#clover at the teacups ride

[howlonomy]

Ok, so I guess I kinda sorta lied about not sending anymore Pixel Clovers today, BUT my excuse is that I didn't make anything new, just sped things up

MAX SPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED!!! They will be so dizzy if/when they stop

Is it bad if they're making me dizzy by proxy? Probably not

SPIINNN LOOK AT THEM GO theyre going to be so sick when they stop

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Ortho Shroud - Playful Gear Vignette

"That's super rare and amazing"

[Playful Land – Stage]

Ortho: Heheh, I got to sing and dance with everyone from Night Raven College, as well as all the other guests…

Ortho: That was the best stage show ever. I'm super glad I got to come to Playful Land!

Ortho: Now then. Time for me to check out some more places.

Ortho: I was at the game corner with Vil's group earlier, so maybe I'll get on some rides in a different area.

Lilia: Well then, how about you join us, then?

Ortho: Oh, Lilia Vanrouge-san, and Trey Clover-san!

Ortho: Thanks for inviting me to go with you. Where are you two heading now?

Trey: We're heading to the Undersea Walk area. Apparently, they make it look like you're actually at the bottom of the ocean there.

Trey: Really makes you feel like we're in a theme park, huh. Just walking through that will probably be fun.

Lilia: And of course, we're gonna find stuff to ride, as well. The one I'm looking forward to ride is the 'Whirl Bottle"!

Ortho: "Whirl Bottle"… That's one of those trackless rides. According to the park guide map…

Ortho: "This is a thrilling attraction where carriages shaped like glass bottles spin around on a revolving floor."

Ortho: "Once you climb on board, all that's left to do is to leave your fate to the ocean's tides! Careful not to become too dizzy."

Lilia: Yup. Doesn't it sound like a swell old time?

Trey: So basically, it's a teacup ride.

Trey: Back home… At the amusement park in the Queendom of Roses, just like the name says, the ride is with teacups.

Ortho: I bet that's 'cause the people in the Queendom drink tea basically every day. It's fascinating to see the differences just based on the region.

Ortho: Since the Playful Land's attractions are all based on the Wish Upon a Star story…

Ortho: Whirl Bottle must be modeled after the scene where the Wooden Puppet's teacher braved the stormy seas by using a bottle as his ship, right?

Trey: Aah… That makes sense. Now that you say it that way, I can see it now.

Lilia: I can't wait to see it in person. So let's hurry and get on to check it out ourselves!

Ortho: YEAH!

[Playful Land – Bazaar]

Lilia: ALRIGHT YOU SCALLYWAGS, TURN THE WHEEL, TURN THE WHEEL～～～

Ortho: AYE AYE SIR!! LET'S GOOO～～～!!

Trey: Both of you don't go so hard…! Urgh, I'm starting to get dizzy…

Trey: …That was a much harder ride than I was expecting. My head is still going in circles.

Ortho: Trey-san, are you alright? Did you get motion sickness from all of our spinning?

Lilia: I'm perfectly alright, but… Guess I just trained my inner ear better.

Lilia: Here ya go, I brought you water. You should take a rest on that bench yonder.

Trey: Thanks, Lilia. Once I feel a bit better, I'll go see how Ace's group is getting on and take a stroll around the park a little.

Trey: So you two go on ahead and have some fun. Go and enjoy Playful Land.

Ortho: Oh… Alright. Then we'll head on out.

Trey: Yeah, go on. Take care, have fun.

Lilia/Ortho: Yeh! / Okay!

Ortho: Trey-san said he'd be alright so we just left him there, but… Was that really okay?

Lilia: Kufufu, no need to worry about him. He said it himself, didn't he? It was just a slight bit of motion sickness.

Lilia: He's the Vice Housewarden of Heartslabyul. There's no way he's that weak of a person.

Ortho: I don't think being the Vice Housewarden of Heartslabyul really matters… But I do agree that he's not weak.

Ortho: But that ride just now…

Ortho: …Honestly, it wasn't too wild, right?

Lilia: RIGHT!? I was just thinking that it wasn't thrilling enough.

Lilia: Just as you surmised, the Whirl Bottle ride was based on the scene of the Wooden Puppet's teacher floating on the stormy seas.

Lilia: So don't you think that they should have had water splashing us, or a giant seagull attacking us during the ride?

Ortho: Absolutely! And instead of just spinning around and around, I would have loved being shaken all up and down, left and right too.

Lilia: Mhm. That would've been a great idea. There's not many rides out there that can give you the feeling of roughing it in a storm.

Ortho: But if we want to implement more random movements, we'd have to completely redesign the attraction's structure…

Ortho: Ah, but if we just adjust the program, maybe the movement and spinning could become even more random.

Ortho: It would be much more exciting to not be able to predict which way it'll move next, don't you think?

Lilia: Mhm. That's because it's just as thrilling whenever you face a foe that doesn't showcase their next move, after all.

Lilia: ...AH! ORTHO, CHECK THAT OUT!

Ortho: EH!?

[Playful Land – Bazaar]

Lilia: ...AH! ORTHO, CHECK THAT OUT!

Ortho: EH!?

Ortho: THAT!? …WAIT, WHAT THING!?

Lilia: When I say that, I of course, mean that. The ever exciting…

Lilia: GIFT SHOP!!!

Ortho: A gift shop…? Ah, I see it. They have a lot of character merchandise and sweets on display.

Ortho: It's probably a little too early to even think about going home yet… But are you thinking of looking at souvenirs already?

Lilia: Mhm. So actually, last night I tried to invite Silver and Sebek here too, but…

Lilia: Neither of them had the slightest interest in skipping school.

Lilia: Malleus had gone off somewhere on his own again, so I couldn’t find him. I wasn't able to invite him at all.

Lilia: That's why I thought I'd at least bring home some souvenirs from Playful Land for them.

Ortho: I'm sure if you got them special Playful Land merch, it'll be just like they came here with you.

Ortho: In general, the souvenir shops get crowded near closing time, so…

Ortho: The risk of the item you wanted selling out, or rushing and forgetting to buy something you wanted may increase.

Ortho: I've decided! I'll shop for souvenirs with you, Lilia-san.

Lilia: Good. Then, let's go on a little treasure hunt!

Ortho: They have chocolate crunch, cookies, and candy… They have the whole array of standard theme park fare.

Lilia: These are marshmallows, hm. I'm not really a fan, but the package is so cute that I'm seriously considering it.

Ortho: Ah! This pasta snack is made into the shapes of the Friendly Fox and Gentle Cat.

Ortho: This looks easy to eat even while gaming… I think I'll get this for my brother.

Fellow: Well, well, what a discerning eye you have, young scholar! That pasta snack is the third most popular gift here.

Gidel: … [nods]

Ortho: Fellow-san, and Gidel-san! You surprised me showing up out of the blue.

Lilia: It's usually my forte to catch others unawares, but… Looks like you've won this time.

Ortho: You said the pasta snack is the third most popular, right? So then…

Ortho: The assortment tin that had plain cookies in the shape of the Friendly Fox and cocoa cookies in the shape of the Gentle Cat must be the second popular!

Ortho: And the chocolate crunch with 12 different kinds of little charms randomly thrown in must be the first popular!

Ortho: …Is my calculated prediction, how did I do?

Fellow: Amazing deduction, young scholar, what keen insight! However… Mmm～ You're just a little off!

Fellow: You're correct about the second popular. However, the first popular is something else entirely…

Ortho: Ehhh～ I was wrong? I chose those based on the rankings of other theme parks in general, though.

Lilia: Kufufu… How naïve of you, Ortho. I knew at a single glance, you know.

Ortho: Eh, really?

Lilia: Mhm. The number one popular souvenir for Playful Land is…

Lilia: WITHOUT QUESTION, THE WHALE FIGURINE!!

Ortho: EEH!?

Lilia: Those raging waves, the violent sprays of water, and the lone figure of the fiercesome whale that opens its mouth widely to swallow everything it can!

Lilia: I'm surprised an amusement park has something of this quality. Isn't this more of a work of art?

Ortho: Hmmm… I do think it's really well made, but… Isn't think too big to even fit in one of the park's lockers?

Ortho: It looks heavy, too, and I don't think it'd be a great souvenir to want to haul home after a long and tiring day at the park.

Ortho: Besides, the scene depicted here is one of the scariest scenes in the Wish Upon a Star story.

Ortho: I can't expect this to be anywhere close to the top of the popularity rankings.

Fellow: Well now, how astounding that this figure caught your eye. You certainly know your stuff!

Fellow: This figure was made as a souvenir for those who have ridden the Expedition Whale ride.

Fellow: The whale's teeth, the waves, and the spray of the water… Everything is so meticulously added down to the smallest detail!

Lilia: As I thought. Come now, Fellow, tell us. Where on the popularity scale does this figure fall!?

Fellow: The rank of this figurine is…

Lilia/Ortho: Is…?

Fellow: Dead last.

Gidel: …

Lilia: DEAD LAST…!?

Fellow: Indeed. Rather, ever since this park opened, never has a guest actually chosen to buy this item.

Fellow: Ortho-kun hit on every possible reason. It's heavy, unwieldly, and above all, terrifying!

Fellow: It seems our pursuit of quality was our downfall. Ahh, how disastrous!

Ortho: That's what I thought… So then, what's the number one popular item?

[Playful Land – Bazaar]

Fellow: Playful Land's number one popular souvenir is… The "apple core" flavored candy.

Ortho: Apple core flavored candy! You mentioned those to us earlier.

Lilia: An apple core flavor is rather unusual. I wonder if it has its own specific tang.

Ortho: Vil-san said that the apple core flavored popcorn just tasted like regular apples…

Ortho: But if you're interested, we can go to Candy Road after this.

Lilia: Mhm. But first, I have to find proper souvenirs to bring home here.

Lilia: Oho, here's a hat that looks like the head of the Friendly Fox! And they have one of the Gentle Cat as well. I need to get both.

Lilia: I'll give these to Silver and Sebek, and for Malleus… I think the goldfish hat would be cute.

Lilia: Oh but wait, would he even be able to wear this with his horns…?

Fellow: Come now, Ortho-kun, you should also pick out something you want. Please take as much as you want home.

Ortho: Thank you! Although, both my carrying capacity and the space available in my room is limited, so I'll have to be more selective in my choices.

Ortho: My brother doesn't really tend to use stationary… Ah, but these might be good!

Fellow: This? Ah, our postcards. They're light, thin, and easy to carry around, so it's perfect.

Ortho: There's a ton of different designs, and there's even some that have a pop-up. I bet my brother would love something like this.

Ortho: It says here that we can drop them off in the mailbox in Gentle Square, but…

Ortho: If I write the address and drop it in the mailbox, will it really reach Night Raven College?

Fellow: Why, yes. It should reach your school in a few days. In addition, it'll come with a special stamp.

Ortho: A special Playful Land stamp! That's super rare and amazing.

Ortho: It'll be a nice little surprise for it to show up in a few days… I think I'll send a postcard to my brother.

Fellow: You sure are rather thoughtful towards your brother, Ortho-kun. Now, what sort of card design are you thinking to choose?

Ortho: There's so many good scenes in Wish Upon a Star, it's hard to decide.

Ortho: This one shows when the Wooden Puppet met the Friendly Fox and the Gentle Cat. Heheh, they're all smiles.

Ortho: It's always great to make new friends. But I think my brother would be more scared that bright and cheerful strangers are coming up to talk to him…

Ortho: This scene of the Old Toymaker and the Wooden Puppet dancing looks really fun too…

Ortho: The card with the scene where they're searching for a whale at the bottom of the ocean is really interesting with these little moving fish and shells.

Ortho: And this hologrammed card is… The scene of the miracle of when the Wooden Puppet became a real boy.

Ortho: Hrrrrm… There's so many that it's hard to choose, but…

Ortho: If I have to pick one to send to my brother, then it has to be this one!

Fellow: Have you made your decision? If so, then please, use our counter available for you in the back to write your message.

Ortho: Thank you! I picked out the card, alright, but now what about the message?

Ortho: If I write about how I had fun hanging with Vil-san and Lilia-san, that may go into too much detail and may hamper his ability to read everything.

Fellow: Oh my, is there that much you wish to write about? I'm so honored that you have enjoyed Playful Land so dearly.

Fellow: Sure hope your postcard actually arrives where you need it to safely～

Gidel: … [nods with smirk]

Ortho: Yeah! …Oh right, I'll write down about the Playful Stage performance.

Ortho: With all that singing and dancing… I had such a great time!

[Ignihyde Dorm - Idia's Room]

Ortho: Nii-saaan, you have a package. It's that thing you mail ordered, and… Ah, this is…

Ortho: As I thought! It's the post card I sent out from Playful Land!

Ortho: All of my souvenirs were left with the amusement park, so I had completely given up hope that this card would ever show up…

Ortho: What a surprise that it actually arrived here safely!

Ortho: I wonder if Fellow-san sent it for me? That must mean they made it safely to some other town.

Ortho: …That was really an ordeal, but I guess it still made for a good memory.

Ortho: I sure hope my brother likes the postcard I chose.

Ortho: Similar to how the Wooden Puppet and the Old Toymaker used their wisdom and courage to escape the belly of the whale like in this postcard art...

Ortho: As long as me and my brother join forces, we can take on quests of any difficulty.

Ortho: That's why next time, I really hope we'll be able to go to an amusement park together!

[coffee-in-europe]

january: black-and-white films, old records, red lipstick, classical music, gold earrings, city lights, garnet clothing, champagne, glitter, russian literature, snowstorms, art galleries, dimly lit restaurants, high-heels, chickadees, frosted windowpanes, silk shirts, espresso, pomegranates, snowy owls

february: candy hearts, roses, grapefruit, trench coats, mittens, dark chocolate, calligraphy, sealed envelopes, vanilla cake, ballet, romance films, chandeliers, late-night phone calls, musicals, aurora borealis, marshmallows, pink lipgloss, poetry, freesia, movie theatres, ballads, pressed flowers, stained glass, teacups

march: dark comedies, photo albums, lemons, cold rivers, baking, tidying, colouring, movie marathons, nonfiction books, newspapers, clovers, train rides, fashion magazines, pasta, orchids, podcasts, houseplants, sketchpads, yogurt, celestial art, bubble baths, charcuterie boards, moonlight, ice floes, crystal glasses, coffee dates

april: disney cartoons, rubber boots, tulips, mauve nailpolish, fresh vegetables, cold rain, journals, lavender, fresh eggs, pink blush, birdsong, morning frost, rosemary, tulips, foggy mornings, aloe vera, ponds, herbal tea, puddles, lilies, bunnies, floral sheets, marmalade, pastoral novels, frogs, english custard, lily pads

may: picture books, daisies, farms, warm breezes, cherry blossoms, early mornings, fresh-baked bread, gardening, childhood reminiscing, dandelions, honey, meadows, hummingbirds, butterflies, rainbows, sugar cookies, polaroid cameras, wild mushrooms, carnations, frescoes, silver lockets, brown bears, pancakes, rivers, greenhouses, white sheets

june: jean shorts, pop music, white wine, beach days, yoga, sunday brunch, ice cream, concerts, wildflowers, fluffy clouds, morning dew, cotton candy, turtles, popsicles, kayaks, watermelon, pineapples, vineyards, sparklers, bicycles, denim jackets, swans, asphodels, cocktail parties, gooseberries, lilacs, hollyhocks

july: adventure stories, oranges, lakehouses, campfires, festivals, disco nights, strawberries, figs, starry skies, iced coffee, fireworks, street markets, bumblebees, trumpet vines, strappy sandals, sunglasses, patio lights, linen, denim skirts, pizza, fruit smoothies, pizza, rainstorms, peaches, lagoons, white dresses, astronomy

august: golden sunlight, nostalgia, willow trees, nature poetry, sunrises and sunsets, picnic baskets, sunflowers, crickets, cicadas, colourful quilts, cherries, rolling hills, maxi-dresses, tall grass, dragonflies, crochet, renaissance art, vine tomatoes, overalls, roadtrips, hammocks, sunhats, waterfalls, tabby cats

september: coffee, book piles, croissants, long walks, classic novels, braided hair, notebooks, film festivals, apples, pears, farmers markets, forests, jigsaw puzzles, owls, tortoiseshell glasses, orchards, library cards, foxes, tweed blazers, climbing ivy, tea kettles, maple syrup, goldenrod, lanterns, waffles, boardgames

october: pumpkin patches, black turtlenecks, ginger pastries, fireplaces, wet leaves, ankle boots, corduroy, birch trees, cafés, bookshops, castles, caramel, rainy mornings, blustery nights, town fairs, countryside walks, cinnamon, nutmeg, old houses, black cats, bakeries, creeks, thick blankets, city blocks, white chapels

november: candles, red wine, ancient ruins, greek mythology, second-hand books, plaid blankets, mahogany nailpolish, mystery novels, museums, burgundy sweaters, dinner parties, gemstone rings, icy breath, black coffee, language studies, antique shops, white roses, cobblestones, lace, cathedrals, firewood, audiobooks, crescent moons

december: soft snowfall, christmas carols, pine scent, wool socks, irish stew, fairy lights, thick books, fantasy stories, throw pillows, shortbread, comfort films, window shopping, scarves, icicles, peppermint, carrot noses, angels, hot chocolate, skates, pinecones, caribou, gingerbread, crackling fires, hot toddies, cashmere

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Any more As Yet Unread or HRH?

Here is the next part of HRH, anon.  

Kudos to @claryclark, @smashing-teacups, and @notevenjokingfic for not letting me quit on this thing, and for helping me find a voice with it again.

;nsfw under the cut

Part I: The Crown Equerry | Part II: An Accidental Queen | Part III: Just Claire | Part IV: Foal | Part V: A Deal | Part VI: Vibrations|Part VII: Magnolias| Part VIII: Schoolmates | Part IX: A Queen’s Speech | Part X: Rare | Part XI: Watched | Part XII: A Day’s Anticipation | Part XIII: The Location | Part XV: Motorcycle | Part XV: Cabin | Part XVI: Market

Her Royal Highness (H.R.H.)Part XVII: Stables

Folded against the warmth of Fraser’s leather jacket with her legs on either side of his hips, it was easy for Claire to pretend.  That they were not going home (to the Queen’s summer residence), that they were just out for another ride. That the rest of the world just existed as transient wax figures, melting and insignificant.  That their world existed solely in the cabin and that it waited for them just around the bend (the bed, the kitchen, the spot for two in front of the fireplace, the shower with the slightly mildewed curtain, the soft planks of the small deck off the rear of the structure).

They were a couple meant not to be seen, not to be heard, but just to exist together as one.  Claire indulged the fantasy as she closed her eyes, felt his fingers wind through hers when her grip slackened around his waist.

“Ye alright?” he asked, grip pulsing as he slowed to let another vehicle pass on the narrow road.  She turned her hand so they were palm to palm.  She pressed the very tip of her index finger to the thin, throbbing skin of his wrist.

“Better than just fine,” she said, attempting to sound strong, reassured, confident (and failing in actually being any of those things).

He lifted her hand, kissed the place where a fortune teller’s thumbs would divine a destiny for her if she were the kind of woman to frequent such a place, and then carefully situated it over his stomach.  “No’ much further.”

She closed her eyes, drawing herself to Fraser’s back as tightly as possible.  The nearness of home was precisely what she feared most.

Claire’s first glimpse of the palace’s exterior alone was as effective as a bucket of ice water sluicing down her spine.  The sensation jarred her out of the two and a half days of their cabin tryst and back to reality.  She tucked herself further into the warmth of his jacket as they came around a bend and through a grove of trees, trying not to count their remaining minutes of anonymity.

The motorcycle ground to a stop, kicking up an opaque earth-flavored plume of beige dust around them.  It was like the world knew they needed obscurity just a few moments longer.

With her cheek against his back, Claire concentrated on the indistinct perimeter of gravel and unkempt clover (it had overtaken the grass in a whimsical, fairytale kind of way).  After a series of heartbeats, long enough that Jamie wondered if he had imagined the whole thing (the weekend – their trip to the market, a car ride, cooking side by side, excavating the shape of her body from beneath bedsheets), Claire moved.

He reached for her waist to steady her as she threw one leg over the motorcycle. His hand fit there just as it had over and over again that weekend.  The pleasure and warmth of the touch, though, made her heart flutter and then morph into the ghost it would be until she could see him again.

“Tomorrow?” she inquired hopefully, letting a finger catch a curl just above his collar as her eyes darted around the stables.  All it would take was the attention of some well-meaning employee who had become a weekend straggler for the plume of dust to settle, for things to change. She was fully aware of this fact when she touched him (hand hesitating only momentarily), but Fraser could sense the conflict in her.  It dwelled in the oaky bite of her amber eyes, between the arches of her well-manicured eyebrows, in the tremor in her fingers as she touched his nape.  To be caught would mean there was no need to skulk around with one another, to make plans under the cover of a dusky dinner time after everyone had left for the evening.  Being caught would be freedom itself.

But no one was there to catch them, to disrupt her pre-packaged life and his mundane post-war subsistence.

Claire’s other hand curled around Fraser’s shoulder. She longed to feel his heartbeat under her cheek as she slept, to wake to his hulking form over her as he kissed the delicate, almost-avian swoop of her neck.

‘Come find us,’ she thought somewhat ruefully, able to picture completely the face of someone on her staff seeing her like this. ‘See us.  Have the bravery to open your bloody mouth. Tell everyone the queen’s shagging the Crown Equerry.’

“Tomorrow we can ride,” she supplied.  “Find a quiet corner of the grounds.”

A pause to ready him for a confession.

“I want to be with you more than just in secret, but we…”

Fraser’s affirmative sound was low, gravely in his throat before he turned to excavate her handbag from the depths of the motorcycle’s saddle bag.  Suddenly having no choice but to acknowledge the impending loss bubbling a quiet brew in her belly, Claire tightened her grip on him.  

‘Stay, stay, stay with me,’ she yearned to plea.  ‘Just come up there with me.  To my room, those halls.  They can’t say ‘no’ to me.  They won’t say ‘no’ to me.  You aren’t ready, and I know that.  You never will be ready, the people of this country will never be ready, so let’s do it.  Now.  Why wait?’

“This weekend,” Fraser began as he pushed an errant curl from the center of her forehead, “has been sae perfect, Claire.”

“I…”  

Her voice trailed, fading into the narrow plume of exhaust that was slithering out of the motorcycle’s tailpipe.  Words felt just as toxic, and she choked not on tears, but the thought of that world back there that they had only just started to construct.  

Jamie could not look at her just then, could not face her.  His eyes did not dart around the perimeter as hers had, but instead they found a spot alongside the building where the clover was growing wild.  He fixed his eyes there as his hand fell away.

“This was the best weekend of my life,” she whispered as a bookend to make her feelings clear (they could not be any clearer). She bent to touch his stubbled cheek with her lips one final time.

He made a sound, low and indistinct (certain, reciprocal).

‘Again with that noise,’ she thought. It was a white-hot tone originating from somewhere ancient, surely not from him. (But he didn’t need to say anything at all.)

His vocal cords were paralyzed, useless appendages for a beat, until he croaked, “Me too.”

The sun had begun its descent, the bottom curve just barely tucked beneath the line of the horizon.  The weekend was at its end, the summer-bloated sun finally giving way to the chill of nightfall.

It was time to go (to return to a place she did not belong, never belonged, but she would somehow remake in time – remake it to create a space shaped for him, shaped for her), so she bade him farewell in the only way she knew how.  It was the only way that would stop her from clearing the lump in her throat and asking him to take her upstairs.  She kissed him (hard, firm, fully).  The shape of his mouth, the taste of it, the responsiveness of it from that first night that felt like an occurrence centuries old just then were all memories.  She knew it (that mouth, his breath, what it did to her, what it did to him), but she wanted the memory to be fresh.  A breathless, aching, swollen reminder of it to carry with her on the short walk back to her cage. So he urged his lips apart, though but he did not kiss her back (could not kiss her back). His lips had died a slow death as they crossed the city limits, the realization dawning in him that this right here (born in the stables, tended on horseback, blooming in the cabin) was sacrosanct, cloistered, and perfect.  

And it would change.

Finally, he confirmed their plans with only the barest, whispered “tomorrow.”

Like a gymnast fallen off her apparatus (the tight line of a balance beam to walk, the unforgiving plane of the vault that threatened her, the uneven bars with a backwards and blind approach), she attempted her maneuver again.

A kiss to draw from Fraser the shine of the man that had pressed her against the wall of a cabin shower just ninety minutes earlier.

The man who looked up at her under a torrent of water, and declared with a blind authoritativeness, “You’re mine. I’m yours.”

The man who made her whimper until she wept with need.  

The man who took the mundane parts of a world it was easy for her to forget even existed (the unity in a simple pre-work chore of making a bed scented like their lovemaking, in shopping with a squeaky trolly for produce and tinned fruits, in filling of the tank on a vehicle as she dabbed a fresh coat of lipstick in the rearview mirror with the preternatural tingle of anticipation that in short order he would suck it clean off her mouth) and made it a technicolor dreamworld.

This time, his lips animated and molded to hers.  

He kissed her back.  

Long and hard; searing, but in no way final.

It ceased to be an exchange between lovers and instead became self preservation.  

Breathless, Claire was the one to pull away, lips heavy and bright with a swelling rush of blood. (A good victory, they both concluded.)

“Tomorrow,” he parroted, his voice firmer.  

Claire wiped her mouth with her sleeve, the glistening evidence of his kiss melting into a secret known only to the exceptionally discrete fibers of her blouse.

“I love you, Fraser.”

His hand fell from her hip to the curve of her bottom.  He smiled, tilting his head.  “And I love you.”

And with that, he watched her walk. Her smart trousers were a little worse for wear (creased, dusty) and her hair whipped free in the light breeze as she unbound it from her scarf. Though she was heading back towards the mottled brick and arched entryways of the castle that she had often described as her cage, she looked lighter somehow.  Like it was not a burden, but instead a challenge.

“Claire,” he called, not bothering to examine his surroundings yet again for company.

For only a second, she peeked at him over her shoulder and ruffled her hair with a roving hand.  She smiled, waved, blew him a kiss.  

Okay.  A look.  It was all he needed.  Yes, okay.

He nodded and watched her turn again.

As she neared the palace, he realized for the first time that while he had her Friday night through Sunday evening, he would be well and truly alone on Sunday night.  It gave him a sudden, sinking appreciation for the things that she had said she would never be able to give him.  

A Sunday dinner, a quiet discussion in bed about what the week ahead would hold.

Doing dishes side by side (he was an egalitarian sort, afterall, being raised by a father who did not mind “women’s work” and was the brother of a woman fiercely invested in equal sharing of a household’s day-to-day maintenance).

The radio would be turned low to a station that did not quite come in.  

To the crackling song, they would hum or sing, sway in time to a familiar rhythm.

Early in the evening, he would make love to her with his hands revealing all the hills and valleys and quiet lochs of her, the sounds that he could elicit with a touch, a caress, a kiss, a lick.  

The news would come on the radio.  

They would listen half-heartedly, playing naked with a deck of cards so fresh that they snapped and cracked when shuffled.

He would tell her everything.

(That he loved her.  That he was damaged, and how he came to be that way.  That something about her made him not see the world through a pinhole for the first time in a very long time.  That he was so glad that he could tell the world about them, about her - a woman so insightful and funny without meaning to be that it stole his breath.)

He would tell her everything.  

And without him asking (he never would), she would take it from him, bear it for not more than a moment on her narrow shoulders, and then let it go for the both of them.

And then he would make the paintbrush of her hips move in arcs across their shared bed linens again.  To create a piece of abstract art that only they could know. He would take her at his leisure, sinking his fingertips into the modeling clay of her hips and arse and covering the softest parts of her with his mouth again and again, just as he had that first time.

When it was time for them to grow their family, he would measure her belly with his hands and lips.  Rub her feet after a long afternoon.  He would perhaps take a second job.  He would insist on being in the room when she went into labor, to hold her hand and brush the curls from her forehead, to catch her eye and promise that it would be okay.

She was almost to the door of the palace in her wretched, wrecked pants.

He blinked.  

A searing burn and then an ache: They would not have those things.

He did not begrudge her it.  (Her life. Her birthright.)  He could not because he had known the weight of her title the moment he saw her turn around in the stables that night. He knew that it was unfair to resent a status that she could neither dispose of easily or help. But the depth with which the realization struck him – fast, hot, like a poker.  

Clearing his throat, he drove away well before he could see her cross the threshold of her cage.

In bed that night, simultaneously too hot and too cold (sweating, shivering), he tried to ignore the things that took him over.

The hollowness in his chest.

Their first night together when Claire mumbled in her sleep and fussed with the covers, a sheet slipping free from her form to expose the soft peak of a breast.  

The ridiculous amount of butter and jam she smeared on her toast, and the way she turned a spoon about her tea cup three times counterclockwise and once clockwise.  

The splitting apart of her face as he commented on the jam, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as one small hand offered him a bite.

The hardening of his cock, unbidden, at the thought of her whispering to him in the night about the ways that he made her ache, the confession that she had touched herself thinking of him before their weekend together.

The way she had marveled at the market over the mundanity of things like tinned peaches and stale, pre-packaged biscuits.

When he woke it was as though he had not slept at all.

He was living with a secret so broad, growing at all times, that it made him wonder if his body had seams.  A zip along his spine and at the back of his calves.  A line of snaps along the curve of his skull that he could open at his leisure to relieve the pressure.

By Monday morning, a cold shower and aspirin were not enough to staunch the bulbous ache growing in his head.  

He spent the day doing paperwork and waiting for someone to declare knowledge of his weekend activities.  

When finally asked (“what did ye get up to this weekend, boss?”), he made bland comments about some time at a family cabin.  

He wondered, tearing into a ham sandwich and apple at lunch, whether he felt somewhat like what a robber feels.  The knowledge of a heist, clandestine and forbidden, becoming a persistent niggling begging to break free. Wiping crumbs from the front of his shirt, he saw her.  

Mrs. Fitz.

With her watery eyes and toddling steps.  

He knew (just knew) what was in the note clutched in her pale fingers before he opened it.

Her writing.  The Queen’s writing.  Not Claire’s writing.

Been detained for now.  

Tuesday?

It is supposed to be a nice night.  

Perhaps a good night for a ride?

& always,

C.

He ran a finger along the clean line where the note had been folded.  Where her fingers had pressed down.  

Was she hesitating to meet? Had regret consumed her such that she had drifted?

Jamie cursed under his breath, closing the note again and nodding to Mrs. Fitz.  Meeting her swimming, faded denim eyes was surprisingly easy, though she did not have the glass face of her Queen. He could not tell what was clicking away behind her inscrutable, lined face.  He nodded.  She took back the note, an act that sent his heart teetering over the edge.

“Did she say when?”  His voice was coarse, somehow disembodied as he acknowledged the truth of their relationship to someone outside of it for the first time.

“Tuesday,” she said evenly, tucking the note into the hip pocket of her smartly-tailored and unseasonably thick wool jacket.

“Aye,” he ground out. “Tuesday.”

But Tuesday brought another visit from Mrs. Fitz.

A second note.  

This one signed much the same, though with an apology (“Duty calls and I am so very sorry, Fraser”).

And then her promise of Wednesday.

And when Wednesday came, she came with company.

An ambassador from a Canadian province or mayor of a Canadian city, he was not sure which, because the sound of his teeth grinding together transformed the introduction into  mere white noise.  He looked at her, shaking the man’s hand.  She was detached but for a flicker, a nod, the press of her palm against back just above the beltline as they inspected the Queen’s stables.

And then, she was proper as a nation could expect of its Queen.

“Colonel Fraser,” she started primly, flicking a stray bit of hay from the elbow of her riding jacket.  “I trust that we have a horse to accommodate our guest?”

“Aye, we do, ma’am.”

As he helped her into the saddle, his hand sculpted itself to the shape of her calf.  He smirked at the sharp intake of her breath, the quick dart of her eyes.  

“It’s no’ verra queenly to touch yer stable lad’s arse.”

“It was not your arse,” she hissed, wrestling the reins from his hand and fighting the urge to slap his hand away as it traveled over the back of her boot to her ankle.

“Ye’ve got a good fit for a saddle here, ma’am,” Fraser called a little too loudly, his eyes sparkling a little too brightly.

“James Fraser–”

“I’d take ye right here if we werena wi’ an uninvited guest.”  He reveled in the way her cheeks pinked a glorious, embarrassed rose color.

“Fraser.” She was only halfway annoyed, and he was sustained by the fact that he could recognize as much from her face, from the way she shifted slightly in the saddle.

The steed upon which the Queen’s guest was mounted came ambling over.

Giving a weak, two-fingered salute, Fraser bade her a pleasant ride, and retreated to his office.

It wasn’t until Thursday that she made good on the promise to visit.  It was late.  Well after the sinking of the sun and the warming up of a veritable orchestra of summertime insects, and long after any reasonable employee of the Crown had departed for the day.

It was the kind of visit that they had planned when they parted.  Alone and untethered to any sort of duty. At a distance, Claire paused to watch Fraser work. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows and a bead of sweat was coursing down his temple.  He looked roguish in a movie star way, a little too intense in his work and maybe a bit dangerous.

“You have not shaved this week, have you?” she finally asked, leaning against the gate of an empty stall.  “I thought as much when I saw you last night.”  

Jamie did not look to her, but his shoulders squared at the soft, conciliatory lilt of her attempt at banter.  

“Are you cross with me, Fraser?  Will you look at me so I can tell?”  She paused (one one thousand, two one thousand, three–), and his head fell as he rested the pitchfork against the wall. “I know I said Monday, and it’s Thursday. So I could not blame you if–”

“Ye verra well could, though,” he interrupted as he pulled shut the feed room door and turned to her.   “Blame me that is.  It’s no’ like I didna ken that ye have duties when I took up wi’ ye.”

“You ‘took up’ with me?” she asked, incredulity sneaking into her voice like a teenager out past curfew.  

“Ye ken what I mean.”

“Are you very cross with me?”

“No, no’ cross wi’ ye, Claire.” It was only half of a lie, for ‘cross’ was different than ‘frustrated with all of this need for you that lives in my guts and makes it hard to breathe.’ Unabashed, he looked her up and down once, twice, three times.  His tongue darted out, inhabited with a mind not entirely its own, and he wet his lips. “More cross wi’ the world, yer majesty, for endeavorin’ to keep us parted.”

He bowed with an exaggerated depth. The gesture drew mad, barking laughter from the pit of her stomach and and she strode towards him.  She was up and into his arms before she could realize that he was closing the distance between them more quickly than her legs could carry her.  With a ragged breath, Fraser consumed anything else she could have wanted to say.  Wound tight around him (arms, legs), she first tasted the salt at the corner of his mouth.

“I wasna kiddin’ when I said it–”

“Here?” she breathed into his mouth as he backed them through one of the open gates into an empty stall.  

“Aye,” he confirmed, dropping to his knees and easing her onto her back. She was magnetic, undeniable and perfect.     Opening her mouth to lodge some mannerly protest that she did not truly mean, Fraser worked his fingers between fabric and flesh, over the plane of her stomach, and between her legs.  

“I want ye right here.”

She made a sound and fisted his shirt in her hands.

“And from the feel of ye, ye want me to take ye here just fine.”

The space between her brows melted.  In its place was a quiet, determined crease as she ground down against his fingers.  

“I have been wanting this…”  She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, sank her teeth into it only for a moment before continuing as a breathy, but somehow full-formed version of herself.  “Since Sunday night.”

He took it all in, because their three days apart seemed something like a premonition of a longer separation.  

His shirt went taut against his back as she gathered fistfuls of fabric and pulled him closer.

“I’ve wanted ye right here in the stables since ye came clambering in wi’ yer tight pants and pert wee arse.  Where I’ve wanted to have ye since I first saw ye that night.”  Shaking her head as if to say “talk less,” Claire whimpered and let his shirt free so she could reach for his belt.  Just as her fingers slipped the leather free from the buckle, he whispered, “Ye’re mine, ye ken that, aye?”

“And you are mine,” she managed, a bit breathless as his thick, sure ring finger sank into her.  

“Mine.  Mine alone, now and forever,” he continued, one hand going for the waistband of her riding pants and rolling them down.  After a breath and rather indelicate removal of her pants, he looked at her like she was sunlight and summertime itself. With a careful flick of her wrist, she finally freed him of his pants and took him in hand. It didn’t strike her to marvel at the fact that he had somehow toed off his shoes and only had to arch and kick to free his legs from his work pants.  All that mattered was the promised stretch of completion, the weight of him over her, a coarse whisper in her ear to make her moan and writhe.

The Lord’s name tumbled in vain from his lips as he looked down between them where they had both been bared.  Her hand moved again and he shook his head, taking her wrist and firmly holding it over her head, pressing it down into the straw “I mean to use ye hard, my Sassenach.”

“Do it,” she goaded him, smirking and curling her fingers around the thumb he had pressed into the palm of her hand. “Do it now, and don’t be gentle.”

Saying it twice was unnecessary, for he reached between them then and guided himself into her an easy, unyielding thrust. The sense memory of each time they had made love flooded back to her, and when he moved again she choked on her own breath and arched up into him.  

Without her needing to ask him to make good on his promise to use her hard, he did.  Thighs falling further open, she took in his frustration and gave him her own.  When he took her mouth, she sank her teeth into his lower lip and carved half-moons into his shoulder with her fingernails.

He possessed her then, body and soul.  He could see it in her eyes, the way her mouth started to form requests he was already well on his way to fulfill (harder, faster, more), but melted into the sound of her moan as he did the very things she was primed to beg him to do.

When he pulled out suddenly, the wet length of his cock against her thigh as he released her wrist, she started to ask what he was doing, but was interrupted by two firm fingers inside of her.  

“Come for me,” he implored roughly, his fingers searching and stroking her with no small amount of skill.  She was just about to unleash something more coarse than anything she had ever said (“then keep fucking me properly”) when Fraser stroked up, the pads of his fingertips beckoning her to rise (up, up, up).  Her eyes blistered with hot tears as she slapped her hands uselessly down into the straw alongside her thighs.  

Arching up towards him (into the sensation, accepting it with a clenched belly and slackened jaw), she wondered absently if they would always be like this.  As his thumb moved in an arc over her, his assault became twofold, and she concluded that fate had surely mapped out an entire eternity of this for them. He leaned into kiss her gasping, agape mouth, and felt the first tremoring promise of an orgasm ripple down her spine and into his hand.

“Claire,” he whispered, stricken at the sight of her only half-naked yet entirely undone and lovely as she could be. He drew everything she gave from her, and she gave it all. “I’ve missed ye so.”

Her insides had given way to contradiction.  A primal urge to beg him to stop.  A contradictory need to let him know he could never stop.  A desire to touch the planes of his shoulders as he coaxed her trembling body to completion.  A premonition that touching him would sear her hand, sending her into an abyss from which she surely could never return.

All she managed was a wilting plea: “please.”

He slid into her just as purposefully as he had at their first joining, but more gently, reverent somehow.  His thumb did not lose pace or rhythm, but she looked up at him almost desperately as he pressed forward, slid back, and started again.  

More.  Never stop.  I love you.

It was the work of four thrusts to finally finish her, and she felt him everywhere.  

(Rushing out of the pads of her fingers.  Swelling in her belly.  Shimmering up her spine.  Clouding her mind.  Burning behind her eyeballs and blinding her.  Pulsating between her legs. Simmering on her tongue.)

She clutched him, dragged him down, and sank her teeth into his shoulder to keep from screaming.  In the basest part of himself, he wanted her screams to bound off the walls and make his eardrums ache.  He wanted her nails to trace furrows into his already-scarred back.  

Mine.  Yours.  Together.

He spilled into her just as her high ebbed into delirious, taffy-thick stupor.  For her part, Claire cupped the back of his head as he finished and her forehead became the home for his as he bowed his head.  Shifting just enough so that he would not crush her, he fell onto her and heaved a contented sigh.  

“Job well done,” she mumbled after a not insignificant time time had passed with the melding of breath and slowing of hearts.  She kissed his temple, tasting salt and letting her eyes close.

“I work hard in yer stables, yer majesty.”

She chuckled, carding her fingers into his damp curls and not bothering to wonder how exactly she would make her way back up to the palace without looking like she had just been rogered six ways to Sunday in a pile of straw.

It could have been years that they laid there, skin drying and arousal fading, but it was closer to half an hour.  

“It is not entirely uncomfortable, this,” she mumbled, head indicating the pile of straw where they were sprawled out together.  

“It’s no’ just good for soakin’ up horse piss, though I suspect ye’ll be pickin’ bits out of your arse for a week.”  She laughed, deciding that she loved him even when he was unbridled of any sense of propriety and allowed himself to be crass.  Reaching between them, he groaned, “Insatiable.”

She hummed, shrugging noncommittally as she took him into her hand.

One could reasonably anticipate that this would be how HM Queen Claire would be caught with the Crown Equerry.  With their pants in a pile on the floor of the stables and the stable boy buried to the hilt inside of the Queen, there would be little for them to do other than deny what was plainly true.  But they would not be caught making love on the stable floor, nor would they be caught cleaning up and kissing before the Queen walked back to the palace for the night.  No one heard the Queen moan or beg, scream, or cry out.  No one heard the Crown Equerry staking his claim to the woman he loved, giving in to a second, lazy, fatigued round as HM Queen Claire wrapped her mouth around him.

No.  This would not be it – this moment, their reconnection, their bodies’ work to release the frustration of separation wrought by nothing more than circumstance.

But as James Fraser curled his fingers into his beloved’s curls, mumbled her name, and let all worldly thoughts fade, neither knew that they had precious few hours of privacy remaining.

Because their cover was about to be spectacularly blown.

[basil-shipping]

diamond & sapphire w/ denki!! ~Clover♡︎

switching my bnha s/i's first and middle names around because writing about them being named basil was starting to feel a little off.... so their name is emile now! also thank you sm!!!

diamond: how difficult was it to win your f/o's affection? how difficult was it for them to win yours? not long at all for both honestly! denki is a very affectionate kind of person by nature and emile is the same way just a bit more shy about it.

sapphire: does your f/o have anything they want you to do (for them or with them) that you're reluctant about? denki is a huuuge fan of amusement park rides. especially the really tall/fast rollercoasters and rides that fling you haphazardly into the air at nausea-inducing speeds. you can probably guess from my wording that emile is not really a fan of amusement park rides! they're good with the smaller things like bumper cars and spinning teacups but some of the bigger rides make them anxious just at the thought of denki being on them, let alone the thought of being on them personally. (emile usually goes and hangs out near the carnival games whenever the two of them go to an amusement park, and denki absolutely has one of those giant pikachu plushies bc emile won it for him!!)

[gaamagirl565]

Matters of the heart S2 ep 7

Matters of the heart Season 2 Episode 7 How the tides turn Special thanks to @1a-lchemist for help with the Romanian {OPENING CREDITS} {Zapada comes down the stairs to see Isaiah sewing something} Zapada: Copilul meu? Isaiah: Oh! Good morning Zapada! Zapada: what happens here? Isaiah: oh, I’m sewing something for my baby brother or sister! Zapada: May I see? {Isaiah holds up a tiny red bear with jingle bells attached to the limbs} Zapada: Ohhh! Isaiah! That is so…*sobs* Isaiah:...Zapada? {Zapada pulls him into a tight hug} Isaiah: ACK! Zapada: Copilul meu dulce! {Varian walks in with a cup of tea but stops when he sees them} Isaiah: Dad! Wait! Save me! {Varian sneaks back out} Isaiah: Ah!..W-wait!...no! You traitor!! {Varian smirks and goes to walk away when a villager runs through the front door; Varian drops his teacup and Zapada and Isaiah are immediately at attention} Villager: Varian! Sir! Message from the King and Queen! Varian: What’s wrong? Villager: The cult made an unprovoked attack on a neighboring kingdom! Multiple casualties, homes destroyed and crops burnt… {Isaiah gasps and Varian covers his mouth in horror} Varian: a-anything else? Villager: The King and Queen are going with a small group to help aid the survivors. The Queen requests the Royal engineer’s attendance. Varian: Understood. Tell Rapunzel I’m on my way. Villager: As you wish sir. The group will leave at noon. {The villager leaves and Varian hurries over to his desk and begins packing a satchel; Zapada walks over to him} Zapada: Varian? Varian: I don’t understand...they’ve never made an unprovoked attack before… {She takes his hand} Zapada: are you alright? Varian:...I’m...I’m fine…*he brushes her cheek*...I’m just confused and I feel like I could have prevented this... Zapada: Perhaps we have answers when we get there? Varian: We? Zapada: Isaiah and I are going with you! Varian: Zapada no! You’re too heavy with child! I won’t risk losing all of you. Zapada:  Varian! Te iubesc, dar oprește această protejare obsesivă stupidă sau te voi sugruma până la ultima răsuflare!

{Isaiah looks on shocked and Varian shrinks back} Varian: I...Have no idea what you just said but I feel like I should fear for my life... Isaiah: Dad please let the severely hormonal albino lady go with you...I don’t wanna die. Varian: *sigh*....fine Zapada: good...I go pack my saddlebag… {She walks away; Varian slumps against his work bench} Varian:....Get married dad said...it’ll be fun dad said...ugh. {Cut to the forest with Noremoth sitting in a tree with Catalina} Catalina: haha! Stop it! Noremoth: and why would I do that? You make the funniest face! Boop the nose! Catalina: haha...I can’t believe your mission is almost over… Noremoth: yeah… Catalina: You’re gonna come back sometime right? You’re super fun to hang out with… Noremoth:...*sad smile*...Yeah...I’ll be coming back. Keira: Hey love birds! Catalina: Keira! Stop calling us that! We’re not “love birds”! Keira: Whatever, Eugene and Rapunzel need us… Catalina: what for? Keira: that cult attacked another kingdom last night. {Noremoth jumps down} Noremoth: WHAT!? Catalina: You know about them? Noremoth:....yeah… I heard of them...I have to go… {Noremoth runs over and mounts his horse} Noremoth: Catalina it was lovely to meet you...Keira...bye…. {He gallops off; cut to Isaiah on a horse looking conflicted and Eugene notices and rides up next to him} Eugene: Hey kiddo. You alright? Isaiah: yeah...just...I kinda feel like this is my fault. Eugene: W-what? How? Isaiah: I made the cult mad cause I attacked miss Cass...and then she attacked me and now I have some of her power. And...now they’re attacking innocent people and it’s all because they want the moonstone sliver! {Pink magic crackles around him} Eugene: Hey easy buddy...deep breaths okay? Isaiah: sorry… Eugene: it’s not your fault..these people are...unstable...they’re crazy with anger and I bet half of them aren’t even angry they just are cruel and bloodthirsty. Isaiah: Then how do we stop them? {Rapunzel rides up} Rapunzel: With Corona spirit! Eugene: Sunshine! Rapunzel: We’ll all get through this...it may seem bleak and hopeless at times but as long as we have each other and keep the faith we’ll make it through. {Isaiah smiles at her} Eugene: Oh my god… {Isaiah looks and gasps in horror as they ride up to the kingdom; in the distance, Noremoth rides over a hill and sees the carnage and looks shellshocked; the place is practically burnt to the ground with people trying to dig through the remains and set things back in place} Varian:...They’ve never gone this far. Rapunzel:...Varian go with Eugene and help make plans to rebuild, Angry and Catalina look for survivors, Zapada and Isaiah you can help the wounded, I’m going to go find the leader here and get what happened. All: Yes you’re majesty… {Everyone goes to do their respective jobs and of in the background Noremoth skulks in the shadows looking at the destruction in utter horror} Noremoth:...I don’t understand...why did they…? {He steps on something and it crunches; he lifts his foot and picks up a singed toy wooden horse; his eyes widen and he drops it and covers his mouth as he runs over to a wall and gags; after a few moments he just rubs his head against the stone wall} {begin song “fighting”} {NOREMOTH} So many things happen in a year

But mostly bloodshed paints all my time I watch eyes fill with fear So many things in my life I regret but still I’m fighting So many days I wondered “was my birth a crime?” But as I grew I realized my only crime

Was being an orphan! “A drain on society” “a filthy pest” Well maybe now they’ll feel Remorseful.  As I run my sword through their chest So many times I wonder is it worth it? To keep on going or to give up and die. My existence until now had no meaning. So why? Why do I keep Fighting!? I see the destruction that I cause and kills me It kills me deep inside. I hear children cry the same cry I did I wish to help but my hands are tied I ask in my mind that they forgive me. So why? Why do I keep fighting? Oh, why? I’m fighting… But why...do I still fight?

{End song with Noremoth wiping his tears and overhearing talking and he lurks closer in the shadows to evesdrop} Kingdom leader: It was just terrible you’re majesty...we stood no chance… Rapunzel: Just take a breath and try to explain it. Kingdom leader: Well they came in the middle of the night... none of us were expecting them.  they were like animals.  setting fire to everything, pillaging,  they killed a great many of us,  but I know what they mainly wanted, they broke into the treasury of our kingdom... they took so much I fear for my people… there was one woman who I assume is the leader once she had what she needed from our Treasury she told her band to retreat... but by then... the damage has already been done. {Noremoth growls with anger and slinks away} Rapunzel: I assure you Corona will do whatever they can to help this Kingdom get back on their feet… Kingdom leader: Thank you, your majesty… {Cut to evening and Isaiah walks over to a basin and washes blood from his hands with a sigh} Varian: Hey buddy… Isaiah: Dad… {Isaiah hugs Varian and snuggles into his torso} Varian: Rough day? Isaiah: a lot of these people are really hurt...Dad, why are people so mean? Varian:...That...That’s a good question, buddy. And unfortunately, I don't think anyone will ever have the answer to that one. {Zapada walks over} Zapada: Isaiah was quite the little helper today... he helps me tend a lot of burns and cuts today. He’s a little hero. Varian:  tell me something I don't already know. {Isaiah smiles and suddenly Zapada jumps and grabs her stomach} Zapada: Oh! Varian: Zapada!? Are you alright!? Zapada: I’m fine!...little one is kicking me!..wanna feel? {Isaiah nods and gently puts his hand on her stomach} Isaiah: ….wow...hi there!... Varian: we still need to decide on a name… Zapada: we said Clover for girl...we need boy name. Isaiah: I got one! Varian: Oh ho...really? Let’s hear it. Isaiah: Sterling! Zapada: Sterling? Varian: Like sterling silver? Pfft.. {Zapada smacks his vest} Varian: OW! Zapada: act nice! Isaiah: *laughs* {Cut to the Cult HQ where Larkspur sits drinking from a goblet; Noremoth then storms in and walks up to her} Noremoth: YOU HEARTLESS WENCH! Larkspur: Well you're back... how was your mission did you learn any valuable information? Noremoth: Yeah I learned your backstabbing cutthroat! Larkspur: oh am I now? Noremoth:  you knew I would never agree with a plan to pillage and commit genocide Larkspur:  I wouldn't call what we did “genocide”. {Noremoth slaps the drink from her hand} Noremoth:  what would you call it then!?  did you even see what you left behind!?  both men, women, and children slaughtered like pigs!  when I joined this movement I joined because I too wanted to see a new world order and I also wanted Corona to pay for what they did to me.  I did not join to slaughter countless innocent civilians.  do we even need the money you stole!?   or was this just a little fun Rendezvous for you!? Larkspur: you know how the men can get...they tend to get a little tense when they haven't battled something in a while.  and our vessel did need the exercise. I needed to make sure her powers were still at full potential.  well potential enough without the moonstone that is. Noremoth:  this is not what we originally stood for. Larkspur: is that so?  and pray tell how do you plan to fix it in your little mind? {Noremoth unsheathes his swords} Noremoth:  it's time we got back on track. Larkspur:... are you truly sure you want this, Norie? {Noremoth swings his sword at her and she blocks it with her dagger} Larkspur:  you filthy bugger… {Larkspur shoves him away and they circle one another} Larkspur: who would have thought this is how it ends? you know I did like you, Noremoth. Noremoth:  no you didn't…. {she shoots some throwing knives at him; he deflects them with his sword and charges her; Cassandra hears the fighting from her cell} Cassandra: What the hell? Larkspur: Urgh! Noremoth:  you know I always wondered why you never listen to me but now that I'm fighting you I think I finally understand. Larkspur:  oh really? Noremoth:  your pathetic little girl who's had nothing go right for her in life.  what's wrong mommy and daddy didn't love you enough? {Larkspur charges with a scream and swings down at him; they lock swords} Noremoth: admit it I'm right! aren't I!?  you're pathetic and scared, and were pushed around all your life!  you put on this front acting like you care but in reality, you don't care at all you just want everyone to suffer under your thumb for the crappy hand you were dealt!  you're no better than a whiney child! {Larkspur punches him and Noremoth falls back on the ground; Larkspur goes to jump on him with a knife and cuts his arm but he kicks up and flips her over; Larkspur lands harshly on the ground} Larkspur: AUGH! {Noremoth gets up and points his sword at her and wipes the blood from his lip} Noremoth:  as I said before...  pathetic. you don't even know how to fight. Larkspur: ….. that maybe but I do have one thing that you will never have… Noremoth:  and that is? {suddenly swords are at his throat with cult members surrounding him} Larkspur:  I have faithful followers… Cult member 1:  what should we do with him, Mistress? Larkspur: Throw him in the dankest little cell that we have here... and let him rot for the time being... I'll figure out what to do with him eventually… Cult member 1:  yes mistress… {The grab Noremoth and drag him away} Larkspur: Buh-bye Norie… {He’s taken to a cell and harshly thrown in; Cassandra looks up and sees him in the cell across from her; Noremoth groans and clutches his injured arm; Cassandra tears part of her clothes} Noremoth: Urgh!... Cassandra: Hey!... {Noremoth looks up and sees her toss some bread with a cloth wrapped around it to his cell} Cassandra: tie the cloth around your arm tightly... it'll stop the bleeding.  and I was saving that bread but you can have it… Noremoth: ...Thank you… {END CREDITS}

[alexandercityborn]

When I was a kid I used to make little alcoves in my backyard for fairies. I thought that if I made enough dandelion piles and acorn teacups they’d peek their little heads out of the oak tree and dine around my feet, sipping dewdrops and eating clover salads and raspberries. One summer, in the heat of June, they trapped me under a pile of rocks and spelled me to dance until the soles of my feet ran raw. “Stop picking the flowers,” they said. “Let them grow wild.” So I stopped cutting the roses and the daffodils and my hair, and instead I offered apple slices and honey and oats at their alter. And I decided to kiss frogs and ride my bike to the muddy creek and play at magic. I tried to forget those beautiful, haunting faces and those iridescent wings and the way their voices rang like bells. I don’t think I’ll ever fall in love again. 

[mistye-dawne]

Finding the Words

Summary: A chance meeting while taking a break from her team sends Lucy and Laxus into unfamiliar territory as Lucy tries to find balance between catering to her team and moving forward with her own life, while Laxus fights his demons and struggles to accept that he just might be good enough to have the girl of his dreams.

Also on FF.net

Chapter 1: Storm in the Clearing

"To all passengers, the train will be arriving at Clover Town in twenty minutes. To those seeking passage back south..."

Stirred by the too cheery voice over the train intercom, Lucy opened her eyes to see the barren plateaus that lead into Clover Town. She sat up and straightened her back groaning with content as it popped several times. The celestial mage brushed her hand over Horologium's key and the spirit informed her that it was ten past eight. Lucy wasn't due to meet with the client for her mission until nine which left her with just enough time to stop and grab a small breakfast before getting down to work. She grabbed one of two novels that she'd brought and opened it to where she left off for the remainder of the train ride.

Wearing a pair of comfortable dark jeans tucked into her favorite pair of black combat boots and a cobalt blue halter top under a simple black leather jacket, Lucy stepped off the train and shivered slightly at the odd chill in the air. Summer had just begun in Fiore but she blamed the chill on the storm that the town was expecting to hit in the next day. Her job was simple and she was confident that she'd make it back to town before getting caught in it. Not that she'd mind too much, as the celestial mage felt an odd comfort during thunderstorms and the like. It would just make her job a tad easier if she didn't have to travel on foot in the rain.

Lucy zipped up her jacket and tucked her hands into the pockets as she strolled to a small cafe and picked up a warm crescent roll for breakfast. The buttery and flaky pastry had the blonde smiling and humming in delight. She took note of the name and promised herself to stop by before leaving town to actually sit and enjoy the atmosphere. When she came up to the client's shop Lucy was greeted by kind looking middle aged man with salt and peppered hair named Mathis. With a smile he invited her to the back of the shop for some tea before they started talking about the job.

"How would you like your tea, Miss?"

"It's Lucy, just Lucy please," she smiled, "and I'll have honey in mine please."

The celestial mage eyed the shelves lined with countless jars of herbs, wondering what each one could be used for. She'd spent enough time with Wendy to learn that some plants could be turned into a number of healing ointments and medicines. Lucy always loved to hear the young dragon slayer talk animatedly about some of the things that she learned from Porlyusica and even committed some of those things to her own memory.

Mathis' eyes followed the mage's gaze and placed a cup in front of her. "Do you know much about herbal medicines, Lucy?"

She brought the tea to her nose and smiled when jasmine and honey flooded her senses "I don't," she shook her head, "but a dear friend of mine does. I'm only familiar with the few I've seen her work with or what she's talked about."

"I see. Has she worked with Belladonna Lilies before?"

"Isn't Belladonna also called Deadly Nightshade?"

"That it is and it is also toxic to humans if handled incorrectly," he chuckled at her confusion. "There is a method called decoction that makes the plant safe for me to use. In layman's terms, I mash the roots, or whatever part of the plant I'm using, and then boil them down to make an extract. This extract is a concentrated liquor which I sometimes sell as is or use it to create tinctures."

Lucy had another sip of her tea and leaned closer to Mathis to show her interest in the conversation. No, she didn't plan on becoming an herbalist but much like her mother before her, she was happy to have a chance at learning something unfamiliar to her. "So what is Belladonna used for?" she asked.

Seeing the gleam in the mage's eyes, the herbalist smiled, "Belladonna is most commonly used to alleviate motion sickness, nausea, and menstrual cramps." Lucy's eyes grew wide as she straightened herself before Mathis continued. "By now I'm sure you've gathered that this is the plant I need you to collect for me."

"Is it dangerous to harvest what you need? The reward seems a little high for just collecting a plant."

"The plant is only dangerous if ingested, I assure you. It might seem like I'm offering too much," the man shrugged, "but there are a few things that you need to be aware of before you leave. Do you have a map with you? Your job will be much easier if I can mark where I need you to go."

"Of course," she answered, pulling the folded paper from her pack and offering it to him. Lucy watched him draw the path she would need take from the edge of town through the plateaus to get her to the forest southeast of town, and then mark what she assumed to be the spot where she would find the plant.

"It isn't far into the forest but I must caution you," his voice becoming grave, "there have been sightings of wyverns further south into the forest, closer to Akane. Now, I've heard that there was a job accepted recently to clear them out. I don't want to give you any reason to worry but it is possible that they might have fled north, so please be careful."

Lucy smiled gently, "I promise to take caution. And thank you for the warning."

"Indeed," he nodded. "When you get to the clearing the plants should be lining the edges, underneath the trees, they prefer the shade. I only need the leaves and stems of the plant so you'll have to remove any flowers or berries that if any remain on the plants. You may cut them all the way down to the root but try to only harvest the full grown plants. They'll be about a meter tall."

"Is there anything else I need to know?"

"That's everything I have to tell you," Mathis said shaking his head. He removed the empty teacups and watched the celestial mage.

Lucy took another look at the map and then up a clock on the wall. It was half past nine and gauging the distance on the map it would only take her a couple of hours to reach the clearing, provided she wasn't attacked by anything and the weather held up. She'd aim to be there sometime in the early afternoon. Returning the parchment to her bag and then shouldering it, Lucy told him of her tentative plan.

"If the weather holds up and nothing hinders me into forest, I should be reach the clearing in the early afternoon. I plan to be back in town before dark but if I'm later than that, I'll send one of my spirits to inform you that I am safe and well."

Mathis smiled and nodded, "I'd appreciate that very much. I'd hate if something were to happen while simply collecting the plants for me."

Lucy turned to leave but paused before entering the storefront. "Was there something else Lucy?" She bit her lip and wondered if it would be appropriate at ask him for anything with the reward being so high for the simple task she was to complete.

"Umm, I was wondering if it I could ask you for a tincture. I have several friends who could benefit from it if I had it available. I'm willing to give up some of the reward even-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Lucy," Mathis scoffed. "I'll have one prepared by the time you return, as thanks for sitting with an old man for a short while. Stay safe now, Lucy."

Map in hand, Lucy stopped for a small break before entering of the forest. Another hour or so and she'd reach the clearing. She took a deep breath and looked up to the clouded sky. The noon sun was hidden behind fat grey clouds that seemed ready to burst at a moment's notice and the wind had picked up just slightly. If she didn't dawdle while walking the remaining distance, then she could still at least gather the plants before the storm arrived but her chances looked slim.

Lucy stood and ran her fingers over Pyxis' key. When the spirit assured her that she was facing the right direction she resumed her hike deeper into the forest, her eyes always flicking to the sky and her ears open to any new sounds or lack thereof. She'd spent enough with Natsu to know that you could always hear your surroundings change before you saw them.

While keeping her steady pace, Lucy wondered about what the rest of her team was up to. She was ahead on rent and she had groceries in her apartment. By the time she returned home though, Natsu would have raided her kitchen. With this job at least, Lucy wouldn't have give up any of the reward to cover damage fees. She was giddy at the thought and then immediately the feeling of guilt crept up on her like it had been with every solo mission she'd taken in the past couple months.

The boy was the brother and best friend that would always be there for her. Well, she used to think as much at one time but when he disappeared after the Battle of Tartaros Lucy had been left alone. She still had Erza, Gray and the rest of her Fairy Tail family but the loss of Aquarius followed by the loss of her best friend hit her hard and Lucy mourned in her own way. Tired of being left behind, Lucy found solace in isolation. If she was going to get stronger and do things that she wanted to do in life, then she'd do it herself with her spirits at her side. She invested herself into expanding her magic and even learned a new way to wield it so that she was more capable in a fight. Most of her missions were solo ones that she knew she could handle. She didn't dread fighting as much but did avoid it if it were possible. Just because she wanted to be stronger in a fight didn't mean she was going to be stupid about it.

When Natsu returned, she started going on missions again with her old team. It felt nice to be together with them again but it never quite felt right. Her team even resumed showing up at her place randomly and after a year of catching up on money she owed and then actually getting ahead, it was starting to dwindle after only a few months of her team being together again. Lucy had changed during that year and felt the pull of her team wanting her former self back but the celestial mage could never go back to that time. She didn't want to.

As her thoughts and emotions started to run rampant, a familiar glow appeared beside her and she cocked her head slightly to greet her ever faithful lion. "Hey Loke!" she beamed.

The lion smiled and brought her hand to his lips causing her to roll her eyes. "Something troubling you, Princess?" he laughed.

"Just thinking. I promise."

"About?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"Nosy lion," Lucy said narrowing her eyes as he shrugged.

"I just know that when you get too lost in thought when you're alone, you doubt yourself." He waited for her to protest but she never did. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to but I'm here, Lucy. I'm here so you won't be alone." She giggled and linked her arm with his.

"I was thinking about how much my life has changed in the past year."

"You've certainly grown stronger."

"It's not just about my magic training," she shook her head. "It's everything, I think. Ugh... there's just a lot and I don't know what's good or bad."

"Listen to me, Lucy. You're amazing at multi-tasking and thinking on your feet but only when you've got your head on straight. Slow down, take a deep breath and just let everything fall into place as it normally is."

Trusting her spirit to guide her and not let her fall on her face, Lucy closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. She envisioned everything that was on her mind falling into categorized piles. Then those piles were moved to labeled filing cabinets so that she could quickly pull things out when she needed to. She'd perfected this way of thinking when training with Capricorn, keeping everything present in her mind and bringing to the forefront when she needed but as was natural when her team was involved, things tended to become a mess.

Loke watched his friend in silence as she sorted through the mess in her mind. He knew that she loved her team, too much sometimes but they were the family that she'd lost as a child. He didn't think that she wanted to leave her team behind, but she also didn't want things to return to how they used to be. The celestial lion and her other spirits had been worried that she would shut them out losing Aquarius but their celestial mage surprised them when she refused to let guilt take over her life. Yes, she'd been heartbroken at the loss of a friend but she worked through it and most importantly, she didn't do it alone. She let him and the others come forward to train her and comfort her when she needed it.

"I need my team to know what I want," she spoke softly, bringing his attention back to her.

"And what would that be, Princess?"

"I don't need to always be with the team. Yes, I missed the adventures we would go on and while I could have continued that with Erza and Gray, I made the choice to isolate myself a bit. Maybe it wasn't the right choice but it was the choice I made. I enjoy the solo missions even the occasional ones with Cana and Levy. Those are always fun," Lucy said thinking about the late nights they had spent gossiping about anything and everything and decided that she wanted to do that again soon. "Besides," she smiled, "I'm never really alone when on a solo mission."

Loke threw his arm over her shoulder and smiled down at her. "That will always be true."

"I'm not leaving the team because I really do still want to go on missions with them. I just feel," she paused trying to find the proper words for her thoughts.

"Like you're suffocating."

"Yeah, that's it," she confirmed. Lucy thought back to when she first joined Fairy Tail. That had been over two years ago now, well two for her and seven for the rest of the world. So much had happened in that first year, too much almost. Before the guild, before Natsu, she was nothing more than a runaway heiress. When he brought her to the guild, she'd found the family she'd lost when her mother had died. Then when that same man left, she found herself. Who she wanted to be and how she wanted to live.

"When I first joined the guild, I was overwhelmed with the presence of family. That love and adoration was something I lost when my mother had passed and getting a taste of it when I walked through those doors that first time was beyond addicting. I let myself get caught up in that and I became dependent on the guild. I was chained, Loke, and it broke when Natsu left."

"Chain?"

"A chain that I unintentionally created and attached to the guild. I used to need the guild in a way that wasn't healthy. I felt that losing any one of my family again would kill me. That's why I always tried so hard in everything I did. I wanted to fight for them and protect them but most importantly, I didn't want to be left behind and left alone. I know now that if by some tragedy the guild was disbanded and I was on my own, I'd be okay in the end. Just like when Natsu left, it hurt, but I'm okay now."

"But your friends want you to be more than just okay, Lucy," he stated firmly.

"I know. That's why I need to tell my team that I'm not okay with things going back to how they were. Why I need to not be afraid of being my father's daughter. A woman, who will always state her desires and wishes clearly and with authority. A woman that force herself to be heard when ignored."

"Are you sure that isn't like your mother?" he joked.

"Oh, my mother was plenty headstrong but she did it with grace. Me, I've been told that her kindness is within me and I feel it. Grace though, that just isn't the Fairy Tail way," she laughed. "Thank you, Loke. I feel much better now."

"It's always my pleasure, Princess. If you'd like, I can help you talk to your team."

She pulled them to a stop and shook her head. "No thanks. I need to do it myself so that they know it's something that I mean."

"I understand. Just remember, we're a name away of you need us." The two stood for and took in the unsettling silence. Lucy looked up but only saw the heavy cover of the trees above. "Let's go, I think that storm is moving in faster. He took her hand started off. She kept up easily stepping precisely over roots and ducking under branches.

"We're not far. A couple hundred meters and we'll reach the clearing." A flash and crash of thunder caused both spirit and mage to falter in their rush. "Loke, that wasn't the storm."

"Definitely a mage, I know. Be careful, Lucy." The two came into the clearing and saw a wyvern standing over an injured Laxus Dreyar with a leg poised ready to come down on him. There was another beast not far from him clearly down for the count.

"Stardress, Taurus!" Lucy unfurled her whip and flicked it around the beast's raised leg. Laxus watched her plant herself and pull the whip taunt, preventing him from being crushed by the beast. "Get out of there, Laxus!" He didn't need to be told twice as he staggered to his feet, a hand bracing his abdomen.

Lucy was pulled forward and off her feet just as Laxus moved away from the wyvern. There wasn't much space between him and it though so it pursued, snapping it's jaws. She flicked out her whip again, this time wrapping it around the creature's neck and planted her weight low to the ground. Laxus was impressed with her strength and how quickly to changed tactics when tripped up.

"Loke, now!" she called. The lion's fist was surrounded in bright light as charged at the beast connecting with it's impact caused the the wyvern to waver and it reared its head. Lucy saw an opportunity and pulled her whip bringing the beast to the ground.

"Blondie, drop you whip!" Lucy looked to question him but just dropped the weapon when the hairs on her neck tingle with his magic. She jumped back toward the edge of the clearing a breath before he unleashed his magic on the creature. It let out a bloodcurdling screech then went quiet and completely still. She stepped from the behind the tree she had ducked behind and felt her stomach sink when she saw Laxus collapse.

"Laxus!" She ran to his side and skidded on her knees placing her hands on either side of Laxus' face to make him look at her. "Shit, Laxus. Open your eyes, please." He could hear her pleading but he just couldn't get his body to listen any longer. He'd spent the better part of the morning tracking the missing wyvern only to discover another one when they ambushed him. He was lucky that Lucy showed up when she did or he'd have been worse off.

"Lucy, I'm out of here. Those wyverns are down and out. Call Virgo." Loke said before closing his gate.

Lucy moved her hands from his face to the top of his shirt and ripped it open popping several buttons. Her eyes immediately went to the gash that stretched from his guild mark to the opposite hip. "Virgo, please. I need you." The spirit appeared opposite of her and immediately took charge in bandaging the lightning slayer.

"Princess, you should try to get him talking, Distract him." Lucy nodded and looked back up to his face and lifted his head so that it rested on her lap.

"Laxus, can you hear me?"Her voice was gentle and he wanted so bad to tell her, to see that smile he always saw when she was at the guild.

Laxus felt his mouth open but heard nothing until he felt the freezing burn of disinfectant on his stomach. "Shit!" he hissed and tried to sit up only to be forced down by Lucy pushing his shoulders. Having control of his body again, he opened his eyes and looked up at her shining brown eyes. "Lucy," he could barely whisper.

"That's right," she chuckled, "I'm here. Just focus on me, okay?" He nodded and when she smiled down at him, his breath hitched. There it was, that smile she shared with everyone, only this time it was all his. He wasn't sure why that made him happy but it did and he didn't dare question it. Instead he closed his eyes again and nuzzled her lap, picking up traces of jasmine and honey mixed with her natural scent of sweet strawberries. He stopped and looked back at her when she started laughing. "Slow down, Sparky. You haven't even taken me on a date yet."

"Aren't you supposed to keep me distracted, blondie?" He hissed with clenched teeth when he felt the spirit touch tender spot.

"You're in no condition for that kind of distraction. And like I said, you haven't taken me out yet." Laxus watched her eyes soften then, "What happened Laxus? My client told me about the wyverns that were in the southern part of the forest but I really didn't expect to see them here."

"My team and I took a job just north of Akane to clear them out and drive them east. There were three but one fled so I left my team with the other two and tracked the one. When I caught up to it there was another one with it."

Smiling at him again she shook her head. "Idiot dragon slayer."

"Princess, can you sit him up? He still needs bandages."

"Thanks Virgo, I'll handle that. Would you bring my pack over here? It should be somewhere around here." Laxus hissed as she pulled him to a sitting position and started to wrap his stomach. He was struggling to hold himself up and the way her slightly calloused hands glided over his skin made it hard for him to focus. "You can lean on me, Laxus. I'll hold you up," she whispered. She shifted after she felt his weight shift and resumed her work. She couldn't see what she was doing anymore but was able to finish wrapping him thanks to the gauze Virgo had applied already.

"Your pack, Princess. Is there anything else you need?"

"That will be all, Virgo. Thank you for your help." Lucy shifted Laxus and moved him back to the ground with his head on her lap again. "Laxus, where is your team now?"

"South. I expect at least Bix and Freed to have followed."

"Okay," she said reaching into her pack, "I'm calling your team."

"Thanks, Lucy."

"You can rest now, Laxus. I'm with you," she whispered and absently ran her hands through his blonde spikes until his breathing evened out. Each time he took a deep breath, he stuttered and Lucy took a mental note to make sure that he took something for the pain when he woke up. Picking up the lacrima and looking to the sky Lucy sent a small pulse of magic into it waiting for an answer.

Freed and Bickslow were following what signs they could find left behind by the missing wyvern that Laxus had gone after ahead of them. After walking for hours the two decided to stop for a small break when Freed felt a familiar buzzing from his coat pocket. He quickly pulled it out and answered it, not expecting to see the face on the other end.

"Miss Lucy?" he asked confusedly.

"Oh good, Freed! Where are you? Is your team with you?"

He looked over at Bickslow who moved closer so that Lucy could see him. "Hey cosplayer. Evergreen is waiting back in Akane for us to call her."

"Hey Bix," she happily greeted, "Well you guys might want to call her so she can get your reward and head home. Long story short, I ran into Laxus and your missing wyvern. We're good here though, the beasts are down and out."

"Beasts? But Laxus only chased after one."

Lucy nodded, "Apparently it found a friend. Laxus had one down when I found him. I'm guessing they got the jump on him, he's pretty beat up. He'll be fine after some rest," she assured his teammates

"I see. Are the two of you safe?"

"Safe enough for now. There's a storm closing though. We're in a clearing just south of the forest's edge closer to Clover Town. That's where I came from. Look for Belladonna plants, they're surrounding the clearing."

"Deadly nightshade?"

"Exactly, Freed. Do you see any near you?"

"I don't."

Lucy huffed thinking of what she could do to help them find her and their teammate easier when an idea came to her. "Freed, how well can you guys see the sky?"

The two men looked up at the grey clouds overhead that they hadn't noticed before. "We have a clear view, Lucy. Why do you ask?"

"I've got an idea. Don't move." The two looked at each other and shrugged, waiting for Lucy to speak again. When they heard her speak again they looked at the lacrima in awe. "Stardress, Sagittarius!" They watched her glow in an ethereal light as a bow appeared in her hands and she aimed at the sky before releasing a single glowing arrow.

"Lucy, hang tight. We're on our way to you now," Freed said excitedly before he and Bickslow started off toward the beacon Lucy had fired.

Lucy cut the connection from the lacrima and returned to the sleeping man. She watched his even breaths and ran her hands through his hair once more, waiting for the storm in the clearing.

[howlonomy]

I'm sure Clover has a better chance of getting onto certain rides then Kanako does... But are either of them good with Fast rides or do they prefer more lower rides?

Would they try and convince Ceroba to join them in a tea cup ride where they work together to try and spin around as fast as they could until all three are left dizzy?

clover prefers the slower rides! they enjoyed the little minecart ride in the mines when they were underground, but they dont mind the fast ones. just not their fav. they prefer the games at a carnival or park (especially the water shooter; they could get the top prize no problem)

kanako is the thrill seeker. shes draggin her uncle starlo on every fast ride she can find (he goes but ends up hating it every time. he is scared of heights and does not like it) sometimes martlet and ceroba will join bc they also like those kinds of rides :]

ceroba would be the one manning the teacup ride and make them all dizzy as hell!! shes strong enough to make it go REALLY FAST and its FUN