the go stuck in a project and it can be confusing. Plus also I worry about wrapping different flosses up and getting tangled and just.. well yeah the mess. >< I'm trying parking currently and I don't like it. XD I also find it hard because the colors sometimes can be far to similar. Like offshoots of different shades of green & there all really close to one another, it's hard because they aren't labeled once there put in the project. so it's like 'is this... the right green? *holds up green that has a number card.* No wrong green... are you the right geen? *holds up another strained*....') I feel like the unsure/uncertain feeling I currently don't experience as much with embroidery, as embroidery atm was just filling in what's printed on the fabric, either by hand or the pattern is printed on in the kits I've used. I notice for my embroidery kits, even though it takes awhile to fill in, I don't really have so many feelings of 'did I do this right?" Like, I feel like for embroidery I have less of a panic, and more of an excitement of 'ooooh' "oooh pretty" "Oh how cool is this?!" or "... I don't like this stitch." Cross stitch is like... "whew I did this okay". (I've done cross stitch longer, but I've also done cross stitch not so well. ^^; So I get a little down, and sometimes judgemental or just nervous that I'm messing up. especially because kits do cost money and idk I worry about being wasteful. ^^;. But I find because of this, the stress is more there cause I wanna make some stuff that looks 'good'. I have a couple projects that I've stopped that looked really bad/nothing like the picture & my motivate would leave. &So, I haven't posted them, or worked on those ones. As they look really irky and wonky and I'd have to ripped up lots of work. so what I'd rather do is keep the pattern and when I feel more confident try the project a second time. But yeah. I find patterns like this to be a big learning curve and major difficulty. ^-^ but it's okay! ) I think mostly what's painful and what I've dealt with a lot of with cross stitch is finding out I frogged. (I miscounted stitches, which means the next color won't fit, or what I've made doesn't look right and I've figured out its cause I miscounted.... So I have to go back and remove stitches. they call that frogging, cause your ripping your stitches up.) But I'd also say it's apart of the process, much like how earsing for drawing is a thing, or painting and muddying a color is a thing. It's frustrating, but when you finally do a good piece you feel excited/accomplished. The only real difference I see is with cross stitch or embroidery pieces is these can take literal weeks, or months to work on. ^-^ But yeah, I think probably a "ugly" stage does come into effect, but I also believe there's a huge self doubt stage that can be set into motion and it's pretty hard too.

#scribbles #embroidery #cross stitch

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jiminrings · 4 years ago

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omg omg omg... what if jk sees yn WALKING TAE HOME?? like it looks like that but they’re just passing by his place or something and he’s actually walking yn home ?? and to make matters worse jk THOUGHT it wasn’t like that but someone told him “oh yeah she’s walking him home, she’s always done that with him” sorry if it’s not an original idea

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

it’s raining at a party and jungkook gets the wrong idea

“good evening.”

yoongi sQUAWKS at the shock that’s mere inches away from his face, having only woken up from his afternoon nap that ended up with him waking right before dinner

why were you all up in his face

what the fuck was that for ://

“god, never do that to me again,” he grumbles at the abrupt awakening even if it’s his system that told him to, only a convenience that you happen to be there when he was starting to shift in his now-shallow slumber

“guess what!!!”

oh you’re squealinG??? alright that must be good

it’s nice to hear you excited anyways because you haven’t been for a long time ever since j*ngkook lol

“just show me,” yoongi sits up fully from his position on the couch, rubbing the remaining sleep off his eyes

normally, you would be pissed instantly because him not guessing just spoils your whole excitement

but tHIS time you don’t look bothered at the slightest, proceeding to take his faux disinterest in stride

the door clicks open and seokjin strides in like he owns the place, trying to immerse himself in the situation he’s walked on as fast as possible

you squeal in regard, eyes now switching between him and yoongi before you whip out something from behind your back

“i got a lunchbox!!!!”

you thrust the lunchbox (you recreated it in the way you receiver it) to yoongi’s face and he flinches momentarily, eyes focusing on the lunchbox first before his mind processes your words

“that is a really shiny scarf it’s — wait what??”

you,,, gOT A LUNCHBOX????

..... and it’s not from him??

yoongi looks at seokjin and the way he looks perplex but definitely sure confirms that it isn’t him either

“so someone — you received a lunchbox. huh.”

WOOOOOOW

you nod earnestly, admiring the shiny scarf and the handiwork of an embroidery that’s your name on it

“yup! i was with taehyung when i noticed it on the corner of the room.”

oh god

seokjin scratches the back of his head and it’s a dead giveaway that yoongi notices, something sketchy definitely up in the air that shouldn’t be there

“yoongi! come here for a sec. i have a uh, question about weed :-)”

jin is nOT good when it comes to segues

he takes the liberty to pull aside a yoongi who has question marks knitted on his eyebrows, his gaze immediately trained on him once they’re far enough away from you

“long story but!!!!! that jungkook kid gave y/n the lunchbox. taehyung just happened to be there.”

you see

yoongi could only digest multiple things from a single sentence at once

but the problem is, he’s digesting EVERYTHING from jin’s sentence and he didn’t want to

he’s just gonna omit the parts he hates the most :D

“y/n. taehyung gave you that lunchbox. say thank you to him tomorrow morning.”

NO??????

jin sputters because that is clearly not the truth he’s just said

and apparently, you seem to think so to because you just laughed at his cutthroat statement

“no he didn’t,” you heartily laugh, putting down the lunchbox before crossing your arms across his chest

no way

both jin and yoongs freeze this time because does that mean you already know who gave the lunchbox to you??

and if you know who, and if you’re laughing right now,,,, does that mean you’ve already forgiven jungkook????

pls say no

“i already thanked taehyung, yoongs,” you smile at the fresh memory, “but two seconds later, he told me that he WASN’T the one who made it for me. he said he’s good at baking, but horrendous at cooking!!!!”

...

.....

“....... so you really don’t know who it is?”

“nope! not a clue :D”

whew

yoongi thinks you should never get to know who it is

jin thinks you shouldn’t know who it is tHIS early

yoongi dodges the topic easily to refrain from dwelling on it any longer, about to send an angry text full of queries to jin later on

“mmm. what was the lunch?”

“my favorite!!!” you beam and even whip out your phone to show them the picture of the food you ravaged hours ago

you turn your eyes to jin, giddy in excitement while yoongi’s holding your phone-holding hand to zoom into the picture

“and it’s just like your recipe!!!”

.. hehe

..... that’s because it his

goddamn jungkook managed to recreate it like his recipe???? hmm commendable

alright yoongi’s angrily looking at him rn

maybe he’ll send an angry paragraph text this time >:(

“weren’t you concerned like... since you don’t know the person? what if they poisoned your lunch?”

yoongi suggests in an attempt to make you think rationally, away from his insistence that you should nEVER know that jungkook made you your favorite

“then i got a good meal out of it.”

that’s not,,,, that’s not a good answer

b-bestie ??????

both yoongi and jin are speechless and the former takes the lead once more, clearing his throat because the conflict of this lunchbox thing is presenting makes his head ache

“anyways, there’s another party tonight.”

you raise your hand quick in the prospect of unwinding for free

“i’m in!!”

“you should be. hoseok’s the host.”

that makes it even better!!!

it apparently doesn’t for mr. student affairs because jin groans in annoyance, not really digging his school official position because he’d need to sit this one out forcibly :///

“goddamn it. jung’s throwing it? his parties are sO good that it even reached our radar when i was still a senior!”

it it reaches senior-level status of approval then that’s like,,,, the only seal of approval you’d ever need

“no way,” you’re awed at the newfound fact, not expecting that hoseok was already an A+ party-thrower even before he became a senior this year

“even namjoon liked his parties.”

namjoon THEE student registrar??? the same namjoon as in your friend by extension because he’s sort of a friend to seokjin???? :O

“really? even namjoon found his parties great??? BUT HE’S LIKE-“ yoongi finds the right substitute words to a stick up his ass in the most respectful way possible because he’s sort of friends with the guy too, “he’s like namjoon,, he’s the antithesis to hoseok.”

jin shrugs because everyone knows the saying at this point

there’s something for everyone at jung’s

“wear a face mask?” yoongi suggests to jin so he wouldn’t be recognized, knowing he’s a lil upset that he can’t come to this party because the face he boasts about is known by everybody

“no. i’m gonna look like a fucking narc, yoongi.”

alright that makes sense

he bounces back from that, waving his hand to shoo you and yoongi off

“sucks. yeah whatever. i’ll hold the fort down, just don’t do anything stupid enough for me to pick you up.”

you’re not gonna do anything stupid!! :)

jungkook’s too down to even focus at the moment

he’s at his desk and he’s supposed to study for a test tomorrow, and all the material needed for it is engraved in his mind already, but well

yeah his mind’s only fixed on you right now and not chemistry

“she thought it was someone else who gave her the lunchbox.”

jin flinches as his door bursts open, his lunch break sign posted rIGHT outside the door to avoid things like these happening

oh it’s jungkook

oh. it’s jungkook ://

“i keep telling you that counseling’s right next door, kid.”

jin himself digs the running joke but jungkook apparently doesn’t, a sorrowed look to his face that can’t be fixed by some teasing

jin ignored that obviously because it’s not like he’s on jeon’s side!! he’s just here to be as neutral and realistic as much as possible

“and besides, it’s not like you put your name on it, right?? wasn’t that your whole purpose? do it to her like she did to you?

��m-my name...,. i’ll put my name...?”

WAIT HOLD ON

jungkook jolts from his desk, an epiphany forming in his mind

he may not have understood the interaction he had with mr. kim hours ago, but after replaying it in his head for hours now (along with that part of you mistaking taehyung to be the giver), he fINALLY gets an idea

he rushes out of his room and right to the couch where jimin’s sprawled out and watching a movie

“hi jimin!!! is there a party tonight?”

jimin almost falls out of his seat from the surprise of seeing jungkook altogether, gripping his chest

“f-fuck! — yeah. yeah dude, there’s a party tonight...?”

wait why is he asking

“o-okay!! take me with you.”

WHAT

jimin’s surprised that jungkook wants to come with, let alone even ask in the first place

buuuut jimin’s a good friend and he’ll say his assurances first before he gets to asking the why aspect to this

“alright. by the way about last time, kook — i swear i won’t leave you alone this time!! i’m gonna hold my alcohol in and-“

“no, no!” jungkook interrupts and shakes his head strongly, spooking jimin for a second with how determined he looks

“you can leave me alone at the party!! i-i’ll be there on my own.”

this is his idea

he’s a man with a plan!!! he’s also a man who has your eyedrops and the various containers he made with it inside his gigantic hoodie pocket

he’s more comfortable now than he was the first time he came around at a party

he knows you’re here somewhere along the crowd and that alone brings him comfort :-)

“i’m gonna go outside. these vape juices are annoying.”

you huff the moment you get a whiff of sriracha-flavored vape juice one more time, the whole area where you happen to sit in being the most annoyingly-scented room in the whole house

who does that!!!!! who gets condiments as their fucking vape juice!!!!!

yoongi waves you off as he’s also nearing his limit too, his peeve being mint chocolate juice and he’s gonna dip as sOON as this dude at the corner tries blowing it into laughable smoke rings again

yeah that’s what fresh air smells like alright

.... and rain??

it’s raining???

wow you haven’t even noticed and practically no one else did

hoseok’s sound system must be too good for none of you to notice that it’s raining outside!! a light shower that looks like it’s gonna turn into buckets within a matter of minutes

“Y/N!!!”

a voice yells into the street and your eyes widen with how loud it is, squinting your eyes hard to try and see the source

is that-

“TAEHYUNG?!?!”

is he running towards you??

wait why is he running towards you

(tae actually found out about this party through yoongi and he heard that there were non-alcoholic jello shots and mini cake hors d’oeuvres which are his favorites so he’s sprinting)

the way that he’s running towards you and the water that puddles when he steps gives you anxiety, a worried lilt to your yell

“TAE?? BE CAREFUL IT’S-“

taehyung can’t register what you just yelled out because before he knows it, he slips

he slips suddenly in the rain and there’s a harsh twist to his ankle in doing so that makes him choke out

“WHAT DID YOU — FUCK!!^]%{^]”

oh my god

you grab the nearest umbrella in the rack from your right, speed-walking to where taehyung’s fallen on the ground

he’s visibly startled, blubbering when you get to him

“i-i’m not crying. it’s the rain.”

of course :-)

you lift taehyung without much help from him since it’s hard for him to shift his body weight into one foot, putting yourself underneath his arm

“yeah, i believe you,” you smile as to comfort him and he returns it in relief, knocking the side of his head to the top of yours because his adrenaline’s through the roof

“i’ll walk you home. or to the emergency room. your call.”

“ER please??? god, m-my roommate’s into crystals and i don’t think amethyst can help me with this.”

yeah lmao that’s your cue to start walking

you text seokjin to meet you at the hospital instead of here, having to consider the fact that an official from student affairs is picking you up and is indeed your best friend being enough of a shock for poor taehyung at the moment

jungkook’s been looking for you for the past minute ever since you stood up from the couch, following you out the door but uh,,, you’re not here??

who is here?

oh wait!!! that’s vernon at the bench by the front foor!!! he’s from his stem class :D

“was that y/n? a-and taehyung?”

jungkook doesn’t beat around the bush because he’s sort of friends with the guy too, the same guy who’s a lil giggly with the daiquiris at the moment

“hey jimin!! what’s up dude? yeah, that was y/n and taehyung.”

uhm what

jimin’s BLONDE!! how could he get mistaken for jimin?

jungkook ignores the mistaken identity, eyes anxiously pointing towards the road again

“she’s walking him home?”

“totally. she’s always done that with him.”

what

..... what

he’s trying to trust it on good faith that vernon absolutely doesn’t know what he’s talking about

jungkook’s hurt but god does that pain shoot through him instantly, getting out of the porch wistlessly

wAIT

that’s you!!! that’s still you!!!!

and you’re-

????

you’re holding up taehyung and he’s limping

your ears pick up on the sudden running behind you and that pANICS you and in turn panics tae

but that doesn’t matter

it shouldn’t.

the cabs are atleast three more blocks away and neither of you brought a car because the dorms are walking-distance

everyone that’s left at the party has got to be too intoxicated to even put a key in the ignition

the weight on your shoulder eases and it makes you stop in your tracks to see if tae’s suddenly regrouped

is that —

jungkook lifts taehyung by his other arm, the light shower of rain making his hair damp without an umbrella like yours

“taehyung’s hurt.”

it only registers now that you’re seeing jungkook and he’s right here, surprising you as a whole

jungkook’s as startled as you are, swallowing the nervousness upon seeing you to get his words out

“a-and i wanna talk to you.”

#wHAT SHOULD HAPPEN AT THE NEXT UPDATE OMG #stem koo #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook drabble #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff

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mayakern · 5 years ago

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"Ash"

chapter 9 of my queer fantasy romance novel Spitfire is up on AO3!

i can't believe i'm already almost 60k words in.... WHEW!

here's a drawing of Allene in a dress from this chapter! you can support Spitfire on patreon

an excerpt from this chapter:

“Good evening, Princess,” Caederyn says. He’s dressed simply, but well: a long, slim fitted blue-black velvet coat that ends just above the knee, with a collar and cuffs embellished with beaded gold embroidery and a front closure joined with a single line of golden buttons, with a red handkerchief folded in the pocket and red threading at the button holes. He looks positively delicious.

“I like all this,” I say, raising my free right hand to gesture toward his ensemble. I decide to leave my hand resting on his upper arm, above where my left arm rests upon his, instead of letting it fall. “You look beautiful.”

His long face colors charmingly. “I feel as if I should be the one telling you that.”

“I already know I’m beautiful,” I reply playfully. “But somehow I think you don’t hear it often enough.”

#artists on tumblr #art #writeblr #writing on tumblr #original fiction #fantasy writing #romance writing #spitfire #maya draws things #queer fiction

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itsmeevie01 · 4 years ago

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A Moment in Time- Ch 3

Whew! almost 3000 words later, here we are!

After extracting herself from her grandmother’s hug, she giggled and turned to make sure her parents were ok with her leaving the counter. After getting the approving nod from her mother who moved to fill her spot, Marinette skipped around to guide her Nona upstairs. The elderly woman laughed before tugging on her granddaughter’s arm to stop the over excited teen. “before we go and talk, my Fairy, I want you to meet someone. He was just going to put the up-” the bell rang again as Gina spoke, and when the duo looked over, Marinette froze. The smile that had been floating on her face sliding off in shock as a face came into view she hadn’t seen in 11 years.

“Jason?”

The room seemed to freeze at Marinette’s question, the crack in her voice pulling her parent’s attention. The man entering the building zeroed in on her, his eyes widening as he looked to where his name had been called. “Marinette.” He breathed her name before striding towards the small girl and pulling her into a tight hug. The teen clung to him in return, shaking as she was enveloped in her older brother’s arms for the first time in years.

“Are- Are you. This isn’t.”

“No, Mari, this isn’t a dream. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” A sob crawled its way up the teen’s throat as she buried her face in her brother’s shirt. From somewhere outside of their little world, the girl could her someone calling her name. Someone was trying to get her attention. Jason poked her in the side, obviously concerned. “do you want to answer them or should I?” when she looked up at him confused, her older brother sighed before smiling down at her. “I’ll take care of it.”

When Marinette finally started to tune back into the world around her, they were upstairs. When she looked around, she realized that it wasn’t late afternoon anymore, but it was mid-evening. The lights outside the window glowed in the darkness, and a light rain falling. Shaking her head, Marinette forced herself to focus on what was going on in the small sitting room of the apartment. Jason was still next to her, and Gina was perched on the side of the chair opposite them. Her parents were sitting on the couch, looking at her in concern. “I…. what did I miss?” Her father’s laugh made the embarrassed teen look up.

“Oh, little flower.” The fondness in his voice led to Marinette looking up. He made a face at hat that she returned, before the two started to laugh. Her mother elbowed him, before smiling at her.

“Welcome back, dear. Don’t worry, there weren’t too many stories making their rounds.” The girl flushed before turning back to her brother.

“what did you- “

“Don’t worry, Mari. I didn’t tell them any of the good stories. I just filled them in. It’s not every day that a strange guy comes in and starts hugging their kid.” She scowled at him before nodding.

“ok.”

“Marinette, why didn’t you ever tell us about Jason? If we had known…” The siblings cringed.

“I… um.”

“She got caught. At the time Marinette didn’t know where I was because I was trying to get her out without the police or social workers figuring it out.” Tom froze, confusion obvious on his face.

“what do you mean, Caught?” Jason glanced at his sister, surprised.

“you didn’t tell them?” the teen shrugged.

“I didn’t think that it was important once I got here. Jason, you know what it was like. Why would I want to relive it once I was away? It…it was like a fairy tale. Well,” here the girl flushed. “Once I stopped trying to run away and board a plane. Something about that made them kinda frustrated.” Her older brother threw his head back and laughed.

“only you Mari. Only you would try to sneak on a transatlantic flight.” He studied her. “how far did you get?” the girl smiled devilishly. “they were taxiing for takeoff before they realized that there was something wrong.” He snorted before holding his hand out for a high-five.

“nice.” The Dupain-Cheng couple gaped at the duo in shock while Gina laughed.

“you- you. Why is that. She could have been hurt!” Jason raised an eyebrow at that.

“Mr. Dupain, have you ever seen Mari in action? If she was going to get hurt, she would have gotten off or taken care of the threat.”

“I-she CAN?” the girl laughed.

“Papa, you have to remember how tame Paris is compared to Gotham. I don’t have the need for many of the skills I picked up while I was a kid. Plus,” here the girl sent her brother a side eye glare. “I felt safe here. And I kept an eye on Jason. I have an ongoing hack of the GCPD.” Jason froze before whipping around to gape at her.

“YOU WHAT.” The look of shock on her face made the girl giggle.

“I figured that if you were getting into trouble I would be able to see what was going on better that way. Of course, there is that other hacker…they keep pushing me out. But its fine. Whoever Oracle is, they are always a step behind.” Jason gapped at her.

“Mari. You’re out hacking Oracle? She-Uh THEY are legendary! It’s said that she helps the Bats!” The teen sniggered at his response.

“then they need a new hacker. I’ve been out hacking them since I was 8. And if you ever meet them, you are more than welcome to tell them that. It’s a shame, really.” Jason stared at her, shocked.

“oh Mari. PLEASE don’t pick a fight with the Bats again. Or, you know, their INTERNATIONALLY FAMOUS hacker.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“wanna bet? I can win a war with them by the end of the week. And the Bats are just wimps. We’ve been over this.” Gina Dupain chose this moment to interrupt her granddaughter.

“Marinetta, what does Jason mean start a fight with Batman again?” The teen started ton invent new shades of red.

“I…may have started loudly calling Robin names and when he came to stop me I beat him in a fight. With Jason’s help, of course.” The older woman studied Jason with a knowing look that confused Marinette before she shelved the conversation for another time.

Through the din of the conversation that the five had fallen into as Jason and Marinette caught up and Gina explained how she knew Jason, cut the dinner timer. Sabine smiled and she rose to gather the plates needed for the group. As she did so, she motioned Marinette to join her. Once the two were standing over the oven as Sabine pulled out the chicken and Marinette served the rice and green beans to go with, the mother paused and looked at her daughter in worry. “Marinette, why didn’t you tell us about your brother? We could have tried to bring him over-” she was cut off by the noirette shaking her head.

“no, mama. Jason was the one to teach me to avoid CPS and the GCPD. Everything I knew? He knew and was able to do better. I was caught because I was trying to help another kid who didn’t know what they were doing and took me down with them. The only reason he got caught at all is probably because he did something incredibly stupid and daring.” The Chinese woman nodded before pulling her daughter into a hug.

“well I’m glad that we got you, even if its because of another person’s mistakes. You are the greatest blessing in your father’s and my life.” The girl ducked her head as she hugged her mother in return.

“I love you too, mama.”

At dinner, Gina regaled them with stories of her adventures with Jason. When Tom expressed his surprise at some of the things Jason had tagged along on the Gotamite laughed.

“you do know the only reason Bruce got me was because I was caught stealing the tires off the Batmobile, right?” Marinette choked, snapping to lock eyes with her mother.

“I told you he did something stupid.” The woman laughed in agreement, while Tom studied the young man in front of him.

“who did you say adopted you? A Bruce?” Jason rolled his eyes.

“Bruce Wayne. Gotham’s resident billionaire, and the collector of lost children.” Marinette narrowed her eyes.

“This wouldn’t be the same Bruce Wayne that the entirety of the media has decided I’m either dating the son of or am the newest child of, would it?” Jason laughed.

“yup defiantly the same Bruce. To be fair, he’s been on a quiet kick with the adopting thing. We think he’s planning something. And, in my defense, the only reason I knew what was going on was Tim can into my apartment simmering in anger that the press was stalking him again.” He paused, “oh and I went to pick up one of the tabloids so that I could immortalize his shame and was met with your face.” Here he turned to Marinette. “if they hadn’t run that story, I may never have seen you again.” The watery smile that he was met with made him smile.

“let go back to the Batmobile for a moment. What were you going to do, just leave a note after taking the tires? Write a quick thanks and leave?” Sabine’s humor quickly lightened the atmosphere as everyone laughed.

“no, actually. I was going to leave a red chrysanthemum.” Jason’s response made Marinette break into giggles.

“you were going to leave my sign? Jason!” the rest of the table looked around, clearly lost. Taking pity on them, Marinette went on to explain. “the red chrysanthemum is my favorite flower. Its also one that we were able to get ahold of easily in Gotham. Jason always called me his Chrysanthemum because it means hope. He called my Chrys when we were with other kids so that I was harder to track. He literally called me his hope for years. Its also why,” here she looked her grandmother dead in the eye, “they are the symbol for my brand.” The older woman tossed her head back in a laugh.

“only you, Marinetta. Only you.

After dinner and Gina and Jason had reluctantly left for the night, the Dupain-Cheng family sat and talked together a while more before separating to move towards bed. Afterall, they did have a bakery to open in the morning. When Marinette was sure that her parents were asleep, she opened her chaise. There, buried under piles of blankets and spare fabric and next to one of her specialized embroidery machines that had been packed away to save space, was a black rectangular box with a red chrysanthemum carved into it. Breathing a sigh of relief, the teen pulled out the box and settled her hand on top of it, letting her magic seep into the wood. A moment later, the box was expanding, opening, and giving her access to the box of the Miraculous of the Chinese Zodiac. Plagg zipped to join her as she studied the jewels in front of her before settling her hand on the Bee Miraculous that she had been puzzling over for weeks. The Kwamii looked at her before he finally sighed. “kid you know what you need to do. As much as we don’t like it, the girl is a good match for Pollen. Plus, you and the Bug need a rest. Without the Bee you know that the rest of your team won’t fall into place.” She smiled at the Kwamii before looking down again.

“I know Plagg, but…what if she says no? Lady Tyche and I can only do so much, and I don’t want to open our group to someone who is going to pull an Alya. I spent months training her with Tyche before we even let her come to an attack, and she still had the audacity to believe Lila. I don’t want to bring someone else into the fold and have them flake.” The miniature cat god nodded at his chosen as she drifted for a moment, thinking about days gone by. “ok Plagg, Let’s Make Mischief!” as her transformation fell over her, Apate stretched, preparing to wander into the night. Her luminous blue eyes, catlike and glowing in the night, narrowed as she made the jump, her black boots landing on the balcony. The black suit resembled a black track jacket, with the bottom half resembling close cropped cargo pants. Her boots, while silent, had a heel, giving the petit girl a very well needed few inches. Her black hair, while long and free flowing in daily life, was now held back in a French braid. The gauntlets on her forearms glinted silver in the moonlight, and the bracers on her shins reflected the light from the streets below. Apate’s hands flexed, the reinforced gloves flashing as her claws extended. A small smile crawled over the Vigilante’s face as she scanned the ridgeline of the building across from her before she detached her baton and let herself fly away from the small bakery.

When she landed at the Tower, the cat-like Vigilante settled herself on one of the beams looking out over the night. Her eyes focused on a figure in the distance and followed it as it made it’s way closer. When the figure landed next to her, Apate grinned up at Lady Tyche. The Blonde smiled down at her more violent companion. Her braided ponytail shifted in the wind, and the dark mask made the smaller girl roll her eyes. After almost four years, the two were pretty good at reading each other. As Lady Tyche settled next to Apate, the red hero smiled. Her garnet suit shifted in the moonlight. The black reinforced areas along her shins and arms seeming to disappear into the night to the naked eye. The older miraculous wielder had been apprehensive to let Apate redesign her suit from the bight red that had black spots everywhere. Apparently, it was a Tikki staple. When Apate had shown Tyche the simple garnet suit with the black shading on her sides, and the reinforcement on her arms, the hero had changed her tune. That had been three years ago, and since then the girls had grown closer. They had realized somewhere down the line that they must be in the same grade because they had chosen names that mirrored the Greek goddesses they had been learning about. When Apate had found out the box was based off the Chinese zodiac, she had laughed to herself. By then, it had been too late to change her name to honor the origin of the box.

That evening, the two had gotten together to once again debate the idea of adding a certain Bee to their ranks. This had been a topic for almost a year and the duo were apprehensive at the thought of adding an unknown this far into their battle.

“What did Tikki say?” When Apate broke their silence, Tyche sent her a small smile. They both knew that Apate was the more anxious of the duo. There was a reason she worked better in the shadows. The idea of adding the Bee, well it was keeping her up at night.

“She was all for it. After she heard what Wayzz had said, she agreed with him. adding another holder and setting up our team is the right move.” The girls exchanged looks. Apate took a deep breath before nodding.

“Plagg and I have been talking. With our final year in Lycée ending in eight months, he agreed that we need to try ad wrap this up.” Tyche snorted.

“I don’t know about you, but I am ready to leave Paris. If I can leave for University, it would be amazing.” Apate nodded in agreement.

“does that mean we should go visit Chloé?” Tyche hesitated.

“Actually, I was thinking. I know that we have been careful, for years now, but we both know that we’re getting closer to our identities. Would, would it be ok if we-” understanding settled on Apate’s face. She thought for a moment before nodding.

“well, there isn’t a Guardian to tell us no anymore. Plus, it might be good for us.” Both girls laughed as they stood. “how about this. I have to go get the Bee anyways, so come with me, and we can do the reveal nearby. That way we can be sure its in a secluded place.” Tyche nodded as she readied her yoyo.

“which way, Kit-Cat?” Apate laughed and jumped off the tower, letting herself start the trek back to the quaint Bakery that currently was housing miniature gods.

OK! so, Apate is the greek goddess of Decit, Tyche is the greek goddess of luck. i wanted unique names. thats all.

moving on, i’m not sure if anyone had noticed or not, but i think i’m allergic to ahving Adrien as Chat Noir. i’m debating adding him in as another Miraculous but we will see. i can’t really think of one i like for him.

yes! chrystantamums are going to play a big part in this. im goign to lear a little bit of this up too. Marinette was adoopted by the Dupain-Chengs when she was about 5. she is Jason’s half sister. she is incredably bright and i have a thing for crazy smart Mari so she skipped 2 grades and is a year away from university. she does not know Jason died yet. the time where Mari was kinda out of it, i’m useing as a plot device so that i can skip stuff. basically, Jason explains that Mari is is his little half sister and that they were out on the streets all of her early life before CPS picked her up. they share a father, not a mother. Jason is crazy protective of her.

anywhoooooo have a goodone yall, and ill see you soon wiht another chapter, probably.

tag list- @moonlitceleste @redscarlet95 @ultimatetornshipper @mochegato @liquid-luck-00 @maskedpainter @trippingovermyfeet @nathleigh @m0chick0furan

#a moment in time fic #maribat #timari #sibling!jasonette #ml x dc #mlb #miraculous ladybug #My writing #oops again #this was a lot #and a brain dump #i sorry

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inkofamethyst · 3 years ago

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March 3, 2022

Okay so I’ve been really stressed recently so I don’t think I was in the proper mindset to actually, and I mean truly write about the performance experience. My first one in three years. First of all, when getting ready for bed after concert #2, I found dried blood in my nose and I’m 86% sure it was from the intensity of just absolutely going all out during our second to last song (not hard enough however, as I did (barely) have enough vocal stamina to sing through our last song), just full on screaming (with semi-proper vocal technique, of course) every “ahhh” and all the fake latin syllables. And I can’t not mention my cello-friend whose small ensemble piece was selected for the main concert. It was a medley from one of my favorite game OSTs of all time, and it.. it just... the second night (and the first night too, but the second one especially) it was so so so fluid and beautiful and listening to it felt so smooth... listening to it felt so much like breathing that it took my breath away at some points I wanted to cry I was completely enraptured it gave me chills. And the soloists. Such clear voices, and oh so moving. And the intrumentsssss!!! The flutes, my bretheren, of course, did fantastic. Brass? Amazing. Strings? Killed it (they were movin an’ groovin (in straight time though, because they can’t really handle swung eighths, as we’ve learned)). The clarinet soloists? Wowza. Them other winds? Yes. AND THE PIANISTS??? AGH incredible! Percussion??! Whew. And choir, of course, adding that lil splash of somethin’ extra.

The weirdest thing was like, after the concerts I had to go straight back to my apartment to get homework done or study and like,,,, as much as I tried to deny myself of it, I was totally feelin a performance high, but I needed to calm down. So I was just forcing deep breaths to try to re-regulate myself again so I could go to sleep. But I was full on vibrating. And how do you just go take an exam (physics, it was rough) and a bone practical (anth, it was fine) the very next day after you sing yourself into a nosebleed??

I have so much altering to do over Spring Break. And even then, I’m travelling for half of it so I won’t be able to sew stuff (if I want to finish that brown circle skirt (the wool/rayon one), I may have to do most of it (cutting, sewing (it’s a simple make that I’ve done twice before, so it really shouldn’t take long, but I want it to look nice so I’m going to take my time)) this weekend at home and just set it up to hang until break and hem it then). And like, yeah, I’m looking forward to gaining the experience and confidence with alterations because that’s going to be such a useful skill as a petite person, but I also wanted to make stuff on my own. Anyway. A few weeks ago I was complaining about not being able to find brown trousers and I found some that ideally will fit my waist but are two inches too long. While I still do intend to make the circle skirt, I’m hoping that the trousers will become a welcome addition after I fix them up.

Today I’m thankful for raspberries. Can you believe I just had my first raspberry ever just last weekend? I love them lil red things! They’re amazing! They’re a splurge when it comes to price, that’s for sure, but sometimes it’s worth paying a little bit extra for something nice, just for yourself.

I’m also thankful (bonus thank!!) that I have no homework over this weekend!! It’s been so long since that was the case. And like, there are things I need to do (revisions, conference prep, my hair (might convince my mom to braid it for me as a belated birthday gift)), but nothing that needs to be turned in Sunday night. So I can just go to sleep right after rehearsal. Possibly two days in a row(!!).

I think I’m going to bring my embroidery stuff to school with me so I can practice (and also so that my hands can fiddle around and make things and aren’t so tempted to do crimes). I saw this black-embroidery-on-black-fabric waistcoat on pinterest and lowkey I wanna try that. Gotta get better at embroidery first.

Last thing: So I watched The Green Knight tonight and like,,, okay. I’m sure if you’re really into Arthurian legend and you’ve read the source material, this might indeed be a great film. And like, it certainly was pretty; there were some lovely shots of the landscape and forest (and we know how how I love me a landscape and forest). I think the actors did a pretty good job. I just didn’t care for it? Idk I think movies peaked with PG-13, first of all, and I was just confused most of the time, probably because I had literally no context for what I was watching. What was up with that fox?? I know following foxes in Skyrim leads you to secrets?? And I think I understand the ending representing the main character’s growth or whatever,,,,, but from the very start when he 1. took up a challenge that he had no obligation to do and 2. decided, of all possible wounds he could have inflicted, knowing he would receive the same in a year, chop of the magic dude’s head I already knew I wasn’t rooting for that man. Like I ain’t want him to die or nothin, but in my opinion he had it comin for bein a fool like that. It was probably the palpable testosterone in the air from bein round all them knights or something that made him feel like a beheading was a better alternative to just nicking the magic dude’s finger.

Actual last thing: I gave my PIs a draft of my poster and they were like “this is a great draft!!!” and not three hours later gave me a completely redesigned version of it. And I don’t want to send the impression that I’m in any way upset/angry/annoyed/salty because truly I am not I just think it’s really funny. I mean it certainly needed all of the edits they suggested and we’re going to talk about it tomorrow and everything it’s just funny how I’m clearly so new to all of this.

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llycaons · 4 years ago

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ep1 rewatch thoughts

the first scene is very carefully composed wrt character interactions - every single shot, ever turn of the head and step the characters take, every time they look at each other, it seems momentous and historical

of course, in the context of the show, it is, these are the arguably the two of the three most important character relationships of the show (sorry, yanli, you’ve been erased again. I know you were the third). but it’s a bold move when first time viewers don’t know any of these people

the way wwx says “lan zhan” is so gentle and defeated. I love you but I’m tired, please let me go

different subs for viki - they literally translate titles. that’s fine, just a little getting used to

as much as I hate to admit it, reading the novel gave this episode so much more context. cql really did not bother to explain a lot of worldbuilding that would have made it a much less confusing opening. ex. lan juniors have protection arrays stitched into their robes, so that’s why they threw them at the puppet. also, the papers mzy shoves at wwx are actually mxy’s own writings, a diary of sorts that talks about his life and provides exposition for the audience

when “mxy” pulls the spirit lure flag out of mzy’s pocket and proves he’s been stealing, you can see mzy’s accomplice making the “yikes” face in the background lol

the lan spiritual power bursts are blue, while all of wwx’s are red. I don’t recall if he ever did this after his core removal so this may be another indication his core is regenerated

I was confused on my earlier viewing, but in cql, wwx really was brought back in his own body, presumably at the same age, with his scars removed and his core regenerated

“mxy” makes airplane noises as he runs away with his arms outstretched. airplanes don’t exist in the untamed.

our first rendition of wuji is a very gentle and quiet version when wwx sees the cloud embroidery and remembers seeing lwj for the first time and physically has to sit down and contain himself. whew. the first episodes come in swinging. soulmates, you know?

a lot of questions about why wwx avoided lwj in cql despite remembering him well and clearly caring a lot about him. lots of explanations, really, none really given explicitly by the text but it’s not hard to think of a few reasons based on the kind of person wwx is and the kind of struggles he had in his previous life and the way he died

personally I think it was a combination of several reasons. first of all, he’s been alive for less than a day after...well. it’s overwhelming for him to just be alive again, to participate in the world. he’s still remembering people, piecing bits of himself together. he’s alright handling the kids because he’s an expert in the subject and a great teacher but anything closer to a real connection with someone from his past life has him wrecked. and lwj is one of the two living people with THE strongest connection to his past self. so naturally he’s nervous about handling that

I actually think another reason might be guilt and a reluctance to drag lwj back into...whatever mess he might be in. and honestly I think he may be doubtful that lwj still feels as close to him as he does to lwj, and he doesn't want to deal with that kind of loss, and would rather ignore the possibility entirely and keep the power of walking away in his own hands. we’ve seen that right after BM, too

of course, anyone who knows lwj (and wwx DOES know him) would know that lwj doesn’t just...stop caring about people because they’re dead. but that’s where the trauma and abuse come into play because they mess with his sense of self-worth and his relationships with other people. still, it definitely could have been clearer

I think this episode was dragged down as a whole by failures to clearly explain things like this. it was also kind of embarrassing to watch and not in a good way (it’s the ableism). however, it did what it needed to do effectively, it was emotionally evocative, the high romance was obvious, the action was engaging (if nonsensical), the mxy outfit with hair down was excellent, characters are introduced who we will meet later as young kids and that’s always really fun, and I really liked the techniques used to introduce wwx-as-mxy and the sacrifice ritual in general. solid first ep even if it was kind of bad.

#cql rewatch #long post #i love the structure of the series its bonkers

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annteasocial · 5 years ago

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Hihi! I really loved your arashi nee-chan x reader! It was so cute! May I request a Mika one where the reader is pretty skilled at embroidery but she’s embarrassed (I’ve noticed people often think it’s like,,, for grannies ;-;)so she hides it? And he finds out somehow??Maybe she’s Valkyrie’s producer or something? Thank you in advance if you do decide to write it, and don’t forget to rest enough and drink lots of water!

Omg I should have gotten this done a lot sooner but I was so busy and Word crashed on me :’). This is quite long, about 1.6k words X’D. AND I AM JUST GOING TO SAY THIS NOW BUT THIS WAS SO WHOLESOME TO WRITE LIKE I WAS PHAT UWU-ING THIS ENTIRE TIME. I love Mika ugh he’s adorable :’))))))

Mika X Fem!Embroiderer Reader:

You sat in the handicrafts club, sorting out the staging setup for Valkyrie’s next DreFes performance, which was approximately two weeks away from now. “Hmm…hopefully the costumes are finished soon so there’s one less thing for me to worry about. Oh, and some of the lighting still needs to be rigged in preparation…I should let the operators know about that,” you mumbled to yourself, scribbling down your schedule in a cute notebook Mika gave you for your birthday last year.

The notebook was a light baby blue in colour, decorate d with black and silver lace. There were bits of paper sticking out from the pages and all sorts of little stickers covering the front cover. “Alright…just need to work out when the stylist is available so I can contact her…aaaand done!” You closed the notebook with satisfaction and leaned back in your chair.

It was about 3:15 in the afternoon, so you had about 15 minutes left of your spare period. “No one’s around…so maybe I’ll work on my embroidery,” you hummed, pulling out a medium sized embroidery hoop from your bag that had the beginnings of a beautiful cherry blossom pattern on it. You also grabbed a needle and some coloured threads from your kit, fearing that if you took anything from the handicrafts club, Shu would find out and have your head.

Sighing, you began to work on completing the branches of the cherry blossom tree, threading the brown string into the desired pattern.

~~~

“(Y/N)-chan~! Are ya in here?”

Startled, you shoved your embroidery hoop into your lap and quickly scooted your chair forward to hide it from view. “Oh, Mika. You gave me a bit of a fright there,” you said, watching as the 2nd year’s expression turned into a slightly panicked one. “Bwah! Sorry ‘bout that, I guess I didn’ realise ya’d actually be in ‘ere.” Mika scratched his head awkwardly but continued to talk. “Were you workin’ on s’mthin’ jus’ now? Hope I didn’ interrupt you or anythin’…”

You swallowed nervously, “uhh, I was just sorting out my schedule of things to do before Valkyrie’s DreamFes performance,” you replied. “Wow, s’mtimes I think Oshi-san and I don’ deserve ya. Yer really hardworkin’ yanno?” You blushed slightly at his compliment and fiddled with the fabric hidden in your lap.

“Ah! I should get goin’ now, I have practice with Oshi-san. Sorry if I disturbed ya before. See ya tomorrow, (Y/N)-chan!” Mika waved to you and you returned the gesture. Once he was out of the room, you sighed in relief, pushing your chair back out again. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed the embroidery you were doing.

A buzz sounded from your blazer pocket, and you pulled out your phone to see your mum calling you. “(Y/N), honey? Are you almost home?” Her voice chirped from the other end of the receiver. “I’m still at school, I was just talking with one of my friends.”

“Do you think you could go to the shops and pick me up some eggs and milk? Your dad and little brother have raided the fridge again.”

“Sure, how many of each?”

“Two dozen eggs and 2 cartons of milk will be plenty. Thanks sweetie!”

The call ended and you began to pack your things away before heading over to the shoe lockers. The shopping district was only a 10-minute walk away from the school, so you were able to make good time.

It was late afternoon but the district still had students and locals bustling around the area, bringing a lively buzz to the atmosphere. You went and grabbed the things that your mum had requested you to buy and decided you’d browse the rest of the stores before heading back home.

A small, quaint shop caught your eye and you walked over to the window to see a gorgeous array of embroidery designs, coloured threads, and fabrics displayed behind the glass. ‘I don’t recall this being here the last time I visited the shopping district…maybe it’s a new shop,” you pondered to yourself.

“Eh? Is that (Y/N)-san over there by that shop?”

“Mm…I’m tired…carry me Maa-kun~”

As you were standing around, lost in your thoughts, Mao and Ritsu happened to spot you on your little window shopping spree, and the two of them walked, well more like the maroon haired boy half dragged his lethargic companion, over.

At the sound of footsteps, you turned your head up out of your daze. “Oh, Mao-kun, Ritsu-kun, um, what brings you here?” You asked, instinctively moving away from the shop window, worried they might ask you what you were looking at. Mao gave you a tired grin, “I was taking Sleeping Beauty here back home but he kept pestering me that he wanted a soda, and the closest drinks vending machine was in the shopping district, so here we are.”

You nodded as Mao heaved Ritsu’s arm around his shoulder, effectively trying to keep the ravenette standing up. “What about…you (Y/N)-chan? What were you…doing here…?” Ritsu slumped more of his body weight onto his poor childhood friend who really couldn’t do much except put up with it.

“I was just picking up some stuff for my mum. We ran out of eggs and milk and she probably wanted to make an omelette tonight,” you replied. “That’s nice of you to do that, I usually help my parents out as well when they need to.” Mao smiled as he held his friend up, the latter looking like he was on the verge of falling asleep whilst standing.

Mao seemed to notice that Ritsu was practically asleep and straightened him again. “Well, I better get going now before Ritchan passes out, later (Y/N)-san!” The Trickstar member proceeded to somehow get the sleepy member of Knights flopped onto his back and carried him off.

"Whew...dodged another bullet...” You were thankful that they didn’t ask you about what you were looking at, otherwise you’d probably freeze up and die on the spot.

Ever since middle school, you had an interest in embroidery, but your classmates often picked on you and called you all sorts of mean nicknames like “granny” or “old lady”. It could have been worse, but you hated that embroidery was stereotyped as a hobby for the elderly.

You sighed for the umpteenth time that day and began your trek back home.

~~~

The next day you sat in the Handicrafts club room again during lunch time, desiring some peace and quiet whilst you worked on your needlework in secret. You were almost done with the final touches, with only a couple of the petals on the last cherry blossom requiring stitching. You were so engrossed in finishing that you didn’t hear someone enter the room behind you since you had your back turned towards the door.

Mika had been searching for you during lunchtime to ask you about his costume which had just been completed today, and you so happened to be sitting in the clubroom like yesterday after school. You hadn’t noticed his presence which gave him the opportunity to walk up behind you to see what you were doing. When he was close enough to peer over your shoulder, his eyes widened at the beautiful, delicately crafted handkerchief, decorated with cherry blossoms and pink petals.

“Wow (Y/N)-chan~! I didn’ realise ya had that kinda talent for embroidery! Looks really nice!”

You immediately flinched and screamed in shock due to being so absorbed in your little workspace. “Waaaaah!! Mika!? What are you doing here!?” You screeched making the black haired boy jump from your outburst. “E-eh!? Ah–‘m sorry! Didn’ think I’d scare ya like that…” He looked down guiltily and you felt bad for shouting at him.

“Wait, no no I’m sorry I shouldn’t have raised my voice like that,” you mumbled, playing with the ends of your hair before realising that you still had your embroidery in your hands for all the world to see. You gasped and quickly tried to hide it but Mika caught your wrist.

“Why’re ya tryin’ to hide yer work? ‘s really pretty to look at yanno?” He grinned at you but you averted your gaze away. “I…uhh…s-so you saw it d-didn’t you…” you stammered, still trying to get the hoop out of vision.

“Was I not s’posed to?”

“N-no…it’s just…”

You took a deep breath in and exhaled it all out again. “Back when I was in middle school, people often teased me about being into embroidery. They would call me things like “granny” or “old lady” and make fun of me for my hobby…” you admitted. Mika listened intently but said nothing. “I guess from all those bad experiences, I’ve always kept this a secret because I was scared of being judged again…”

You felt tears start to prickle in the corner of your eyes. No one in Yumenosaki knew about your passion and you intended to keep it that way.

“(Y/N)-chan.”

“…”

“(Y/N)-chan, look at me would ya?”

You felt Mika’s hands cup both your cheeks and tilt your face upwards to meet his heterochromatic gaze. He used his thumbs to gently brush away at the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes.

“I don’ think yer hobby’s bad at all. ‘n fact, I really respect ya after seein’ yer needlework. ‘m still practicin’ jus’ stitchin’ holes up in clothes but yer out ‘ere makin’ really pretty cloths ‘n stuff.” He gave you a heart-warming smile and let go of your cheeks to grab your hands.

You were shocked to silence. You hadn’t expected anyone to be this understanding.

“Mika…I… ”

You felt an tug on the corner of your lips, only to realise you were smiling. You squeezed his hands in return, feeling a faint blush start to spread across your face.

“Thanks Mika…really, that means a lot to me,” you giggled and the latter scratched his cheek bashfully.

“Ehehe~ ‘s nothin’~”

You smiled again and quickly leaned forward to place a peck on his cheek before standing up to leave. “We should head back soon, class is starting in about 3 minutes,” you grinned, escaping the room and leaving the poor boy in a stunned, flustered mess.

Mika slowly brought it hand up to his cheek, feeling where your lips had been.

“H-huh?! W-wait, (Y/N)-chan!!”

#ensemble stars #enstars #x reader #scenario #fluff #mika kagehira #kagehira mika #mod ann

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ericsonclan · 4 years ago

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Embroider My Heart

Summary: Prisha works on her gift for Violet while the rest of the Ericson pirates all take time to relax, taking a break from traveling the seas.

Word Count: 2514

Read on AO3:

“You’re going to what?” Brody looked up from her spot by the mast.

“Violet and I are gonna show off our ankles to fuck with the guards,” Mitch smiled proudly towards his love. Brody blinked in disbelief. True it had been ages since that incident happened with Violet, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to let them get tossed in jail.

“Violet, I’m going into town with you instead of Mitch,” Brody rose up from her spot and stretched out her arms.

“Okay,” Violet gave a shrug as she readjusted her eyepatch.

“What?!?” Mitch looked over at Brody with big eyes. “But-” He paused when Brody leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“You can go into port next time, okay?”

Mitch blushed a bit, looking away as he nodded. “Okay, just be careful,” He reached out and held Brody’s hand.

The auburn pirate smiled and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I will,” Brody captured Mitch’s lips in a kiss that made the pirate’s heart practically melt from happiness. She pulled back and slowly let go of her love’s hand before going to her friend who was busy talking with Prisha.

“We’ll be back by sunset,” Violet told Prisha who gave a short nod as she rubbed a circle on top of Violet’s hand.

“Alright, I’ll look forward to it,” Prisha smiled lovingly at her wife. Violet returned the smile and got on her tiptoes to steal a quick kiss from Prisha. That made the taller pirate blush and she gave another kiss to Violet before looking over at Brody. “Seems my time is up.”

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Brody looked over with a kind expression and Prisha gave a nod before kissing Violet’s hand.

“I’ll see you later,” Violet could feel her face growing warm at the romantic gesture Prisha had made.

With that the pair of friends were off, talking happily as they strolled down the dock. Small parts of their conversation could be heard as they traveled off of Ol’ Kickass. It was clear that both were excited to check out the shops and spend some time together.

Prisha watched them for a moment then spun around quickly and headed below decks. She quietly snuck into the sleeping quarters and made her way to her hammock. She paused for a second when Aasim shifted in his hammock before feeling Ruby’s arm around him and settling once more.

Prisha let out a soft sigh of relief that she hadn’t woken up the couple. She knew how hard those two had been working since the last encounter they’d had on the sea. They deserved all the time together that they desired and the peace that came with it.

Her hand lifted up the small chest under her hammock and the pirate began to rummage around for a few items. When she had found the first one she set it down before working to find the others. After a few minutes she had gotten all she needed: A black eyepatch with the beginnings of a design on it along with some different colored thread and a needle. Prisha struggled for a moment to balance all the items in her one hand then began to make her way above deck.

As soon as she had reached the upper deck of Ol’ Kickass Prisha could see that everyone was enjoying the time off the rocky waves of the seven seas to their fullest. Mitch was having a sparring match with AJ while Omar sat off to the side watching and commenting on it as he peeled some potatoes. Sophie was busy moving around amongst the rigging before she paused, hooking her legs into the ropes and dangling upside down. She said something to Marlon who laughed and moved closer to the redhead. With a playful smile Sophie leaned forward and cupped her love’s face, pulling him into a soft kiss before moving back and beginning to climb up to the crow’s nest. Her leather braces shone in the sun as she swung this way and that towards the tippy top of the ship.

Allison was still on watch duty in the crow’s nest. Her stoic expression remained the same until she raised an eyebrow as Sophie appeared beside her. The two pirates discussed something for a moment when suddenly Prisha’s attention was pulled away by an energetic voice.

“Prisha!” Willy ran forward and gave a bright smile. “Is it embroidery time?” He froze for a second, his eyes glancing around this way and that.

“It’s fine, Willy. Violet went into town with Brody.” Prisha’s words made Willy’s shoulders relax.

“Whew, that's good. I’d hate if I ruined the surprise,” Willy let out a sigh of relief then looked back at his friend. “So, ready to get started?”

“Sure,” Prisha walked alongside the teen and they soon found a spot to begin the work. Willy diligently held the thread for Prisha as she figured out how much more blue she needed for the wave part of the embroidery. Once she was certain she gave a nod and Willy cut the thread before holding the needle for her. Prisha stuck the end of the thread in her mouth and studied the eye of the needle carefully as she navigated the string through it. After a moment that was done and Willy switched jobs with Prisha as he tied the ends of thread together. When that was all done, Prisha began to work on the eyepatch. It had been a spur of the moment idea for a gift one time when she had gone into town with Clementine. Her good friend had suggested that she go for it when she saw how excited Prisha was at the idea of a handmade gift for Violet. So Prisha had gone for it and now she was getting closer to finishing the design.

It was thanks to Willy and his willingness to help that she was able to even do this. She glanced over at the teen and reminded herself to thank him for all his hard work when this was done. Her eyes studied Willy’s for a moment and followed their gaze up to the crow’s nest. Allison was still up there, her dark eyes looking off towards the port town below.

“You seem rather fond of Allison,” Prisha’s statement of observation made Willy look over towards her.

“Yeah, she’s super badass,” Willy gave a toothy smile then looked back at the girl. “Allie seems like she’s really starting to fit in.”

“She does, doesn’t she,” Prisha nodded and began another stitch before looking up at the topic of their conversation. The first few months with Allison hadn’t been the easiest. It was clear that the slaver ship that she had been a part of had scarred her deeper than her skin. Even though she had been deeply hurt she had a soft kindness to her. It was a slow process to get to it, but the Ericson pirates had successfully found it.

Prisha resumed her embroidery and continued to make the decorative waves. She had grown fond of Allison too. It seemed like she clicked with Prisha and Violet rather well even if she still had her prickly edges. Prisha’s mind continued to focus on that until she needed to switch to another thread color for the next part of the eyepatch. As she worked to rethread the needle, a new voice appeared and began to sing a tune.

“Theeeeere once was a ship that put to sea. The name of the ship was the Billy of Tea!” The voice belonged to the captain. Louis spun around on his feet and gave a wink to Clementine who laughed as she watched him continue. “The winds blew up, her bow dipped down. O blow, my bully boys, blow. Soon may the Wellerman come to bring us sugar and tea and rum. One day, when the tonguin’ is done we’ll take our leave and go.” Louis sang to his heart’s content, clearly happy to finally have a more upbeat sea shanty in his repertoire.

He moved forward and tried to get his love to join in dancing, but Clementine waved a hand and motioned to her peg leg. Louis gave a smile and nodded before spinning around and spotting his best friend. Jogging over, the captain grabbed Marlon and soon the pair were singing the sea shanty together.

“She had not been two weeks from hire when down on her a right whale bore. The captain called all hands and swore he’d take that whale in tow.” The two pirates sang together in relative harmony. “Soon may the Wellerman come to bring us sugar and tea and rum. One day, when the tonguin’ is done we’ll take our leave and go.” Marlon and Louis laughed as they continued to sing, the duo kicking their feet and locking their arms together as they danced around. Clementine laughed and clapped her hands in time to the beat of the shanty. After a few minutes the song was done and Louis went over to give Clementine a quick kiss on the cheek before he started up another shanty with Marlon.

Prisha smiled and shook her head before returning to her own work. She had to focus if she wanted it all done with time to spare before Violet got back with Brody. So the pirate continued to work on the gift for her love.

After some time she finished the second huge part of the embroidery design. Willy looked on in awe and gave a compliment or two here and there before moving to help thread the needle one last time. Prisha’s hand moved delicately as she worked on the last section of the eyepatch. All of her focus remained on the task at hand and after many painstaking details she had finished. Prisha let out a shaky breath and let Willy cut the thread as she leaned her head back.

“It’s so cool, Prisha!” Willy held up the eyepatch that had the rolling waves of the seven seas embroidered upon it. An orange sea creature lurked ominously within the waves. On top of the largest wave was a small ship hoping to overcome the impossible obstacle before it. “Violet is gonna think it's the coolest shit ever!” Willy looked over to his side with a smile. “Right, Allie?”

Prisha glanced up and saw that the newest member of the pirates was standing beside Willy. She stared at the eyepatch intently then gave a short nod. “It’s cool,” Allison had a faint smile on her face that soon disappeared as she looked towards the sea for a second. “Willy, wanna spar?” Willy’s eyes grew large at those words and he jumped up to his feet. “Yeah! That sounds so awesome! Is that okay, Prisha?”

“Yes, the eyepatch is done so you two should have fun,”

Prisha’s confirmation made the smile reappear on Allison’s face for a split second before she turned and began to walk away. Willy gave a final wave then ran after the girl. Prisha watched them for a few minutes as Willy picked up a wooden training dagger and held it out before him as he said some sort of confident boast. Allison shook her head then held out her training sword, her form and the way she held the blade unique to her.

Prisha placed down the embroidery supplies and watched the teens spar. It was fairly evenly matched at first but soon Willy’s overexcitement was his undoing and Allison’s patience had paid off as she disarmed him. It didn’t seem to faze Willy though as he hopped up and asked for another match. Allison agreed; after a few more matches the pair was tired and they ventured back near where Prisha was. Willy waved goodbye to Allison before jogging off to help Mitch. Leaving only Allison and Prisha. The teen silently sat beside Prisha before picking up the thread and studying it.

“Do you care to learn embroidery?” Prisha looked over at Allison who simply shook her head.

“I’d rather find some rocks,”

Prisha nodded. “I’ve noticed that you’ve got quite the collection.”

“They’re cool and make a good weapon,” Allison stated simply then looked over at the shore where a nearby cave stood.

“If you’d like, Violet and I could walk with you to search for some new rocks for your collection.” Prisha caught sight of the soft smile on Allison's face before she gave a short shrug.

“Okay,” Allison glanced up towards the docks “They’re back.”

Prisha’s eyes shot up and her face lit with joy when she saw Violet make her way onto the deck with Brody. The pirate immediately got up to her feet and grabbed the eyepatch before making her way over. Mitch was already there and had tackled Brody with a hug. He always seemed a bit clingier whenever his wife was gone, even if it was for a short amount of time. Brody laughed and soon the two were making their way across the deck so she could show him what she had gotten at the shops. Violet watched for a moment when she heard a voice.

“Violet,” Prisha stopped in front of Violet, her hand tucked behind her back.

“Hey, Prisha,” Violet looked up at her wife with a soft expression. “I got something for you.” Violet held out her hand which held an oak hourglass with small, intricate designs on the pillars around the glass.

Prisha’s eyes sparkled in curiosity as she stared at the hourglass. “Violet, it’s beautiful,” Her hand moved forward to grab it when she remembered she had a gift of her own. “I actually have a gift for you too.” That made the blonde pirate’s eyebrows raise as she looked at her love. Prisha moved her hand from behind her back and revealed the embroidered eyepatch. Violet’s eyes widened in surprise. “Holy shit,” She placed down the hourglass beside Prisha then took the eyepatch. Silently she switched out her standard black eyepatch and began to tie the new one in its place. “So how does it look?” Violet gave a small smile up to her wife. Prisha’s heart did a little flip in her chest.

“Like the most fearsome pirate in all the Seven Seas,”

Prisha’s words made Violet look away and awkwardly rub the back of her neck. “I doubt it,”

“I know it,” Her encouragement made the blonde look up back at her. The taller pirate gently took her love’s hands into her own and placed a kiss on them. Violet blushed and smiled shyly up at Prisha.

“If anyone can help out, I could use some help for dinner,” Omar’s voice rang out from below decks.

“We should probably help,” Prisha looked over at the staircase then back at Violet.

“Yeah,” Violet knelt down and grabbed the hourglass before using her free hand to hold Prisha’s as the two walked towards the staircase and continued forth to help with supper, the perfect close to a pleasant day.

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bettycooperoutfitwatch · 5 years ago

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3x20 Chapter Fifty-Five: Prom Night

I shall now attempt to get a decent screenshot of Betty’s prom attire.

But first—as we so often seem to—we pick up not long after we left off, with Betty still in the black windowpane check sweater and the snug tan-colored pants; now topped with her funeral gloves and that black check trench-coat. Windowpane on windowpane.

A nice look at the texture on this coat! And a clearer glimpse at the rear-pleats—so pleatiful.

I’m almost certain that by this point in the show’s run, Ms. Reinhart is wearing hair extensions. As a person who also has endured artificially blonde hair that’s been damaged by heat, I feel honestly soothed on her behalf. Anyway—it’s perhaps more noticeable during the prom scenes, but you can sort of tell by her ponytail here, too. I love behind-the-scenes stuff.

I absolutely wore a long-sleeve shirt with this print in, like, 2003. This is a sweater, though, with slightly fluttery cuffs and hem, paired with some very dark-wash jeans. These might even be black, but I feel like there’s the subtlest hint of indigo still in them. Suitable for a girl whose dad just died (ostensibly).

Fuck off this is cute.

(Note the hem, cuffs.)

The silhouette is very Betty but there’s a...velour vibe to it that I don’t even know what to do with. It’s got some tartan, and she is working closely with Jughead here, so... It remains an oddity to me. Maybe she’s off-balance. I wouldn’t blame her, given the events of the episode.

Even Jug can tell something is off. I mean, ostensibly her dad did just die. Ostensibly.

Additionally—completely forgot about this new Serpent hangout space the gang slapped together out of a former Gargoyle den (214). I was thinking this was the Jones-formerly-Cooper basement.

This varsity jacket is new to us, more on it later.

Look at the conviction in her eyes, I love when Betty is convinced she’s got it figured out.

Not the first time we’ve seen Betty in something ever-so-abstractly animal print, and also not the last. Notably, these are both moments in which her...conviction, shall we say, is tested.

A l e w k. The tartan of the mini is very Betty-&-Jug, but the scallops are Ms. B Cooper. The coloring is Betty-but-darker, if you will. She’s not Miss Baby Pink Betty Cooper, and she hasn’t been that for a long time.

Backpack 2.0.

The palette is also a gesture forwards to her prom gown.

(Faces.)

Your Prom Queen. Vote Betty Cooper.

There’s a vibe, alright?

I’m not even going to engage with the question as to how the denizens of Riverdale have such plentiful ren faire attire so close at hand (Edit: You know what, let’s call it the Stars Hollow Principle). It’s all very generically ‘medieval’ or ‘renaissance,’ but this prom—and Gryphons & Gargoyles—is not about historical accuracy. This is Eldervair.

Let’s just role the outfit footage, Jimmy, and appresh the hard work of the wardrobe department.

Echoes of 111.

There are also some very intentional callbacks to young Alice and the Midnight Club’s Fizzle Rock-fueled revelry throughout this set piece, some subtle (a Tears for Fears soundtrack), some less-so (actual footage of Ms. Reinhart as Alice Smith from 304):

She s t i l l has Ms. Grundy’s gun.

She superrrr wisely kicks off her shoes early on in this chase, pls see bottom right.

This feels like a very Canadian blanket. Am I crazy? Hudson Bay vibes? Canada, come thru.

Riverdale.

I have NO idea what to even think about this sequin dinosaur t-shirt. This is fckn wild. Betty finally acquiesces to coming under the protection of the Farm, now that Black Hood Hal is afoot again, so perhaps this goes to explain whatever is going on here outfit-wise.

I’ve been watching so much Succession recently that I want to say she’s finally ‘coming in,’ a la Shiv Roy.

Note the “Coach” embroidery on her left breast. This bomber is reversible, we’ll see it again in season 4.

Whew. That’s a resigned face.

Summary: Seven outfits (not including the 304 flashback)

That backpack?: Backpack 2.0 still around

Best outfit: Let’s say scalloped crop-top and tartan mini

#3x20 #s3 #riverdale #betty cooper outfit watch #betty cooper

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aria-i-adagio · 5 years ago

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Ch. 20: Drill a Tiny Hole Into Your Head

Fandom: The Arcana

Chapter Rating: PG-13, with caveats

Wordcount: 6200

Trigger warning: The marked coda continues a mention of self harm and a suicide reference. There is a non detailed summary of the coda at the end in italics.

Masterpost Previous Chapter Next Chapter

A/N: Many thanks to @ilyarium for co-writing the scene with Nadia and part of the court.

Portia returns shortly and shoves a pile of clothing into Asra’s arms as she kicks the door shut behind her. “Whew! You showed up at just the right time. Asra, is it? I’ve heard about you. Next room, through that door, get changed.” She gives him a little shove to the door that connects the room, and with another charismatic grin, Asra complies with the force of nature than is Portia.

With a sigh, she turns back to me and bustles across the room to the wardrobe. “I thought we were done for. Good thing your friend showed up.” She holds up a dress, considers it for a moment, then puts it away, before choosing another. I spare a moment to wonder exactly when the wardrobe got stocked with clothing in my size. “Dema, you’re right, by the way, he’s prettier than anyone has any right to be.”

“I told Julian to go to your cottage.”

“I hope he remembers the directions. And he’s sneaky as anything, but if he runs into guards . . . well.” Portia bites her lip, looking worried. “I suppose I’ll hear about it if he does. Your friend, Asra, is he an ally?”

I glance away, then look back to her. “Close enough. He wouldn’t turn Julian in, but there was something between them and that something went sideways.” I start undoing the fastening of the outfit I’m currently wearing.

“Can't imagine my brother being involved in something that went sideways.” Portia picks out a third dress, pale blue with green embroidery and decorative lacing. “Well, this will do. Bring out your eyes.” She tosses the dress over my head.

There’s a knock on the door connecting the rooms. Asra. I yell back permission for him to come in. Portia arches her eyebrows at me and begins tightening the ribbons that lace up the front of the bodice. I glance over at Asra, he’s wearing loose cream pants and a violet tunic. How Portia found one that matches his eyes perfectly in under fifteen minutes is well beyond my powers of comprehension.

His eyes run up and down my body, and he smiles. “You look nice in that. Different. But nice.”

“You too. Your clothes match for once.”

He laughs. “Yes, Nadia always puts together my best looks.”

Portia coughs. “Yeah, about that.” She finishes with the laces on my dress and pushes my hair out of my face. “I think I’m just going to brush out your hair and leave it down tonight. Pretty that way.”

“I think Portia picked that out for you.”

“Ah, well.” He has the grace to blush. “Nadia has competition then. Thank you, Portia.”

“You’re welcome.” She starts working a brush through my hair from the ends up then pins it back from her face. “I’ve learned a few things from Milady.” She steps back and looks at my face carefully before pulling a lock of my hair loose from the pins. “Perfect. You know your way to the dining room by now? I need to go check in on my grannie.” She winks at me.”

“Yeah, I understand. Thanks, Portia.”

***

I expect another dinner where Nadia is the only member of the court in attendance, but when Asra and I enter the table is set for five. It’s as elaborate as ever with the multiple stemmed glasses and the myriad of utensils that I’m still not sure how to use. Worse than any potential specter of a faux pas with the silverware, Valdemar haunts the table, standing perfectly still behind one of the chairs, with their eyes closed in what might be meditation. Or could be meditation if I thought I could ascribe anything so benign to them. Why are they here? Do they even eat?

Asra stops short when he sees them and tightens his hand in mine before recovering himself. He leans close to my ear, whispering. “Nadia hasn’t gotten rid of them yet?”

“It’s complicated. You know them?”

“Ah, witch, it seems we meet again.”

I sigh in relief when I hear Valerius’s voice. He’s standing near the sideboard helping himself to a glass of wine. An ally, at least, I think he’s an ally even if his face is schooled into his usual expression of haughty disdain. “Or, I suppose, witches, since there are two of you now.”

“Consul.” Asra’s voice is cool. Valerius must not rank particularly high on his list of preferred people. Presumably though, he rates a bit higher than Valdemar.

"Asra, was it?" The way Valerius pronounces the name is off, long and short vowels confused, like there are some more h's hidden in there, and I wonder just how much of a kick he gets from teasing without making it obvious. Quite a bit of a thrill, if I had to guess.

Eyes rolling, Asra corrects him, changing the vowels back to what they should be, redoubling my sense that this is some sort of long running game between them that only Valerius enjoys.

"Would you like some wine, witches?" Judging by Asra’s irritated exhale, this is not how it usually goes.

I wonder what ritualized little jab Asra didn't get to insert into the conversation. My eyes dart back to the table where the Quaestor is still posed, then nod to Valerius. Wine would help. "Yes, I would." There's another irritated noise from Asra, as Valerius overfills a glass and puts it in my hand.

Then, he looks at me again, a raised brow that tells me politely that he is slightly amused about the people I choose to spend my time with, and then he pours another glass and offers it to Asra with a minute change to his expression. No smile, but not a scowl either. Amusement, but not true disdain. "They are easier to bear with this." He’s probably talking about the Quaestor, or is he?

Asra takes the glass, still scowling, but at least he isn’t placing some sort of hex on Valerius's wine. He glances over at the Quaestor. "Why are they here?”

"Maybe the Countess invited them. Who am I to doubt her ways? Or maybe they simply decided to hibernate here and the staff set a place for them? Would you want to be the one to try to get them to leave?” The slightest shrug. “When I arrived, they already were like that, and did not react to my greeting." Perhaps we can hope Valdemar might just stay this way - unmoving, silent, and dead to the world. Awkward enough, but probably less of a damper on the conversation than their participation would be.

"Valerius, I need to ask you something?”

"Another question, little witch?” If he's intending to maintain an air of scorn for me, it isn't going too well. He says witch with a noticeable touch of a smile, like it's a friendly nickname, not an insult. I’m willing to accept it as such. Beside me, Asra raises his eyebrows at the hint of familiarity.

"Have you heard anything about Lucio haunting the palace?” I want to ask him if he's dreamed of Lucio along with the nocturnal visitations from the Hierophant that he won’t openly admit to, but I know that there's no way he'd even acknowledge that question, not in front of Asra, or anyone.

He arches an eyebrow at me, then readjusts his expression to its usual slightly pissed state. "Of course, I've heard things about hauntings. The servants also claim that a headless woman walks the halls at midnight." He hesitates for a moment. "Superstition. No more."

Two guards open the doors and Nadia enters. She seems surprised for a moment when she sees Valdemar frozen by a chair but recovers quickly, and lets her gaze pass over him to Valerius. "Ah, Consul, I see you found the aperitifs. I had the kitchen build the menu around the wine list, instead of the reverse." A small smile graces her face. A jest rather than an insult then? Or at least intended to be such.

"You spoil us, Countess." He bows courteously to the Countess, form perfect. "It's very commendable you decided to make this a working dinner instead of a simple meeting."

"Yes, yes. Far more pleasant, even if I far the topic at hand is less than merry." A servant pulls out her chair for her and gestures for us to join her at the table. Asra shooes me away from the seat across Valdemar, taking it himself and leaving me at Nadia's right hand and across from Valerius. I catch him making gestures to ward off the evil eye under the table.

Valdemar appears to go from standing to sitting, perfectly poised, without moving at all. "Ah, the guests have arrived. Countess. It is a pleasure, as it always is. Consul." The thinnest smile, a sickle in a sickly face. They look like a corpse fished out one of the canals. "You have found the wine, Consul. Of course you have. Have I not told you what it does to your system?"

"You have, Quaestor, in greatest and unappetizing detail, thank you." Valerius takes a sip just to make a point about the value he ascribes to their opinion.

"It's an excellent choice to speak over dinner, Nadia. Thank you." I feel the need to establish myself as allied with Valerius; although, I suspect that is a flimsy shield indeed.

"It’s my pleasure." She gestures to servants to place the first course on the table. "I am also pleased that you have returned to us after your absence. I'll confess to fearing that you might have abandoned the investigation. But instead -" She inclines her head to Asra. "You seem to have brought reinforcements."

"I wonder if that will lead to more success than the disappointments she has managed thus far.” Valdemar steeples their fingers in front of them, ignoring the food on the table. “Speaking of such: you were the cause of the horrible mess in the late count's quarters?" Still the sharp smile on their harshly angled face.

Nadia arches an eyebrow at me. I wish I knew exactly what Portia had told her about our adventure yesterday. Or had Valdemar discovered the broken statue and mirror on their own? That would raise some questions. Why were they in the Count’s wing?

"I have been asked to look into the Count's murder. Observing the scene of the crime might seem to be necessary for that work."

"Just observing?" A dry chuckle, and they hold a still gloved hand in front of their mouth politely. Valerius shoots me a questioning glance.

Asra's hand on my knee suggests that he's giving me much the same look as Valerius. "Yes, I observed a couple of hounds who have been neglected for far too long. They're a bit unruly." It was a true statement. Something makes me think that the Quaestor is the kind of fey creature that can smell a lie. But maybe not a half truth.

"I am sure you gave them a good, ehem, petting. Perhaps a game of tug of war?"

"Quaestor, this is not very constructive, and certainly not what Her Excellency intended." Valerius manages to sound bored by their implications about what I might have been up to Lucio’s chambers. “Please focus on your findings.”

Nadia clears her throat. "I've decided that Lucio's wing has been in a state of disrepair for quite long enough, but it seemed prudent to have the Quaestor go through it one last time for any physical evidence. Which they did this morning."

I suppress the part of me that wants to ask Nadia just why she considered Valdemar to be trustworthy by stabbing at the stuffed pasta dish in front of me. While the wing certainly was a mess, how did they know that the damage was recent, much less had anything to do with me? Unless . . . Had Lucio’s ghost told them?

We - or rather four of us - eat in silence while Valdemar explains their findings: shattered mirrors and the remnants of some design drawn in blood, ashes strewn across the floor, a mess on the bed, and three sets of footprints. As they do, they continue to shoot me oh so very innocent looks. I want to keep my eyes on my plate, but I suspect that’s a bad idea. Nadia might catch on that I’m hiding something.

Asra is getting more agitated by the minute, and I know I'm going to hear about this later. Especially after Valdemar mentioned blood. Valerius keeps glancing at me from across the table, and I wonder for a moment if he's confused card reader with psychic and expects me to somehow communicate with him wordlessly. The servants pick up the plates, including the one that Valdemar hasn't touched, and Nadia leans forward with the deadly simple question I had hoped she wouldn't ask. "I know Portia and Dema went Lucio’s chambers. Who was the third?"

The Consul leans back in his chair and folds his hands in front of him. There's the slightest of nods in my direction - he knows who the third set of prints being to - before he says one word.

"Me."

"You?" I never would have expected to hear Nadia, Asra and Valdemar speak in unison.

"The witch asked me to come along and witness to her shenanigans. I told her pointedly I'd rather not, but she convincingly mentioned my assistance would be the will of Her Excellency as soon as she was informed, and it would be less trouble for both of us if I just came along."

I shrug and do my best to smile innocently. "It really would have wasted time if Portia or I had needed to come find you, my lady." I'm not sure how I'm ever going to afford an adequate bottle of wine to repay the Consul, but that's a problem for later.

"Forgive me for not mentioning it, Your Excellency. I found it shameful enough as it was and would gladly never have entered those rooms again, even if I have to admit it was quite the experience. I do hope, my esteemed Quaestor, that you will not try to accuse me of taking active part in any occult silliness, will you?"

"Oh, dearest Consul, I would never. Your blood is far too thin to be of any use in things like that." Horribly pointy teeth gleam in the candlelight.

"It's hardly silly if blood is involved," Asra mutters.

I kick him under the table and hope that no one notices. Now’s not the time. That conversation is coming. It’s just one I want to have in private.

"But to the point, Quaestor, did you find anything that might lead us to an understanding of the events surrounding my husband's murder?”

"I might have, Your Excellency, if your guest would not have done her utmost to disturb the crime scene. I honestly wonder why the Consul did not stop her from destroying evidence."

"Oh, my esteemed colleague, the answer is a rather simple one. It has been three years, and, in all that time, none of your efforts have come to fruition. I highly doubted trying a less . . . well-trodden path could lead to even fewer results."

Valerius gulps down a significant portion of his wine, forgetting in his irritation to be pretentious. The Quaestor simply smiles at me, teeth clicking together. "Perhaps I could interview the witch about the state of the wing prior to her . . . escapades. Yes, that might be most informative. Investigate the investigator."

Asra twirls a table knife between his fingers, and I wonder just how sharp an edge he's magicked it into. "That doesn't seem necessary."

"Oh, I do think it highly necessary. Who really knows what her intentions are?" They smile at me, all sharp teeth and malice, while Valerius raises his chin in disgust and takes another pointed sip of his wine as if to reiterate just how little he cares for Valdemar’s opinion.

"Do you doubt, Valdemar, that Her Excellency chose the most apt person for the job?" His anger is still well subdued, but he lets it shine through enough that we all notice it. Valdemar seems delighted to get a rise out of him.

They titter and lean over the table toward me, chin resting on their folded hands. "Oh, I trust that the Countess has chosen a most remarkable person for the job." I feel their gaze creeping over my skin, and shiver, grabbing under the table for Asra's hand and whatever reassurance is there. "You're a fascinating little manikin, witch. Almost perfect. What I'd give to examine you more closely."

"Are you trying to find out if she's got plans for the night, Quaestor, or are you here to listen to her findings up in the rooms?" The Consul’s voice is stern. He’s entirely fed up with them and has been for no small amount of time.

Beside me Asra has gone from spinning the knife to holding it like a bar room scrapper, and I think I can see frost forming along the edge. If I don't do something to stop this, I'm afraid he will. And something tells me that attacking Valdemar will not end well for any of us. "Countess, I would be happy to speak with you regarding the state of the Count's rooms, but I won't be subjected to this."

“Your behavior is entirely unbecoming to a member of the court, Quaestor. I do not appreciate my guests being treated like this.”

"I concur." Valerius fingers his wine and stands. "Your Excellency, if you agree, I will see the Quaestor to their lab. I'm sure you will inform them about any information you deem necessary for them to know."

"You will not finish eating with us?"

"My compliments to the kitchen, but I don't quite have the right appetite for such a scrumptious meal at this time of day. Should anything remain, please have the staff bring it to my rooms." Valerius waits two heartbeats more to give her time to refuse his offer, then rises to make his exit.

"Yes, Consul, please see the Quaestor back to their lab." Nadia narrows her eyes at the second courtier and lowers her tone to one that sounds dangerous. "Valdemar, you are dismissed."

They rise from their chair with a single fluid movement and smile at me again before pointedly walking past Valerius and out of the dining room. Valerius nods at me and then follows them out. Asra sets down his knife, visibly relaxed now than Valerius and Valdemar have disappeared, and the Countess covers her face with hand.

"Truly, Dema, I apologise for their behavior."

"It was their behavior, not yours."

"Still, they work in my name. It is not acceptable, not anymore. If my late husband found that appropriate - well, good on him, but I don't."

I wish those are not just empty words.

"So, what did the three of you find? Or shall I call for Portia too, to get more honest answers?" She smiles as she looks up again, her eyes softer than they were a moment before.

"It's, um, true that we did rather make a mess of things. Or rather . . ." I'm not entirely sure what to tell her, and I haven't had a chance to discuss it with Asra - or Portia, and . . . I grab my glass and take a deep drink of the wine. "Have you heard the servants speak of that wing being haunted?"

She nods. "Oh, of course they do. I've taken it as a given they would, given the nature of the Count’s death."

"It's not superstition in this case." I catch myself rubbing my shoulder, the one Lucio's cold hand rested on. "The Count's ghost is very much haunting that wing."

"So he can't even die right." Her crimson eyes roll. "As useless at being dead as he was at being alive."

"Perhaps not. We, um, Portia and I thought he might remember the circumstances of his death." I'm almost stammering as badly as Julian. Without knowing what Portia had already told her, and I don't doubt it's something, it's hard to know what to say. "So that was the purpose of going into the Count's wing."

"But he was too drunk or high or sick to remember?" There's a tone in her voice that makes me almost feel sorry for the dead man. Not much love lost there. It must have been a miserable marriage.

"I'm not sure. I didn't get a final answer. He got a bit . . . distracted."

"Sounds about right for him," Asra comments. "How strong is he? Can he manifest in his own?”

"I used a spell, but he was strong enough to shatter a mirror after, and a statue."

Asra's eyebrows knit together in concern at the mention of a summoning spell, and I suspect he's putting that information together with Valdemar's mention of blood. He doesn’t seem so much unhappy with or disappointed in me, as he is worried. I slid my hand into his above the table this time, with only Nadia here, I feel no need to hide the gesture.

She notices and smiles. "And may I ask why you decided to take along Valerius? Of all people? He never struck me as particularly receptive to spirits that aren't liquid." She allows herself a short chuckle, and Asra joins in. I repress a stab of irritation at the both of them, other than Portia, Valerius has been the most willing to help me. But at least, the Countess found it credible, if laughable, that I took him along, which is more than expected.

"Precisely for that reason. Who better for a witness than a known skeptic?” It seemed a reasonable enough explanation.

"Would it be possible to rouse Lucio again?”

Asra breaks in. "I suspect the spell Dema used isn't one that should be repeated."

"Do you have a better one, dear Asra?"

"I have an idea." His hand tightens around mine as if to reassure me that he isn't angry. "Strong emotions can cause a spirit to manifest. And Lucio was also temperamental. So, perhaps, we can provoke him."

"And then? What do you intend to do then?"

"I still think he may know more than he told me." I'm not sure I particularly relish the notion of provoking Lucio's spirit, much less rousing him. But Asra was correct that using blood again would be a bad idea, especially mine. The chance of Lucio developing a connection to a specific person was high.

"Do you really think this is a good idea? Lucio was . . . not especially kind when he was angry. Everything but that, really." Nadia doesn't look too happy with the prospect.

Asra shrugs. "It might also provide an opportunity to banish him, if he's still lingering once you've finished cleaning and renovating."

"I . . . I need to think about it." For the first time, the usually proud woman seems to be hesitant. Is Lucio that much of a threat when he's really angry? He did threaten to rip Portia's head off, and Julian's reaction suggested that it wasn't an idle threat. Besides, simply mentioning Asra's name had caused him to shatter a mirror, and there was still the question of Asra and his dead lover. Even if Julian wasn't implicated in the events of three years ago, we might not like what we find out from him.

"It is entirely your decision, Nadia, and we will not try to convince you of anything you are not sure about." Asra's voice is calm, and I briefly think of him explaining difficult facts to children, which doesn’t seem quite right as regards the Countess. "There's a certain risk, but I think I’m able to handle whatever he can throw at us."

The Countess sighs. "Let's see what happens when I send in servants to clear the area. For now, go rest. You must have a lot to catch each other up on."

***

When we get back to the room, there’s a bottle of liquor enticing me from the corner table. Extra tantalizing after dealing with Valdemar. I pour a drink for myself and offer the bottle to Asra who shakes his head. I shrug and splash another finger of liquid into the glass before tossing it back. It burns my throat. It’s something that I understand.

Asra wraps his arms around me from behind. I sink back against him, letting him tuck my head under his chin. Enigmatic as he is, he’s still the only constant in my fractured mind. Faust coils herself around both of us, radiating contentment. “This isn't exactly what I had in mind when I said try to stay out of trouble.”

“Which part of this?” The past few days and nights have been a whirlwind of trouble, and I know it.

“Any of it. Getting involved with Nadia - with Ilya. Did both of you just impulsively decide that you’re back together again?”

His concerns are the exact opposite of mine. He seems to trust Nadia - far more than I do. And Julian, or Ilya, is some sort of threat, either to me, or what Asra wants from me, or to both. At least, insofar as Asra understands the situation.

“Asra, I trust him. I know it doesn't make sense, but I feel like I've known him longer than a few days. Longer than I have memories for.”

“That's just the kind of drama he loves: tempestuous parting and a picturesque reunion.”

I huff in irritation and shrug out of his arms. Faust comes with me, curling around my neck and bumping her head against my chin. “And what about the two of you? He thinks you cursed you?”

“Cursed him? Do you really think I would put a curse on someone?”

“No.” Well, maybe. I’m not entirely sure what Asra actually is capable of doing. “What did happen between the two of you?”

“We were together for a bit. While you -”

“While me what?”

A long pause and yet another deflection. “I couldn't actually give him what he wanted.”

“So it was just sex for you?”

“Not qui- dammit - yes. I'm sure he does care for you, but he couldn't - he can't take care of you.”

“What do you mean by couldn't?”

“He let you -” Asra bites of his words and turns away from me, pressing his fingers to the window. “He didn't keep you safe.” I want to ask what he didn't keep me safe from, but I know I won't get an answer. Probably only more questions.

“Maybe I don't need someone to take care of me.” It's neither a lie nor quite the truth. I can keep myself fed, clothed, and so on and so forth, but I also can pace the streets for days at a time, an inner monologue breaking through as nearly incoherent mumbles, until Asra finds me, pulls me home and holds me until I sleep. “I'm not a child, Asra!”

“That's not . . . That's not what I meant.”

“Asra?”

“What?”

“Why do you take care of me?” The first few months I remember are broken and foggy, but I know I wasn’t well. Not quite helpless, but there would have been no way that I could have fended for myself. And the times I've been . . . ill since then.

“Because I’m the one who got you into this, this . . .” His voice trails off when he can’t find the word he wants. “And I can’t figure out how to get you out of it.”

A long pause. I want another drink. I want to know just what ‘this’ is that he can’t get me out of. I want him to answer a goddamn question. I touch a hand to his shoulder instead of pouring another shot. Better tactic. Perhaps.

“Asra, you said we were lovers. What did lovers mean?”

“It meant -” He turns around, he hands are shaking. “It meant that we always came home to each other. Dema -”

Do you still love me? I feel the words on my lips. I cut him off, cut myself off before I can ask that question. “I need to sleep.” Faust slides down my arm. I hold out my hand. Asra’s fingers touch mine as she crawls across to him.

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

I bite my lip, torn between wanting his familiar presence and overwhelming irritation with him. But I’ve slept well enough alone, curled around a pillow instead of him during the many, many times he’s left me alone. “No. Not right now.”

Later, when my thoughts won’t stop chasing their own tails in my skull, I push open the door between our rooms and pad softly across the carpeted floor to where Asra is sprawled across the bed. When I slide in next to him, he rolls onto his side and wraps an arm around me, mumbling groggily. “Can’t sleep?”

I shake my head. “Too many thoughts.”

“What are you thinking?”

“All of this, this . . . it has something to do with me. My past. Doesn’t it?”

Silence. Not sure what else I expected. Asra pulls me closer to him. His lips press against the top of my head. “In a way. At least . . .” He’s quiet again, gathering his own thoughts or perhaps trying to figure out how to phrase them, then he repeats himself. “In a way.”

“Yesterday. In Lucio’s rooms, I had a headache, one that knocked me flat.” He doesn’t say anything in response, but he shifts his hand and runs his fingers over my hair. “But, I got through it, so -” I sit up and pause, looking down at Asra. “Why are you the only one who isn’t missing anything?”

“Missing?” Asra is trying and failing to keep the pain in his eyes from reaching his voice. His hand hovers over his chest and clutched at the fabric of his shirt before he manages to will it back to his side. He looks away from me, off into the darkness of the room. “We're all missing something, Dema.”

What happened that they've paid so dearly for it? I would ask Asra, but there are already pricks behind my eyes, warning of the headache to come if I do.

“Asra, am I the same person I was?”

His wide, startled eyes dart back to my face. “Are you the same person? Yes . . .” His chin tilts down. “. . . and no.” He folds his hands over mine. “You have the same humor and compassion. You sing the same nonsense songs to yourself. You even use the same obscure vocabulary that I know I didn't teach you. But there's an edge to you that wasn't there before, a sort of anger and cynicism. Not that I blame you.”

“Why didn't you tell me we were lovers?”

“I . . .” He drops my hands. “I didn't want to force some kind of expectation on you. You were so vulnerable at first, and I hoped the memories would come back, like your smile and your songs did eventually.”

Everything about him - his posture, the expression on his face - is a study in misery. I lean down and rest my head against his shoulder. We lay in silence for a moment.

“While I’m being honest, I don't know why you're helping Ilya. He’s not a perfect man. Then again, I suppose no one really is. Are you...that determined to uncover the truth?”

“I am.”

He sighs heavily and runs his hands over my back. “We’ll find him tomorrow then, and we need to go meet a friend of mine.”

(STOP! DID YOU READ THE TRIGGER WARNING. THE NEXT SECTION CONTAINS MENTIONS OF SELF HARM AND SUICIDE. Scroll to the end for a non detailed summary.)

Coda: A Punk Who Rarely Ever Took Advice

Five years ago. Dema.

There wasn’t much left in the market anymore. The city’s stockpile of grain hadn’t run out yet, so the baker was still producing bread, but simple utilitarian loaves. No decadent pastries or pumpkin bread rich and warm with spice though. I had been able to trade a basket of eggs from my chickens for a few days worth of tea, which was rapidly becoming scarce now that the harbor had closed. Beyond the bread, Asra and I had been largely eating from my neglected vegetable garden, but he was good at making something out of nothing.

I climbed the stairs to the kitchen above the shop and found Asra hovering over the kitchen table, arranging items on a multi-colored shawl. Packets of herbs, various charms, an assortment of coins - his tarot deck.

“You’re leaving me again?”

“What? No.” He looked up from the bundle. “You’re coming with me.”

“Asra, I can’t leave.” A steady stream of people continued to come to the shop, even - even after Anna died. I could give them blends to ease fevers and coughs. Charms that would soothe aching bodies. All just symptom management, but it was something. Something that I could do. I placed the loaf of bread on the counter and tucked my small packet of tea safely into the cabinet. “Besides, the entire city is closed off.”

“I know ways out of the city that the guards don’t.” Asra took the bread from the counter and added it to his bundle. I snatched it out and returned it to the counter. Faust lifted her head from her basket in the south window, tongue flicking, attention shifting between the two of us. “I did a reading. It's only going to get worse. If we leave now -”

“Asra, the cards are only a 'might' you know that.”

“Can't take that risk. Not with you.”

“There are people still asking me to help them. I can’t just abandon them.”

“I don’t care about them, Dema. I care about you. We need to go somewhere safe.” He took my hands in his, lifting them and pressing his lips to my fingers. “Anywhere but here.”

“I’m not leaving, Asra. I finally feel like I’m doing something useful. Not just taking up space.”

“Don’t you understand? If we stay here, we will die. You said yourself that there's no cure.”

“I’d rather die doing the right thing. Anna -”

“Is dead! She’s dead, and I can’t lose you too. I just can’t.” He held my hand as tightly as his gaze holds my eyes. “Please, just let me make this decision. Dema, you aren’t thinking straight.”

“What do you mean?”

He turns my left arm over, running his thumb down the scarred skin to where I have a bandage tied loosely over three new, evenly, precisely spaced burns from when I had found a handwritten note listing her modifications to a recipe, and I needed - I swear - to interrupt the emotions that started to swirl like smoke creeping beneath a door, to wrap around my limbs pulling, tugging me back to listlessness.

I jerk my arm out of his grasp. “Fuck you. That’s not fair.”

“Dema.” He reaches for me again, and I step back, just out of his reach. “I have to keep you safe. I’ve lost too many people. Just this once, let me decide.”

“Mad or not, I still get to make my own decisions. You don’t get to take that from me.”

He stood quietly, trembling. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “I didn’t say you were mad.”

“What did you say then?”

“Dema. I love you. I can’t watch you die.”

“Then don’t.” I wrapped my arms close around my chest, shoulders hunching forward. “Leave. I won’t stop you. You’re always gone anyway.”

“You don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand? That you’re running away? That you think I’ve lost my mind? That I can’t make decisions for myself?”

“If I you tried to hang yourself, should I just let you?”

“How fucking dare you, Asra. This isn’t the same at all.”

“How? You’re dead at the end of either scenario!”

A deep breath. Count to ten. Don’t overreact. “Get out, Asra.” It wasn’t an overreaction. Not at all.

Asra stared at me, silent, every muscle in his body taut. “Fine,” he said finally. He gathered up his half packed bundle, took his flamboyantly feathered hat and iridescent scarf down from the wall, and lifted Faust from her basket and curled her around his shoulders. As he stomped down the stairs, she looked back over his shoulder at me, eyes blinking in confusion.

I told myself he’d be back. Probably before the sun set.

He wasn’t back that night. Or the next day. I stayed busy during the day in the the still room, preparing tinctures, pre-mixing teas, and carefully melting down some of the precious little sugar I had left into syrups that I was strongly encouraging people to only buy for children. Easier for adults to tolerate a bitter tea.

When he wasn't back at sunset, I toasted a slice of bread, fried an egg to go on it, and settled in with a book of philosophy, because I needed something that would take up most of my mental energy, and a novel wasn't going to suffice.

He didn't come back at midnight.

The scrap of paper with the address of Julian's clinic was tucked into the back my book.

The second morning, I knocked on the clinic door.

Summary of Coda: During the plague, following her aunt's death, Dema comes back to the shop to find Asra packing to leave. Dema insists on staying, because she feels like she's doing something helpful for the city. He tries to make her come with, referencing that her mental illness is acting up and that she isn't in a good state of mind to make decisions. They argue and Dema throws Asra out. When he doesn't come back, she goes to work for Julian.

Next Chapter

A/N: Chapter title from Andrew Bird, “Fake Palindromes” and the coda title is from The Verve Pipe, “Freshmen.”

#the arcana fanfiction #asra alnazar #asra x mc #asra x apprentice #portia devorak #nadia satrinava #consul valerius #quaestor valdemar #fan apprentice #my writing #dema #whatever i've done

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darkcolinodonorgasm · 6 years ago

Text

Say it with a flower, seal it with a kiss

A/N: whew, it’s been too long since I’ve updated this series, but hey, day seven is finally here! It’s (not quite) Lieutenant Duckling fluff. I had this whole idea but the fic went down another road, but part of the original idea did find its way into the fic - all because I rewatched La Seine no Hoshi (Star of the Seine) one too many times with my niece and nephew.

Hope you like it!

Prompt: “gilding a lily” (7/365)

Rating: T

Words: ~5.1k

(ao3) - (ffnet)

«This is a gift from Master Jones,» her mother told her, placing the flower crown upon her head, using some hairpins to hold it in place, her long blonde hair loosely braided at the nape of her neck, curly strands escaping it, giving her a false sensation of freedom.

As much as she liked to think so, Emma wasn’t free, not exactly: she was a Princess, and with the title came duties, such as marriage. Especially marriage. Which meant she had to soon find a suitor, one her parents – and the council – would approve of. Not her. Well, not entirely, at least.

Even though her parents were True Love, Emma still had to respect the laws, stupid, archaic, laws written by men and intended for men only. Which meant, her husband must be noble and preferably one with whom form an alliance.

All her life, Emma had wondered what it would be like marrying for love, even if her partner was a lowly subject of hers. Especially… She shook her head, careful not to ruin her hairdo, she didn’t need to be reprimanded once more by her mother that evening.

«It’s lovely,» she commented. It was more than lovely, it was beautiful, attentively crafted. Gypsophilas, white roses, wildflowers and tiny leaves formed the crown, matching her gown. Her favourite flower, however, was the middlemist, but she’d never told Killian, aehm, Master Jones that. However, he knew. Emma wasn’t sure how exactly he’d acquired that knowledge, but he had.

Biting back a sigh, Emma stood, her feet already aching in her shoes and she’d not even started dancing yet! Her heart fluttered at the thought that there would be someone she wouldn’t tell no if he asked her for a dance. Unfortunately, that someone would never do that.

Perhaps… perhaps she could take matters into her own hands. Emma blushed at the thought, the only thing stopping her from actually doing it apart from her introvert nature was the fear of being rejected.

As far as she knew, in fact, he could have someone he was courting. Perhaps he fancied someone and she had no hope of catching his attention.

Suddenly remembering her mother was still there, Emma squared her shoulder and walked out of the room, skin flushed from the tip of her ears to her cleavage. Snow clearly disapproved, the frown on her face a clear sign.

The ball was boring. Obviously. Rarely those events weren’t, especially when they were held in honour of some guest. Sure, her mother always tried to give each important guest an unforgettable and personal welcome when they came to Misthaven. Emma didn’t understand Snow’s love for such big events. In all honesty, Emma didn’t care about being a princess at all.

«Duckling,» her father greeted her, placing a light kiss on her cheek, «you look radiant.»

Emma blushed gracefully: the only one who ever was true in his compliments was the King. Although he might have been a bit biased, David was honest.

«Thank you.» She adjusted her gown, the almost-blinding white of the fabric shimmering under the candlelight. It was rather beautiful, the hem of the skirt decorated by shiny silver embroidery shaped like flowers that climbed up to her waist and then up to her bodice, the sleeves slightly falling from her shoulders and continuing down her arms like bells. She looked like a bride, which wasn’t as appealing as her mother thought.

As she’d thought, the ball was boring; not even an hour into the celebration, the muscles of her face hurting from all the smiles she was forced to plaster on her face and her feet aching. They wouldn’t if some kind of prince from Oz – a very strange thing considering that Oz was no monarchy and there were no rulers – didn’t step on her feet every other moment. At one point, Emma had to bite her tongue so hard she thought she would cut it off.

Thankfully for her, her father swept in and saved her feet from further damage. Right now, in fact, Emma was trying to hide away from any possible suitor. It wasn’t an easy task, her presence required by many and sought by even more people. It was exhausting.

In the distance, dimly lit ships floated on dark waters, making her wish she could just sail away. In about a week, she would, but alas not forever, nor for long. It wouldn’t be a pleasant journey either: although she loved Alexandra dearly, Emma didn’t want to attend her birthday ball.

Salty breeze moved strands of hair, now almost silver under the starlight. It would’ve been fascinating hadn’t she been such in a bad mood.

«A red rose can’t go unnoticed in a field of snow.»

The male voice behind her startled her, making her heart beat wildly in her chest. Turning around, Emma brought a hand to her heaving bosom, air escaping her lungs as she realized it was Master Jones who’d spoken.

It was quite strange to see him outside his beloved and holy sanctuaries, the greenhouse and the garden. For example, the flower decorations inside, those beautiful bouquets she wanted to steal and put in her chambers, Killian had prepared them in the greenhouse, only for the servants to be the ones to bring them in the ballroom.

«Apologise, your Highness,» he said, bowing his head, «I didn’t mean to startle you.»

A smile blossomed on her face, all she wanted to do was put her fingers under his chin and force him to look her in the eye. Perhaps, Emma only wanted a pretext to touch him. «You needn’t worry, Master Jones, your presence is one I welcome gladly.» If possible, his complexion reddened even more. It made her grin grow wider. «Oh! I wanted to thank you for the flower crown. I love it.»

He’d brought his blue eyes back on hers, breath catching in her throat. What her heart did when he smiled, however, could not be described. «I’m glad. You’re beautiful.»

Lips parted, Emma felt as if the balcony had crumbled beneath her but she was still able to stay afloat. Was it the frantic beating of her heart? She shook her head slightly. «I-I… Thank you,» she stammered, absentmindedly licking her lips, «you’re not bad yourself either.»

Killian let out a soft, quiet gasp, a noise that would have Emma laughing softly at if she wasn’t so intent on studying his clothes. She’d rarely seen him in such an elegant attire, the times she visited the greenhouse and saw him working there, or the even fewer times in which he stepped foot inside the castle in places that weren’t his quarters, Killian Jones was always impeccably dressed, white and light shades of green or blue wrapping around his toned body, his nimble fingers with dirt under the nails if he was planting seeds or meticulously clean in every other case. Emma knew his habits were more a residue of his life in the Navy, one he couldn’t serve in anymore after his brother’s death.

Tonight, however, Killian Jones was more elegant than usual, with leather pants – which Emma tried not to stare at for too long, mostly for her own sake and the one of her heart’s – a white shirt topped by a red velvet vest, such a bold colour for his standards. What shocked her the most, was the leather coat that completed his look.

«Pirate.»

The word escaped her lips before she could restrain herself. She paled, eyes wide in fear: the last thing she wanted was offend him.

But Killian Jones managed to surprise her once more. He chuckled. Admittedly, the blush tinging his cheeks had not disappeared, but it was now accompanied by a grin. A shy one, but a grin nonetheless. «Not exactly what I was aiming for, I must admit, but I didn’t want to outshine those… gentlemen.» He cleared his throat before pronouncing the last word, restraining himself before saying something not fit for a lady’s ears. Emma bit her tongue to keep herself from asking him to speak freely. She felt as if she could be bold and free with him.

She tilted her head, a smile pulling at her lips. «Believe me, Master Jones, despite your efforts, you failed in your intent.»

One of his black eyebrows rose high on his forehead, a reaction that had Emma bite on her cheek to keep herself from smiling even more. «That so?» he muttered, but Emma was sure he didn’t mean to say it out loud if the deeper shade of red colouring his ears was any indication.

Ducking her head, Emma nodded slowly, glancing away from him. She wasn’t sure why she’d been so bold, but what confused her the most was that she’d liked their little exchange more than she thought she should have.

«I’ll take my leave, then, your Highness. I must’ve not followed you out here when you clearly wanted to escape everyone’s attentions.» He was about to turn around and leave when her voice stopped him.

«Please, don’t!» Emma begged him, breaking all the rules in the book. Realizing what she said, Emma opened and closed her mouth as she tried to come up with a reason why he should stay, a reason that wouldn’t involve her own selfishness. «I know this is unorthodox, but… can I have this dance?»

If Master Jones was astonished before, now he was utterly shocked. «It would be an honour, Princess,» he replied, bowing slightly and offered her his arm to go back inside. Emma’s fingers wrapped around the buttery leather, sensing through the layers the strong muscles beneath.

Albeit having talked to him several times, the only physical contact they ever had was a casual one, just once, when he handed her a middlemist. This was too much and too little at the same time.

The moment they stepped back into the ballroom together, everyone seemed to stop talking, surprised gasps echoing against the high walls. Emma flushed a deep red but held her chin high. Thankfully, the music had not stopped and, as soon as she and Killian had bowed to each other, the other couples began dancing again, still giving them quick, curious glances.

Emma’s breath caught in her throat as soon as she wrapped her fingers against Killian’s, stiffening a bit when he felt his other hand on her waist.

«What is it, your Highness?» Killian inquired, searching her eyes from beneath his dark lashes.

Glancing away from him, Emma tightened her grip on his hand. «I’m just afraid,» she admitted, shyly looking up at him, «I’ve never had a good dance partner aside from my father. Tonight was no better.»

A warm, kind smile spread over his face, dimples forming on his cheeks. «There’s only one rule, Princess,» he told her, securing her hand over his shoulder, «pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.»

And then he started to move, guiding her through the dancefloor with such gracefulness she found herself impressed by his coordination and knowledge of the steps. Mostly, though, Princess Emma was impressed by the man himself: he was nothing like her suitors, always stumbling over one another to earn her affections while Killian, simply with his presence and quick glances, made her heart beat faster than ever other man ever could.

Against protocol, they danced together through three dances consecutively, evoking shock and disdain in the other guests. Or rather, in those who not so secretly aimed to be the ones spinning her around the room and put the bright smile she had now on her face. Not that most of them cared about her happiness whatsoever.

When the third song came to an end, Emma felt dizzy, drunk, almost, drunk on that happy feeling she’d never experienced before that night. How, people would wonder, how could she feel so happy only now, only with him, when she’d been pampered all her life. It wasn’t about comforts, it was about being complete. And with someone only after her title and money, how could she be?

Perhaps… perhaps with someone like Killian she could be.

Emma covered her eyes with her forearm, moaning in pain at the light flooding her room. That was probably her mother’s doing. Why couldn’t she just leave her alone? Emma sighed, burying her head beneath her pillow to escape the light.

She’d been home for three days already, three days spent in bed, throwing up livers, lungs, heart and even her soul.

Of course she’d feel awful after her trip, as if she’d not been visited by the green-eyed monster at all the balls held for Alexandra’s birthday. It’d been overwhelming and tiring, so much Emma slept for almost an entire day when she embarked for the journey home.

Curling up on herself to find a bit of warmth, Emma tried to imagine what Master Jones was doing, wondering which flower he’d planted and grown in her absence. Had he ever thought about her at all or what she felt that night at the ball was only her foolish imagination?

The week before her departure they’d exchanged only pleasantries, formal nods in each other’s direction and shy smiles. More than once she’d wondered if the man she’d danced with was the same one she admired from afar. If only she knew how Killian looked at her whenever she glanced away, torn and longing.

A knock, too loud, echoed in her ears. Whining, Emma covered her head with the quilt, knowing she would come up for air in a few minutes, sweating even more.

The door opened as her prayers went unheard. Of course, it was her mother, bringing her more ginger tea. As if Emma wanted more ginger tea. She would feel sick – again – if she smelled more ginger.

«Oh, honey,» her mother murmured, concern lacing her tone. The Queen didn’t try to move the cover from above her head, nor Emma felt the mattress dip. When Snow spoke once more, it was to give her the cure she needed. Or rather, the cure her soul and heart needed. «I’ve brought you some peppermint tea. Master Jones was very firm in his opinion that you should try this other method.»

Emma almost leapt out of her bed at her words, heart palpitating in her chest at the mention of the man who filled her thoughts. Many times Alexandra or Melody caught her staring at nothing in particular, questioning her about her dreamy sighs and heart eyes.

The moment she heard the clicking sound of the door closing behind her mother’s back, Emma threw the blankets aside, cold assaulting her skin and seeping through the soaked shift. She didn’t care, all she cared about was the fact that he’d sent her a cup of tea. It didn’t matter if he’d been the one brewing it, it was the thought tha- Oh.

On the tray, next to the teacup – one belonging to her favourite set, with light blue decorations that recalled the sea – was a middlemist. A soft sigh escaped her lips, hand reaching out to take the flower, rolling the stem between her fingers, gently, admiring the different shades of pink in the petals’ creases.

Only when she noticed the parchment tied to the flower she came out of her reverie. A smile pulled at her lips. Carefully, Emma freed it from the white ribbon, one she knew Killian – gods, Killian – used for the flower crowns he created for her.

Your Highness, the short letter rad, please forgive my bold gesture. If you do not wish to read further, I beg of you, burn or rip this parchment and forget it ever existed. If you don’t, however, please consider my advice. I have heard you’ve been unwell lately, and while I wish I had a better remedy for your illness, I do hope peppermint tea will be the cure you need. While ginger tea is a good method to cure nausea, it doesn’t mean too much of it won’t make you feel even worse. Hoping I didn’t offend you and that you will get better soon, perhaps even grace the garden with your presence if I’m not too presumptuous, I now leave you be, Princess. Sincerely, Killian Jones.

Emma’s cheeks hurt, her smile so wide she could almost feel her lower lip split in the middle. A pang of sadness shot through her heart like a poisoned arrow: he’d not mentioned the night of the ball, though she’d not expected him to. The tone of the letter, shy and tentative, along with the clear invitation to join him in the garden as soon as she felt better and was ready to leave her chamber, was telling enough.

Another of her dreamy sighs, the one her friends teased her about, left her mouth as she fell back on the bed, clutching the rose and the letter to her chest, as if wanting to imprint it into her heart so she would never forget those gifts, far more precious than any she’d ever received.

Suffice to say, the lukewarm peppermint tea was the best one she ever tasted.

It took her two more days to heal completely.

Her mother kept fussing and her father brought her more peppermint tea but no more middlemists. It saddened her, but Emma rather enjoyed the quick glares her Papa shot to the still blooming flower in the crystal vase on her vanity.

Finally, when her legs didn’t shake so much to move her skirts and what solid food she did eat managed to stay down, Emma decided she’d had enough and that it was about time she took a breath of fresh air.

Her complexion was slightly paler than usual, the freckles on her face starting to stand out more and more as she kept her head titled back, sun kissing her skin. Her hair was loosely tied in a braid, a look her mother would frown upon if Emma hadn’t been firm in her decision to dress as she wanted.

For a moment, she contemplated dressing down to her undergarments and really enjoying the sun. Part of her liked to think about the reaction she would trigger, but she didn’t want to send either of her parents to an early grave. Perhaps, one day, she would enjoy the sun’s caresses on her bare skin.

Heat crept up her neck and face when a tiny voice in her head suggested she would go on such adventures with a certain Master Gardener.

Gasping in surprise at her own thoughts, Emma stood from the stone bench, driven by a sudden spark of flaring fire in the pit of her stomach. She licked her lips, eyes wide and greener than ever as she exhaled and strode into the greenhouse.

High glass walls rose towards the sky, closing above her head in a vault ceiling. Whoever conceived the building and built it must’ve been a genius. White-painted steel kept the glass upright, a staircase spiralling up to a balustrade that ran almost completely all around the greenhouse and hosted various other plants. The greenhouse’s architectural style contrasted with the castle’s, too modern to seem to fit. And yet, it did. More than, it looked the perfect place to escape from routine, even if, or perhaps because, the only inhabitants were flowers and plants from all over the realms. It didn’t hurt that its guardian was such a gentleman and helped her quiet her mind even just with his presence on the other side of the greenhouse.

There he was, at very end of it, bent over an orchid, her mother’s favourite flower. He was carefully tying the stems to flower spikes so they wouldn’t bend and break, but grow strong and beautiful. She was in awe of him, and she thanked the gods her sight was still good enough to clearly see him even from afar.

Her mouth suddenly ran dry. Not for the first time Emma deemed him as a celestial being, but now, enveloped in the morning light which wrapped around his figure like a halo, testifying his otherworldly nature, enhanced by the white linen shirt he was wearing, sleeves rolled up past his elbows showing off strong forearms. It was unbelievable that she’d touched them just several weeks ago, albeit from over layers of clothes.

More than once, when Emma only caught just a glimpse of him, so fast she’d believe it’d only been her imagination if she didn’t know he existed and spent all his waking hours in the greenhouse, she found herself in awe of his seraphic appearance. The adjective had vehemently swirled in her mind for so long she’d sometimes sketched wings springing from between his shoulder blades.

Her fingers twitched, desiring to hold a charcoal and take time to sketch him like this, beatific as he focused on his task. One thing she wouldn’t be able to give justice to would be his mouth: so perfect, with plump lips enhanced by his short scruff and always moving. It was barely noticeable, at first considered a mere tic, until she caught him softly talking to a bouquet of wildflowers. He’d been talking nonsense, sweet nothings, but Emma never doubted he’d told his flowers his deepest secrets and revealed them his thoughts. Oh, how she egoistically wished she was a flower so she could hear them, too. Perhaps, one day, he would confide in her.

Some undefined feeling enveloped her heart as her green eyes roamed over his ethereal figure. A deep breath and she was – still elegantly – striding towards him, only to slow down to better admire him a bit more. Half his face was hidden by shadows, but she was enraptured by the strands of hair falling over his forehead and eyes, not irritating or hindering him in the slightest as he carried on with his task. Another wonder were his fingers, so delicate when touching the flowers – and Emma – yet still rough at the touch, hands which had known hard labour and the bite of steel as the scars on their palms and backs testified.

Of course he didn’t need to raise his head to understand she’d arrived. It felt very much as if, by entering the greenhouse, or the garden, really, she’d crossed some magical boundary which informed him of any visitor.

«Good morning, your Highness. I confide you feel quite better?» he greeted her, casting a glance out of the corner of his eye. Would the peculiar shade of blue of his eyes be found in nature? It looked like the blue of forget-me-nots, yet not the same.

«Much better!» Emma exclaimed, blushing at her own excitement. How little self-control she had in his presence. «I wanted to thank you. You’ve been my savior. Weren’t it for the peppermint tea, I’d still be bedridden.»

At last, he straightened his back, turning to her and if wings appeared behind him she wouldn’t be surprised. It was the smile he was giving her that didn’t make her feel silly.

«I’m glad to hear that.» After the last word left his mouth and stopped echoing against the glass walls, he turned towards a pot, watering the plant there, one she didn’t recognize.

Albeit gentle, his words sounded very much like a dismissal. Was he perhaps toying with her? Was his invitation – not quite an invitation, she needed to admit – only a ruse?

If there was one thing Emma was, though, was a fighter. Despite her demeanor and gentle manners, she’d been raised by a former bandit and a shepherd-turned-king. She could take time to gather her courage to act or voice her thoughts, the fact that she was a Princess not discouraging her from being herself.

Licking her lips, Emma headed closer, putting the wooden work bench between them. Since her visit to Alexandra, a thought kept nagging at her. The Princess wasn’t a vain person but, much like other women, there were times in which she loved to look – or rather, feel – beautiful. Void compliments still ran common through the nobility, and her innate ability to detect lies only saddened her when she received one. It hurt, but like many things, Emma buried her sorrow deep down, trying to forget it.

«Master Jones,» she began, eyes darting to him and finding his attention still on the plants, «have you ever heard of flower used to adorn gowns?»

There it was.

His hands stilled for a brief second, and had Emma diverted her eyes, she wouldn’t have met his. The confusion she read in them almost made her smile. Though she fought it, she couldn’t impede the corners of her lips to twitch.

«Aye,» Killian carefully replied, his voice a tad deeper than usual, «but I rather the flowers grow in vases or bushes instead of adorning already magnificent gowns.»

Decidedly, Emma couldn’t fault him. «What about flower crowns, then?»

Her question seemed to surprise him, and it was quite shocking to see him fumble at her question. Pride shot through her at the red blush painting his cheeks and reaching the tips of his ears in such an endearing way.

Killian cleared his throat. «There’s a difference, lo- your Highness.»

Oh, how her heart ached when he cut himself off. «Is there?»

A low exhale and he met her eyes. It felt more like being pierced through the soul rather than being looked at. Could it be? «To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, to throw a perfume on the violet, to smooth the ice, or add another hue unto the rainbow, or with taper-light to seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, is wasteful and ridiculous excess.»

The quote was one she recognized, one she agreed with. While it did communicate his idea, it still didn’t explain why he would consider flower crowns acceptable when the thought of covering a ballgown with fresh flowers was so abhorring.

«What I mean, Em- I’m sorr-»

«You can call me Emma!» she rushed to say, her hand suspended mid-air as if wanting to reach out to touch him before curling her fingers into a fist, bringing it back to her side. «I-if you want, of course.»

They were breaking protocol. Emma didn’t care.

«V-very well, then,» he conceded, glancing away from her. «What I mean, Emma,» – why did she allow him to use her name, again? – «is that you don’t need a flower-covered dress to be beautiful, to gain everyone’s attention, you already do that on yourself.» A pause, a small smile – no, a grin, stretching his lips. «Even if you avoid any kind of attention and hide, you still eclipse every other woman in the room. All their efforts are vain when it comes to compete with you.»

His earnest compliment managed to melt her heart even if she knew it wasn’t possible, because if her heart didn’t liquify, then Emma didn’t know what it did. Her lips parted in a quiet gasp. She wanted nothing more to round the table and kiss the lips from whence those words had fallen.

Protocol and customs be damned, the princess did exactly that.

Being her first kiss ever, the way she pounced on his lips felt awkward at first, her hands balled into fists around his shirt. She almost fell over as she raised herself onto her tiptoes, feet leaving her flat shoes. How could she care about any of that when his lips felt so soft against her own, the coarse hairs of his stubble scratching deliciously over her skin?

It took Killian the fragment of a second to reciprocate the kiss, eyelids fluttering closed and lips moving against Emma’s. Gently, he guided her through the kiss, daring at one point to sweep his tongue against her lower lip.

She sighed into his mouth, trembling in his grasp as their tongues touched, discovering each other’s mouth. It was paradise, it must’ve been, there was no other way to describe how she felt, as if she was experiencing the greatest beatitude.

One of Killian’s arms tightened against her waist, bringing her closer her higher, her tiptoes barely touching the floor His other arm, instead, brushed up her back, sending ripples of heat straight to her belly, a warm sensation she was new to but wanted to explore, to be consumed by. When his fingers slipped through her hair, Emma was grateful for the loose braid she’d chosen. She wondered how those same fingers would feel actually running through her golden curls. The thought made her shiver.

They broke the kiss, breaths mingling and foreheads touching before Emma surged forwards again, making him stumble back a little. She left her shoes behind, the cold floor of the greenhouse a sharp contrast with the warmth she felt inside, blood boiling and flesh aflame.

Killian pulled away slightly, pulling the hand away from the back of her head to hold her chin between thumb and forefinger, smiling at her.

No, the princess didn’t need flowers sewn onto her clothes, nor any other embellishment, not when Killian was looking at her like that, as if she was the lily and all the other things he’d spoken of mere minutes – or an eternity – earlier.

It didn’t run smoothly for them, some of the council members and the too many suitors claiming a mere gardener wasn’t good enough, not even if he’d served in the Navy. What Emma was grateful of, was her parents’ past and how they’d been firm in their decision to let their daughter follow her heart, whether it’d found a home in a nobleman or in a gardener.

Flower crowns, bouquets and single middlemists never failed to appear out of thin air, lovely gestures or a way to apologize – from her part, Emma brought him seashells or starfishes, her own way to say she was sorry – and while Killian kept his job, his acuity and past were useful, if not indispensable, when it came to alliances and strategy. Emma felt her skin tingle and heat pool in her belly whenever Killian spoke to the council, sure of himself and his ideas; the power he held over the council the same of a captain running his ship.

He was also a good physician, having long chats with Doc about herbs’ healing properties and how plants could be used in medicine.

Suffice to say, ginger tea was never served to Emma again, peppermint substituting the root in the rare occasions she ate something that upset her stomach.

That is, of course, until, several years later, she had to switch to red raspberry leaf tea after midway through her pregnancy.

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