#bellflowers ear

[cyromew-blog]

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[bronwynangelawhite]

Ring a bell?

[rosieofcorona]

In the Blue Morning

Sharing this gentle little fic here again since the Solavellan girlies (genderless) are so back!!! In my mind I am sliding this across the table to you all. Also on Ao3, if you prefer. As always, thank you for reading! 💕

She cajoles him, some mornings, away from his office, from his maps and his books and his paintings and out among the newly-planted gardens, all their tight, unfurling blooms. 

It’s always empty at this hour, when most of Skyhold is still asleep, save for the guards in their high towers, the recruits in the practice yard. The only sound is the clang of their swords through the mist like distant bells, the only light the pink and gold of the nascent sun.

They have been careful, desperately careful not to draw undue attention, not to generate rumors that could harm the Inquisition in the future. It is easier on the road to find a quiet moment alone– to steal a kiss or hold a hand or put words to their love– but the castle, however safe, is full of eyes, forever watching.

It is only in the narrow, muted hours before dawn that Solas weaves his fingers with hers as they orbit the courtyard, side by side.

He names the blossoms as they pass, first in the trade tongue and then in Elvish, the softened syllables like music on his tongue. She repeats them half as gracefully, but he smiles at every attempt, correcting her gently now and again, praising her efforts.

“Gail’lealis,” he says, pointing out an elegant bellflower, its blue-white petals bundled tightly in green sepals.

It sounds off, even to her ear, when she says, “ Ga’lealis,” back.

They pause for a moment, and Solas turns and bends and plucks an early bloom from the same plant, rotating it slowly between his fingers, holding it up for examination. 

“Ga-il,” he repeats softly, separating the sounds. “Meaning ‘bell,’ in the common parlance.” 

“Ga-il,” she says again, correctly this time. 

“Followed by lealis , meaning ‘glass.’”

“Gail’lealis.”

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, tucking the flower behind her ear, the meaning vague yet all-encompassing. It is all beautiful– the morning, the garden, how she catches the light, his ancient language in her mouth, her mouth– 

Solas kisses her in the empty courtyard, parts her lips with a linguist’s tongue, and she kisses him back again and again as if each time might be the last. He wants to stay like this forever, wants the sun to forget to rise, wants the castle to sleep and sleep in an endless dream.

But the light keeps coming, every moment. The castle will wake, and they will see. 

And this will cost them, in the end. 

She is pink as the sky when they finally come apart, and continue their long walk around. 

“I hear you were out here yesterday,” she says, breaking the silence as they turn a corner. “Cullen says you beat him soundly at chess.” 

“It was a closer game than he thinks,” Solas says, but she has learned when he’s just being modest.

“Must not have been that close, because Bull says the same. As do Blackwall, and Varric, and Dorian, though he swears that you cheated.”  “I did no such thing!” 

When they turn again, the chessboard in question comes into full view, set and waiting on its table beneath an awning. 

“He seemed very certain,” she shrugs. “Though I suppose I could find out for myself.”

They stop again before the table, and Solas looks at her intently.  “Is that a challenge, dear Inquisitor?”

“That depends on your level of skill.”

She’s teasing him now, enticing him, a dynamic he’s come to enjoy. There are so few who impress him with thoughtfulness, who make him work at being clever.

“Very well, but you should know that I am merciless,” he warns, a contradiction to the chivalry of pulling out her chair. “Even to one I love.”

He takes the seat opposite her, the board and the pieces adorned in glittering dew. 

“I believe the Lady Inquisitor moves first.”

He sets a dozen little traps for her, a dozen clever gambits, and she evades them every time, to his astonishment. Where he moves to attack, she counters; where he baits her, she defends or retreats. By the end, with the sun fully risen overhead, they reach a deadlock, both depleted, neither victorious.

“Again?” She asks cheerfully, when they’ve finished. Already she is freeing her captives from his end of the table. “Don’t look so stunned, my love. Unless you’re trying to offend me.”

“Forgive me, vhenan,” he says, shaking his head. “You surprise me as always. It is rare to find an opponent so…discerning.” 

His beloved laughs with the morning breeze, a sound like air that surrounds and envelops him. 

“Rare to find one you can’t beat, you mean.” 

She’s right, of course– it is rare that he loses, even rarer that he plays against someone so evenly matched. He still can’t quite puzzle through it, where he went wrong, where she figured him out. 

He had gotten a lead on her early on, or so he thought– he had taken a tower, a mage, and two pawns– and left his queen open for the taking, which she had entirely ignored. She caught onto him quickly, though too late to win, and when she realized she couldn’t beat him, she had blocked him instead. 

Solas leans thoughtfully back in his chair, replaying their game in his mind. No matter how he tries to beat her, he finds no way through. She sees his scheming, sees him coming, cuts him off. 

“Why did you not take my queen, given the chance?”

“Because you gave me the chance,” she reasons. “You wouldn’t do that except to win.” 

“It could have been a tactical error.”  “It wasn’t,” she says assuredly, resetting the pieces along their battle lines. “If I had taken her, it would have left my king undefended from your mages.”  “You could have moved him.”  “For a turn or two. Then your knight would have circled back. Isn’t that right?” She looks up at Solas, her eyes smiling and sharp, affirmed in her answer already. “Or shall we call that a ‘tactical error?’”

“Mm,” Solas nods his approval. “You’ve become quite the strategist. Have you been spending time with our Commander?”

“I’ve been spending time with you,” she counters. “Learning all your little tricks.”

Not all, it occurs to him, but Solas smothers the thought with a laugh. “It seems to me you have a few of your own.” 

“Our Keeper used to call me harellan,” she tells him. “Trickster. Though I needn’t explain that to you.”

He fights to keep the easy expression on his face, feeling suddenly caught in the snare of her gaze, as if she sees directly through him, sees him fully, all he is.

Harellan, his mind echoes. How could she know?

The wait for her judgment feels infinite, inevitable– but it does not come, and does not come, and does not come. She only moves a white pawn toward the board’s center, the leaves rustling softly around them. 

No, he decides. She does not know. She only means he knows the word. 

Solas mirrors her opening move, their pawns face to face on the battlefield. “And still, your Keeper named you her First.” 

“I was more troublesome as a child,” she says, with a grin that implies that the mischief has never left her. “I’ve settled down a great deal since. Can’t you tell?”

This time, when Solas laughs, there is nothing else hiding beneath it. No uneasy feeling, no great fear that she will discover him, cast him out. There is only happiness for a moment, the war reduced to a board between them, as if sorrow and death are nowhere, and the end of the world is far away.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [26] - Bellflower

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: It can be tricky to deal with insecurities.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of violence, slow burn.

Word Count: 4400

Series Masterlist

This was such a beautiful morning.

You woke up quite early, still feeling giddy after last night. It seemed to be one of those days where you just knew it would go well even from the beginning of it, which was quite surprising because it was becoming more and more of a usual mood for you, contrary to how you used to wake up before.

“You seem rather happy,” Paula commented as she finished your hair.  “Have you had nice dreams?”

“Something like that,” you said as you put on your earrings. “How about you? How was your night?”

“Uneventful I’m afraid,” she said but before you could reply, the knock on the door made both of you turn your heads.

“Yes?” you called out and the door opened, your heart skipping a beat as soon as you saw who it was.

“Good morning,” Benedict greeted you from the doorway and you felt a smile warm your face.

“Good morning to you too,” you said, standing up from your chair in front of the vanity, “Come in please. Paula you may leave us, thank you.”

Paula left the room and Benedict stepped inside, the four-leaf clover peeking from the front pocket of his waistcoat catching your attention immediately. Your smile widened when you noticed that he was holding something behind his back and you tilted your head.

“What’s that?”

“For my beautiful wife,” he said with a grin and held out a bouquet of flowers, making you let out a gasp.

“Oh my God!” you said and took the flowers from him, nibbling on your lip. “Thank you!”

“Likewise,” he said, motioning at the clover and you looked down at the bouquet that was not tied together by any kind of ribbon yet carefully cut and placed together, then up at him.

“Are these from our garden?”

“Mm hm, and Mr. Binsted has been a great help.”

You hummed, taking a look at the stems. “Thankfully,” you said with a teasing smirk. “I doubt you know where to cut the stems.”

“Yeah see, I was planning on just ripping them—”

“Don’t you dare!” you exclaimed, holding the flowers to your chest as if protecting them and Benedict chuckled.

“Then I remembered you have a knife so…”

“Two knives.”

“Ah yes, I stand corrected.”

You buried your nose into the flowers to take a deep breath, then raised your head.

“So I take it you’ve been to your studio already?”

“Mm hm, first thing in the morning. Painted a little.”

“Oh that’s wonderful!”

He shrugged his shoulders and heaved a sigh.

“I don’t know if it will turn out wonderful but…” he trailed off and you thought for a moment.

“You know, if you need help painting roses, I could help you,” you said with an air of exaggerated arrogance, making him let out a laugh.

“Oh really?”

“Mm hm. To share my rare gift and everything.”

“Much appreciated,” he said, that playful glimmer shining in his blue eyes and you nodded in a solemn manner.

“Talent only grows when it’s shared,” you said, walking past him to step out of the room into the hallway, still holding the flowers to your chest as he followed you out of the room. “Everyone knows that.”

“Well—” he started but was cut off when a very familiar and excited voice rang through the hallway.

“Y/N?” Teddy called out. “Can I see my gift now?”

You and Benedict exchanged confused glances before your aunt’s voice reached you as well.

“Teddy!”

“What on…?” you muttered as the butler entered your sight.

“Ma’am, your aunt and your brother—” he started but Teddy wheezed past him, running to you at full speed to crash into you.

“Thank you,” you told the butler with a laugh before handing him the flowers and asked him to put them in the water, then crouched down to wrap your arms around Teddy.

“Good morning,” you said, pulling back to see him better. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Where’s my gift?”

You hummed, tilting your head. “What gift?”

“You said—Benedict!” Teddy exclaimed, looking up at him as if asking for his help and Benedict chuckled.

“Don’t mind her Teddy, you definitely have a gift in the house as we speak.”

“Can I see it now?”

“Good morning to you both,” your aunt said and Benedict bowed.

“Good morning Lady Thorne.”

“My apologies for the intrusion and the very early hour.”

“Oh no,” you said, shaking your head fervently. “Please. You are always welcome here, so is Teddy.”

“I have this urgent meeting with Lady Wesley for the ball she’s planning to throw and all the Social Picnic Club is invited.”

“Social Picnic Club?” Benedict asked and you raised your brows.

“Think of it like a mini parliament among the ladies,” you said helpfully. “Actually, I take it back. I’m sure the actual parliament has fewer requirements to become a part of it.”

“It’s not so bad,” your aunt defended herself. “It’s a great honor, and when the time comes—”

“I will absolutely not be a part of it auntie, we’ve had this conversation before.”

“Anyway,” your aunt said while Benedict tried to repress his chuckle. “Teddy insisted that we visited you two on our way there.”

“For my gift!”

“And here I thought you missed me.”

“I did miss you!” Teddy said and you ruffled his hair, then turned to your aunt.

“Can he stay here while you have your meeting?”

Teddy gasped and looked up at your aunt. “Can I please, auntie?”

“Oh of course,” she said and turned to you and Benedict. “Are you two sure?”

“Absolutely!”

“We’d love to,” Benedict said. “And Teddy’s gift is going to take some time, so it’s even better.”

Teddy giggled and your aunt smiled at you.

“Very well then,” she said. “Teddy my dearest, we’re going to be on our best behavior hm?”

Teddy nodded fervently. “Yes.”

“I will be back in two hours tops.”

“Take your time,” you said and she kissed you, then bid you and Benedict goodbye and walked away from you. Teddy looked up at you, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Can I see my gift now please?”

“Did you eat yet?”

“I did, eggs and toast and jam,” he said impatiently, and turned to Benedict. “Can I see my gift?”

Benedict winked at you, then hoisted Teddy up to place him over his shoulders, making him let out an excited laugh that echoed through the hallway as you took a step towards him immediately.

“Benedict—”

“Yes?”

“Be careful,” you said and looked at Teddy. “Uh, Teddy maybe you should—”

“No!” Teddy cut you off. “It’s fun!”

“It’s just that,” you told Benedict, “You’re very tall so if you drop him he could get hurt—”

“I won’t drop him, don’t worry.”

“Y/N it’s fun!” Teddy insisted, his eyes shining with excitement and you heaved a sigh, then held up your hands.

“Alright then.”

“Ready to go?” Benedict asked and Teddy giggled.

“Yes!” he said and Benedict started walking to the studio with Teddy still giggling, and you shook your head slightly, then followed them with a smile on your face.

                                              *

You asked the maids to bring a vase, some soil and the little bag of geranium seeds that Benedict had gifted you earlier. Since you did not hold any artistic talent or anything of the sort, you figured you could spend time with them by doing what you had wanted for a long time.

Digging your fingers into some soil and planting flowers.

Teddy looked like he was having the time of his life. Benedict was teaching him how to make the clay before they would model it around the simple figures made out of wires. He was listening to everything Benedict was saying, his whole attention on him, his tongue sticking out a little from the corner of his mouth as he tried to mimic what Benedict was doing.

You knew you were supposed to focus on your own work but it was a bit difficult when Benedict was sitting not far from you on the floor with his sleeves rolled up, letting you steal glances at his strong arms.

“And then we’re going to mix it, alright? Put some water in,” he instructed him and Teddy poured a little water into the mixture, looking up at him as if hoping for his approval and Benedict smiled, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Very nice, see? You’re going to be the next Donatello at this rate.”

Teddy nodded with a proud grin and you tilted your head.

“Do you know who Donatello is, Teddy?” you asked as you put some soil into the vase, sitting on the floor with your legs tucked underneath you. Teddy thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“No,” he said, turning to look at Benedict. “Who is he?”

“He was this incredibly talented sculptor,” Benedict said as he checked out the clay Teddy was mixing, “He was born in Italy, and he worked really really hard to be a sculptor, and now his works are everywhere, just like yours will be one day.”

Teddy giggled, the happy sound making you smile.

“Can I see his works?” Teddy asked and Benedict nodded.

“How about your sister and I take you to Italy one day so that you can see his sculptures?”

He gasped and nodded fervently. “Yes please!” he said. “When did he—when did he make his sculptures?”

“Oh so so many years ago,” Benedict said. “Like five hundred years ago.”

Teddy’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“Mm hm.”

“And we can see them now?”

Benedict nodded with a grin, obviously happy with Teddy’s curiosity and excitement.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Because that’s what art does. It lasts for centuries and centuries, so that people can see it forever.”

“If I become a sculptor,” Teddy said. “Will people see my works as well? Five—five hundred years in the future?”

“They will,” Benedict said. “And they will admire all your works.”

Teddy turned to you, excitement shining in his eyes.

“Y/N, did you hear?”

“Mm hm,” you said with a grin. “That’s wonderful isn’t it?”

“It is!”

“Alright future artist,” Benedict said. “Are you ready for the next stage?”

“Yes!”

“We will put this clay around these wires, hm? So that we can have the shape we will follow and then work on it.”

Teddy nodded and got to it immediately, and you carefully put the seeds into the soil, pressing with your fingers.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join?” Benedict asked and you looked up from the vase, then grinned at him.

“Oh I think I’ll let the artists cover the art front,” you said. “I’m fine over here.”

“So wait,” Teddy said as he worked on putting the clay over the wire model. “Will people see your paintings five hundred years from now as well?”

“They will,” you said before Benedict could even answer and he gave you a smile before turning to Teddy.

“Your sister says so.”

“Will they see that painting?” Teddy asked, pointing at the half-finished landscape on one of the canvases and Benedict shook his head, then pointed at the covered painting at the corner.

“That one.”

“What’s on it?”

Benedict grinned and nodded in your direction, making Teddy gasp.

“Y/N?”

“Mm hm. Her portrait, or at least it will be once it’s finished.”

“I’m very excited for that one,” you commented and Teddy shifted his weight.

“It’s for future people?”

Benedict nodded and turned his gaze to you to smile at you softly.

“So that people will get to see what true beauty looks like even after five hundred years.”

You could swear your cheeks were on fire but you narrowed your eyes at him playfully, then made a face at him, making him laugh.

“That’s exactly how your portrait will look,” he told you and you gasped.

“No it will not!” you protested and poured some water on the soil. After making sure it was damp enough, you pulled your hands back, very much aware of the smile on your face.

“Too bad those flowers won’t last five hundred years,” Teddy commented and you shrugged your shoulders.

“No they won’t,” you said. “But they’ll be beautiful either way.”

                                                *

Towards the afternoon your aunt came to get Teddy, and you spent the most of the day reading but when the night fell, you and Benedict decided to go to a party.  It had been a while since you last did that, and you always had such fun in them so you were rather excited.

It was only when you were in the carriage that you had asked where the party was and to hear the answer “Lady Margery’s” was less than ideal, but it wasn’t as if you could tell Benedict to turn the carriage around and go back home so you had tried not to let it affect your mood or your expression.

Lady Margery’s house was very impressive. It was surrounded by a huge garden full of different flowers on the outside, and the inside was full of artworks adorning the walls of many hallways leading to various rooms with different types of entertainment.

“Do you think Felix will be here?” you asked Benedict and he shook his head.

“I think I heard him say he had plans with—” he paused for a second, then turned to you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“So Andrew and Josie,” he said, making you look up at him.

“Yes?”

“Andrew and Josie are married right?”

You tried to control the grin threatening to curl your lips. “Yeah they eloped. Got married in Gretna Green, Bess was there as well.”

“Right,” he said. “And uh…Josie and Bess seem very close.”

You had to bite at your lips, feigning innocence. “Yes they’re best friends.”

“They are—” Benedict swallowed thickly. “They seem to be very close best friends.”

You tilted your head, blinking up at him in a completely naïve manner. “Yes. Your point being?”

“Nothing at all,” Benedict said. “I was just wondering if they were—best friends.”

“They are,” you said. “They’re such best friends that most of the time they share a bed.”

Benedict raised his brows. “Oh?”

“Uh huh.”

“And when—when that happens, where is Andrew exactly?”

“Probably finding his own best friend to share a bed with,” you said, now letting a grin split your face. “It seems like his best friend might be Felix nowadays.”

Benedict gasped, looking at you in complete shock. “You did this on purpose!”

“The look on your face—how naïve do you take me for, honestly?” you asked with a laugh. “Do you think I wouldn’t be able to notice my sister being with her lover?”

Benedict shook his head, pointing at you. “Diabolical.”

“I seem to like seeing you beat around the bush, that was rather adorable,” you said, still giggling and he shot you a playful look.

“So you knew all along?”

“Of course I did,” you said. “I was there when they planned it—Benedict, if you so much as utter a word of this—”

“You know me better than that,” he said and you smiled at him.

“I do,” you admitted. “But anyway, yes. It’s an arrangement where everyone is happy, and you can’t say that for many marriages in the ton.”

Benedict thought for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose?”

“Well well, isn’t this Adonis and Venus?” a teasing voice reached you and you turned to see Henry grinning at you. “Welcome.”

“Oh hello Henry,” you said. “Is Lucy here?”

“She’s…occupied at the moment,” Henry said before grinning at Benedict. “I may have a surprise for you.”

Benedict tilted his head. “What surprise?”

“One of my friends is coming to London,” Henry said. “Sometime this month, but considering how impulsive he is, it could be within the week as well. And it is someone I think you would love to meet.”

“Who?”

“Lord Easton.”

Benedict’s eyes widened and you looked between them. “Who’s Lord Easton?”

“He’s one of my absolute heroes in art,” Benedict said, still gawking at Henry. “Are you serious?”

“Mm hm. I did tell him I had a very promising artist he should meet.”

“Henry!” Benedict hissed. “You can’t tell him that, I don’t even…I’m not even applying for the Academy this year, and my paintings are not even close to be ready, let alone to be seen by—”

“They’re good, Ben,” Henry said and you squeezed at his arm in an assuring manner.

“You’ll be fine.”

“No no, Easton is a genius,” Benedict said and Henry shot you a grin.

“I don’t know if I should be offended about the fact that I’m not his hero in art.”

“One can have multiple heroes,” you teased him but before Henry could joke back, you heard a silky voice.

“Welcome to the party.”

You looked over your shoulder, then turned around to see Lady Margery better and Benedict and Henry bowed their heads. There was no wonder why she had so many admirers as Lucy had informed you earlier, she really was breathtaking. Her nonchalant smile fit the gleam in her eyes perfectly as she stole a look at them, then turned to you.

“We meet at last,” she said. “Mrs. Bridgerton, I’ve heard so much about you.”

You smiled back. “Likewise.”

“I hope you won’t mind that I’m stealing her Benedict for drinks,” she grinned at him and you arched a brow at the first name basis. “We’ll be back, excuse us gentlemen.”

She linked her arm through yours and gently led you away from them so that you could pass through the hallway, and you looked around at the paintings hanging on the walls.

“You have a lovely home,” you said and she turned to see what you were looking at, then waved a hand in the air.

“Thank you,” she said. “It took me a while to get rid of all my late husband’s belongings and it included a lot of portraits of him and his family, but now there are finally paintings I enjoy looking at.”

You blinked a couple of times, then followed her into the room where there was a long counter with two footmen making drinks. It was such an unfamiliar sight that for a moment you just stared at them, then remembered to turn to her.

“My condolences for your late husband.”

She scoffed a laugh and motioned at a footman who quickly grabbed two glasses of drinks to bring you.

“No need for any condolences,” she said. “I’ve always dreamed of being a widow.”

Dear God, she really was what you had hoped to be before getting married to Benedict.

She clinked her glass with yours and took a sip, urging you to do the same. You could feel the drink burn your throat, but you cleared your throat and smiled up at her.

“Well then congratulations on getting what you dreamed of.”

“Why thank you,” she said. “I find the idea of marriage quite absurd if you ask me, especially within the ton. It’s the worst prison to be.”

“Not for everyone,” the words left your lips before you had any chance to stop them and she tilted her head.

“Oh obviously,” she said. “Benedict and you are the exception, Henry says so. Did you like the geraniums?”

Your eyes shot up to hers and you paused for a moment. It was almost like looking in the mirror, Margery was so good at keeping her cards up to her chest that you could not tell whether she was being friendly or not.

If it were a couple of months ago, she would have been your absolute hero in life, but now…

“Ben says you told him where to get those seeds,” you said and she nodded her head.

“Well I’m glad they worked,” she said. “Though I don’t believe in love, it’s quite pleasant to see the couples that do.”

“And what do you believe in?” you asked and she shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m a bit of a…hedonist I suppose,” she said. “What we call love is merely a name to cover what we truly desire. I don’t believe love lasts, so we should get all the pleasure we can get from this short life.”

Well it was no wonder why she and Benedict got along well. Though Benedict believed in love, his whole life had been nothing but a hedonistic existence up until very recently.

“And when I said that to Henry, he said I sounded like Lord Easton,” she said with a laugh and your brows furrowed. “Can you believe that? All this time, I’ve been unknowingly leading my life according to the ideals of my most favorite artist.”  

Oh.

Alright then.

The insecurity crashed over you so fast that for a moment you couldn’t even understand why your mood had changed. Lady Margery was everything you had wanted to be before getting married and you had a feeling that she was also what Benedict had wanted -and perhaps still did- in a partner. She was gorgeous, carefree, mysterious and well educated, she knew all about art and apparently they even had the same favorite artist.

And to make things even worse, she wasn’t even trying.

“Sir Granville says Lord Easton will be in London in a month or so,” you managed to say and she nodded.

“Oh yes I’ve heard. I’m rather excited to meet him—” she started but was cut off when someone called out her name, making her look at the person.

“The duty of a hostess even during a party,” she muttered and turned to you. “Will you excuse me please?”

“Of course,” you said and watched her walk away before letting out a breath, that heavy feeling still at the bottom of your stomach. You downed your drink, then put the empty glass on the nearest tray and made your way out of the room.

Everyone seemed to have fun, laughter and chatter echoing even in the hallway as you passed through it, then stepped outside. The chill weather was like a balm to your burning face, and you took a deep breath, then made your way down the stone road to approach the nearest bench to sit down.

It wasn’t even her fault. By all means, Margery sounded like someone you would be such good friends with, if you could extinguish this fire of envy in your heart and you knew it was nonsense, and yet…

You groaned and leaned down to bury your face into your forearms, taking deep breaths. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, but soon enough your ears pricked up at the sound of footsteps coming closer to stop in front of you.

You pulled out your knife and flicked it with one hand without even lifting your head.

“Walk away.”

“I thought you changed your mind about being a widow,” Benedict replied and your head shot up, and you tucked the knife back into its place before putting it back into your cleavage.

“Hello.”

“Hello there, potential murderer,” he teased you. “Is everything alright?”

You nodded your head, then stood up from the bench. “Sure. What are you doing here?”

“I saw you out of the window.”

“Ah,” you said. “Yeah I’m alright. I just felt like getting some fresh air, so…”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded again and took a step to walk past him but he caught your hand before you could walk away, your name leaving his lips again. You stopped dead in your tracks, sparks of excitement rushing through your veins before you bit down on your lip, then laced your fingers through his, your heart doing a happy flip. You could swear the simple gesture made his breath hitch and you stepped closer to him to rest your forehead against his hard chest, standing there completely still like a statue. His pleasant scent filled your nostrils, making you take a deep breath as discreetly as you could.  

“Hey,” Benedict said, his deep murmur vibrating in his chest. “What is it?”

You shrugged your shoulders without pulling back.

“Can we stay like this for a moment please?”

Benedict’s voice was soft; “We can stay like this for as long as you want.”

You nodded against his chest, and he dragged his fingertips up your spine to cradle the back of your head, probably messing up your carefully coiffed updo but you couldn’t care less. You closed your eyes as he nuzzled to the top of your head, burying his nose into your hair.

“What is it?” he murmured, his thumb caressing the soft skin of your hand and you swallowed thickly.

“Inside my head is not peaceful I guess,” you said. “It happens sometimes.”

“Do you want to go back home?”

“No,” you muttered. “I just…it helps. You being here.”

“I’ll always be here,” he said, his words like the sweetest promise and you felt a smile pull at your lips.

“Ben?”

“Hm?”

“Can you say that nonsense thing that I don’t believe in?”

He paused for only a moment before a chuckle climbed up his throat, coaxing a smile from you as well. His fingertips stroked over the back of your neck, sending a fire down your spine, raising goosebumps on your skin.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair and heaved a sigh. “God, you have no idea how much I love you.”

You could almost feel your heart melting inside your chest and your smile widened, his words washing away that small insecure voice in your head. You squeezed at his hand, nudging at his chest with your nose before pulling back to look up at him. For a moment, you both stared at each other, your eyes locked in his, desire spreading through your veins like wildfire before you took a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together.

“Let’s go back inside,” you managed to say and he tilted his head to shoot you that lopsided grin, his eyes gleaming even under the moonlight as if he was amused.

“You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met, did you know that?”

You gave him a mischievous smile, then tugged at his hand and started walking with him following you.

“I have no idea what you speak of,” you said, your heart still pacing in your chest, excitement making you nearly giddy. “I’m quite simple if you ask me.”

Chapter 27

[tsunael]

If there's anyone out there that cares about flower language and symbolism like I do, I made an informal write-up some time ago about the in-game flowers (that you can put in your house) and the different symbolism that they can mean.

I only included the symbolism for the in-game colors and also their general meaning.

Also as a disclaimer these could be incorrect, have contrasting meanings, or have different meanings in different real-world cultures. White chrysanthemums (kiku) are usually a funeral flower in Japan for instance. (My Japanese professor once said they were a faux pas for her to receive in a bouquet!) So your mileage may vary!

Now with added sunflower.

This was simply a fun personal project I made for myself that I thought other people might enjoy as well! So here's a question to answer in the tags:

What flowers would your WoL have in their residence?

Arums (calla lily) 🔷magnificent beauty, feminine modesty

Brightlilies (easter lily) 🔷purity, refined beauty 🔷White: virginity, purity, majesty 🔷Pink: wealth and prosperity 🔷Red: warmth, desire 🔷Yellow: gaiety, falsehood, "I’m walking on air" 🔷Orange: hatred

Campanulas (bellflower) 🔷humility, constancy

Chrysanthemum   🔷cheerfulness, "You’re a wonderful friend" 🔷Red: I love you 🔷White: truth 🔷Yellow: slighted love

Cosmos 🔷harmony, peace, modesty, "the joys that love and life can bring", beautiful

Dahlias 🔷dignity, elegance

Daisies 🔷innocence, beauty

Lilies of the Valley 🔷return of happiness, sweetness, humility, purity

Oldrose 🔷Red: I love you, love, beauty, passion, romance 🔷Blue: mystery, attaining the impossible, love at first sight 🔷White: innocence and purity, "I am worthy of you", reverence 🔷Yellow: decrease of love, jealousy, friendship

Shroud Cherries (cherry blossom) 🔷spiritual beauty, a good education

Tulips 🔷perfect lover, fame 🔷Red: declaration of love, true love, eternal love, romantic love, "believe me" 🔷Yellow: hopeless love, unrequited love, brightness, sunshine 🔷White: ask for forgiveness, purity 🔷Purple: royalty

Hyacinths 🔷sports, games, rashness 🔷Purple: I am sorry, sorrow, "please forgive me" 🔷Red: play 🔷White: loveliness, "I’ll pray for you" 🔷Blue: constancy, sincerity 🔷Yellow: jealousy

Hydrangeas 🔷heartlessness, boastfulness, "You are cold"

Morning Glories 🔷love in vain, affection

Violas (violets) 🔷modesty, faithfulness 🔷Purple: daydreaming, "You occupy my thoughts" 🔷Blue: watchfulness, love 🔷White: candor, innocence 🔷Yellow: rural happiness

Byregotia (begonia?) 🔷Beware

Carnation 🔷fascination, love, distinction 🔷Red: "My heart aches for you", deep love, admiration 🔷White: sweet and lovely, innocence, pure love 🔷Yellow: "You have disappointed me", rejection, disdain 🔷Purple: capriciousness, changeable

Moth Orchid 🔷love, beauty, refinement, beautiful lady

Sweet Pea 🔷departure, good-bye, delicate pleasure, tender memory, blissful pleasure

Triteleia 🔷 They're a North American wildflower also called 'triplet lilies' or 'Ithuriel's spear' which is a reference to John Milton's epic English poem, Paradise Lost. It's about an angel sent by Gabriel to find Satan in the Garden of Eden. Satan, in the form of a toad, is introducing evil suggestions into the ear of Eve when Ithuriel pokes him with a spear. Satan then returns to his true form, "... for no falsehood can endure Touch of Celestial temper, but returns Of force to its own likeness."

So, I can't find any symbolism for this one. Would make a possibly good Halone/Ishgard reference if you wanted to read into it, though.

Sunflower 🔷 Haughtiness, respect, passionate love, adoration, radiance.

[labselkie]

one last drabble before the incident, i’m still emotional over what my dad did so sorry if that’s obvious in this one

edit 10/7, tweaked for lore reasons

Why don’t I hate her?

Agatha stood over a solemn, sleeping Marie. She barely slept herself, and since she had nothing to do, this was all that crossed her mind. It was sheer luck that she had an adequate guest room, although she had genuinely considered just locking the mutant in the basement.

Why can’t I hate her?

Marie laid on her stomach, clad only in a lacey nightgown reminiscent of a princess’s garb. Her head was turned and her ears were pressed into her pillow. Like all her clothes, the back dipped right below her shoulder blades, providing ample room for her wings. Goodness, those wings, Agatha could never express her admiration ever since she saw them for the first time. They were laid out on either side of Marie’s head, barely rising with each breath.

She’s weak, she’s small and frail and feeble, she hasn’t even done much to help. The fun’s over.

Marie proved her use, she did get some nice information on the Maximoffs, it was easier carving runes with someone else, but otherwise that was it.

Marie had brought some decorations to the small guest room: framed paintings of various water birds, a little vase of violet bellflowers, and some more trinkets here and there. She was infecting the witch’s home, sinking into the pores of her life with all the grace of honey.

Agatha took a step closer, her own dark robes barely making a sound. She leans down, putting her hands on the edge of the bed and tilting her head like a curious crow.

I could foil all of this. I could kill her, I could throw her onto the street or leave her at Wanda’s doorstep. Give that witch a present she’d never forget.

Amidst those thoughts, Agatha’s right hand rose, creeping over to the sleeping Marie. Nimble fingers gently brushed her hair away, revealing one of the small wings that acted as her ears. It flicked at the barest touch, and Agatha reeled back at the motion. She reaches back, but lets her hand trail down, further down past her neck and to the downy feathers that marked the beginning of her wings. When her fingers finally met their mark, Marie really stirred.

How pathetic.

A small whine escaped the mutant’s lips, the sound muffled by the pillow below her head. Agatha’s face twisted with a sickening expression of disgust for just a moment. All until she held down, her palm brushing across the soft feathers and smooth skin. It was like petting her rabbit, something sweet to distract her for just a little.

“Hmm.. Wha-“ Was all that was audible from the little lady. Agatha gave an amused smile, continuing those small strokes. She took a step closer, before cautiously sitting on the edge of the bed and turning to face the headboard.

She’s more like an animal than I thought.

Agatha wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, sitting at Marie’s side. She forgot the time she went in, all she knew was that dawn had to be creeping in soon.

Why don’t I hate her?

Is this love?

[l0velylecter]

If your requests are open... could you write headcanons of the cod boys with a fem s/o who loves flowers? Like everything she owns is a floral print, she grows her own flower garden, she usually wears long flowy floral print skirts, etc. Do you think they would ever surprise her with flowers? Or do that cliche but lovely thing where a man will pick a wildflower and put it in the women's hair. 💓 Sometimes I feel a little silly over how much I love flowers, I let out a little gasp ever time i see them. 💐

— the cod : mw ii men + s/o who loves flowers ! characters : simon ‘ghost’ riley, john ‘soap’ mactavish, alejandro vargas, captain john price, phillip graves, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick, rodolfo parra fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii tags : f!reader rating :  g for general , sfw!

01 | Knowing how lonely and anxious you get when he leaves for missions, Price decided to build you a garden, knowing it would take your mind off worrying. And it worked: by summer, the whole backyard was in full bloom, a reflection of Price's love and your devotion, seen in every petal. The sight of napping by one of the chairs with a book open by your lap or trousers stained with dirt from being knee-deep in a cluster of bellflowers, cottage pinks, and delphiniums is always something that Price looks forward to when he gets home. 

02 | When you told Soap how much you loved flowers, he went above and beyond to show you he remembers. You'd open the door to greet him home — and he'd have a bouquet in his hand, hoping that the pattern of roses, thistles, and bluebells would distract you from the broken nose he got on duty ( you still scolded him.) " Flower delivery for my bonnie lass !" He'd announce playfully, never failing to make you smile each time. And whenever you show him your new skirt or blouse, he'd be ready with a compliment, telling you dreamily how the floral pattern matches your eyes.

03 | You weren't surprised at how good Gaz was with plants, nurturing and gentle by nature: his softer traits tend to get overlooked because of his profession. But when he's home with you, helping you change the pot of your carnations, you can't help but melt at how gentle he's being. He's growing into a bigger mother hen than you when it comes to your flowers— " I think we should take the lads ( the pot of blue and purple lobelias) out for some sun, love." Making the best of his time home, the two of you would often garden and go hiking together, stopping by the trails to pick some violets on the way home. 04 | It's obvious from the beginning that Alejandro is a roses man. Romantic and down-right chivalrous, he always comes home with a bouquet of them: a cluster of classic, deep, red petals between his fingers. The colonel loves how sweet they smell on you, buying you attar oil from the market so you can thread it through your hair or pour some into the bath when you're both unwinding against the warm water. Infatuated with how beautiful roses look on you, Alejandro decided to gift you a simple, golden necklace with a rose pendant hanging from it. And you're more than happy to show it off around your neck. 05 | Too shy to approach you, Rodolfo started leaving flowers instead. He'd place the simple banquet of sunflowers in your office, always waiting from afar to watch you carry it back home from base with a smile on your lips. Eventually, he was caught and had to come clean. You were far from angry — if anything, you were in love. Even when you start dating, he still brings home sunflowers, a symbol of faith, loyalty, and adoration. His face burned when you decided to tuck one behind your ear. Plus, Rodolfo finds it endearing how you gasp every time he comes home with fresh flowers as if he hasn't been doing it forever now, chest physically aching from how cute you looked. 06 | When he's around you, Graves turns into a big softie. It's almost hilarious how quickly he switches from a lean, mean commander to a man who would re-paint your entire room with flowers just because you love them so much. You'd pick him up at the airport, and he'd be the one bringing a bouquet — " What kind of man doesn't bring home flowers for his girl, hm?" And on the mornings when you'd wake up, and he'd already be gone, having to fly for D.C. on an emergency call, you'd see a vase of white tulips and pink carnations resting above the dining table. A silent yet beautiful way for him to say he's sorry, (and how can you not forgive him when he still finds time to give your flowers, no matter how busy he gets?) 06 | You know that Ghost is not the one for grand romantic gestures, understanding that he's reserved and somewhat hesitant when loving you. Because of this, reassurance is often hard to get from Simon. You would have expected communication to be nonexistent when he's a man of few words, but if anything, it's always constant: proven by the different flowers he'd get for you, knowing that it is a language you can both understand. After arguments, he'd say sorry by leaving white orchids by your bedside table. While 'I love yous' were expressed through red-white carnations and peonies. And with Simon, it's about paying attention to the little things, like when he walks up to you out of the blue, silent yet gentle as he tucks a chrysanthemum behind your ear. He'd stand there and admire you, hands still resting under your chin, " Fucking hell... you're beautiful, you know that?" From then on, you've been hard at work in your little garden, knowing that with it, you've made him a home to come back to.

a/n : so sorry for the late response anon, university has been kicking my ass, but thank you for requesting ! when i tell you i had so much fun writing this (i’m such a sucker for pure gentle fluff), what a creative and lovely request, i can already tell you’re wonderful by just this. i hope you enjoy it !! <3 

[damallarky]

Boyfriend

@buttsonthebeach, @beardedladyqueen and everyone else who have been waiting for Truce.... this is not it. BUT it is another Solavellan Kid Fic.

This takes place about three years after the events of Veilguard, when Solas and Lavellan finally have their happy ending because that's what's going to happen. Right BioWare? Right?????

Nan is Aisling's first child from a different relationship. He's 17.

Neria is Solavellan child #1. She's 15. If you have read Truce, you will be happy to notice that by the time this fic happens, Solas has earned the coveted title of "Papae".

Enasali is 3.

-

Aisling sat and embroidered underneath the shade of the massive oak tree in their garden, listening as her youngest child shrieked and ran away from the large monstrous wolf chasing her. It was the size of a small dragon, with six glowing eyes and razor-sharp teeth as tall as the toddler it was after.  

Yet Aisling knew her daughter was in no danger, for she knew the man beneath the beast and that he loved Enasali as much as she did. She also knew, as she felt the child growing within her kick, that their lives would be changing yet again (this time for the better) and that soon Solas would have much less time to play their daughter's favorite game of “Chase (and Be Chased By) the Giant Puppy.” 

She and Solas had both agreed to spend as much time as possible with their children, particularly Enasali, before the baby came, and most of their time and energy was taken up by the baby.

Aisling’s thoughts were interrupted by peels of laughter, and she looked up from her embroidery to see Solas belly crawl through the flowers, his tail wagging rapidly as he inched closer and closer to Enasali. 

“Not through my bellflowers, please!” she called out. 

Solas stopped in his tracks and glanced back at her with two of his six eyes. He had the decency to flatten his ears to his skull in a sheepish expression before rolling over slightly to the left to get out of the way of Aisling’s precious bulbs. The fact that he smashed more of them in the process was not lost on her. Or him, for that matter, given the fact that he was now, very pointedly, not looking at her. 

Aisling stifled her laughter and decided to let it slide for now. 

She was just about to return to her embroidery when she heard a scream, followed by a large crash. Solas, too, heard the crash, and he immediately froze, jumping to his feet with his ears perked up and all six of his eyes focused in the direction of the noise. They both settled, however, when they realized it was their two oldest children screeching down the steps of their Fade home and not an intruder. 

“GIVE IT BACK, RENAN!” Neria yelled, trying to grab at her brother. Nan leaped over the banister and made a beeline straight to his mother, a leatherbound journal in his hands and what Aisling could only describe as a shit-eating grin on his face. He ran behind his mother and opened the journal to read it out loud.

“’I saw him again today,’” he read gleefully. “’How have I never noticed how blue his eyes were before now?’”

“I swear, Nan,” Neria seethed, “if you do not give me back my journal right now…”

They chased each other in circles around their mother, who was trying in vain to make them stop.

“That’s enough, you two,” she said warningly, but her children seemed too busy antagonizing each other to hear her. Nan continued to read from Neria’s journal, ignoring her threats and holding her journal up high so his sister couldn’t reach it. 

“’I hope I can see him again soon!’” he crowed. “’If only so I can see those pretty blue eyes again!’”

Neria’s face turned as bright red as her hair, and she, in a fit of rage, punched her brother in the gut. Hard. 

“STOP IT, THE BOTH OF YOU!” Aisling shouted. Both children looked down in contrition as she stood up, abandoning her embroidery. With her real hand resting on her swollen stomach, she held out her artificial one to Nan expectantly. 

“Renan, give me her journal. Now,” she commanded. 

Head still bowed, he handed his mother the journal. Aisling then gave it to Neria, who practically yanked it out of her mother’s hand and held it close to her chest.

“Neria,” Aisling said in a severe voice to let her daughter know she meant business, “how many times have your father and I told you that not every problem can be solved with your fists?”

She glanced over at said father, who was conveniently pretending he could not hear the argument as he entertained Enasali. Aisling supposed it was for the best. Their youngest hero worshiped her older siblings and was distraught whenever they argued, and Aisling was unsure if she could deal with a sobbing toddler on top of two misbehaving teenagers. 

“Now,” she said, giving both of her children very pointed looks, “I want the two of you to apologize to each other immediately.”

“Ir abelas, Neria,” Nan said. “I shouldn’t have taken your journal or told everyone about your secret boyfriend…”

Aisling glared at her son while Neria looked ready to punch him again. 

“Renan Lavellan!” 

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“What is this about a boyfriend?”

They all turned to see a massive lupine head looming down at them, six eyes darting between the three of them in concern.

“Neria, is someone courting you?” he asked, his voice taking on a slightly panicked quality to it. “Who is this boy? How old is he? How did you meet him?” 

Neria’s face got redder and redder with each question, while Nan’s grin broadened. 

“She met him at one of Uncle Varric’s parties!” he said gleefully. Neria gave him a withering look, and Aisling was suddenly very concerned that Neria would skip the fists and start setting her brother on fire. Then she looked over at Solas, and judging by the look in his six eyes, Aisling knew that he was mentally going over every known associate of Varric Tethras, trying to determine who this mysterious suitor was and how to adequately dispose of them. Probably also with fire.

It took her breath away at times how alike father and daughter were. It was also just as likely to give her a headache.

Aisling pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“Solas…” she said warningly.

“What?” Solas replied innocently. “I merely wish to know more about Neria’s boyfriend…” Then, he narrowed his eyes and added, “…whom I would also very much like to meet. Privately.” 

Neria threw her arms up in the air in exasperation. 

“PAPAE!” she screeched. “THERE IS NO BOYFRIEND!”

Neria clutched her journal to her chest and glared at her family.

"You are all the worst!" she cried before stomping off towards the house.

Aisling heaved a heavy sigh. She had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time she'd hear of this.

[ravetillyoucry]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. * ੈ✩‧₊˚

At the edge of world

We strain our ears to hear the galaxy

A gentle breeze, your ankle

Outlines the bellflowers

The palm of my hand, curled in the soil

When it envelopes yours

It’s bittersweet

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. * ੈ✩‧₊˚

THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS ❤️😭❤️😭❤️ I’m a little late for the milestone but it took a while to figure out what i wanted to do exactly . I can’t believe i’ve come this farrrr it warms my heart so much to know people enjoy the things I make 🥹

( Sorry I couldn’t put direct translations in the video , I’m not too well versed in japanese grammar so I wasn’t sure which lyric translation would go first given the fact that japanese is very different grammatically to english and i’m just Not knowledgeable enough to know what the translations would be in parts rather than full lines 🥹 )

Song: Asleep Among Endives - Ichiko Aoba

[trekscribbles]

Backslide Chapter 2

Fandom: Leverage

Cross-Posted: AO3 and FF

Summary:

They stopped Damien Moreau. They put him in jail in San Lorenzo where he'd never be able to hurt anyone else, and Eliot thought he was finally, finally free.

And then Moreau escaped.

And he has one last job for Eliot: to kill his team and anyone else he's gotten close to since leaving.

Chapter 1

He started with Quinn.

A text first, to ensure Quinn would pick up the phone when Eliot called.

Need a favor.

You still owe me from the last one, came the immediate reply.

Eliot dialed. The phone rang once, and then Quinn’s voice drawled in his ear. “Am I allowed to shoot people this time?”

“Yes,” Eliot said. 

A long pause. 

“Okay. I’m listening.”

Eliot cleared his throat. “What do you know about Damien Moreau?”

“Haven’t heard much about him lately.”

“You know I used to work for him?”

Quinn’s voice was carefully bland. “I did my research when Sterling hired me to take you out. His name came up with yours.”

“You know his reputation?” Eliot asked.

“I do.”

One more breath, one more moment of peace, and then—

“He offered me a job.”

Silence. Waiting. Eliot answered its invitation.

“It’s my team.”

“What do you need?” Quinn asked.

“He gave me three days,” Eliot said. “How soon can you get here?”

“Tonight.”

Eliot let out a relieved breath. “If things go as planned, this’ll be a nice vacation for you. If not... if I can’t get to Moreau before the deadline...”

“I’m the last line of defense?”

Eliot’s throat went dry. It sounded so much worse out loud.

“What does Nate think?” Quinn asked.

“He doesn’t know.”

“You sure that’s a good idea? He seemed to have a pretty good head for things like this.”

“He’ll tell the others,” Eliot said. “They won’t understand. They’ll try to stop me.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

Eliot tried to swallow, tried not to choke on his words. His voice came out raw, but even. “This is my job. Protecting them, taking care of threats. It’s my fault Moreau is after them, and I can’t... We tried it Nate’s way. We put him in jail, and he got out. He’ll keep getting out. If I don’t stop him now, my team dies. This is the only way.”

“I could go,” Quinn offered, and an unexpected surge of warmth mixed with the fear welling in Eliot’s chest. “You may have gone straight, but I still do things the easy way. If you hesitate at the wrong moment, it could go sideways fast.”

“I won’t hesitate,” Eliot said.

His voice was dark enough to end the discussion.

After that, there wasn’t much to prepare. He didn’t travel with luggage, and he didn’t need to bring his own weapons—he’d get what he needed once he found Moreau.

Then it was just the goodbyes.

He left them in his apartment, which had started to feel less like a home and more like a place he kept supplies between jobs. For Hardison, the collection of recipes and meal-and-beer pairings he’d been creating for the brewpub, typed into an email scheduled to send in four days. For Parker, a list of his bank accounts and passwords, enclosed in a small, folded note with her name on the front. For Nate, a summary of the best argument he could think of to convince Quinn to take his place on the team, and an inadequate line of thanks.

That left only one more. On a burner phone, he called a florist across town who advertised discreet deliveries. He gave them Sophie’s name for the card and dictated his final message via flower arrangement.

White bellflower. 

Gratitude.

White lily.

Farewell.

White butterfly weed.

Let me go.

[dujour13]

OC Kiss Week - day 1

For @offsidekineticist 💜 Your OCs live in my heart and the buddy cop AU lives in my head

CW: claustrophobia, disposal of disposable NPCs, non-consensual smooch, homicidal ideation

“Gil?” Siavash is crouched in the halfling-sized holding cell with his knees around his ears. “Gil! You came back for me!”

“Keep it down. Only because I know you, and you don’t do torture. A hot instrument gets within ten feet of the face and you’ll be singing like a lark. The name, address, date of birth and favorite fucking flavor of ice cream of every Bellflower in Cheliax’ll be on their list.” He finishes picking the lock and throws open the bars.

The moment his long half-elven limbs are free Siavash stretches them happily, grabs Giliys by both cheeks and kisses him square on the crown of the head. “I love you.”

“Ugh, cut that out.”

“You didn’t kill the guards did you? Would you believe one of them plays prismati? We got to chatting and—oh.”

Giliys did kill the guards. Siavash steps over the carnage, tearful eyes trained on the heavens.

“If you hadn’t spared that magistrate we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place,” grumbles Giliys, grabbing his ridiculous scarf and pulling him down behind the barrier so he can scan the hill beyond to make sure his planned escape route is still clear.

It isn’t. Even from here he can make out the glow of approaching torches: the Hellknights coming to collect this latest roundup of troublemakers.

“We’re trapped.”

“It’ll be fine.”

Giliys’ fingers twitch around the hilt of his dagger. He opens his mouth but a whisper from behind them cuts him off.

“Psst. Over here.”

It’s the magistrate, the one Siavash talked him into letting go, and who apparently turned right around and led the authorities to them. But now she’s had some kind of existential crisis and looks like she’s been crying. She unlocks the door to the storage barn. “Take the back door. I’ll distract the Hellknights.”

Siavash beams. “Thanks.”

There’s no reason to trust her, but there aren’t any other options, so Giliys grits his teeth and follows.

Later, traveling cross country in a heavy downpour but free at last, they pause to rest only a few miles from the Andoren border.

“Told you so,” says Siavash.

If Giliys’ eyes were daggers his partner would be in front of Pharasma now.

Siavash seems unfazed. “You know, if you really wanted to stop me from spilling all our secrets you didn’t have to let me out. You could have just killed me.”

Giliys raises a finger. “Don’t fucking tempt me.” But even as he says it he realizes he probably wouldn’t, even after that obnoxious and invasive display of affection, because a glib Andoren who has the favor of the goddess of luck can come in handy sometimes.

[lilacmingi]

ALICE IN WONDERLAND AU: JUNGKOOK’S ENDING

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Word count: 1,480

Pairing: White rabbit!Jungkook x fem reader

Note: There’s no taglist for the separate endings. If you haven’t read the series yet, you can find the intro here or find it on my masterlist which is linked at the end of the imagine

Every single one of them were amazing and beyond perfect, but your heart seemed to be pulled towards one of them in particular.

You thought back to when you saw Jungkook and how he was the first one you met even before falling down the rabbit hole and into Wonderland. Images of him ravishing your neck with kisses brought an intense heat to your cheeks as your eyes drifted over to him.

"You're all certain that you won't get angry?" You inquired before revealing your answer.

"We're sure." Taehyung smiled warmly. "Your happiness is all that matters to us."

"Go ahead. Pick one." Yoongi urged gently.

"I can see you already have someone in mind." Namjoon said. "So just say it."

You nodded and took in a deep breath. "I choose Jungkook."

Jungkook's face lit up and his bunny ears perked as soon as his name left your lips. Unable to contain his excitement, he ran up and embraced you in a night hug, momentarily lifting you off the ground.

"I love you, Y/n. I love you so much." He murmured while rocking the both of you back and forth.

"I love you too."

Lifting his head, he locked eyes with you, tugging your body closer to his.

"We're gonna be so happy together." He whispered as he inched closer to your lips.

As much as you wanted to kiss him, you knew there were six other people standing nearby.

Before you could stop Jungkook on your own, someone cleared their throat, causing him to pull away.

"Save that for the bunny cottage." It was Yoongi that spoke.

"Sorry." The tips of Jungkook's ears turned pink from embarrassment. "I got carried away."

"Well that settles it." Jin smiled warmly. "I suppose we should all go our separate ways."

"We all need to keep in touch." Jimin mentioned.

"I'm having a tea party tomorrow! You all should join." Taehyung piped up.

"You have a tea party every day. What's new?" Yoongi remarked.

"We can always find something else to do together. I promise we won't lose touch. I'll make sure of it." Hoseok assured.

"Me too." Jimin agreed.

"Alright. We should probably let these two get on down the road and stop holding them up." Namjoon said.

The boys pulled both you and Jungkook into an embrace, everyone saying their goodbyes and promising to meet up and stay in contact on a regular basis.

Giving a final wave to the group, you left Jin's castle and started making your way to your new home. Jungkook intertwined his fingers with yours, your feet shuffling along the cracked stone pathway that led away from the towering castle and out into the vast valley of Wonderland.

"You okay?" Jungkook tilted his head cutely.

"Yeah. Just nervous. This is a big change."

"You're happy though, right?"

"Yes. Very happy." You smiled. "It's a big change, but it's one that I'm looking forward to."

"Good. It shouldn't take us very long to get there."

"I'm so excited."

"Me too. I think you'll like it a lot."

A few minutes passed before you came upon a quaint cottage with blue bellflowers planted on either side of the front entrance and small clumps of moss growing on the roof making it look like a fairy cottage from a fantasy book. What you were seeing was nothing like what you had pictured.

Jungkook stepped forward and took it upon himself to open the door for you.

"After you, sweetheart."

The nickname made your heart thump as you kept your composure and stepped inside.

What you saw almost took your breath away. The interior was decorated cozily, setting a warm and comfortable atmosphere that made you feel right at home.

"Did you decorate this place yourself?" You asked, looking around at the small plants scattered about the living room area.

"I did." He grinned proudly.

"It's so beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you." Jungkook's voice sounded from right beside your ear, his fingers brushing your hair back so he could trail kisses up your neck.

Your eyelids slid closed and you leaned back against him while simultaneously presenting more of your neck so he had more room to ravish you with his soft lips.

"I'm so lucky." He hummed as his hands slid around your waist.

Two weeks later

You stood at the stove flipping the last batch of pancakes, the warm scent wafting into the air and filling the small kitchen. A fond smile colored your features while you pulled cups and plates from the cabinets. You absolutely adored Jungkook's little cottage. It was cute, cozy, and the perfect size for the both of you to live in. The kitchen, though small, was equipped with all the necessities while taking up a minimal amount of space.

You rolled up the sleeves on Jungkook's shirt which you currently donned and plated the pancakes. The white dress shirt you wore fit him perfectly, though it was a little tight around the sleeves due to his massive biceps. However, the garment looked huge on you, the hem of it reaching your mid to upper thigh.

The faint sound of bare feet padding against the hardwood floors reached your ears moments before a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist.

"Good morning." A groggy Jungkook murmured, his morning voice sending a not-so-subtle shiver down your spine.

"Good morning, bun." You reached back to tousle his long hair which was no doubt a mess.

"You made pancakes? That's so sweet of you." He placed a kiss to your cheek.

"It's nothing." You fought back a smile, turning your head just enough to where Jungkook couldn't see you getting flustered.

His strong hands gripped your waist and spun you around to face him. It was then that you took notice of the fact that he didn't have a shirt on, leaving nothing to the imagination.

In the two weeks you had been living with Jungkook, seeing him shirtless wasn't an uncommon sight, but you still managed to get flustered every time you saw his exposed torso. It drove you crazy. His broad chest and tiny waist were always capturing your attention, drawing you in like a magnet.

When your eyes met Jungkook's, he smirked at you. It was then that you realized you were (very obviously) staring at his physique and you had been caught.

"Something catch your eye?" He inquired, quirking a sharp brow.

Your eyes avoided his which made him take your chin between his fingers, turning your gaze back to him. A mixture of desire and adoration swirled behind his darkening eyes.

"What are you staring at, beautiful?" He asked.

You responded with a meek, "Nothing."

"C'mon, darling. You can tell me. I am your boyfriend, after all." He spoke lowly, leaning in so close that you could feel his breath tickling your neck.

"You know what I was staring at." You responded.

He feigned innocence. "No I don't."

You swallowed.

"Why don't you show me?"

That cheeky little comment lit a fire in the pit of your stomach.

Two can play at that game.

Bringing your hand to his upper chest, you placed your palm onto his skin before slowly sliding it down the valley of his chest, one of his bunny ears twitching lightly in response. Your hand moved lower to his stomach, your fingertips trailing over his abs, causing his eyelids to flutter.

"I was staring at all this, big boy." You responded in a sultry tone.

That was all it took to make him snap.

He closed the gap between your faces and attacked your lips with his own, biting harshly at them before taking your bottom lip between his. Your hands flew up to his hair, grabbing handfuls of the long, inky strands, tugging on his locks every once in a while, eliciting small sighs and grunts from him.

Kisses with Jungkook were always dizzying and left you in a haze of bliss. The man was full of passion and never failed to remind you of that.

The tips of your fingers brushed against the base of his bunny ears, causing him to release a sigh into your mouth. Unable to keep them in one place for too long, your hands traveled down along his broad chest and across his torso, feeling every dip and curve of his toned body. In turn, he pressed you against the cabinets, caging your smaller form with his much larger one.

"Jungkook." You sighed out when your lips parted ways, your breaths coming out in shallow huffs.

"Mmm what?" He hummed, kissing you again.

"The pancakes are going to get cold."

"Why have pancakes when I have something sweeter right in front of me?" He murmured, latching his lips to yours once again.

You eventually got around to eating breakfast, just after a long and heated make out session.

Masterlist ᝰ

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

[rosieofcorona]

In the Blue Morning

BELOVEDS, a soft little Solavellan fic for you. Mostly fluff this time around to soothe the eternal, unyielding hurt. Also on AO3, if you prefer. As always, thank you for reading. 💕

She cajoles him, some mornings, away from his office, from his maps and his books and his paintings and out among the newly-planted gardens, all their tight, unfurling blooms. 

It’s always empty at this hour, when most of Skyhold is still asleep save for the guards in their high towers, the recruits in the practice yard. The only sound is the clang of their swords ringing through the mist like distant bells, the only light the pink and gold of the nascent sun.

They have been careful, desperately careful not to draw undue attention, not to generate rumors that could harm the Inquisition in the future. It is easier on the road to find a quiet moment alone– to steal a kiss or hold a hand or put words to their love– but the castle, however safe, is full of eyes, forever watching.

It is only in the narrow, muted hours before dawn that Solas weaves his fingers with hers as they orbit the courtyard, side by side.

He names the blossoms as they pass, first in the trade tongue and then in Elvish, the softened syllables like music on his tongue. She repeats them half as gracefully, but he smiles at every attempt, correcting her gently now and again, praising her efforts.

“Gail’lealis,” he says, pointing out an elegant bellflower, its blue-white petals bundled tightly in green sepals.

It sounds off, even to her ear, when she says, “Ga’lealis,” back.

They pause for a moment, and Solas turns and bends and plucks an early bloom from the same plant, rotating it slowly between his fingers, holding it up for examination. 

“Ga-il,” he repeats softly, separating the sounds. “Meaning ‘bell,’ in the common parlance.” 

“Ga-il,” she says again, correctly this time. 

“Followed by lealis, meaning ‘glass.’”

“Gail’lealis.”

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, tucking the flower behind her ear, the meaning vague yet all-encompassing. It is all beautiful– the morning, the garden, how she catches the light, his ancient language in her mouth, her mouth– 

Solas kisses her in the empty courtyard, parts her lips with a linguist’s tongue, and she kisses him back again and again as if each time might be the last. He wants to stay like this forever, wants the sun to forget to rise, wants the castle to sleep and sleep in an endless dream.

But the light keeps coming, every moment. The castle will wake, and they will see. 

And this will cost them, in the end. 

She is pink as the sky when they finally come apart, and continue their long walk around. 

“I hear you were out here yesterday,” she says, breaking the silence as they turn a corner. “Cullen says you beat him soundly at chess.” 

“It was a closer game than he thinks,” Solas says, but she has learned when he’s just being modest.

“Must not have been that close, because Bull says the same. As do Blackwall, and Varric, and Dorian, though he swears that you cheated.”  “I did no such thing!” 

When they turn again, the chessboard in question comes into full view, set and waiting on its table beneath an awning. 

“He seemed very certain,” she shrugs. “Though I suppose I could find out for myself.”

They stop again before the table, and Solas looks at her intently.  “Is that a challenge, dear Inquisitor?”

“That depends on your level of skill.”

She’s teasing him now, enticing him, a dynamic he’s come to enjoy. There are so few who impress him with thoughtfulness, who make him work at being clever.

“Very well, but you should know that I am merciless,” he warns, a contradiction to the chivalry of pulling out her chair. “Even to one I love.”

He takes the seat opposite her, the board and the pieces adorned in glittering dew. 

“I believe the Lady Inquisitor moves first.”

**********

He sets a dozen little traps for her, a dozen clever gambits, and she evades them every time, to his astonishment. Where he moves to attack, she counters; where he baits her, she defends or retreats. By the end, with the sun fully risen overhead, they reach a deadlock, both depleted, neither victorious.

“Again?” She asks cheerfully, when they’ve finished. Already she is freeing her captives from his end of the table. “Don’t look so stunned, my love. Unless you’re trying to offend me.”

“Forgive me, vhenan,” he says, shaking his head. “You surprise me as always. It is rare to find an opponent so…discerning.” 

His beloved laughs with the morning breeze, a sound like air that surrounds and envelops him. 

“Rare to find one you can’t beat, you mean.” 

She’s right, of course– it is rare that he loses, even rarer that he plays against someone so evenly matched. He still can’t quite puzzle through it, where he went wrong, where she figured him out. 

He had gotten a lead on her early on, or so he thought– he had taken a tower, a mage, and two pawns– and left his queen open for the taking, which she had entirely ignored. She caught onto him quickly, though too late to win, and when she realized she couldn’t beat him, she had blocked him instead. 

Solas leans thoughtfully back in his chair, replaying their game in his mind. No matter how he tries to beat her, he finds no way through. She sees his scheming, sees him coming, cuts him off. 

“Why did you not take my queen, given the chance?”

“Because you gave me the chance,” she reasons. “You wouldn’t do that except to win.” 

“It could have been a tactical error.”  “It wasn’t,” she says assuredly, resetting the pieces along their battle lines. “If I had taken her, it would have left my king undefended from your mages.”  “You could have moved him.”  “For a turn or two. Then your knight would have circled back. Isn’t that right?” She looks up at Solas, her eyes smiling and sharp, affirmed in her answer already. “Or shall we call that a ‘tactical error?’”

“Mm,” Solas nods his approval. “You’ve become quite the strategist. Have you been spending time with our Commander?”

“I’ve been spending time with you,” she counters. “Learning all your little tricks.”

Not all, it occurs to him, but Solas smothers the thought with a laugh. “It seems to me you have a few of your own.” 

“Our Keeper used to call me harellan,” she tells him. “Trickster. Though I needn’t explain that to you.”

He fights to keep the easy expression on his face, feeling suddenly caught in the snare of her gaze, as if she sees directly through him, sees him fully, all he is.

Harellan, his mind echoes. How could she know?

The wait for her judgment feels infinite, inevitable– but it does not come, and does not come, and does not come. She only moves a white pawn toward the board’s center, the leaves rustling softly around them. 

No, he decides. She does not know. She only means he knows the word. 

Solas mirrors her opening move, their pawns face to face on the battlefield. “And still, your Keeper named you her First.” 

“I was more troublesome as a child,” she says, with a grin that implies that the mischief has never left her. “I’ve settled down a great deal since. Can’t you tell?”

This time, when Solas laughs, there is nothing else hiding beneath it. No uneasy feeling, no great fear that she will discover him, cast him out. There is only happiness for a moment, the war reduced to a board between them, as if sorrow and death are nowhere, and the end of the world is far away.

[luvtonique]

Think it's worth noting

My whole "Someone argued with me that I didn't grow up in LA" post's origin is pretty important

I heard gunshots out my back door last night, some meth-head shot out the tires on his wife's car because they were fighting. Called the police, guy got arrested, etc. Turned out he was from San Fran and was here to buy meth. Big surprise.

Anyway so

I said to someone, "I've heard gunshots before, it's nothing knew. Growing up in LA you get used to that shit."

And he replied "You didn't grow up in LA, lmao"

And I said "Seriously? Why do people have such a hard time believing that. Bellflower CA, <exact address of my old house>, went to Lindstrom Elementary and Mayfair Highschool."

And his response was "You just googled quick locations and checked the nearby schools. This is a poor attempt at a lie."

I'm not gonna get over this. These people who create arguments like this and stick their fingers in their ears are the actual worst people in the world. I'd rather talk to a child murderer than talk to another fucking closed-eared scumbag who decides they're correct when their side of the argument is so fucking braindead my actually genuinely retarded ass thinks "Man this guy's retarded."

[sg-the-mag-by]

Bellflower Bat Welcome Home Van Helsing AU

Tossed my bat girl Bellflower into another AU, one that really lets her mysterious bat side shine. In my side of the AU she and Howdy are dating in secret, mainly because in this AU Bellflower is a Dhampir and a Werebat, plus a bit of magic from her father’s side-Poppy’s uncle on her own father’s side.

Bellflower does drink blood, though sticks to wild animals or unsuspecting people, those are only if she is desperate or it’s the full moon and she’s in her Werebat form. In that form her thirst for blood is tripled and she is much more animalistic so watch out or your blood will be on her menu. She NEVER eats meat even as a Werebat, she is a fruit bat and vampire bat only.

She and Poppy are as close as sisters and when Bellflower isn’t sneaking away from her family to be with Howdy, she’ll be found helping Poppy with her fortune telling.

Bellflower considers Howdy her best friend, lover, and bond mate-though that last one is not yet known to her or Howdy but Eddie, Frank, Julie, and Poppy all see it and are just telling the two to just kiss and marry already, which they will when they’re ready. Howdy is uncharacteristically protective over Belle and she him, which both chalk up to how close they are as friends, not realizing it is their bond mate link that causes this.

Bellflower sees Wally as the brother she never had, but because of who she is she doesn’t let anything reveal herself to Wally, even if it means she can only visit him a few days out of the whole month. She will protect him of course, but if she has to use her powers she’ll have her hood up.

Barnaby is another close friend, though Bellflower doesn’t hang out with him as much, at least around him she can be herself, and help stitch him up if an ear or arm falls off randomly. Barnaby loves trying out his new jokes on her and loves watching her double over on herself laughing, thinking her laugh is super sweet and if Howdy doesn’t claim her then he might. Which Howdy wouldn’t allow, again linking back to him and Belle being bond mates.

Eddie is Bellflower’s second best friend. She helps him track werewolves, he helps her through the full moon by getting her a plethora of animals to drink their blood so she doesn’t have to go to the villages.

Frank and Bellflower have a solid friendship, nothing like what he and Julie have, but they do appreciate Bellflower’s company and magic knowledge she has from her late father(he was killed thinking he was a Vampire when he was just a normal fortune teller). Belle loves listening to Frank go on about their new spells, looking into the potions they make when Eddie gets attacked by Werewolves, and helping him learn more on Werebats, as well as just having relaxing conversations on just about anything.

Like Frank, Bellflower and Julie share a solid friendship with Belle bringing her things for her brews and Julie having another female friend to talk to and help Bellflower’s magical powers increase, Frank does this too but Julie adds fun twists in her teachings.

Last is Sally and Belle only has a purely neutral friendship with her. She goes to her bar only when she’s in town, and like with Wally never lets it out who she really is. She does kick out rude patrons for Sally, usually taking them out back and drinking their blood only to spit it out because of the alcohol in it, and sends them on their way. Sally is suspicious but she knows if she voices anything she’ll lose Bellflower as a friend, patron, and bouncer.

BONUS! @orphanpuppet ‘s OC Allie Sweetie Bellflower sees as a nephew, since he was adopted by Frank and Eddie, and is always up for babysitting him and helping him to fly, and to stop him from chewing the furniture as his bigger vampire fangs come in too.

And that’s what I’ve got for Bellflower’s relationship to everyone in this AU. Thank you @night-light-artz for the template and I hope I didn’t mess up anyone’s personalities in your AU with how they’d react around Bellflower.

Welcome Home-@partycoffin

Welcome Home Van Helsing AU-@night-light-artz

Allie Sweetie-@orphanpuppet

Bellflower Bat-Me

[mtzbshi]

“ Friendship is like a beautiful constellation, it's a pattern of unique individuals that form and come together as the stars.”

— Raine D. C. 🐮🫐🌧️

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Fun Facts :

Her favourite flowers are Blue Bellflowers and Daisies !

Her Surname is De Castro !

She loves Jazz, Indie Music like Mitski, Laufey, Vansire and Oldies music ABBA !

She loves anything related to blueberry especially blueberry cheescake ! 🫐🍰

She has sensitive ears, so please don't yell at her Benson ^^ !

She loves wearing thick, loose and cozy leg warmers !

She was born on a rainy day

She dislikes sour, overflavoured food and carbonated drinks

She loves dressing up in European specifically English and Scottish fashion ! 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 But on her daily basis, she wears navy blue – dark coquette ! You can tell that one of her favourite colours is navy blue, including cream white and black !

She spends her time in the library during free time, fashion designing, or tries to cook her family's recipe when she feels homesick

She can speak Tagalog, Filipino ( I can tell the difference, so don't try me (¬⤙¬ ) ), English and English Sign Language !

She used to think that she was a Rhino since she had a stuffed toy named Rio 🦏

She loves soft breezes and rain but despises the rainstorm especially the petrifying sounds of the thunder. Please comfort and cover her ears (⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ

She dislikes hot weather since she hates sweating

She gets mistaken with Rigby being a child since of his wee height

She loves to drink cold green tea and milk coffee !

She loves her long back hair being braided, decorated with flowers or hairclips ! ( her hair is Jellyfish cut like Rindou Haitani's from Tokyo Revengers but Raine has a layered bob cut )

She can play the ukulele !

She loves to sleep and loves the softest and thickest pillows and blankets !

She calls everyone Sir / Mister / Miss / Mis-iz to show respect since she was raised to be a polite cowlette ( my term for little female calf ! )

She's Spiritual, not Religious therefore she has her own beliefs and doesn't depend what's according to the Bible

She loves astronomy and wants to discover a star one day and the name is Pluviane Astra ( Pluvia ( Rain in Latin ) + Raine = Pluviane ) + ( Astra ( Star in Latin )

She was raised to be independent that she couldn't ask for help :c

If Raine was a song, she would be Meteor Shower by Cavetown !

By Electio Aroace, she neither feels sexual or romantic attraction however, she wants to be either in those relationships

Raine is heavily inspired by Kobeni Higashiyama from Chainsaw Man, Anxiety from Inside Out 2, Sucrose and Furina from Genshin Impact, Ebina Nana from Himouto! Umaru-chan, Hinata Tachibana, Mitsuya Takashi and Takemitchi Hanagaki from Tokyo Revengers, and my bashful self when I'm with the person I secretly admire ! So please pardon her for crying because she's really shy and wanted to make a good impression, Raine has mild social anxiety, she truly dislikes crowded and loud places because she feels like she's being stared at or made fun of her " unhuman-ish " look

She has a family business of perfume-making🪻🥀

She used to be a Criminology student, Raine is currently learning Arnis and Kickboxing ! She can run swiftly and has great agility and reaction time (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

If she were in an intimate relationship with one of the characters, I suppose she would be with Thomas / Nikolai and since I wanted angst, I'll be making a sad love short story between them and it will be called " I Got Your Six " BUT ! She used to have a lover named Laurent back in the Philippines 3 years ago but he passed away due to sickness ( • ᴖ • )

She loved Laurent calling her Ambon ( mist ; gentle rain in Filipino ) and Raine used to call him Tala ( Star in Filipino ) since he's the reason why she adored the night sky, he would always talk about space with her

She is familiar with Filipino Witchcraft, Paranormal Communication, and Rituals (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

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