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jeninthegarden · 2 years ago

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2023 Seed List

Up, up and away!

There was no fall planting. The summer’s drought really killed the fall harvest and depressed my gardening spirit. So, there will be no rest this spring! Timing is everything, particularly in the spring. The trellises must go up as soon as the soil can be worked. The peas and pea fences must be removed promptly so that they do not shade over seedlings and so the rutabaga can be planted in their place. The root crops and spinach and lettuce must be thinned sooner. The corn has to be planted sooner so it is strong enough for the beans. The tomatoes/eggplants/peppers must be separated and repotted sooner so they get bigger before they are transplanted. The greenhouse box greens have to be eaten sooner. The plants need to be fertilized at the correct time. The fences and gates must be secured, and stay secured so that the groundhog doesn’t get in. Some plants (corn, squash, sunflowers) must be germinated inside so the squirrels do not dig up the seeds and sprouts. Some plants (eggplant, peppers) must not be transplanted out until June because the sun’s angle will burn them in the spring.

Note that if I can, I purchase from PineTree Seeds because their prices are the lowest, always. This year, Johnny Seed has been the most expensive, so I have limited my purchases from them. I’ve also tried to get more seeds from Hudson Valley Seeds and Fruition Seeds because both companies are actually in my planting zone and offering seed varieties that grow here, and that I should therefor be able to grow here without too much difficulty. Note to self: many of my seed orders have come with a “10% off your next order” coupon, so I’m being rewarded for forgetting to order certain seeds, or for impulse shopping after my seed shopping is done.

The following seed list is comprised of just the edibles I am ordering.

Legumes:

Bush beans: “Velour” – no surprise. A compact, bush-habit plant, very heavy-bearing bright purple, stringless pods over a long season. This is my top choice for bush beans. Very heat and drought tolerant. This past season it was the only summer bean to produce. Finding it can be tricky, but this year I ordered it from PineTree Seeds.

Fava beans- I have a pack of Pinetree Seeds “Varoma” left from last year. “Sweet Loran” from Territorial Seeds is a fall sown variety that takes 250 days to germinate, so I’m committing to some fall sowing this year. But I am also buying “Aquadulce” from RH Shumway, which is the fastest growing variety, ready in just 80 days.

Noodle beans – I bought the delicious, nutty flavored. “Yardlong Red” from the Vermont Bean Seed Company last year and never got them in the ground. So will work on getting the trellises up early, since these are too heavy to grow on the corn stalks.

Pole beans- Not getting the corn planted meant none of these were planted. I still have Vermont Bean Seed Company’s “Tarbais” a small white, pole bean from a little village in the south of France of the same name, which are cassoulet beans, and “Succotash”, a marble shaped, black, pole bean that can be dried, which is thought to have originated in Rhode Island by the Narragansett Indian Tribe. “Winged Bean” aka asparagus bean was weird looking and weird tasting and I have grown it with limited success, so, yeah I bought some more (from PineTree Seeds).

Runner beans: Likewise, the runner beans were never planted. So, I have 2 packets of “Black Coat”, an ancient heirloom from Pinetree (which is a red-blossomed, black bean) left to be planted this year.

Shelling Peas: Going with “Alaska Early” again, from Territorial Seeds, just 57 days to maturity. And “Wando” from Eden Brothers which is both heat and drought tolerant.

Snap Peas: These produced well and were very tasty. We will plant all these again. “Sugar Magnolia”, which have violet pods, and “Spring Blush” a pink-tinted pod, and “Opal Creek” which are a golden green color, all from Pinetree.

Soybeans- I ordered “Karikachi” soybeans from Pinetree seeds, which are supposed to be tall and prolific. They certainly germinated well last year, but the groundhog was the only one to enjoy them.

Fruits:

“Cardoon” from Fruition Seeds – they are perennial, so I thought I’d attempt them this year.

Corn – “Sweetness” a fast-growing robust stalk sweet corn, and “Kandy Korn” a taller, standard season sweet corn, both from Territorial Seeds.

Cucumber- “Early Cluster Russian” from R H Shumway is a prolific, climbing cucumber. “Double-Yield” from Territorial Seeds is a vigorous and hardy variety good for pickling and slicing.

Eggplant – I decided to go with a Japanese fingerling “Ping Tung” and a standard globe Italian “Black Beauty”, both from Fruition Seeds because they are cultivated successfully in a nearby location.

Gourds- No gourds this year! This statement will be revised later when I impulsively buy gourd seeds.

Melon – They all germinated last year, but none grew or blossomed. Bought more “Iroquois Cantaloupe” (standard sized, thickly netted skin, good northern grower) from Hudson Valley Seed. And I bought “Navajo Gold” (a smooth skinned, yellow fleshed melon) from PineTree Seeds.

Okra – “Jambalaya” from Territorial Seeds is a cold hardy, compact plant.

Pepper – “Pica Chile Mix” (a mix of hot pepper seeds) from Hudson Valley Seed Company. “Fish Hot Pepper” an African cultivar, and “Monster yellow” an 8 inch bell peppers from Baker Creek. I still have a lot of saved seeds (also hot peppers) from making cowboy candy in the fall, so I will start some more. I don’t want to talk about Datil peppers of Saint Augustine, Florida right now; like the gourds, impulse buying is not hard to imagine.

Tomatoes – “Black Beauty” a blue/black beefsteak tomato, “Evil olive” a black, red and green cherry tomato, “Big Rainbow” a yellow, red, orange striped beefsteak tomato, “Bread and Salt” red, beefsteak tomato, all from Baker Creek. I have several varieties left from last year: “Climbing Triple Crop”, a red beefsteak that climbs 10-15 feet, “Pineapple” a beefsteak heirloom that is yellow with red blotches, and “Pork Chop” which is a large beefsteak yellow with dark green stripes. And I stumbled on a new hybrid from Fruition Seeds called “Finger Lakes Long Paste” that is a prolific and cold hardy paste tomato developed by Cornell University.

Watermelon: “Golden Midget” from Eden Brothers which is small and early fruiting with a yellow rind and pink interior. “Blacktail Mountain” from Baker Creek, smaller and cold hardy, green rind and pink flesh, easy to grow.

Winter Squash and pumpkins: “Cornell's Bush Delicata” (a bush variety delicata – I love delicata because it’s thin skin is edible when roasted), “Violina Rugosa Butternut” (a skinnier, elongated butternut with a very small seed cavity), “Long Island Cheese Pumpkin” (a very meaty round, orange squash) from Hudson Valley Seed Company. I have leftover also bought “Baked Potato” winter squash from Burpee. “Jarrahdale Blue pumpkin” a blue, dense pumpkin with meaty flesh for savory dishes, and “Marina de Chioggia” a warty, green pumpkin that is best for sweets and pies, both from Baker Creek.

Zucchini- I still have leftover seeds: Vermont Bean Seed Company catalogue “Vermont Hybrid Medley” pack of 4 types of zucchini: green, green-gold, gold and yellow, that are all compact bush varieties that grow well in the Northeast; a round green, French heirloom variety called “Rond de Nice”; a pale green, patty pan summer squash called “Peter Pan” from Burpee which is described as much meatier than other patty pan squash; and “Scalloped Blend” from Eden Brothers, of 6 different colored patty pan squash.

Roots:

Beets: “Brilliant Beet Blend” from Hudson Valley Seed Company. But then, because I want beet greens, I bought “Early Wonder Tall Top” from PineTree Seeds.

Carrot: pelleted seeds was a waste. So back to regular seeds, I’ve ordered “Oxheart” a round ball carrot and “Chanteney” a long variety, from PineTree Seeds. And I ordered “Rainbow Mix” from Eden brothers.

Celeriac: “Balena” from Johnny Seed, a larger and bolt resistant hybrid.

Parsley Root: “Arat” from Pinetree is a long, slender root that tastes like a cross between carrots and celeriac.

Parsnips: Ordered “Warrior” from Territorial Seed which is a foot long variety.

Potatoes: going back to growing them in containers. I will buy some from the store and sew them to avoid the horrible shipping costs. But am wanting to try Row 7’s butter flavored potato.

Radish: “Karami Green” is a green radish that is supposed to taste like wasabi. “Cherry Bell” is a 3-week radish good for spring or fall panting. Both are from Territorial Seeds. “Red King” a large, sweet daikon radish from Johnny Seed.

Rutabaga: “American Purple Top” from Eden Brothers, a good winter keeper with orange flesh.

Sweet Potatoes: “Japanese Marasaki” growing my own slips over winter. Will grow in containers.

Turnips: “Hinona Kabu Japanese” from Pinetree, these look like pink carrots and are specifically for pickling. Very good crop so I bought them again. “Purple Top” from RH Shumway, a traditional white globe, sweet turnip.

Greens:

Arugula: “Arugula” the fast growing spring variety from PineTree Seeds.

Chard: “Silverado Chard” large, white from Hudson Valley Seed Company.

“Claytonia” from Baker Creek. It is a succulent green that looks like a bouquet of little lily pads.

Escarole: “Bavarian Broadlead” from Eden brothers.

“Fenugreek” from Eden Brothers. Not popular – nobody else is selling them.

“Ice Lettuce” from Pinetree, which is not actually lettuce. It did not germinate last year, so I will try again.

Lettuce: “Flashy Butter Oak”, “Buttercrunch Bibb”, and “Blushed Butter Oak” lettuces from Hudson Valley Seed Company. “Chicken Lettuce” from R H Shumway is a lettuce that re-grows quickly and can withstand nibbling from chickens.

Mache: “Mache Green” from PineTree seeds because it was on sale.

“Mitsuba” from Pinetree. It’s Japanese parsley, or Chinese celery. It tastes like parsley-celery? Did not germinate last year so I bought it to try again.

Nettles: “Stinging Nettle” from Hudson Valley Seed Company, never made it into the ground.

Orach: “Red Orach” from Baker Creek; a violet red, velvet leafed spinach that grows on an 18 inch, upright stalk.

Purslane: “Goldberger” from PineTree Seeds.

Radicchio: “Fiero” a green with burgundy edges, upright radicchio that looks like romaine lettuce from Johnny Seeds.

“Saltwort” from Pinetree, a succulent that actually tastes salty.

Spinach: “Bloomsburg Long Standing” from Eden Brothers is a bolt resistant, upright meaty dark green leaf.

“Watercress” from Baker Creek.

Winter Mache: “New York Hardy Mache” 250 Seeds from Fruition Seeds

Winter Mesclun: “Winter Green Mesclun Mix” 400 Seeds from Fruition Seeds

Winter Spinach: “Giant Winter Spinach” 175 Seeds from Fruition Seeds

Brassica:

Asian Greens: “Tatsoi Greens” from Hudson Valley Seed Company. The gold standard for large rosettes, spoon-shaped leaves, tenderness, mild flavor.

Broccoli: “Noble Jade” a Chinese broccoli kale, “Bonarda” a purple, sprouting broccoli that can over-winter, both from Johnny Seed. For standard broccoli I will buy local seedlings.

Chinese Cabbage: “Tokyo Bekana” is a Chinese cabbage that looks like a very pale, lemon-lime chard. “Miss Hong” a red Chinese cabbage that is tall and pointy leafed like romaine lettuce. Both from Johnny Seed.

Cauliflower: “Baby Hybrid” a small 3 inch heads with edible leaves, from RH Shumway. Other than that, I will buy seedlings of “Fioretto” an open head, branching cauliflower.

Collards: “Morris Heading Collards” from RH Shumway is a bit like Portuguese Kale. “Hen Pecked” from Fruition Seeds, looks like Russian Kale – a bit lacy, maybe thinner and easier for the chickens to eat.

Kale: “Sea Kale” perennial seeds from PineTree seeds. “Thousand Head” a monster kale with smooth, 3 foot leaves from Baker Creek.

And, because they seem to go with the brassicas in planting rotations, the alums:

Chives: “Common Chives” 400 more seeds from Fruition Seeds to start right after Christmas.

Garlic: Will purchase seed garlic locally and plant in the fall.

Leek: “Tadorna” from Fruition Seeds. 75 Seeds to start right after Thanksgiving. But just to hedge my bets, I ordered 50, pencil width seedlings of “Lancelot” from RH Shumway.

Onion: I am doing the regrow project

Scallions: I am doing the scallion regrow project.

Shallots: “Cuisse du Poulet du Poitou Shallot” from Fruition Seeds are shallots the size of a chicken thigh.

Flowers for companion planting:

Cosmos: I ordered the Park Seed “Cups & Saucers”.

“Edible Flower Mix” from Hudson Valley Seed Company

Marigold: benefits so many things in the garden. I not only grew the bigger “Mission Giant Yellow” which looks like an imperial chrysanthemum, blossoms 3 inches across, I saved lots of the seeds and will plant them again this year. It is also taller so it can be planted with taller plants. And I bought the orange version “Spun Gold” from Baker Creek.

Nasturiums: “Tall Mix” from Eden Brothers.

Zinnias: “Benary Mix” from Eden Brothers.

Herbs for companion planting:

Basil: “Queen of Siam” Thai basil, and “Mammoth” lettuce leaf sized basil, from Eden Brothers

Borage: I have seeds left from previous years, and it self-seeds.

Dill: “Elephant” long standing, bolt resistant from Eden Brothers.

“Lovage” a 6 foot, perennial cutting celery from Baker Creek.

Marjoram: I will purchase locally

Tarragon: I will purchase locally and interplant some with the Rosemary.

Angelica: “Holy Ghost” by Eden Brothers.

Grains and Seeds:

Poppy Seeds: “Breadseed Poppy” flowers from Hudson Valley Seed Company. Because.

Amaranth: “Red Garnet” from Pinetree, profuse edible leaves.

Millet- The chickens love millet. “Red Millet” from Fruition Seeds.

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snowbird-down · 3 years ago

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Prompt 1: Foster

(One fine day, over a year ago now...)

Just when Laelia was certain she was starting to adjust to life in this Solus-damned, bug-filled, backwater haunted forest, she stepped outside her ship one beautiful morning and right into an enormous pile of dung. Whatever had left the All Saints’ treat on her doorstep had likewise dug up her garden and absolutely ransacked the old ceruleum barrel she’d been using as a trash can, apparently consuming nigh the entire contents – including stuff that technically wasn’t edible. The pilot locked into an incredulous stupor, her unlit cigarette tumbling from her lips. The Sylphs had assured her there were no bears in this part of the forest! So what the fuck was this?

She spent the better part of the morning cleaning up (starting with her boots). Most of the garden could thankfully be saved. Whatever had come through wasn’t interested in consuming produce so much as it just seemed like it wanted to dig. In fact, it was while she was stooping to pin her peas back to their trellises that she noticed a trail of paw prints in the soil: one monstrous set sunk deep into the soft tilled earth, orbited by a frenzy of tinier prints.

Wolves! Of course. A mother with her babies, by the look of it. But…

Laelia frowned and looked again. These seemed awful clumsy for wolf prints. Wolves had longer feet and a lighter gait, at least that she’d seen around here. These were broad, stocky, built to hold something large and powerful. These looked more like…

“Canis pugnax?” She blinked, lifting her head in the direction of the Wall. She couldn’t see it from here, of course. That was kind of the point of this whole hiding-in-the-forest thing. But…it was close enough, and Oriens had had one hell of a kennel facility. Pugnaces had been instrumental in helping patrol the endless malms of Baelsar’s Wall.

She wasn’t sure what the state of Castrum Oriens was now that the Alliance occupied it. So far as Laelia knew, the dogs had all been left behind when everyone evacuated. She wouldn’t put it past the bleeding-heart Eorzeans to have put the poor beasts down in the name of mercy, as though they had been tempered. They’d look upon the Pugnaces, having no idea of how to handle them, and see only monsters.

In any case, one had evidently gotten out and gone stray. The moment Laelia’s garden was in order, she went back into the Delphinus, fried up some bacon, and grabbed her hat and gun. It couldn’t hurt to look, at least.

But Laelia’s quarry proved far more cunning than she would have expected. The big bitch’s trail was hardly subtle; her paws left deep prints in the earth, and the forest was a mat of snapped twigs and flattened foliage in her wake. And yet no matter how far Laelia ranged and how much she piled up the bacon, no dog ever appeared. She called out with the commands she’d observed the kennel masters using, to no avail. If anything she probably looked like a half-mad Garlean deserter, screaming at the trees in her native tongue.

…Most of that actually was true, but that was besides the point.

Eventually she hit the part of the forest where the sunlight was unable to reach through the canopy and the plant life was beginning to turn purple, so Laelia decided to give up and go back. Lee was no stranger to Larkscall but if the bitch had wandered up there then she was absolutely the Sylphs’ problem now.

She decided to take a detour on the way back, to grab some wild mushrooms for dinner tonight. Her new flying cabbage friends had been all too happy to show her the ones that didn’t lead to either bodily exorcisms or violent death, and she was quickly growing fond of them as a meat substitute. As it was Laelia knew fuck all about hunting, and she didn’t have much in the way of coin to spend on luxuries like meat. It wasn’t like that was a hard problem to solve – by the sounds of things around the Hawthorn Hut, Gridania had no shortage of work for adventurers, but…Laelia wasn’t really comfortable with the idea of sauntering into a more populated area, with or without her hat.

A piteous cry snapped her from her thoughts. Laelia blinked and pulled her hat off so that she could better see her surroundings. There, it came again: small, distressed, confused. It was hard to focus her third eye in this damn forest with so much moving but she thought she sighted something trundling around down by the water.

Laelia carefully picked her way through the growth down to the river. And there, waddling in tired circles upon the riverbank, was a tiny pugnax puppy. He was small, and skinny – most likely the runt of the litter. And if he was the runt, it was entirely possible he’d been abandoned.

Laelia Belisar felt her heart grow three sizes that day. It also was busy tying itself in knots. She felt the sudden, overwhelming urge to protect this little pup. Pulling the last strip of bacon she had left, Laelia knelt in the grass and softly called out. He bounded over with zero hesitation, gobbled up the offering, and proceeded to climb all over her, wiggling and wagging and brandishing kisses.

“Well aren’t you friendly! What the hell kind of a pugnax are you?” she asked, laughing. “Where’s mom, hm? She leave you here?”

Laelia gathered the puppy into her arms as best she could (by the Emperor, this little bean just would not sit still!) and whistled into the woods. She tried the commands again, to no effect. Sure enough, however, the same set of prints were down by the riverbank when she checked. The mother had certainly been here.

Well, she reasoned, if the big bitch meant to simply leave the puppy here and come back for him later…surely it wouldn’t be difficult to track him a bit further to Laelia’s camp. For now, the pilot didn’t have the heart to leave him.

So the puppy came back with her, and she waited. Laelia dug in to her stores of meat and milk, trying to feed him and fatten him up. But the suns turned into a fortnight, and a fortnight into a sennight; Laelia ran out of both milk and meat and there was still no sign of the mother. In fact, she’d seen neither hide nor hair of any dogs since.

“Well, little guy.” Laelia smirked faintly, stooping to heft up the puppy one day. He’d certainly begun putting weight back on, there was no denying that. “Guess you’re stuck with me now. You could definitely ask for a better foster mom, but…I’m gonna do my best, yeah?”

He licked her face. Laelia chuckled and hugged him.

In truth it was nice to have a piece of home here with her. Hells, it was nice to have companionship period. It was getting lonely living out here like this. All Laelia had ever wanted was peace and quiet while out on deployment, but now…now she missed the Squad. She missed the restaurant. Both of her homes had only ever been chaotic and loud. Now it was just her and a dog and an airship she couldn’t safely fly.

But more importantly…this wasn’t about just her anymore. Laelia could no longer put off buying meat. She’d have to suck it up and start venturing to Gridania -- not for herself, but for the dog.

Solus’ beard, she hated responsibility.

But then she looked down at that wrinkly little face and her heart melted all over again.

“Well, boy, I think it’s time for us to make a little trip into town, hm?” Laelia returned the puppy to the ground, grabbed her hat, and planted it squarely atop her head. “Figure I’ll blow what I got on as much food as I can get for us both and pick up some work while I’m there. Oh! And I guess we oughta get you a collar too, huh? Make it official and what not.”

She turned at the hatch, grinning as he trundled after her. One day this creature was going to grow into something the size of a Galvsdamned horse, and she wasn’t sure how ready she actually was for that. But for now…she’d enjoy the fun size.

“Atta boy. Let’s get goin’. C’mon, Brutus!”

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxiv #laelia belisar #laelia jen belisar #brutus #garlean #garlemald

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gardenofdelight · 4 years ago

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✨OC Questionnaire: Peaseblossom✨

a.k.a. Pixie Reader from Fairies May Cry

Full name

???????????????

Preferred name/nickname

Lil Pea, Lil Blossom, Sweet Pea

Generally referred to as

Peaseblossom

Appearance

FACECLAIM: Here’s a portrait I made using Artbreeder:

SEX: Female

HEIGHT: Just barely 5 inches in pixie form, 5 feet in human form.

WEIGHT: Light as a feather in pixie form, lightweight in human form.

BUILD: Lithe and slender.

HAIR: long, soft, and platinum blond. Usually braided with tiny flowers, but it comes down past her bottom when loose.

SKIN: White. Smooth and sunkissed from daily naps under the sun.

EYES: Purple like lilac flowers.They’re a bit wide and always seem to sparkle with mirth and mischief. Long eyelashes.

MOUTH: Small mouth with plump lips. Perfectly straight teeth and pure white.

NOSE: Small and rounded with a cute point at the tip and small nostrils.

HANDS: Small with short fingernails.

FEET: Small and dainty with short nails.

SCARS: None.

CLOTHES: Colorful dresses handmade from real flowers, but she prefers to be nude with a sprinkling of her fairy dust on her body most of the time

OTHER FEATURES: She has 2 pairs of iridescent wings much like a dragonfly.

OTHER NOTABLE FEATURES: She has a “fairy light” that changes color depending on her current mood.

Speech

VOICECLAIM: To be determined.

ACCENT: Fairly neutral.

VERBAL TICS: She has a tendency to repeat words when she’s overly excited about something. And she stumbles over her words when taken by surprise.

LANGUAGE: She can speak all known languages so long as she can hear it verbally first thanks to a little fairy magic.

ARTICULATION: She can be a little clumsy with words while explaining things but she does so on purpose sometimes if she’s hoping to get the upper hand in a deal.

EDUCATION: She prefers to use short and simple words but she’s learned a few big words that are hard for her to pronounce correctly.

LAUGHTER: Sounds like the tinkling of tiny bells in the wind, and she laughs and giggles a lot everyday.

GRUMP: She pouts, grumbles, and sneers whenever she’s annoyed or angry.

BREATHING: She gasps, humphs, and sighs a lot.

Mannerisms

FACE: She has a very expressive face and has a hard time hiding emotions on her face unless she’s working out a deal...then she has the best damn poker face in existence.

HANDS: She makes a lot of hand gestures whenever she’s excited or mad. Lots of arm crossing, finger wagging, curious poking, and happy clapping.

LEGS/FEET: She kicks her feet sometimes while flying and stomps her foot down when she’s angry.

EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS: Her capricious nature makes her very prone to emotional outbursts. Crying and yelling when she’s upset and laughing and bouncing around when she’s happy.

HABITS: She likes to hum sometimes while hunting for lost trinkets and sing lullabies while making flower dresses.

POSTURE: She tends to slump a little while standing or sitting, but her posture straightens out whenever she’s very happy, angry, or taken by surprise.

WALKING POSTURE: She skips around gleefully when she’s in good, but she tends to stomp around when she’s in a bad mood.

SITTING POSTURE: She likes to sit with her legs crossed beneath her with a slouched posture.

PERSONAL SPACE: She doesn't have much of a personal bubble and tends to encroach on others’ personal space without realizing it.

SPACIAL AWARENESS: She’s really good at noticing what’s around her thanks to her constant hunt for the next best trinket.

OTHER: Her fairy light changes color depending on her mood. And her fairy wings tend to snap out when she’s surprised, droop when she’s feeling down, and flutter faster when they're buzzing with rage.

Health

DIET: Two words: liqueur and sweets! She loves fruity wines and sugary treats...it’s not really healthy and definitely not a well-balanced diet but pixies have an extremely high metabolism. She rarely eats vegetables and scoffs at anything boring and bitter.

SLEEP: She takes a lot of short naps throughout the day. Pixies don’t sleep for very long unless they’re completely exhausted. Many of her dreams consist of brave adventures with her trusty steed (a rat named Sir Hawthrone) and romantic dances with Pretty Boy (Vergil).

EXERCISE: Not very much but flying around and searching through all the nooks and crannies for lost trinkets is a bit of an exercise!

ACTIVITY: She works hard when she wants to, especially if she’s really excited about something...that’s usually when she pushes herself to exhaustion. But she can be pretty lazy some days...it all just depends on her mood at the moment.

CLEANLINESS: She bathes in the morning dew she creates every morning for her flowers. But sometimes she takes a shower with Pretty Boy when he’s not looking…!

ODOUR: Like a meadow of sweet flowers by a tranquil pond.

MEDICINAL DRUGS: No.

NARCOTICS: No.

ADDICTIONS: No...unless you count the obsessive need to make deals and having a sweet tooth as an addiction.

ILLNESS: No.

INJURIES: No.

PARASITES: No.

OTHER: To be determined.

Personal

INTROVERT/EXTROVERT?: She’s an exuberant extrovert. Lil Pea doesn’t let her small size get in the way of being social and outgoing, especially when it comes to things that pique her curiosity.

OPTIMIST/PESSIMIST: Definitely an optimist.

GENDER: Female.

SEXUALITY: She has no set preference in regards to sex and/or gender. So long as they’re a very nice person with a kind soul. Any display of intentional cruelty or just general “meanie-ness” will make her look the other way.

ROMANTIC: Absolutely loves all the romance!

MEMORY: She has a very chaotic memory, usually wavering between highly accurate to absurdly silly.

PLANNING: She’s a terrible planner and just leaps right into things with a wide grin.

PENSIVE: She doesn’t spend a lot of time pondering about life...she’d much rather live in the now and not then or yet to come.

INTUITION: She has really good intuition so long as she isn’t figuring things out on an empty stomach.

PROBLEM SOLVING: She’s very good at solving puzzles and problems so long as it's very clever or in rhyming form.

GOALS: To find the greatest lost trinket in the world!

INSECURITIES: She thinks her wings aren’t as pretty as some of the other fairies with their beautiful butterfly wings. But she hides her insecurities well behind her cute and bubbly personality.

ACHIEVEMENTS: She’s very proud of her trinket collection and her ability to make Pretty Boy blush!

ANXIETY: Being trapped like a bug in a jar and Pretty Boy being in danger makes her super anxious.

OVERWHELMED: She only feels like things are too much when she’s stressed out.

SELF-HELP: She simply ignores her problems and moves on with life.

COMFORTS: Liquor, sweet treats, naps among the flowers, and Pretty Boy kisses.

BAD HABITS: She tends to exaggerate a lot which sometimes leads to more problems.

PHILOSOPHY: Not religious but does follow the creed of all fairies: always seek to make clever deals through trickery and under no circumstances are you to break a deal.

TRIGGERS: Glass jars and bird cages.

The Past

PARENTS/GUARDIANS: She doesn’t have parents per se...more like a mysterious guardian who brought her into existence with powerful magic. And they get along very well but haven’t seen each other in over a millennium.

SCHOOL: She never went to school...unless you count causing mischief a few times during some classes to make children laugh at the teacher’s expense.

ADOLESCENCE: She was never an adolescent.

LEAVING HOME: It was very exciting for her the first time since she’s always heard how much the mortal realm can be! But then she became a permanent resident when she escaped from the mages holding her captive.

FURTHER EDUCATION: She never went to college but wouldn’t mind causing some mischief there too.

FIRST JOB: She helped her guardian with his garden by tending to the flowers. She enjoyed putting dew on the blooms every morning and healing to sickly buds with her bell-like singing.

LIFE EVENTS: Making a deal with one of the Princes of the Seelie Court definitely brought more cheer into her life. But having that same Prince fail to protect her when she got captured by mages and enduring captivity brought pain and sorrow. And now finding a new protector has renewed her hope and continues to bring her joy every day.

WORST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: She was captured by mage and held prisoner for various vile experiments.

BEST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: Pretty Boy kissed her back.

LESSONS: Never trust someone solely on their looks...you must peer into their soul and judge them by their spirit. Never hide in the dark alone. Don’t eat too much strawberry ice cream or else you’ll suffer from the worst stomach EVER! And it only takes one fairy’s sugar to make Pretty Boy smile and sometimes blush!

LOOKING BACK: If Lil Pea could re-play her life and do something differently, she would’ve not joined the Prince’s revelry in the mortal world that fateful day.

Relationships

FAMILY: The crew at Devil May Cry are pretty much her family now.

FRIENDSHIPS: She has a lot of friends! Most of them are critters living in and around the shop...but they’re very loyal and love to go on adventures with her.

FRIENDS IN NEED: She will always be there for her friends with fairy dust to cheer them up...she’ll also offer to even the score if someone is the source of her friend’s troubles. This usually involves some elaborate pranks and tiny raspberries right in their face.

NEEDING A FRIEND: She usually seeks the comfort of her flowers and critter friends first...but sometimes she’ll go to her human friends when she needs help or advice. It just depends on her mood at the time.

ANNOYANCES: She gets annoyed very easily but reciprocates with swift pranks and raspberries right in the face when really irked.

ROMANCE: She’s a bit overt with her advances and has no problem giving her romantic interest pretty gifts. She’s attracted to people with a good and just soul...and being tall and strong doesn’t hurt either.

MARITAL PROBLEMS: She’s not married but she’d probably ignore the problem until forced to deal with it...and then her capriciousness would take over and it’ll either turn out very good or very bad but confusing nonetheless.

ADVERSARIES: She doesn’t like big meanies who ruin all the fun!

ENEMIES: Anyone who would hurt Pretty Boy or defenseless animals and children is an enemy to her. She also gets VERY angry when flowers are needlessly destroyed.

STRANGERS: She tends to hide from strangers since you never know if they’re real nice or a big meanie!

FUN STUFF: She loves to sing, dance, pull pranks, hunt for lost trinkets, make pretty dresses, and feast on all the sweets and booze!

DATING: She loves to dance with her romantic partner and will always be ready for a feast with good booze. But she finds a stroll among the flowers and fireflies at night very romantic.

BEST FRIEND: Her trusty rat steed, Sir Hawthorne...but Scruffy Boy and Sweet Lady have become close friends too!

LOVE: Her devilish protector will always have her tiny heart.

WORST ENEMY: Anyone who has terrible manners and harms flowers or Pretty Boy.

Interactions

MINGLING: She gets along with others so long as they have good manners and aren’t big meanies!

COMFORT LEVELS: She’s comfortable talking to people but will steer the conversation by any means necessary if they stumble upon a touchy subject. The only time she’s uncomfortable is when people ask too many questions or focus too much on the past and future.

PHYSICAL: She’s very touchy-feely! Loves to give hugs and poke noses no matter her size at the moment.

GROUPS: She’s comfortable in a big group so long as she knows everybody, but even that doesn’t stop her since she’s very good at hanging around while not being noticed. But sometimes she wants to spend time alone with one or two people who’ll give her plenty of attention.

OPENNESS: She opens up very easily up to a certain extent. It’ll take some patience and gentle prying to get her to talk openly up about her past.

GENEROSITY: She likes to give gifts to those who prove a friend to the Fae. She’d gladly lend money to a friend...so long as they make a deal with her in return. And it makes her very happy to receive gifts from others.

JEALOUSY: Anyone that takes her Pretty Boy’s attention away from her makes her feel incredibly jealous! But pulling a few pranks on the offender always makes her feel better.

TEMPER: She’s easily worked up thanks to the capricious nature of pixies.

EMPATHY: She can empathize but sometimes she doesn’t understand the reasons behind some mortal’s feelings, which leads to a misunderstanding if no one explains.

AFFECTION: Lots of hugs and “fairy’s sugar” with the occasional gift or helping hand with her fairy dust.

DISTASTE: Her fairy light will flash red as she blows many raspberries right in their face...and a few pranks if she REALLY dislikes someone.

ETIQUETTE: She has very good manners just like any fairy worth their salt! But most mortals don’t know the proper etiquette of the Fae...which may look very rude and inappropriate to them.

RESPONSIBILITY: She doesn’t like to admit when she’s wrong but will face the music when it all falls apart. Then, she’ll try to make up for her mistakes by any means possible.

SELF ESTEEM: She’s always had to stick up for herself until meeting the Prince since many of the Fae treat fairies born through non-fairy magic like her very poorly.

CONFIDENCE: She’s very confident in herself and her abilities despite being treated differently from her own kind.

HONESTY: She always speaks her mind unless she’s up to some mischief or feels that it might upset someone.

LEADER OR FOLLOWER: She’s a little of both. She usually follows but can take the lead if needed.

PARTY TRICKS: She’s an expert trinket finder, flower dressmaker, and can put dew on all the flowers in a meadow before the first ray of sunrise! And she also knows how to make pretty half devils blush.

PRAISE: Compliments and praise make her fairy light turn pink with joy.

FAILURES: Her capricious attitude can be irritating to some but her constant need to pull pranks is highly annoying.

CRITICISM: She doesn’t take criticism very well...she’d either burst into tears or swear pretty pixie vengeance on the unfortunate critic!

INSULTS: It depends on who’s insulting her. She’ll fire back with one of her inventive insults at some, but then get teary eyed at others.

EMBARRASSMENT: She’s not easily embarrassed but it still happens whenever she’s taken by surprise. Her fairy light turns pink and red as she scurries away to hide whenever she’s embarrassed.

FLIRTING: She’s VERY flirty...absolutely adores the way people light up and blush at her cute compliments.

ATTENTION SPAN: She has a very short attention span and tends to get easily distracted.

SITUATIONS: She’s very good at breaking up difficult situations but has a hard time dealing with them through patient conversation.

Life

CAREER: Expert trinket finder and very pretty pixie for Pretty Boy! It’s a very fulfilling career for a fairy.

PROMOTION: She’s eyeing the promotion known as “girlfriend” at the moment.

BOSS: She has a great relationship with her boss so long as she doesn’t tease him too much.

DUTY: She assists Pretty Boy with her unique talents and magical fairy dust.

TECH: She has no idea how to use modern technology but would find it very fascinating if she ever gave it a try!

POLITICS: Not political at all.

COMBAT SKILLS: She’s very good at blinding people with her fairy dust and is proficient in mounted combat on her ratty stead with her needle sword.

HOME: She keeps her personal space very tidy and filled with many different flowers.

DAILY LIFE: She goes through her day-to-day tasks with an eager wonder of unknown adventures that might happen along the way.

INDEPENDENCE: Very independent since escaping the mages to live in the human world.

COOKING: She can’t really cook but loves to help from time to time by sprinkling her fairy dust over food.

BUILDING: She can’t do basic DIY but she tries to help with her fairy magic!

CLEANING: She always tries to keep her personal space clean but her fairy dust remains always present all over her pile of flowers where she usually sleeps.

SHOPPING: She doesn’t really shop due to her small stature and shyness around a group of strangers, but she likes to accompany her friends on shopping trips. But if she ever got her hands on some funds while in her bigger form...Ooh she’d be the most impulsive buyer in the human world!

DRIVING: She doesn’t know how to drive but it always looked like so much fun whenever she rode in the van with Crazy Lady and Baby Boy!

FINANCES: She has the biggest trinket hoard in all the shop! But she doesn’t quite understand why mortals value pieces of paper with pictures of old people.

MARRIAGE: Not married. She doesn’t know why mortals need a huge ceremony to spend eternity together, but she loves all the pretty dresses and flowers at weddings!

KIDS: No kids. And she has no plans to have kids herself, but she loves to make children smile and laugh with her mischievous antics.

PETS: No pets.

DEPENDANTS: No.

LAW: To human standards? Definitely. But to fairy standards? No.

COURT: She’s never been to court.

PRISON: No.

TRAVELLING: She’s been to many places around various worlds and different realities.

MEDICAL: She doesn’t trust doctors and always makes sure to have an apple on hand whenever someone needs to keep them away.

ILLNESS: No.

WORRIES: She worries for Pretty Boy whenever nightmares plague his dreams at night.

PEACE: She doesn’t mind peace and quiet but there’s music in the air around her thanks to her own whimsical singing.

PARTYING: She LOVES to go out partying whenever possible! There’s nothing like a good revel with lively music and vast feasts!

HOBBIES: She collects lost trinkets, makes dresses out of flowers, and finds mischief in the unlikeliest places!

#peaseblossom #pixie reader #oc questionnaire #Fairies May Cry #time see what lies behind a very pretty pixie! ✨🧚‍♀️✨#harlot writes #harlot speaks

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missingrobin · 5 years ago

Text

Unconditional (part 2)romance

Description: Love. Lies. Heartbreak. A recipe for disaster. When you move to Riverdale you have to face your dark past and a possibly hopeful future.

Pairing:Sweet Pea x Reader, Jughead x Reader

Warning:language, drugs, violence, underage drinking, parties? (just don’t get triggered)

Word count: 4199

A/N: Yall this story is getting so good! I’m so excited to keep writing and if you’re enjoying it tell me below and if you have any thing you might want to see in this series or just in general send me an ask or dm me :)

Part 1

You woke to feel a heavy hand on your back. The hand belonged to Sweet Pea, your sorta kinda friend. It was around 11am most people had already left the bar but few remained because they were still too tired to drive home. You looked up and saw that Sweet Pea was still asleep, so you gently wiggled his hand off your back and grabbed your things. Toni was awake and was already cleaning up the bar. You walked over to her to see what your newest adventure together was going to be.

“Hey Toni good morning,” you said

Hey Y/N how are you feeling?” Toni replied

“Pretty damn good honestly,”

“Hey we should probably get you all moved in,” said Toni

“Alright let's hit the road.”

You both jumped in your cars and you followed Toni to her trailer. You drove down a windy road till you reached the trailer park. The trailer wasn’t anything you expected. It was painted a raziliant purple color and was quite large on the outside. The trailer was partially graffitied with beautiful drawings that made the outside even better. There was a pink motorcycle and a garden with lavish plants along the trailer. The inside was so much grander there were two bedrooms and a very modern kitchen .The living room was screaming comfort from the plush chairs to the soft blankets that sat in a basket near the tv. After your tour of your new home for the time being you resided to where your room was and placed down your few belongings.

You laid your bed and took some deep breaths and tried to process what the hell was going on. One second you were in California fearing for your life now you’re in Riverdale in the safety of your new friends home. Time felt like it was never ending while you were being held captive by Nico, now you feel like there’s finally room for you to love your life and yourself.

“Y/N let's go to Pops you’ll love it.” Toni declared while almost breaking down your door

“Okay,” you agreed.

You spang from your bed with power and met Toni in the main living area. Together you set off for Pops in Toni’s white jeep.

When you arrived at Pops you got situated and ordered a Strawberry milkshake and a large basket of fries that you and Toni would share.

“Do you miss it,” Toni asked while twiddling her fingers around her glass.

“Miss what?” You responded even though you were deep in thought. Toni noticed.

“California.”

“Yeah,” you hesitated slightly. “I wish things didn’t have to go so wrong,” a small sigh left your lips.

“I just miss the beaches and the boardwalk but most of all my family.” You didn’t dare to look up. You could feel your eyes start to grow heavier and your heart start to beat faster.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all that stuff Y/N,” Toni reached her hand across the table in hopes to comfort you.

“It’s okay things will work out they always do.” you smiled

“Hey on a lighter note there’s a party next weekend we should totally go, It would be a great way to meet more people and it's being held at the Quarry so it would be fun to explore,” Toni remarked brightly. Her puppy eyes gleamed and you couldn’t resist.

“Yes! That would be awesome!” you exclaimed with fake excitement.

You both finished your meal and drove back home. It was already getting dark so you decided to stay in and have a girls night. You stayed up to the early hours of the morning watching Clueless, Legally blonde, and many more movies to pass the time.

When you woke up you saw that it was 3:27 pm.

“Toni, Toni wake up it's the afternoon already,” you shook her till she woke up.

“Oh damn well there goes most of our day,” Toni replied with a melancholy voice

“It’s fine lets just go hang out at the Whyte Wyrm,” you suggested

“That’s a really good idea, let's go,” Toni slightly cheered up.

You both hopped on Toni’s bike and drove to the Wyrm. The parking lot was nearly empty except for a shady black van but you ignored it and walked inside.

“Lets play pool!” Toni exclaimed

You both walked over to the pool table and had a pleasant evening playing pool and chatting with your new friend.

“You suck ass Toni, why did you even ask me to play?” you laughed while holding the cue stick in between your hands.

“Because I thought you would suck more,” she giggled and poked you playfully with the stick.

“I just remembered my first day of school is tomorrow ugghh,” you rolled your eyes a

“Oh it's not that bad I promise, school can actually be sorta fun and plus you have Sweet Pea, Fangs and I to keep you company,” Toni replied with warmth in her voice.

“Yeah that’s true, I should really try to be positive about this,” you declared with hope.

“Precisely.” Toni smiled

“Oh this is gonna be such a shit show,” you said while burrowing your hands in your arms.

“I thought you were gonna be positive.” Toni looked at you with a smirk.

“I gave up,” you replied with a grim look.

Toni looked around the room. You saw a clock by a dart board that read 11:12 pm.

“It’s getting late, we should head home, we have a big day tomorrow,'' Toni smirked with an evil look.

You flipped her off and laughed. You were home in less than 5 minutes. You both returned to your designated areas and retired for the night. You took off your makeup and itchy day clothes and picked up your latest read The Diviners from your night stand. You read yourself to sleep and soon drifted off to a comfortable slumber.

You woke to your loud ass iPhone alarm and groaned. You rolled out of bed and got ready for the day. You put on a fabulous denim skirt and a cropped long sleeve button up top. You accessorized with gold rings and a gold necklace. You looked in the mirror and you looked like the baddest bitch ever. You threw on your black heeled boots and headed out the door. You had to drive to school alone because Toni was already gone but you weren’t worried because you knew you were gonna make this school your bitch.

Your drive to South side high was quite refreshing. You listened to Tame Impala with the windows rolled down and thought about what school was going to be like.

You pulled into the parking lot and got out of your car. All eyes were on you, boys looked you up and down, girls gave you fake smiles and whispered to their friends . People made crude comments in all directions but you ignored the unwanted attention. You strutted up to the school doors and you were met by Toni and Sweet Pea.

“Damn Y/N you look so fucking hot,” Toni exclaimed while stared at you in awe.

“Thanks babe,” you wrapped Toni in a tight hug.

“Yeah Y/N you really do look great,” Sweet Pea said while raking his hands through his dark lush hair.

“Thanks,” you replied

Sweet Peas face turned a velvety shade of pink and you noticed. Sweet Pea was obviously gorgeous but you didn’t have time to deal with a boyfriend, especially another drug dealing one that likes to pull knives on you.

You and Toni headed off to your first period class together leaving Sweet Pea in the dust. His mind was filled with thoughts of you and what he would have to do to get you.

In your first period class you sat with Toni and her friend Fangs who you just got acquainted with and laughed and talked about how shitty the school was. You were genuinely enjoying yourself. You giggled and barely paid attention to the teacher who was lecturing the class about drugs.

At lunch you sat with Toni and her friends again but this time you met Jughead. He was simply angelic, he had the best personality and above all he was a writer just like you. You couldn’t help but stare at his gorgeous face.

“So Jughead what do you usually write?” you questioned and slid your hand under your chin.

“Oh god Y/N please don’t get him started,” Toni begged.

You ignored her comment and connected eyes with Jughead.

“I write anything that I feel matters, from articles to poetry,” he smiled at you and looked at your red stained lips.

In your head you thought of you and him sitting in pops together sharing a milkshake on your first date and of course you thought of your wedding and how cute your kids were going to be.

“Snap out of it woman, you’ll start drooling in a second ,” Your internal monologue told you.

You quickly realized that you were staring at his lips and you forced yourself to look at the ground.

“Y/N do you write?” Jughead asked

“Yeah actually I do, but I haven’t written anything in a while,” you started staring at his lips again.

“Why not?” he questioned and adjusted his hat.

“So many reasons, maybe I can tell you sometime over coffee,” you flirted, making sure to make direct eye contact then to him and look him up and down.

“I’d like that,” he smirked playfully while sucking on a cherry lollipop.

During that whole debacle Sweet Pea was staring at you and he was pissed. He felt his insides burn with rage and jealousy.

“Why didn’t she look at me that way, I’m ten fucking times better than that dickhead,” he thought and sank his head to the ground with slight defeat.

He couldn’t take it. Sweet Pea stood up and stormed off through the cafeteria. His whole face was bright red and he wanted to fight someone. Fangs noticed Sweet Pea’s change in attitude and he took off after him.

“Hey bro what’s got you all hot and bothered,” Fangs questioned trying not to make Sweet Pea even more upset.

“That bitch and her little boyfriend.” Sweet Pea spit

“Huh,” Fangs said utterly confused.

“Y/N and Dickhead,” Sweet Pea had anger fuming off him at this point. He reached forward and struck a locker leaving a dent.

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to talk about girls that way dumbass, and Jug didn’t even do anything they were just talking,” Fangs rolled his eyes.

“Is a coffee date just talking idiot,” Sweet Pea mocked with hate in his voice.

“Look dude, it's not that serious and aren’t you the one who pulled a knife on Y/N when you first met her,” Fangs leaned forward closer to Sweet pea and balled his fists to his sides.

“Oh yeah she told me about that dumbass,” Fangs replied with equal amounts of anger.

“Go Fuck yourself.,” Sweet Pea slashed words at his friend and stormed off and out the doors to the parking lot.

Fangs knew that Sweet Pea could get like this sometimes but he had never seen him so upset. He wondered why Sweet Pea was so pissed off about a girl that he just met a few days ago. Fangs knew that he had to let Sweet Pea go blow off some steam by himself, but it didn’t make how he just acted okay.

The school day went very fast and was pleasant. You had noticed tension between the Sweet Pea and Fangs but you didn’t want to get in the middle of that so you ignored it. Although you didn't see much of Sweet Pea at all for the rest of the day.

After school you had your first shift at the Wyrm and you were excited because you would be able to bartend. You had drinking experience since you were 16 but you really didn’t like alcohol too much, only the sweet refreshing stuff but you absolutely adored making drinks.

You drove to the Wyrm and Toni walked you through some of the signature drinks which were simple enough to learn. Within 30 minutes you could make anything on the menu. You were fucking amazing at bartending and talking to strangers so this job was an excellent way to make some cash while still doing something that you loved. Time went by like a breeze and before you knew it your shift was over. When you finished and clocked out for the night FP approached you.

“Hey Y/N your work at the bar was fucking incredible great job tonight,” FP was thoroughly impressed by you.

“Thanks FP, I really appreciate the opportunity to work here. It's great,” you gave him a bright smile and wrapped your tired arms around your body.

“You’re welcome kid, Anyways have you met my boy?” FP prodded hoping to gain insight on your relationship with Jughead.

“Yeah I met him today at school he’s really nice,” your palms started to sweat.

“Oh cool, cool, hopefully you guys can become friends, god knows that boy needs some more of those,” FP chuckled lightly.

You gave a brief lowkey uncomfortable laugh.

“Oh I should really get going goodnight FP,” you tried to make your escape as fast as possible.

“Yeah you’re right kid, goodnight,” FP replied while strolling off to a group of older serpents.

When you finally made it to your car you sat and tried to take in that conversation. Why was FP asking about Jughead? Why did he put such emphasis on you being friends? Most importantly why did your hands start sweating when he brought up Jughead? Sure he was really cute and he liked a lot of things that you liked but it's no reason to get all worked up about. Damn it, you knew you had a teeny tiny amount of feelings for him but it doesn’t matter, or does it?

“Let it go,” you whispered to yourself with slight disappointment.

In Jugheads trailer he was having the exact same thoughts as you. He questioned why he felt like this and how he magically felt this strongly about some girl he just met. In his head he replayed the first time he saw you walking through the cafeteria looking stunning. With your beautiful long luxurious legs and your impeccable sense of fashion. He thought about holding you in his arms while he recited poetry to you in fourign languages. What the hell man he thought. Then he suddenly slapped the shit out of himself to make the day dreaming go away.

“That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.” Jughead muttered to himself as he rubbed his brutally attacked cheek.

Several days later…

It was finally Friday afternoon. The weather was blazing and bright and you took that as a good sign. Your week had been thrilling from you starting your new school to you hanging out with your new friends and sneaking off with Jughead to hang out at the library during lunch. If you were being honest you would even say that life was currently fucking awesome. Although your week was going great you still had so much more to do like the Snake Bash starting at midnight. You still had to get on your craziest rave outfit and pregame but you just got out of school and you wanted to take a drive to reminisce on all the bomb shit that had been happening lately.

After your drive you went back home to find sparkly shit all over the floor in your living room.

“Y/N which one do I wear? It's the last Snack Bash of the school year. I have to start it with a bang.” Toni was speaking so rapidly and she was quite literally jumping up and down. She held outfits up to her over and over again.

“Okay first of all where did you get all these dresses? Second wear the diamond cover up with a black swimsuit set under you’d look so hot in that.” you replied and took a second look at the shiny mess.

“Okay thank you so much.” Toni jogged over to you and wrapped you in a quick hug while trying not to step on the eight million outfits on the floor and then took off into her room.

You stepped off the mountains of clothes and went into your room to get ready. You searched through all your old rave clothes and then found the one. It was a metallic super cropped top with matching cheeky bottoms. You paired that with white fishnet tights and white doc martens that you stole from a store in California when you were homeless after your parents died. You did a ravishing makeup look that consisted of a lot of glitter and crystals. Finally your masterpiece was finished. You looked like a goddess and you knew it.

You came out of your bedroom to find a crowd of your friends. Fangs, Sweet Pea, Jughead, and Toni were waiting for you so you all could drive to the quarry together. When everyone laid eyes on you they were stunned. You were thrown up on with immediate compliments. Jughead's jaw dropped to the floor. Sweet pea looked like he was drooling all over the floor.

Someone finally spoke up. “U- Uh Y/N you look beautiful,” Sweet Pea professed while pushing back his hair with his strong ring covered hands.

“Yeah you really do,” Jughead chimed in. He walked over to you on a finally clean floor and wrapped you in a warm comforting hug.

Sweet Pea frowned and gave a look of disgust from the action but to everyone else it was just a simple hug.

The guys couldn’t keep their eyes off your body and you had to keep saying out loud that you weren’t a piece of meat. Although you looked divine your friends did too. Fangs wore a see through shirt and skinny jeans and his makeup consisted of a shit ton of glitter too. Toni wore the outfit you told her to and she curled her bubblegum pink hair into loose waves. Sweet Pea actually didn’t wear a shirt, he only had a kimono and pants on and a bandanna tied around his neck. Jughead wore a short sleeve button down shirt tucked into distressed black pants and of course that god damn hat.

You and your friends got in Toni’s jeep and drove to the Quarry. You blasted music and laughed the whole way there.

When you reached your destination you could tell that this party wasn't going to be fucking crazy. Pretty girls danced with dangerous guys. Heads bobbed up and down, the ground almost felt like it was shaking. Colorful lights decorated the floor along with colorful outfits. You were drawn in just like the first time you went to a rave. Your eyes darted to where most people were dancing and you and your friends immediately joined them. You ran off to the dance floor and moved your body with passion. You shook your hips along with your hair. You felt eyes on you as you got lost in the music. You were dancing with a group of Serpent girls when a handsome stranger walked over and asked you to dance. You took the mysterious stranger's hand and deepened in the crowd.

“I’m Leo.” the gorgeous man remarked

“I’m Y/N,” you said while connecting eyes with the man.

He had a soft smile and beautiful hair that touched his chin. His eyes dared you to get lost in them. You danced wildly and rested your arms on his shoulders.

The man became a little too handsy and you moved his hands off of your lower back.

“Not so fast lover boy.” you smirked

“Hey don’t be like that baby girl,” Leo said sternly. He moved his hands back to their previous place and discomfort washed over you.

“Back off asshole” you spit pushing his arms off of you. You stormed off into the abyss of bodies.

You didn’t like that at all. You knew that it was probably a good idea to get away from him. You drifted off to find your friends but they spotted you first.

“Hey Y/N is he giving you trouble?” Sweet Pea said while cracking his knuckles

“Nah it's no big deal Sweet,” you replied in an effort to calm him down.

“Alright,” Sweet Pea hesitated

You grabbed Toni’s arm and you sped to the dance floor. You wrapped your arms around her and you swayed to the music. It was nice to have really good friends that would look out for you.

“Toni.”

“Yeah Y/N,”

“Thank you for everything,” you said warmly

“You’re welcome, thanks for being here,” she pulled you into a close hug.

You both held each other and listened to Somebody Else by the 1975. People were all around holding their loved ones and best friends. Time felt infinite. You felt Infinite.

Behind the trees Leo and a gang of ghoulies plotted a scheme.

“That bitch is so full of herself,” Leo spat while looking over at the crowd of people.

“Don't worry about Leo, we'll take care of her,” some goulie said while lighting his cigarette.

Sweet Pea stood lips locked with some pretty girl. Fangs was talking to some guy and you and Toni were dancing, but where was Jughead?

“Hey I’m gonna go look for Jug okay,”

“Got it,” Toni replied while still dancing .

Your eyes scanned the crowd but there was still no sign of Jughead. You tried to come up with an idea of where he could be, but then a melancholy thought crossed your brain. Maybe he left with someone else, you dismissed the thought simply because you didn’t want to think of that. You walked back to the car with a droopy mood and tired feet.

When you arrived back at the car to your surprise you saw Jughead sitting on the roof of the car looking at the stars. You strolled up to him.

“Hey stranger,” you almost whispered

“Oh hey Y/N,” Jughead replied trying to act like you didn’t just scare the shit out of him.

“Not the party type?” you questioned

“Yeah not really.” he replied dully

You climbed to the hood and sat beside him. The sky was decorated with stars and the moon shined in the distance.

“It’s beautiful,” you sighed and laid down on the roof to rest your aching body.

“It is.” he agreed while resting his arms on his crossed legs.

“Tomorrow wanna go get breakfast at Pops and hangout?” you said calmly

“Yeah that would be nice.”

“It’s a date.”

“Like an actual date?” he questioned

“Yeah if you want it to be,” you replied with your heart racing. You were so good at flirting on accident that it should be a crime.

“Then it’s a date,” he proclaimed while looking at you. He saw how the moonlight shined against your skin and his heart twirled.

Your eyes were darting at all the different stars.

“You’re a dork you know that,” you said while giggling.

“You’re too,” he said while playfully bumping you.

You sat up and looked at him. Time stopped. The World stopped rotating. It was just you and him. You turned to face him. Your eyes connected and you slid your hand on his neck. You pulled him closer and your lips locked. Your lips seemed to fit together like the perfect puzzle. The kiss was like no other, nothing could ever come close to it. It lasted a lifetime and when you parted you still felt buzzing on your lips. You had never been kissed like that. That kiss danced in your heart and was ingrained in your brain. Jughead looked at you and smiled, his cheeks were flushed with pink.

The air was filled with passion, there was no need for words. You simply just laid back down on the roof of the car and he slid his hand into yours.

You could still hear the music from the party booming in the other direction. The wind was chilled and the fresh spring air swept over your body like a blanket. Your body shivered because of the temperature outside. Jughead noticed.

“Do you want my jacket?” he questioned

“Yes please,” you replied with a smile.

Your hand felt safe and right wrapped in his but that didn’t stop the various amounts of insecurity from coming in and drowning your brain with hesitation. Was this right? Is it too soon? What if he’s like Nico? You silenced and came to the realization that he might not be like Nico. What if he was actually a good guy.

You jumped into conversation with Jughead about the copious amount of things you shared in common. Maybe things will work out.

Well that was pretty freaking cute but the good shit never really lasts. Hearts break. People lie. And love is a dangerous thing…

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accio-kitty-malfoy · 4 years ago

Text

A Breath of Fresh Hair

Chapter Six: A Wedding

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633025/chapters/59816896

Harry woke up early the next day without anyone having to wake him. He knew that everyone would already be up, so he put on some music and started preparing his area and turning it into a makeshift salon. He also made sure there was space for Cho to set up when she got there. They’d decided that it would be easier for people if they were set up near each other. When he’d finished sorting the room out, he went downstairs to see what was on offer for breakfast. It was a similar spread to the day before and Harry loaded his plate up, conversing amicably with the other people that were moving in and out of the kitchen. He took his plate of food and cup of tea back up to his room so he wasn’t taking up space in the kitchen; the charms really were being tested to their limits with the amount of people that were in the room. Ginny joined him not long after, shovelling granola with oat milk and fruit into their mouth and nursing a mug of strong black coffee.

“Hermione will be joining us in about half an hour. She’s just spending some quiet time with her mum and dad.” Harry nodded, nervousness taking hold of him. He was so scared that he would mess Hermione’s hair up on one of the most important days of her life. “So, whose hair are you doing today?”

“Erm, Hermione’s, Fleur’s, yours, your mums, Audrey’s, Lucy’s and Luna’s, when she gets here.” Ginny nodded, glancing up at the clock on the wall. It was just gone nine.

Hermione joined them not long after and Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen her so excited. The usually perfectly calm and put together woman was a ball of eager energy and Harry was delighted to see her glowing like she was. She was wearing a simple sun dress in a Lilac that complemented her rich skin perfectly. Her dress was hung up in Ginny’s room where she’d stayed the night before. Molly had insisted that it was bad luck for the bride and groom to stay together the night before the wedding, so Ron and Hermione had humoured her. Harry hugged Hermione and they set about discussing her hair. They’d already decided that they would relax it slightly, so it dropped in smoother ringlets, but that was just a case of adding some products and potions to it. She was adamant that she didn’t want it straight like she’d had it at the Yule Ball, and Harry had agreed. He loved Hermione’s hair and didn’t want to take away the natural beauty of it. She’d already washed her hair and used a leave in conditioner, so her hair was still damp. Harry set about splitting her hair into half inch sections and applying a product that would help the hair to hang in tight ringlets, occasionally spraying the hair to keep it wet. This process took quite a while and it was nearing ten when they’d finished. It would take another hour or so for it to dry and fix under the slow drying spell before they could move on to the next step. Cho arrived not long after they’d finished, and she set her gear up in the space that Harry had set aside for her.

For the next couple of hours people popped in and out to get their hair and makeup done and Harry was thriving. He adored seeing the finished product and knowing that he’d created it. Molly couldn’t get over how shiny he’d managed to get her hair and Audrey was astounded with the victory rolls that Harry had produces. The vintage style suited her down to the ground. He’d given Lucy soft, beachy waves and affixed an ever-lasting daisy into her hair. It was nearing twelve and he’d just started working on Fleur when Luna arrived. Luna and Fleur were going to be bridesmaids and Ginny was the Maid of Honour. They’d decided to go with soft curls with the front part taken back and braided down the back of the hair. Fleur was as breath-taking as ever when Harry had finished with her and Cho revelled in doing her makeup while he did Luna’s hair. He noticed that Ginny was struggling to take their eyes off the grinning woman sat in the chair in front of him. She was chatting about what stories she’d been working on at work and Ginny hung off every word she said. Harry new they’d be perfect for one another if they did decide to pursue a relationship and a feeling nagged at the pit of Harry’s stomach. It wasn’t jealousy or envy. He was incredibly happy for Ginny at the prospect of them finding love. He couldn’t figure out what it was, but it felt something like longing.

He sent Luna and Fleur off while he finished Hermione’s hair and did Ginny’s. He tasked Luna with getting him another cup of tea and asked Fleur to check with Bill to see how Ron was doing. Ginny’s hair didn’t need a lot doing to it, just wetting, some mousse, a quick blow dry and some styling product. Hermione’s just needed the curls stretching slightly and finishing off with the hair dryer. Cho had done Hermione’s makeup while her hair had been fixing and she looked stunning. She had a slight shimmer on her eyelids with eyeliner and mascara that made her long, thick lashes frame her eyes beautifully. They’d chosen a nude lip and her skin looked like it was bathed in sunlight. Harry and Cho made a good team. It was coming up to twelve thirty by the time they’d finished and that gave them all an hour and a half before the ceremony started, plenty of time for the Bridal party to get themselves into their outfits and for Harry to get himself ready. He sat and sipped his cup of tea, soaking in the moments of silence before everything started back up again. He chatted with Cho about her makeup business as he said he would, and her answers just made him more certain that his salon was something he wanted to set up. She made the point that her mobile business would have different pros and cons to a stationary shop, but that she thought Harry should go for it. It was clearly something that he enjoyed and something that he was good at. He blushed slightly at the complements, but he felt pride swell inside him. He finished his cup of tea and went to get ready and find Ron.

Harry loved the outfit that he was wearing for the wedding. It consisted of charcoal grey dress robes with a white shirt, lilac tie and shiny black brogues. He took a last look in the mirror and smoothed his hair down before going to find Ron. When he did, Ron was sat with Bill, Charlie, George and Percy. He looked as excited as Hermione had been. It was 45 minutes before the wedding; fifteen minutes before they had to go and meet McGonagall who would be officiating the wedding. She’d cried when Ron and Hermione had asked her, saying that she would be honoured. When they went into the garden it was jam packed full of people; family and friends were everywhere they looked. They were all congratulating Ron as he walked towards the bandstand like gazebo where McGonagall stood, reading through some documents. Chairs were set out on the large lawn with a lilac carpet running down the middle of them leading towards the gazebo. Each chair had a Lilac or silver sash hung over it and they shimmered in the sun. Harry patted his pocket absentmindedly for what felt like the hundredth time since Ron had handed him the rings, making sure they were still there. Ron was busy signing documents and talking to McGonagall.

It wasn’t long before everyone had taken their seats and the band struck up a slow melody. Tingles ran down Harry’s spine as he saw Hermione. Her dress was phenomenal. The lace was intricately patterned and beaded, and it twinkled softly in the sunlight. It was loose and floaty, brought in with a band of hand sewn soft purple flowers around the middle, matching the ones that were embroidered onto her veil. She had a waterfall bouquet made up of ivy, lavender, white lilies and dark purple tulips. Harry looked behind her to see Ginny in similar dress robes to him, but they were a soft lilac with silver trim. They looked so proud of their best friend that they could hardly contain it. Behind Ginny were Luna and Fleur. They looked like wood Nymphs, both of them almost gliding along and radiating beauty. Their dressed matched Ginny’s dress robes in colour and were made of a floaty material that flattered them and make them look almost ethereal. Harry could barely take his eyes off the four of them and he felt himself welling up. That was, until a flash of white caught his eye.

Draco Malfoy was near the back of the congregation with Pansy. He was wearing black dress robes with silver detailing that contrasted starkly with his pale skin. His hair was slicked back and plaited, secured with what looked like a black ribbon. Harry wondered what the other man’s hair would look like when it wasn’t tied back. Draco was still pointy, but it suited him. It made him look aristocratic and refined. Harry had to admit to himself that he carried the look well, and he was undoubtably attractive. Harry bet he was still a prat though. It was as though Malfoy could sense Harry’s gaze on him and he fixed his own grey eyes, almost like molten silver, directly on Harry. Malfoy smirked and Harry turned his attention back to the ceremony. He could still feel Malfoy’s eyes burning into him and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

The ceremony was simple and gorgeous. Harry couldn’t hold back the tears as his best friends said their vows to one another. He could tell that they meant every word from the bottom of their hearts and when they’d been pronounced husband and wife Ron held Hermione’s face so tenderly, as though she was the most precious thing in his whole world. Next came the part that most people had been looking forward to since the wedding had been announced: the food. The menu consisted of a starter of a garden salad; spring greens, red onion, tiger tomatoes, cucumber and rainbow carrots (all grown in Arthur’s garden) with a balsamic vinaigrette. The main course was grilled beef or nut roast with wild garlic mashed potatoes, asparagus, baby corn and sugar snap peas and a rich gravy. By the time the main was over, Harry didn’t think he could ever put another forkful of food in his mouth and Ginny rested their head on him, echoing his sentiment. Just then, Ron stood up.

“We have a few speeches before desert, as I’m sure you all need time to let your food settle before you eat anything else.” There was a murmur of agreement. “So, without further ado, Mr Granger.” Hermione’s dad stood up, clearing his throat.

“Since Hermione was a young girl, we tried to instil in her a sense of independence and a trust in herself. We wanted her to be strong, but we still wanted her to know that we would be here to support her no mater what. I’m sure you all know the wonderful things that Hermione has done throughout her life and I know you will all agree with me that she is an amazing young woman with a spectacular future in front of her. We never wanted her to feel like her value was measured by the person that she was dating if she chose to date anyone. We wanted her to know that a relationship was a partnership and we wanted whoever she chose to share those same values. Ron is more than we could have ever wished for. We can all see how much they love each other and they’re perfect for one another. We know that Ron will cherish Hermione and they will both support one another in whatever they want to do. We wish them the best and a long and happy future together, as I’m sure it will be. To Mr Weasley and Mrs Granger, the newlyweds” Everyone clapped as Christopher sat back down.

Harry didn’t make a speech. They’d decided that Ginny was going to do it instead, as Harry found talking in front of crowds uncomfortable. It always reminded him of being in front of the court at all of the trials after the war. His eyes drifted back to Malfoy as he thought about this, remembering speaking at his trial. Malfoy had looked incredibly ill at his trial. He was gaunt and he had large black bags under his eyes. His bones had jutted out of his translucent skin and it looked like it would tear. Harry had felt sorry for him then and he had taken the decision to speak in favour of Malfoy receiving a much reduced sentence. He knew that they were both just kids at the end of the day, manipulated by those that were meant to protect them. Malfoy was watching Ginny speak with what looked like real interest, taking in the anecdote about their childhood and teenage years. He supposed Malfoy didn’t really know anything about what life had been like for them, and he didn’t know what life had really been like for Malfoy. Once again the grey eyes locked with his own and Harry looked away. He couldn’t hide the blush this time, and he had no idea where the butterflies in his stomach had come from. He was grateful when the speeches had finished, and he could busy himself with the lemon meringue that had appeared in front of him.

After they’d eaten, they spent time taking the official photographs. When they’d been done Ron and Hermione had their first dance. Tears welled up in Harry’s eyes again as he watched them sway softly to the slow melody that was being played. He spent the afternoon dancing and talking and actively avoiding Malfoy. He didn’t get to talk to Ron or Hermione much. They were the centre of everyone’s attention and he wondered how exhausted they must be already. Everyone looked like they were having an amazing time, chatting to people they hadn’t seen in months or even years. As the sun went down the flowers that Neville had prepared bloomed, revealing the twinkling lights. A buffet of food that rivalled Hogwarts’ feasts appeared on long tables and everyone ate hungrily again, almost forgetting how much food they’d eaten before. Harry grinned as he saw Ginny and Luna sat off to one side, their hands entwined. He caught Ginny’s eye and winked, making them blush and turn back to Luna. He made a mental note to talk to Ginny about it the next day and ask how it had happened. His heart was full of love and joy. He turned around to grab some more food.

“Potter.” He came face to face with the grey eyes he’d been trying to avoid all evening and his heart began to pound in his chest.

“Malfoy.” He acknowledged, trying to act as calm and composed as the slightly taller man looked. His long fingers were delicately wrapped around a wine glass and he dipped his head in a slight nod before side stepping Harry. Harry watched him walk away, half wishing he would look back at him, half hoping he wouldn’t.

Harry didn’t go to bed until the sun was nearly up the day after. The celebrations had gone on long into the night and he could feel himself falling to sleep where he stood. Ron and Hermione had gone to spend their first night as a married couple at their own bungalow, the place they would be living from then on. He pulled his clothes off as soon as he entered his room and dropped them into a pile on the floor. His bed felt like the comfiest thing in the world and he was asleep before his head had even hit his pillow, sprawled out and snoring. His couldn’t remember what he dreamed about that night, but grey eyes and soft blond hair lingered at the edges of his mind.

#drarry #harry x draco #drarry fanfic #gay draco malfoy #bi harry potter #non binary ginny #pan ginny #trans luna #aromantic asexual charlie #black hermione granger

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scullymakesmefeelautopsyturvy · 4 years ago

Text

Several Times Scully Got Locked Out Of Her Motel Room In Her Scanties (First Time Smut Ensues) Chapter Two

Chapter One here.

Irresistible (Season Two)

They stood pressed against one another in the foyer of Donnie Pfaster’s mother’s house in Minneapolis, Mulder holding her head, a steadying hand on her upper back as she cried her terror and relief into his chest, finally letting go.

The handcut Swiss voile table runner Pfaster had used to gag her was still tied at the back of Scully’s neck as Mulder rested his lips against her bloodied, tangled hair and softly assured her things were all right.

They weren’t all right, they weren’t all right at all. They were so far from all right she didn’t know how to process it, and could only cling to him in her effort to remain upright, and present: to remain real, somehow.

A part of her was glad her father had not lived to hear about this. She couldn’t have faced telling him; couldn’t have met his eyes, knowing that he knew. She had broken his heart by veering from a career in medicine to work at the FBI, but she’d always felt certain in her conviction that she was still following the path he’d foreseen for her: to use her skills and her training to help those in need.

Yet here she was, entrusted to protect others from the predators of the world, and she just seemed to keep falling victim to them.

She had disappointed her father, and now she had failed herself.

She attempted to calm down with the technique Dr. Kosseff had outlined, closing her eyes and noting what her senses could detect in the room around her, rooting herself in her environment.

What she could hear: Pfaster being cuffed and read his Miranda rights; that was no help.

What she could smell: Mulder’s laundry detergent, the salty, sea-air tang of his deodorant, the earthen aroma beneath it that was all him. She sucked it in through her nose, filling her lungs with the scent of him between heaving sobs. That was better.

What she could feel: the full body press of his every contour against her aching, bruised form. The safe, scratchy cavern of his shoulder, where her stricken face was hidden from the gaze of the local field agents; his muscled arms, hesitantly encircling her; his ribs, crushing her breasts painfully as she clutched him tight; and his manhood, making lengthy, innocent contact with the soft swell of her stomach. That was… confusing at this time.

She took in a deep breath, the flow of her tears stemmed for now, and patted Mulder’s back in thanks, stepping away. He watched from a close, anxious distance as she untied the makeshift gag and ran her fingers through her hair, averting her eyes from any and all inquiries as to her health and wellbeing as she waved off medical attention.

“I’m fine. I just want to go to the motel,” she insisted, in a quiet voice.

Agent Bocks drove them back, Mulder silently riding up front, Scully pressing herself into the corner of the back seat against the door, her hands folded in her lap as she vehemently admonished any teardrops that dared to appear in the corners of her eyes. At a stoplight, the driver behind braked a little late, and she snapped her head back, bracing for an impact that never came.

A female agent had retrieved her bag from the trunk of her wrecked Lariat rental, and it awaited her in her room.

She turned on all the lights.

In the bathroom, Scully peeled off her dusty, bloodstained clothes and dropped them to the floor, hanging her red satin robe on the hook at the back of the door. She inspected herself in the mirror, fingering the abrasion on her chin, the contusion above her right eyebrow. There were angry stripes on her wrists and ankles from where they’d been roughly tied. There were too many cuts to count. Purpling weals were beginning to marble the pale skin of her hips, knees and arms. Her back too, probably: the raised welts a catalogue of every individual violent contact made with walls, stairs, floors. She felt each blow anew as her hands explored the injuries.

As she began to draw the bath, the sound of the cascading water sent her mind reeling to the image of Pfaster falling backwards into the tub. She saw him collapsing over and over until she wrenched off the faucet. The final few droplets fell from the chrome-plated plumbing, and as she looked down onto the settling surface she saw herself submerged below the waterline: lifeless, immersed in billowing scarlet seeping from severed veins.

She had to get back on this aqueous horse without delay. Baths were her respite, her lone sanctioned self-indulgence: scalding, frothy, synthetic-scented Elysium. Dana Scully did not shop ‘til she dropped. She rarely imbibed more than a single glass of wine. She hadn’t smoked a single cigarette since completing her undergraduate thesis. She had been averting her eyes from lingering, suggestive gazes since Quantico. She would absolutely, resolutely, categorically not allow Donnie Pfaster to ruin baths for her.

She made sure her gun was within reach, resting atop the cistern.

Climbing into the bubbleless water, she laid back against the tub, her eyes wide open. She listened to the room. The faucet dripped every few seconds. The shaving light above the mirror buzzed. A clock mounted over the TV in the bedroom counted passing seconds. God knew what time it was. She risked a few long blinks.

Behind her eyelids, she saw white. A bright light. A gurney. Her own abdomen; distended, illuminated, invaded. Images so familiar, of which she could make no sense. It looked like a dream.

It felt like a nightmare.

Like the other nightmares that shocked her awake at all hours, gasping and sweating and reaching for her weapon on the nightstand: Eugene Tooms squeezing through her hallway air duct; Duane Barry silhouetted outside her bay window; darkness, and the insistent droning whir of helicopter blades.

She sank beneath the water to soak her hair.

She washed herself; then, when the temperature began to drop, dragged her body up and out of the bath, gingerly drying off, dabbing rather than rubbing at the sore spots, which were legion. The plughole gurgled as the last of the bathtub contents spiralled away, and she shrugged her robe over her shoulders, tucking her SIG-Sauer, still in its hip holster, into the pocket.

She walked towards the bed and was about to dig her pajamas out of the open suitcase when she heard the noise behind her. A rustle of some sort. A breath, or a shuffle, maybe. She grabbed for the gun as she spun around, unclipping the holster and flinging it away from her. Safety off, she held both her arms ramrod straight and aimed for the bathroom. Her heart pounded, the only noise she could now hear the thumping of her own blood in her ears. She didn’t wait around to see if there was something else she might be missing, but backed out of the room, sidestepping the bed. Once outside, she slammed the door shut with excessive force and screamed.

Long. Livid. Loud. Not a scream of fear, but of abject fury.

She knew there was no one in that room. She was simply on edge, her body reliving her panic, her mind re-experiencing her abduction. Abductions. She didn’t need to wait another few months to know these Pfaster flashbacks weren’t just going to disappear.

Goddammit.

How would she ever escape this hell when it lived inside of her?

A body has a story to tell.

Would her own body be telling her this same story for the rest of her life, returning to the beginning at every unexplained noise, every unexpected knock, every headlight in the rearview?

She screamed again, raging against the closed door, slamming her gun-toting fist into it.

Fuck. Another bruise she’d have to nurse. And no one else to blame for this one.

“Scully?” came a quiet voice from her left. Mulder was standing outside his open motel room door, clad only in T-shirt and boxers, holding a toothbrush in his right hand. A curtain twitched across the courtyard.

“I locked myself out,” she said, just now realizing it was true, and huffing the statement through gritted teeth, as though it were the worst thing to happen to her that day. She brought her left fist to the door and thumped the side of it into the flimsy but unyielding wood for emphasis, and because she was still indescribably irritated by her overreaction.

Mulder stepped away from his door, making room for her to pass. “Scully, get in here,” he said, sounding annoyed. She glared at him, but let her shoulders drop in defeat, and obeyed.

Inside his room, she put the safety back on her handgun and left the weapon sitting on a chair. She stalked over to the empty desk and stared at herself in the mirror. The only light came from a bedside lamp.

“Are you okay?” Mulder asked, closing the door and audibly locking it.

She caught his gaze in the reflection and rolled her eyes. “Mulder, I’m-”

“Fine, yeah, I know. I thought that’s probably why you were pistol whipping your motel room door in the middle of the night. Because you were fine.” His face was stony.

She scoffed at him, pushing out her chin in vexation.

He walked towards her, dropping the toothbrush onto a small table, posture and voice both softening. “Talk to me, Scully. You can trust me. Don’t you know by now that you can trust me?”

“I don’t want to talk,” she said, looking down at her knuckles, regarding her fingers spread out on the table top. Fingers that Donnie Pfaster had wanted to disarticulate with rusted gardening shears and keep in his freezer next to his peas and carrots. She balled her hands into tight fists, and pressed her lips together, hard.

“What do you want, then, Scully?” he asked, his eyes searching hers in the mirror.

She studied her reflection. Wet hair and red robe. This wasn’t the first time she’d stood before him in a motel room like this. She thought about what she’d wanted, even then.

She didn't want to be paralyzed by fear anymore. She didn’t want to have to be protected. She wanted to protect herself. She wanted to rid herself of the traumas that resided within her body. She wanted to be her own kind of Persephone: ride into the underworld of her own volition, driving her own chariot, and emerge triumphant.

She wanted to rewrite this story, to start it when she chose to, take it where she liked, control it and end it; end it for good.

Mulder was behind her. He was right behind her, only inches from her skin, which was bare beneath the flimsy robe.

“I want you to touch me, Mulder,” she stated, loud and clear, holding his gaze.

He tenderly reached out and rested his palm on her shoulder, his eyes worried. Kind.

That wouldn’t do at all.

“No,” she said, still staring at him in the reflection. “I want you to-“

Like he did.

“I want you to grab me.”

A look of horror washed over Mulder’s features.

“No,” he said, aghast. He withdrew his hand, rubbing it over his rough stubble.

“Mulder,” she said, low and deliberate, shifting her hips so that the scarlet satin of the robe grazed over the curves of her ass, pushing out her chest so that her nipples brushed the fabric, visibly rippling the front of the garment. “I need this.”

She watched him watch her in the mirror, his pupils enlarged in the gloom. He razed his eyes over the hills and valleys of her figure, then looked away.

“Scully,” he pleaded.

“You said you could always use my help, Mulder. Now I’m asking you for yours.” She steadied herself against the desk with her hands once again. “I need to do this, on my own terms. If I need to find someone else, I’m sure I can. But Mulder,” she paused, making sure he met her gaze in the mirror once again. “You’re the only one I trust.”

Mulder stood, motionless. “I’m not certain what you’re asking of me, Scully,” he murmured.

Scully let her tense muscles ease a little. “Come here,” she instructed, softly, turning around to face him. She reached out her hand, and he took it.

Scully sat herself on the edge of the desk, her knees spread. The fabric of the robe draped over her inner thighs. A minute shift one way or the other would expose her to him completely. She pulled him towards her, tugging him close until his face was directly opposite her own, their fingers entwined, resting on her knee.

She kissed him. His lips were soft, his cheeks scratchy, and he didn’t stop her, but he didn’t give himself to her fully, either. She pulled away.

“What’s the matter, Mulder?”

“Scully,” he whispered. “I don’t - you’re not yourself.”

She sighed, taking his face in her palms. She realized she was shaking. She levelled her gaze with his. “Mulder,” she began. “That man, his crimes, I’ve never felt anything like this. I need you to bring me back to myself.” She moved her hands, resting them on his shoulders. “I want to feel human again.” She searched his eyes, silently reassuring him this was okay. “That’s what I’m asking, Mulder. Stop looking at me like that, and show me that I’m more than just his victim.”

Mulder blinked, long and hard, and this time, he kissed her. Not gently, not tenderly, but with purpose, intent. He opened his mouth to hers, and she rolled her tongue against his, powerfully, without fear or shame.

She tucked her arms beneath his, reaching up with one hand and pushing her fingers into the base of his hairline. With the other, she tugged on the fabric of his shirt at his lower back, feathering the pads of her fingertips against the skin that emerged beneath. They were still kissing, hard, and Mulder took hold of her firmly around the ribs. She gasped, half in pleasure and half in pain, as the heel of his hand dug into one of the bruises she’d examined in the bathroom earlier.

He immediately broke off their kiss, pulling back to gauge her reaction.

“Don’t stop,” she panted. “That means I like it.”

He resumed his kissing, but this time against the side of her neck, one hand falling to her left hip, the other trailing up to cover her breast through the robe. A shock of desire ran through her body right to her core, the first she’d felt tonight. This had been mechanical before; a means to an end. She’d had herself half convinced this carnal, obliterative odyssey could be undertaken with just about anyone. It was only now she remembered how much - how often - she wanted this man, specifically.

She turned her face towards his, compelling his lips to return to her own. He complied, his breath sweet and sharp from the recent brushing, and she willingly swallowed his pomegranate kisses, hoping she could return to them in better times: harvest the unmarred fruit of their evident mutual attraction, so ripe with possibility. Not this sour, infested imitation, spoiled, and rotting from within.

She tried not to think about the differences between this encounter and the tender romance she’d previously imagined when daring to envision their sexual union. It would still be him. His body, inside hers. Carrying her away from herself, dragging her beneath the earth with the frantic merging of hot, sticky flesh, freeing her, and making her anew.

She fumbled at the rear waistband of his boxers and delved her flat palms inside, grabbing hard fistfuls of his smooth cheeks, pulling him towards her. She inched forwards on the desk, her robe parting beneath the tie at her waist and falling away at the crease of her thighs. His sex rubbed against her own through the cotton of his underwear, and she tilted her hips to gain purchase, to feel the full, swelling effect of his desire against hers.

Mulder clamped his lips down more insistently upon hers, his hands pushing into her wet hair, thumbing her earlobes, pulling her jaw up towards him. His chest pressed against her breasts, and she lifted his T-shirt at the hem. They broke contact only so that he could pull it off over his head.

When he returned his mouth to hers, Scully shoved her hand down the front of his underwear and wrapped it around his now fully hard cock. She ran her thumb over the already oozing tip, and Mulder jumped in her grasp, moaning into her mouth.

She tore her face from his, breathless. She held him in her palm, pulsating granite.

“Protection?” she asked, and he reluctantly extricated himself from her grasp, walking over to the nightstand and opening his wallet.

After a few seconds he held up the square plastic packet, a look of immense relief on his face. “Thank god,” he grinned, and she returned the sentiment with a smile of her own.

He walked back towards her, slow and steady, his gaze assured. Arriving at the space between her knees again, he pushed his boxers down his legs and discarded them to one side. Scully took a long look at him now. Good god, he was enormous. This was going to be perfect.

He tore open the wrapper and rolled the condom down onto himself using both hands, then reached to untie the knot at Scully’s waist. She stopped him, shaking her head. “Like this,” she said, pushing the robe open even wider over her thighs so that Mulder could get his own unobstructed view. She reached for his hand once again, and deliberately maneuvered it between her legs, where he ran two fingers between her drenched labia.

She turned her mouth to murmur into his ear. “I’m ready, Mulder,” she instructed, and pulled him forward by the waist.

She heard him grunt as his sheathed tip bumped against her upper leg, and she spread her knees even further to give him better access. She felt him reach down between their bodies to guide himself into her, and steeled herself for the pain.

She wanted the pain.

It had been a while for her, almost three years since she’d been penetrated by anything larger than a tampon or her own two forefingers, and Mulder’s girth was considerable. He stretched her inner muscles inch by glorious inch as he eased himself into her body. Her breath caught at the back of her throat as she tried to relax herself around him. He took it easy, but she wished he wouldn’t.

“More Mulder,” she pleaded, “I can take it.”

He grasped her by the hips, and she leaned her head back into the mirror, looking down to see him pull himself out of her a fraction before driving back in, slowly, all the way to the hilt. She felt the soft, peach-fuzz pressure of his balls against her body, and the ache in her center deepened.

“That’s good Mulder,” she encouraged. “That feels good. Now, hard. I want it hard.”

His head shot up to question her; he opened his mouth to argue.

“I said hard,” she demanded, grabbing for his ass to guide him as deep as he could go. “Please.”

He seemed to relent now, because he began to pump into her, forcefully. He placed one hand against the mirror for support, and held the small of her back with the other. She crossed her ankles behind him and relished the feel of him creating new bruises, her shoulder blades pressing sharply into the glass.

Mulder was working hard, building up a sweat, and she kissed his forearm where it swept up past her face, biting his briny flesh between her teeth in her sweet agony. “More,” she said, scraping her nails across his flexing glutes. “Faster.”

Mulder’s jaw set with anger, or determination, she didn’t know which, but either way he increased his efforts, and her thighs burned where she held them up, her sex ached and clenched around him, and her head slammed into the mirror over and over. Yes, this was good.

Mulder, in an effort to shield her, moved his mirror hand behind her crown, cushioning the blows. No, no, that wasn’t what she was after: a lessening of the punishment.

Another thrust, and her hair caught between his fingers, a shock of pain tugging at her temple. Well now, this could work.

“Mulder,” she panted, desperate now. She was close, so close to the relief she sought. “Pull my hair.”

He closed his eyes as he continued to fuck her, not willing to engage on this one.

“Dammit Mulder, I said pull it,” she insisted, digging her nails into the muscles of his rear, hard.

He reacted to the tearing of his flesh with a moan and a vicious thrust, clenching the damp strands in his hand and boring his now open eyes into hers. She looked up at him, her mouth agape, a single teardrop falling down one cheek and into her ear. He gripped tighter, pounding her harder, and she nodded.

“Yes Mulder,” she said. “Yes. Yes.”

His cock was driving into her, Charon’s oar plunging into the River Styx and stirring up the forbidden pleasures of her Catholic girlhood. He collided with her G-spot again and again, and she arched into him, pressing her clit into his abdomen as he grasped her hair and steadied her hip and stared her down, willing her to those dark shores. As soon as she began to climax, shaking and swearing and tilting her head back into his fist, Mulder came as well, his thighs tensing as he lifted her off the desk and gave her everything he had for the final few thrusts.

They were still afterwards, Mulder breathing heavily into the space between her ear and shoulder. After a while, he leaned backwards, sliding himself out of her and looking her in the eyes once again. Wordlessly, he reached for the knotted belt of the robe, and this time Scully allowed him. He loosened it, pulling the slick tie open, letting the garment fall open at her center. Scully swallowed hard.

He traced the lines of the robe down over her cleavage, and softly nudged the material apart, revealing her naked skin in a widening swath. The satin fell from her shoulders and down her arms, and she was fully visible to him now, her mottled skin marked at front and back, the bruises already several shades darker than they had been less than an hour ago in the mirror. They were coming out nicely now.

Mulder dragged his eyes from injury to injury, his eyes reflecting the pain as though they were his own. He reached out to touch the discoloration on her ribs, where he had first grabbed her, but pulled away.

“Scully,” he rasped, and hung his head.

She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength.

She dipped her head, seeking his gaze, and gently placed two fingers beneath his chin. She lifted his face until his eyes met her own, and watched as the tears began streaming down his cheeks.

She opened her arms, and he stepped forward, his chest hair rubbing against her naked torso, his wet face tucking into her warm neck.

He shook with grief, and Scully steadied him with a hand on his lower back, delving her free hand into his hair once more. She kissed the side of his head.

“It’s all right, Mulder,” she whispered. “It’s all right.”

***

They eventually made it to Mulder’s bed for a few hours before their flight home, and reached an uneasy truce, her wrapped up in the robe once more, him spooning her, both of them sleeping fitfully. She heard a few unidentified noises, but didn’t reach for her gun. On the way to the airport, Mulder drove, and she watched the faces of other drivers in the rearview, but kept her panic at bay.

Waiting at a red light, Mulder broke the heavy silence.

“You know, last night-“ He cleared his throat. “Last night, I thought you called me Pfaster.”

She frowned at him.

“Near the end,” he clarified. “You said: ‘More, Pfaster.’ I thought.”

“Oh my god,” she said, horrified. “I said ‘Faster’, with an F.”

“Well, that’s what I figured. Hoped.” he nodded.

“Mulder,” she said. “You thought I called you Pfaster, and you kept going?” She was incredulous.

Mulder shrugged, looking ahead at the traffic. “You seemed like you needed to work through something.”

She gulped, tears forming. He was entirely too good for her.

Pfaster.

She closed her eyes.

Her mind wandered to another of her tormentors: Luther Lee Boggs. She’d told him to his face she’d be happy to throw the switch and gas him out of this life for good if Mulder died as a consequence of Boggs’ actions. And she’d meant it.

Donnie Pfaster was evil, pure evil, she was sure of it, but she knew she was fully capable of being monstrous too. She lay her palm across her weapon, nestled at her right hip, and imagined a different end to her stair-fall with Pfaster the night before. A few seconds more, and she might have been able to grab the gun and end it all, blast him directly between the eyes and send him straight back to hell, where he belonged.

But then how would she be any different to him? What destination would be awaiting her at the end of her days?

She suspected it would help her nightmares in one way if she knew he were dead, if she asserted control over that herself, but that it would exacerbate them in another.

She’d probably been wrong to make use of sweet, tender Mulder to try and exorcise her demons last night. Great as it had felt, she suspected she wasn’t out of the underworld just yet.

As they pulled into the Lindbergh terminal Lariat parking lot, returning to her most recent traumatic beginning, she reached out and gently squeezed Mulder’s knee. He placed his hand over her own, looking over to smile, gently.

He saw the good in her; he always had.

Maybe she could let him be her savior, follow his light and climb back out of Hades’ realm, reclaiming her faith in herself.

As Pfaster’s only living victim, she was going to have to be a witness. Perhaps this was her true opportunity to rewrite the story. Her own story.

She would argue for leniency. She would ask the judge for life.

She was going to change the ending, after all.

AO3 link here.

#xfsmut2020 #mulder and scully #mulder #scully #x files #x files fanfic #smut

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littleindigochildx · 5 years ago

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Task 27

50 Things To Ask About Your OC/Muse 1: How old are they?

-Savanna is seven and a half.

2: Do they drink? Smoke? How often?

-No/No. She is not old enough to drink or smoke.

3: What 3 words describe them?

-Caring

-Adventurous

-Smart

4: What kind of sense of humor do they have?

-Savanna has a sarcastic sense of humor despite her young age.

5: Any hidden or obvious talents?

-She is quite good at creating art. She takes after her mom in that sense.

6: What is their occupation?

-2nd grader.

7: Where is their favorite place to be?

-Savanna feels most at home in the woods surrounding her house, but her favorite place to be is anywhere her family is.

8: Do they have a love interest?

-Not at the moment. Her parents said she’s not allowed to date until she’s 30.

9: Favorite color?

-Purple and red.

10: Favorite drink? ( can be non alcoholic )

-Shirley Temple and strawberry milk.

11: Are they a neat freak or a mess?

-Savanna is always a little bit of a hot mess.

12: What is their quote/motto?

-Be wild, but stay soft.

13: Someone they look up to?

-Her mother, Victoria Deschaine. When Savanna grows up, she wants to be just like her mom. She also idolizes her older brothers and sister.

14: Can you name 3 bad traits about them?

-Savanna trusts too easily which often leads to disappointment.

-She is honest to a fault which sometimes gets her in trouble.

-She is the reason her family is late to most functions. Schedules don’t work for a free spirit like Savanna.

15: What is their favorite food?

-Tomato sandwiches. She’s been obsessed with them ever since she was introduced to the movie Harriet the Spy.

16: What is their least favorite food?

-Brussel sprouts.

17: How do you consider their fashion?

-Savanna loves to wear cotton sundresses despite her tomboy personality. She hasn’t really developed a fashion sense of her own. She usually wears whatever Victoria buys without complaints.

18: Are they independent or a team player?

-Savanna is a little bit of both. She doesn’t mind being alone but given the choice, she’d prefer having someone else to adventure with.

19: Someone/something they can’t stand?

-Savanna genuinely likes everyone, but she can’t stand when someone is disrespectful to her family.

20: Nicknames?

-Most people call her Savvy, but her mother calls her Butterfly.

21: Do they own a pet? What is it?

-Her family owns a farm so they have a lot of animals, but Toby [her horse] is the first pet Savanna has that is her very own.

22: If they were to own a pet, what would it be?

-She has been begging Victoria for baby ducks since she learned how to speak.

23: Do they dye their hair? What is their original hair color?

-No. Her parents won’t allow it. Savanna’s natural hair color is brown like her mom’s.

24: Could you describe how their room would look like?

-Savanna’s room is butterfly themed. The walls are painted white and display a lot of the seven year old’s artwork. The accent color she chose when they redid the space is purple.

25: Do they prefer light colors or dark colors?

-Savanna loves bright colors. The more vibrant, the better.

26: Bad habits?

-She has a tendency to track dirt all over the house and she has been known to bring home injured animals [which she hides from her mom in a shoebox under her bed] to nurse them back to health.

27: Dream job?

-As of right now, Savanna’s dream job is to become a veterinarian. She would also settle for a zoologist or marine biologist.

28: What kind of sleeper are they? What position do they sleep in?

-Savanna is a restless sleeper. She is most comfortable sleeping on her stomach.

29: What is something they care about the most?

-Her family and her animals are the most important things in her life.

30: Most valuable possession?

-Her teddy bear. She’s had him since birth and can’t sleep without him.

31: Do they wear jewelry?

-Yes. Savanna loves to accessorize. She has a jewelry box filled with necklaces, bracelets, and rings.

32: Do they have piercings? Want any?

-No piercings yet, but she has been begging Victoria and David to let her get her ears pierced.

33: Are they rebellious or do they play by the rules?

-Savanna usually plays by the rules, but [like most kids] she rebels when it’s something she had a strong opinion about.

34: Favorite sport?

-Soccer. She has been playing the sport since she was three and loves it.

35: Do they wear make-up?

-Savanna plays with makeup, but she is not allowed to wear it out of the house. The most Victoria will allow is lip gloss.

36: Where are they originally from? What is their ethnicity?

-Savanna was born and raised in Limbo, NV. Her last name [Thorne] is of English and Irish origins.

37: Is their voice deep? Neutral? High pitched?

-Savanna’s voice is considered deep for a child.

38: If any, what allergies do they have?

-Savanna has no known food allergies, but she is allergic to pollen and ragweed.

39: Are they outgoing or quiet?

-She is usually outgoing, but has a quiet side when something is upsetting her.

40: Favorite time of year? Why?

-Fall. Savanna loves watching the leaves change colors and her favorite holiday [Halloween] occurs in the fall.

41: Favorite smell?

-Fresh baked cookies, cupcakes, or cake.

42: Are they flexible?

-Yes. Most children are.

43: Any tattoos? Want tattoos?

-No tattoos, but she does want at least one when she’s old enough.

44: Favorite form of travel?

-Savanna loves riding her bike, especially when she can feel the sun on her face and the wind in her hair.

45: Do they like plants? What plant do they like the most?

-Yes. She has been helping Victoria and Dora in their gardens for as long as she can remember. Sugar snap peas are her favorite and she’s glad her mother and grandmother grow plenty of them.

46: Are they the type to enjoy watching tv and or play video games?

-Since her parents don’t allow much technology time, she doesn’t really like watching tv or playing video games. Savanna would much rather be outside.

47: Favorite holiday?

-Halloween.

48: Dream getaway?

-Savanna’s dream getaway would be a fully furnished treehouse in the woods. When she’s older she wants to build her house in the trees.

49: What do they find annoying?

-Occasionally, her brother Timmy. Especially when he won’t play with her, but other than that Savanna doesn’t get annoyed with much.

50: What are they most terrible at?

-Lying. Savanna rarely lies, but when she does it’s pretty obvious. The guilt consumes her until she ends up confessing to whatever it is she’s hiding.

#♡ savanna thorne #task 27 #oc #limbo nv

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babybeegarden · 5 years ago

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I am planning my spring/summer garden for 2020. It’s good to be back. I took a year off last year. It’s hard enough to find time to tend a garden but I was planning our wedding last year, too, and I felt a bit stretched and decided to give myself a break. You know I missed it, though! Getting more into houseplants has helped inspire me to get back on it for the upcoming season. Now, you may know my mom does container gardening too, and since she doesn’t work now she has plenty of time for it, but we usually share seeds and earlier this year she asked me if we should order any. Between the two of us, we have loads of old seeds, so we figured we’d be good. I haven’t been ready to start but mom’s got spring fever already so she’s been planting peas and radishes and lettuce early, and I ended up taking my whole stash of seeds to her place. So I was *conveniently* out of stock... and who would have guessed I would stop at the garden center and one thing would lead to another... and you guessed it. I bought some seeds. I got inspired by these lovely purple snap peas and peppers and I have decided to plan a PURPLE garden 🔮💜🍆 (!!!) I’m feeling like it’s going to be so fun to have a theme! Here’s what I’ve picked out so far:

Red sails lettuce, red giant mustard, sugar magnolia snap pea, ruby red chard, several purpley basils, a couple of purple peppers, zinnias and oops a pink tomato lmao. I think some pink will be ok! I also have a purple ‘green bean’ to raid back from mom and I’m still looking for 2 more tomato varieties, something early and something tiny and cuke. There is a very cute purple tomatillo possibility. I will also accent with purple pansies. I’m getting so excited now, I’ve set my alarm for sunrise for some early garden action; I will direct sow the top row and start all the rest indoors, except I might hold off on the zinnias to direct sow when it’s warmer. Here is the space I’m working with:

I’m so slack... the last pic of my container arrangement is from 3/8/18 and I’m pretty sure all those same pots are in all those same spots! Oh look, that is two years ago to today, huh! (3/8/20)

#container garden #gardening #green witch #plant mom #pagan #vegetable gardening #babybeegarden

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smolstrawberrychara · 6 years ago

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Klance Au Month - Day 2 - Galtean

I went Galtean Royalty because I love that au so much ♥

I Forgot Something...

Lance is an Altean Prince, up to no good, sneaking back into Castle Marmora because he chickened out of doing something earlier in the day. That something being confessing that he'd loved to kiss the Galran Prince Keith.

Read on ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17636060

“Psst.”

Lance hung his body over the castle wall, kicking his legs as he tried to stretch his body beyond natures restraints.

“Pssssst!” He repeated, more insistent. Keith was walking along the grounds right below him, stopping every now and then to stroke a gloved hand along one of the lower swinging tree branches heavy with lilac flowers. The outer gardens of Castle Marmora were more of an orchard than a garden. Huge, sprawling trees with shining, pea-green leaves decorated the perfectly cut lawn and provided great blockades against Lance’s vision. Smacking at the branches, he leaned further out in order to keep on eye on the Galran prince who was getting further and further away by the minute. Lance had to do something drastic.

“KEITH.” He yelled, throwing himself further out. His hand caught on a few branches that dipped wildly with the weight but held. Keith finally glanced up, blinking wide purple eyes at him. Lance’s heart skipped at the sight. He was so handsome, with his deep indigo pupils and golden irises that swallowed Lance whole. A wide, pointed ear flicked on his head like a cat’s and his mouth opened but before anything could come out Lance registered the sound of snapping twigs.

Oh no.

His hand crushed pollen into his palm as the branch gave way and gravity finally had its way with him. Lance tumbled head first into the foliage, wood scratching at his clothes and leaves smashing into his face. He braced himself for impact when he found himself, bouncing to a halt.

Instead of hard ground, there was taut muscles cupping his legs and back. Lance blinked up to find an alarmed face.

“Nice catch!”

Lance jolted. Then he was violently swung around as Keith moved to face the voice.

Above them, hand squished against a plump cheek, was a large boy in golden armour. The yellow ticks by his brown eyes seemed to melt as he watched the two like they were a movie.

“Hunk!” Lance squawked, feeling the blood rush to his face again. “What the hell are you doing here!?”

“I’m your bodyguard,” he said flatly, lounging against the concrete, “s’kinda my job.”

“Not when I sneak out…” Lance mumbled to himself, leaning into Keith’s chest. He was dressed in his deepest blue finery with a button-down shirt, silver chest plate and embellished jacket fitted over the top. It was Lance’s favourite outfit because Keith wore his sword with the strap slung over his shoulder instead of tied at the waist and that somehow made him sexier. He found himself poking at the white leather, attempting to ignore Hunk’s vigilant eye.

“Lance. I’m a royally trained body guard. You can’t just sneak away from me.”

No shit, he was like a goddamn cheetah or something.

Lance pouted, glaring up at him once again. “Well, I’m allowed my privacy.”

“And you can get it.” Hunk replied easily, “just tell me where you’re going and remember to bring your sword.”

Lance angrily swished the white lengths of his tunic back to reveal the bright, sapphire embedded hilt of his weapon, tucked neatly against his grey trousers. “I did bring my sword.”

Hunk hummed thoughtfully as Lance replaced the fabric like a delicate silk curtain. “But you didn’t tell me about this secret lil lovers’ rendezvous.”

“HUNK!” Lance screeched. Hunk knew that’s not what this was, that Keith and him were absolutely not an item. That was a whole different problem in itself. Speaking of, Keith looked down at Lance with a tilt to his head and wonky ears. Then he was looking back up at Hunk, lip caught under a tooth as he analysed him. Lance wanted to shrink into the ground. But also wanted to pull Keith down with him.

Hunk laughed easily, up on his wall, far away from any kind of harm Lance could put him under. Lance cursed him under his breath.

“Okay, okay, I’ll leave you.” Hunk said with a chuckle, “but just know, I’ll be right on the other side of this wall so speak up!”

Like hell Lance was gonna speak up! He stuck his tongue out at his friend, but Hunk had already hopped down the wall and out of sight. Why did everything have to be so complicated being royalty?

Keith cleared his throat and Lance suddenly remembered he was still being cradled in his arms. Blood rushed to his face again, and he threw his gaze out to the trees, attempting to crawl out of the embrace. Keith lowered him down like a gentlemen, before straightening his lapels and regarding Lance more formally.

“Did you need something?”

Lance swallowed thickly. Yes. He did.

A few weeks earlier they’d had a diplomatic meeting. Lance had been sent alone since as neighbouring kingdoms, the Galran and Altean families had always had a good relationship. There wasn’t much in the way of politics to discuss and Lance’s parents deemed him old enough to leave on his own missions. However, when they left, Lance’s entourage were attacked. Bandits appeared from the roadside, leaping at the horses and trying to steal the Royal seal. They were armed and fought dirty, stabbing at the horses and throwing stones at the knights. Lance immediately grabbed the seal – the stamp allowing him to approve any law, maintain his identity, and access classified information. Then he tied it to his belt and unsheathed his sword. Cutting his way out the fabric shelter of his carriage he swung into action, refusing to allow any of his court to get harmed. It was a bloody battle and Lance watched in horror as a bandit landed on Hunk’s back, toppling the sturdy man to the ground. He lifted a rock high to the air. Lance ran. He wasn’t going to make it.

Then an arrow shot past his head, a hairs breadth from his cheek. It stung straight into the arm of the bandit and the rock crashed to the ground. Hunk didn’t wait for a second chance. He quickly flipped their positions, trapping the bandit against the floor before tying his hands in effortless motion. The battle changed then, the mysterious bowmen shooting anyone who got too close - injuring, but never aiming to kill. Lance had never been more thankful in his life. As soon as the battle was won, he ran up the hill to find their heroic defender. However, the rocks were empty of anyone. All he found was gravel paths and jagged grey cliff edges.

Lance never found the person responsible. But he did find their arrows. They were exquisite. Made of a black wood, they had fletching made of the peacock feathers and the head was engraved with roses that wound around the flint. Lance picked up one that had missed its target and placed it in his belt loop for safe keeping.

The event had almost been forgotten, the arrow just another nameless treasure. That was until a few hours ago, when the two families had returned to Castle Marmora for a banquet. Lance noticed the pattern adorning the edges of the dining table. Roses. As he traced the etchings in awe, Shiro addressed him.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” He’d said, smiling kindly at Lance who felt like a deer caught in torch light. He’d nodded shakily. “Keith’s mother loved the pattern. Had everything engraved like that. Hey Keith!”

Shiro turned away to call his brother on the other side of the table. “Show Lance your pendant.”

Keith blinked at them, eyes lingering on Lance. It made his stomach fizzle. Keith always seemed so intense. Everything he did had purpose. Which meant it took everything in Lance not to believe those looks were nothing special.

He’d slid out of his chair and up to Lance’s side, bringing a chain out from beneath his shirt. He leant forward and Lance tried not to focus too much on the bob of his throat or the clean cut of his jaw. Then he noticed the pendant and his breath hitched. On the blackened silver oval were roses, swirling around the metal like vines. The carving was the exact same as the arrow head.

“Yeah, it’s an original design too,” Shiro continued. “Only she had the rights to use it. And now it belongs to Keith.”

Lance froze in the warm room. Keith was the only one with the design. Keith’s pendant matched the arrows. They were Keith’s arrows. Which meant Keith was the one saving Lance’s life.

Lance had felt a buzz beneath his skin all day after that. He knew Keith was a noble person and a fine prince. But he never thought he was a vigilante too. His stomach swooped at the thought. Keith was a caring prince. Someone who helped those in need no matter their status. Lance promised himself he’d thank him, let him know just how important he was to Lance. But then the afternoon was all busyness and food and he never got the chance to tell him. Or maybe, he might have just chickened out. He regretted his silence as soon as they left. Which was how he ended up sneaking out the palace and scaling walls.

Usually, a formal thank you was made with a bow. A sincere one involved holding one’s hand. But a deep feeling of gratitude, the one blooming in Lance’s heart, was shown by a kiss on the cheek.

Allura made it look effortless, thanking all their knights after battle with a ceremony in the throne room. Hell, even Lance made it look effortless as he met each member of their court, delicately taking their hands and leaning close to blushing cheeks.

Now he was the one blushing.

Because this wasn’t just a formal thank you for a worker, or a kind-hearted traveller. This was Keith. His Keith. The one he dreamt about kissing every other night. It meant more.

“I, uh…” Lance began, cursing the words for sounding so awkward, “I forgot something.”

Forgot to put my lips on that fuzzy cheek and whisper sweet nothings in the ears above it, he thought, biting down the words and the heat now coursing through his body.

“Oh, what was it?”

To tell you that I think I might be in love with you, Lance thought again, tummy twirling like one of the court dancers. He didn’t say this of course.

“An earring.” Lance said. There was a snort on the other side of the wall and Lance cast it a death glare. Damn Hunk and his supersonic hearing.

“An earring?” Keith repeated.

“Yep! An earring!” Oh my god why did he say that? Why didn’t he just admit he knew Keith was the secret bowman? “Must have fallen off in the dining hall!”

Lance forced out a laugh, willing his insides to finally fizzle away so he could just flop into the grass as a skin rug and disappear.

“You wanna go look for it?”

“What?” Lance squeaked.

“The earring.”

There was another snort and Lance wanted to throw himself through the wall just to slap Hunk. Keith’s ears twitched at the noise, and he looked over curiously to the spot Lance was attempting to blow up with his mind.

“As long as that’s okay with your bodyguard.” Keith said carefully. Lance wanted to die.

“Oh that is absolutely fine by me!” Hunk crowed from the other side of the wall, “hey, you want me to pack a lunch, you might be there a while!” His words dissolved into laughter and Lance fought the urge to growl. Keith looked back to Lance, blinking curiously and Lance felt like his head was going to erupt like a volcano.

“What does-?” Keith began but Lance quickly cut him off.

“Just some Altean humour, don’t worry about it.” Then he turned to the wall and took in a huge breath. “No thanks Hunk! Just quiznakking leave!”

More laughter, even harder than before. There were wheezing breaths and armour clattering like Hunk was struggling to even stand upright at that point. Lance flipped his head around and away. Grabbing Keith’s hand, he stormed towards the castle. He did not need Hunk’s teasing right now.

~*~

The dining room floor was gross and sticky. There were crumbs everywhere and Lance kept putting his hands in squidgy half chewed morsels that made him gag. Keith had offered to get his servants to look but Lance instantly refused. The more people involved, the more troublesome the situation would become when they inevitably did not find an earring. That thought alone made the endeavour worse. There was no earring. Lance was on his hands and knees, creaking over dark, polished floor boards for absolutely no reason. And Keith too. Guilt twisted in his gut as he looked over to the other. Keith was crawling around with complete resolution, scanning every inch of the room like a predator out for prey.

Lance crawled under the table with a sigh. He still hadn’t thanked Keith. And he’d made a complete fool of himself this whole afternoon. He’d tried to call off the search for the non-existent jewellery but Keith, being the sweet, loyal, person he was, refused to give up. The intensity in his eyes had Lance melting and he just nodded along before carrying out a more extensive search. Why? Why did he have to be so pathetic?

“Found it!”

What?

Footsteps thudded against the floor before Keith was sliding under the table to meet Lance. His face was red with the exertion and his eyes sparkled above a wide grin. Lance’s throat went dry.

“Look!”

Keith held out his hand and there, lying in the centre of a purple palm, was an earring. It was diamond encrusted, feather hanging below with a chain joining the base up to a silver cuff. It was beautiful. It was decidedly not Lance’s. He swallowed thickly.

“That’s it!” He lied.

Keith swelled with pride, eye’s only glowing brighter. Then he reached forward, brushing Lance’s hair back behind his ear.

“May I?’

Lance lost the ability to breathe. Keith was too good to him. He was so pure and innocent and charming. He was all goodness and Lance was a terrible person because he couldn’t refuse it. And even though he struggled to even speak, muscles pulled too tight in anticipation, he managed a nod.

Keith’s features softened. Then he was leaning forward to clip the earring to Lance’s pointed ear. His fingers were delicate, touch light as if he was scared to damage the skin. The treatment made Lance’s heart flutter. Keith was so close that Lance could feel his body heat against his skin, and it made his chest pound. A nail brushed the soft skin behind his ear and Lance flinched. It was the smallest touch but it sent sparks racing through Lance until all he could feel was the spot behind his ear. Keith noticed the movement and shuffled back muttering a ‘sorry’. All Lance wanted to do was grab him by the collar and reel him back in.

The final piece clicked into place and Lance clicked back to reality. This wasn’t his earring. Oh God. He was wearing somebody else’s earring. It was probably covered in who knows what from sitting on the floor for years getting squashed under shoes and smothered by food. He had to fight a retch, thinking of all the germs he’d just surrendered himself to. Keith was being so sweet and so delicate, treating Lance like he was the only person who mattered in the world. And Lance desperately wanted to throw up.

He held it back, faking a smile. But when he saw Keith again, he forgot it all. The prince was leaning back on his heels, fond smile against his cheeks. It was one of those rare smiles, Lance had witnessed too few of. The one that softened his eyes, smoothed his edges and made his cheeks round. Lance was overtaken with the urge to kiss those little apples. It was so strong he thought he might cry.

“Lance?”

A hand touched Lance’s thigh and he nearly combusted. Keith was worried now, one ear drooped to the side, other high in alarm. His thumb turned a circle and Lance lost it.

“I know it was you!” He burst out, heat exploding across his face.

Keith blinked, movement freezing.

“I-, what?”

“The other week. I know it was you protecting my troop. With the arrows.”

Slowly, realisation crossed Keith’s face. Then he was hiding it, hand squeezing Lance’s leg. Lance wanted to squeeze him back.

“I wanted to thank you.” Lance continued, ducking his head to meet Keith’s eyes. “I don’t know many princes who would risk their life for their own troops, let alone somebody else’s.”

It was true. So many royals only wanted to protect themselves. But Keith didn’t. It was what attracted Lance to him in the first place. He never once put himself above his people. He was always prepared to fight for them. His loyalty made Lance’s chest ache.

“Well,” Keith said, looking up. The sweet curve was back and it made Lance’s stomach go all fizzy. “I don’t know many princes who would fight alongside theirs.”

Lance blushed despite himself. Keith was just so close, and the table surrounding them made the moment feel so much more intense. Intimate. Like they were the only two people left in existence. Keith slid his hand against Lance’s thigh, creeping forward and his other hand fell onto Lance’s. Lance’s eyes flew to them. Was that on purpose? His fingers were touching Lance’s. Were they supposed to be? Was it an accident? Platonic touches? Or was it that romantic handholding Lance had been dreaming about? He wiggled his fingers, testing whether Keith realised they were there. He didn’t pull away. Instead he weaved his own between them and Lance’s brain went into overload.

Keith leaned even closer, close enough for Lance to notice that his eyelashes weren’t black. They were a deep navy colour. And long, thicker than his own, fluttering against his cheeks like butterfly wings.

“It was an amazing fight.”

God, his voice was so silky. Lance couldn’t help being drawn into it, licking his lips.

“Yeah?” He managed, and his voice cracked on the words.

Keith’s lip quirked at the sound. “It was. I liked seeing you fight. Effortless, but undeniably determined. Your eyes were so intense I thought you wouldn’t need your sword.”

Lance opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“I like your eyes.” Keith said, gaze flickering over his features. His tongue smoothed against his lips and Lance followed the movement. “I find them interesting. How they’re usually pooling with life but can change instantly. And then they’re blazing hot anger and raw valiance.”

Lance swallowed thickly.

“What about now?” He asked, voice a foreign deepness. “What are they showing you right now?”

“Something I’d always wanted to see.”

Then he was diving forward, crossing the short distance to Lance’s mouth. His lips captured Lance in passion and Lance grabbed his neck to pull them flush together. Deepening the kiss, he could barely breathe as Keith enveloped him. He smelled of leaves and the orchard and the tiny flowers he liked to stroke. His skin was soft against Lance’s fingers, and his hair rough in his palm. He kissed the way he did everything – intensely. He poured himself into it and Lance could only return with equal vigour, melting into his touch.

When they finally pulled back, they didn’t get very far. Keith’s hair was a mess. His collar was crumpled, exposing his neck and Lance couldn’t help himself. Before he could see anymore, he was diving into the space. Kissing up the skin, he found it hot and salty. He nipped against the spot just below Keith’s jaw and the other let out a surprised moan. Lance decided it was his favourite sound. He licked the mark and Keith slumped against him. A hand curled into Lance’s hair, nails scratching against his scalp and Lance hummed in appreciation. He continued his journey, kissing further up Keith’s jaw, all the way up to his ear and finally he managed to peck that damn cheek. It was like peach fuzz, warm against his lips. Lance let a little sound of appreciation before finally pulling back to see his handiwork.

Keith’s eyes were heavily lidded, face flooded with red. His mouth was parted, and his breaths panted across his swollen lips. Lance wanted to kiss them again. But he stopped himself. Planting his hands firmly against his knees where they wouldn’t misbehave, he spoke.

“I, uh…”

Lance didn’t know what to say. Were they a thing now? Or just a fling? Lance really didn’t want it to be just a fling. He liked Keith far too much. And he was struggling to just keep his hands to himself right then. But he didn’t know how to say that and didn’t want to embarrass himself any further. Looking at the floor, he wondered if he should just run away now. That would solve one problem. But he didn’t get the chance when a warm hand cupped his cheek.

Keith looked at him with complete adoration. It was such an intense fondness that Lance felt his bones turn liquid. With that memory alone, he could just become a puddle on the floor. His voice matched the softness and Lance’s chest ached.

“I know Hunk’s waiting-”

Dammit Hunk. He was going to have an absolute field day when Lance got back.

“-but maybe we could go walk around the city some time. It’s beautiful at night.”

Lance blinked. Then he blinked some more, but Keith’s sincerity didn’t disappear. His ears were even tilted downward, like he was nervous. It was beyond cute. Lance couldn’t help it. He threw his arms around the other’s neck, sending Keith wobbling backwards.

“Yes. I’d love that! Yes!”

Lance felt more than heard the resulting laughter rumbling from Keith’s chest. He couldn’t help but reflect it, the warmth spreading through his entire body like a spa. He had a date. With Keith. The though made him want to burst.

#klance au month #galtean klance #galtean au #klance #klance fic #galra keith #altean lance #prince lance #prince keith #klance royal au #my post #my writing

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nol-overwatch · 5 years ago

Text

The Language of Flowers

He keeps getting flowers at his grave.

[Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison x Reader]

He believed in the saying “Pity the living instead of the dead”, and at his supposed ‘death’ he hung onto that belief like it was his last lifeline. As the years wear on and his vigilante escapades all over the world stoked unwanted attention, it was safe to say that he pitied those who are even alive to incur his wrath. His conquest to uncover the truth of Overwatch’s downfall continued on, friend and foe remained a stranger in his eyes.

On his first year, he returned to his grave, not to reminisce, but to hide from a criminal syndicate who were adamant on hunting him down. It was for a brief moment, in the darkness while he tried to catch his breath, that he spotted a flower on top of his grave stone. It was too surreal; a dark crimson rose sat lonesome on the stone. He figured that some people still thought of him as a hero, and that thought sickened him. With rage he crushed the flower with his fist, and went on his way to find a car to steal.

It was a few months later, that when he passed by a flower shop in London, that he saw the same crimson rose in a bouquet on full-display, a card at the bottom saying “Flowers for Mourning”.

Was he happy that he ‘died’? That naive, charismatic, blonde, blue-eyed fella who thought he could take on the world on his shoulders and still look good for the press to snap a photo of? Maybe. He certainly didn’t miss having to kiss the UN’s ass all the time, or enduring the painful conundrum of the protesters outside of the base. The world despised him anyways, and while he, in turn, could hate them as well, he couldn’t. His moral compass may have shattered but duty above all else stamped right through. He is not Jack Morrison, Strike Commander of Overwatch anymore. He is Soldier: 76, the wanted vigilante in search of true justice.

On his second year, he returned to his grave, a little calmer and a little bitter as age wore him on. He meant to just pass by, before hitchhiking a train to the next state, when he saw another flower, a full bouquet this time, of beautiful pinks and whites. He mused that some people still don’t know when to give up, and left the flowers alone. A month later, while camping at the mountains in Pakistan, a traveler pointed out to him the same pink and white flowers littered across the plain called Sweet Peas, the symbol of goodbye and farewell in the language of flowers.

Sometimes he thought this vigilante thing would never last. He often blamed his age for it, wondering when will be the day he’ll finally break down due to his old bones and weakening sanity. Sometimes they come in the form of danger, such as being strapped to the front seat of a car while sitting in the middle of the train tracks. It was mostly thanks to his super soldier strength, and the rest to his luck, that he was able to survive that, but Jack knew he couldn’t rely on those two for long.

The third year he returned in the form of an accident; he jumped off a plane and miraculously survived after dropping into the icy cold waters of a nearby lake. He didn’t know where he was going, too preoccupied with the cold settling in his bones, his legs unconsciously reaching the sight of his gravestone. He was dumbfounded to find purple flowers in a vase, reminding him of the lilacs at Gerard and Amelie’s wedding day. He didn’t need to go around and know what they mean: “Good luck to a new beginning.”

He was startled out of his wits when he heard a voice, “Sir, are you alright?” Immediately, he swiveled around, hand quickly going for his sidearm, to see someone wearing a gardening hat and holding a large broom on their hands. The keeper of this side of the cemetery perhaps?

“No, I’m fine.” He gruffly said before sprinting away, concerned that a civilian has spotted him.

Each year, he thought of the flowers and why on earth someone would waste their time on a problematic hero. It couldn’t be one of his fans, right? He remembered, during the glory days, he’d receive fan mail from teens younger than Oxton, and men and women who were definitely older than him. All expressed their admiration and love and at the time, he thought it was ridiculous. He still thinks it’s ridiculous. After all, he’s just a soldier. Surely they would’ve heard of the allegations held against him and Overwatch. Anyone would be willing to drop an Overwatch operative in hiding just for the reward money.

He decided to be a tad bit crafty, and visited his grave a week later just to see if anyone still cared. In his heart, he allowed a tiny spark of hope that someone out there still believes in their mission for peace, no matter how convoluted it was in the first place. He was still hiding from the local syndicates when he arrived at dawn, only to be disappointed at the appearance of an empty grave. No flower, no vase.

He wanted to kick himself; of course, nobody cares about a dead guy. Not anymore.

As he stood there, contemplating about his next move, a familiar voice sounded behind him, “Ah, you’re here again.”

He hesitated turning around to acknowledge them, but he nodded curtly. “Not surprised to see an old timer visit an empty grave?”

“No, more like I’m surprised to see Soldier: 76 around these parts.”

He growled at that, but he didn’t offer any more words. A civilian would try to apprehend him to the authorities, but like hell would he not resist at all. He waited for the signs of apprehension appearing on their face, but surprisingly there were none.

In fact, the keeper wasn’t looking at him, but the grave in front of them. “This man was a hero, not like the others here. And yet, you don’t see enough flowers in his grave.”

“He wasn’t worth any flowers.” He replied, only to see a flash of hurt cross the gardener’s features before it disappeared completely. “Of course he was. Last week, there were red and yellow zinnias on his grave. I just threw them out after they’ve wilted yesterday.”

He was quiet after the outburst, opting to replay the whole thing in his head. Somebody is still giving him flowers?

After a long moment of silence, of him staring hard at the ground and the gardener looking off into the rising sun in the sky, he mumbled quietly, “...What did they mean?”

“Mean what?”

“The Zinnias.” Another brief pause.

“Remembrance, and steadfastness.”

As time went on, he found some semblance of the justice he was searching for. The infamous assassin and guardian of Anubis, Shrike, turned out to be one of his long-dead best friends and former second-in-command, Ana Amari. After their escapades in Egypt, the two have agreed to work together again in search of answers. Ana had aged beautifully; though the same cannot be said for the old soldier, who admitted that he longed for the domestic life. The both wanted to return to their families, but they decided that the world isn’t safe yet for their respective loved ones. Ana, with her daughter Fareeha, and Jack, with his ex boyfriend Vincent.

On the fifth anniversary of the fall of Overwatch, Jack, at Ana’s insistence, visited his grave again. They were in the area and they might as well come see. He remembered, during his funeral, how his parents wanted his grave to be situated at Bloomington, Indiana, his home; not in a cemetery of heroes, not when the body wasn’t even found. He thought how funny and sad it was that they left Gabe’s grave alone, knowing full well how much he meant to their son. Five years later, and that day still held no special meaning to him whatsoever.

Except, maybe, for that one thing that continued to bother him.

When the both of them arrived, some time nearing dusk, he stopped dead at a figure approaching his gravestone. Ana, having noticed this, held tightly to her gun. “Who is that, Jack?” She said hurriedly as they hid behind some trees.

“I have no idea.” His mind was in hyperdrive and his heart was beating so loudly. Could this be the person who was giving him flowers for all these years? He wanted so badly to find out who they are, to ask why they’re still doing this, when his legs suddenly moved on its own.

He walked briskly, and then he started running, and he didn’t stop until he was face to face with the gardener of the cemetery.

He was out of breath, not from the run but from his thoughts all jumbled up, “W-why..? You, you know what happened..!” He roared, his voice echoing across the place. He should be more quiet, more respectful, but damn them all to hell!

The gardener stared at him, too surprised to even form words, when they frowned ever so slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, vigilante.”

“That man was no hero--”

“He was a hero,” They countered, their voice ringing loudly. “And he saved my life and countless others. I don’t care what the world thought about him; he was a good person. Too good for this world I dare say.”

He didn’t like to hear those words, but his tongue stilled, too distressed and bewildered to think that this is even happening. He wasn’t paying attention when the gardener turned their back on him and continued to move towards the grave.

In a gentle, peaceful motion, they settled down a tuft of white chrysanthemums from the inside of their jacket, slightly crushed from the inner folds. They took their time to dust the grave before standing up to admire it; the soldier behind them sulked quietly. “They never found the body, some say it got crushed under all the debris, others say he survived. The latter...saddens me--” They didn’t see him flinch. “--but I find it understandable.”

“The world wanted him dead when he failed to keep them safe, when even with his abilities and his comrades, they’ve all forgotten that he is human as well. I’d hide too, even change my name and my essentials, just so society won’t reject me again. It’s not good, but it’s the most human thing to do.”

They stood up and looked back at the soldier, a look of sincerity evident on their face. “I don’t know what you thought of him, Soldier, but you can agree with me that if he were alive, he’d still be fighting for what he believes in, right?” They said, a gentle smile caressing their features.

When Jack didn’t say anything, the gardener thought it was time for them to leave and start work, when his gruff voice sounded up again, “Chrysanthemums, what do they mean?”

The gardener paused, surprised at that type of question, before sighing contentedly. “Loyalty to one another. I think it’s my way of saying that, I do still believe in Jack Morrison.”

#Overwatch #Soldier76 #Jack Morrison #gender netural reader #post fall overwatch #fanfiction

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immiebee · 6 years ago

Text

Oh god...I loved Valerius’ ending in Nadia’s Route. I’ve been working on stories for him and Lactarius, but I haven’t reached this point yet. I had to share this short before I go crazy!

*********************

A boisterous laugh filled Valerius' study on a warm sunny day. The windows opened to let in fresh air and warm sunshine into the large grand study; books lined the walls in large bookshelves, paintings of Valerius, Lactarius and their son hung on the wall. A constant reminder to continue to better himself, not just for him but for his family. Currently abandoned work documents pushed to the side of his desk and in their place a large leatherbound book opened to reveal a knight doing battle with a great dragon.

Valerius couldn't resist his son's large blue eyes, especially when Alaric cocked his head to the side, soft pout on his lips. Damn his wife! She could teach him fire breathing for all he cared, but her signature smolder playing on his cubby face....TYRANNY! It also didn't help that the toddler was desperately clutching the large book to his small body, trying so very hard not to let it touch the floor. Nadia had let the boy keep the book when Lactarius and Alaric had visited the palace a few weeks ago. The Countess eyes sparkling when Alaric sat at the floor in front of the fireplace sounding out words, eyes squinting in concentration as he tried to read the words before him. Soon what was supposed to be a meeting for the aquaduct system turned into story time as the group took turns reading the fairytale the young boy was currently wrapped up in.

So here the partially retired Consul sat, with his son in his lap, at his desk, and reading how the brave Knight Oryn battled against the vicious Dragon. Smiling when Alaric squealed as Knight Oryn barely missed a sharp claw, rolling away from snapping jaws. The ombre haired man reaching down to playfully grab onto his son's side, mocking a growl as the Dragon's tail lashed out striking the Knight, giving his own laugh as he tickled Alaric's side. His son turning in his lap, arms raised and short ombre hair thrown back as he gave his own fierce little roar in return.

Valerius shrunk back in his chair, "Oh dear! It seems as though my son has been transformed into a dragon! What ever will I tell his dear mother?!"

The Consul falling back clutching his chest dramatically(maybe he should stop going to the theatre? or tell Lactarius that damn doctor isn’t allowed on the ground) closing his eyes, peeking open one as his two year old placed his small hands on his face. He gave a soft smile as Alaric's eyes became huge.

"No Da! It me! No faint!"

"OH THANK GOODNESS!"

Alaric squealed as Valerius sat up tickling his sides. The two of them too wrapped up in each other that they failed to see Lactarius staring out her greenhouse window across the length of the manor, eyes shining as she watched the two of them playfully swat at each other. The witch shaking her brown misscut hair, pulling it back so the undercut was clearly shown as she continued to clip and trim her overgrowing forest that she called a greenhouse. Gannen's large black body sprawled out in the greenhouse window, the Main Coon mix chittering as the birds hopped around on the stoned patio that connected the greenhouse to the outdoor garden.

As the pair finished the story, Knight Oryn having slayed the mighty Dragon and was now to wed the Princess Amata, Alaric sat in his father's lap content and tired. Valerius closing the book, craddled his son against his chest, placing his son's head on his shoulder as he picked up the scattered documents to read later. Alaric's little arms wrapping around his neck, tiny fingers twisting into his ombre braid.

"Grapes...."

Valerius gave a soft smile. It wasn't anything new that his son would randomly blurt out anything he thought of or saw. That magician's violet snake may not be cute to Valerius, but Alaric had picked up on her random outbursts. Watching the two of them (supervised under Valerius' commanding request) the two of them could make a crowd melt.

Patting his son's back Valerius murmmured softly, "Yes son. Da's wine are made from grapes."

"Moo!"

Confusion shifted in the Consul's face, "Your Momma has her cows in the barn. We can see them after you had your nap."

“Moo! Eat grapes! YUM!"

Alaric sat back pointing out behind Valerius, his bright blue eyes wide and a grin crossing his chubby face. Short ombre hair raising in excitment, mimicing his mother's excited demanor. Valerius turning his head to the window in confusion nearly dropping his son in the process. Golden eyes wide open as he stared in horror as one of Lactarius' brown Swiss cows poked her head into his study, licking her red/purple covered muzzle. Bellowing into the study to the man and his son.

"MOO!" Alaric laughed as Valerius placed him down before he raced over to the window slamming it in the cow's face, as his son bounced happily. "MOO! MOO! MOO!"

"Shoo!!! AWAY WITH YOU! NO! nonononono!!! Get away from there you beast!" Shrieking when he saw three more happily trotting through his vineyard.

Valerius opening the window to yell across the length of the manor, "Lacatrius! LACTARIUS!!!! YOUR DAMN BEASTS ARE OUT!"

Staring in horror as he saw the short woman desperately battling one of her other cows, shoving at it's chest as the brown silver cow happily munched on an uprooted strawberry bush. Quickly picking up his son and shouting for servants, Valerius had an army of guards and servants trying to contain Lactarius' five free roaming girls. As they wrangled the first two, Bane, the eldest and head guard, discovered the rowdy group had broke the fencing that went around their pasture and barn, successfully containing them until now. With two of the brown and silver cows contained in the large stone barn the group turned their attention to the three runaways.

Passing Alaric off to Mabel, the senior house maid a kind greying woman, Valerius raced off to help Lactarius with an irrate cow. The one in question, Sweet Pea (the guards having named the aggressive silver cow) throwing her head low, stomping the ground as Lactarius, her grey dungaree dress and white sun hat firmly tied around her neck, held her hand open in a desperate attempt to buffalo the cow. Valerius slowing to a stop behind Lacatrius, unsure but ready to help his wife. Thank the gods, she had rubbed off on him fashion wise. His black casual pants and knee high boots, loose white shirt were better for fighting off angry heifers, not his expesnive cashmire robes. Turning back to Lactarius, Sweet Pea wasn't falling for it, she charged forward head lashing out as she butted agianst the woman. Lactarius gripping, the heifers ears as she locked her legs in place keeping her head back from Sweet Pea's thick skull.

"OI! Knock it off you cantakerous bitch!" Another buck of the head followed by a quick session of front hooves stomping the dirt in a desperate attempt to crush toes. "Quit it Sweet Pea!"

Valerius covered his ears as Lactarius gave a loud sharp whistle. Head turning when he heard the sounds of whinnys from the stone stables, directly across from the barn. His beautiful black Arabian mare, Isadora, and Lactarius' blue roan Draft Shire, Onyx, were turned out to pasture earlier that morning. Isadora cantering up and down the fence as the chaos continued, her snorts and whinnys shrill and annoyed as people scattered about. Onyx on the other hand had stood watching, ears perked forward, breathing steady taking in the scene. That was until Lactarius' sharp whistle had him galloping away from the fence only to race back towards it, clearing the tall wooden structure.

His thunderous hooves charging towards the two humans and the irrate cow. A loud bray had Sweet Pea backing off from Lactarius, head still low ready for a fight. Onyx cantered around the couple placing himself in between the group. His large head lowered, stance wide as Sweet Pea charged again, only to be met with Onyx's flank in her face and his bucking legs. The cow backing down as soon as she realized she couldn't bully her way into the garden, turned her attention to the green and blooming vineyard. Valerius' breath hitched in his throat, pushing past Lactarius towards the blue roan Shire. "HERD HER BACK DAMMIT! HERD HER BACK!"

After an hour of Onyx playing body guard for the vineyard, all of the cattle was placed in the barn. Not without casualties, some of Lactarius' garden had been trampled and eaten, while a small section that was closest to the pasture was stripped clean from the other two that they had been dealing with. Groaning the sweaty and dirty couple sat down on the greenhouse patio under the shade of a willow. Valerius grumbling curses as he counted the cost of the damages done, Lactarius chin tucked up to her chest as she growled lowly. Those damn girls! She can't blame them, it was a beautiful day and they were just being animals. If anyone was to blame it was her, she should have built them a stone wall last year. Rubbing her eyes she stared over at Valerius, eye downcast as he met hers.

Scowl on his lips, he sighed reaching over to brush the hair out of her eyes, "It's not your fault. Your damn girls are too smart and strong for their own good." He grimaced as he picked a bit of mud from his braid, white shirt stained with mud and grape juices from helping shove the final heifer into the barn.

"I should have gone out to check the fence this morning."

"Yes you should have." Leaning over to kiss her sweaty cheek. "But then it would have made for a very boring day."

Snorting she rolled her eyes, "Well boring, but we would still be making money."

"It's not about money, love. We can make money anytime, this makes for a amazing memory."

Standing up, she stood over placing a leg on either side of his lap before sitting down. "Well listen to you, my beloved husband. I feel like our roles are reversing, shall I go up to your study and finish your work for you? I don't think I am fit to call myself your feral witch any longer."

Gripping her hips he dropped a kiss to her chest, "Never. You have brought out the best in me ever since I placed that ring on your finger." He leaned up locking eyes with hers, slowly bringing her down for a kiss. Tongues dancing, as she sank into his embrace with a soft sigh.

"SNACKS!"

The two of them nearly jumping out of the seat, turned to see Mabel walking towards the pair, smirk playing on her lips as Alaric rushed forwards with a large serving plate. On the plate was a stack of small sandwiches, fresh salad, and a small pile of bite sized fudge. Taking the plate Lactarius slid off her husband's lap to set it on the small wooden table, picking up Alaric to set in her lap. Gannen making an appearance as he sat on the edge of the wall, long tail swishing as he opened his jaw yawning. Mabel setting down a pitcher of fresh lemonade, serving it to the family before turning to leave, "While you two were out here playing round up, your boy was very helpful in the kitchen. He even helped make the sandwiches."

Lactarius hugged him tight blowing rasberries on his cheek, "Did you now?! What a helpful boy!"

Giggling Alaric picked up a sandwich chewing it and Valerius shook his head smiling, reaching over to take a sandwich for himself. Looking at his wife and son enjoying their snack, he looked over their estate and over to the fence as the guards repaired the last woodent structure under the confused stares of the cattle from their windows in the barn. Onyx and Isadora both trotting alongside each other in the evening sun in their pasture, heads thrown back, and Onyx kicking his heels. Despite the chaos and damages caused that day, many years later Valerius still held it as one of his fondest memories.

#the arcana #the arcana valerius #consul valerius #the arcana lactarius #lactarius

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 6 years ago

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Lena the Totem-bearer

Lena stumbles across the totem by accident. She has her ear to the ground for any black market kryptonite sales, and she snipes it out from under another bidder. When she goes to verify its authenticity, she knows its a fake without even touching it. But even so... it captivates her.

In exchange for not spreading word his attempted deception through the community, the seller gifts the stone to her free of charge. Tests reveal that it belongs to the emerald family, and that it's old. Older than written history. It's edges are jagged and its chain is so rusted it nearly falls apart in her hands. The gem is flawed beyond value, but even so it shines like the most priceless of jewels.

Lena commissions a custom setting and chain for it. The silver base covers the rough edges and it hangs from a wide snake chain to rest against her sternum. And there it lives. She wears it every day for a week before it occurs to that she should shake it up. Swapping it out for a simple string of pearls makes her feel out of sorts the entire day.

After that, she simply doesn't bother with variety. Lena feels powerful wearing it-- confident, and self-assured. But correlation doesn't equal causation, and she thinks nothing of it. She also doesn't notice that her office plants slowly begin to recover from her lack of care-- when she does, its only because one of the spider plants has grown a tendril long enough to tickle the bare skin of her arm.

Lena assumes Jess has started watering them, and that coupled with a few weeks of sunny conditions must be the reason for the growth spurt. She trims it back, and doesn't give it a second thought.

The first thing that strikes her as odd is the day she meets Kara in the park for lunch. Kara runs late, and Lena waits on her back in the grass, basking in a rare moment of inactivity. Kara's eventual arrival is announced by the artificial shutter snap of a smartphone camera.

She cracks open one eye to squint up at her friend. "Seriously? You keep me waiting only to sneak a photo of me?"

Kara is utterly unapologetic. "What did you expect would happen when you decided to lay down in all those pretty flowers?"

"What?"

Lena props herself up on her elbows and scans the grass around her. Sure enough, the lawn around her is peppered with a variety of wildflowers: buttercups and daisies and bluebells all clustered around her.

"I-- didn't notice..."

She should have. And it's weird that she didn't. After that, it's like Lena's eyes are open for the first time. She finally notices that leaves seem greener when she brushes her fingers over them. Her office plants flower for the first time-- out of season. Jess confirms she hasn't touched any of the plants during her entire tenure.

((more under the cut))

But the fear doesn't set in for another two weeks. One Tuesday morning she wakes up with her heart in her throat. She feels queasy and nauseous and her skin feels like it's about to crawl off her bones. Everything is just wrong, wrong, wrong and she's nearly in tears by the time lunch rolls around.

Kara notices the moment their eyes meet at the designated cafe, but before she can say a word the world starts to shake. It feels like a train speeding by, rattling the utensils and glasses atop their metal bistro table. Then the thunder hits.

The grounds bucks violently beneath them, throwing Lena from her chair. Kara catches her and holds her close. Lena clamps her hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting. She focuses on the sound of Kara's heartbeat and clutches her necklace in her free hand.

The second it stops, Lena feels better. Better than better. Her arms and legs feel light, as if she'd woken from the most restful nap of her life. It comes as such as a relief that she nearly laughs, even when she takes in the sight of the deep crevice that cracks the street open, exposing strata of pavement and dirt and rock, and swallows half a dozen cars just on their block.

That night, Lena buys an african violet from a flower stand and brings it home with her. With one hand on her pendant, she sits on her couch and stares at the plant sitting ignominously on her coffee table.

It's a young plant-- it's mostly leaves and a few tightly budded flowers. She stares and stares for over an hour before she bites the bullet and reaches for her phone.

"Preliminary Test Number 1. The date is Tuesday, June 3rd, time-- 1630hrs Pacific Standard. Subject is a potted African Violet, procured from Natalie's Flowers on 6th and East. Plant is comprised of six leaves-- green, ranging from one to two-and-a-half inches in size-- and two buds. Soil is dark, and--"

Lena reaches out to touch her fingers to the dirt filling the small terra cotta pot. In an instant, her tongue turns gritty, and she swallows with a dry throat.

"Soil is dry to the touch," she finishes, clearing her throat with a cough. "The buds are roughly pea-size and--"

Her voice fails her when the tightly budded flowers start to swell. Like a timelapse video the buds grow and then expand, revealing perfectly formed petals cast in a deep, gorgeous purple.

Lena shuts off her voice recorder without another word. She sits there, silently, staring at this beautiful traitor of natural order as though it could somehow explain its own existence to her.

It doesn't.

At a loss to do anything else, and unwilling to learn anything more, Lena goes to bed-- but not before moistening the soil of her troublesome new house guest.

"I think I caused the earthquake."

A week later, Lena invites Kara over to share a bottle of wine. The words fall out of her all too easily. She watches Kara's eyes widen, then crinkle in mirthful confusion when she realizes Lena isn't joking.

"Lena!" she chides, giggling. "Come on, don't do that to yourself."

"I'm not being--" Lena cuts herself off, knowing that denying melodrama would only confirm it. So instead, she climbs to her feet and starts walking to her guest room.

Kara pops up after her. "Lena, I didn't mean-- what's-- whoa."

She falls quiet at the sight of the garden that's bloomed in her spare room. That same small african violet she'd first brought home now spans over a dozen clay pots, and has been joined by peace lilies and ivies and succulents and orchids. The room bursts with life, and Lena can't help but feel a certain affection for them all.

"Lena...? Did you get tired of paying for flowers? Decided to start growing your own?"

Maybe it's the wine going to her head, or the trust she has in Kara, but Lena's answer is to simply extend her hand. The nearest tendril of ivy curls upwards, and tangles gently around her fingers.

"Ho-okay. Okay, that's-- that's new. That's new, right?"

Lena touches her pendant again. "Since I got this."

"Right. Okay. Okay, okay, so-- you've tested it? And-- wait. Plants. These are just plants. Plants don't cause earthquakes!"

And so Lena explains her distress that morning, how she'd been so close to losing her mind before the quake hit. How sweet the relief had been when it passed.

"It's like I knew it was coming, Kara. I didn't know what, until it was over. But I did."

Kara doesn't laugh. She chews her lip, and her gaze turns thoughtful. Then she sighs. "You need to tell Supergirl. She might have an idea where it came from-- or what it can do."

Lena gulps. "Okay."

"In the meantime-- don't wear it."

Explaining to Supergirl is different than explaining to Kara. Lena feels guilty and off-kilter-- she wonders if it's because the necklace sits in a velveteen box instead of around her neck.

"I've seen something like this before," Supergirl says finally. She's touched and examined the pendant-- the temperature and luminosity changes that Lena's recorded when she touches it don't happen Supergirl handles it. It remains dormant under the hero's touch, and Lena gets a little thrill in knowing it likes her better.

"You say you sensed the recent earthquake? Before it hit?"

Lena nods.

"Were you able to control the severity or path of the shockwave?"

"No. Nothing like that. This... it's something that happens. I didn't mean to do any of it."

Supergirl nods solemnly. "I have friends, who work with artifacts similar to these. I'd like to get their opinion on this."

"Don't take it." Lena's heart clenches in her chest, and she clutches the velvet box tightly.

A smile answers her. "I don't believe it's dangerous. I think I can bring my friends here, rather than taking it to them."

Lena sighs in relief. "Thank you." It's not an addiction, her connection to this necklace. It feels like an extension of herself, and the idea of parting with it makes her skin crawl. "And-- it's safe to wear?"

"I believe so. But if you sense another earthquake coming...?"

"Yes?"

"Do me a favor and warn Miss Danvers. She'll be able to get a warning to me."

Lena smiles. "That I can do."

Lena senses their the moment they land in National City. Not that she knows what it is when she feels it. One moment she's doing paperwork alone in her office, and the next, her pendant warms against her chest, filling her with the sense of another presence. It's almost as though someone is watching over her shoulder, but without the creepy vibe.

Supergirl's arrival on her balcony almost an hour later comes as no surprise.

"Do you have a moment, Miss Luthor? I have some friends very eager to meet you."

The flight is a short one, and as they near an empty helipad Lena spots three women waiting for them. The blonde in the middle is clearly the leader, exuding authority and capability simply in the way she carries herself. But it's the two to either side who catch Lena's eye.

Supergirl sets her down gently. Before Lena can get two steps towards their visitors she feels a tingle and a jolt and suddenly every one of her senses flares to life-- her vision turns white and her ears roar and her nose fills with the scent of the earth and the brush of soft flower petals caresses her skin.

In the pale landscape that spreads before her, two figures come into focus-- the two women who'd been waiting on the helipad. As soon as she recognizes them the rest of the world snaps back into place. Lena reflexively lifts her hand to her pendant, and feels it thrumming with warmth against her fingers.

Across the tarmac, the two women mirror her movements, touching their own necklaces with equal reverance. Lena echoes their soft, shared smile.

Their captain steps forward with a satisfied quirk of her eyebrow.

"Let’s talk."

#i wrote dis #lena and the legends #lena luthor headcanon #lena the totem bearer #earth totem #lena luthor #kara danvers #supergirl #legends of tomorrow #totems bring them all together #written on the fly #pls forgive any mistakes

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