#also gloves I added just for horse riding are GIVING IT

[bathsebah]

[just-some-user-hunny]

The Cannibal dragon headcanons ...

(art credit for middle image, ig: dracalyss)

. Cannibal is a huge dragon, the largest of all wild-dragons, but I can't see him being any larger than Vhagar- let alone Balerian the black dread. I imagine he'd be a tad bit smaller than Vhagar- just about. His build is bulky and scarred, a thick neck of scarred obsidian scales, a set of jagged jet-black spikes that run along his spine, and covered in thick taut muscle and hardened flesh. His eyes are a blazing emerald green, teeth sharp and jagged like a shark.

. I also love the idea of him having this 'grinning' look on his face, like a crocodile or the indoraptor from Jurassic world. (His personality screams indoraptor to me, just a mean guy with a nasty lil goblin grin). And with his torn jaw and exposed teeth, it makes him look even creepier and menacing. There's something way too...human about it. Expressive in both his grin and mannerisms.

He's definitely a stare-er too. Something about a monstrously big dragon being unnervingly quiet and observing is uncomfortable, which is exactly the vibes he gives off.

. I like to visualize him as a very 'wild' looking dragon, like how'd you imagine a stray feral cat. His scales are rough and weather-worn, covered in large claw-like scars from fighting and hunting other dragons throughout his life. There's also fanart of him missing a huge chunk of flesh around his jaw and mouth, baring his teeth, which I think looks really cool :) as a young dragon he probably picked off the small and easy dragons, ones that wouldn't put up much of a fight. But as he grew in age and size, he would probably grow cocky and try his luck with larger prey. Due to him being an absolute monster, I'd imagine he'd often come up on top- but not without earning a few disfiguring scars in return.

. Despite never being bonded to a rider before, nor being ridden before in his life (he'd scoff at the mere thought of some little measly human thinking that they could climb upon his back and treat him like a pony), once he bonded with you it was like an instant connection. He is still a little edgy and unpredictable, but there is one thing for certain and that is he is always as gentle as possible with you. He'll press his body into the dirt if it allows you to climb on and off safely, craning his claws and jaw for you to step upon.

. He wouldn't wear a saddle, so you'd have to learn to ride him bareback. Thankfully he has many jagged scales and spikes to cling onto, but to be on the safe side, you'd have special riding gear to wear to help cling on. Rougher gloves and boots and trousers, it certainly helps, even if it's just a little. If anything the fact you ride bareback is a testament of your bond, showing how close and in sync you both are.

. The biggest issue with him would be his... diet, and how he'd have to adapt once he begins to hang around dragonstone more often. I'd imagine he wouldn't eat much, adding to the unpredictability of him and when he would hunt, but as his rider you'd have to supply him at least livestock every week to keep him happy and saturated. Cows, horses, large livestock due to his sheer size.

. He flies quite similar to Vhagar. His form is heavy, and although strong, he is lumbering.

Although at his age now he'd be a rather ancient dragon, he wouldn't really show his age besides a few moments where he just wants to curl up in his little cave upon his ✨private island ✨ to take a nap. In his youth he was most likely a very quick dragon, like a stalking panther striking upon his food. (Being younger dragons and hatchlings). I've seen someone write about him being a silent hunter (I'll reblog and credit once I find them), but that's such a neat idea for his character! He's survived from hunting his own kind, so he's going to hunt differently. Smarter.

. His fire in the books is described as green, and that's just too cool to swap it out with normal fire. Blazing emerald flames that engulf earth and prey, unnatural and mystical. It'd be very distinctive as well, whoever finds their fields or flocks of trees burning and crackling in a blaze of green fire, they'd know that the cannibal had just been there.

. Personality wise, I feel like he'd be cruel and sadistic, but wise and grumpy. Probably cocky as well, for having survived on his for so long and through unconventional means.

He's not a hardheaded bully, he's very tactical when it comes to facing challenges, but at this point he's such a huge threat he may be blinded by his own ego and emotions. If something were to happen to his rider, he'd make sure you'd get avenged. He's ride or die, quite literally. He'll burn everything down for you, because he feels strongly for the one human he feels he can trust. His grief is not silent or tearful, it's angry.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Ace's Story - 3

Source for pic

Firestarter 3

Word Count: 4300

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader, slight NSFW (It's mature, not explicit), slightly sugestive behaviour, flirting, jealousy, frenemies, sexual tension, miscommunication, unresolved tension, slight angst, slow-burn, romantic comedy vibes, alternate universe modern setting, swearing, drinking, fluff, feelings realisation, denial of feelings.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You intended to have some alone time, to reflect and heal, but your childhood friend's older brother, Ace, seems to be there just to upset that fragile peace you're striving for. He's a flirt and a womaniser. But why does he also have to be so handsome and perfect? And how long can you resist his charms?

Notes: Are you guys liking the story so far? I'm almost done writting it. It will be around 10 chapters, maybe 11. If you wish to be added to a tag list, say so! Thank you!

Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“How was the run, bug?”

“Fine.” Grumbling, you drink a large glass of water and start biting down on an apple. “What do we need to do, today?”

Shanks sees your foul mood and deftly avoids it, enumerating all the menial tasks that need to be done. Not only on the property, but also in the house. 

“Okay, I'll take the inside of the house, you get started outside. Fair?”

Shanks nods as he reaches for his straw hat. 

“At lunch we'll discuss your surgery. I've given you enough time.” Your voice is stern and you almost sound like your mother. Shaking that thought away, you grab your supplies and get started. Cleaning the house has always allowed you time to think, and you're in desperate need of that. 

The bathrooms aren't that dirty since it's really only the two of you in the house and, surprisingly, Shanks is pretty clean. So, as you scrub the shower, you start to think about Ace. He's the epitome of the boy next door. With all the repercussions of it and all the girls that come with him as well. And despite your mind telling you constantly that you should not be with him, you can't help your body from desiring him. 

You even consider giving in to temptation and getting with him, just for fun, so you can finally get him out of your head. But that's just stupid. And counterproductive. So you scrap that thought. 

But you still revisit that ��friends’ idea. You have fun with him and you could use some fun in your life. You just need to stop thinking about him carnally. How hard can that be, really? 

Just on cue, your phone buzzes and, after finishing the shower, you remove your gloves to read it. 

Dinner? Friends have dinner together. You both need to eat. But you have to make sure that it's nothing romantic. He needs to understand that. Or that you're not just one of his usual girls. He needs to understand that as well. Yet you seem to be taking a while to answer, so he adds another thought. 

You exchange a few more texts to get the hour and arrange to meet him since he's going to be there sometime in the afternoon. What should you wear? Well it's just a friendly hang. You don't need to wear anything special. 

Maybe you should call Nami… but that is a double-edged sword. Do you want to involve Nami in this? You know she'll be all up in your business with incessant questions and… Groaning you dial Nami's number and set it on speaker as you use your nerves to tackle the toilet. 

“Hi, girl!

“Hey, Nami, you busy?”

“Nope. It’s actually my day off, and Vivi managed to escape her City Hall duties earlier than expected, so we���re hanging.” You smile into the toilet. You had met Vivi over online calls but you had yet to meet the real thing. She is Nami's girlfriend and an angel for putting up with her fiery attitude. 

“Send her my love. Can you help me?”

“What is it, sweetheart? 

You sigh, but ultimately decide to treat this as if it was a band aid. Just rip it and scream after. 

“Well, Ace invited me to hang with him at the firehouse so he doesn't spend his shift alone. Pizza and movies.” You ignore the high pitch squeal on the other side and are already regretting all of the life-choices that led to this moment, but you continue. “It's a ‘friends’ thing!” You emphasise. “I just need to know if you have any tips on what I should wear? For a friendly hang!” You need to reinforce that notion. 

All credit where credit is due. Nami doesn't squeal anymore on the phone, though she can't quite disguise the amusement in her voice. 

“Honey, can I come over after lunch? We can choose together.”

“Oh, no, no. I can't intrude on your time with Vivi!”

Nami giggles on the other side. “I'll bring her along! And some of my clothes too… Talk later, hun!”

Crap, you shouldn't have called Nami. She's going to bring the skimpiest clothes ever. 

-*-

“That's too much, Nami!” You whine and kick the high heels away from you. “It's a friendly thing! I'm wearing sneakers! Help me out, Vivi.”

The blue-haired girl giggles and shows Nami an apologetic smile. “She wins, Nami. Simple is better in this case.”

“Fine!” Nami concedes with a pout and you sigh exasperatedly. You're tired of trying on clothes and you still need to take a bath. “But you're not passing out in thigh-high socks or shorts!” She squeaks. “I know that showing your thighs like that will drive him crazy.”

You roll your eyes at her as you set aside the chosen outfit. It's not that bad. You won, it's simple, yet cute. “I don't want to drive him crazy.”

“Sure, honey. And I don't want to earn money.” 

“Unrelated.” You bite back. 

“Still, both are untrue.” She winks as she gathers the skimpy outfits she brought while muttering that she'd make you wear them on another occasion. “What about your hair? We could-...���

“No, no! It's fine! I got it from here, Nami. Thank you so much for your help. Vivi, thank you for coming, your help was precious in handling Nami.”

She giggles and agrees. Both girls tell you to have fun tonight and Nami begs for a text with an update when you get home. Even if it's in the morning, and she double winks when you remain stoic at her joke. Before your bath, you go downstairs to accompany them and have a quick word with Shanks, who avoided surgery conversation at lunch like a professional. 

You wave the girls goodbye and then saunter to the living room, where your father is watching some sports game on TV and scowl while clearing your throat. 

“Oh, bug! The girls left? I thought you were going out for dinner?”

You blush slightly. “I am, just not with them.”

He mutes the TV to look at you with a raised brow. “Want to tell me who you're going with?” He raises his hand in the air. “Only if you want, baby, I know you're an adult now.”

“It’s just a friendly dinner. Ace wants to show me the firestation and we’re going to eat some pizza and watch some movies.” You seem to be finding it quite hard to hold your father’s stare.

“Ace?” His brows knit together but he nods. “Okay, be careful.”

Your head cocks to the side instinctively. “With what?”

“Just… it’s a dad thing, okay? Be careful!” He gets flustered and unmutes the TV but you’re still not done, so you position yourself in front of the screen on purpose. 

“The surgery, dad.”

Closing his eyes, Shanks sighs and turns off the TV. “Okay, let’s talk.”

-*-

You’re blow drying your hair after a quick shower while humming to a song. The talk with your father went as well as expected. He refused the surgery and you probed him so hard with questions that you finally understood he is simply afraid of becoming even more impaired than he already is.

You assured him that everything would be alright and that the condition his back is in is going to leave him impaired anyway and, after some coaxing and perhaps a slight hint of coercion, you managed to convince him to schedule a time with Dr. Law so he can give you both a step-by-step of the surgery, to assuage any fears you have remaining. 

You stare at the time and curse. You have about ten minutes to get ready and leave the house before you’re officially late. Finishing your hair, you apply very light makeup and then proceed to dress in the outfit that gave you a headache during the afternoon: jean shorts, thigh-high black socks, and a fitted black t-shirt with the most appropriate lettering for the occasion - ‘Firestarter’. You had almost doubled over laughing when you came across that shirt from your collection. You finish the look with your black and white sneakers and some bracelets. 

One last look in the mirror makes you shrug your arms and sigh. “It’s a friend’s thing. Stop overthinking it!” You growl to yourself and leave with a hasty step.

“Bye, dad, see you later!” You hear him rushing to the door of the living room and stare at you, his arm under his chest as if he was crossing it with his missing arm. You blush and add. “There’s lunch leftovers in the fridge if you want. Bye.”

“Bug.” You stop with the door open and turn back with a soft smile. “You look great.”

“Thanks, dad!” Your smile widens and you step out. “I really have to go, love you!”

You hear a soft ‘love you too’ before you close the door behind you. 

Luckily, your car - that’s now fixed thanks to Kid - doesn’t give you any trouble starting and you arrive at the fire station at the aforementioned time. Parking the car and taking a deep breath, you walk to the door and knock softly, phone already in hand in case he doesn’t hear you since the firestation is huge! It has three rolling garage doors for when the trucks need to exit and it looks old, its red bricks faded by the sun.

He must’ve been standing right on the other side of the door because it swings back and you are greeted by a smiling Ace.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

His smile falters as he sees you and you notice his eyes lingering on your exposed thighs. Nami was right. You want to giggle, but you remain composed. 

“Hi Ace.” Your eyes also linger on his muscular chest. You're used to seeing him without a t-shirt so you’re not quite sure why that black, fitted shirt makes him even hotter. 

“Wow.” He mutters. “You look… damn! Firestarter, indeed.” He chuckles nervously and you raise an eyebrow. Has the player run out of moves?

“Thanks.” You stand at the doorway awkwardly while he’s still hung up on how you look. It’s quite flattering, actually, and you are glad you took Nami’s advice. “Should we get inside?”

He gasps and moves away from the threshold. “Yes! Come in! I’ve already ordered the pizza, Deuce should be here any second now.” You nod and get inside while looking around. You enter some sort of reception area, so he leads you inside.

“This is the day room.” It’s a larger room with a big table, some chairs, a TV and a grey loveseat. “We’ll be watching a movie here.” He smirks as the doorbell rings. There’s a doorbell? You missed it. “Oh, it’s Deuce, I’ll be right back!”

“Wait, Ace! Let me give you some money for the pizza.”

“Are you kidding me?” He snorts. “No way.” Then he dashes through the reception room to get the pizza. You hear some sort of discussion but you can’t make out the words. You’re curious, but you don’t mean to pry since Ace acted as if he knew the pizza guy, so you entertain yourself by watching a case with old photos and trophies. 

Until you hear a hushed, ‘no, Deuce! Oh, come on!’ and a rustle of feet approaching. You turn to the door to be met with a grinning tall man with blue spiky hair and carrying two boxes of large pizza.

He chuckles and settles the pizza on the table, his eyes never leaving you. “Hi.” His grin widens and Ace enters the room with a scowl. 

“This is my idiot friend from school, Deuce. Deuce, this is…” He stammers and you take over.

“The idiot brother’s friend from school.” You tell him your name and extend your hand to shake it, but he smiles, takes your hand and places a kiss on the back, making you blush from the surprise.

“Delighted to meet you. You’re gorgeous.”

“Alright, okay, that’s enough. Bye, Deuce! Don’t you have more pizzas to deliver?” Ace grabs Deuce by the collar of his t-shirt and pulls him, making him let go of your hand.

“If you get tired of Ace, I’m great fun!” He replies, making you chuckle as Ace pulls him even harder. He’s halfway through the reception when you hear him exclaim: “You were right, Ace, this one is something!”

“Shut up, idiot!” 

The smile vanishes from your face as you stare at your reflection in the trophy case. ‘This one’ he had said. As if it’s a regular thing for Ace to bring girls to the firestation. Cute girls, apparently. Girls he actually wants to kiss. 

You sigh and shake your head as you hear his footsteps approach. No matter. You were only here for a movie and pizza. Nothing else. 

“Sorry about him. Deuce is a good friend but he’s a dick sometimes.”

You smile as Ace grabs some paper plates from one of the drawers and opens one of the pizza boxes. “Soda or beer?” 

“Soda’s fine.” You answer as he takes out two cans from the fridge. “What do you want to watch?”

Ace insists on watching a horror movie, thinking it might scare you, but turns out he’s the one doing most of the jumping. You eat three slices of pizza and Ace finishes the rest of the boxes. The man sure can eat.

Ace sits on the floor to eat the pizza, but as soon as you are both done, he climbs to the sofa, stretching as he does it to make it seem like his back hurts. You lean down, intent on removing your sneakers so you can get more comfortable on the couch when he gasps.

“What the hell is that on your arm?” He points and you eye him with a raised brow.

“What do you mean?”

“There!” He points again at your left forearm where there’s a big purplish bruise and you smile at him.

“Oh, this! It was from the other day. When I was almost hit by a car. It barely hurts.” You wave your hand dismissively but he grabs your arm to examine it closer and you clench your jaw. Why are his hands so hot?

“I did this?” He murmurs while his index finger ghosts over the bruise, creating a little trail of goosebumps.

“Well, yes, but, technically, you saved me so-...”

“I’m sorry.” He looks really apologetic, his eyes never leaving your bruised arm. The loveseat is pretty small so he’s really close to you and you can almost feel heat coming off of him. It’s not just his hand that is warm, it’s all of him. How is that possible?

“Ace, it’s okay. Really.”

He removes his eyes from the bruise and raises them to meet yours. You could close the distance between both of you with a mere blink, such is his proximity. His hands are still reaching and holding your arm, so he’s already leaning all over you and, once again, you feel some sort of magnetic pull. Some animalistic desire that makes you want to kiss him.

Your eyes dart down to his lips inadvertently, and your breathing accelerates. 

Friends, friends, friends!

Your mind keeps screaming at you, but his smell is inebriating and you want to drown in it. You want to drown in him. 

You’re just another girl. You’re just another girl.

He’s close, so close. 

The horror movie on TV unleashes a jump scare with a loud sound and this time, for the first time during the whole movie, you jump and get up abruptly. “Bathroom. I need to use the bathroom.”

Ace takes a deep breath and scratches the back of his neck. “It’s that door over there.” He points and you nod. You don’t really need to use the bathroom. But you needed to get out of his hold. Quickly. 

-*-

The mood returns to relaxed and normal when you return. You sit on the couch, having removed your sneakers, and sit with both legs bent to the side. Ace seems to find the seat small, so he stretches an arm over the back, behind you. 

The oldest trick ever. 

“So how come you still live with Mr. Garp?” You need to cut this sexual/romantic tension so, what better way to do it then by creating tension with his existing family member. 

You sense the change in his demeanour but his eyes never leave the screen. “It… just never happened.”

“Luffy and Sabo left. Is your grandpa ill?”

“No.” You sense his discomfort with the situation so you don't probe anymore. If he wants, he'll tell you about it. Which he does, after a moment. 

“I screw up a lot.” You turn to him. The seriousness in his tone conveys his real feelings and you hang on every word he's willing to give you. “I always have. I never had perfect grades, I just got by. I didn't go to college and I never joined the Marines like grandpa wanted.” He sighs and his gaze remains fixed on the TV though the ending credits have just started rolling. “I don't have any goals, I can't keep a steady relationship and, even if it looks like it, I don't have my life together. Grandpa doesn't believe I'm capable of great things. And it's true.”

Your eyes bore into his, but he doesn't turn to you. Swallowing a hard lump on your throat, you nod slowly. This man doesn't let his life move forward because he doesn't believe he is worthy of it. Garp had other plans for his grandson's life and, apparently, laid his frustrations upon Ace. Who now cannot escape this life on his own. 

“But you are capable of great things, Ace.”

He scoffs. “How do you know? I've changed! And even so, we hardly even talked before you left.” He doesn't mean to be hurtful, but it's true. 

“You're right. But here's how I remember you: A caring big brother who watched over Luffy when they got home from school and made sure he ate plenty of fruit with his snacks; A protective big brother, who caught Luffy with a broken lip and didn't rest until he found the bully and forced him to apologise; And even if it went against your aloof and bad boy persona, a loving brother who knew how to comfort and show love to a boy who needed it.”

His eyes finally turn to you. They're downcast, but you're sure he absorbed everything you said. Perhaps it is the beginning of a healing process for him. You can only hope so. 

“Thanks. I… I needed that.” He still seems lost, so you hold his hand and entwine your fingers with his, giving him some slight pats on the back of the hand. 

“Anytime you think you're not good enough or not capable… think of me, okay?” You grin and wink at him. 

Finally there's a hint of a smile on his face and that manages to warm you up. It felt nice to speak with him without him trying to escape the conversation with funny remarks. 

His thumb starts to trace gentle patterns on your hand. “I'm already thinking about you all day, what's the difference?” You want to believe him. His smile is genuine and you can almost perceive a small embarrassed look. But you can't really believe in him. The notches under his belt are too heavy to ignore. 

“I'm sure that works with all the girls.” You scoff and point your head at the TV. “Movie's over. Can you show me around?” You let go of his hand and lean down to put on your sneakers. 

“Yeah.” He replies dryly. 

-*-

He's shown you the locker rooms, the comms room, the small bedroom with two bunk beds, for when they spend the night, and now you're both standing in front of the pole. 

“Wanna do it?” He grins. “We need to get down so I can show you the truck. It's pretty cool…” He tempts you. 

“I don't know…” You eye the thing suspiciously. Technically, it's not hard. It's just sliding down. 

“I'll go first and I'll catch you if anything happens.” He assures you but you're still weary. “As much as I would love to catch you, I doubt you'll need it. You're so brave, courageous, strong-...”

“Eugh, stop that! Fine. I'll do it.” You giggle excitedly and he claps before grabbing the pole with both hands. 

“It's not rocket science. You grab, and you go down.” His voice descends as he slides down and you chuckle. Your nerves are getting the best of you. 

“Okay, okay, I got this.” You grab the pole with both hands. “Grab, and go down.” You do a little jump and squeal as you slide down. Ace is there to catch you but he was right, you don't need it. Though he still places his hands on your hips, just in case. 

“You're a natural.” His breath kisses your eyelids as you look up to meet his gaze. 

Magnets. 

But you need to reverse the polarisation. You need to be repelling, not attracting. 

“Thanks.” You whisper back. 

Reverse the poles. 

You walk away from him and act amazed at the huge space the trucks are in. It's a garage with firefighting equipment and two trucks and an ambulance. “It's huge!”

“Yeah I get that reaction a lot.” He chuckles and you can't avoid a snort. 

“You're quite cocksure.” 

“I sure am!” He keeps grinning and you laugh out loud. “Come inside.” Opening the door to one of the trucks, he, once again, sets his hands on your hips to help you up. Does he have a thing for hips? Because it sure seems like now you do! Everytime his strong hands grip you, you shudder and gasp at the feeling. It leaves you wanting more. How would his bare hands feel against your bare hips? 

Friends, damnit! Friends! 

Right. The truck! “So many buttons.”

He sits down in the driver seat and leans back. “Want to play the siren? It's quite fun!”

You look at him with half a smile, fairly tempted. “No, we shouldn't. We might give a heart attack to some senior citizens.” You grin. 

He still shows you where the button for the siren is and what the other buttons do. But after a moment in companionable silence, it's his turn to ask you a difficult question. 

“Why did you want to get married so young?”

It takes you by surprise as your face whips towards him, holding his gaze. He's serious again. “I… don't know, exactly…”

It's your turn to focus your eyes somewhere else and you choose your hands as you fidget with them. 

“It seemed like it was the right thing to do. My mom married my dad after high school. So when Ichiji proposed, I thought I should do the same.” You snort. “Look how well that worked out. To my parents and to me!”

Ace rests his head against the headrest and crosses his arms behind it, making his taut muscles bend and flex and you regret having looked, so you return your stare to your hands. Your innocent hands. 

Ace is very sinful. 

“I think it did. Both ways, actually.”

“What?”

He turns his head your way, slightly. “Clearly your parents weren't made for each other. I remember hearing them fight all the way to my house.” You can't help but agree with that. Both your parents were a lot happier and more civil with one another, actually, once they separated. “And your ex, clearly, was not meant for you. I mean… It takes a special kind of dumbass to cheat on someone like you…”

You fight against your better instincts. You should know better than to be swayed by his words. He's a player. He's got moves. He's got the right words. 

And they freaking work. 

Because you are a mess right now. Your heart keeps fluttering against your chest with all the sweet things he's saying and you've been rubbing your thighs together since he grabbed you by the hips when you descended the pole. 

Clearly you want him. You want him so badly. 

But you can't! Because you were never a girl for casual relationships and Ace doesn't do serious! He said so himself. So you sigh, do a little more rubbing and try to focus on grounding yourself. 

Off-limits. Off-limits. 

“Thank you for tonight, Ace. It was fun. I should get going.” You move so you can leave but he sets his hand on your forearm. 

“Are you leaving already? Did I do anything wrong?” Your stomach tightens and your chest aches. 

“No, Ace. You did everything right.” Leaning in, you give him a quick peck on his face. Then you turn and jump out of the truck. “I just have to go. I need to help dad, tomorrow. It's late, I'm tired.”

And you need to get away from him. 

He nods with a silly little smile on his lips. Your kiss helped make him realise he did nothing wrong. 

“Okay, sure. I'll walk you out.”

And after you gather your things from the day room, he walks you to the front door and into your car. You keep thinking that a goodnight kiss would be very nice. But you already gave him a very innocent kiss on the cheek and that should be enough. 

It's not. 

So you say another goodbye and enter the car. Your heart feels both heavy and light. It's a weird dichotomy that leaves you wanting more. Ace is fun and easy. But he's not boyfriend material. 

And you seem to have started to develop feelings for him. 

And that is not okay.

[maddascanbe-blog]

What's this? Unifications and Kwami swaps?!?

Part 2 of the unifications

While sometimes I can come up with ideas on what a unified miraculous should look like right away, like with Shadow Moth and Dragonfly, other times I struggle way less when I draw out the characters with Both miraculous first.

Viper Noir was kind of the exception since I very intentionally didn't want it to look like Aspik that much.

But for these designs I really felt it was important to get my designs out on paper first. SO! Let's talk Kwami Swaps and then we'll get to the unifications.

Since Pegasus already exists, I couldn't call Marinette with the horse that, but according to my brief research Arion is the name of one Pegasus form Greek mythology.

Much like with Chloe as Champion I base Marinette's on equestrian uniforms, and I've always treated blue as the horses accent color since that's the color of the Voyage portals. Keep the wings cause it both keeps with the greek theme and they look cute. And some little braids in her hair like some horses have to top off her Pony-tail. Also, assume the glasses are like- attached to the mask.

Lapin Chanceux (Lucky Rabbit) was the first design I did, albeit on paper, to figure out what I was going to do. I wanted to make her look different from both Bunnix's so I dropped the dark blue that I used for them and brought in more white and light blue.

I do like giving the rabbit holders some sort of poof around their hands or feet since it invokes the feel of a rabbits foot. In the Bunnix's it was around their arms, Marinette its her legs. The pom poms by her ears were added after the drawings was initially declared done but their so cute it was EASILY worth it.

Onto the unifications, I've actually redesigned both Pegabug and Pennybug before. And the first Pegabug redesign is actually still up on my youtube channel as a speedpaint. Obviously the designs and my artstyle have changed drastically though.

I cut the brown from the design entirely, instead opting to darken the red greatly. But keeping the white accents which were in both my Ladybug and Arion's designs. I also moved the wings up to her pony-tail both because they slightly resemble horse ears like that, and in preparation for adding the rabbit.

Whenever I unify the Ladybug I cut down on the spots drastically because they can make it feel really cluttered. But I tried to keep them in places that made sense. Alluding to buttons on her coat, the ones at the ends of the stripes down her leg, which I kept from my first design. And giving her spots on her hands, just cause. Also got some shoulder pad action because I wanted to-

And finally Lady Luck. Because Pennybug sounds stupid- I assumed at the time we first saw her that Pennybug wasn't called Lady Luck because they were saving it for if when unified the Ladybug and Cat. But no, that's Bug Noir, which also sounds dumb.

So we're going Lady Luck. Since Horses, Rabbits, and Ladybugs are all associated with good Fortune.

That being said- no one should be allowed to combine 3 miraculous on the sole pretense that they almost always look bad. Pennybug looked bad, Shadow Noir (also stupid name) looked bad, Monarch is his own can of worms, but- well you'll see.

I knew I wanted to more the glasses to the top of Lady Lucks head, just because I was kinda getting sick of the normal glasses. Assume just the lenses are the miraculous and the frame changes for the user. Now they are attached to goggles- not that you can really tell because they have black straps on Marinette's dark hair.

The ear/wings were the only thing I knew some people liked about Pennybug so I kept those, albeit without the black ring around the blue. And add white to the ponytail gradient. White gloves because they looked good, and I almost always give Marinette opera gloves.

She gets a few more smaller spots since the rabbit also uses them. And combine the riding coat with the the- it's not really a shrug but I don't know what to call it? Keep the wide pants because why not, and make the red a darker cool red. The blue could have also been changed to better match the pallet but the vibrant blue is an accent I use on all the miraculous' usually so it got to stay. So long as the suit is red I think it still reads as a Ladybug.

Last thing to note are the eyes. Lady Luck's eye look freaky because she's using three miraculous and probably shouldn't. And Lapin's eye's are pink/red with white pupils because my family actually had californian rabbits at one point and they all looked like that in photo's.

Bonus- here's the doodles I did years ago for Pennybug

and Pegabug

[08melancholie]

Honeysuckle and Whiskey. — Micah Bell/OC

tags: Mid-Canon, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), Chapter 1: Colter (Red Dead Redemption 2), Chapter 2: Horseshoe Overlook (Red Dead Redemption 2), Chapter 3: Clemens Point (Red Dead Redemption 2), Chapter 4: Saint Denis (Red Dead Redemption 2), Chapter 5: Guarma (Red Dead Redemption 2), Chapter 6: Beaver Hollow (Red Dead Redemption 2), How Do I Tag, Fluff, Angst, Smut, Angst and Fluff and Smut, just a dash of smut, mainly fluff and angst, Abuse, Past Abuse, Abusive Relationships, past abusive relationships, Grooming, Implied/Referenced Grooming, Pedophilia, Implied/Referenced Pedophilia, Colm O'Driscoll Being an Asshole, Torture, Burning, Stockholm Syndrome, descriptive torture, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, or a secret fourth thing, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Romantic Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Attempted Sexual Assault

summary: Closed-off and rough; mean and unforgiving, uncaring and simply horrible. The apathetic cowboy draws himself no attention, usually. He's always sat around camp, slumped over a table or bent down, elbows on his knees as he cleans his guns or sharpens his knife, carving the one same piece of wood for days. He didn't talk much; he felt himself way too high above the others to even converse—exception being Dutch.

That's who Micah Bell was, simply. She couldn't change it.

Micah Bell is a threat to anyone that crosses his path, and Melody knows it. So why has she gotten herself so involved with the outlaw? She tried to keep to herself countless of times; he hated her, she wasn't a pure American and that alone should have been enough to draw her away—and yet it simply never did.

Maybe it was just a rebound, wanting to feel something after feeling nothing from her horrible, previous partner—similar in many ways to the blonde cowboy—for years. Maybe it was his careless and cocky demeanor she never failed to give a chuckle to. And maybe, it was something more. She was going to figure it out, one way or another. They would; together.

a/n: ive had this cooking for months and this is the first of it im posting so im VERY nervous... :( it was going to be a long oneshot at first BUT im forcing myself to do it in chapters so that i have to continue writing it because ive neglected it for months now. also tags are going to change a lot probably

words: 2,658 | AO3 LINK I. — MASTERLIST

The wind picked up quicker than before as Melody rode along Colm through the storm. She could feel her body shivering no matter how many layers of coats and undershirts she put on before riding out. She gently brushed her horse's nose, trying to comfort her through the storm. "You reckon we're gonna find it soon? Joey said it's nearby.." She spoke up, looking to the man to her left.

"Surely. Hold on a bit longer." He replied coldly, riding his horse through the piles of snow effortlessly. She picked up her pace too, riding alongside his steed. "We gotta push a bit more." He added, his gloved hand rested on his lap.

She continued riding until the blizzard started clearing off, and they had a better view of the landscape before themselves. That's when he and Melody both noticed it; an abandoned outpost, exactly what Joey found before parting with the gang to seek it out. "Is that it?" She asked, hand hovering over her forehead to get a better view and block out the snow falling from above. "It sure looks like it."

He halted his horse next to her. "Must be it, c'mon." He ordered, and she followed him down the mountain.

They hitched their horses outside, and she followed close behind Colm. With her hand on her holstered revolver, Melody snuck around behind Colm, checking rooms with caution. "Clear!" He yelled to the rest of the gang, who moved their carriages in and hitched their horses next to their own. "Good job spottin' this gem. I'm sure Joey will be here soon." He says to Melody, taking a cigarette out of his box and offering her one. She nods, taking the offered cigarette and popping it into her mouth.

He manages to light a match on the denim of his jeans, holding it up to the tip of his cigarette "I sure hope so. We ain't seen him a few days." Melody comments, letting him light her cigarette soon after his own. "We already been losin' too much folk." She adds.

"Don't you worry. I've got it under control; those were necessary sacrifices, child." He says, his words not as reassuring as she'd hoped. Still, she nods with a small smile at him and watches him return it.

She moved her few things into the cabin closest to Colm's—by his command. Melody huffed as she finished setting everything, walking out to check everyone else's progress. She observed them with another cigarette hanging from her mouth. "You done unpackin', kid?" Colm came up behind her, hands rested on his hips as he watched everyone work alongside Melody. "How quick you are." He adds.

Melody just chuckled, blowing smoke into the cold air above. "Yes, I'm done. Do you need any help? Anything I could do for you?" She asks him, awkwardly fiddling with the cigarette between her fingers.

"Maybe." He replies, placing his hand on her shoulder as he continues watching. "Got a train 'round here that needs robbin'. Buncha snobby, rich nobodies." He explains. "We need dynamite. I got a plan on how to rob 'em."

"I'm sure I can find myself a general store nearby, I'll buy some." Melody replies, puffing a cloud of tobacco into the air.

He firmed his grip on her shoulder, his grip tight. "Attagirl." He whispered into her ear, and she just exhaled with a weak smile. "That's why you're my favourite." His breath brushed against her ear, and it made a chill travel along Melody's spine.

First night in her own cabin was weird, everything about it—from the cold temperature swearing to kill her of frostbite, to insomnia from fear they were occupying someone's outpost and would be shot in their sleep—just felt off, and Melody found herself tossing in her restless state on the mildly uncomfortable bedroll.

So much has happened in the last few weeks; from having to move camp a dozen times, losing a few weaker members in the process—to Colm's weird obsession with a rival gang rising again after he swore they were done with it.

Melody got up and stretched her legs out, anxiously lighting her fourth cigarette today for any sense of warmth it'll offer. "Fuck this damned storm." She looked out of the window as the specks of snow danced around the air, covering more ground and raising the snow level, little by little.

She finished the cigarette in a few minuscule minutes, and climbed back under the thin covers, trying to get some shuteye before tomorrow.

"You sure you ain't wanna come, Melody? It'll do you good to go out'a bit." Colm straddled his horse, looking down at her before him as Melody stroked his horse's nose.

"I'm far too tired, Colm. Plus, I need to get started on some chores and.. fixing this place up a bit." She replied, looking around at the buried outpost grounds, covered with thick layers of snow.

He chuckled, a sense of lust in his eyes as he looked down. "That's my girl; always so hard workin' for old Colm." He praised. "Someone's gonna have to reward you nicely for your contributions." He chuckled slyly, making Melody scrunch up her nose briefly. "Well then, I'll leave you to it." He urged his horse forward with a swift kick in the ribs, leaving the camp grounds.

Melody sighed, turning to make a mental note of all that needs to be done around camp before starting her round of chores, running on one cup of warm coffee and two hours of rest. Just great.

Colm returned in a few hours, a crate of province and some dynamite on his horse's back. She walked over to him, grabbing the province to put it away. "Hey. You got the dynamite?" She questioned him.

He hitched his horse, taking the dynamite and walking close by Melody, towards his cabin. "Yeah.. Figured I'd get it off your hands since I knew you'd be workin' hard by the time I was back," He responded, chuckling. "and I see that I was right, my good girl's being very productive, ain't ya?" He opened his cabin door with his elbow, placing the dynamite in the corner.

Melody chuckled nervously; his words leaving a distaste in her mouth, per usual. "Well, thank you Colm." She replied simply.

"Anything for you, child." He walked up to her, placing a firm grasp on her shoulders again. "I saw someone all too familiar while ridin' to the store." He announces, releasing his hands and placing them behind his back.

"Do tell." She answered, sitting down on his desk, swaying her feet off the edge slowly as she hunched over and placed her forearms on her knees. He turned, a mischievous grin on his lips.

He paces around the room. "Little ole Hosea Matthews, saw him on my way there." He answers, and Melody is taken aback by his words; which Colm just chuckles at. "Yeah, I'm surprised he ain't seen me."

She cocks her head at him. "You reckon he ain't recognised you?" She asked. "All them years of conflict, you sure he ain't just ignored you in hopes of gettin' out in one piece?" She chuckled briefly.

He stops abruptly, laughing. "Oh, sweet child. You're quite funny." He walks over in her direction. "You could be right." He says, placing each hand on one side of her body, which stiffens at the contact; now trapped on the table. "You know, you're such a smart girl, I could lis-"

A not-so-distant gunshot goes off, scaring both people in the process. "The hell..?" Melody mutters, awkwardly slipping away from his entrapment to a window. "I reckon my theory was right.. except he also snitched." Colm walked up behind Melody, looking out of the window.

Outside stood a fraction of Dutch Van der Linde's gang; Arthur Morgan, Micah Bell, Hosea Matthews and—of course—Dutch himself.

"Ah, fuck." he cursed under his breath. "Okay, girl. You go cover me while I.. I need to move away from the area." He explains frantically.

"Yeah.. Yeah I can do that." Melody says—already used to this by now—and, taking her revolver out of its holster swiftly, walks up to the door. She opens it slowly, leaving it ajar for Colm to slip out as she starts shooting back, catching the leader's glimpse.

His accuracy is almost perfect as he glazed both a strand of her hair just above her ear and immediately catches on to start shooting at the door she finds shelter behind. She takes a shot of her own, missing the first but taking his hat off just above his forehead as he ducks.

The shootout was brutal; only a few of Colm's members survived it, with some successfully hiding away from the area as they searched the outpost. Melody watched them take the train plans, along with their dynamite, and hurry off while boasting about it all, feeling victorious.

"How is it my fault, Colm? I did my best to protect you, I managed to shoot one in the arm, too!" Melody defended herself against Colm's usual outburst when things go wrong; where he blames every soul but himself, no matter if it's nobody's or everybody's fault.

He grunted angrily. "I don't care! They took the plans, and we have to move again!" He complains. Melody opens her mouth to protest, but is met with his hand high in the air before her—threatening to strike; something she's all too used to. "Don't. I don't wanna see you talkin' back to me." He ordered firmly.

And yet she still attempts to speak—like the fool she is. "Colm, I'm just trying to-"

And there it is. She's met with a hard, rough slap of the back of his hand, knocking her to the floor as Melody clenches her rosy red cheek, already teary-eyed. She opens her mouth to apologise, but decides against it as she notices that look in his eyes. He shakes his head in disapproval at her on the floor, choking up a silent sob. And so, she just gets up and walks out to pack her things.

Packing didn't take nearly as long as expected; calming herself did. She had everything in one crate, and was sitting on the bedroll in the cabin with a burning sensation on her left cheek, and a few slow tears trailing her cheekbones and falling into her lap. This was like routine, really; he'd get mad and take it out on her, leave her alone to sulk and then-

The door opens slowly, and Colm's body slowly steps inside—like clockwork. "Hey.. don't be cryin' on me, my sweet Melody. You know.." He sits down on the bedroll next to her. "You know I do it out of love. You know I sometimes lose my temper, don'tcha?" He asked, interwinding his hand into Melody's, rubbing the back of her hand.

"Yes, Colm." She replies simply, looking down at the floor.

Another teardrop meets her lap and she quickly brushes her face with her sleeves.

"Look at me." He commands, placing a uncharacteristically gentle yet firm hand on Melody's chin. "I love you. You know I do." His voice is as firm as his touch, and she just silently nods. She can't help wondering if it's even close to true sometimes. You don't treat someone you love like this, she's well aware of that much. "Good. Good... And you love me too." It's less of a question, and more of a fact to him.

Melody chokes up a response to break the silence. "I do, Colm." She holds his hand just as firmly as he stands up. "Let me get your things, child." He takes the crate off of the nearby table. She just smiles downwards, walking beside him. And that's how the routine ends, every time.

"We'll drive the wagon, girl." He calls out as Melody start straddling her horse. She looks at him with protest, opening her mouth to talk. "Ah Ah.. C'mon, you're with me. Cassidy'll take good care of your horse." He taps the seat on the coach next to him-and she can't not-oblige, leaving the reins in Cassidy's hands reluctantly. "Attagirl." He watches Melody sit down next to him.

The ride to a new spot is painfully long, and Melody is shivering throughout the whole thing-despite having multiple layers of shirts and jackets and putting gloves on her hands this time. "Where're we goin'?" She asks him, breaking the tense silence among us.

"Off the mountain; there's a spot I scouted out." He replies, hands gripping the coaches reins firmly. "It'll be better for all of us to get out of the cold." He looks at her shivering quickly, snaking his hand around Melody's shoulder and pulling her closer to him.

She obliges and scoots closer, resting her head on his shoulder. "Thank the Lord, then." She snickers, and he exhales with a smirk. "I'll be more than glad to be off that damned mountain.

"Oh, I know; you're shaking like a leaf, girl." He chuckles. "It's a nicer spot too, you'll love it," He snuggles her body closer, pressing her up to his side. "all the best for my best girl." His gloved hand rubs her shoulder, gentle—not like Colm at all.

She soon feels herself—restless from the night before along with the shootout and what followed—start to drift off on his shoulder, and he lets Melody sleep for a little while. She hated how easily she could forgive him for doing what he does, but he might really just have a temper. He's trying. He's trying. That's all she knows, and it's just how he is. Right.

The stage stops at a nice, slightly open area with a few smaller huts and barriers around it. Colm nudges Melody awake slowly, rubbing rough circles on her shoulder. "We're here, girl." He whispers into her ear as she lifts her head off his shoulder and rubs her eyes awake. The warmth of the new location can be immediately recognized, nice and actually comfortable. "C'mon. You'll be in my cabin. With me." He reveals, jumping off the coach as she follows.

"I'll be in the same cabin as you?" Melody repeats his words, puzzled, as she takes her crate with a grunt before following him. He nods his head, stopping before—obviously the biggest cabin—their spot.

"Of course, child." He simply replies, taking the crate she held off of her hands and walking inside. "Ain't it great?" Melody silently nods to answer, almost reluctantly. "Go get the rest of the things from the coach and meet me here." Melody quickly turns on her heels and walks out back to the coach.

They both finish unpacking around the same time, and Melody patiently waits for him to finish whatever on the edge of a cot. "Okay, girl." He firmly taps his thighs and stands up, beckoning her to follow him outside. She obliges quickly, walking right behind him. He calls everyone in a circle, explaining a new score he's gotten information for. Melody can feel herself distracted and spacing out, knowing she won't be invited to the job—per usual, Colm just doesn't trust her enough to let her go with him. As infuriating as it is, her hands are tied.

Maybe she'll get that luxury one day.

Kudos on AO3 always appreciated! I'm honestly so glad to have even just the first chapter of this fic out, as it's been collecting dust in my drafts until the one month deadline—literally the last possible day.

[quillofspirit]

More horses!

It's only fair that Marilyn also gets a horse. Everyone should have a horse! Still slowly making my way through everything @esta-elavaris has written, but this should be the last one for her OCs (until there's more 👀)

A Chestnut Anglo-arabian mare. Hear me out: equine therapy. Marilyn must have heard about it, and maybe at one point she finds a nice looking stable offering day-rides, and maybe she wants to get some fresh air and it’s not that far from her flat and— Anyway, she loved it, she also found that her knee didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. She found herself wanting to go back, loving the warm and calm energy of the horses and their soft noses.

One of her acquaintances noticed her interest and offered to give her informal lessons with her own horse, a retired show-jumping mare. Her friend tried explaining that mares have a reputation for being hormonal and difficult to work with, and that Chestnut horses tended to be more chaos-prone than others.

Hormonal, she could understand, especially if they were surrounded by idiot young stallions when she had been a multiple time national winner. The colour? She was reserving judgment on that one.

When she met Brimstone, she was taken aback by her fiery coat and temperament. Her friend showed her how to brush the mare, and Marilyn hesitated only a little before finding the activity incredibly meditative. As she learned to pick the hoof, she felt a little nip on her butt, and let out a yelp before standing back. She was shocked to see the argument between her friend and the mare, never before thinking there could be such a thing. Although her friend insisted on finishing, Marilyn persevered and managed to not get bitten anymore even as Brimstone kept a upset face.

Over time, she found herself offering to help her friend care for Brimstone, and slowly learning how to ride. She wasn’t planning on starting competitions, but she did like the idea of being able to canter in the forest and jump over fallen trees with her friend by her side. Plus it kept her in shape. She learned that Brimstone was possibly the most inquisitive horse in the stable, always wanting to understand new things, like new boots or new gloves (which she threw across the hall. To test their durability of course). She also didn’t bolt at things, unlike the other horses, she stood her ground and investigated. Marilyn grew to love that mare, and understood exactly why her friend loved her horse.

Eventually, her friend mentioned that she was looking for a new horse with which to enter competitions, but the cost of both horses were just a little over her budget. They decided to split the boarding for Brimstone, so Marilyn would have a leisure horse.

“Hell hath no fury like a chestnut mare"

So this got away from me a little, but I was motivated. It didn't come as easily as the others, since the concept didn't lend itself that well, but like Marilyn, I persevered!

I will be doing more of these when inspiration strikes, worry not, though I will -eventually- start on adding horses to many universes.

Image sources, from top to bottom, left to right:

Carina Maiwald

Carina Maiwald

New York Ballet's A Midsummer Night's Dream, Frederick Ashtons' article

Find the Facebook post here

Yvonne Strahovski in Chuck (S04 E14)

Ron Kimball on KimballStock

Photo by Raphael Schaller on Unsplash

Carina Maiwald

Photo by Mikayla Storms on Unsplash

[theauburndoofus]

Brain Rot

Mkay finally gonna do this cause I'm bored af and have nothin to do.

Character headcanons for the 141

Ghost- He very much is a sensory guy. Has to feel things before wearing clothes, has to make sure it doesnt scratch his skin. Part of the reason he hates touch is how rough peoples hands can feel, the callouses too much and he h a t e s it. Also why he wears gloves, the insides are lined with a soft fabric and it keeps the rough stuff off his hands. The only one who knows about this is Price and thats because he one time walked in to Ghost being near panic attack cause he couldn't find his gloves and wouldn't take any offered to him.

Soap- I feel like this man sleeps with his door open at home. The demons can stare, he'll stare back. Not in the slightest bothered by it just because if the doors open he can see whats out there, always sleeps with his door cracked open on base, able to see light peeking through and the shadows if someone approaches. Gaz tells him he's weird for this but he finds it funny when someone walks up and he just goes "Come in >insert name<" before they even knock.

Gaz- This bitch has a stuffie. Fight me on this but he's got a little stuffy (strongly feel like its a horse for some reason) that comes along on missions. Its tucked in his vest and not a soul knows about this. He had a pocket made tucked to the side just so theres less risk of the plushie being shot and the thing has been patched up once by Ghost of all people. Neither talk about it, but Ghost will wordlessly check on Gaz's plush when checking on him just because how much it means to Gaz. I feel like Price knows about this as well, and lets Gaz be with it because it helps Gaz stay level headed.

Price- This man is well versed in the world of neurodivergent. He is convinced whole heartedly his kids team members all have something going on and just adapts to it. Ghost has a rough sensory day, he's there with a soft hoodie and some gloves to help him re-regulate. He sees someone pull Soap's door closed while he's napping and cracks it back open so the man doesn't have a heart attack when he wakes. Gaz asks for the pocket to be added and grants it without question. Helps him with the recruits from time to time because he notices these things and just fixes it. Even sometimes does it to Laswell. She has this one audio issue and when things get bad for her he just levels the look and everyone shuts the fuck up.

Roach- He feels powerful when out of reach. Aka you will find his ass sitting on the fridge. Why? He likes it. Has convinced Ghost to give him a ride on his shoulders, practically beaming the whole time. Got yelled at by Price for climbing ontop of some equipment in the gym, partially because he only did it to scare the fuck outta Soap who never learns to expect him up there. Gaz just takes it as a challenge to find the latest spot, and the gc just has a streak counter of who's found Roach's perch each day.

[rosehearrt]

"How old is he?" He in question being the sightful steed Riddle was tending to. Altho animals weren't of any concern to Vil in terms of phobias or allergies of any sort, he much preferred to keep his distance from the horse to remain free of any hair that might be shed during his time around the stable. Besides, he didn't know the horse well enough to even consider coming anywhere too near. He doesn't know much about horses, at all, for that matter much less being able to read their body language that well other than to watch an animal's ears.

"I sometimes forget the fact that you're quite the equestrian." he muses, arms folding over his chest. Suppose one might mistake Vil for the type, too, with how animals would try to interact with him despite doing his best to avoid them - suppose it's true when they say animals have quite the judge of character but even that's no reason for Vil to want to interact with them. "Is this where I should search first from now on when I hear you're not occupied with Queenly duties? Heh." / hi i know we mentioned on discord w pony and im not trying to jump ahead but... we love riddle thanks.

“Five. But I began riding him when he was four. Most horses shouldn’t necessarily be ridden until they get older than five years, according to many experts, but Vorpal achieved his strength young, just as I did. I suppose we were drawn together through that.”

With a smile on his face, Riddle reached a hand upwards to stroke tenderly over his steed’s muzzle. Although he wasn’t certain his upperclassman wanted to be given a riding demonstration, he’d suited up just in case, as proper attire was as essential to getting both himself and his horse into the proper headspace as it was for movement and capability. He’d decided fort today on breeches with thigh-high half-chaps over his slick black riding boots, and a fleece-lined, chin-high, half-zip shape wear jacket over his usual polo for an added layer to prevent wind-chill. Lastly, of course, never one to go without, he’d decided on a pair of black wrist-length riding gloves he could snap into place. He looked every bit the part of a seasoned equestrian…and he supposed with the amount of time and effort he and Vorpal put into their regimen, at this point he somewhat was.

“The school had acquired him amongst a batch of other foals gifted by a donor, but from what I gathered, they were considering giving him away. He achieved a reputation of volatility and aggressiveness - he refused anyone who attempted to come near him, let alone ride him. Sometimes it feels like it might be nice to think that he was doing it for a reason…like he was waiting for me.”

It was quite the feat to pull Riddle’s attention away from Vorpal, whenever he was in front of the sleek brunette animal, but Vil-senpai’s presence did it well enough. It had practically made his heart skip a beat in excitement, when he’d been asked to introduce one of his favorite people to the very first friend he’d made here at Night Raven Academy. He wasn’t used to others taking an interest in what he did outside of academics…he figured he was usually a bit too much to take in large doses. It was understandable.

But riding his horse was so much more than a club activity for him. Even without Silver, Sebek, and the others, he spent much of the gaps in his schedule here, working with Vorpal. After all, Riddle Rosehearts wouldn’t accept anything less than complete and total perfection when it came to his marks in competitions. Neither would his horse, if you asked him, the animal could make quite the displeased expression when criticized, much like his owner. But aside from that, Riddle also genuinely loved spending time with him. Sometimes, he even did his studying out here, or read a novel laying with his back against Vorpal. The horse never seemed to mind. They were in-tune, that way.

Anyhow. He was touched, was the crux of the matter, that Vil-senpai wanted to come here. His admiration and affection for the other only grew, the simple request to see his steed was all the catalyst he needed.

“There’s nothing quite like riding. It feels freeing in the way nothing else does. I do spend much of my time here…so I suppose that would be a yes. Vorpal? Say hello.”

His smile grew, and then, as his horse blinked slowly, and examined the blonde in front of him cautiously for a moment before conceding with a bow of his head further forward, offering it for a pet, a laugh like chimes left Riddle’s lips. His heart felt light, his being utterly delighted by the sight of the two. Clueless to any aversions Vil-senpai might have had to the animal fur, or at the very least not considering the possibility right now, he gestured towards Vorpal.

“It seems he’s given you his approval! He’s quite fickle with it when it comes to most. Vorpal, that’s wonderful!”

[kate66s]

Looks like Y'all wanna know about DA CLOWNS

Well let's start with how many clowns there are, there are a total of EIGHT clowns. So far you've only seen two of them, Rainbow Riley and Wonder. I won't spoil the others cuz it's good to have a mystery or a surprise. But each clown is unique and has a different kind of talent or special thing they do.

Now why is there a daycare full of a bunch of clowns? Well let's start with the beginning. 8 collage grad students find an abandoned, broken down playground. They figured why not fix it up for the town's kids to play at sense there isn't exactly much to do in the town when it comes to kids entertainment. So through a complicated process they get permission from the city council that they could rebuild the playground and if they were successful they'd consider adding more to the baren landscape around the park. Also the city council couldn't say no to free labor, they only had to pay for supplies and tools. As these young adults built the park they ended up going towards primary colors and a more circus theme. They didn't have clowns painted anywhere on the park but they had everything else that a circus had. The small spring riders that were lions, elephants, horses and seals. It also included inclusive rides and swings. The park also got a safety fence around it to ensure kids didn't run off. The playground was better than before. It even got nice pavilion that kinda looked like a circus tent. After the park was open to the public the young adults were happy at what they accomplished....but some of them felt like something was missing...after a few times of kids being left alone at the park unsupervised multiple times the young adults asked city council if they could open a daycare right across from the park. The council said they couldn't fund the building of a full blown daycare, so they young adults started up a fundraiser. They did events for the community and held special contests and charity events. They even started a petition for a daycare to be made and with enough time they got enough money and signatures to build the place. It wasn't exactly a big daycare, but it was big enough for them. At first the daycare was just called Caretime, it only cost 10 dollars a kid so it was cheap enough for parents but good enough for keeping up with profits. After a week or so they realized that kids seemed disconnected from them or seemed they didn't want to enteract with the young adults that were watching over them. One of them posed an idea. "What if we went with the circus them and dressed up as clowns?" Some of them thought it was a good idea and others thought it was bad. Most people viewed clowns as creepy and horror movies didn't help the case. But there was a solution, they just had to find it. They did some tests and questionnaires around the town on how people viewed clowns and what exactly did they not like about them. After a while they figured out the common factor which was usually related to the makeup that most clowns used. The unnatural pigmentation of the face, over exacturated facial features, all of which just makes something unsettling and or creepy for most people. So they figured that they wouldn't use white face make up and just give themselves face markings, like red cheek and a red nose. They figured if they kept the makeup down and didn't exacturate their expressions they'd be fine. For the most part they were, they had the silly clothes, the colorful hair and the bright noses and cheeks but they kept their never covered up what their actual faces looked like or put gloves one. For some reason seeing that their hands were open gave people peace of mind, though not all the clowns had costumes that kept their hands in full view but they made that back with their appearance being calm and friendly. After that the daycare was called Caretime Circus and the staff were called The Caretime Clowns.

[pedrito-friskito]

safe and sound - javier peña x fem!reader

summary: after a long day on the ranch, javi just needs to feel you.

warnings: smut, fluff, javi being a softie, bathtime fun, unprotected p-in-v (wrap ur shit folks)

a/n: this falls into the same universe as my other javi peña oneshot - hiding my heart! I’ll have a masterlist up shortly 💕 (also I know it’s canon that his mother is dead but I decided for this series she isn’t so)

| main masterlist | series masterlist | ao3 |

Javi’s still getting used to your presence around the ranch. He still does a double-take when he finds a stack of your books on the coffee table where his mother’s knitting once lay. He’s still surprised when he opens a bathroom cupboard to find your perfume and eyelash curler sitting on the shelf that used to house his father’s aftershave. He nearly stops in his tracks when he goes looking for a t-shirt and finds your silky underthings tucked in the drawer.

It’s not even only your things around the ranch that throw him through a loop. His own truck looks out of place on the driveway. The keys hanging from hooks beside the door are not the worn lanyards that belonged to his parents. The pictures on the walls haven’t been replaced, but new ones have been added, new faces peering back at him. And he’s just not used to it all. Not yet.

He’s getting used to it, that much he knows. Having you around is the best thing that’s happened to him since he came from from Colombia. It makes him feel safe like nothing else has for a long time.

And at night? That’s when he feels it hit the hardest. That safety. That coming home. That belonging.

Running the ranch has been much more work than he ever bargained for, no matter how hard his father had drilled into him that it’s not easy work, Javi. You need to be tough, and you need to be strong.

And he has been. He’s tried his hardest to be. His hands are calloused beyond belief, his scalp caked in dirt at the end of every day, and his joints ache like he’s never felt before.

The animals are fussy some days. He spends a full week hunting down roaming sheep and corralling them back into their home. There’s a tire on the tractor that refuses to stay patched. He has to make three trips to the supply store to find the right feed for the horses because they’re apparently picky eaters and Javi didn’t even know a horse could be a picky eater.

It comes with it’s bright sides, though. The sunrises and sunsets that greet him each morning and bid him farewell every evening are beyond beautiful, rivalling even the prettiest nights he spent in Colombia.

One of the horses, who he’s affectionately renamed Steve, has taken to him, nickering happily whenever Javi walks into the barn. He’s especially happy if there’s an apple or a carrot waiting for him in the pocket of Javi’s coat. Simple thing. They spend most days together, riding through the land and making the rounds.

It’s a hell of a workout, never mind. His mother has stopped telling him he looks too skinny when he visits the home on Sundays. When he’d first returned, he was worried she was going to have a heart attack, crowing over him and begging him to eat more helpings at dinner. Now, he eats like a horse, clearing away plate after plate of whatever you’re serving. He’s gained muscle he didn’t know he was capable of having, the lines of his body growing thicker and leaner, that skinny DEA agent that combed through Colombia and lived off cigarettes and whiskey replaced with a certified cowboy.

It’s jarring, when he realizes. To see how much has changed — how much he’s changed — how much of his old life has moved aside to give way to this new one he’s building with you. He reaches for work gloves and a bridle instead of his badge and a gun. He pulls on boots and his father’s old work coat instead of tight jeans and a button-up.

(He keeps the button-ups, though. You’re not shy on telling him how much you like them, and he needs something for the nights he takes you out into town.)

Another one of the perks of the ranch? The way he gets to come home to you every night, and there’s only a short ride between the farmland and you. He’ll find you dancing around the kitchen or just coming in the door from your own day at work, hanging your keys by the door and stepping right out of your shoes and into his arms. On the weekends, he’ll only work half the day, maybe, rising earlier than you to get his chores done before returning to the house and slipping into the shower, where you join him more often than not.

In the week, you always ask him about his day, and he returns the question in kind. You chat for a while as you eat, the conversation usually carrying you past dinner and out onto the back porch, where you’ll lounge on the swing, your head tucked under his chin and Javi moving his hand up and down your arm, head tilted on yours, listening to the crickets and watching the stars up above.

On the weekends, when you find him hunched over his father’s desk, head bent over the books and accounts, it’s almost always the same. You know. You can read him like an open book, knowing exactly what he needs and when he needs it.

You’ll rest your hands on his shoulders, fingers digging in expertly, seeking out the knots that have formed in his muscles, kneading your thumbs into the base of his neck in a way that makes him close his eyes, a pleased growl working its way up his throat.

“You’ve been working too hard, cariño,” you whisper, leaning down so your mouth is right next to his ear, dropping your jaw so you can graze your teeth right over his lobe. It sends a chill shooting down his spine, one that turns to a shock of heat straight to his groin when you drag your lips down his neck. “Come take a bath with me.”

Javi’s never been one for baths. If he thinks hard, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t taken one since he was a kid. Bathing has always been about getting clean, not relaxing.

But you know how to do baths right. With your scented oils that make him realize why you always smell so damn good, and your lit candles around the tub’s edge. There’s not always bubbles, and Javi’s loathe to admit that he loves them. There’s just something about watching the foam slither down your body, that quiet noise of bubbles popping, the way it coats his hands as they roam your form.

Tonight, he’s feeling needy. He just wants to be close to you, and he’s been cursing the fact that it’s only Tuesday all day, that he can’t head back early and find you still laying in bed or sprawled on the couch with a book in your hand.

It was an easy day on the ranch, but the moment you’d walked in the door (after him, a rare occurrence), he’d been on you, wrapping his arms around your waist and following you around the house, taking your keys and your purse and putting them in their rightful places. You’d giggled and laughed and covered his hands with yours, twining your knuckles together. “Someone’s in a mood,” you’d chided, your tone half-teasing.

Javi had pushed his face into your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume, potent as anything even after a full day, and nipped at your jaw. “Been missing you all day, querida,” he whispered, “couldn’t wait to get my hands on you.”

“Clearly,” you said, squeezing his hands before manoeuvring yourself around in his grip, turning so you were facing him, leaning in to kiss him softly. “How’s your shoulder?”

He’d grumbled about his sore muscles as he walked out the door that morning, rubbing his left arm with a grimace that had your eyes trailing after him. He was glad for the easy day of work, because it hadn’t bothered him much, but…

“So sore, baby,” he murmured against your lips, pulling you impossibly closer. “Think I need a nice long soak.”

And you’d been more than happy to oblige.

Later that night, after you’d eaten, lavender-scented steam fills the bathroom, the water as high as it’ll go, and the two of you, naked as the days you were born, wrapped in each other beneath the bubbles.

You’d started behind him, his back resting against your chest and your arms wrapped around his neck. Your palms kneaded at his pecs, nose trailing along his neck as you dropped water across his skin, reaching up to wet the grown-out curls at the base of his neck. He’d revelled at your touch, at that feeling of safe, safe, safe, that seemed to spread from your fingertips and sink into the very marrow of his bones.

But, as it has from the moment he’d met you, from the first time he felt your lips on his, that deeper part of him, that unbridled attraction that he’s never felt for another person, comes to life.

He’s managed to flip you, sliding his body under yours until you’re sitting astride him. The water sloshes around the two of you, soaking the bath mat and your piles of discarded clothes, but neither of you really notice or care. He’s got one arm tight around you, holding your hips pinned to his, your wet body against him.

Slowly, carefully, he trails his hand up your front. The bubbles slide down his arm as it moves, slipping from his skin to yours, dripping off the curve of your breast and straight down your stomach. Javi just watches, silently, his head tilted to the side, brow so hard you reach a damp hand from his shoulder to his forehead, your thumb soothing the line between his eyebrows.

“So serious, cariño,” you whisper, the pad of your thumb swiping upwards over and over. “You’d think you’d look happier with a naked woman in your lap.”

He cracks a smile at that, and lifts his head to nip at your wrist. “Sorry, baby,” he whispers, adjusting you in his arms, one hand plunging beneath the water and curving around your thigh. “Too busy thinking about all the things I want to do to this beautiful naked woman in my lap.”

Javier swipes his thumb across your inner thigh, the water making the touch slicker. You move your hips forward, chasing his hand, but he pulls back, moving his grip toward your knee. He uses it to haul you closer, the distance between you vanishing, and your legs inch wider, thighs pressed to either side of the tub as he curls his wrist in, thumb now swiping along your folds. 

It makes your breath stutter. “Javi, I—” He’s not sure what you were going to say, but he stops you, thumb now pressed to your clit, drawing a tight circle as your body curls down over his. His other hand moves from chest up towards your neck, and he cups your cheek as your forehead falls against his.

“I told you, baby,” he murmurs, pushing his jaw forward so the words are spoken against your lips, “I couldn’t wait to get my hands on you. Been thinking about this all day.”

His cock is already stirring beneath the water, the keened breaths falling out of you and the way you keep whispering his name all it takes to have arousal rushing through his bloodstream. He keeps up the circles, the water easing his movements, and he feels your chest brush his, your peaked nipples dragging over his pecs as your hands settle in his hair, nails scraping his scalp.

“Thinking about what,” you whisper, and the huskiness in your voice makes Javier’s eyes roll back, “getting your hands on me or getting your fat cock in me?”

If there’s anything you do that drives Javier absolutely insane, it’s how filthy your mouth can get. He never would have guessed it, when you first started seeing each other, but now he’s thankful every time he has you that you can dish it as well as you can take it.

He adjusts his grip, feeling his cock harden, holding your hips between his hands and gliding you across his length. Water isn’t the best lubricant, but you’re a different kind of wet, and the glide makes his head tip back in your hands, mouth finding yours as you gasp out in pleasure.

“Always so ready for me, querida,” he murmurs, one hand slipping from your hip to your ass, delivering a quick slap that splashes water up your back. “Can I fuck you right here, baby? Please?”

He doesn’t have to keep guiding you any longer, your hips moving on their own, dragging your folds along him. You angle yourself just right, catching the tip of him at your entrance and sinking down in one fell swoop. The warmth of you makes him groan, the way your body stretches to accommodate every inch of him. Your nails dig into his scalp in the most pleasurable way, and Javier is the one gasping now, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as your hips settle on his.

“I’m the one on top,” you say, tilting your head to the side and dragging your mouth along his jaw. “Guess that means I get to fuck you.”

Any other day, and he’d let you. Any other time, and he’d let you ride him into oblivion, until every drop of water in the bath was on the floor, until you were both a spent mess against the tile. But not today. No, today he needs to fuck you.

You squeal in surprise as he curls both hands under your ass, slides his feet beneath him, and stands in the tub. Your limbs go frantic, hands scrabbling at his back and legs locking around his waist. It’s perfect, and he’s still buried inside you, the movement making him sink deeper, making your squeal end on a moan when his cock drags along that rough patch he’s become so well-acquainted with.

Javi drags his feet across the bathmat, making sure he won’t slip and drop you as he carries you out of the bathroom. Somewhere between the bathroom and bedroom, his cock slides out, making you whine, but the moment he’s over the threshold of the bedroom door, he’s pushing you against the wall, keeping you pinned with one arm and reaching between you to slip back into your drenched heat once more.

You clamp your jaw shut as he does it, a muffled moan caught behind your lips, and he starts to move, hips rolling into yours. He holds you with both hands now, fingers spread wide over each cheek, making you bounce on his cock as he thrusts up into you. Your mouth drops open again after a few more slides of his cock against that spot, your eyes fluttering shut as he keeps you pinned against the wall.

He can’t stop himself from looking down between your bodies, watching himself disappear inside you, his cock glistening with your slick. Your hands are in his hair again, pulling at the strands, tugging just like you know he likes it. “Javi, baby,” you groan out, head tipping back against the wall as he starts to fuck you harder, faster, eyes still glued to the place where you’re joined. “God, you fuck me so good.”

“Fucking right,” he grunts out, leaning forward until his forehead touches your chest. It obscures his vision slightly, replaced with the curve of your breasts, and he scrapes his teeth over the sensitive skin. He can feel it in the pit of his stomach, his own orgasm growing closer and closer with every thrust. But he can’t cum, not yet — he needs to feel you cum around him first. “Need you to cum, querida,” he grunts.

Wordlessly, you drag one hand from his hair to plunge two fingers into your mouth, giving him more than a show of your tongue dancing between your knuckles, soaking your index and middle fingers in saliva. Javier just watches, rapt as anything, as you pull them from between your lips and slip the hand between you two, starting to rub at your clit. It makes you clench down on his cock, making his vision tinge black at the edges.

He tears you away from the wall, lowering you onto the bed a moment later, grateful for the high mattress that puts you at the perfect level for him. He slams into you over and over, still watching, eyes darting from the movement of your hand against your clit, the way you throw your head back against the duvet, the thin skin of your neck practically vibrating with your pulse when he leans down to kiss it.

Javier rises up, gripping your hips, pulling you down onto his cock with every thrust of his hips against yours, and god damn it, he’s so close he can taste it. Gritting his teeth, he lowers himself again, his mouth close to your ear.

“You gonna cum for me, querida?” he croons, nipping at your earlobe. “I wanna feel that pussy squeeze me.”

That’s all it takes, apparently, because you’re seizing around him a moment later, his name tumbling from your lips on a high-pitched moan, your nails digging into the meat of his shoulders. And god, you go so tight around him that Javier can’t hold back anymore, his hips stuttering against you as his orgasm takes over, painting your insides with his spend and his face buried in your neck as it spreads through his body.

Once you’ve both had a moment to catch your breath, he pulls out of you with a wince, flopping beside you on the bed. Your lashes flutter for a few moments, and then you’re leaning over to press a soft kiss to his lips before you disappear back towards the bathroom.

Javier cleans himself up while you’re gone, pulls the sheets back on the bed and puts on a fresh pair of boxers. He’s getting into bed when you return, still stark naked, your hair now piled atop your head. He just watches as you cross to the dresser, pulling out a pair of cotton panties and stealing one of his t-shirts from his drawer.

It strikes him then, how everything just fits. You know where everything is, your things interspersed with his. Your movements are confident through the house, not tiptoed like you might disappear at any given moment. Your life is mixed with his, on this ranch you’ve decided to call home. It’s comforting, knowing that you’ve fit yourself in with him just like he has with you. It feels safe, and he hasn’t felt that for a long time.

“What are you looking at, cariño?” you ask, and the corner of Javi’s mouth quirks, both at the notion that you caught him staring, and the learned endearment falling from your lips. You circle around to your side of the bed, climbing beneath the sheets with him, and Javi gathers you into his arms, pressing his mouth to the crown of your head.

“You,” he murmurs into your hair, his body sagging with relief, the safe feeling seeping into his muscles and bones and making him feel at ease. “Always you.”

—————

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[whumping-in-the-wings]

I can’t thank everyone enough for the wonderful welcome I’ve had! You’ve all made me so excited to join the world of whump, and, as promised, here’s my first contribution: the start of my series Traces. I’m still very new to all of this and this is actually my first time sharing my writing publicly, so if I did something wrong- it’s too long, too short, not tagged properly, whatever- please let me know so I can fix that right away! Also, whenever I’m writing medieval fantasy, which this is, my writing voice tends to get kind of old-fashioned, so do tell me if it’s a slog to read through and I’ll do my best to tone it down in future installments. But all that aside, I’m so glad to be here and so happy to be sharing this series with you all! Any and all feedback is very much appreciated!

CW: graphic descriptions of blood/injury (not terribly detailed or gory, but it’s there), dehumanization, restraints, whumper POV

Tagging @aseasonwithclara (thank you so much, I’m glad you’re intrigued! And of course if anyone else wants to be added to the tag list, just let me know!)

Traces: Part One

Masterlist | Next

It was always the traces, the smallest of small things, that told the story. A tuft of dry grass flattened against the ground. A trail of broken branches pressed into the underbrush. Splashes of red on the forest floor, too dark to belong to the autumn leaves.

Sir Aubrey Gravesend brushed his hand against one of the dark stains, his lips curving up in the shade of a smile when the redness came off thick and wet on his gloved fingers. He offered his hand to the hound that had come up at his side- a young one, all eagerness and energy, its every muscle trembling with the thrill of the chase- and let the creature lick the coppery substance clean. Then he took hold of his horse’s reins and swung himself, with an ease born of practice, back into the saddle.

“A clear trail,” he announced to the half dozen noblemen and women clustered on their mounts behind him. “He’s taken them to the west, deeper into the forest. It won’t be long now before we catch up. His strength is waning.” That, too, he could tell by the traces, the way some of the tracks were misshapen or deeper than they should have been, as though the one who had made them had stumbled, staggered, sometimes nearly fallen, but kept on.

The little knot of hunters kept on as well, with the cold wind of autumn whistling at their backs and the dogs weaving in and out between the horses’ hooves. Now and again one of the riders would crouch forward in the saddle to urge their mount over a fallen log or a tangle of brush; sometimes one of the younger dogs would be overcome by excitement, pull too far ahead of the pack and be ordered back sharply by the master of the hounds. But for the most part their progress was uninterrupted, their speed unchecked. If they had been riding through the green and gold vibrance of summer, they might have had more trouble, but fall had dried the forest to brittle brown kindling, and the hunters could force their way through it as easily as their quarry had done.

Before long, they were rewarded with a sight of that quarry. As the horses thundered into a small clearing, a small handful of shadowy shapes exploded out from the underbrush, too swift to give the hunters more than a glimpse of them before they melded back into the trees.

“They’ve split up, Sir Gravesend!” The master of the hounds was panting as much as his charges, straining to hold their leashes in the baying, barking frenzy the sight of the prey had stirred up. With both hands occupied, he indicated his meaning by a nod to the left of the clearing, where an obvious trail of broken branches and crushed leaves led, not towards the edge of the forest where the rest of the herd had gone, but deeper into the trees. “Their leader’s gone one way and they’ve gone another!”

“So they have,” Aubrey agreed. “We’ll do the same, then. Keep the dogs with you, I won’t need them.” And with that, he touched his spurs to his horse’s side and vanished into the forest.

The woods were thicker here, a gallop harder to maintain, and Aubrey only kept the pace up until the pounding hooves of the rest of the hunting band had faded into the distance, leaving behind the unnatural silence of nature intruded upon. Then he slowed, first to a canter and then to an easy lope, following not only the trail that had been torn through the trees, but the dark dapples of crimson staining the leaf-strewn ground. Finally, just outside a coppice of birches too thick to see through, he stopped the horse altogether, looped its reins over a jutting branch and left it to what grazing it could find among the withered, scarlet-stained grass, continuing into the thicket on foot.

It wasn’t a long journey. Only a few steps, and then the close-growing birches had encircled him. And there, pressed back against the trees at the other end of the grove, he found what he had come for.

As Aubrey approached, the centaur stallion made a valiant but futile effort to sort out the damaged tangle of his legs. He thrust the front ones out before him, scrabbling for purchase on the hard-packed earth, but it was the third limb that betrayed him, buckling under his weight and sending him crashing back down. And no wonder, with an arrow buried deep in the thickest part of his right hind leg.

Even from this distance, Aubrey could see the toll that arrow had taken. The black-brown fur of the centaur’s lower half was lathered blacker with sweat and blood, the hot iron smell of it thick on the air. His face, in contrast, was deathly pale, and though his dark, deep-set eyes stayed fixed on Aubrey, they were glassy and unfocused with pain.

But even so, no good judge of horseflesh would deny that this was a fine piece of it. The centaur shared the thickly feathered hooves of Aubrey’s destrier, back in the stables at the castle, and was nearly the same size, perhaps even a little bigger. Strong-built, too. Though, for obvious reasons, he seemed at the moment to have no strength left. As Aubrey stepped nearer, he tried again to stand, failed again, and finally gave up the doomed attempt and lay still, his sides heaving.

Only then did Aubrey break the silence. “I don’t have much to boast of, poor country knight that I am,” he said. “Not even a proper garrison, really. But I must say, I’ve always been proud of my archers. I told them to do something that would slow you down, drain your strength, without permanently damaging you. I’d say they gave me what I wanted. Of course, I might have told them to do just a bit more, if I’d known you’d manage to last three days with that sticking out of you-“ he gestured toward the blood-soaked arrow shaft- “but that’s neither here nor there.”

He said the words without expecting an answer, and it was hardly a shock when none came. It was common knowledge that centaurs didn’t have the wit to justify their human halves, that they might as well not have had a human half at all for all the difference it made. But the creature’s eyes still looked human, even if there was nothing behind them, and it would have felt strange not to say something even if it wouldn’t be understood.

“I watched your band for a while,” Aubrey continued conversationally, still moving slowly forward. “I wanted to make sure I chose my mark rightly. Almost a dozen, by my count. A centaur herd that size is a rare sight these days. You must lead them well. Or at least-“ he waved a hand towards the arrow again, his lips shaping themselves into the same slight smile as before- “you did. That little fawn-colored mare, the one who’s hardly left your side for a moment since I had you shot, is she yours?”

He was close enough to see how the stallion’s nostrils flared, one ear flicking forward. So, even if he couldn’t understand the words, he could recognize the threat they carried. That was promising. “I thought she might be,” he said. “Pretty little thing. It wouldn’t take much to make something out of her. Then again, she looked too delicate to be fit for much more than a lady’s mount. You’re not like that.”

He swept his gaze over the broad shoulders, the tensed muscles beneath the sweat-lathered coat. Poor country knight he might be, but he could still appreciate a valuable thing. “You,” he breathed, “will be a challenge.”

He took another deliberate step forward, and the toe of his boot must have crossed the invisible line that separated “close” from “too close,” because the stallion reacted, raising his human half up from the ground and lashing out, wildly, desperately, with his forelegs. The attempt was feeble, and Aubrey simply sidestepped out of the creature’s range, waiting until the fruitless attack exhausted the last dregs of his energy and he fell heavily back to the ground.

Then Aubrey moved forward, even closer, his steps no longer the slow, cautious ones of mere curiosity, but swift and sure and purposeful. He leaned down over the injured leg, closed his gloved fist around the arrow and, in one single, merciless movement, ripped it free.

The centaur screamed. A short, sharp sound, as though he’d tried and failed to swallow it down, but a scream nonetheless, and alongside it a spasm of pain that shook his entire body. With nothing to hold them back, the thin rivulets of blood that had been seeping out from around the arrow shaft swelled suddenly into a stream, and Aubrey paused for a moment to watch the dark stain slowly spreading over the ground. “It’s a good thing I didn’t bring the dogs,” he remarked, half to himself. “They’d be tearing you apart at the first scent of that.”

He certainly would have to thank his archers. He could hardly have asked for a more perfect injury. It wasn’t a life-threatening wound yet, but it made the task of handling the centaur much more simple and much less dangerous, and, as Aubrey had intended, it would quickly turn lethal if it was left to the mercy of nature.

Not as though Aubrey’s own mercies would be any more pleasant. But they, at least, would not be fatal.

He didn’t bother waiting for the tremors of pain to fade. In fact, they only served his purpose, made it harder for the creature to lash out as he went to work. From the pouch at his side he extracted a short coil of rope and sliced it into thirds with his hunting knife. He slipped the first length under the centaur’s back legs, knotting it around the ankles- the uninjured left leg first, and then the blood-wet right one, an action that sent another shudder through the tensed muscles under his hands. Above anything else, he savored those small movements, those subtle signs of pain. Such a story they told, the traces, if you knew how to read them.

He was a bit more careful repeating the process on the forelegs. The centaur, after all, was still in control of them, but his exhaustion was apparently total, because Aubrey managed without incident. The final length of rope was reserved for those all-too-human hands. On that the centaur did try to fight him, shying away at the first brush of Aubrey’s fingers against the human half of his skin, but it didn’t take much to put a stop to that. Aubrey simply seized his shoulder and shoved him back to the ground, pinning him down until the struggling stopped. It took quite a bit more manhandling to get his wrists behind his back and tie them there, but it could be done, and eventually it was, though they were both breathing hard by the end of it.

Job done at last, Aubrey sat back on his heels, brushing the dirt and crushed leaves from his tunic. He was even more grateful, now, that he’d sent the rest of the hunting party on ahead, and not just because of the dogs. He hadn’t expected to have such a difficult time subduing the stallion, and if the others had been there to see it, they would never have allowed him to live it down. It was a humiliation, one that stung his pride even if no one else had witnessed it.

But somehow, in spite of that, a smile, a true one, spread across his face, as slow and steady as the dark blood still trickling from the arrow wound. Finally he reached out and set a hand on the solid shoulder of his prize, relishing the tremor that met the touch, the tiny trace of fear.

“Well,” he whispered, “I did say you’d be a challenge, didn’t I?”

[c-r-ash-crash]

New Life Chapter 4

Etho pushed himself to his feet, using the cave wall to steady himself. He rubbed at his face groggily. God, he hated moving to new servers. Especially if that server included permadeath. He slipped his mask on, and clipped his sword and makeshift scabbard onto his waist. He pulled on his gloves and rubbed the sleep from his eyes one last time. Up and at ‘em.

He marched out into the main room of the little shelter he and Bdubs had constructed the night before. He slipped silently into the small tunnel connecting the shelter to Bdubs’ tiny closet of a room. He stepped into the room and saw Bdubs passed out on the bed, sprawled out awkwardly. Etho couldn’t help a small smile at the sight. Then his hand brushed against his sword.

It would be so easy to kill Bdubs right now. His abdomen was completely unguarded, and there were no weapons within sight other than his own. It would be smart too. If what everyone else said was true, Bdubs was also on four lives. Taking one and knocking him down to his lime green life wouldn’t be a bad idea. He wouldn’t go red just yet, but he’d also be easier to take out if need be.

Etho shook his head, letting his hand fall back to the side. What was he thinking? He and Bdubs were allies. He couldn’t kill his fellow hermit. He wouldn’t kill him. Besides he wasn’t a red life yet. He wouldn’t be allowed to kill him. Not yet, at least.

Gently, Etho reached out his hand and shook Bdubs awake.

Grian rode through the forest, reins draped through his fingers. The horse he had found was a beautiful steed, snow white and muzzle speckled with spots of black and dark gray. His search for caves last night had been fruitless. But when he had found the horse, he had found a set of diamond armor tied to the creature's side. Part of Grian wondered if it was a gift from the universe. Most of him really, really hoped it wasn’t.

Suddenly, he heard two voices drifting through the trees. One was male, one was female. He recognized Scar’s voice instantly, and after a moment, he also recognized Lizzie’s. Quietly, he dismounted and wrapped the horse’s reins around a tree. “I’ll be back in a minute, buddy,” he murmured. Then he set off.

After a moment, the trees cleared to reveal a small river side beach and a cave plunging into the side of a small hill. Scar was sitting on the edge of the hill, and Grian could see a bright pink and blue smudge just inside the cave that must have been Lizzie. “You know, I’m actually the boogeyman,” Scar was saying. “So you should definitely give me a life.” Grian froze.

“Scar, don't joke about that!” he blurted out before he could stop himself. Scar leapt to his feet and Lizzie scrambled to see over the hill. “Oh, hey, Grian,” Scar said, grin growing wider. “Didn’t see you! Did you hear what I was telling Lizzie?” “About how you’re actually the boogeyman?” Grian said, eyebrow raised. “Do you even know what the boogeyman does?” “Well of course!” Scar said. “Then you know that if the boogeyman doesn’t kill someone in nine days then they become a red life?”

Scar’s face fell momentarily, horrified. But then his eyes lit up with mischief. Grian swore under his breath. “Of course I knew that,” Scar said, turning back to Lizzie. “Which is exactly why you should give me a life, Lizzie. If you do that then I won’t kill you this round.” “But why’s that such a big deal?” Lizzie asked. “I have plenty of lives to spare. It doesn’t really matter if you take one. Besides, this is just a game right?”

Grian flinched back, and Scar’s jaw tightened. “No, Lizzie,” he said quietly. “This is not ‘just a game.’” “Lizzie,” Grian explained, voice slightly pained. “If you lose all your lives, then you're dead. Like, permanently. It was a miracle we survived last time. I don’t know if the universe will let us come back this time.” The mood sombered. Lizzie simply stared as she processed what Grian had just said.

Then, suddenly, Scar clapped his hands together, startling the others out of their thoughts. “That’s exactly why you don’t want me to kill you, Lizzie,” he said. Suddenly, Grian had his arm caught in his grip and was pulling Scar into the trees. Scar stumbled along behind him, spluttering indignantly. Once they had reached the spot where Grian had left his horse, he shoved Scar up against a tree.

“This isn’t a game, Scar,” he growled. “Lizzie is a friend. And if she dies, she could die permanently. Don’t ever threaten people like that again. Our actions have actual consequences. This isn’t just some harmless scam you’re pulling. This is people’s lives, Scar. Do you not see how messed up that is?” Scar’s gaze hardened. “Grian, let me go. Now.” Grian didn’t move. “Grian,” Scar warned, much more firmly this time.

“Promise me,” Grian said, voice small and almost defeated. “Please, Scar. Promise you won’t pull a stunt like that.” “I promise,” Scar said. Grian didn’t notice the way he crossed his fingers as he spoke. Grian released his hold on Scar. Suddenly, Scar sprinted away and began untying Grian's horse from the tree. “What are you-” Grian said, but before he could finish the sentence, Scar was already galloping away.

Bdubs pressed his ear closer to the wall, listening for the tell-tale sound of lava. His brow furrowed, but then he pulled back. “This wall should be clear,” Bdubs said. “Who knows, maybe we’ll even get lucky and it’ll open into a cave.” Etho nodded silently, then gestured for Bdubs to move.

Bdubs stepped back as Etho raised his pick and brought it down on the rock face. A minute later, he had broken through the wall. He brushed away a few stray pieces of stone, and Bdubs tucked the item drops into his pocket. “Well, shall we see what’s on the other side?” Etho asked. Bdubs nodded, and slipped through the opening.

There was indeed a cave. Quickly, Bdubs propped a torch up against the wall, and scanned the area. He saw a few veins of iron and coal, but otherwise, nothing truly useful. “No diamonds in here,” he called back to Etho. “There’s some iron though if you want that.” “I think we’ve got bigger problems,” Etho said from right beside Bdubs. Bdubs jumped. “Geez,” he muttered. “How long were you standing there?” Then he noticed Etho was staring intently at a darkened corner of the cave.

Bdubs followed his gaze to see Tango and Skizz standing in the corner, hands on the hilts of their swords. “Oh, hey guys,” he greeted. “How long have you been in here?” “Couple hours,” Tango said evenly. “Stayed here once we heard you guys coming though. You might want to consider being more careful. After all, we only have so many lives.” Bdubs’ hand strayed towards his sword. “We do,” he said, a hint of threat creeping into his voice. “I would be pretty careful if I was you.”

Suddenly Etho broke in, trying to diffuse the tension. “So, how’s the resource gathering been going, gentlemen?” “Pretty good,” Skizz, still slightly cautious. “We found a couple of diamonds.” “Oh, really?” Etho said. Bdubs could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes. “How many?” “Four,” Skizz said with a shrug. “That means two each.”

Before anyone could blink, Tango was entangled in spider webs, another cobweb item floating in Etho’s hand. “Well, gentlemen, it’s wonderful that you’ve found some diamonds. But let me explain how this is gonna go,” the ninja said, calmly, tossing the cobweb from hand to hand. “One of us is the boogeyman. If you want to escape with your lives, you’ll hand over those diamonds.” “We don’t even know what the boogeyman is supposed to be,” Tango scoffed. “That’s hardly a threat.”

“Oh, I’m happy to explain,” Etho said. “You see, the boogeyman is someone randomly chosen by the server every nine days. And guess what? They get to kill people regardless of how many lives they have.” Bdubs felt sick. Etho was literally threatening to kill their friends. Did Etho know Bdubs was the boogeyman. If Bdubs really thought about it, his strategy was a good one. Someone on the server was allowed to kill, and no one knew who it was. Using that fact to get better resources was a good move. Bdubs tried desperately to ignore how vulnerable Tango was right now, how close at hand his sword was.

Skizz’s hand crept towards his sword. “Ah ah ah,” Etho warned. “There are two of us. One of you is trapped, and one of us is allowed to kill. I wouldn’t try anything Skizz.” Bdubs’ stomach began to turn. It would be so, so easy to kill Tango right now. He shoved the thought down.

“What’ll it be, gentlemen?” Etho said. Bdubs’ hand brushed over the hilt of his sword. Suddenly, he drew it, and Skizz and Tango flinched back. He cut the webs away from Tango. “Get out of here,” he ordered. Tango and Skizz didn’t protest, sprinting out of the cave. Bdubs watched them go. The headache from yesterday was returning. He ignored how feverish his skin felt, ignored the growing nausea in his stomach. He should have killed Tango.

Pearl added another layer of stone to the small platform she and Scott had made. He was a few blocks above her, scanning the nearby forest for any signs of other players. She glanced up, ready to ask him what he was seeing, but stopped when she saw his expression.

He was sitting despondent on the edge of the platform, twisting his crown between his hands, rubbing his thumb over the rim. The poppy he had picked earlier was sitting by his side, seemingly forgotten. What had happened between him and Jimmy earlier. Clearly they had been friends, at least once upon a time. But it was clear that wasn’t the case anymore, or at least Jimmy hadn’t wanted that to be the case. She watched as Scott’s fists curled around the crown. He looked as if he wanted to fling it away. But after a moment, he relaxed. Pearl sighed affectionately, and began clambering up the tower.

Before she reached the tower however, she heard the sound of horse hooves, and glanced down to see Scar riding a beautiful white horse. “Hey, Scar!” she called down. Scar startled, but then he too called down to Scar. “Hey guys!” Scar called up. “What’re you up too?” “Just a quick break,” Pearl said, dropping back down to the lower half of the platform. “Nice, nice,” Scar said. “Say, Pearl, I can’t help but notice you’re on your dark green life.”

“I am,” Pearl said, not missing the way Scott’s hand drifted to the bow slung across his back. “Well, that means you have a few lives to spare,” Scar said. “You know, we have a give life command now, so you can just transfer lives to each other.” “Oh, really?” Pearl said. “And I assume you want me to transfer you a life?”

“Well, of course,” Scar said. “But if you need some extra incentive, I’m also the boogeyman.” “What does that mean?” Scott asked warily. “It means I’m allowed to kill you.” Pearl froze. Casually, Scott unslung his bow. “Lot of good that does you,” he said. “It’s two versus one. Besides we’re up here and I have a bow.” Scar’s face fell. Then, they heard the sound of soft humming drifting across the clearing. A few minutes later, Jimmy appeared at the edge of the little field. Scar’s face lit up. “You may be safe but Jimmy’s not,” he said. “What?” Jimmy asked, startled by the sudden acknowledgement of his presence.

“Hey, Jimmy,” Scar greeted. “Have you heard of the wonderful give life command?” “I have actually,” Jimmy said, pleased. “I bumped into Grian earlier. He told me about it.” “Well, then, surely you already know how to use it,” Scar said. “I’m not giving you my life Scar,” Jimmy said. “Would it convince you if I told you that I’m the boogeyman?” Scar said, a bit of menace creeping into his voice. “I could just kill you if I wanted too.”

Pearl didn’t miss the way Scott instantly loaded an arrow and aimed it at Scar’s head. “I’m not giving you a life, Scar,” Jimmy said again, a bit more nervously this time. “‘Cause then I’ll be on my red life, and I really don’t think anyone wants that. I have a spyglass, though.” There was silence for a moment, but then Scar shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll accept that.” Jimmy tossed it to Scar, and scampered off as quickly as he could.

Pearl didn’t miss how Scott waited until both Jimmy and Scar were out of sight before he let himself relax.

Grian clambered up the hill to the enchanting table that marked spawn. He opened the book that lay in the center of the table, and smeared lapis dust across his sword. He began to speak the enchantment, but suddenly, he heard something hit the ground behind him. He whirled around, brandishing the sword but relaxed when he saw Etho.

“Man, Etho, we really need to put a bell on you,” he joked. “Please don’t” Etho said lightly. “That sounds like it’d be a nuisance.” “Yeah, but you couldn’t scare the rest of us half to death all the time.”

Etho rolled his eyes, and tossed a crafting table to the ground. “Bdubs, where are you?” he called down the hill. “I’m here, I’m here,” Bdubs complained, appearing as he spoke. “Cool,” Etho said. “You can get our stuff enchanted after Grian.” Bdubs nodded. “Tables free,” Grian said, resheathing his sword. “I see your resource gathering has been going well.” “Yeah,” Bdubs said, rubbing lapis across his and Etho’s swords. “Took us a while to find diamonds, but eventually we did.” “Nice,” Grian said. “What are you making, Etho?” “Jukebox,” Etho said, tossing the item to the ground as he did so. “Yeah, we found this really cool music disc earlier.”

Etho slipped the disc into the jukebox and eerie music began to echo throughout the night. “You know,” Etho said. “Whenever you hear this, someone’s about to die.” Grian burst out laughing. “Oh man,” Grian said. “Please tell me one of you is the boogeyman so we can make this happen.” “You’re correct,” Bdubs said.

Suddenly, a sword was slashing across Grian’s chest. “Wait what?” Grian said stumbling, fumbling to draw his own sword. Before he could do anything though, Bdubs made another thrust at him, piercing his shoulder. Grian turned tail and spirited away. He reached the edge of the river, and was about to jump into the water when a sword plunged into his back and through his chest.

Grian was slain by Bdoubleo100.

[purplebass]

How Does it Feel

Since everyone talked about Jesse meeting his uncles Gabriel and Gideon (and his aunts too), I’ve decided to write a fic about this. 

Rating: T Words: 1779

The day Jesse Blackthorn returned to London, he never thought he would get this much attention. Well, he did expect people to be shocked. He was alive, after everyone had known he had been dead for years. But he never expected the affection, considering how Will and James Herondale had glared at him during most of their time in Cornwall, while they tried to convince Lucie that the best thing to do was going back. 

“Why are you stubborn, Lucie? You’ve never been stubborn,” Will told her. “You, please, say something,” he told Jesse, who hadn’t interfered, thinking that it was better if he didn’t voice his thoughts if no one asked him.

“Lucie,” he said gently. “Your father is right. We should go back to London. We can’t stay here forever.”

She glanced at him, and he could read the panic in her eyes. “If we return…” She left the phrase hanging, but he knew what she was thinking. Once it was known to everyone what they did, there would be consequences. 

“You don’t have to worry,” he tried to comfort her. “We are going to be okay.” He longed to touch her cheek, but he decided that it was too much to do in front of her family, considering that they might believe it was his fault that she was far from home. He was sure that they didn’t hate him. That it was just a father and a brother who were bothered from their daughter and sister running away with a guy, unmarried. 

She nodded at him, and then looked at her father. “Then I guess we should leave.”

Jesse remembered the crestfallen expression on Will’s face as Lucie left them and got ready to go. He turned to him and managed a smile, and that was when he realized that he had probably gained his trust. 

There were a few people waiting outside of the London Institute, the evening they were finally back. He knew who they were because he had seen them, but they never did. He recognized Lucie’s mother Tessa, speaking to Cecily Lightwood. His aunt. Her husband, Gabriel, was folding and unfolding his hands in front of him expectantly, while his brother Gideon was telling something to him. He turned his head towards the carriage when he heard the noise of the horses coming closer to the entrance. His wife Sophie also glanced towards them. James had probably told them they were on their way, since he had taken off with one of the horses once they arrived in London.

“They’re all here,” Lucie commented, and touched Jesse’s hand. Her father had fallen asleep during the ride home, that was why she did it. “Is that alright?”

“We can’t control people, Lucie,” he grinned. “And why wouldn’t it be alright? Do you not want to see your uncles and aunts?”

“Of course, I do. I’ve missed them,” she said. “I meant you.”

“What about me?”

“I’m sure they’re also here for you. And you,” she paused. “Might want to be alone.”

He still forgot how it felt to be alive, and to be seen. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see them now. He had been curious about them for years, and only dared to watch them from afar while in his ghost form. He had only met his uncle Gideon once, years ago. He felt a little overwhelmed, but he didn’t say anything. He offered her another smile, then squeezed her hand. Her father cleared his voice and frowned, but Lucie rolled her eyes at him. 

“I hope Bridget is already preparing something because I’m starving,” Will said, as the carriage stopped in front of the Institute, and he got off.

He left his side of the carriage open for them, and Jesse took a breath before he also exited the vehicle. He extended his hand to Lucie, whose eyes widened because she didn’t expect it. They had never ridden in a carriage before, in the real sense. He had kept her company in there several times, while he was a ghost. But he had always vanished before she could get off. And he hadn’t been solid - he couldn’t have possibly offered his hand. He realized his hand was sweaty, but Lucie was wearing gloves. She wouldn’t notice. 

“We thought you wouldn’t arrive anymore,” Cecily said. “James was here long ago. We were freezing.”

“Nobody asked you to wait outside, Cecy,” Will replied. He was half hugging his wife when Jesse and Lucie turned towards the group of people waiting for them. They caught them kissing, but the others didn’t seem to mind. 

“We’ve been,” Gabriel then said, calmly, as if he couldn’t find the words. “Waiting. Waiting for you. Both of you.” He was watching them intently, especially Jesse. He had to look away, his cheeks were surely red by now. “We missed you.”

“Thanks, uncle. I also missed you all,” Lucie said giddily. “May I introduce you to Jesse?”

There was an awkward silence at first. For some reason, no one talked. “I’m very pleased to meet you,” Jesse said, his voice didn’t waver like he expected. “Mrs. Herondale, Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood, and Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood.”

“We’re very pleased to meet you as well, my dear boy,” Sophie said, smiling. 

“Yes, we’ve wanted to meet you for a long time,” Gideon echoed. 

Lucie squeezed his arm to encourage him. 

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” uncle Gabriel said. He didn’t give him time to answer, because he enveloped his nephew in a hug. 

Jesse didn’t know how to react to that. He didn’t expect all of this excitement, this warm welcome. So he just patted his uncle’s back until he was ready to let him go. Once they separated, Gabriel seemed quite moved. The thought that someone other than Lucie and Grace cared about him to the point of tearing up, made him want to cry as well. He felt tired. He grinned, trying to hold back the tears. 

“Why don’t we all get inside? They’ve travelled a long way, they should rest,” Gideon suggested, and the others nodded in agreement. 

The group split once they got inside. Tessa greeted them and went her own way with her husband, letting everyone know that they would not join them for dinner, but they would surely see each other later. Jesse wondered what dinner, since it was likely after nine, but he had to admit he was hungry. He’d missed being hungry. 

“Bridget has prepared dinner for you,” Cecily said, once they gathered in the drawing room. “She also prepared something for James, but he fled on his horse after he told us you were coming.”

“Do you like chicken soup, Jesse? That’s what she said she’d made,” Gideon added. “But with that woman, you never know,” he shrugged.

“I like everything,” he answered. “Anything is fine.”

“Would you like to stay with us?” Gabriel inquired, making everyone turn in his direction. Cecily seemed to glare at him, murmuring that he had just returned from a long trip and to give him a break. 

“Wow, Gabriel. You didn’t even let him rest. You don’t have to respond now, Jesse. And, by the way, that offer also stands on my part,” Gideon said.

“Gideon!” Gabriel huffed. “That’s not fair.”

“Please, do not argue over me, Mr. Lightwood. I do not wish to be the cause of your discussion,” Jesse replied solemnly, silencing everyone.

“Don’t worry, no one is arguing in this room,” Sophie said. “They always bicker like that.”

“Yes, we do,” Gabriel said, crossing his arms on his chest. “And we’re also both very serious about this offer. Promise you’ll think about it? Do not feel pressured.”

“Yes, Jesse. Take your time choosing between me and uncle Gabriel. Or choose no one, for that matter. Just know that we are here for you.”

“Thank you,” he simply answered, not being able to say much more. He knew that they both meant it, and he was grateful. He couldn’t have put into words if he tried to. But it was too much for a day. Jesse managed the unpteenth smile of the night. He never thought he would smile so much in one day, that he’d feel his jaw hurt. Was this what it felt like to be loved by your family?

“I’m so tired, I guess I’m going to bed,” Lucie said, standing up from the spot next to his. She probably understood that he was done for the night, and wanted to be alone.

Everyone stood up, and said goodbye. Jesse greeted everyone with formality. His uncles and aunts didn’t tell him to call them by their names. They probably comprehended that he needed time, that this was too sudden, and they had never seen each other. They were strangers in his eyes, even if he didn’t seem to be a stranger to them. 

Uncle Gabriel told them he would tell Will or Tessa that they were going, and that they were alone in the drawing room. Jesse didn’t think his uncle knew about their relationship, but perhaps he suspected there was something. He was still a stranger in there, a stranger in the same room as an unmarried woman. 

“It was easier, when I could fade. Whenever I didn’t want to talk anymore,” Jesse said, when everyone left. “I could just disappear.”

Lucie nodded, sitting down on the sofa again. He followed her. “Do you miss it?”

“Being a ghost? No, Lucie, no,” he replied with confidence, caressing her cheek. “But I have to admit, all of this,” he shook his head. “Thank you for making them go.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know they would come, or else I would have told them to go. I’m sorry, Jesse.”

“It’s not your fault. Not theirs, either. I just - feel. I felt their interest, their fondness of me. And it,” he sighed. “And I don’t know if I deserve it. It is odd. Being loved by someone. Receiving affection from people who share my blood, even if we never met before.”

“Everyone deserves love,” she said. 

At that, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears came freely. They marred his face with water and salt, something he’d never thought he’d feel again on his skin. Lucie opened her arms, letting his head settle on her shoulder. His hand grabbed one of hers, while her other hand brushed the side of his arm to soothe him. She let him weep in silence until he had enough. And in that moment, Jesse felt very lucky to be so loved and understood.

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed, send me a PM): @princesslucinda @kit-12 @immortal-enemies @lucian-evander @esa-emery @danieldyers @blackthorn-trash @rinadragomir @fortunesandfables @itsdaughterofthemoon @silvenys@thomastair3 @livvyheronstairs @ holding-infinity-and-a-book @lovelaces @axoloteca @autumnangel20 @cordelia-cardale

[guigz1-coldwar]

'An savior' : an new chapter for "The woman with an strange name" is out !

Chapter Summary : After helping the gunsmith to make an delivery to 'Fort Hollister', Bell is returning to Redemption with him before the end of the day.....and the invitation to Adler's place.....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Taglist : @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart , @smokeywhalee (If anyone want to be added, feel free to tell me, same thing for my main fic "Redemption of an Spirit in an Cold War')

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She did what she had to do but she never thought about what will happen during that protection of the gunsmith's wagon to deliver boxes filled with either guns, ammo or both at the same time to the US Army fort connected to Adler's gang. To say that in two days, she killed 3 person in legitimate defense....it was looking like the city of Redemption was maybe going to face more events like this that could change everything but for the moment, it wasn't the time to think about it.

It took almost more than 10 minutes for the soldiers to take out every box from the wagon and it was 10 long minutes for Bell & Woods, surrounded by walls & soldiers that were still curious about her presence here. Then, the two could finally breath freely as they were authorized to go away, leaving the fort behind them to go back to Redemption, an bit exhausted from the events of the day but for Bell, the day wasn't really over....she still has to go to that invitation with the sheriff to see the mayor....

"Woods." Bell started, wanting to have an talk with the gunsmith as they were at 1 kilometer from the city, she was curious about something that she heard about in the fort. Of course, she was still armed with the Winchester 1886 he gave her in case.

"Yes, miss ?" He said, looking in front of him at his seat, focused on making the wagon arrive at its destination.

"I have heard something about you in that fort that is making me curious." She told him directly, causing him to make an questioning face. "I heard the commander calling you 'Sergeant Woods'." She added, her eyes on her rifle before looking back at him. "You were in the army ?"

"Of course, I was." He replied, not sure if he needed to be proud or not about his service in the army. "I served in the army for almost 10 years and I resigned an year ago." He continued, giving her more infos about himself.

"I can see that war wasn't something to be proud of." Bell stated, seeing his face going slower to not be too proud of the army....must be the state of the army they saw back in the fort doing that.... "Why did you resign ?" She demanded.

"I was having enough about been ordered to do this, do that, you know." He responded as Bell was already knowing what he was talking about, Woods wasn't the man to like authority of his superiors and his voice....it was sure saying the truth. "It was at the end of the Spanish-American War that I resigned before coming here."

"You were born in here, maybe ?" She questioned but he shook his head.

"No, I was born in Philadelphia but I didn't want to return over there, it had changed too much, that civilization." He claimed, preferring the Old West than the modern technology except if it was about guns...there, he was liking it, the only exception...."And also because I wanted to stay with my friends : Lawrence & Alex." He added.

"The priest and the doctor ?" He nodded to her question, revealing two others veterans at her eyes.

"Yes, we were friends back in the days but war did change us : Mason had an troubled past so he became an priest to try to change things & Sims became an doctor, still staying in his domain like me." He expressed, an little smile on his face as the wagon was arriving in the city limits on an side road. "What about you ?" He asked her as for him, he was the one wanting to know now.

"I don't know if I can talk about this." She whispered as this subject was hard for her to talk about.

"Come on, I told you about me, talk about you." He pressed her to talk as the wagon was coming near his shop.

"Maybe later but not now." She affirmed again her opinion as Woods finally stopped the wagon in front of his armory, ending the ride back here. The two got off the wagon without any talks and they entered his shop, looking not sure to talk about this anymore.

"So, thank you again for helping me." He thanked again as she was putting the Winchester on the counter but he gestured to her. "No, you can keep it if you want, it's your reward." He explained, putting the rifle back in her hands even if she didn't have any holstler for an gun like that with her.

"I don't know..." She chuckled, checking her rifle in her hands before nodding, taking it with her. "I will buy something for it tomorrow to hold it and some bullets along it." She said, an smile on her face as she hold the rifle with her right hand by its cannon.

"You will not have to pay it, I can offer it to you." He proposed to her about that.

"If you want but only tomorrow, I've got an invitation to honor." She announced to him but on his face, it was looking that he was aware of the situation about her, Adler & the sheriff.

"Yes, I heard of it, Adler invitating you & old Lazar to his house...that's an first." He exclaimed, going back on the other side of the counter to face her, biting her lips to think about the leader here, invitating an friend and an stranger to his house. "Anyway, I hope that you're good now."

"Yeah, I'm good." She confirmed before she decided that it was time to maybe go and leave him alone, her task now done with him. "Well, I'm leaving you now, good day, Woods." She make an sign with her hat to him as he salute her as he didn't wear any hat before she left the shop.

She didn't receive any money but that wasn't something she wanted actually, an talk was just all she wanted and adding to that, she received another gun from him : an Winchester 1886. It was almost making her the most armed person in town with 4 guns on her : two semi-automatic pistols, an revolver and now an repeater rifle. But she preferred to not have too much on her, she was good with her pistols & revolver for the moment.

At first, she decided to return to her hotel room, saluting the sheriff still at his porch along the way, to put her rifle in it, not wanting to keep it when she will have to go to the mayor's house, she knows that her guns are maybe going to be confiscated by Adler's men. Once she put it back on the only chair in the room, she didn't know what she could possibly do after helping the gunsmith to make his delivery.

Now, she didn't want to kill anyone else as her last job involved her to kill 2 mexicans thieves and she couldn't go back to the sheriff, preferring to talk to him once the two were ready to go to the mayor's house and like he said, there were other person in town than him. There were either the priest, Alex Mason or the doctor, Lawrence Sims to go talk to....she went for the second option as she wanted to know how was her horse for the moment.

"Doctor !" She started after arriving near the stables where she saw him working, the door were widely open and she entered the stables, seeing him near the box her horse 'Butterfly' was.

"Oh, hello, miss Bell !" He saluted her as he was cleaning the gloves he was wearing, removing them to shook hands with her. "I'm surprised to see you here." He claimed after the shake of hands.

"I wanted to know how my horse was." She told him clearly, gesturing to the box he was near before she arrived here.

"Your horse is fine with me." He explained, gesturing to her to follow him near the box where she could see her horse, still laid down but looking better than last day. "I gave her more meds and she's looking better but I think that she should stay here for an few days." He continued, crossing his arms on the box's door, an smile on Bell's face to see her horse.

"So, I have to stay here for an few more days...." She whispered, putting her hands on the door too. "That doesn't really bother me to be honest." She revealed to him, remembering the sad nodding he did with the sheriff an day ago.

"Really ? I thought that you were an bit disturbed by that ?" She shook his head to him.

"That's okay, I met fine people in town that make me pass the time." She affirmed, her eyes looking outside the stables and removing her hands from the door.

"Yeah, I saw that you came into help with Woods earlier." He said, also removing his arms from the box to look at her. "How did it goes by the way ?" He asked her.

"It went fine if we don't count the fact that we got attacked by an group of mexicans." She replied, not sure about how she could feel about them despite their attentions. "You know anything about that ?" She demanded from him even if she wasn't sure if he was going to give an answer to her.

"Not so much but I heard things from the few Adler's guys that come to get heal." He expressed, moving away to lean against an barrel as Bell was staying at her place, her full attention on him. "They said that the gang was having troubles with an mexican gang in the south." He declared, getting Bell's curiosity to the max.

"Adler's gang seems to be at war with them, according to what I heard from the soldiers in the fort." She recited, mentioning the few talks she was able to catch in that fort from the soldiers that was passing near her when she was still on that wagon. "To change, I heard that you, the priest & Woods were old buddies from war, is that true ?" She changed the subject, seeing Sims wasn't so comfortable with talking about Adler.

"That's true, miss." He responded in an low voice, taking an ledger in his hands to check something. "We were in the US Army and our last war we did....."

"Was the Spanish-American War." She completed, cutting him gently as his eyes went wide at hearing her. "Woods told me about it, said you were the best in your domain." She admitted, causing an little smile to appear on his face.

"Woods been Woods." He scoffed, putting the ledger away back on that barrel to walk near the stables doors, soon followed by Bell. "He did tell you why we installed ourselves here ?" He questioned her and she nodded despite that Woods didn't really tell her much.

"He said that he didn't want to return to the East." She said, leaning herself against the door frame.

"Yeah but also because the sheriff, the old Lazar, I'm an friend of him so we all decided to install ourselves here to be with him." He responded to her, giving more informations about how three old veterans decided to live in Arizona in that city. "Guess that it was the good choice even with everything that happened."

"Yes, seeing this city like that isn't very enjoying." She proclaimed, looking outside, seeing the few people walking on the main road, the few wagons and also, the armed men making patrols around the streets. "How long this is happening ?"

"Been months that we all live under occupation, an few days after we got here." Sims replied, crossing his arms, also looking outside. "We could have run away but we preferred to stay despite Adler ruling the city." He added.

"You did an good choice, maybe." She suggested as living under that state wasn't an lot pleasant to do but then....her eyes were focused on someone that was passing through the street with an red dress....Miss Park....she was walking alone with an little umbrella and even of the rules....Bell couldn't remove her eyes off her.

"Are you looking to her ?" Sims asked, seeing Bell almost in her thoughts and knowing that she was having her eyes on the only person it's forbidden to look.

"Well....yeah, I'm looking at her." She answered, not even ashamed of doing so, looking back at him for an second. "It's not because there's an rule about her that we can't resist to look at her." She exclaimed, giving her thought about that stupid rule in place but then, she could see miss Park getting diverted on her way by two men behind her between two building....something was off..."Uhm....I have to go, thanks an lot, Sims." She told him, making an sign with her hat.

"I do what I need to do, goodbye miss Bell." He saluted her, going back inside the stables as Bell was slowly walking into the main street.

She knew that something was off when she saw this two men behind miss Park, they weren't looking like Adler's men to her, very different and it was looking like an kidnapping, having seen the men holding each of miss Park's arms to get in an alley between 2 buildings. She looked around her, seeing no armed men from Adler around, meaning that she needed to do the job and to maybe help miss Park. She arrived near the alley they took, preparing her two pistols below her elbows.

"Hey, let me go !" Bell could hear Park's voice in the alley as she peaked her head to discover the two men, looking like undercovers mexicans, holding her with her back on the wall.

"Cállate, chica ! [Shut up, woman !]" One of the mexicans ordered, putting his hand on her mouth to avoid her to scream for help.

"Karla la necesita para un rescate, ten cuidado. [Karla needs her for an ransom, watch out.]" The other mexican warned to his friends, giving more informations about the situation about Adler's tensions with the said-mexicans to Bell. "Debemos llevarla sin ruido y sin lastimarla. [We need to take her without an noise and without hurting her.]" He added, Bell understanding everything as she was taking her two Modele 1899 in hands.

"Claro, pero nos lo pondrá más difícil si sigue moviéndose. [Of course but she's going to complicate the job if she doesn't stop moving.]" The first mexican expressed as he was trying to stop miss Park to move too much away from him but it was then time for Bell....

"Let her go !" Bell intervened inside the alley, aiming at the two mexicans with her guns and making them almost jumpscare from their spot, the first mexican still holding miss Park against the wall.

"Gonzalez, es una chica. [Gonzalez, it's an girl.]" The second mexican chuckled, his hand on the grip of his revolver and unadvertantly reveal the first mexican name.

"Vete, no es tu problema, chica.[Go away, that's not your problem.]" Gonzalez demanded, his voice trembling to be hold at gunpoint.

" ¡Tendrás problemas si no la dejas ir! [You will have problems if you don't let her go !]" Bell spoke up, using an perfect spanish accent to them, taking an step forwards slowly to advance to them. her two Modele 1899 aiming at each mexican.

" Hablas buen español, cual es tu nombre ? [You speaking well spanish, what's your name ?]" Gonzalez asked, his hands still on miss Park's mouth and her left shoulder as his friend was still frightened, his hand on his holstler.

"Me llamo Bell ! [My name is Bell !]" She replied, taking another step arriving at almost 2 meters from the group. "I'm not repeating myself, let her go !" She asked again, returing to english, pulling the hammer of her pistols down, ready to shoot both.

"¡Ven y tómalo! [Come get her !]" Gonzalez exclaimed, making an sign to his friend to attack while he was keeping miss Park away

"As you wish." Bell scoffed as the mexican was starting to charge at but the only thing he received was an punch from her with her pistol still in her right hand, causing the mexican to fall behind him on an wall. She got her left pistol back on her holstler, keeping her right one in her hand, moving to attack the mexican against the wall.

"Putà ! [Bitch !]" Gonzalez shouted, seeing his friend getting overpowered by an woman until suddenly, he screamed in pain, miss Park deciding to bite his hand that was covering her mouth, making him fall on his ass, holding his hand in pain before getting ready to pull out his revolver until....

"Don't think about it, friend !" An voice came behind him, revealing the sheriff Azoulay himself before he punched in the voice, breaking his nose and then, moving quickly to take Gonzalez's revolver off his holstler.

"Sheriff, what are you doing here ?" Bell questioned him as he finished with the mexican, throwing him aside next to Gonzalez.

"I saw you following miss Park and I knew that there were something wrong so I decided to see what was going on." He responded, moving to take the other mexican's gun in his hand as miss Park was taking an deep breath aside.

"You're alright, miss Park ?" Bell was the one to ask that question, worried about her.

"Yeah...I'm alright, thank you, miss." She replied, relieved to have been saved by these two person as Bell offered her hand, an bit trembling in front of miss Park in person.

"I'm Bell." She whispered in an low voice, blushing to be honest.

"I'm...Helen Park, thank you both to having save me." She said, bringing an smile on Bell's face as the two shook hands, the sheriff keeping the two mexicans on the ground.

"It's miss Bell that did the work, miss Park." The sheriff told her, not wanting to share the honors as he was just here to help, it was Bell who managed to get this situation to end better. "No need to thank me." He added before Bell moved to get next to him, still blushing from talking to miss Park.

" Dile a tu jefe que no buscamos problemas con la señora llamada Bell y sus amigas.[Tell your boss to not search troubles with the lady called Bell and her friends.]" Bell ordered to Gonzalez, still holding his nose in pain who nodded.

"Si, senora Bell.[Yes, miss Bell.]" Gonzalez chuckled, seeing the deadly glare on his face as his friend were slowly getting up along with him, scared by her and the sheriff.

"Ve o te la regalamos a Adler. [Go or we're giving you away to Adler.]" Bell threatened and the two mexicans nodded, quickly fleeing away out of the alley in fear, leaving the trio alone in it before suddenly, out of nowhere, Bell could feel lips on her left cheek, discovering miss Park making an little kiss to her, blushing to the maximum she could.

"Thank you, miss Bell. You're an real savior for me." Miss Park expressed, full of joice before she start to leave the alley too, to return to the mayor's house as she needed to do and when she left, Bell's eyes never got off her, still stunned by that kind of move from her, even the sheriff couldn't believe it, making an tap on Bell's shoulder to pull her out of her thoughts....

"Wow, it seems that she like you....it's time for our invitation to go to Adler's house."

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 27/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Gold has a surprise for Belle.

Notes: Stupid Gold family fluff, basically. The next chapter is almost done!

[AO3]

More than a week passed, filled with heavy snows, bitterly cold winds, and too many hours indoors.

After eight days cooped up indoors, Belle was aching to breath fresh air. Fortunately, they had two days in a row of sunshine, so far, which allowed the main path through the garden to be cleared. Though it was still cold, the bright sun and the lack of wind made it more than tolerable. Bundled up in their cloaks, hoods, and gloves, she and Baeden had taken a turn through it after breakfast. Though she knew there would be at least two more months of winter, it was a welcome respite all the same to be within nature, and it reminded her that there would be much to see come the spring. She had arrived at Thornhill in the last weeks of autumn, when the majority of the garden and grounds had gone dormant, and the prospect of seeing her new home in full bloom was something she clung to when the wind howled outside her window.

Baeden kicked at a piece of loose ice with his shoe. It rolled like a misshapen rock and came to rest a few feet ahead of them, on Belle’s side of the path. She smiled to herself and when she came to it, kicked further down the way, making Bae laugh. They continued like that, back and forth, until it ricocheted off of a stone planter and shattered into many small pieces.

“Well, that was disappointing,” she said with a frown.

Beside her, Bae nodded, and then changed the subject. “Belle, if I had a horse would you want to go riding with me?”

She looked at him with a bemused smile. “Of course I would! Are you planning on getting a horse?”

“I’ll have to ask Papa,” he replied. Then he huffed a little and pulled his gloved hands from the pockets of his coat. “I’m eleven,” he continued, “I’m old enough to have a horse, and to learn to ride it properly. Don’t you think so?”

Belle bit her lip. His hands waved about as he spoke, emphasizing his words, and it was so like his father that it pulled at her heart. “I do. If you like, I can be with you when you speak to your Papa.”

Bae smiled as they rounded the path around the fountain and headed back towards the house. “Good! He’s more likely to say yes if you’re there.”

She was in agreement, partly because she loved riding so much, and was already entertaining the delightful idea of having someone to do that with her, but also because she’d had a horse since she was nine. Eleven was long passed time to have one in her mind. It occurred to her that there was no reason why she couldn’t have Philippe brought to Thornhill, though it would probably have to wait until the spring. Perhaps she could talk to Cameron about it while they were on the long carriage ride to the palace.

The palace and the New Year’s ball was something she had been trying very hard not to think about too much. Her nerves had already gotten the better of her on the subject once, and she was resolved not to let it happen again, and to keep her wits about her whilst they were there. At least she could look forward to seeing Lady Ella again, and perhaps Ariel and Eric would attend. It would be good to see familiar faces and old friends.

What might they think of her now, she wondered, married, titled, and seeped in royal politics. Well, that last part was a secret as far as she knew, and the less anyone was aware of it, the better. Still, she wondered how they all would regard her, both her friends and the royal court. Her broken engagement to Sir Gaston was widely known, as was, she presumed, her marriage to Cameron. It had been without the usual engagement period, and was a minimally attended affair, which she knew lent itself to all sorts of implications and rumors. Sadly, some of them were true.

Would they see the ruined woman they thought she was, or the one who was fighting for her place in the world, and to hold onto what was dear?

“Belle?”

Bae’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and she realized they had walked the rest of the way back to the house in companionable silence.

“I think it’s time for tea,” he added.

She smiled at him. “Yes, Bae, I think it is.” Then she leaned down and whispered, “And I think Ms. Potts has made the chocolate tarts again.”

His eyes lit up, and they both broke into wide grins. She took hold of his hand, and they took off at a light jog the rest of the way to the patio doors, laughing the whole way.

Gold felt he had never been busier than this last week.

The weather had not only caused innumerable problems with the movement of goods around the northern part of the kingdom, but a number of issues had also cropped up around the estate. The roof of one of the old out buildings had partially collapsed under the weight of all the snow, and ice had formed in between several stones on the façade of the house itself, cracking them and making them break away from the structure. One such stone resulted in a window breaking at the east end of the first floor, which was mostly servants quarters, but a missing window had led to all sorts of minor issues with cold and damp.

In the midst of it all, he’d been struck by an idea. They had been relocating some of the items from the damaged building to an unused portion of the stables, when he realized that neither he nor Belle had broached the subject of bringing her horse to Thornhill. It seemed ridiculous that they hadn’t already done so, and once he’d thought of it, he determined that it should happen before they departed for the palace. The recent change in the weather seemed to provide the perfect opportunity.

He’d written to Desmond and Maurice on Monday, and, despite the snow, received a response within two days. They were in agreement as well, and promised to send someone with Philippe as soon as the snow abated. The trip would be two fold, in that Gold had also promised to send back a number of supplies including bags of grain and flour and other staples to hopefully alleviate the struggles in Avonlea. He knew things were likely far more dire than was stated in their letters, and while that issue was something for Belle to handle directly with Desmond, he was of a mind to assist them before it reached a state of desperation. He had known what it was like to not be able to provide in the middle of a harsh winter, and he flatly refused to allow it to happen to others when he was able to do something about it.

An express letter had been sent this morning from Avonlea stating that Philippe was on his way, and Gold could hardly focus on the contracts he needed to review. He wanted it to be a surprise, something to distract Belle from their upcoming trip and its potential impact, and that would give her something to look forward to upon their return. Now that it was imminent, it seemed to be all he could think about.

Sighing, he stood up and stretched and walked over to the window at the far end of his study to look out onto the snowy landscape of the garden. Two figures came running up towards the house, their coats and cloaks fanning out behind them. He leaned forward and then broke into a wide smile when he saw it was Bae and Belle. They seemed to be laughing as they ran, and the sight filled him with a joyful warmth.

Belle was not the type of woman who let her status or title dictate how she behaved. She didn’t stand on ceremony for the sake of it, or hold herself to a different standard than she expected of others. It was perhaps the thing he most appreciated about her.

A glance at the clock showed it was time for tea, and he decided work could wait while he spent some time with his wife and son.

Belle knew her husband was up to something.

Gold had been speaking with Jefferson when she and Bae came in from their walk, barreling through the doors of the patio, rosy cheeked and shaking with laughter. Jefferson lowered his voice to finish what he was saying, and then quickly left the room. Gold , meanwhile, seemed entirely too interested in what they were having with tea, which was unusual as he typically didn’t care for sweets until after dinner.

She let the matter go, but then Jefferson came back a few minutes later, and the look he exchanged with Gold could only be described as conspiratorial. She eyed them both, but they ignored it and struck up a benign conversation and the supplies that were being sent to Avonlea. Bae noticed nothing but the tray of cakes and biscuits.

Once they’d all had their fill of hot tea and sweets, they moved to sit in the adjacent sitting room. After a few minutes, Jefferson went to see about something or other, and Belle was about to interrogate her husband as to what was really going on, when Jefferson returned.

“I believe it’s time,” he said, ducking his head through the doorway, briefly, before retreating again.

Gold stood, smiling, and came over to where Belle was seated on the sofa with Bae. “Would you come outside with me for a moment?”

Belle frowned. “What is going on?”

Gold’s smile grew as he held out his hand for her to take. “I have a surprise for you.”

She looked over at Bae, who seemed to be as confused as she was, and then back to Gold. After eyeing him a moment, she put her hand in his and stood, letting him lead her out of the sitting room and into the main hallway. Astrid was waiting with a grin and another of her heavy winter cloaks.

“It seems everyone is in on this,” she muttered.

“I’m not!” chimed Bae. He appeared as excited about this surprise as he would if it was for him, and was already pulling on his coat and gloves, prepared to follow all of them out the front door.

Belle settled her cloak over her shoulders and fastened the clasps at the front just as Gold was coming to her side. He had put on his dark blue overcoat, trimmed with gold stitching, which she had to admit she found very appropriate and very fetching on him. He offered her his arm, and she gave him a narrow look as she accepted it. It must have amused him because he chuckled softly and patted her hand as he led her to the door.

The carriage was parked out front, along with one of the supply wagons, and she frowned. “Are we going somewhere?”

Gold shook his head. “No, but perhaps you might be.”

Jefferson was waiting next to the carriage, and as soon as everyone was outside, he gave the coachman a nod. The carriage went in one direction, the wagon in the opposite, and they parted to reveal a sizable chestnut colored horse standing between them. Belle blinked, and then a second later let out a delighted squeal as she bounded down the front steps.

“Philippe!” she exclaimed, hurrying to the horse’s side. Immediately, the beast seemed to recognize her presence, and nudged her with his nose as she took the reins from the man holding them. “Did you miss me?”

Philippe whinnied loudly and pushed at her free hand until she opened her palm. “I’m afraid I don’t have any treats for you. I didn’t know you were coming to visit me!”

“I’d hoped he was planning on staying,” Gold said, coming down the steps and over to where Belle stood with her horse. “We’ve made a spot for him in the stables.”

She looked over at her husband, her lips pressed together before she broke into a wide grin. Letting go of the reins, she threw her arms up and around his neck, pulling herself against him in a tight hug. He let out a light grunt, and after a brief moment, returned the gesture by putting his arms gently around her torso. She took longer than he anticipated to let go, and when she did she was beaming up at him, her eyes sparkling in the winter sun and so very blue. He’d never noticed what a striking color they were, and when she finally pulled away from him, he felt almost dazed by the realization.

“How did you know?” she asked.

Gold shook his head. “Know what?”

Her cheeks had started to hurt from smiling, but she couldn’t stop. It was as if Cameron had read her mind, when she’d only just decided to speak with him about bringing Philippe here. There was a fullness of affection in her chest that made her want to hug him again, but she was aware that they were not alone.

“I was going to ask you if I could bring Philippe here,” she explained. “But here he is.”

He laughed. “Well, great minds, as they say.”

She giggled and turned back to her horse, who had not stopped nudging and bumping against her arm for attention. “I wish it wasn’t so late in the afternoon, or we could go for a ride.”

Gold frowned. “There’s at least two hours of daylight left, and more before dinner.”

Belle looked over her shoulder at Gold. “You don’t mind.”

He shook his head and stepped closer. “I will never mind you doing what makes you happy.”

“Thank you.”

She took his hand, giving it a grateful squeeze, before handing the reins off and hurrying back into the house with Bae and Astrid trailing after her. Gold smiled at her back and then turned to Philippe, giving him a gentle rub on his neck.

“Well, I think you’ve made your mistress quite happy indeed.”

“And so have you,” Jefferson said quietly. He smirked at Gold as the horse was led away by one of the stable hands to be saddled.

Gold gave him a look, and then turned to head back inside. “I’m not sure I know what you mean by that statement.”

Jefferson fell into step beside him. “Just that the mistress of the house seems very pleased with your surprise.”

“Again, I’m not certain I know your meaning.”

Gold gave him another sideways look as they stepped into the house, and Jefferson laughed. “I mean exactly what I said, and if you think I’m implying something else, then you should perhaps ask yourself why that is.”

Gold stopped and spun on his heel to face Jefferson, his voice low as he spoke. “There is nothing to imply, and you know it.”

“Do I”?” he replied, eyebrows raised and a coy smile curving his mouth. “One might say you two have become quite...close.”

Gold sighed and rolled his eyes. “You know it’s not -”

At that moment, Belle came down the stairs, having changed into her riding dress. Her hair was pulled into a thick braid that lay over one shoulder, with a few loose locks falling free over her forehead and curling at the ends. She was still smiling, and came over to where Gold and Jefferson were talking as Astrid straightened her cloak once more.

“It’s not what?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Gold said. “Jefferson is just giving me grief.”

She nodded. “Well, he is very good at his job.”

“Indeed,” Gold grumbled, as Jefferson and Belle shared a laugh. Then he felt Belle pull at his arm, and the next thing he knew, she was hugging his arm, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. He looked down at her, her face slightly squashed as she grinned up at him. “And what’s this for?”

She let go and shrugged, then turned so Astrid could help her put on her cloak. “I’ll be back before dinner,” she said to all three of them. Then she breezed out the front door and over to the path that led to the stables.

Astrid waved after her, and then headed back upstairs, leaving Gold and Jefferson alone again.

Jefferson bumped his shoulder against Gold’s as he turned. “It’s not what?” he asked, grinning cheekily.

Gold shot a glare at him, and then shrugged off his overcoat, handing it off to one of the maids before making his way back upstairs to his study. He closed the door behind him and walked straight across the room to the windows that look out onto the front of the house. Belle was already on Philippe, walking him up to the main gate, and Gold watched as she led the horse through and to the right, no doubt having been given directions by one of the stable hands as to where the riding path was that led around the edge of the estate. He smiled as he saw her give her horse a light flick with the reins, urging Philippe into a quick trot, and followed her form until she disappeared around the trees and out of sight.

He knew Jefferson was only teasing, but he was uncertain if others might have the wrong impression of his relationship with Belle. While they were married and it was hardly a scandal if people assumed all that came with that, he wasn’t sure if Belle would feel the same way. But then he supposed it might make their appearance at the palace all the more troublesome if there were no such assumptions.

Gold frowned as he considered that his plan might backfire spectacularly.

[shimmeringclouds]

❀ | ④

╔═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╗ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 ╚═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╝

Delicate strokes to your hair woke you from your slumber. You grumbled, mind still disoriented. The hand sifting through your locks paused for a split second before continuing.

Blearily opening your eyes, you saw your mother, sat beside you on your bed, which you didn't remember getting into. She smiled down at you warmly, the crow's feet settled into the corners of her eyes adding a twinkle to her gaze.

"My daughter has finally awoken, I see," she chuckled. You squinted at her, not entirely hearing what she was saying, until you moved your upper body and rested your head on her lap. She laughed louder, allowing you to nestle comfortably against her.

"... time is it..?" You croaked, to tired to even bother forming a full sentence.

"Just past nine o'clock, dear. I'm surprised; usually you're up by eight." She raised a brow at you, but you ignored her, keeping your eyes closed. They felt sore and itchy, and most likely looked a soft shade of pink. You knew this.

"[Y/N], you need to wake up soon," there was a gentle nudge to your shoulder. "Your father has many things planned for you today."

You groaned loudly. That was the last thing you wanted. It was foolish to have it, but you had a small slither of hope left in you as you asked slowly:

"...Is he still here?"

A moment of silence, and then a sigh.

"You should have joined us for breakfast, dear. He truly is a nice fellow."

"No, he isn't." You sat up abruptly, turning away from her. A cold shiver ran through you as your arms became exposed. Glancing down, you saw you were wearing your night wear instead of your dress. It was then you realised your mind was on autopilot last night.

"[Y/N], please..."

"I'm not like you!" A stiff pause. "I can't see the good in people the way you do. So how do you expect me to see anything in him? A man who knows nothing of the world other than the fantasies he has been brought up with?"

You received no answer. Standing from your bed, you marched over to your dresser, pulling open the drawers. Something caught your eye, and you froze.

The vase you kept on your dresser was always empty. You came to dislike filling it with flowers, as the dying petals would always make a mess. It annoyed you to no end, how quickly flowers could wilt away. Too quickly.

But here, now, it was full. Fresh and vibrant hyacinths were placed in the vase, their petals bursting full of colour and life. They weren't leaning heavily to one side, like yours used to. They stood tall and proud, soaking up the sunlight just entering your room.

"Prince Karamatsu asked the maids to send these up to you." You flinched at the name.

"The only reason you cannot see the good in others is because you are always looking for the bad. If that's all you can see, then you will remain blind to the good." Your mother stood, leaving the room. Grasping the handle to your door, she looked back to you one more time, a smile still present. It looked all too familiar.

"He is not a bad person. Give him a chance."

The door shut behind her with a soft thud, leaving the room silent once more. You brought your gaze back to the flowers. They just had to be purple, didn't they?

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

"Horse riding?" you cringed. You eyed the horses with disdain, taking a step back as one of them shook their mane.

Your father came over to your side, hands on his hips as he smiled proudly at the selection of horses before him. Karamatsu was over by his own white-haired horse which had been brought over for him, busy patting its nuzzle with a fond smirk.

"But of course! The weather is perfect for it, don't you think?"

"No.." you grumbled under your breath, somewhat glad he hadn't heard you. Your father also went over to feed an apple to his horse, taking a brush and smoothing out its chestnut hair. You stood frigidly, unsure of what to do. You were desperate to walk back to the castle, but something was stopping you. And it was irritating you, how you couldn't figure out what it was.

Slowly, your eyes wandered around the stable, trailing over the golden hay scattered across the floor, to the resting horses, to the walls... then to him.

He didn't look any different from the first time you had met him. He looked so unbothered by the encounter he had with you last night, despite sending you those flowers. You found it unfair, how easy it was for him to hide his emotions like that.

Karamatsu felt something on him. He turned to you, his dark eyes connecting with your own and, for a split second, the world became still. There was no noise, no movement. Just the two of you, in a single frame. He nodded towards you, his smirk morphing into a smile.

"Princess—" You jolted, catching your surprised yelp before it could leave your throat. Your brow twitched as you turned on your heel, glowering at your butler.

"What?"

"M-My apologies!" Tanuki stammered, clearing his throat. "Your steed is ready for you, Princess," the older man bowed formally, guiding you out of the stable and onto the flat grassland. A black horse, a very strong looking one at that, stood idly before you, it's equally black eyes staring into nothing.

You grabbed a hold of Tanuki, pulling him to one side as you hissed into his ear.

"Tanuki, this is ridiculous!"

"I understand, but I am afraid there is nothing I can do, Princess..."

"Yes, there is! Take me to my study room!"

"Your father ordered me to keep you here for this activity, Princess," he sighed, eyeing you sympathetically. He gently coaxed your iron grip on his arm off of him, gesturing to the horse.

"You must brave through it."

He stepped away, just as your father and Karamatsu came out of the stables atop their horses, chatting away as they manoeuvred their beasts with ease. The twinge of jealousy you had felt before came back with full force, the burning fire of competition raging within you.

With new found resolution, you stepped up to the dark horse, stopping beside the saddle. You readied your hands against the leather, placing a foot in the small holster. Then, you paused. Then, you didn't move. Taking a deep breath, you willed yourself to push upwards and to sit on the damn horse, but your body wouldn't cooperate. The chatter from behind you had died down. Your brow twitched.

"My daughter, do you need some help?" You heard your father call, but you ignored him. You tried again with a huff, pushing up with all your might, barely lifting yourself off of the ground.

"Princess..."

"I don't need help!" You denied. You hated how your face burned in embarrassment. You felt like the court jester, making a complete fool of yourself. You knew this was a bad idea. How could your father have forgotten you didn't know how to ride a horse?

"Princess [Y/N]?"

"What?!"

You frustrated comments trailed off as a gloved hand was extended towards you. You followed it up, finding Karamatsu's kind face peering down at you.

"Perhaps it would be easier if you were to ride with me, instead?"

You were confused. What made him so different from everybody else? Why was he being so nice to you? You didn't need his pity, if that's what he was doing. You didn't need him to feel sorry for you. You didn't need him at all.

And yet, looking into his eyes, you saw no ill intent. Only a shimmer of hope. Hope for what? You couldn't understand. And you always understood everything.

You grit your teeth harshly.

With heavy reluctance, you grasped his outstretched palm, eyes widening by a fraction as he easily hauled you up to sit behind him, your skirts flowing off the side of his steed. Slowly, you placed your hands on his waist, not wanting to hold and be closer to him anymore than you already were.

"...Well, then," you father cleared his throat, stunned by what he had just witnessed, "Let's set off, shall we?" He tugged at his reigns, turning around and heading down the thin trail into the castle's forest. Karamatsu glanced back at you.

"Are you ready, Princess?"

"Just go already."

He chuckled softly in response, following behind the king. You wobbled in surprise at the sudden movement of the horse, gripping onto him just a tad bit tighter.

You peered around his broad shoulders, making sure that your father was out of earshot before you leaned up to his ear. You felt him shiver at the feeling of your warm breath hitting his skin. He tightened his hold on the reigns.

"Eh—?"

"Why purple? What do you have to be sorry for?"