#i’ll do anything my whittle princess

[cuupidsss]

i need suguru geto so bad

[aconites]

happy 2024! as it's a new year, i thought this was the perfect time to post a plotting call for those who might be interested in writing with me!  if you want to do threads with someone who will message you at the crack of dawn with random headcanons, musings and create graphics (manips, gifs manips, crackships, etc​ )  for our characters — look no further. i also have no triggers, am sm.ut friendly and i love to do multiple plots with the same partner. bellow the cut you’ll find a list of wanted faceclaims, opposites, ships and plots that i would love to do and if anything catches your interest please give this post a like and i’ll message you. this is for mutuals & non mutuals, so feel free to like this even if we have threads/plots happening already!

faceclaims i’d love to play! * melissa barrera** * greta onieogou* * ana de armas* * phoebe tonkin* * margot robbie* * camila queiroz** * sydney sweeney* * ayca aysin turan * hande ercel * alycia debnam-carey* * simone ashley * melisa pamuk* * adria arjona* * olivia cooke * grace van patten * jessica alexander* * madelyn cline* * madison bailey * priscilla quintana* * meghann fahy * benedetta porcaroli * camila morrone * riley keough * suki waterhouse* * adelaide kane* * florence pugh * sophia bush * ester exposito * lily james * lily collins * gabriella wilde* * sofia carson * josephine langford * danielle rose russell * danielle campbell * abigail cowen* * halston sage * camila mendes * brianne howey * gemma chan * eiza gonzalez * lindsey morgan * zendaya * sabrina carpenter * candice swanepoel * elsa hosk * jasmine tookes * emily ratajkowski

faceclaims i’d love to play against!

* all the ladies above * pedro pascal** * ben barnes** * joseph quinn* * joe keery* *christopher briney* * henry cavill * ricky whittle * casey deidrick* * jd pardo * jamie dornan * adam demos * richard madden * sam clafflin * carlos miranda * scott eastwood * garrett hedlund * drew starkey * clayton cardenas * jonathan bailey * jeffrey dean morgan * rudy pankow * felix mallard * dj cotrona* * charlie hunnam** * sebastian stan* * alex fitzalan * dylan o’brien* * nick robinson * manny montana  * chris evans* * harry styles * jacob elordi * boyd holbrook

some ships i’d love to do! * any of the above fcs combined tbh. ( m/f or f/f ) * click here for full list since tumblr has a text limit.

plots id love to do! * this unhappily married dad/babysitter plot. * * this angsty/fluffy my best friend is having my baby plot. * * this zombie apocalypse/last of us inspired plot* but also any za plot. * celeb plots! especially this one. something like two super famous actors hiding their relationship or famous person/non famous plots?* * single dad/nanny plots! give me something cute and angsty. * * escort/client plot where she breaks the most important rule… don’t fall for your client* * grumpy ceo/soft assistant plots.* * royal plots! bridgerton esqued plots! * * f/f socialites plot… blair/selena/upper east side inspired muses but make it gay* * college professor/teacher’s assistant plot.  * college professor/student plot. * crimey plots? sons of anarchy inspired? or maybe m.afia/m.ob/gang stuff?* * bodyguard/client plots bc i’m a sucker for them* * soulmates plot. i have a whole lore i’ve been wanting to write out for ages so * sugar b.aby / sugar d.addy plots *  * best friends to lovers plots ( gimme angst) * WHEN THE M.OB PRINCESS MEETS THE M.OB PRINCE: forbidden love is always angsty so why not do that and add rival g.angs to the mix?  muse a is the daughter of the head boss of the local g.ang and is sick and tired of having her life controlled by her overprotective father. so, to rebel against his wishes after an argument, muse a decides to go to a nightclub that her father had always forbidden her to attend. unknown to her, the club is run by the rival g.ang’s boss’ son, muse b, and not knowing who she is, can’t stop looking at her on the dance floor. they eventually bump into each other and after having a few drinks, end up at muse a’s apartment and they hook up. i was thinking they both never brought up their families and their true professions and maybe start to hang out/go on dates and then bam, the truth comes out and drama begins. especially when they can’t stay away from each other.

* MY BEST FRIEND IS A ROCKSTAR: (tw: death) muse a & muse b have been best friends since they were kids and grew up together. throughout their childhood, muse b had always told muse a about his plans to become a famous musician and as he grew older, became more and more determined to make those dreams come true. when they both hit their teen years, feelings eventually grew and the two were head over heels for each other but neither of them was ever able to admit it. they were both terrified that the feelings would be unrequited or that it would ruin their friendships so just imagine the angst of them seeing each other with other people and FGHDFG. anyway, when muse b finally turns twenty-one, he decides to move to hollywood to make his dreams come true, and muse a stays in their small hometown. they keep in contact with one another but as time went on, muse b becomes a huge rockstar with his band and their contact start to drift but they always had each other in their thoughts, wishing they were closer to one another. a few years pass and they still speak but it’s not like before. muse b was hugely successful and enjoyed the life he was now living but always felt like something was missing. that someone was missing… it’s not until he gets a distraught call from muse a telling him that her mother died does he rush on a private jet and comes home to her. after helping her arrange the funeral and being there for her through her grief, he suggests that she comes on tour with him and the band. wanting to run away from everything and everyone in her small town, she agrees. queue cute ass moments on the tour bus, traveling the world and falling in love like they did when they were young. add drama, angst ( because they’re both still dumb and won’t admit to their feels) stadium tours, TENSION!!!, groupies, etc, etc. 

CLICK HERE FOR MORE BC TUMBLR HAS A TEXT LIMIT.

[aurum-rays]

When you rewatch most childhood movies, the cult classics, the nostalgia rides, I realize how sexist and problematic they were and I was secretly hoping Veer Zaara wasn't one of them(I watched it when I was like 10 so I don't remember). This movie surprised me.

Veer Zaara features strong, resilient female characters. Be it our protagonist Zaara played by Preity Zinta or the catalysts of the love story Saamiya (Rani Mukherjee) and Shabbo (Divya Dutta) or even Zaara’s mother (Kirron Kher) and her Bebe (Zohra Sehgal).

Zaara Hayaat Khan is a feminist, one who is against the societal norms laid for a woman. It's refreshing to see this in her introductory song "Hum to bhai jese hai wese rahengey" sung beautifully by Lata ji, but as this 3 hour musical drama progresses it gets disappointing to see Zaara whittle herself away to the same norms she was against in the first place.

Everyone around her constantly tells her it's her responsibility to be a good wife and a good mother and to guard the respect of their families. Zaara crosses the border to fulfill a final wish of her ‘BeBe’(grandmother) all by herself.

In the midst of a rescue operation, she demands her things be lifted off along with her all while hanging on to an Air Force professional in his uniform.

She pushes the crowded men away and speaks with authority "I have a ticket and I need to get on this bus". In all these instances Zaara is scared yet heroic. She phones her mother and tells her that all her life she didn't do anything and probably won't in the future too and will probably end up being just like her mother - a good wife and a good mother, so she wants to do this one thing so she can respect herself. This is what irked me. I understand she's from an orthodox family but she can still have dreams and ambitions. From the start of the movie, she is portrayed as a rebel, one who doesn't comply with societal norms and laughs in the face of stereotypes. I can only imagine how curious she would have been as a child. That alone is enough to give her some dreams.

She fearlessly tells Amitabh's character what he is doing is unfair to the girls. If I went to someone’s house for a day especially someone I barely knew I wouldn't even dare to question their acts. Zaara does and she makes him spellbound. She doesn't go “I'm just here for one day so I’ll just mind my own business and leave”. She questions the injustice. "Imagine what girls could do if they were given the right education. Some of them might even surpass Veer".

I loved Zaara in all these scenes. She fearlessly stands up against mistreatment and calls them out no matter who the other person is. All this makes you root for her until it doesn't.

In a scene where Saamiya visits Veer's (Shahrukh Khan) hometown and finds Zaara there, she says to Shabbo "Yeh kis sadi ke log hai… ?" (transl. “Which century are these people from?”)

That's exactly how I felt too. “Kon hai ye log? Kahan se aate hai?”( transl. Who are these people? Where do they come from?) Spending their whole lives in the name of the person they never got to be with. Sacrificing everything and working to fulfill someone else’s dream. Zaara has always been that kind of person. She crosses borders to fulfill her bebe's wish and gives all her life to fulfill Veer and his Tau’s wish. She keeps doing everything for others. She spends her life making others’ dreams come true. She lives her life in the memory of her lover. This also reminded me of Sita aka Princess Noor Jahan from Sitaramam (also maybe Madarasipattinam's Amy).

If Saamiya saw these women she'd again say "Kon hai ye log?"

Even after decades of releasing love stories on-screen this "sacrificing" trope hasn't changed and remains to be a classic which I am not a big fan of. Why do these characters not have any characterization of their own? (Zaara) even if they do, it all changes when a man comes into her life (Sita/Noor Jahan). Ultimately the heroin has to either die or spend her whole life in the memory of her Romeo. (Remember what Mr. Dashwood says to Jo in 2019’s Little Women?)

Maybe I don't understand love stories. Maybe I don't understand love? I don't know. But I think in real life none of us are that insane to write our whole life in someone else’s name and live and breathe just reminiscing our lost lovers, at least I am not. Maybe that is why these movies will remain classics because they are too insane to happen in real life.

[carbo-ships]

Yule

Heads up that this one is a little spicy.

Part 54 [Soldagand x Carly Masterlist]

Yule had finally arrived in Aalveir. Soldagand had spent most of his spare time over the past several weeks whittling little toys for the children of Stornhein. He'd been doing it for well over a hundred years, he'd explained when Carly asked about it, and he wasn't stopping any time soon. Now that Yule had begun, it was time to deliver this year's gifts.

Soldagand stepped into the den of his tree as soon as dusk had fallen. The hulking dryad was dressed in a red sleeveless vest with a high collar and gold buttons. The white fur lining poked out around the edges. His pants, a matching red, were tucked into tall brown boots. Atop his head rested a red stocking cap with white fur trim.

"I've never seen you in red before," Carly commented, looking him up and down from her seat by the hearth.

"It ain't the most flattering color on me, but it's tradition," he sighed. "Hard to find colors that look nice on me, being the color I am."

"I think you look handsome," she praised him, smiling broadly.

"You just like how it makes my arms look, dontcha?" he teased, flexing his bicep.

She felt her cheeks heat up. That always made her flustered. "I, uh— Well, yes, but—"

He chuckled and hefted a big brown sack over his shoulder. "Thank you, darlin'."

"Are those the presents for everyone?" she asked, eager to change the subject.

"Mmhm."

"Do you have anything in there for me?" she asked shyly.

He grinned. "No, I couldn't quite figure out how to wrap a couple hundred of my kisses," he purred with a wink.

Her face flushed. "I— Oh! You’re— I—" A pitiful whimper escaped her throat as images of Soldagand kissing her senseless flooded her mind. She clapped her hands over her mouth.

Soldagand laughed. "I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Don’t worry, I’ve got somethin’ you can actually get your hands on. I'll give it to ya later. Now c’mere..." He bent down and kissed her sweetly, leaving her in a bit of a daze. "I’ll be back in a couple hours. See ya, doll. Don't miss me too much."

—

Later that evening, Soldagand returned. He was humming absentmindedly to himself, an empty sack in one arm and a box in the other.

"Welcome back!" Carly called, hopping up to greet him. "I take it everything went well?"

"Evenin', darlin'!" he responded with a big smile, stepping out of his snow-covered boots. "Yep, no problems."

"What's that?" she asked, indicating towards the box tucked under his arm.

"This? Some folks leave little goodies for me as thanks. Awful sweet of 'em, dontcha think?" He set the box on the table and removed the lid to reveal an assortment of cookies and other baked goods. "Go on, have a few."

"Ooh, thank you!" she cooed, hopping up from the couch to accept his offer.

Soldagand tossed the empty sack and his hat into a corner of the room and lied down on the couch, kicking his feet up on the arm rest. He watched as Carly took a treat from the box and popped it into her mouth. When she turned back around to face him, he had a smug grin on his face. "I know you usually tend to wait until that lil Christmas thing you do, but..." Soldagand tugged at the collar of his vest suggestively. "Why don’t you go ahead and unwrap your present?"

She nearly choked on the cookie. "I— You?!"

He sent her an amused smirk. "Come on." He patted his hip, clearly offering her a seat on top of him.

She swallowed hard then scoffed, attempting to hide her nerves. "You’re kidding."

"I most certainly am not. I told you I’d have something you could get your hands on, didn’t I?"

"I— I didn’t think you meant— Oh, Soldagand, I—" She was starting to panic.

"I won't make you if you don't wanna," he reminded her, "but I’d like you to at least give me a try. You might find you like what I have to offer. I mean, we're engaged, after all. Have a look at what you signed up for, princess."

"Are you sure?" she asked, still rooted to the spot.

He grinned. "I’ll take good care of you, sweet girl. Now c’mere." He waved her over. She took a deep breath and nodded, approaching him. He smiled as she carefully straddled him. "That's it, there you go."

"I, um, I don’t know what to do," she admitted nervously as she settled on his hips.

"No?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Well, that's alright, darlin'. How about this for starters: go ahead and unbutton this vest of mine."

"Really?" she stuttered.

"Yes, ma'am," he said calmly. "Be my guest."

She continued to stare at him, dumbfounded. "I— Oh, gosh, I can’t do this."

"Sure you can," he chuckled, taking her hands in his and guiding them to the button at his throat. "Take all the time you need. I’m in no rush. We can take this nice an’ slow. You're in charge here. Besides, it ain't like you've never seen me with my shirt off before." With trembling fingers, she undid the first button on his vest. She looked up at him for permission to continue. He gave her an encouraging nod and rested his hands behind his head to further bare his chest. "That's it," he cooed. She took a deep breath and carefully undid the next button. As the fabric parted, her suspicions were confirmed—he wasn’t wearing a shirt under his vest. He noticed the change in her expression and felt rather pleased with himself. "Somethin’ wrong?" he asked coyly.

"N-no, I— You’re fine." Not wanting to offend him, she continued unbuttoning his vest. It was hard for her to steady her breathing as more and more of him was exposed. She kept her eyes firmly on her task, but glanced up at him once to find him biting his lip and gazing at her with half-lidded eyes. The sight nearly took away any shred of courage she had left, making her immediately look away. She busied herself with undoing the remaining buttons on his vest so she wouldn’t have to look at that devilish grin.

When she was finally done, she dared to look back up at him for further instruction. "Here, pumpkin. I’ll help you out." He sat up slightly to let her ease the vest off of his broad shoulders and down his muscular arms. When it was off his body and in her trembling hands, she began to gingerly fold it. He laughed and took it from her, balling it up and tossing it on the floor unceremoniously. "No need to be so gentle, baby."

She still seemed uncertain as he lied back down and looked at her expectantly. Her eyes flickered between his face and his bare torso. "What, um, what do I do now?"

"You can play with your new toy any way you like." He shrugged, failing to fight back a grin.

She hid her face in her hands. "Please don’t talk like that," she begged him. "You’re not my toy, you’re my friend."

"I’d love to be both," he purred.

"Soldagand!" she gasped, scandalized.

He laughed heartily, resting his hands on her waist. "I just find it curious that I’m the one who’s half-naked, pinned to the couch, and you’re the one who’s about to keel over! Sweetheart, I'm all yours. It's all up to you. Anything you want tonight, just do it."

"A-Anything?" she stuttered.

"Pretty much. What, you got somethin’ in mind?" Soldagand asked casually, trying to hide how eager he was. He was more than ready for Carly to get her hands on him. He flexed his muscles in an effort to tempt her.

Without another word, she curled up on his bare chest and buried her blushing face in the crook of his warm neck. "Can we cuddle?" she asked timidly.

He paused, surprised. He'd planned on taking this evening in a much different direction, but he wouldn't complain. Perhaps this was the first step to a more interesting night, and perhaps this was truly all she wanted. Either way, he was more than happy to oblige. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. "Of course, darlin'." As she snuggled into his embrace, he could feel her heart racing. "Is this really all you want? Just cuddlin'?"

"Um..." she mumbled. "I know you were joking earlier when you, um..." Her voice trailed off.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Couple hundred of my kisses?"

"Yes, please," she whispered. "If that's okay."

"Of course, honey. I'm gettin' the feeling you don't like taking the reins, huh?"

"Not really," she squeaked. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, there's no need to apologize, sweetheart, it's alright! Just thought it might be fun to shake things up a bit, that's all. How 'bout I give you a minute to settle, and then we'll fall back into our old rhythms, alright?"

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@celestica-ships @mikeyrealman @emberfairfield @ratchlite @a-changeling-in-love + dryad buddy @limey-self-inserts

lmk if u want to be added or removed from the taglist

[axvwriter]

A Childish Spat

Princess Bobo, fifteen years old, sat upon her usual bench upon her quarterly visit to the kingdom above hers. Princess Penelope, nineteen years old, had just arrived to the castle’s restricted garden. Only a few minutes late, but those few minutes were enough to whittle away at Bobo’s calm facade. Any remaining attempt of holding a cordial face was dropped to pure annoyance as Penelope didn’t even greet her.

“Ugh,” Penelope groaned as she sat down on her favorite bench, “Why do you keep showing up here?”

“…” Bobo gaped, her brow furrowed at such a ridiculous question. “I would have thought you knew. Don’t tell me it’s taken years for you to realize you have no idea why we meet up.”

“Oh shut up.” Penelope rolled her eyes. “You do realize our meetings are pointless, right? My parents are the ones in charge. I hold no power. The only reason you meet with me is because my parents don’t see you as a true ruler. You’re just a child in their eyes.”

“…It… I do find it annoying to be called up here just to only see you. I’m quite aware that your parents don’t see me as an equal.” Bobo huffed. “Yet I still choose to come up here for a reason, Penelope.” Bobo leaned forward slightly, trying to spot revelation cross the blonde’s face. Penelope’s face stayed in its grouchy frown as the older girl fought to keep herself in perfect posture. Bobo let out a sigh.

“Princess Penelope, eventually you’ll become Queen. As ruler of the Mycelind Kingdom, I figure it’s important to forge a friendly bond with you. So while I rarely see your parents, the current rulers in which I’m supposed to have quarterly meetings with, I choose to stay and see you.” Bobo explained before reaching for a cup of tea.

“Oh please, you’re not one to be a kiss-up!” Penelope snapped, surprising the younger girl. Bobo withdrew her hand from the round garden table that separated them. Penelope stood up and slapped her hands onto the table, causing the refreshments sitting upon it to rattle.

“You only sit and tolerate me because my parents tell you too! It’s absolutely ridiculous! You get to pretend to be Queen of your kingdom while my parents won’t let me handle anything!” Penelope threw her hands up into the air before crossing her arms.

“…Pretend?” Bobo balled her hands as she refused to let herself stand up. “I am Princess and sole ruler of my kingdom! I may not agree with how your kingdom works in regards to such things, but just because you aren’t getting your way doesn’t give you the right to lash out at me.”

“Oh? What are you going to do about it, huh?” Penelope taunted and moved around the garden table to get closer. “Make another empty warning of war? Do you know how laughable that is? What is Mycelind going to do if it destroys its only ally and protector? Like you even could. Maybe next time there’s an invasion here, I’ll call you up and have them kidnap you. Or maybe I’ll just open the gate and let all those horrible mages right into your magic-defenseless kingdom.” Penelope taunted as she leaned towards the younger princess.

“You say that as if you have enough defenses with just one royal mage.” Bobo grumbled as she angled her head away from Penelope’s face. “I appreciate your… protection. Still, I could declare war. And as Princess, it’ll be your fault for failing to keep things civil.”

“Well, what if I declare war?!” Penelope reared back, an angry flush starting to color her delicately pale face.

“You don’t have that ability.” Bobo looked at her upon receiving some personal space. “You’d have to bring up the motion with your parents. Then I’m sure they’d want to hear from both of us.”

“I- you- Augh! I hate you! I’ll never like you! So stop wasting both of our time and stay in the ground where you belong!!” Penelope screamed. Bobo felt her restraint thin at that.

“Wasting both of our time?! Well I’ll admit it always feels like a waste of time coming up here! But it’s rather rich to hear you think it’s a waste of your time! All you do is complain about how you aren’t Queen yet and how you have nothing to do! If you actually cared, you’d find a way, find something to do!” Bobo yelled as she stood to her feet.

Penelope grabbed at a cup of tea and threw its contents at Bobo. The younger girl raised her arms in a defensive manner yet blinked at just feeling the warm liquid splash her. Penelope looked smug, like as if she had done something significant.

“Are… you… serious?” Bobo practically hissed as she seethed. “I thought you were going to actually hit me! Actually do something of consequence! Do you think a possible stain means anything?! Do you have any idea what I go through?! What actual meaningful action is?! No wonder you sit around and complain about not ruling, you absolute bimbo!” Bobo snatched the cup out of Penelope’s hand. Yet before she could even raise it, the fragile thing shattered in her fist. Penelope simply scowled, unaware of what Bobo almost did.

“So barbaric. You get angry and the first thought in your mind is to get violent?” Penelope turned to start walking away. Bobo took a step after her, but stopped as she recognized the sickly sticky feeling coming from her hand.

“Princess Penelope, Princess Bobo, I heard yelling. Do you two need more tea?” Bobo vaguely registered the young man’s voice as she slowly opened her fist. Her gaze drawn down as she watched the fine porcelain shard fell from her hand. She hadn’t even really realized that any part of the tea cup had been trapped in her hold.

“Actually, Princess Bobo and me have just wrapped up our meeting. If you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.” Penelope’s voice faintly reached Bobo’s ears. The older girl not looking back once as she left the restricted garden. Bobo stared at her own ripped glove, watching the white fabric grow more and more red.

She had slipped up. She had made a mistake. What if her parent made a similar mistake and only realized too late? Could she head back home with her skin torn open? The path… the path… is it safe? Is it clear? When was the last time it was checked for that strain of mycelium?

“Princess Bobo.” The young man’s voice rang clearly before the feeling of his hand on her shoulder forced her out of her spiraling, panicking thoughts. Bobo gasped as she stepped back, clenching her hand closed and cradling it to her chest.

“Mage Maus.” Bobo frowned and took another step back. The twenty-one year old gave a worried frown. He reached for her wrist.

“You’re injured? Let me see.” Maus softly asked yet Bobo practically jumped away from his reach.

“No. Don’t touch me.” Bobo growled, regaining her senses. She turned around and headed to the garden’s gate. “I accidentally broke a cup snd stained a glove is all.” The path is always checked regularly. At least once a week to make sure it’s clean snd structurally sound. It’s silly to fret. It wouldn’t take long to get home, her wound treated, and her glove replaced. This small mistake wont be a risk to her own life.

Maus watched her leave before turning his attention towards the porcelain bits amongst the grass.

———

Princess Bobo stood inside one of her sister kingdom’s castle, facing the King and Queen. Instead of being seated in a nice garden with refreshments, Bobo stood. No seat offered nor available to her as the sun blared through the tall, spacious windows, practically blinding her. The only seats available were two thrones, currently occupied by the previously mentioned royalty. No sign of their only heir, making Bobo wonder if the Princess even knew of this meeting.

Only three days had passed since her and Penelope’s meeting. Bobo probably shouldn’t have been surprised to have received summons to see the King and Queen.

“Princess Bobo,” The King spoke, “We’ve heard that you were injured after having a screaming match with Princess Penelope.” Bobo lowered her head, hoping it looked more apologetic than sheepish as her cheeks warmed.

“I’m sorry. I lost my temper at Penelope.” Bobo could bring up how the girl had started it. She could mention how awful Penelope had been, but she shouldn’t have let anything Penelope said or done affect her so.

“Did Princess Penelope strike you?” The Queen asked. Penelope had never really hid her hatred towards her. It was foolish to let herself nearly strike the girl. It would only prove Penelope right if she had done so. Which might as well had happen since the only reason it didn’t was because the cup broke before she could.

“No. Princess Penelope… she shared that she holds some frustrations about not being able to help. Help you two with ruling your kingdom. I… I misunderstood her and got frustrated… in my frustration I mishandled my cup of tea.” Bobo answered, lifting her gaze to stare into the Queen’s crystal-blue eyes.

“We’ve heard you stormed away.” The King replied. “Losing your temper and dismissing yourself… You still have a long ways to go.”

“…I… know…” Bobo forced the words to come out clearly.

“I want you to go to the garden and make up with Princess Penelope.” The Queen stated. If being ordered like a misbehaving child wasn’t bad enough, Bobo saw Mage Maus step out from behind a pillar.

“Please let me escort you, Princess Bobo.” Maus moved smoothly towards her, offering his arm. Bobo glared at his arm before turning around to lead herself out. The royal mage quietly followed behind, making her more tense as she struggled to make out his footsteps.

Upon arriving in the shaded garden, Bobo saw Penelope toying with the refreshments at the table. Before she could guess if Penelope had possibly brought them over herself or was simply fiddling with them, Maus called out.

“Princess Penelope, I’ve brought Princess Bobo to see you.” He stepped past Bobo, nearly brushing against her if she hadn’t leaned out of reach. Penelope looked over, her baby-blue eyes sparkling upon seeing the young royal mage.

“Mage Maus!” Penelope chirped as she bounced her way over to him. Bobo kept from rolling her eyes. It seemed the Princess would rather ignore her in order to flirt with someone who never treated her negatively. The mage smiled as he held out his arms to grasp her forearms gently. Returning the attention while keeping her at a debatably polite distance.

Bobo quietly moved herself over to her regular bench. She was fine with ignoring Penelope and pass the time distracting herself with tea. This would be enough punishment and repentance for what happened. Though it would be a lot better if Penelope was able to dismiss her so she could return to her paperwork. Bobo sighed, leaning back with a full cup. Preferably she’d nap in order to prepare for the lack of sleep she’d inevitably get tonight as she kept from falling behind in her work.

“While you are as beautiful as the morning sun, I’d say that Princess Bobo is as the evening light.” Mage Maus’s voice caught her attention as he sat down beside Penelope. Much closer than what was considered a polite distance. She would not nap while Mage Maus was around in the royal’s garden.

“Oh must you bring her into this?” Penelope whined and rested her head against his shoulder. Bobo glared as the man dared run his fingers through Penelope’s long, silken hair.

“The King and Queen want you two to get along.” Maus reminded.

“We get along best when we’re nowhere near each other.” Penelope huffed, keeping herself from scowling. Instead pouting as to keep up her soft, perfect, princess image. Maus chuckled softly. He reached over and picked up a biscuit with his gloved hand. Bobo internally cringed, keeping herself from commenting on the hygiene of that. Above ground, they could be laxer about such things

“Ahh” Penelope practically sang out as she held open her mouth. Basically demanding that the mage feed his treat to her. Maus chuckled again as he followed her silent command. Bobo looked away, not wanting to risk seeing any of his dirty glove make contact with her mouth.

“Now Princess Penelope, you two will be working together in the future when you’re both Queens. Would it really be that bad to become friends before then?” Maus’s words caused Bobo to sling her glare at him again. The small smirk he sent her way only frustrated her.

He perfectly understood that their two kingdoms cultures were different enough that Princess and Queen didn’t mean the same for each other! She scowled, realizing this must be his way to tauntingly call her a child, to call her not a real ruler.

“…You make a fair point.” Penelope softly sighed as she withdrew from him. Bobo glanced at her, annoyed that Penelope would rather pretend to listen to him. The two Princesses stared at each other. Bobo scowled some more as a mischievous smile spread across Penelope’s face.

“Bobo, you become Queen when you’re married, right?” Penelope asked with a grin as she leaned forward.

“Yes, but need I remind yo-“ Bobo tried to reply just for Penelope to cut her off.

“You know, my parents may not even take you seriously once you reach adulthood. After all, they still treat me like a child.” Penelope pouted and fluttered her eyelashes at the mage still seated beside her. He responded by rubbing his hand over her back.

“Well you’re not an adult, you’re still a teen.” Bobo stated with slight confusion.

“I’m nineteen!”

“Yeah, nineteen. Not even twenty.” Bobo frowned.

“Twenty? Oh don’t tell me that in your backwards kingdom that you don’t hit adulthood upon turning eighteen.” Penelope whined as she threw her head back over the bench she’s seated upon.

“Wha… what? Why would you be an adult at eighteen? Teen is part of the number!” Bobo exasperatedly responded. She glanced at Maus, noticing his slightly wide eyes. Apparently he wasn’t aware of this difference either. Bobo sighed and slumped in her seat.

“Once you hit twenty is when you’re considered legally an adult in Mycelind.” Bobo monotonely stated. Penelope nearly blew a raspberry, catching herself as she recalled the mage’s presence.

“Well that just means two more years of my parents getting to justifily see you as a little child.” Penelope stated as she side-eyed Bobo.

“What is it that you’re trying to say?” Bobo huffed.

“As long as you remain single and with the title of Princess… there’s no need to take you all that seriously. Thus you need to get married as soon as possible to get the treatment my parents should be giving you.” Penelope slyly grinned. Bobo furrowed her brow. Getting married as soon as possible was ready part of her plans. As the only one with the blood right left to rule, it would be important to get some heirs as soon as she turned twenty. Though perhaps she should just trust that the backup measures in place would work.

Yet if she had kids, they’d be able to help shoulder the responsibility. Along with any and all worthy spouses she got. That’s…. Isn’t that a selfish way to think of it? But what if the backup measure never gets properly carried out? The Grand Mycorl was always too much of a softie… he could very well prevent a new ruler from being chosen if something happened to her. So having spouses and kids as soon as possible would be in the best interests of Mycelind, right? Yet why did it feel… selfish? Why did it have to feel off?

“Alright..?” Bobo prompted Penelope to continue.

“So how about you start attending some of my kingdom’s balls? Not only is this a generous offer from me, but it’ll help you start courting in preparation of choosing a king.” Penelope giggled.

“. . . You know I hate waltzing.” Bobo nearly whined. Penelope was making this all up as an excuse to torture her instead of actually trying to befriend her!

Mage Maus briefly stood up to move over onto Bobo’s bench. He scooted close to Bobo, but kept some distance at her glaring.

“I think Princess Penelope’s idea is great. You’ve attended before pretending to be her cousin. You’d be able to practice the ways of courting without the worry of possibly embarrassing yourself.” Maus smiled. Bobo raised a foot, pushing it against his thigh to force him further away.

“You’re purposely forgetting that things tend to be a bit different in my kingdom. There isn’t really nobles so learning to flirt or court however your nobles do won’t be of help to me.” Bobo scowled at the royal mage.

“Oh, I suppose so. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to gather the courage to flirt with others. If you really wouldn’t like to attend any balls, you could practice your ways on me.” Maus gave that slight teasing smirk again. Bobo jumped up to her feet, fed up with his presence.

“I much rather kiss Penelope than even pretend to flirt with you. I’m not going to go to any stupid balls.” Bobo walked away towards the gate. Enough time had passed that she could get away with peacefully dismissing herself. Penelope gave a disgusted face upon hearing Bobo’s words, which caused Maus to laugh. Penelope sulked at his laughter, telling him it wasn’t funny and that he should feel deeply insulted.

———

“Princess…” Bobo turned towards the door, frowning at seeing her caretaker, Beau’s, worried face. He walked over to where she sat at a desk, working away on a pile of paperwork. She paused what she was doing and turned to properly face him.

“I was summoned to the sister kingdom to receive a message for you.” Beau pulled an envelope out of one of his pockets. “I read it and I’m sure there’s been some sort of misunderstanding.”

“What does it say?” Bobo frowned, wondering if whatever it was, she could end up tossing away. She didn’t want to have to go back up to the surface anytime soon.

“It seems that the Queen believes you accepted the Princess’s invitation to attend her birthday ball. The message seems to mostly inform you that you are to show up four hours before the ball so servants there may get you ready… in a dress the Princess has commissioned for you. It doesn’t say when the ball is.” Beau answered.

“…Penelope shared that she wanted me to attend some balls, but she didn’t mention anything about her birthday. I can’t really respond and say that I won’t go… they wouldn’t accept that even if I were to say Penelope didn’t actually invite me. I’d assume the ball would be the day of her birthday… Could you please go ask for confirmation of the date and details? Also please give them my measurements. I wouldn’t put it past Penelope to guess or simply use the measurements they got when I was thirteen.”

[ichorai]

pearls and pastries ; j.jk

pairing ; pirate!jungkook x baker!reader (gender-neutral)

summary ; a crew of pirates have been pilfering your village for several weeks now and one particularly keen buccaneer has stopped by your bakery practically every visit; whether it be for the delectable pastries or for the sweet baker he's taken an interest to, jungkook couldn’t say. but there’s a catch - the baker doesn’t know that he’s a pirate.

themes ; fantasy, angst, fluff, pining, slight action, pirate au, baker au, medieval au

words ; 3.6k

warnings / includes ; descriptions of weaponry, stealing (from the rich), jungkook being a sad lovesick sap, pirate!bts, poetic sadness but when do i not do angst lmfao everything i touch turns into written sorrow </3

a/n ; written for the @ficscafe fic exchange event for @sunshinerainbowsbts !! i hope you like it <3 i'm definitely considering writing a part two to this :D

Jungkook wasn’t quite fond of parrots. Well, his mislike wasn’t necessarily directed towards the multi-hued rotund bird itself, but the fact that the wretched thing was squawking out a poor rendition of what Jungkook had announced earlier whilst clambering down the crow’s nest.

“I’m going to the bakery! I’m going to the bakery! I’m going to the bakery!” the winged devil screeched from atop Jimin’s shoulder, ruffling its bright feathers as if taunting him.

Shooting it the nastiest of scowls, Jungkook reached behind his head to untie the vermilion bandana holding his overgrown locks away from his narrowed eyes. “You better shut that bird up before I toss it to the sharks, Jimin.”

“If I let you do that, I’d also have to throw you overboard. The both of you are equally annoying,” the other pirate snorted in contempt, glancing up at his younger friend striding across the ship before moving his gaze back to the knapsack he was emptying for the pilfer. Out fell several empty bottles of rum, a few gold pieces glinting in the harsh midday sun, two jewel-encrusted daggers, and a worn eyepatch that suspiciously looked to be the same as the one Yoongi always wore over his left eye. “You seem to forget that we’re here to steal from the rich, not buy fancy breads! You’re lucky that Namjoon has half the decency not to kick you off the boat. Jin, however fond he is of you, still calls you a moocher.”

Rouge faintly dusted across Jungkook’s cheekbones as he coughed into his fist, lifting his shoulder in a half-shrug. “I steal stuff sometimes,” he muttered under his breath. It was useless to defend himself against someone who saw straight through him.

“Sometimes, my foot!” Jimin scoffed, hiking the bag over his shoulders. “Bringing back a goblet you found rolling down the street doesn’t count, you know that, right?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes to the cloudless sky, far too stubborn to admit that Jimin was right. With not another word, the young pirate clambered off of the large vessel and onto the rickety docks, grunting upon landing. It didn’t bother him much that Jimin was irked at his lack of contribution. They were rich enough as it is; what was the rush?

The air was tangy with sea salt and damp wood as he inhaled a deep breath, setting off for your bakery. Walking there took exactly three hundred and seventy two steps. Jungkook had memorized the shortest route to your little shop, mumbling the numbers under his breath with a growing grin blossoming across his lips. He subconsciously rolled the sleeves of his white tunic down, the fabric concealing the pirate tattoos inked all over his arms.

When the youthful sea wolf stepped foot into your store, a familiar chiming of the bell hooked atop the door echoed across the cream-walled room. At the reverberating sound, your head peeked out from the kitchen situated in the back. An illuminating beam danced on your features, eyes lighting up with mirth at the sight of Jungkook.

It made the muscle within his chest slam against his ribcage, desperate to be freed from its confines because it belonged to you, and only you. He wasn’t quite sure when the sudden fixation for the village baker his crew was stealing from started, but he had acclimated to his own change of heart by visiting you as often as he could.

“Fancy seeing you here today. Are you coming in or are you now my human door stopper?” Your heavenly voice floated towards Jungkook, snapping him out of his thoughts. Sheepish, he shuffled inside, engulfed by the warm scents of chocolate cakes, powdered pastries, caramelized fruits, and toasted almonds. His stomach gave an impatient snarl at the sight of tempting desserts. You had also walked to the front of the counter, dusting your flour covered hands on an apron. Some of the white powder had managed to smudge on your cheek, and Jungkook had to resist the urge to reach over and thumb it away.

“Hi,” he said with the brightest of grins. “I’ve missed you.”

At his bold statement, you suppressed a chortle. “I think you missed those chocolate cream puffs you like so much, not me. What’ve you been up to while you were gone?”

Jungkook hesitated at that. For the short amount of time he’d been visiting you, not once had he mustered the courage to tell you of his true origins. A savage pirate like him shouldn’t even be around the likes of you. You had no idea that he was part of the crew that was robbing your village, and the very thought of you finding out had him terrified. You were a taste of all the goodness in the world, and Jungkook was afraid you’d crumble into ash if he dared touch you. The sinner had no rights touching an angel, after all.

“Visiting family,” he hummed, quick to move on. If you noticed his strange demeanor, you didn’t say anything. For that, Jungkook was grateful. “I brought something for you.”

There was something about your smile that seemed to expel any and all feelings of gloom in a room. Jungkook was no exception to this feat, his knees almost buckling against the soft pink counters. He righted himself by leaning his elbows on top and propping his chin up with a palm. Gods, he didn’t know he was in this deep.

“Oh?” you set your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side. “To what do I owe such pleasures?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “For those cream cheese tarts you made me last time I visited. Thought I’d repay you.” Whilst saying this, he used his free hand to reach into his back pocket, fishing out a string of authentic pearls, adorned with a glimmering clasp of gold the same hue as the sun.

Your smile melted into a confused pucker, brows knitting together in a muted painting of hesitance, yet you ogled the expensive necklace dangling by one of his spindly fingers nonetheless. Where on earth had he gotten such a valuable treasure? “But you already paid me with money. I really can’t take that, Jungkook.”

Disappointment was easily detected as he slanted his lips to the side. “Alright, then.” He tucked the pearls back into his pocket. It surprised you how easily he had complied.

The worrisome atmosphere was quick to dissolve when the bell jangled once more. A small child meandered in with a toothy beam, holding a small pouch of clattering coins in their palm. They were no taller than Jungkook’s midriff, and he liked it a little more than he should have watching a certain softness adorn your features at the sight of the kid.

“I recommend the cinnamon apple pie. Or maybe the brown sugar crepes if you’re looking for something sweeter,” Jungkook said, gesturing to the treat behind the display glass. The child angled their head to stare at the taller man with wonder. “Anything Y/N makes is to die for, though.”

The child excitedly babbled something in return, but you didn’t quite pick up what they had said. You were far too focused on Jungkook’s animated features when he kneeled down to point at some more desserts. Sure, he was a handsome man, you’ve known that since day one. You’ve never really looked at him in this light. It was as if he were carved from pure luminosity, whittled by the hand of the most skilled sculptor. Everything about him was practically perfect; the gentle slope of his nose, the angles of his raised eyebrows, the dappled rouge of his lips, the beauty marks mottling his dewy skin, the dangerous cuts of his jaw, the twinkle of gaiety you found in his irises. With the sunlight filtering through the windows, it basked Jungkook within a golden radiance, the shadows casted along his face only highlighting his best features, doing nothing to aid your fluttering pulse. Has he always been this beautiful?

“I’ll have a slice of apple pie!”

The sudden clinking of coins being dumped onto the counter snapped you out of your trance, and you kindly wrapped up what the child ordered and handed them the paper bag. Both you and Jungkook watched as they smiled in thanks and trotted out of the bakery. Curse his handsome physique.

A little flustered by your earlier thoughts, you busied your hands by sorting the coins the kid had coughed up. Jungkook, ever the kind soul, merely stood with you as you worked, engaging you in entertaining conversations to keep you occupied while your store was empty. Where did the sun go once it disappeared down the horizon? Why did everybody else seem to enjoy the bitter taste of coffee except him? Why did his heart beat so quickly when around you? The last question he couldn’t muster the courage to ask, and much to his perturbation, he already knew the answer. You enjoyed Jungkook’s company very much; to the point where you couldn’t quite remember what it was like before he had sauntered into your life.

Before the both of you knew it, the sun was already setting. Jungkook noticed the way you deflated just slightly when red kissed the sky. It was a telltale sign that Jungkook was long overdue to go back to his ship. Yoongi would have his ass if he was late again. The whole situation was ridiculous, really. He felt like a fairy tale princess running away from the ball before his clothes grew into tatters. Well, in his case, he supposed it’d be pirate-wear.

Your smile betrayed only the gentlest hint of disappointment as you thrusted a bag of warm cookies into his arms. “Take this for the road,” you had said.

And so Jungkook did, smiling like an idiot the whole way back. A part of him absentmindedly wondered what your face would look like when you noticed that he had left the pearls on the countertop for you.

The ship rocked as the young pirate scampered across the deck at a startling speed, flinging the doors to the cabins open. Six older pirates stared at his panting form, a few looking on with unsurprised indifference, most glaring at him in disappointment. Jimin merely stuck his tongue out, his childish way of saying I told you so. There was expectancy in the captain’s eyes, but it waned away at an instant upon seeing that Jungkook carried nothing of value. Namjoon pinched the space between his brows in mild frustration.

Stiffly, Jungkook jerked his arm to thrust the bag in his hand forward. “Cookie?” he asked. Nobody said anything. Jungkook slowly brought his appendage back down, guilt roiling in his abdomen. “I take it you guys don’t want the cookies?”

With a huff, Namjoon stalked forward. “Of course we want the cookies, give me that.” He snatched the bag out of Jungkook’s hands and tossed it to Taehyung, who caught it with eagerness vividly splayed across his ruffled features. “I do have to admit, we’re getting tired of you bringing back nothing but sweets every time we go on raids, Jungkook. C’mon, kid, this is a team effort here. Look, just today Yoongi managed to steal a dozen coffers from a nobleman. The least you can do is try.” True to the captain’s word, there was a mountain of chests and boxes full to the brim with gold coins and shimmering jewels piled to the side of the cabin.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Jungkook nodded in understanding, though not without a miniscule frown twinging his lips. What was a pirate without his treasure, right?

Taking note of his glum demeanor, Namjoon clapped a hand to the younger man’s shoulder. “We’re not mad at you—”

Yoongi snorted at that.

“We just… want to help you help us,” Namjoon finished, ignoring the salty pirate’s quip from behind him.

The youngest man on deck raised his hand to his forehead in an awkward salute. “Yes cap’n!” Shame prowled within his chest; just thinking about the dishonor he brought to the pirate reputation by loitering in a bakery all day, ogling at sugary treats (and the sweet baker, but Jungkook digresses).

A part of him felt even worse knowing that he’d see you less and less, what with the other pirates breathing down his neck. He could only hope that you’d still look forward to his visits, though few and far in between.

Authentic bottles of expensive wines were shoved into his knapsack by Taehyung, lacing chains of aureate crammed into his hands by Hoseok, bars of cold silver wedged into the pits of his arms by Jimin, and more treasures thrown at the youngest pirate to hold as they lithely ran across the village. Being one of the stronger and more agile ones of the group had its downfalls, after all. He was being treated like a pack mule, hauling all the treasure for them. Not that he was going to complain; Jungkook knew that he deserved the rough-housing.

“Hold onto these for me, will you?” Yoongi gruffly uttered as he slid the thick hilts of gem-encrusted daggers into his belt. Jungkook complied hesitantly, but not without a suppressed groan of annoyance. “They’ll sell for more than a pretty penny, so don’t lose them.” The older pirate seemed to be in a grumpier than usual mood, considering he lost his eyepatch and the mottled scar crossing over his eye was on display for anybody to gawk at. It would’ve been worrying to Jungkook if he wasn’t aware of the fact that Jimin was merely prolonging his juvenile game of ‘keep away’, attempting to dance away from Yoongi’s inevitable wrath.

Perhaps being a pirate wasn’t his true calling, because Jungkook found that his mind kept wandering off to the matters at hand—running away from the guards. Though it was a relatively easy task (the guards were quite thick-headed in this village), he thought about the pretty plants dangling from the balconies of a building they jogged by, or the scents of exotic spices carried by the souq market not far from where they were. Most of all, much to his expectancy, his thoughts were centered around you. Had you gotten many customers for lunch rush? Were you lonely without him? How many times have you smiled today? Jungkook was all too fond of your smile.

Blinded by his unsaid affectionate ramblings, he only barely caught on to Namjoon’s quiet, “We shook the guards off for now. Be careful next time, Seokjin. The sun’s about to set soon; we should head back to the ship before it gets dark.”

Jungkook hissed out a small sigh of relief, bending over to catch his breath. Jogging across the village would have been no problem, but running with treasures twice his weight draped all over him was a different story.

When he righted himself back to standing, the sudden pit of shocked trepidation unfurled within his abdomen. There you were, beautiful as ever, but a terrifying sight to see. Normally you’d be the only person he would want to see, but as of this moment, you were the absolute last person he fancied bumping into.

Why now? He had the most rotten of luck.

Today you weren’t wearing your regular apron, but a pair of fitted grey trousers and a soft beige blouse far too large for you, hanging off of one of your shoulders as you cradled a basket of breads and cheeses and other groceries in your arms. It was a simple outfit, but one that made his heart clench nonetheless. The glinting of iridescent pearls draped over your décolletage had his breath stolen away from him as raw sentiment overtook his form. You were wearing the pearls he left for you and you never looked more beautiful. Jungkook, on the other hand, was clad in clothes that practically screamed pirate; a golden-clasped corset tightened about the small of his waist, a tattered white button-up tucked into his dark trousers, worn sea boots covering his feet. A large gun was also slung over the belt cinched around his hips, along with multiple daggers of the like, and not to mention all the riches and jewelry the other boys had thrown at him.

You couldn’t see him. No, it would absolutely ruin Jungkook.

Perhaps dropping everything he was holding in a panicked effort to dash away as quickly as he could was the worst possible thing he could have done to not warrant any attention.

The concerned and confused questions erupting from the other pirates as they whipped their heads towards their youngest comrade went completely ignored. He scampered away from them, lunging towards a shadowed alley and hiding behind a teetering pile of musty boxes. A stray cat nuzzled against his leg, but Jungkook merely shooed it away with a frustrated glare and not-so-subtle shushing gestures.

What a fool I am, the young buccaneer berated himself, pressing a knuckle against his temple in frustration. He waited for another minute, before slinking out from the shadows, peering around the corner to see if you were still there.

No sign of you. Relief seized his chest, but not without the gentlest flower of disappointment staining whatever solace he felt, a weed amongst the roses. Jungkook’s mind was still reeling from the fact that you were wearing his pearls.

Treading carefully, he strode out of the alley, turning the other direction before halting in his tracks completely. A queer, garbled noise tumbled past his lips.

It was you, a confused smile gracing your features, and all Jungkook could think about was how the sunlight was made for you, how you glowed in front of him, how he wanted to cradle you into his chest and murmur confessions of his pure, unadulterated love into your ear. But Jungkook didn’t do any of that. Instead, he merely stood there, as if he was imitating a statue in all of his pirate glory. Terrified, regretful, and ever so angry at himself.

Fate was a cruel game.

The pearls shone prettily on your skin. A reminder of the best mistake he’s ever made.

Your eyes had yet to wander down to fully take in his appearance, for your expression still held fondness for the man that’s visited your bakery so often, still having no idea that he was a filthy pirate, locked into his molten gaze. “I think you dropped something…?” The golden chains dangled loose between your fingers as you held them out to him. Jungkook didn’t take them, frozen on the spot.

It was as if he could pinpoint the exact moment you found out his true origins. Your brows furrowed upon seeing the weaponry strapped onto him, one of his pirate tattoos on display (Jungkook cursed himself for not thinking of rolling his sleeve back down), and the six other men watching in silent despondency behind them. You had always been a sharp one, far too smart for your own good.

Or, perhaps, it's always been obvious. Jungkook was only wishing for the impossible.

“You’re a pirate.”

The statement wedged a stake into his chest, splintering his heart into pieces. When you stepped away from him, confused horror marring your beautiful features, Jungkook knew that it was over.

He lost you.

A flurry of emotions, overwhelming and tumultuous, evidently took over you at his lack of denial. You looked to be just as heartbroken as he was.

“You’re a pirate,” you repeated, dazed. You wanted him to say something, anything. Much to his surprise, you didn’t sound angry. You took several steps back this time. The weight of pearls around your neck suddenly felt choking.

The sudden calling of his name had his head whipping around to look at his captain, watching the brutal exchange with gentle sternness. “We have to go.” The guards’ll be coming soon, no doubt.

Jungkook looked back to you, any and all words lodged in his throat. Despite the fear in your irises, a soft expression of acceptance folded over your visage, for under all his pirate exterior, he was still the same man that you thought so fondly of from your bakery. The look was short-lived however, quick to fade away when Jungkook reached out for you hesitantly. A part of him pondered how a simple baker managed to steal from the stealer. You had robbed him of his heart, and Jungkook didn’t even try to stop you.

Upon seeing you inch away in mortification at your new revelation, Jungkook retracted his arm and pursed his lips. The agony clawing at his stomach was begging to be set free. He wanted nothing more than to get onto his knees and plead for your forgiveness.

I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I’m not the man you thought I was. I’m sorry I fell in love with you.

His name came out again, this time from Yoongi. That meant it was serious.

“I’ll come back,” Jungkook said, tears rimming the bottom of his warm doe eyes. You watched him start to trek backwards. “I promise.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, like he was swallowing down a knot of thorned ivy.

Before you had the chance to say anything back, he was gone, bounding back to his ship with his comrades. Not long after, the distant barks of guards pursuing them rang throughout the village. You took that as your cue to leave. Swallowing down the urge to cry, you forced your eyes away.

You hoped he wouldn’t uphold his promise, for the both of your sakes.

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without Context

Treasure Island edition, Chapter 17

"This ends....today...maybe....unless we drag it out until the morning..." OOC: Don’t forget your genie damage. "Smith, for all the pain you have help cause, for everything you did while pretending to be a simple wooden leg in our midst, it is time to die. Slash and burn!" impressed iguana noises. “You’re right Dingo, I haven’t seen a tree get fucked up like that since the Once-ler went away.” "Oh crap, it's that spring break I spent in Innsmouth all over again." “Counter the Fuck Spell. Sicko!” "I don't think.. it's a... oh, there are tentacles... nevermind." Janus: "When we kill you, I'm gonna whittle a chamber pot out of your stump you morally bankrupt piece of driftwood." Archie: "And I'm gonna make a radical boogie board." MJ: “Can I get a bong?” Janus: "There should be plenty of wood so why not?" OOC: Oh, shit, he’s got truck parts? He’s one of those freaky wood transformers! MJ: “Lightning bolt no Justu!” Amber: "MJ, you aren't a shinobi." MJ: “Wait… I’m not?!? Then how did I shoot lightning?” Cookie: "What is a ... shinobi?" MJ: “Thinly sliced raw fish.” Amber: "Trained warriors from the far east who can cast what they call jutsus with various hand signs." Cookie: "Spellcasting spy fish from the east... got it..." OOC: Put the boots to him, Bizarre-style. “Does it feel like we’re beating up a one legged guy in an ass kicking contest?” We just hold a conversation as their screams echo behind us. “So… did that seem too easy to anyone else?” Oh gods, why have you forsaken us? Was it when we peed in the holy water fountain? Amber: "Now, no one say anything to jinx us and bring down more trouble on us. Especially not that Flint is still alive and waiting for us at the main treasure horde. Darn it! I've spent too much time with you guys." “Oh, hi, Melfina with karate chop action.” "You be a dick you get large phallic burning objects put in you.”

"She knows what she was saying..." "Ded also pirate. Ded just not asshole." "Close only counts in Ogres and Oubliettes." “This seems like it would be more tragic if you’d been a likable father figure instead of some mutinous asshole with a tree-man for a leg.” Pete can be on corpse-dragging duty. As an object lesson. “Anyone want one last puff?” "Thank you, but i'm sure the sight beyond will shock us sober." "Ever get that feeling like you're walking into a monsters mouth?" "Ded actually do that once." "How'd that turn out..?" "Monster surprisingly tasty." * Impressed Tortle Noises * "Ded get feeling economy not ready for this much cash injection." "We'll buy a new economy... Don't worry about it..." "This is Melfina's money after all, do keep that in mind." “Melfina, I need to tell you about student loan debt, and why it is bullshit.” “Nope! Black ships, wrecked or not are a sign of Eldritch NOPE!” "Unless the sword is also wood, I doubt it's a vampire." "Hail and well met, Princess Leshavna. I am a servant of your brother, Kevosh, Prince of Worldly libations. He's the one that likes looking like a nine foot tall owlin." “Oh, hey, is this a Dragonborn? Is your junk on the inside or out?” "I cannot answer that, Lady Jonni, there is a child present." “What kind of sick fuck calls Vesh when there are kids around? Do you know what we’re doing 70% of the time?” “No.”

"Gold zombie..." "I knew it, no place could contain a soul that evil. Even if he died they would boot him out for trying to take over." "Please don't be a dracolich, please." GM: Next time, The Final Boss: Captain Finatrax Flint! OOC: Riftrax Flint? Sounds like a great time. OOC: I'll give them another few minutes and if they aren't on we'll get started without them. OOC2: They’re usually late due to dinner. And could be taco night. Taco night goes longer. OOC: My parents made rack of lamb. Our oven sucks. OOC: Alright, it's past my bedtime. Got to brush my teeth and put plastic wrap over my eyes. Night!

[erensangel444]

safari sexscapades

atsumu x reader

all characters in this fic are aged up!(so post time skip!atsumu) @obitobrigade gave me this idea and i’m so excited to write it! 

this fic is atsumu x fem!reader, if you guys would want to see some gender neutral fics just let me know in my asks inbox! i’m open to any suggestions, if you want a fic that’s specifically tailored to you whether that be race-wise, gender-wise, any disabilities, etc,. just let me know!

likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated:D

this fic has been proofread but if i missed something just let me know!

a/n: EEK! i hope this turns out to y’alls liking:))))

i just finished writing and SHIT! this is probably the most fun i’ve had writing a fic:D

warnings: smut: slight spit kink, degrading, humiliation, praise, unprotected sex(wrap ur willy silly), oral(fem!receiving), cumplay, slight fearplay.

word count: 4.1k

summary: atsumu and the reader decide to take a spontaneous trip, visiting different countries each week. on the second week of june, their stop is kenya. atsumu pays big bucks for an independent safari with the reader, how about a little pit-stop?

the sunlight that was softly hitting your face, and warming your body under the covers, gently shifted you into wakefulness. you opened your eyes to atsumu’s sleeping figure beside you, drool running down the corner of his mouth.

he always looked so peaceful when he slept, his dark eyebrows furrowed softly, his lips left slightly open. you traced your nails up and down his chest, admiring the sight in front of you as atsumu began to stir in his sleep.

“good morning,” he rumbled, wrapping his arms around your body to pull you closer. “good morning,” you softly replied, giving him a chaste kiss on his chest. “don’t wanna’ get up yet,” he said softly, a slight rasp still accompanying his voice. “me neither,” you sighed, reveling in the warmth that atsumu’s body gave off. 

abruptly, you were flipped over, causing you to squeal as atsumu’s body towered over your own. you could still note the sleep in his eyes, but the smirk on his face and the twinkle in his eyes overpowered it. “there is one thing i would wake up for, though,” he rasped, leaning down to place kisses on your neck. 

“you fucking perv!” you joked, grinning up at atsumu. “well, then tell me you don’t want it to,” atsumu said, rolling his hips into yours, his hard-on brushing against your clothed center, causing you to let out a soft sigh. 

“i want it,” you said softly, atsumu chuckling from above you. “so easy, sweetheart. thought you’d at least put up a little fi-” “just fuck me!” you interrupted him, atsumu’s laughter growing in volume.

your hands reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging at it, atsumu understanding the message. atsumu lifted the shirt over his head, grinning down at you as he gently lifted you from the mattress, tugging your shirt over your head. 

even after being with atsumu all this time, you could never get over his body, perks of him being a pro-volleyball player, you guessed. his abdomen was toned, soft v-line diving into his hips. he was sculpted like a greek god almost, but you would never tell him that lest his ego gets any bigger.

“ya like what ya see?” atsumu broke you from your thoughts, you could hear the smile in his voice. you must have been staring for too long. in an attempt to bite back, you reached for the clasp meeting at the middle of your back. 

you and atsumu had gotten back to the villa late last night, the two of you had been clubbing, copious amounts of alcohol running through your system. last night you couldn’t be bothered to do anything but sleep, so you changed into one of atsumu’s shirt and knocked out on the bed. 

you removed the bra from your figure, throwing it across the room. you grabbed your breasts in your hands, running your thumb over your nipple, whimpering at the contact for dramatic effect. “ya like what ya see?” you smiled innocently, mimicking atsumu’s response. 

“oh you’re in for it now,” he groaned, spreading your legs. a blush quickly rushed to your face, as you knew your arousal was already apparent on your lace panties. “guess ya did like what you saw,” atsumu teased, but before you could tell him to fuck off, he ran a finger up and down your clothed center.

you don’t know what it was about atsumu, but any time you had sex, you were always so sensitive. everything he did felt good, too good. your responses to his touch would cause atsumu to say that he was the ‘only one who could fuck you right’, and you didn’t disagree. in your previous relationships, none of them had made you feel like atsumu does. 

“so sensitive princess,” atsumu smirked up at you, rubbing two fingers over your clit that was still covered by the lace panties. “please,” you whimpered, rutting into his hand in hopes for more, for anything. “please what,” atsumu faked confusion through his expression, “ya know ya gotta be specific,”.

“want more! want your,” you hesitated for a moment, embarrassment slowly catching up with you, “w-want your fingers and your t-tongue,”. atsumu grinned at your response, tapping at your hips for you to lift, and pulling your panties down your leg. 

he ran two fingers through your dripping slit, bringing them to the light, staring you down as if telling you, ‘that’s how wet i made you’. “stop, tsumu, that’s embarrassing,”, you said softly, the heat in your cheeks rising. atsumu just smiled at you, brought his fingers to his mouth, closing his lips around their circumference, licking off your arousal, all while making eye contact with you.

fuck, you thought, he’s trying to kill me.

“ya taste so good angel!” atsumu said, excitement lacing his voice, “think i need a better taste, yeah?”. atsumu pushed your legs apart, eyeing your arousal before looking back up at you, smirking. 

he latched his tongue around your clit, lightly sucking, moans flying from your mouth freely now. your moans acted as encouragement for him as he began to suck harder, fingers toying with your entrance. 

atsumu shifted his actions, bringing his tongue down to your entrance, and a thumb up to your clit, to lightly circle the bundle of nerves. he pushed his tongue into your entrance now, his thumb still moving too slowly, too softly, but you knew this was intentional. he wanted you to beg, he wanted to whittle you down to nothing more than a slut, hungry for orgasm.

your hips began grinding, in search of more pleasure as atsumu ceased his actions, causing you to groan. he looked up at you, face dead-serious, eyes blank with almost no expression. 

“why are you grinding your hips like a little slut? is this not enough for you?” his hands reached to cup your cheeks, as he brought his face to tower above yours. “it’s never enough for you is it, always need,” he began to mimic your desperate whines, “more, please more!”. 

he smirked down at you, basking in your needy expression. “open,” he said firmly, your body not hesitating to listen. you opened your mouth, your tongue lolling out, atsumu spitting in your mouth. you knew better than to swallow, better than to do something without him saying so, so you waited. 

“now you’re being a good little girl!” atsumu’s smile returned to his face, “swallow,”. he moved back down to in between your legs, looking up at you as he spoke, “now you’re gonna take what i give you since you wanted more, right?”, you nodded at his words. 

“need to hear ya, angel,” “yes i’ll take it l-like a good girl,” you spoke softly, your arousal pooling into your brain causing your thoughts to only be atsumu. “good girl,” he said, his words muffled as his tongue began to place kitten licks on your clit. 

slowly, but surely, atsumu gave you more.

his fingers were plunging in and out of your entrance, the action obvious as the arousal from your center began to sound throughout the room, accompanying your loud moans. his kitten licks on your clit had progressed to harsh sucks, his tongue matching the fervor of his fingers. 

“fuck! gonna, gonna cum! please!” you moaned loudly, atsumu’s fingers retaining their speed. his actions on your clit slowed as he spoke, “not until i say so,”, fast kitten licks being placed on your clit.

“c-can’t hold it! tsumu please!” “not until i say so, be a good girl,” “f-fuck! please, please, please, please!”, please seemingly the only word in your vocabulary, your mind dumbed down by atsumu’s tongue and fingers. 

“cum,” he said plainly, reverting to sucking on your clit harshly, his fingers curling up, tickling that spot. your orgasm took over your whole body, the power of it causing you to curl your toes, your fingers to grip atsumu’s hair, your neck to crane. as it washed over you, atsumu continued his actions until your body began squirming, a new level of sensitivity running over you. 

“too-too much!” you yelped, atsumu retreating, your arousal covering his lips, the tip of his nose, and the bottom of his cheeks. you laid on the mattress, trying to regain your breath as atsumu came to lie next to you. “did so good for me angel,” he said, his fingers tracing your shoulder. after lying for a minute, you were ready to help atsumu, ready to feel him inside of you.

“wanna help you now,” you said plainly, moving to straddle atsumu. “are you sure? not too sensitive?” “i promise, just wanna help you, wanna feel you,” you rambled, staring down at atsumu. “do as you please, angel,”

you grabbed the base of his cock, the tip prodding at your entrance. you began to slowly sink down his length, a slight burn at the intrusion, but you pushed past it. finally reaching his base, you paused for a moment, breathing deeply. you felt so full, it was almost overwhelming. 

you brought your lips down to atsumu’s, bringing him in for a passionate kiss before placing your hands on his chest for support. you slowly began to lift your hips up and down his length, bouncing on his cock. 

as your bounces grew in speed and succession, atsumu’s smug exterior began to falter more and more. his eyes were screwed shut, his eyebrows furrowed more than when he was asleep. his cheeks now had a light pink tint to them, his lips lightly swollen from kissing you.

he opened his eyes to your head thrown back, your tits bouncing in rhythm with your movements on his cock. “fuck, so pretty,” he groaned, moving his hands to grip onto your hips, lifting you up and down his cock manually. 

as atsumu began to rise closer and closer to climax, his actions slowed as he let you take over. you were grinding, bouncing on his cock, moaning incoherent phrases at the pleasure. “angel! angel! i’m gonna-gonna cu-” his words turned into a loud groan, as atsumu thrust his hips up a few more times, climaxing.

you could feel his load inside of you, so warm, so full. atsumu came down from his orgasm, speaking softly, “wanna push it back inside of you,” referring to his cum deep inside of you. he lifted you off of his cock, settling in between your legs as he eyed your center closely. his cum began to dribble out of your entrance, atsumu bringing two fingers to collect the drips, pushing the liquid back into your entrance. 

atsumu shuffled up to lay next to you, plopping his head down on the pillow. “i’m spent,” he looked over at you, softly smiling, “back to sleep?” he asked, moving the comforter further up his body. “bathroom first, i’m not getting an STI cause of your horndog-self,” “well you were happy with my horndog-self a couple of minutes ago” atsumu teased, resulting in you hitting him in his chest.

you got out of the bed, headed towards the bathroom, atsumu whistling at the sight of your naked backside. you did a little twirl as a joke, smiling at atsumu as you headed for the bathroom. 

3 hours later and you found yourself snuggled into atsumu’s body as he lightly snored above you. you decided that it was definitely time to get up, softly removing yourself from atsumu’s body and throwing on a light pink robe. 

you walked into the kitchen, starting the coffeepot as you admired the view you had from the villa. kenya was absolutely beautiful. the first two days were spent on beaches, trips to the massai market, and sightseeing. 

as the last drops of coffee fell into the pot, you felt a large presence behind you, atsumu’s arms wrapping around your stomach as he nuzzled his face into your neck. “good morning,” he said softly, “again,” he chuckled. 

you turned around to meet atsumu’s face, pulling him in for a kiss as you muttered out a good morning in reply. atsumu grabbed two coffee cups from the cabinet, setting them down and pouring coffee into them. 

there you and atsumu were on the balcony, sipping coffee while enjoying each other’s company. you smiled at atsumu as he rambled on about your plans for the day, your ears perking up at the words safari. “a safari?” atsumu smiled at your subtle enthusiasm as he spoke, “yeah! i paid for an independent one, so we’ll have our own jeep and everything,” his smile growing as one appeared on your face. you set your coffee down on the table next to you, smiling at atsumu.

you gave him a chaste kiss, softly letting out a thank you as you grinned. you headed back for the doors into the villa. “i’m gonna go shower,” you turned back to say to atsumu, “you should probably come with me, to save water and everything, you know?”. atsumu grinned at you as he rushed towards you, picking you up and carrying you towards the bathroom, the two of you a mess of squeals and laughter.

you had decided on a comfortable outfit, leggings and one of atsumu’s shirts. atsumu donned similar apparel, wearing 5 inseam athletic shorts, and msby jackals merchandise. the drive to the safari was nice, sza on shuffle, the windows to the car open as the wind rushed through you and atsumu’s hair. 

after arriving, the safari workers assigned you an atsumu a keep, handing you a set of keys, a page of instructions, and a map.

atsumu smiled at you, holding open the door to the passenger side of the jeep. you thanked him with a soft kiss, shuffling into the seat, bubbling over with excitement. you heard the driver-side door open, atsumu getting into the car, smiling at you. “ya ready?” he asked, the smile yet to leave his face. you nodded at him, holding his hand that rested on the console, returning his smile with a similar one. 

your excitement had not settled, and the safari had yet to disappoint. with the package that atsumu had purchased(and the bit that he secretly paid a little extra for), you had your own separate path away from any safari tour buses, or other independent jeeps. the jeep had a walkie-talkie that you had to check in every 30 minutes. 

atsumu had just checked in, signaling that everything was fine as you admired your surroundings. you had passed by numerous animals, meerkats dashing past the front of the car, causing atsumu to abruptly stop sometimes. after they dashed in front of the vehicle, they’d peer up at the car before dashing away. 

you had also passed a herd of elephants, causing you to let out a gasp as you admired the beautiful creatures, atsumu’s heart racing at your happiness. 

as you looked out the window, eyeing the trees and the grass-covered land, the car abruptly stopped. you let out a ‘huh?’ turning to atsumu, an all-too-familiar look in his eyes. atsumu’s hand made its way to the back of your head, pulling you in for a rough kiss. 

“backseat, now” atsumu spoke harshly, and you didn’t hesitate, moving on top of the console and into the backseat, atsumu’s hand lightly slapping your ass. next thing you knew atsumu was under you as you sat on his lap, his covered-hard on so blatantly obvious as you rocked your hips atop his lap. 

atsumu brought you in for another kiss, whimpers falling from both of your lips, but abruptly stopping as the pair of you heard a low growl. “tsumu?” you said softly, fear slowly creeping up on you. atsumu lightly rubbed circles into the side of your hip, as his other hand turned your face to look back at him. 

“i got you, the jeep’s covered we’re alright,” he reassured you, “and it makes it that much more fun, yeah?” he smirked, bringing you in for another kiss. in your relationship with atsumu you had definitely set new boundaries in your sex life. he pushed you out of your comfort zones, yet was always so cautious with you. 

as the kiss got more desperate, you fumbled with atsumu’s shirt pulling it over his head, tracing your hands over his body. you pulled your hands away reluctantly, pulling off your shirt and leaning back in for another kiss.

atsumu’s hands made their way up to the clasp of your bra, unclipping it, and letting the fabric fall down your body. you pulled away from the kiss, tugging at atsumu’s shorts as he lifted his hips slightly, giving you the ability to tug the shorts down to his knees. you quickly rushed to meet his lips again, desperate for the feel of atsumu’s lips. you attempted to take off your pants in the process, huffing out a sigh of frustration when you couldn’t.

you plopped yourself down into the seat next to him, tugging of your leggings as you muttered out angrily, ‘fuckin clothes’, atsumu chuckling at your desperation. atsumu took the opportunity to fully remove his own shorts + boxers, looking over at you once he was done. seeing that your leggings were removed, your underwear along with them, he pulled you back onto his lap, kissing you once more. 

“fuck, want ya so bad, angel,” “then take me,” you moaned onto his lips, atsumu positioning the tip of his cock at his entrance. neither of you felt the need for foreplay, too desperate to feel one another. as atsumu pushed inside of you, you both let out soft groans, moaning at the feeling. 

“tsumu, more!” you almost yelled, finally adjusted to the feeling of atsumu’s cock inside of you. another low growl sounded outside the car, the fear giving a soft spike to your system as you clenched around atsumu’s cock, atsumu groaning at the feeling and throwing his head back. 

“jeez angel, should fuck you around lions more often,” you slapped his chest at his horrible joke, the fear still lingering but slowly dissipating as atsumu began to thrust inside of you. he held you by the hips, lifting you up and down his cock as you remained pliant, moaning at the pleasure he was giving you. 

eventually, he plopped you back down on his cock, slapping your backside, which caused you to jolt forward and moan at the feeling. “get to work, angel,” atsumu spoke, his hands finding purchase on your tits as his thumbs lightly brushed over your nipples.

you began to grind on atsumu’s cock, moaning at the friction, one of atsumu’s hands coming down to rub at your clit. the walkie-talkie began to sound throughout the car as you looked down at atsumu who seemed to be ignoring it, his eyes burning holes through your breasts. 

“tsumu, the walkie!” you said, urgency lacing your voice. you worried that you hadn’t heard it before and now they were coming out to find you & atsumu and in turn, find you in such a compromising position. 

“oh, ya want them to hear us? want them to hear how good i’m giving it to you,” he groaned at the feeling of your walls clenching him, “so now i can check fear play and exhibitionism off the list,” he smirked at you as you blushed at his words, continuing to grind on his cock, nuzzling your face in his shoulder.

"though i feel like we’ve already checked exhibitionism off the list,” he continued, the person’s voice on the walkie talkie continuing to sound throughout the car, atsumu’s voice overpowering it. “you remember that bathroom at the restaurant in rome?” atsumu teased, “god you were so desperate for me, such a little sl-” “tsumu!”. atsumu smirked up at you, happy with his ability to embarrass you with moments like those. 

“fine, i’ll answer the walkie-talkie,” he said, caging you in with one arm, his legs supporting both your bodies as he lifted up from the seat, his arm reaching for the device in the front seat. “hi!” he said, his voice surprisingly unbothered as he settled back down into the seat. “sorry it took so long to answer, i was admiring such a beautiful view,” he spoke, staring right at you as his hands traced over your breasts down to your stomach. “we’re thinking of stay-” his voice slightly faltered as you bounced on his cock, atsumu covering it with a cough, “staying out for a few more hours, um-until sunset, is that alright?”. 

you could hear the person on the walkie-talkie reply, assuring atsumu that it was perfectly fine. “we’ll check in again at sunset,” atsumu said, his hand falling back to your clit, his teeth biting into his bottom lip. “th-thank you” you said, atsumu letting go of the button on the walkie talkie. the desperation was so obvious in your voice, atsumu smirking at the idea of the worker knowing that you were getting fucked so good.

“i gotta cum angel,” atsumu groaned, holding your hips once more as he thrust in and out of your entrance, both of your moans growing in volume. you were so close, just a little more. atsumu could tell. whenever you were close to climax, your tongue lolled out of your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut softly.

he brought his hand to your neck, his thrusts not faltering in speed or intensity. “yeah, you like that huh? like to be choked like a little slut?” atsumu’s words were the push you needed, sending you tumbling over the edge of your orgasm, a moaning mess in the process. your walls convulsing around his cock sent atsumu into his own orgasm, his warm seed filling you as he groaned at the feeling.

your head fell into atsumu’s shoulder, the both of you panting, attempting to regain a steady breathing pattern. you lifted yourself off of atsumu’s cock, the slight burn returning due to how sensitive you were. sitting in the seat next to atsumu, you laid your head on his shoulder, slowing your breathing. 

“that was some good sex,” atsumu said abruptly causing you to let out a soft laugh. you lifted your head off of his shoulder, smiling at him as you grabbed your leggings and panties from the ground. atsumu pulled you back to his body, holding you close to him. 

“tsumu gotta get dressed, don’t wanna be caught naked in a jeep on a fuckin safari,” you squirmed, “oh my god we should probably clean up, do you have wipes or anything? i feel so bad other people have to use this t-” atsumu cut your rambling short, kissing you, your words melting onto his lips. 

“i guess getting dressed can wait,” you said jokingly, kissing atsumu back. you laid back on atsumu’s shoulder, looking out the window from earlier. you saw a lion off in the distance, presuming that to be the source of the growls from earlier. atsumu placed a kiss atop your head, his hand softly rubbing on your thigh.

atsumu had the idea of taking a quick power nap before heading to a different location to watch the sunset. you forced him to put on some clothes and then laid down in his lap as he played with your hair, a 30-minute timer set on your phone. the harsh alarm from your phone began its incessant beeping as you rubbed at your eyes.

atsumu stirred from above you as you sat up from his lap. above the clear cover of the jeep was a giraffe, its neck craning over the top of the car. “tsumu! tsumu, look!” you tapped at his shoulder, atsumu still adjusting to being awake. he looked over at you, then out of the car, spotting the giraffe. 

he looked back at you, admiring the astonishment on your features, a large smile finding its way onto his face. eventually, the two of you were back in the front seat, atsumu turning the key in the jeep, driving in hopes of finding a spot to watch the sunset.

he eventually parked in an area that had a small vicinity clear of trees, the sky melting into an orange and pink color. his hand sat atop your thigh as he looked over at you, still reeling from seeing that giraffe, “tsumu it was huge!”

after your safari tour had ended, you and atsumu had driven to a market, grabbing some fruits and different types of granola for smoothie bowls. making your way back into the villa, atsumu left a playful pat on your backside, causing you to turn back and give him a not-so-threatening glare. 

the blender was running, a mix of fruit and milk in the machine. atsumu had topped off the smoothie bowls with more fruits and the granolas you had picked up from the market. 

“ya know, angel,” atsumu started, “i think we should make like a bucket list, but for sex,” he stated every so seriously. “tsumu, you’re not funny,” you rolled your eyes at him. 

“who said i was kidding, i mean think about what we did today, i feel like we checked off a lot of stuff and i mean a lo-” “tsumu!”

[docholligay]

Shamash answers: Other

Y’all REALLY brought the energy I wanted tot his one, well done! There were so many fantastic answers that it was hard to whittle down. 

SHAMASH QUESTION: For our ten year anniversary, my wife and I are having a vow renewal/excuse for a huge party with a "The Outfit You Never Get To Wear/Outshine the Brides" theme. The idea is an outfit you love but never have the occasion to wear, anything from cosplay to your wedding dress to whatever. Tell me what you're wearing!

I’d finally shell out the money and get Oscar’s French Guard uniform from Rose of Versailles. Modern military uniforms have nothing on that amazing jacket. --@Automatuck9

Oh fuck me. I just wear all my dresses even when they're somewhat formal looking. And I have never had an excuse to buy something ridiculously fancy and have never cispkahed so... Honestly, I'd have to go buy one. That's so boring, I know, but why even own a petticoat if you don't use it? So, assuming I can buy something and assuming I have a decent chunk of money to spend, I'd assume I wouldn't have another chance to wear it so would buy some stupid high fashion nonsense outfit that looks more like it belongs in a fantasy movie than real life. Because, fuck it, if we're going to wear something we never get the chance to wear, let's go all the way there. -- @madegeeky

A replica of the Worth pumpkin gown circa 1865-1867. The skirt has a diameter of like, 5 feet, it's bright orange, and the corset make my boobs look great.  --- @lookingforsarahjay 

Long, turquoise vintage (ish; bridesmaid dress form I think the eighties?) dress over my hoop skirt. Hair up with a tiara. A good half my ring collection and the pearl necklace my grandmother gave me. GLITTER MAKEUP -- Lou

3-piece suit with as much jewelry as I can fit. Earrings, tie pin, cuff links, lapel pin, rings. Heck, I'll put on a cape just to wear a broach. Colors of the outfit to be decided based on the weather and location. --Arcadia

My black velvet gown with sequined sparkly neckline, and tons of white jewelry: elaborate necklace, crystal drop earrings, and a tiara.  Simple red lipstick, black eyeliner and hair in an elaborate updo with delicate curls down on the sides.  I haven't worn this gown in years but always feel like a princess when I do wear it. --@amberlilly

wait, seriously?? bitch, i will learn to WELD --- @rasiqra-revulva Yes, this is completely genuine, and IF I INVITE YOU WILL YOU WELD??? I think my wife would love you anyhow. 

Jill and I have often lamented that we live in a world where no one holds like, formal balls, and so for our tenth we wanted to give people an occasion to wear fuck you fantasy historical ridiculous outfits or whatever. A FORMAL BALL. 

I think I’m going to wear something like this:

Any maybe change into this at some point:

And I will do different hyper-styled wigs for both. 

[fragileizywriting]

secrets

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I want to see you. I want your talkative companionship for just a little while longer, if that’s alright with you.

He is helpless to her wishes. After all, the demonic seal that is tattooed onto his chest and onto her ear lobes are exactly for that— whatever his Lady and Princess wants, so long as it is in reason, he’ll try to provide it to her. Her words aren’t chains or shackles— they are quiet and reasonable guides. She speaks the words out loud, wanting, wishing to be heard and understood, and Chat listens— listens to Marinette, his mother’s Ladybug, and he answers. It’s not an even exchange— not yet, anyway. He will do her bidding so long as she is willing to give in return.

At first, it had meant nothing to him— he’s been privy to working for humans before, and had never felt an inkling of affection or sympathy. Making a deal with a demon just means that their soul will be taken and corrupted whenever their wishes are done and completed, and he’s never felt bad about making deals with adults who crave power and indulgence. Their souls are filled with tar whenever he consumes and eats them, but it settles the hunger in his stomach. He’s never thought of anything less.

Until now, of course.

Marinette. Marinette. How could he ever take her soul away? How can he sit here, knowing that the hummingbird beating of her soul one day is going to end up inside of him instead of where it belongs? How could he live with himself, knowing that he’d ruined her this way? Even though Marinette made the deal with him willingly, there— there must be a way to get rid of the tattoos on their skin.

He can’t do this to her.

He has to keep looking.

He’ll search everywhere for an answer. Every textbook, every witch. Every spare piece of gossip from Alya. There must be a way to break and erase the tattoos that burn on their skin. He’ll do her bidding regardless— he’ll help her with her wishes to cast the miraculous cure— but he can’t do it knowing that her soul is on the line.

The world is so big, and yet, it always surprises him to think that he’s ended up in Ladybug’s life. The girl who worships and works for his mother from first breath to last, trying to make a world a better place— he can’t take away Ladybug’s soul, can he? He’s in a predicament in that sense, too. If his mom were to find out that he’d been planning on eating a Ladybug’s soul, he’s certain to get a scolding of a lifetime for it. But he doesn’t know what to do— it’s almost as if they were put together for a reason.

And the reason, he suspects, might be because of his father— with that shit-eating grin he’d had on his face the moment that portal had opened up in the throne room just as Chat Noir had walked in, claiming that it was time for Chat Noir to experience the new.

He’s yet to get an answer from that god if this is what he meant.

Maybe Tikki already knows. It’s possible she does— after all, Marinette does her bidding quite a lot. Surely his mom has already felt the whispers of his magic tainting everything that Marinette does as well, right? And knowing her, she’s probably adamant about the two of them staying together.

“I used to get a lot of migraines when I was younger,” He breaks the silence in the living room.

Marinette’s eyes are distant again, even as she watches him eat her piece of honey she’d given him. It’s a silence he doesn’t know how to navigate very well— he doesn’t know what to say or do. The honeycomb tastes too brittle without her company, so he doesn’t know whether to stop eating and just wait for her, or try prodding at the silence.

It’s been a little while that he’s transformed back into his normal form, with them sitting in the living room seating area in front of the fireplace he’s poked back into life. It helps— sometimes, not always— that he’s capable of using fire magic. There’s no need for any matches of any kind when all he has to do is create flames in the palm of his hand. His magic isn’t as generalized as Marinette’s is— most of his spells he’s learned are, after all, to cause as much chaos as possible. Fire, floods, earthquakes, cataclysms— all of it is in the realm of his hands.

He doesn’t know how to mend things. It’s never been his strong suit.

She startles, realizing that he’s trying to have a conversation with her. Trying to complete her wish in the best way he knows how. “You did?”

He blinks slowly, trying to figure out how to approach the topic, so he tries for a smile. “Don’t tell anyone that the great Chat Noir is susceptible to headaches, the last thing we need is another myth circulating around the world that Plagg’s prodigy is nothing more than a demon that is sensitive to light. Let’s keep it a secret between us.”

“Of course,” She nods, not exactly understanding that he’s being sarcastic. Her hair is ink against her skin as she sits properly on the couch with him, tucking her shoulder into one of the back pillows. “How bad were the migraines? How long they did they last?”

Is Marinette trying to get more information so she can read about it? That seems most likely— he could mention that he sneezes at a certain smell and she’d disappear with the scent entirely within hours. It’s a miracle he’d convinced her to not toss out all of the scented soap the moment she’d learned that his nose is capable of picking up practically anything— Marinette cares about him too much.

Still though. He can’t force himself to lie to her— not when he’s trying to make sure that she knows that he’s always available to listen to what bothers her. “I wish I could say they weren’t too detrimental, but… the migraines got so bad that most of my memories from childhood are gone.”

It’s warmer than it was before, and even with the lack of fur he can feel that the cottage is at a reasonable temperature. She’s not shivering anymore, which is good— Marinette shivers from simply a threat of a cold draft, he’d hate to have her actually be freezing. Her brows crinkle at whatever she’s thinking, trying to place her thoughts together. “What? Y-you don’t remember your childhood? Any of it? At all?”

“No.” He taps on the plate in his lap. “I don’t remember much of those days. Practically nothing— my memories are entirely blank and dark. Huge portions of my life are missing.”

“Chat,” She gasps. “How— you—”

“It’s not that bad. Twelve-ish years of life disappeared, sure, but that’s okay. I’ve been told that I’ll live for hundreds of years, so I can’t be too upset that a couple of years disappeared.”

“Oh. Yes, of course,” The sides of her mouth tick down. “I forgot that demons live for long periods of time.”

“My parents never thought of me as less for it, and it doesn’t sound like those years are fun to remember, either. From the parts I can still remember, it was a lot of seeing my parents in the throne room looking scared and confused while I cried for my mom, begging her to hold me and comfort me.”

“Chat,” Her face pinches.

He continues with a smile, trying not to feel elated that Marinette is so easy to sympathize with him. “My mom used to say that the migraines got so bad that she would have to sit with me for days for it to go away. Trust me, Princess, I’m fine now. I haven’t had any migraines in years. Mom always called our moments together as bonding-time, although I think it was just to make me feel better.”

“Tikki said that?” There’s a bit of humor on her face, a fleeting little bit of amusement in her eyes even as she thinks about his blanked memory, the same humor from bringing up the silly argument they always have with each other.

Marinette is still convinced, even after all this time, that the Goddess really isn’t his mother— that he makes it up for humor. After all, according to Marinette, Plagg and Tikki aren’t really together, they’re gods— they don’t have children. They’re from completely different realms— why would his deity Plagg and her deity Tikki be together? Why would Tikki and Plagg have a child? And why him?

No offense, of course. But he understands what she means— he doesn’t really look like either of them. His mom talks about him as if he’s a miracle. But still— and this is integral— why would Plagg and Tikki be together? Marinette doesn’t ever understand.

But then again…

She has no idea about the loving glances his parents give to each other.

She has no idea about how every time his mother would leave hell to go take care of her own domain, his father would spend every day waiting for her to come home by carving little wooden statues by hand. Large, calloused, working hands of a god as old as time, whittling away at pieces of wood so smooth and soft that it looked like he was cutting through butter with a knife.

She has no idea how many yearning nights he’d spend at his dad’s feet, listening to Plagg talk about how much he loves his mother, and how they both miss her dearly, with his father creating little wooden dolls to keep his hands busy while he wishes for Tikki to come back to them. Each wooden doll more elaborate than the last. Each wooden doll more delicate than the last. A horse— a princess— a dragon— a demon— a rose. Sometimes his father would even carve a little doll of Tikki for himself, and smooth his thumb over the little figure whenever his missing got too much for him.

Chat Noir still has a couple of the gifted wooden dolls still in his room lining his shelves, each doll a scene from a story that Plagg would tell to keep him entertained as little Chat Noir gripped his leg in sadness. Knights and dragons and princesses and Ladybug’s that healed the sick with just her hands, and Chat Noir’s that ate the sun to give fire to the humans just to watch explosions and war dot across the Earth.

He always wished he had the skill to create like his dad. He always chalked it up to not having enough patience to shave away at bark. Besides, his hands are more suited to tearing and grabbing. He’d keep himself busy, waiting for his mother to return, by hunting the wanted whose faces were always plastered outside the castle walls, bringing the hunted into the throne room by carrying them over his shoulder or dragging them in by the leg.

He’d take a few Earth jobs, too, whenever a summoning portal was open and he was in the area and didn’t have any immediate plans. As long as he sent a letter back down through the portal notifying he was on Earth, his father didn’t mind him leaving hell.

Marinette also has no idea about the plentiful gifts that Tikki would bring back from her domain, with flowers large and plentiful in her arms to decorate their rooms. They have always been his favorite gift from hers whenever she returns. No amount of trinkets, or prizes— gold, jewelry, fruits from above ever caught his eye like the way they catch whenever she brings these to him.

Fire lilies.

For a man such as himself who’s entire myth and legend is simply just fire, and destruction— hell’s favorite golden and green child— seeing fire being associated with a flower always amazed him. Even as a young boy, when his blackened claws were much too sharp to take care and cultivate flowers like his mother, he always tried to keep himself from ruining the petals. Sometimes it got so bad that he’d beg his mother to keep the flowers with her so that they wouldn’t tear in his hands. Watch from afar. Admire them in a glass vase. Keep away from his hands.

The petals of these flowers are always so dark and red. Petals as red as his mother’s fiery hair, lively and beautiful. He always attempted to keep the fire lilies as alive as possible, knowing that the flower would break at the slightest indication of accidental injury. Every time a petal would fall off, he’d break from it.

Oh, he realizes. Marinette is his fire lily.

It makes sense. Of course it does. One of Tikki’s gifts happens to coincide with her most valued worker on Earth— the thought almost makes it difficult to breathe. Marinette is the one person in this entire world that he cares about at such a deep level.

He likes bantering with Luka— their fishing competitions are fun, even if the naga cheats.

He likes the rivalry between him and Alix, who is convinced that she can win against a legendary demon like him.

He likes talking with Alya, who has so much knowledge in her glittering brown eyes that it would take him entire lifetimes to parse through all of her silver and golden words.

He likes being with Nino, too— the one completely magic-less human who never treats him like a creature of the night and instead just his friend. He’s never had one before this.

But Marinette is the one person that he’d want to preserve, if he had to make that choice. His very own fire lily, the most beautiful and wonderful flower of all, safely kept. He wishes to keep her safe from harm. He wishes to keep her from hurting any more than what she already has.

The more and more he thinks about it, the less he realizes that he’s not paying attention to Marinette, who watches him in silence. By the time he’s out of his thoughts, Marinette’s looking at him with a knowing glint in her eye, one filled with soft humor, and it’s enough to give him hope that maybe he’s guiding the conversation into the right place, even if he doesn’t know where he’d left off. “So, Tikki would really comfort you?”

He thinks back to those earlier days. The days where he’d beg for his mother to stay— the days where he’d scream for no apparent reason at the sight of summoning portals being open, the days where he’d cry endlessly at the prospect of having to go through them. His mother never knew what to do. She’d sit there, bewildered, struggling to calm him down— he realizes, then, that he’s much in the same predicament. How would he calm down? What would get him to smile that day? Would the same tactic even work on Marinette?

“She’d sit with me. Sit with me a lot and just let me cry.” His voice is soft, nodding along to his own words. “To be fair, my mom had no idea what to do. She’d never had a child before. Every other Chat Noir that Plagg and hell had created before wasn’t exactly their own child. This was different.”

“She did well, if you turned out to be like this.” She pulls her knees up so she can hug them. She’s interested in his story. She always is. “I know I haven’t met every single demon, but you’re the nicest one I’ve met. And sweetest.”

“She’s nothing short of a perfectionist,” He winks, not letting his face stain red at the compliment no matter how hard his face wants to. “Nothing less for her. It took her a bit of time to understand my migraines. I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I remember parts of my childhood, but my parents told me that I was frequently inside a lot because of the migraines. The headaches would get so bad that I could hear light.”

“The great Chat Noir,” She murmurs, the smile small on her face, but there. “Who knew that this version of Chat Noir was prone to headaches?”

“Not all Chat Noirs are built the same, you know,” He grins. “Some of us can pull the sun out of the sky, it’s true. Hold the flame in our hands. Light the Earth on fire with it. And some Chat Noirs stay inside their dark bedroom for long periods of time, hopeful that the headache would pass.”

“Gets into fights with the local fishers, too.” She muses softly. “Technically wins because the fisher doesn’t have fire powers.”

“You got to take wins where you can get them,” He’s so happy when she finally laughs. He misses her laughter every time it’s away. “And the great Chat Noir never falters to do the impossible.”

Her laughter is light, and airy, but as sweet as the honey on his plate. “What would you do to keep yourself entertained, then, oh great Chat Noir?”

“Listen to my mom talk about my dad,” He tries not to scrunch his nose. He takes a bite from the honeycomb, trying not to think too hard about how he wouldn’t mind being that way with Marinette. Would she tell her children about him, if she were to ever have any? Why does the thought of being out of her life taste so sour on his tongue? “I’ve never heard two people more in love in my life.”

Marinette’s face brightens at his words. “They must be very lucky to have each other.”

He looks around the cottage, to all their little things they’ve collected while being together. He thinks about their hens, their meals together, the days where he’ll laze in the sun patch as she works on long and complicated spells that she doesn’t want help with. He thinks about her attempts at perfecting her fortune charms by loading his arms with so many beads that it’s almost impossible for him to move his arms. He thinks about the way she hides her face in his chest when she’s feeling afraid.

He’s lucky to have her. He hopes that she’s lucky to have him, too.

“They aren’t the only ones.”

AO3 | Start Here | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[theflashdriver]

Faux (A fake dating Silvaze Fic)

Here’s a little something I wrote to promote Silvaze Week 2020. It starts on September 27th, for more information please go see the Silvaze Week twitter! This story uses the oblivious prompt and is over 11,000 words wrong!

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“I still don’t think I get it, Blaze. If nothing’s changing, what’re you asking me to actually do?” Silver the hedgehog said, sat at the foot royal bed. A book was sprawled open in his lap, but his attention was fully focused on the princess.

Blaze the cat was supposed to be working at her desk. The sun was well on its way to setting yet papers were still stacked high before her; agreements to endorse and budgets to look over and constructions to sign off on, it was nothing too out of the ordinary. Rather than tending to those though, she’d turned her chair to discuss a more personal matter and project with her closest companion. She’d thought it would be easy to explain but, in hindsight, the plan she’d propose was nothing like their usual fair. It didn’t help matters that neither of them had any experience in this department. Well, as far as she knew, he didn’t.

“I’m proposing that you say and pretend that you’re my boyfriend, Silver. That’s really all there is to it,” She instructed, using as simple and plain terms as possible, “I’ll do the same for you and we’ll go on a date tomorrow,” She caught the flexing of his brow and elaborated further, “A fake date, of course, just something small, we could visit the beach for a picnic lunch?

“Right,” He nodded but confusion still twisted his face, “But I’ve never actually been a boyfriend before, how will I know what to do?” It didn’t surprise Blaze that he was willing to go along with this, but it did surprise her that, of all the first questions, he’d landed on that. Not why they were going through this in the first place, just what he was supposed to do; it was very like him, but it still managed to catch her off-guard.

“I’ve not been a girlfriend, we’re both going into this blind and I think that’s what’ll make the ruse more believable,” She answered, “Honestly, I don’t think you’ll have to do anything different. If anything, I’ll have to be a little more forward.”

“More forward?” His head gently tilted, and his eyes squinted; her phrasing was throwing him off. Perhaps she wasn’t being clear with him.

“We’re both new to this but I think it’s clear that I understand this potential task better than you. While I have not been in a relationship, those around me have,” Blaze elaborated, “That means I’ll have to take the lead, initiate bolder actions that’ll suggest to the public that we’re an actual couple; that we’re not just partners.”

Then again, that’d hardly be difficult. Silver was perfect for this plan because, frankly, that nature of their partnership was nebulous. They’d been mistaken for a couple more times than she could count. When Silver had first arrived in the Sol Dimension and her public had observed a total stranger hugging, laughing with and being doted on by the princess, rumours and gossip had quickly sailed to inform all corners of her kingdom. She’d never acknowledged that hearsay, denying a rumour only spread it further, but now she was going to use it to her advantage; she was going to turn that gossip on its head.

His ears were still slightly folded and, though it had faded, befuddlement lingered in his eyes and on his brow. The why was almost as important as the action itself, his curious nature would surely gnaw away at him and she wasn’t opposed to explaining. It was just a wordy and rather sad story, ideally the cliff notes alone would suffice.

“I know it’s all a little strange but my birthday’s only a couple of months away and I’m starting to worry,” Blaze began to explain, “When my mother turned eighteen, she started to get letters from suitors. People she’d never met wrote to her and asked for her hand in marriage. They were rich and powerful people, important to her kingdom but, equally, they were people she hardly even knew let alone loved,” The cogs in Silver’s head were turning, his fist tightened at what he surely thought and injustice, but Blaze thought it best to tell a more complete tale, “She was afraid to turn any of them down for fear of worsening her professional relationships but, atop that issue, she had already fallen in love with my father; she had a secret boyfriend. When that information became public those letters stopped arriving, but a few families felt as though they’d been led on and public relations worsened. Many of them refused to speak with her for several years, some won’t even speak to me.”

“What? People cut her off because she didn’t marry them, even though they didn’t even know her? Of course she didn’t want to marry them, why would she want to marry someone she doesn’t know?” Silver was aghast, she couldn’t help but smile at his innocence and the sense of justice behind it, “That’s awful! Did they just want to be in charge?”

“Yes,” Blaze affirmed, “They didn’t love her; they just wanted the royal name, be it to further their brands or grow their pride. A lot of parents wrote in on behalf of their children, many either much too old or much too young, offering them up to further the family’s social status.”

“So, you want to avoid all that by making them think you already have a boyfriend? That way, they won’t send any letters in the first place and won’t have anything to be angry about?” The hedgehog surmised. His stare was still galvanised by the tale of her mother.

“If you wouldn’t mind being that person Silver, yes,” Having made that request twice now, feeling a pang of guilt, Blaze hesitated, “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do this, but I know it’s a lot to ask. It’ll take up time and, obviously, stop you having this kind of relationship with anyone else. If you’re uncomfortable then we don’t have to, I don’t want to impose-

“If it’ll make you feel more comfortable, I’m willing to do anything, Blaze. I’ve never dated anyone before, but I’ll do my best to do it right,” Before she could finish, he’d bounded from his seated position and let his book tumble to the floor. He’d flown forward and taken her by the shoulders. When the hedgehog agreed to something, no matter how small, he made it his duty to see it through. She should have known that he’d want to see this through, “Starting tomorrow we’ll tell people that we’re dating. It can’t be that hard!”

The hedgehog had never quite understood personal space, his forehead was practically against hers and it’d only take a small push for their noses to collide. Blaze rolled her eyes, reaching up and returning his hold, “Thank you, Silver. Really, you have no idea how much more comfortable this will make me. I’ve been worrying about it for months now, weighing my options.”

“I just hope I can play the part well enough to convince everyone,” He awkwardly smiled, failing to mask his concern, “I’ve never had to act before, let alone trick people.”

“I doubt you’ll even have to act, just be yourself, you’re a very…” She searched for the perfect word, “Passionate person. When your mind is set on doing something, you invest in it so deeply; I’m sure that’ll come through and it’ll be more than enough,” Concern faded from his eyes, just a little, “But, like I said, I’ll take the lead. If I don’t think we’re being convincing enough, I’ll make a move.”

“Do you want me to do anything to help prepare? What about tomorrow’s date?” He asked, already trying to help even more, “I’ve got stuff back at the hut, I could easily put together a picnic if we do want to do a beach date?”

“I think that would be perfect, Silver,” She admitted, having intended to imply that was what she wanted later. Though he claimed to love her cooking, she had a far more rational palette, “This should be the last weekend before the weather turns, it’s already getting too cold for beach going. The crowds shouldn’t be huge but hopefully we’ll be visible enough that the word will spread itself.”

“We can go around the rock pools, walk along the beach and look for shells,” A new idea popped into his mind, his eyes lit up, “O-Or we could just relax if you prefer? Take a few books to read, maybe even get ice cream and…” Silver seemed to catch himself, his eyes began to lower, “I’m sorry, I’m trying to plan all this out. I want to help you Blaze; you should be free to choose who you want to love; you shouldn’t have to do this in the first place.”

He wanted to make things right, of course he did. The princess found herself shifting just a little closer as her grasp on him grew just a little tighter. Silver’s strong sense of justice didn’t have as many opportunities to shine through in this dimension, the world’s state of relative peace contributed to that, but it was a part of him she adored seeing. He was willing to put himself through so much and try so hard, she didn’t think he was romantically interested in anyone but even still; he was willing to put future romances on hold just so she could be comfortable.

“It’ll be easy, Silver. Don’t think of this like a date, think of it as one of our usual outings; like stargazing or visiting the crystal caves, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. We’ll do whatever comes naturally. All you need to do is stay by my side and be how you always are, all that’s changing is how we refer to each other,” Despite her reinforcement, his gaze drifted further from hers. She reached across and pushed his chin, turning him to face her. The worry seemed to vanish from his bright yellow eyes, “Just act natural, it’ll be fine. I’ll do the heavy lifting; it was my idea after all.”

“I’ll do my best,” As he promised, their heads came to touch. The contact seemed to invigorate him, “I’ll be the best boyfriend I can be! You don’t have to carry all the weight; I’ll handle it!”

Her smile only grew as she pushed against his contact, “You’re so naïve…”

----

Whittling the evening away, talking and toying with Silver, proved to be foolish. By the time he’d left, midnight was mere minutes away and a good two hours’ work still lay upon her desk. Coffee had helped her through it all but, unfortunately, it’d also scared away sleep for an additional hour at least. By the time she’d finally drifted off, it couldn’t have been far from four.

The princess awoke just after nine, her head made heavy and ears brought to curl by the incessant blaring of her alarm clock. Groggily rising, stretching cricks from her body, Blaze managed to stumble the path from her bed into her en suite. Warm water and morning rituals washed away much of her morning daze, though a small pain continued gnawing just behind her forehead. She supposed it was her own fault for leaving so much undone, but it surely wouldn’t make today any easier.

This proved to be true as the princess entered her walk-in wardrobe only to find herself befuddled. She’d already chosen an outfit for today, the same outfit she usually wore (her long sleeved tabard and tights, her standard guardian-wear), but, for whatever reason, it wasn’t appealing to her. Something about it didn’t seem right for today, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Though she didn’t fight her gut intuition, Blaze told herself that it was the fault of nerves and a want to be more convincing more than anything. After all, the public had seen her dressed like that and with him a good few dozen times. Rather than take the garb at the front of her closet, she pressed herself to take a few steps deeper inside. Her stomach fizzed at the sight of jeans, dresses and other casual wear. She’d never intended to wear most of these articles, but they’d gathered here regardless of her want.

Most of her alternate outfits were gifts sent from fashion designers and clothing chains, dropped on her in the foolish hope that the princess would act as their living advertisement. She’d learned as a youth that it was wiser to wait a year and donate them rather than simply send them back, it was just another way she managed to avoid sour responses. Still, as she found herself near the back of her closet, none of those gifted items called out to her. One ensemble was singing to her, both loudly and clearly, but it had a far more embarrassing origin.

When Amy Rose set her mind to something, it was difficult to stop her. During one of her brief excursions to the other world, the young hedgehog had dragged the older feline away to pick out some summer clothes. Blaze had successfully rejected most of Amy’s recommendations but one of them had managed to pierce her armour, early into the outing Blaze had been caught off guard by a certain garb and the hedgehog had built upon it.

She pulled the hanger free and its scary splendour was fully revealed to her. It was an amber sundress, the fabric littered with inconsistent clusters of white lilies. Once Amy had pushed her into a changing room, the pink blur had rushed off to gather some matching accessories. An amber scrunchie to replace her usual red ring, a set of saltwater sandals and a pair of white rimmed sunglasses had been shoved beneath the changing room curtain before Blaze was even half changed.

This outfit would play into their charade incredibly well, Blaze knew how much a change in garb could do, but her stomach was doing backflips. She knew she was overreacting, when she’d tried it on for the first time she hadn’t felt like this, but that knowledge did nothing to curtain her errant emotions. It was only after she donned the full outfit the Blaze realised why she felt quite so tense. Utilising the full-length mirror attached to the closet’s outer door, Blaze found that her reflection’s cheeks had turned scarlet. The dress was pretty, undeniably pretty, and the lower five sixths of it were fine… but…

The dress hung from her shoulder on two, rather thin, fabric straps. The white fur of her underbelly wasn’t quite visible but, this dress exposed her shoulders, her arms and almost the entirety of her collar. Everything else about it was perfect but those straps were just too thin for her liking and the neckline was just a little too deep. Perhaps it was made for someone with a different body shape?

Why was she wasting so much time on this? For whatever reason she wanted to wear this dress but, simultaneously, couldn’t overcome its collar. Blaze knew that if she’d just force herself to wear her usual attire this’d be over with already but something about this just felt… right for today. She was worried about fully convincing her public, perhaps this change really was needed.

Eventually, she managed to come to a compromise. She decided to wear the amber sundress, and all the additions Amy had piled upon her, but don her swimsuit beneath. It was a plain, dark purple, one-piece leotard intended for sport rather than casual use. Fortunately, the dress was baggy enough to hide the under-outfit but its straps were too thick to be covered by those of the dress. Well, it didn’t alter the outfit and it did immediately make her feel a lot more comfortable. It wasn’t uncommon for people to wear swimsuits under their beachgoing clothes, was it? Settled, she managed to finally leave her room and, having snatched a banana for breakfast on the go, made her way out the front doors of the palace.

Immediately, the arrival of sunlight forced her to don her sunglasses. They were supposed to be in autumn but, even despite her pyrokinetic nature, Blaze could feel the heat. It wasn’t even muggy; the day was dry, and the sky was totally clear, it was as though a summer day had been transplanted later into the year. That would complicate things a little, she assumed. It was better this than it being rainy, but the beach would probably be a little better stocked than she’d assumed last night. This was a Saturday too…

Regardless, it’d take more than a new garb and a little sun to stop her. Silver was waiting, everything was prepared, their late-night planning couldn’t go to waste!

----

The uproar on the beach wasn’t just a little louder than she’d anticipated, it was much louder. She’d arrived outside Marine’s driftwood-hut, a good hundred or so metres from the sands, but the princess could hear the sounds of families shouting and playing… so many families. She’d hesitated at the doorstep, that noise and all it implied had managed to paralyse the powerful pyrokinetic. A few eyes she could handle, she’d given hundreds of speeches, but this was different. Blaze told herself that she could endure the stares, but would he be okay with this?

She hadn’t known the hedgehog to get stage fright, but this was new ground for both of them. If she didn’t know how she’d handle this, what chance did she have of guessing how he would? Well, then again, she’d watched him more than she’d watched herself. They probably had a better idea of how the other would react than themselves. Hopefully, ideally, he’d be too focused on their task to notice anyone else.

Mustering all of her courage, the princess brought her knuckle to rap against the door. Her thoughts on the hedgehog’s state were split into two distinct pieces. The first was that he’d try his best to lie and put on a front, following her lead, but, ultimately, his inability to lie convincingly would make today more than a little silly. Perhaps that was for the better, maybe that’d make her feel more relaxed.

Alternatively, it was entirely possible that his obliviousness in regard to romance would make this incredibly easy. He’d play along blissfully unaware of what he was actually doing, entirely comfortable in his position. Try as she might; Blaze struggled to picture Silver being romantic, let alone in a relationship. He’d been through so much, both with her and without her, that ideas of who he’d want to be with, let alone what he’d want to do with another person, assumedly hadn’t arrived in his mind. He almost seemed too selfless for love, too focused on other things.

Blaze supposed she hadn’t really pondered it until recently, whether he actually had an interest in romance. Just before she’d proposed this plan, she’d considered it and come to a similar conclusion but now, for whatever reason, that questioning refused to abate. Was he actually interested in romance? Who would he even be interested in? Were it not for her discordant mind, she’d be far more comfortable making assumptions about his position. Something about this morning was simply off, working too late must have been taking its toll.

The feline, so lost in a world of her own, almost fell backwards as the door flew open. Marine the Raccoon, garbed in her usual green dress and wearing a ludicrously knowing grin, had reared her head in Silver’s place. It was as though she’d been up and waiting for this moment for hours.

“Picked out some nifty duds, didn’t ya? Strewth, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen them. You’re lookin’ for your fella, aren’t ya?” Her smirk seemed to grow evermore with every passing second. Before Blaze could even offer up an answer, the raccoon had turned her back, “Silver! Your Sheila’s here! How could you just leave her out on the doorstep, some boyfriend you are, are you even up? Oi, mate? Mate…?” She toddled back inside, leaving Blaze’s eyes to roll in the sailor’s wake.

Marine had been more than a little insistent that the pair were together long before this plan had been hatched. She’d undoubtedly been overjoyed to hear the false news from Silver, she’d probably been the first person it’d spread to. When the truth eventually came out, she’d probably be a little disappointed but, surely, she’d be old enough by then to understand the princess’ position.

That was a thought, how long were they going to keep this up? Months perhaps, but years? She supposed they’d have to, the moment they admitted to the contrary she’d likely be bombarded with letters and gifts. Well, they didn’t have to, but she couldn’t see herself finding a reason to stop. No one really appealed to her but if Silver ever wanted out, she’d let him out. If he met someone or-

“Oh, Blaze! You’re here!” Just as her mind had refocused on Silver, she heard the hedgehog approaching from behind. She turned to look over her shoulder and his smile almost knocked Blaze from her feet, “Sorry I’m late, I had something to pick up in town. I hope you didn’t have to wait too long?”

Something about him was different today… well, many things looked different. Like her, the hedgehog was wearing casual attire, but it was an outfit she recognised all too well. She’d bought it for one of his birthdays, when she’d noticed him outgrowing much of the wardrobe he’d been gifted upon his arrival to this dimension. It was a basic but well-fitting garb she’d picked out because she’d thought it’d suit him and, well, today it especially seemed to. He was wearing a button up, short-sleeved, teal and navy shirt with a set of long navy shorts. In place of his typical boots, Silver had donned a thicker set of walking sandals, almost intended for hiking. Naturally, his cuffs and anklets had to remain so she’d chosen colours that wouldn’t clash with his aura or gold.

The psychic had worn the outfit quite a few times, though only on occasions he seemed to consider important. For as plain as they were, the hedgehog was very much making them work. They let him look relaxed, as she always liked him to be now that he was safely away from the future, without looking untidy. She hadn’t noticed that the outfit rather… accentuated a distracting feature of his. His quills were pulled back into a messy ponytail, an attempt to avoid battle with the sea breeze, but the edge of his chest fluff had managed to breach his shirt. Hiding some of his fluffiness only drew her eyes to what little remained. She blamed her choice in neckline for that latter issue.

There was something else though, something deeper than fabric that was drawing her attention; causing some strange quaking in her gut. She told herself that it was just grogginess, that she was just being silly, but even as her eyes broke from his form, the hedgehog’s visage lingered in her mind. Blaze supposed she just hadn’t seen him dressed in them for a while, the hedgehog liked to wear clothes but his outfits were usually more ragtag; tempest tossed quills, a hoodie pulled over his bare shoulders, dirty boots and crumpled trousers. He’d made an effort for her and… well…

It’d paid off. Try as Blaze might; she couldn’t deny it, he wasn’t exactly unpleasant to look at. But then, why were her eyes locked onto the ground?

“He was up half the night putting everything together; the clothes, the food…” Marine listed from the corner of the feline’s eye, “I’m glad you both finally came to your senses, I always knew he’d make the perfect boyfriend for you.”

For whatever reason, those words had stoked something within Blaze. The wriggling within her stomach longed to go on the offensive and chastise Marine but, being such a foolish feeling, the princess knew it would do neither her nor them any good. Instead, she simply brought her toes to curl and fists to ball. When the hedgehog arrived at the doorstep, the scent of sweet goods hit her nose and further drew her attention.

“Marine, could you get everything I made last night? There should be a little basket on the kitchen counter,” Rather immediately, the little sailor scampered off to do what he asked, “So, are we still doing this?

“Y-Yes,” Her response was quick, but that stutter wasn’t a result of speed. She swallowed, “As long as you’re still okay going through with this, I’m okay.”

“I feel the same. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. This is still a little strange to me but then it must be for you too. We can do this, I’m sure of it,” He hesitated for a moment, blinking at her slightly, “I don’t think I’ve seen this outfit before. You look really pretty!”

Her face went from red to boiling, he clearly had no idea what he was doing to her. Well, to be frank, she had no idea what he was doing to her either. She scrambled for a reply, “Y-You look nice too,” Was that arrogant to say? She had bought him that outfit after all.

As she looked up to him- no, as she realised that their difference in height forced her to look up to him, the wriggling and jostling in her stomach exploded into two dozen angry butterflies. Something about him today, the way his eyes met hers and his shoulders seemed broader, was holding her full attention. It was as though she hadn’t seen him in a while, no… it was more like she hadn’t looked at him in a while. He was surely still the naïve hedgehog she knew, but Silver had grown. He looked far more mature than Blaze recalled even last night. What had changed beyond her clothes? She supposed they had fake titles for each other now? But why would that-

“Blaze?” A shock ran from the top of her shoulders to the tip of her tail, bringing it to dance and curl around her waist, “Are you alright? You were staring…” He reached up, rubbing at his muzzle, “Do I have something on my face?”

“N-No Silver,” The princess practically choked on her stutter, she tore her gaze from him again, “I just didn’t get much sleep last night, I was too busy… planning all this. It was a lot of work.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” He cringed slightly, “I would have stayed and helped if you’d said.”

“I-It’s fine, don’t worry about it. What’s done is done,” She was usually better at lying but, for whatever reason, today was proving to be an exception to all of her norms.

He didn’t look entirely convinced but Marine had returned, he gently stuffed his current bag into the she’d retrieved basket, “What’s the plan then? Are we still heading for the beach?”

“It does seem a little busy,” Blaze mused, trying to resign his worry to the business of the beach, “Perhaps we could keep to the cliff face, the near edge. That way we won’t be getting in anyone’s way and their attention should be towards the water.”

“That seems like a great idea, that way we’ll be seen but not too seen,” He enthusiastically nodded, “The cliff should keep our picnic in the shade too, it’ll be perfect!”

The excitement in his voice sent a wave of heat up her face to tip her ears, as her temperature rose the hedgehog’s gaze overwhelmed her; Blaze’s stare fell to the ground. Only three words managed to slip beyond her lips, “Y-You’re so naïve.”

With an awkward wave goodbye to Marine the two finally set off towards the beach, walking together as faux boyfriend and girlfriend for the first time.

----

The beach was just as busy as it had sounded; children were running wild, frolicking in and out of the water with reckless abandon. Beach towel after beach towel littered the sand, slovenly forms comfortably spread across each and every one of them. They’d stuck to their plan, keeping to the far side of the beach and walking alongside the great cliff edge that shaded it; passing into and out of its shadow based upon the warping of bluffs.

Talk had been, admittedly, sparser than usual. He had made attempts to start conversations, but her mouth had been rather useless today. Speaking seemed to further the heat on her face and strip her tongue of its rationality, resulting in stuttering. Thus, she’d kept replies brief; a handful of words at best, awkward nods and headshakes at worst. If she was walking with anyone else, they’d surely think she was being rude. At least with Silver, he’d been around long enough that walking quietly was normalised. Still, given the nature of this current outing, she couldn’t help but assume he was either worried or confused.

Blaze was a good half pace behind him, rending her stare from the sand to throw him a look every so often. Since their arrival on the beach, she’d kept her sunglasses firmly covering her eyes; both to partially obscure where she was looking and hide some of her panic. Unfortunately, they weren’t doing much to prevent her embarrassment.

Their difference in height was really throwing her off, the feline felt like she should have been walking on her tiptoes to better match him. Had it really been so long since she’d worn flats? Had the difference between their heights grown so great without her even noticing? The Silver she saw in her mind’s eye was sweet and insecure, she could hardly even identify him as anything beyond his name; he was simply Silver, her partner, a person she could trust above all others. Looking at him now it was… it was as though she was actually seeing him as a man and that was, somehow, far more embarrassing than being dressed as she was. She’d probably find it easier to publicly admit that they were together than spend five minutes eye to eye with him, something had changed; he wasn’t the same cute, naïve, hedgehog she’d once known.

Well, he was still naïve, and he was undeniably cute; just not in the way she recalled it, not in a way she could bring herself to describe internally let alone audibly. How had he gone from the amorphous, fluffy, form she pictured in her mind’s eye, to this in only one night? What had changed? It couldn’t just be his clothes. It was so fascinating and yet so hard to dwell upon.

As he turned to look at her, Blaze’s gaze darted towards the waters and stumbled between the people watching them. There weren’t too many gazes on them, at least not consistently. A few people were whispering, and an elderly pair were throwing some kind of stare their way but most of the public seemed squarely focused on their time at the beach.

“Blaze?” His words drew her stare back to him, there was concern in his eyes.

She couldn’t muster a word in response, only an acknowledging hum. Her tongue was weighed, if she spoke then she’d surely stutter. How long would this feeling last?

“Is everything okay? Am I doing this right?” He’d slowed and taken a step closer, her eyes dropped to meet what little chest fur was free before darting up to meet his eye again. At this distance, she had no idea if he could make out where she was looking, “You’ve been very quiet. I thought we were supposed to be making a scene, drawing attention to us being together.”

“O-Oh,“ She gulped, ballistic at herself for swallowing, “I’m not entirely certain how we’d go about that. I think we’re drawing enough stares as it is, it’s probably fine...”

“Is this making you uncomfortable? Is it too much?” He fumbled with the picnic basket, switching it into his right hand as he looked past her and to the beach, “We can swap places if you want, that way they’d be looking at me instead.”

Despite this feeling in her gut, Silver was still Silver. If he thought he could do anything to help, even the slightest thing, he’d offer it without hesitation. She didn’t have the heart to tell him he was wrong, let alone that she was being bombarded by feelings she couldn’t explain, “Thank you, Silver.”

He shifted to her outer side, acting as a barrier between her and the stares, but part of the endeavour caused her heart to skip a beat. Once he’d arrived on that side, Silver had slipped his left hand into her right. She almost stumbled and he quickly looked back at her, very clearly confused. This kind of contact was regular for them, whenever the other was troubled the other would take their hand or wrap an arm around their shoulder; last night even, he’d held her by the shoulders and she’d casually returned that grasp. They’d held hands thousands of times, more than she could ever hope to count but, today, this afternoon, there was something almost electrifying about that contact.

He was staring, waiting for some kind of response, but her tongue would surely fail her again. She had to make up for its lack of fluidity.

Bluntly, boldly, she brought her fingers to lock between his and squeezed his hand tight; forcing herself into the leading position, she spoke without turning back to him, “L-Lets find somewhere quieter to eat. I’m starving.”

Her cheeks were on fire, she locked her eyes on the path ahead but no matter how she charged or tried to distract herself; Blaze’s embarrassment refused to shift. A lack of sleep had never done anything like this to her, at least not before today. Was that all this was? Tiredness and the stupor brought on by it? It had to be, nothing else made sense.

He’d caught up, matching her quickened pace to walk beside her, “Somewhere quieter, okay, um…”

Silver cast his eyes to the beach and Blaze’s stare followed, it seemed that their shift in pace had caused them to draw more attention. Rather than one or two older couples, a larger group of multiple families seemed to have noticed them. That, or word had simply spread up the beach and the world had finally noticed them together; dressed differently and holding hands, more than likely on a date. She slowed her pace again, turning to the cliff face. She’d had an idea, born of his recommendation of picnicking in the cliff’s shade. It was a stupid thought, so very stupid, but she knew somewhere more private. People might still see them, people could still reach them, but it’d perhaps make her feel more comfortable long term… even if it was bound to make her less comfortable in the short term and draw many more eyes.

“What about up there? We’d be away from the beach itself, but it’d be a little more private. I think we’d still be seen enough,” She suggested, gesturing up the cliff face, “They’d see you carrying me up there, perhaps that’s enough of a sign that we’re...”

He came to a stop, glancing up the cliff’s edge before quickly turning to the beach behind them, “Are you sure you’d be comfortable with that?”

Blaze knew what he was implying. Not only would this draw more eyes to them initially, but it involved scaling to a height that, while not ludicrous, was a little beyond what he knew her to be comfortable with. The concern in his eyes was so genuine…

“I know you won’t drop me, Silver. I trust you,” She squeezed his hand again, “Just, please, make it quick but not too quick.”

He managed a nod, his worry quelled, and slipped his hand from hers to shift the picnic basket further up his arm. Without blinking or flinching, he turned and put his right hand to her back while crouching and lowering his left arm for her to swing her legs up and across. While she’d focused on his concern her embarrassment had faded. Now, the heat had returned.

This was how he usually lifted her, it was more comfortable to lie in his grasp than to cling to him as he flew, but, due to her addled and tired mind, she was having further thoughts. Usually she’d have stepped up without flinching, she’d allow her head to fall against his shoulder and focus solely on his face until they reached their destination. They’d make conversation, he’d distract her from the distance between them and the ground. Today however, that seemed more difficult. Her tiredness couldn’t be responsible for that. Was it because she was wearing a dress?

Briefly catching his eye again, Blaze rapidly neatened her clothes a little. As she finally brought her legs over his arm, she tried to keep herself decent. It was stupid, the skirt of her dress was long, but it didn’t do anything to dispel the heat on her face. Her head still found his shoulder and, although she’d been looking up at him all day, at least this was a more familiar view.

“Are you ready?” He made sure, she felt his grasp tighten just above her knee and around her shoulders. Something about that contact, contact she’d experienced hundreds of times, coupled with the view energised the butterflies in her stomach.

She forced her gaze to roll from him and to the rock wall in front of them, “Yes.”

Cyan light crept into her vision and weightlessness set in. Her choice to focus on the wall didn’t serve her well. While it was better than looking down, she could tell that they were rising and with each passing second the ground drifted further away. They weren’t going slowly, but Silver was making sure to keep things stable; ergo, their pace wasn’t as fast as she knew he could fly, or he’d even normally fly with her.

As his concern for her was made manifest and the shifting rockface began to make her queasy, the princess couldn’t help but return to her normal position. Historically, her cheek would be cushioned by the edge of his chest fluff but now his shirt was in the way. Why did she miss that comfort?

Her shifting brought his attention back to her; those piercing yellow eyes were upon her again. Without so much as thinking, she stuttered out; “Sh-Shouldn’t you be watching the sky?”

He responded to her request immediately, shifting to look upwards, so he didn’t catch her grimacing at her own stupidity. Her gaze lowered slightly, and she ended up staring at what little of his fluff was visible. Despite his endeavour to look presentable, a few tufts were out of place. If she was feeling more regular, she might have seen reason to undo its tugs and neaten him. As things were though, Blaze could only stare.

Though he stopped ascending when he reached the green grass that topped the cliff, he didn’t quite put her down. Instead, the hedgehog flew just a little more inland so that she wouldn’t have to see the worst of the height; they touched down a good twenty paces from the edge. He gently set her down, dipping her legs and allowing her to step free from his hold. The grass wasn’t exactly thin up here, they were a little off the beaten trail, but it seemed like a fine spot for a picnic. The tide was out, so they could see where the beach met the waves, and to their backs was a lush palm tree forest. They would only be visible to those close to the water’s edge and out at sea. More eyes were on them for the moment than had been before, a few kids had run up the beach to watch their flight, but she knew they would drift with time. In the long run, this was better.

“Here seems pretty perfect for a picnic,” He commented, taking in their surroundings, “This was a great idea Blaze!”

“I suppose it will do,” Blaze tried to underplay her decision, unwilling to claim praise for what was an impulse decision rather than a planned one, “Let’s just relax for a while, away from so many prying eyes, and return to our walk later.”

The princess wasn’t sure if she was instructing him or herself.

With a nod, Silver reached into the hamper and drew out a large plaid picnic blanket. Without so much as blinking, he tossed it into the air and caught it with his psychic aura; completely flattening it and holding it in the air. He slowly lowered it with a single glowing hand, the long grass beneath the blanket was made to bend down flat, free to pop up whenever the cover was removed but smoothed for their sitting. That done, he dropped to the ground and dug through the basket. First revealed was a flask and two tin mugs, next a reasonably sized plastic container and, finally, a smaller white paper bag that was, assumedly, the reason he’d been late to meet her

Everything set out, he caught Blaze in the midst of staring. Rather quickly, the feline dropped down to sit with him; positioning herself on the other side of their bounty. The lid was popped free from the container and steam rose from its depths. Six pastry parcels, surely too much for the pair of them to eat, were revealed, perfectly browned and sealed along their top.

“They’ve got prawn and salmon in them with a cream sauce and some vegetables,” He quickly explained, offering her the box.

She knew his taste; this was more for her than it was for him. Without so much as hesitating, she picked up one and took a bite. They’d managed to maintain their heat in the box, she’d known that by sight and touch, but the taste managed to fully draw her attention. The blending of flavours was perfect, the sauce didn’t overwhelm the fish and the fish didn’t overwhelm the sauce; the prawns were just small enough not to manifest in large chunks.

He’d been about to reach for the box himself only for a realisation to strike him, “I’m supposed to be being the best boyfriend I can, r-right, okay…” With a wave of his hand, the flask and tin cups were pulled toward him. He poured her a cup of tea, gesturing again to hover napkins, a small sugar-jar and a spoon from the basket. Once he’d presented her the mug, he unwrapped and opened the white paper bag. Inside was a small assortment of muffins and fairy cakes, “I would have baked us a cake, but we were a little too short notice. I hope that’s okay…”

She took the jar, adding two teaspoonfuls of sugar to her brew, “Silver, this is more than okay. I was expecting sandwiches or something small, not all this. How long did you stay up last night?”

Somehow, unlike the stares or most of today’s endeavour, that managed to prompt a bashful response from the hedgehog. His cheeks lit pink as he claimed a pasty of his own, “It took a couple of tries to get them perfect, but It wasn’t too long. I got up a few hours earlier rather than staying up late, I just wish I’d had a little more time.”

“Don’t be silly, I only planned the walk while you did so much; even though this was all my idea,” She passed him back the jar as he poured the flask.

He added far more sugar to his cup, the blush had spread from his muzzle to his ears, “But this is just what we normally do. If we’re pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend, shouldn’t I be doing more?”

Having something to eat, as well as seeing his blush, seemed to reduce her own embarrassment, “This isn’t about actually embodying those roles so much as just making others think we are. You don’t have to go to extra effort like that, you do more than enough by just being you. A lot of people already debate whether we are a couple,” She managed to smile, blowing her tea to cool it, “All we need to do are the public things, the more blatant things. Go out together, hold hands and hug in public, those kinds of things. Don’t worry too much about the little details.”

“I’ll try not to, but I promised to do this right,” He affirmed as she took a sip. Despite his flush still lingering, he gave a proclamation, “I’m going to do my best, I’m going to be the best boyfriend possible!”

“Y-You’re so naïve,” She pretended to sigh and grumble, turning her attention towards the meal.

He’d probably said that both to renew his promise to her and to bolster himself for the coming task. Just as she’d begun to overcome her embarrassment, he’d managed to stoke it again. Despite that fact and despite the renewed heat on her face, Blaze flicked her sunglasses up. She couldn’t keep hiding forever and brewing thoughts were becoming too much to contain.

He wasn’t wrong to have done all this, and Blaze knew she should be showing more gratitude, but the feline’s state was making that impossible. The hedgehog had also led her to think on an interesting aspect of their plan; just what should they be doing, what would convince the public and what were they willing to do? Were there lines she wanted to draw and what lines would he like to draw? A certain concept, a thought, fluttered up to reach her brain that Blaze couldn’t help pondering. There was no easy way of broaching it though. Two questions were gnawing at the back of her head, a thought that was relevant to this concept, but she wasn’t willing to entertain.

Was she willing to kiss him, and would he be willing to kiss her? If they did kiss among the public, that was all the proof they’d ever need.

Last night she would have said yes to that question without hesitation. If it meant completing their ruse, she’d be more than willing. But as these feelings spiralled both in her head and through her gut, Blaze couldn’t help but squirm. She threw Silver a quick glance only to find him entirely focused on his meal, being up so early and going to the bakery had perhaps caused him to miss breakfast. He was willing to go so far for her, could she plant her lips on his for her own sake?

For a split second, her eyes drifted to her muzzle only to be torn away and thrown to the plaid blanket beneath them. She wouldn’t have been opposed to it before, so she supposed she wasn’t now, just a lot more nervous about it. If they did it, it’d only have to be a peck; nothing too scandalous, something small. Blaze had chosen him to play this role for a reason, she trusted him and was willing to do things with him that she wasn’t comfortable doing with others. She could see herself doing it, embarrassment aside, but what about him?

Silver was like her; he’d never been in a relationship before. While she’d accept him as her first kiss, would she be his? Would he want her to be his? Well, she’d brought up not knowing how to draw stares before. Perhaps she could ask through that? Now that the concept was in her head, Blaze wanted to know if there were any boundaries between them; was he saving certain things for someone else? As he reached for his next pasty, she took a deep breath and made a move.

“Well,” It was going to be roundabout, but she had to prompt this discussion somehow, “Is there anything you think would make it more obvious that we’re a couple? Something quick and easy, anything we can do to get the message across. I was up last night considering options but couldn’t come up with a concrete solution.”

“We already do most of the things couples do, right? We hug, we hold hands and we visit all kinds of places together,” He pondered aloud, tugging at what little exposed chest fur he had as he thought, “I guess there’s other stuff we can do; like writing each other love letters, wearing clothes that match or just telling others how much we’re in love. More blunt stuff,” Silver managed to answer, “I think that’s what couples do. You know, they kiss and stuff; give people some kind of undeniable sign.”

What he thought couples did; he’d phrased it so innocently but implied so much. He’d hit the nail on the head, brought up the very object of her curiosity. He’d been so casual, did that mean he was willing to do it?!

“R-Right, yes, th-they…” Her stuttering came to a head, her tongue was useless; she should have taken a moment and considered her words.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Blaze? You’ve been kind of red all day,” He, so helpfully, informed her.

“Yes, don’t worry, I’m fine,” She waved him off, almost pulling down her shades but catching herself before she could, “I’ve probably just caught a cold, they’re common at this time of year.”

That’d surely worried him, her brain was going a mile a minute. Blaze knew he’d never been in a relationship, but that didn’t mean his heart wasn’t set on someone. She didn’t know who they could be, a fact that made her want to assume that there was nobody, but a larger chunk of herself wanted to be sure.

“Silver,” She was fighting to keep a straight face, attempting to hold back her stutter merely forced Blaze to pause and hold her breath, “Have you ever actually…” She knew it was better to be blunt, best to keep things simple, but it was the most embarrassing way to ask, “Kissed anyone before?”

“No,” His reply was immediate, he didn’t even blink!

“Oh,” He looked confused at her response, “I-It’s just that, most people think first kisses are important. I wouldn’t want to take something like that from you. By having you pretend to be my boyfriend, I feel like I’m already asking a lot,” She was blabbering, not asking what she really wanted. Her fists clenched, “I-I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with kissing me or…”

“Blaze,” He crawled closer, their knees almost came to touch, “You’re my partner. I agreed to do this because I want to help you, you’re not asking anything of me. I decided to do this, it’s not like you’re forcing me.”

“It’s still…” She wrestled with herself. There was only one way to reach her desired answer; to ask her desired question, “Is there anyone you’d want to be that first kiss?”

“Well, people only kiss those they’re close to, right? Specifically, the person they’re closest to and want to stay with…” He defined, clearly deep in thought but trying to relax her at the same time, “I’m not an expert on it or anything, but that’s how it always seems in books. I don’t really know a lot about this dating stuff, just what I’ve heard from Amy really.”

The mention of Amy immediately explained a lot of things; his change in garb, the holding of her hand and this picnic. Though they’d only met a handful of times, across both this and their past life, the pink hedgehog overabundant love for Sonic made sense as an informant to Silver’s understanding. She was though, admittedly, a terrifying informant.

Swallowing, she nodded, “Yes, that’s not how it always is but that’s how people romanticise it, Silver. If there was someone you wanted to kiss, that should be someone you care about in a way that’s different to how you care for everyone else.”

“Well, the person I’m closest to is you, Blaze. I don’t think I could ever share the kind of bond we have with anyone else,” That feeling was undeniably mutual, she knew where this was going but he wasn’t done talking. She felt the butterflies squirm in her stomach, “So, if I was going to kiss anyone, I guess I’d want to kiss you.”

Her heart skipped beats and she couldn’t help but shift, he’d called out her blushing before but now it was surely worse. He’d used such simple and honest words, the likes of which she had no defence against. His heart was on his sleeve, she couldn’t deny its existence; there was no front, there was no lie.

“Just, promise me you’ll say if that changes,” She insisted, taking on a sterner tone in an attempt to smother her slurring, “If, for whatever reason, you either don’t feel the same about us or you meet someone or… whatever it is, just promise you’ll say.”

“I don’t think that will ever happen…” She couldn’t help but frown at that. His eyes softened, her concern had gotten through to him, “If that happens then I’ll say, but I’ll still help you in whatever other ways I can. You’re my best friend and I want you to be happy.”

“Good,” She managed to huff, “A-And thank you.”

A moment passed. While he’d smiled at her response, after another sip of tea and a few bites, confusion crossed his brow and he dared to ask, “Blaze, have you ever kissed anyone?”

“No, I haven’t really considered…” Well, she had no more than a moment ago. She’d worried about whether he’d be okay with her kissing him, albeit to further their ruse. With that exception though; “I’ve never even thought about it. I worried so much that it’d be a suitor that I never considered who I’d rather k-kiss instead.”

She longed to snuff her stutter, but an immediate shift in Silver’s demeanour caught her off guard. His brow hardened and he’d set down his food, shifting closer still to put his hand atop hers, he said, “Well, now you will be able to think about that without worrying. You’re amazing, whoever you chose will be so lucky; after all, they get to be the closest person to you.”

He was just being protective, being a good friend and bearing his sense of justice, but the combination of his honesty and physical touch sent her senses into further disarray. She couldn’t meet his eye and, for what felt like hours, she couldn’t bring herself to speak. Part of her was screaming to admit, as he had, that Silver was the only person she’d truly consider kissing but another part kept promising Blaze that saying so would lead to ruination. He’d ask more questions, or he’d ask if they should kiss or something else naïve yet heartfelt.

“I-I only asked because…” Her tail was dragging across the ground without her consent, “If this goes on for too long, people might expect us to kiss. I’m glad you’re okay with that.”

“If you’re okay with it then I’m okay with it,” He swore, squeezing her hand, “First kisses are supposed to be important but, I guess, since we’re not actually together, it wouldn’t count if we kissed? So, you don’t have to worry about that.”

The way that was worded, it was almost an invitation to kiss him whenever she felt like it. While it didn’t outright state it, it implied that they could essentially practice using each other. Somewhat stunned, Blaze could only manage a meagre, “S-Sure, I guess so.”

“If you ever think we should, just say and we can!” He promised, as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

Thoughts and emotions bubbled and boiled; his hand was still in hers, had he even noticed? The butterflies had never settled in her stomach, but their vigour seemed to have been renewed. What was wrong with today, what was wrong with her today? Ever since she’d woken up, something had been off. Everything they’d done so far was regular for them, they’d regularly visit the beach and picnic, let alone hold hands and talk.

“Oh, huh,” The engine of her heart skipped a beat, bringing her train of thought to a ludicrously quick stop. What could possibly fall from his mouth next? “We’ve got the same hair now.”

The most bizarre concoction of relief, embarrassment and anguish flared across Blaze’s face. Her muzzle was cast in scarlet, but not the burning red of before, “Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Pushing herself, to speak more quickly proved unwise. Rather than complementing the change, her blush led her to chastise him, “You should take better care of your quills. I-If you kept them like this, they wouldn’t get into such a mess.”

Despite her rudeness he continued to smile at her and enjoy the meal, “They’re getting a little too long again,” He admitted, trying to look over his shoulder at those fluffy extremities, “Maybe I should cut them more properly.”

Despite her initial outburst, this conversation was a relaxing breath of fresh air compared to their last one. Drawing her tea to her lips, she tried to talk from her heart rather than her flushed face, “I wouldn’t clip them too short, just short enough that they’re easier to manage. I could do it tomorrow if you’d like?”

“That’d be great! We can try to have a more relaxed day,” He immediately grinned, but a realisation overtook him, “Wait, would that be our second date? Or would we just be doing that as friends?”

“It can be whatever we want it to be,” She practically blurted out before quickly realising what that implied, “I-It’ll be in private though, so we hardly have to call it a date. Perhaps, if someone asks about your quills, then we’ll say it was, but we can actually treat it like a normal day.”

“Alright, that’ll work!” He practically cheered, finally releasing her hand and drawing out another pastry from the box.

She took that opportunity to change her grasp, holding her teacup in both hands. Despite her pyrokinesis and the mug’s heat, her hand felt substantially colder without his touch. This grogginess was playing games with her senses now, what could be next?

She managed to turn her attention towards the picnic spread, quickly reaching down and claiming another pasty. It was only as she did that, that Blaze realised why he’d brought up their matching ponytails. He’d mentioned matching clothes before, clearly implying the likes of matching shirts and wedding rings, but their current hairstyles were a way they matched. While she didn’t think it made them look more like a couple, he had planned this out even more than she thought.

Attempting to distract herself, she began to eat the baked good and tried her hardest to focus upon its creamy flavour. Despite how delicious it was, it was not enough. Blaze found herself dwelling upon the shift in how she viewed their relationship; the change she had undergone but he hadn’t. She’d done all this to avoid marrying a suitor, but who did she want to take the place of a suitor? She’d convinced herself that this was for long term convenience, that it would give her the chance to find someone, but, the truth was, she hadn’t planned to look. She hadn’t considered where to start, let alone where to find someone she trusted as much as Silver. She couldn’t see herself being closer to anyone than she was to him; their bond had lasted beyond her death and into this next life, they’d survived the unsurvivable together. Who could even come close to filling his role?

She’d never considered her endeavours with Silver to be romantic, it was simply how they were with each other, but some combination of their lifted burdens, their actions’ current context and time had freed this realisation from her subconscious. Time was surely an important factor, in their last life things hadn’t had the opportunity to blossom this far; they hadn’t had the chance to grow both physically, as individuals, and as a pair. This time though, not only had they been in a more comfortable position for growth but they’d both learned what life was like without the other; they understood what that loss felt like. Not to mention, they were newly adults now; they’d aged further than that last life. No wonder she was embarrassed, she’d asked the only person she’d consider dating to pretend to go out with her.

She didn’t think she’d change much physically, but Silver had undeniably grown while she hadn’t been paying attention. The most obvious changes were physical, he’d grown taller and his shoulders had broadened, but there’d surely been internal shifts that Blaze couldn’t quite discern. Silver was still very naïve, his heart was attached to his sleeve and he’d shown his want for justice throughout the whole endeavour, but his living in a more peaceful world had led him to acquire hobbies and interests. She was seeing him at his best, better than he’d ever been. Many of his skills, his interests too, either matched or complemented hers.

Having finished the pasty just as her thoughts concluded, Blaze threw him another glance. He was fairly focused on the coast, absentmindedly making headway on a third pasty. Following his gaze, she found that his eyes had landed upon a flock of migrating birds; a sign of the coming Winter. This would be their last chance to walk the beach comfortably for at least three months. She should have been making the most of this.

She reached into the bakery bag, drawing out a muffin before pushing the bag his way, “Come on, let’s hurry and head down again.”

----

Unfortunately, despite now understanding her state, Blaze found herself no better equipped to combat her embarrassment. Talk was less scant than it had been last time, Blaze was trying her best, but she still wasn’t comfortable with this sudden upwelling of understanding. She’d stutter and stammer, catch herself staring, tear her eyes from him and, occasionally, chastise him when her embarrassment became too much to bear. It wasn’t perfect, but at least they were talking this time.

Still, she was managing to walk hand in hand with him. The hedgehog himself, seemingly in response to her slightly calmer demeanour, had shed most of his worry. He’d panic, just a little whenever she told him off too harshly, but he was certainly smiling more now. They were almost walking shoulder to shoulder, Silver on the water’s side, approaching the rockier far edge of the beach; where sand gave way to low crags, a prime site for rock pools. Of course, as a result of that, this part of the beach was particularly swamped. Many families with younger children were searching for the likes of hermit crabs and trying to make memories.

As they reached the shift in ground, Silver came to a halt. Before she could even fully turn to him, his hand had slipped from hers; both his left palm and right were suddenly on her shoulders. Her eyes collided with his and a pair of stern brows. The concern that she’d just thought abolished had returned in an instant, bringing her prior embarrassment with it.

“Is this going to be okay? Are there too many people over there?” He asked, his concern and care on display, “We can turn around if you want.”

Blaze looked over her shoulder, both to better scan how many families had gathered and, more primarily, to simply hide her renewed blush. The hedgehog’s hands were in the exact same position they had been last night; she had looked him in the eyes, returned his touch and thanked him for his aid. Right now, she could only think to avoid his gaze and call him naïve.

But she didn’t want to do that. There were families by the rockpools, yes, but before today she would’ve been entirely comfortable among her people and beside him. Her boosted bashfulness had swollen to such an extent that not only was Silver pointing it out, he was actively concerned about it. She couldn’t let this stick; she couldn’t let it drag into the future days! She’d promised to take initiative and that was exactly what she’d do.

Her hands came to latch on his biceps, her brow steeled, and lips pursed as she met his eyes once more, “W-Well, what about you, Silver?”

“Wh-What about me?” He asked, concern quickly being dashed by confusion.

“You’ve said it before, but I’ll ask again; are you okay with this?” She had to be more specific. She took a step forward; surprised, he almost stumbled back, “Are you okay with us being seen like this?”

“I am!” He swore without hesitation, “As long as you are, I am.”

“So, you do want to be here with me?” She went further, tightening her grasp and taking another step. As long as she kept moving, she could overlook the stutter in her voice and the heat on her muzzle. If she controlled the pace, if she took hold of the momentum, then she could manage all of this.

“Of course I do,” He immediately answered. His seriousness grew further but it couldn’t match hers, she’d always known this, “Even if we weren’t pretending to be together, you know I like being with you.”

He had no idea what she’d prompted from him but, essentially, she’d managed to tease free an admittance that he wanted to be here with her. That fact he’d admitted to wanting to be there, regardless of their overall scheme, went a long way to setting her at ease. Despite that though, she still had a point to get across.

“And as long as you’re okay with this, I’m okay with this. This was all my idea after all,” She forced her amber orbs to burn into his brighter set, “Don’t worry about me being uncomfortable, but I want to know if you are,” Blaze refused to let herself flinch and denied herself even the right to blink. She rose to her tiptoes and brought her head closer to his, mirroring the way he’d leaned down to her last night, “As long as you’re okay, I’m okay.”

“R-Right,” His stutter wasn’t born of embarrassment, merely a combination of surprise and confusion. He broke from her gaze and took a deep breath. His grasp had tightened when he met her eyes again, “Let’s do it then, it’ll be easy.”

“If you change your mind or worry about anything, you just have to say,” She wanted to press her forehead against his, but height wouldn’t allow it. Instead, she opted to take yet another step. With that, they escaped the shade of the cliff, “You can rely on me just as much as I do you, you know this?”

“I do, of course I do! I don’t know what I’d do without you,” He insisted, not so much embarrassed but flustered by her endeavour. Strangely, Silver somehow looked cuter still when positioned like this. Despite that, he managed to keep talking, “You look out for me and I look out for you, th-that’s what we do.”

She let herself drop to her heels, her arms left his, “Good. Then we’ll make it through this,” He, almost lost and confused, replicated her release; allowing her to turn back towards the rockpools, “We’ll look out for each other, no matter what.”

They resumed their approach, many eyes had turned upon them but, noticing their shift, were quickly dropping towards the pools. Blaze hadn’t had the gall to retake his hand, but she was still leading, she was succeeding!

This would be easy. If she could keep a tight grip on herself and control of the pace, then she was certain she’d make it through today’s date at least. Tomorrow would be a more private affair, prime for both self-discovery and prying further into how he felt. She wasn’t sure how long this fake dating scheme could last now, it would be immoral to steal kisses from him with her new understanding, but hopefully this state’s replacement would eventually grant her that freedom. She couldn’t help feeling embarrassed by that thought but, as long as she could subdue it, overcoming this meant future efforts would become easier. She just had to chip away at these feelings, work and practice until she could properly control th-

“Oh, I meant to ask earlier,” Her ear twitched, registering the return to his more casual tone, “Why’re you wearing a swimsuit under your dress, are we going swimming later?”

She’d entirely forgotten that was a choice she’d made; a choice that’d become especially obvious when his hands found her shoulders and she’d drawn so close. As Blaze’s cheeks reddened, and her temperature spiked, the undeniable became clear. She was far from overcoming this embarrassment. With a quick fumble, her sunglasses were made to lower again in a half-hearted attempt to hide her panic.

“It’s just, I didn’t bring my stuff with me,” He continued, seemingly oblivious, “I don’t want to ruin these-

“Sh-Shush!” She took hold of his hand again, dragging him towards the rocks with a speed unmatched by any prior, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it! Let’s just go find some crabs, o-or something.”

Finding her ideal partner, the very goal of this scheme, had taken no time at all, but being comfortable seeing him in such a light… that was going to take much longer.

[royalcordelia]

Summary:  After returning home from medical school, Gilbert discovers that the neighbor girl, Anne, has gone missing. He won't rest until he's found her, even if it means taking a leap of faith and venturing into his father's old wardrobe. (A Narnia!AU).

Notes: Merry Christmas @londonsboy​!! I was your secret santa this year and I was delighted to get to know you! Talking to you made me remember how wonderful Narnia is, and I realized that Anne of Green Gables and Narnia both have that same whimsical charm about them. I hope your holiday was cozy and lovely!  

*

1: A Child’s Lore

Gilbert remembers the Storygirl. He remembers the red twists of hair braided down her thin shoulders, each tied with bowed ribbons. He remembers the monarch butterflies balancing gingerly on her freckled fingers and the dimples haloing each half of her smile. He remembers cloaking himself away under the shadows of the treeline and watching the girl move slowly through the tall grass. With care and ease, she urged the butterflies to amble onto a nearby flower. 

“Would you care for a story?” she asked them. Gilbert remembers straining his ears to pick up any trace of her voice, tender and easy on his senses. “I won’t fault you if you fly away, but if you have a few moments to spare, I have such wonderful tales.” The butterflies remained in place, fluttering their wings slowly in the warm sunlight. 

“Very well, a story you shall have!” continued the Storygirl. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess named Cordelia. Oh, but she didn’t start out that way. You see, for most of her life, Cordelia suffered the great calamities that all poor orphan girls do…” 

Gilbert’s back slid down against the tree, somehow too captivated to tear his eyes away. He settled on the ground, pushing aside verdant brush to keep his sights on her. Never before had he taken himself as a fellow who enjoyed fairytales, yet something about this tale and her voice left him no choice but to listen. So he listened. He listened and listened until she whispered, “The end!” The blues of her eyes turned toward the trees straight at him as if she’d known he was there all along. And then, she ran off, disappearing into the heart of the valley forever.

He was only thirteen then, but he remembers. 

Now, he keeps the memory of the Storygirl in the same place he stores the memory of his father’s wardrobe—deep in the parts of his mind full of things he’d seen as a child, but could never prove the existence of as an adult. Myths, legends, and fancies of a child’s imagination. There lives the memory of the Storygirl and the days of yore when his father’s wardrobe held clothes, evergreen trees, and sweet breezes. 

Gilbert knows they’re not real. But sometimes he wishes they were.

2: A Silhouette

Avonlea is uncertain and strange when Gilbert finally returns home. As his carriage carries him through town, the heavy feeling sinks deeper into his chest. Where has that ethereal beauty of the island gone? It used to seep out of the red soil like petrichor, but now the air has lost its fragrant charm. Gilbert can’t help but feel as if maybe the magic PEI days of his youth had been but a childish whimsy, stripped away by inevitable adulthood. 

Then, the hazy memory of the Storygirl returns and for a brief moment. Uninvited, but not unwelcome. Gilbert closes his eyes and lets himself recall the details of her face. There’s comfort in his own childhood myths, as if he is not so far gone, after all.  And when he opens his eyes, he’s home. 

From the doorway, it looks like a portrait—Sebastian frozen on the parlor sofa with low hung shoulders, Mary holding his head to her middle and caressing his bushy silk hair. Gilbert emerges from the blue shadows of the entryway. 

He should announce himself properly. Perhaps attempt reentering with a wide smile and some kind of good news to brighten the mood. Instead, he hears himself say, “Who died?”

Mary tears away from Bash with a gasp, soaring over to the door to pull Gilbert’s face into the crook of her neck. 

“Gilbert! Were you due home so soon?” she says after drawing a watery breath. “I think we’ve lost track of the days!” 

“Yes. I’m on time down to the minute,” Gilbert replies with a smile. “Are you...going to answer my question?” 

Mary’s brows knit together in confusion as she pulls away to examine the state of his face. Her fingers smooth over the frown lines at the corners of his own eyes, but it’s Bash who answers. 

“No one died. At least, we really hope not,” he explains, distracting Gilbert from his vague answer by pulling Gilbert close for a hug of his own.  “None of that for now. Take your coat and shoes off before someone starts to believe that this isn’t your own home.” 

For the rest of the day, Gilbert tries to whittle out the truth from Bash at any opportunity he gets. At the lunch table, after recounting tales from college and his boring graduation ceremony. At the kitchen sink, elbow deep in sudsy water. At the foot of the garden, pulling weeds and sprinkling water onto thirsty soil. He tries again and again, but Bash does not budge. 

When evening rolls around, it’s pull has already lulled Gilbert to sleep on the parlor sofa. Across from him, Mary stitches together a small hole in one of his old shirts until her own exhaustion makes her prick her finger. 

“Can’t keep my eyes open a second longer,” she yawns. Depositing a kiss on Bash’s head, then Gilbert’s, she murmurs, “Don’t stay up too long. I want to keep looking in the morning.” 

Bash lets a moment pass when he hears their door shut, waits a few seconds more, then crosses the room to where Gilbert is sprawled out on the sofa. The newly minted doctor stirs at the feeling of his brother shaking him awake. 

“Mary’s gone to sleep. We can talk now.” 

Gilbert’s eyelashes are heavy, but he pries them open at the stony tone of his brother’s voice and pushes himself to an upright position. 

“So...What have you been hiding from me all day?” 

Bash’s lips press together. 

“Did you know the Cuthberts adopted a daughter?” 

“No, I didn’t,” Gilbert replies, confused why it matters. 

“They adopted her just before your father passed away, I heard. You went away to our steamer, then straight to college, so you never had a chance to meet her. But when you sent me and Mary to this house, she was here waiting for us. Someone had told her that she’d be getting new neighbors, neighbors that might face the same sort of hardships she did when she first arrived. She showed us around Avonlea, helped Mary clean the house after being empty so long. Her name is Anne. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.” 

“Did something...happen to her? Do you need me to see her?” 

“You can’t,” Bash spits bitterly. Then, remembering himself, he says, “She’s not sick.” 

“I don’t understand, then.” 

Bash sighs, balling his fists in his lap. 

“Mary and I went to visit her son in Charlottetown for an afternoon last week. Anne offered to come and give everything a good cleaning while we were gone, as a neighborly gift or something. We tried to tell her that it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted. She’s not one to lose battles. She arrived a few hours past dawn, but when we came back, she was gone. Then we found out she never went home to Green Gables. No one in Avonlea has seen her in over a week.”

Suddenly, it makes sense to Gilbert why the house is weighty with the feeling of loss . It has lost something. Gilbert doesn’t know this Anne, but whoever she is, she took the island’s light with her.

“What do you think happened?” Gilbert asks, rubbing his knuckles over his eyes.

“Someone broke in. Found a woman all by herself with no one around for miles. You can imagine the rest.” Bash holds his fist with his other hand, as if he might hit something if he lets go. “Anne is...a unique woman. Kind and brave. But to Avonlea she is strange and of varlet stock, and with the way they see Mary and I… Only a few families have been willing to help us look for her. Would you? In the morning? You know Avonlea better than us.” 

Gilbert doesn’t hesitate. 

“I will.” 

3: A Recollection

It just doesn’t add up, Gilbert thinks bitterly, splashing cold water on his tired cheeks. His reflection stares back at him, looking just as dejected as he feels. But what else could there be? I’ve already scoured the house. No signs of a struggle. Nothing broken or stolen. Guess I’ll just have to look just as hard in town. See if anyone knows anything. He scoffs. It sounds like something out of a children’s book. A fair maiden walks into a house that swallows her up whole. Too bad I’m a doctor and not a knight. He means it only in jest, but it sparks the flame of an idea in the farthest corner of his mind—the corner containing his childhood and its fanciful inventions. 

And then, there it is. A memory, a reminiscence of sorts. 

One wardrobe. 

One door drawn open.

One small Gilbert Blythe crawling into it. 

He couldn’t have been more than six or seven when it’d happened, nor can he remember why he’d even ventured into the wardrobe in the first place. Perhaps it had been a particularly clever hideaway in a game of hide-and-go-seek. Or maybe his father had sent him in search of his coat and something had tipped him off that there was more. 

The memory itself is relatively uneventful. Little Gilbert opened the wardrobe door, crawled in, and somehow, miraculously tripped into a bank of snow. The bank of snow was only a mere plot of land in a world Little Gilbert was not brave enough to explore. He’d scurried back to the door, but left it cracked open for just a moment longer to memorize the world he’d found. It left an image in his mind that he carried with him forever, a memory just as fond as that of the Storygirl—a patch of evergreen trees, sweet air, and an impossible winter magic. 

Let’s pretend for a moment this memory is actually a memory and not just a childish imagination, Gilbert ponders. If Anne came to clean the house, maybe she opened the wardrobe to clean it and organize it. Could she have fallen in? Maybe she’s lost! Maybe she has no way home and—

Dr. Blythe, get a hold of yourself. Exhaustion has made you mad. 

You’ll assist Bash in the morning, you’ll question the town’s people, you’ll come to the bottom of this. But you won’t be able to find her by courting such preposterous ideas.

4: An Act of Trust

His resolve lasts an entire hour.

Then it dissolves hopelessly and gives way to the memory of the Wardrobe-world.  Pacing in front of his father’s bed, Gilbert weighs whether or not he should indulge his childhood suspicions. It plays over and over in his mind, a frustrating possibility.

At first, he fights it.

If Anne Shirley-Cuthbert is really as headstrong as the Bash has described her to be, then perhaps she left on her volition, tired of small-island life. It can’t be that hard to believe that a woman could abandon a monotonous past in favor of whatever this young century has to offer her. Gilbert’s very last suspicion should be that Anne somehow found a magical world inside a wardrobe and never returned. Yet, here he is, nudging his foot along the carved trim of the wardrobe with an itching to open it . 

Damn it all. What is there to lose?  

Then he does open it. The hinges of the doors screech after being left to sleep, untouched for a decade. At first, it smells of mothballs and the stale smell of his father’s clothes. But seconds later, there’s a hint of sweet—

Gilbert slams the door shut. Absolutely not, he scolds himself. You’re hallucinating. You want this woman to return so badly that you’ll pretend she’s anywhere but dead in a ditch. But then again … Gilbert turns back to the door, placing his hand on the newly dusted wood. Who would know if he indulged in this wild feeling? Shouldn’t he, a trained doctor and an intelligent man, listen to his own gut? 

Alright , he decides. If he’s going to do this, he isn’t going to do it halfway. 

With a short breath, he draws the door open and closes his eyes shut. Then, he’s crawling in, a grown man squeezed into the tight confines of a wooden closet. It’s difficult to breathe above the heavy smell of age and wool, but just like before, it slips away into an unexpected sweetness. Gilbert crawls closer to it, hands and knees finding new space with every pace forward. Behind him, the wardrobe door is abandoned and opened, but Gilbert doesn’t come back out. 

Instead, his fingers find tall, soft grass and his intuition cries in victory.

5: A Twinless Shoe

Gilbert allows himself exactly ten seconds to sit and stare at the pleasant forest clearing before doing what any logical doctor might do in his situation—secede to the visual proof of a magical world and promptly begin observations.

On a first glance, the impossible world-inside-the-wardrobe doesn’t seem all too different than his Avonlea. There are clusters of trees surrounding the clearing, each crowned with vibrant shades of green, moreso than those of home. A mystical softness teems in the air like a breeze, loitering along his skin until he is a mess of goosebumps. A single lamppost towers over him catching sunlight, unlit but clean of moss or dirt. At its base, a leather boot, dainty and slim. 

Something clears its throat, propelling Gilbert’s soul from his body at the shock of it. He whirls around, grass stains on the knees of his trousers. Before him, sits a trio of white-tailed foxes, peering at him with more expression than should be allowed for such creatures. Gilbert tries to steady his pulse but finds the effort unsuccessful. 

“They’re only foxes,” he reasons with himself. “They make all sorts of strange noises. No cause for alarm.”

“That’s a foolish delusion,” the largest of the foxes answers. 

Gilbert blinks. The fox quirks an invisible brow.

“I beg your pardon?” Gilbert stammers. 

The fox stretches, equal parts annoyed and bored.

“With the types of humans that are supposed to stumble out of that door, you think you’d have a firmer head on your shoulders. Wonder what Aslan chose you for?” 

“I dunno, Rambleleaf. Maybe he’s here for entertainment?” the second fox pipes in. Turning her sunbright amber eyes to him, she asks, “Do you sing? Dance? Tell stories?” 

“That is what he brought Anne for,” the third fox adds. “Maybe one storyteller wasn’t enough.”

“I have a hard time believing that this schmuck could tell stories as well as Anne could,” Rambleleaf counters.  

“Anne’s here ?” Gilbert spits out, desperate. The conversation between the foxes dies out as quickly as it started, replaced by a stunned silence. They exchange a glance, as if deciding whether or not to indulge this fumbling fool in Anne’s whereabouts, but Gilbert is desperate. “Is Anne Shirley-Cuthbert here? I’m told she has red hair and freckles.” 

“You...you speak as if you don’t know her?” Rambleleaf queries, eyes narrow. 

“Not personally,” stammers Gilbert. He clambers to his feet and rushes to the foxes, who jolt but don’t shy away. It seems as if he has surprised them, as if they’ve never had a human kneel so desperately before them. “We’ve been looking everywhere for her, trying not to fear the worst. Her parents are friends of mine. They’re worried sick because one day she left to visit my family’s home and never returned. Please , will you take me to her. I need to make sure she’s okay.” 

“How did you know to look here?” Rambleleaf states, unconvinced. Gilbert can give them no answer, but the truth. 

“A feeling. I once came once here as a boy and remembered it, though I can’t say I know where here is.” 

Rambleleaf ponders this, his tail coming up to the underside of his chin, like a hand scratching at whiskers. His eyes trail to the boot underneath the lamppost, then fall undecidedly on the poor fellow before him. 

When finally he says something, it’s—“Who are you?” 

“Me? Oh, um, I’m Dr. Gilbert Blythe.” 

“Well, Dr. Gilbert sir, I’m Rambleleaf, or just Ramble if you’re nice about it. Welcome to Narnia.” The name Narnia sends a warm thrill down Gilbert’s spine to finally hear it. The existence of it is already enough cause for hope. Rambleleaf nudges Gilbert’s hand with a clawless paw and points over to the single boot laying sideways in the grass. “You’re in luck. We’re good friends of Anne’s. She sent us back to find the shoe she left behind, so if you want to see her, you can follow us back to the Larsack village. It’s not far from here. Just a bit north on the west border of the Western Woods.”  

“I’ll follow you,” Gilbert decides resolutely. 

“Good. Then grab that boot and we’ll be on our way.” 

Gilbert does as he’s told, pushing aside the frustration of being told what to do by a fox. With the shoe in his possession, he curses that he didn’t think to bring any sort of satchel or carrier case. Then again, he isn’t supposed to be here long. Just long enough to find Anne and bring her home. 

Then, without wasting another moment, the foxes disappear in the wood, leaving Gilbert to follow. 

And he does, the door to his father’s wardrobe entirely, completely forgotten.  

6: A Duet

They trek through the thicket of the forest until the soles of Gilbert’s feet have grown sore at the unfamiliar terrain beneath them. Having left his pocket watch sitting on his desk back home, Gilbert can’t be sure of how much time has passed—enough certainly for the foxes to have eased their snide opinion of him. He finds they like to listen, asking Gilbert all sorts of questions but offering no answers of their own. 

As it turns out, Gilbert is not so bad a storyteller, after all. 

“—but children believe in magic the way adults in my world don’t. So I told the little girl that the cure for her stomachache was a feather on the underside of her toes and all her laughter made her forget that she had eaten too many biscuits. Sometimes I think medicine has more possibilities than we can know. Certainly being here has…”

Gilbert slows to a stop and turns his ear to the sky. He draws in a quick breath of hope at the faint lilt of laughter, music, and one rich voice towering above it all. 

He takes off running, hopping over Rambleleaf and sprinting down the path. A crowd’s cheers and the minstrel songs grow closer and louder with each wide stride. He all but crashes into someone at the back of the crowd, scanning the clearing for a head of red hair and a face of sandy freckles. There are a few tents set up along the circle of the crowd, and in between them must be a hundred people sitting and standing, all with their attention locked on one person. From the back, Gilbert finds his view obstructed by some particularly tall Narnians. Just as he begins to plan a route through the mass of people, a soft paw nudges his ankle. 

“You’re just in time to hear her speak,” Rambleleaf says at his feet. “Can you lift me up so I don’t get stepped on? I want to see this too.” Gilbert kneels, allowing Ramble to hop onto his shoulder before embarking into the crowd, drawing closer and closer to the makeshift stage. 

And then he sees her and all the pieces of his mangled heart slant together, restoring it in one, breathless moment.

“The Storygirl, ” Gilbert heaves quietly. 

“That’s what we’ve taken to calling her here, too,” Ramble says. 

His Storygirl hasn’t changed a bit. There are still halos crowning her smile and kingdoms of possibilities in her eyes. But the young dreamer and commander of words Gilbert had seen in the fields all those years had grown so tall and beautiful that he had no words left for himself—only a fiery warmth and an insatiable desire to talk to her.  

“That’s Anne there?” Gilbert whispers to Ramble. 

“Unmistakable, right?” Ramble murmurs back.

“I’m going to get closer.”

“Oh, good! I can’t hear from all the way over here,” Rambleleaf agrees, nudging Gilbert with his nose. 

Gilbert collides with a few shoulders and elbows as he passes through, but only because he cannot tear his eyes away from her. He feels like the thirteen-year-old lad with weak knees and a pining heart all over again. When they’ve reached the makeshift stage, Ramble waves his tale to the Storygirl. The flash of white catches her attention and through the next words of her tale, she gives a dimpled smile and nod. 

Then her eyes fall on Gilbert and her tongue stumbles. He watches her gaze travel from his heart-struck eyes, to his Avonlea clothes, to her boot in his hand. Anne chuckled and extended her bootless foot. Gilbert blinked down at it, the “Doctor” part of his mind wondering if she wanted him to examine it. 

“The boot, Gilbert,” Ramble hisses in his ear. 

“Oh! ” 

Anne continues to keep the crowd enraptured in her tale even as Gilbert slides the boot over her lacy stockings and ties the laces. When he’s finished, she bends low to him and whispers, “Care to help me with my story?” 

“Me ?” Gilbert chokes. 

“Yes, Gilbert Blythe. You .” 

A shiver shoots like a flash of summer lightning down his back. How does she know my name? Gilbert’s mind wonders on repeat. He feels himself nod, only to be swept up onto the stage with her strong hands a second later. She offers Ramble a hand down, pressing a kiss to the top of his fur, then turns back to Gilbert. 

“Play along!” she murmurs quietly. 

Gilbert nods once more, turning nervous eyes to the crowd of onlookers. Beside him, Anne shoots back into her carefully woven tale. 

“It would’ve been easy for Cordelia to resign herself to the fate everyone wanted for her. But could she submit herself to everyday mundanities? Milking cows and pulling weeds? She could see the honor in these tasks, but somehow knew that her destiny laid elsewhere. She turned to a neighboring lad and asked him his thoughts.” 

Anne grabs Gilbert’s fingers and poses her body as if engaged in a conversation with him. Her tongue stills, and she urges Gilbert to take the next few lines. 

“Well, er…” Get it together, Blythe. He takes a deep breath. “The neighbor lad assured her that she bore enough heart and talent to succeed at any task she put her mind to. That it wasn’t a matter of finding her destiny, but...creating it? For herself.”

Anne smiles. Gilbert feels it thrum pleasantly behind his ribs. 

“Cordelia asked the neighbor lad if he would help her find the better feelings of her heart, the truth behind her soul and desires.” 

“He agreed,” Gilbert says resolutely. “Because the lad had already traveled across the world to find her. What was another journey?” 

7. A Pair at Tea

“You must tell me how you managed to find me!” Anne exclaims, pouring sweet tea into two small stone goblets. Her hair is loose over her shoulders, and Gilbert wonders if it’s the reason for the raspberry, rose smell of her.

Gilbert hasn’t quite shaken the timid nervousness. This is how he imagines he might feel if he were engaged in conversation with the King of England—only Anne is much more beautiful, even if she is just as intimidating. His eyes follow her hands as she hands him his tea, and he accepts the offering as something to occupy himself with.

He ignores her question. For now, at least.

“How...how do you know my name?” 

Anne smiles into her goblet.

“I’ve dusted your photograph hundreds of times helping Mary clean your home. You’re often all she can talk about when we’re polishing the silver or scrubbing windows.” 

“Really?” 

“Indeed. I know plenty about you, Dr. Blythe.” 

“Just Gilbert is fine,” he hums, cheeks warm. Then his eyes dim and he stares at his own reflection in his tea. “What sorts of things do you know?” 

Anne ponders this for a moment. Her fingers twist strands of hair into a gentle braid as she speaks, “I know that we just missed each other when we were children. That you left the island the same winter I arrived. I know that you’re the golden boy of Avonlea, and that all the mothers have been counting down the days until your return to marry their daughters to you. I know you won a prestigious scholarship that allowed you an excellent medical education. Congratulations by the way. I know—”

“ Alright !” Gilbert coughed. “I almost feel ashamed that I know barely anything about you. Only that you’re selflessly kind, a legendary master of storytelling, and that you’re unearthly beautiful.” 

Roses flourish her cheeks in lovely shades of red. Gilbert bites his lip to keep from smiling. 

“Anything you’d want to know, you only need ask. I’m an open book.”

“Then may I ask what it is you’re doing here?” Gilbert begins carefully. “The Cuthberts are worried sick. Bash and Mary, too. We all thought something terrible had happened to you.” 

“Terrible? Why? I’ve only been gone nearly a day. I’ve disappeared for longer periods of time into Charlottetown to visit friends.” 

Gilbert blinks.

“Anne, you’ve been missing for over a week. You came over to help clean the house a whole week ago.” 

Her face shoots up to him. 

“You must be mistaken. This isn’t my first time visiting Narnia. Time travels more quickly here than it does in Avonlea. That’s the way it’s always been.” 

“All I know is what I’ve been told.”

Anne rises from the table, a hand over her mouth. 

“A week? But...but how did you know where to find me?” 

It’s Gilbert’s turn to blush, but he answers honestly. 

“I think I accidentally stumbled upon Narnia as a boy, but always thought it was a dream or an imagination. When you went missing at my house, I just had this...feeling I couldn’t shake. I’m still having a hard time believing it, to be honest.” 

“For a man of science, I think you are doing admirably,” Anne says warmly. “I admit, I stumbled here in a similar way. I was going to wash your fathers old things because they’d grown so dusty, but I tripped into the wardrobe.” 

“That’s kind of you. To take care of my father’s things, I mean. Especially when you weren’t acquainted with him.” 

“Mary told me he meant a lot to you,” Anne answers easily. “Besides, you’re a man now. I thought you might like to wear some of his things to help keep his memory closer by. I know I wish I could. Wear my mother’s dresses, that is.” 

“Oh,” Gilbert frowns. “I apologize. I’d forgotten you’d lost your family too.” 

“An unhappy sort of thing to have in common with someone, I’ll admit,” Anne replies, a sad smile on her lips. “But you and I both have our makeshift families now. And this new little friendship of ours. That brings me to this question, though, Gilbert. How long do you plan on staying?” 

“How long do you plan to stay?” Gilbert replies, heart catching speed in his chest. 

“For the duration of the match,” Anne replies, as if it were obvious. 

“The...match?” 

“Ramble didn’t tell you? There’s a Storytelling Match that’s taking place right now. Whomever can spin the best tale will get to tell a story to Aslan, the King of Narnia.”

“Ramble did say something about Aslan bringing you here for entertainment.” 

“That’s only a guess,” Anne corrects warmly. “I’d like to win the match and meet Aslan, and then I plan to return home.”  

Gilbert isn’t sure what to say next. The right thing to do is return home and explain as best he can the truth behind Anne’s disappearance. At the very least, fabricate some lie that assures everyone of her safety and inevitable return home. 

But to his surprise, he finds he doesn’t want to leave. He wants to witness this storytelling match, support Anne and witness her victory. Maybe what Anne said about time in Narnia is right, after all. If they stay in Narnia for a while longer, perhaps it will be like no time has passed at all. 

“Will you stay, Gilbert?” Anne asks quietly. “I know you’ve just met me and that we’re barely acquaintances. I won’t fault you if you return back home to your patients and to our families. But…” 

“But?” Gilbert whispers hopefully. 

“But if you’d like to stay for a while and explore Narnia with me, I would welcome the company. In fact, I’d be glad for it.” 

“I’m so newly home that I don’t quite have patients yet,” Gilbert says offhandedly, mulling the idea over in his mind. “And there’s no guarantee that if I leave that I’ll ever be able to come back and see you. To make sure you’re alright.” 

“There’s not,” Anne agrees, eyes glimmering with warm light. 

He surprises himself with what he says next. 

“Then I’ll stay.” 

[drabbledragon]

Linktober: Graveyard

Here’s the start of Nocturne of Shadows week!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749021/chapters/65839948

Summary: A few Links have something in common, and wonder why that is.

Warnings: Mentions of death but nothing too graphic

Day 7: Graveyard

It was cold and rainy when the Links arrived in Legend’s Hyrule. It was good that they ended up so close to the castle, because a majority of them were unsure if they could go another half - day’s trip to the nearest inn with how exhausted they were. As soon as the castle guards caught sight of their resident hero, the group was immediately led inside with open arms and welcoming smiles, and had no qualms about bringing the Links to this Hyrule’s Zelda.

A full - course meal was a nice surprise for them. After they had gotten the chance to check in with the princess, the staff had eagerly ushered them into the royal dining room where every food known to man stood freshly prepared on the table, the warmth radiating from the meals almost palpable in the air. The afternoon was spent with light banter and hums of satisfaction as the heroes easily chatted with each other, enjoying the taste of real food and simply being grateful that they didn’t have to spend another night sleeping in a monster - infested forest. Soon late noon had turned into early evening, and the heroes took to doing whatever they wanted to do: from writing letters to reading books to whittling to sleeping, all the Links were busy doing something.

“Hey, you see that?”

Twilight stopped in his tracks and directed curious eyes towards Wild’s direction, following the latter’s gaze to where a castle window stood. He squinted past the clear panes to get a better look at what his protege was so interested in, and finally drew his brows together when he caught sight of a lone figure sitting in the heavy rain. 

He leaned forward as he noted, “ Red tunic, blond hair … that’s Legend, isn’t it? What’s he doing out there?”

The clack of heels didn’t become evident until they were just a few steps away from the two heroes, and both of them turned just in time to catch Fable, Legend’s Zelda, looking through the window alongside them.

She scrunched up her eyes as she searched around outside, and when she finally found the person of interest, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“It’s that day already, huh,” She murmured as she drew back. “ Felt like it’d only been yesterday since he last did this.”

The two others were quiet for a second, before Twilight hesitantly spoke up.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Princess, but I’d like to know why Link is outside on a day like this.”

“That’s none of your concern, now is it?”

The both of them were taken aback by the sharp words, but her tone held no bite. She appeared solemn and serious, not a single bit of her boisterous and mischievous personality to be found.

She soon continued her steady pace down the halls again, eyes trained carefully ahead as if the harsh rain outside did nothing to faze her; but before she was able to round the corner, she paused and quietly said,

“Link is at the Royal Graveyard, mourning someone he had lost two years ago.”

Her words were weighty, and they were enough to make Twilight and Wild feel like a wave had crashed down on them. They were at a loss for words, and neither of them made any move to pry more information from the princess or even bother to stop her from disappearing from view; the two simply stood there in stunned silence, acutely aware of the little rain droplets that dribbled down the window.

It was Wild who finally broke the silence when he said, “ I’m gonna go talk to him.”

“Wait, seriously? Don’t you think he could use a little alone time? He’s usually really keen about settling things on his own, especially when it comes to people.”

“I know that but I...” The Hero of Wilds bit his lip for a moment as he glanced between his mentor and the window. “ … but I just have a feeling. Listen, I’ll hang out there for a sec, and if he really wants to be left alone, then I’ll leave, okay? Promise.”

Twilight opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. If there was anyone that could deal with mourning and loss in the group, it was Wild, and if his instincts told him to go to Legend, Twilight wouldn’t even second - guess it. He held his breath as he watched his protege’s retreating form, hoping with all his heart that his cub was right on this one.

It didn’t take long for Wild to find the graveyard - just a left, a right, another quick left, down the stairs and he was there, the rain’s cold chill already beginning to settle in his bones. He carefully made his way through the neatly lined graves, and didn’t stop until he found Legend silently kneeling in front of a particular stone.

The Hero of Legend looked worse for wear: his blond hair was pasted haphazardly to his face and neck, and his red tunic was soaked with the rain from above and the mud from below. He looked weary from where he stood, and his shoulders were hunched forward as if the weight of the world were pressing down on them, forcing him back to the ground whenever he had an inkling of hope that he might be able to stand up and walk away. 

This was a different Legend, Wild frowned, not the gruff and testy teen they all knew and loved, but rather a young boy who had seen one too many destroyed towns, fought one too many battles, and saw one too many people die because of him. The Hero of Wilds felt his heart break at the sight.

“Go away.”

That was Legend’s voice, but his tone was low and raspy, holding none of its usual fire. Despite the other’s command, the champion tightened the grip on his cloak and took a step forward.

“Legend, you shouldn’t be alone here.”

“I want to.”

“You say that but you don’t mean it.”

“I do.”

“Look, I know what you’re going thro -”

“Hylia, Wild, just take the hint and leave!”

The outburst was enough to shut Wild up, and prevented him from taking another step. He stood quietly as he watched Legend’s head dip lower, and he had to strain his hearing in order to hear the other murmur out,

“Please, just leave.”

He could’ve sworn that it started to rain harder, like Hylia herself was crying for Legend’s loss. The graveyard became enveloped in a misty fog, and any semblance of the evening moon was covered up by gray clouds that refused to leave. The Hero of Wilds stood still for a few seconds before eventually settling himself on the muddy ground, just a row away from where Legend’s loved one resided. With a steadying breath, he began,

“I used to have a lot of friends and family, y’know. According to Zelda, I used to be one of the most loved soldiers in all of Hyrule, and the pride and joy of my family. I lived with my mom and dad and sister in a little house in Hateno, and the people there told me that I used to spend the whole day playing with the village kids until the sun setted. My dad was a knight, and the whole reason I was even discovered to be Hylia’s Chosen was because one of the visiting soldiers saw that I could wield a sword at the age of five. It’s kinda weird, right? Having a bunch of old guys watch a little kid wave a sword around.”

Wild looked up to see if his attempt at humor had worked, but Legend remained as still and silent as before.

“And Zelda said I was thrown into the army by the next night. She said she remembered me following my dad around like a lost puppy, and I barely talked to anyone, even when they were asking questions directly to me. I made friends with Mipha and Daruk really quick, and then Zelda and Urbosa and Revali; I wouldn’t talk to them no matter what, but Zelda said Daruk and Revali were doing most of the talking anyway, so it didn’t really matter. I would spend the whole day training instead of playing, and she said I almost never went home because Rhoam forced me to stay so I could protect the castle and the royal family. My dad went home to my mom and sister, and Mipha, Daruk, Urbosa, and Revali all went home to their families, and I was the only one left.”

“I was alone, and Zelda started to hate me because of how annoying I was. Soon everyone started to hate me because of how much Rhoam loved me, and I couldn’t do a single thing about it. I was told that since I was a hero chosen by the Goddess, I had to do whatever the kingdom wanted me to do, and whatever I thought didn’t matter; it was always protect Zelda and do whatever the king asked. I missed out on a lot: my childhood, my friends, my family, all because I was supposed to be some legendary hero.” He choked out a watery laugh. “ Now I can’t even remember any of that: I can’t remember my mom’s or my dad’s or my sister’s faces, I can’t remember how the soldiers used to treat me before they started to hate me, I can’t remember the places Mipha, Daruk, Urbosa, Revali, and Zelda used to take me - I can’t remember anything. I’m just some former champion that was nearly killed by the Calamity 100 years ago, and I have feelings that I can’t explain the reason of.”  

Wild’s throat grew tight with emotion, and he did his best not to let the sobs wrack his body. A small part of his brain reminded him that no, he shouldn’t be throwing himself a pity party, he should be comforting Legend, but he couldn’t help it. It was all so unfair: all the other Links could remember their friends and family even if they were long gone but Wild was the only one who couldn’t; all he could remember were fragments of his time under Rhoam and whatever his Zelda told him to be true. He was a blank and empty slate that could barely remember his friends and family but still held a myriad of emotions towards them. 

He wondered if he should just go on in life pretending that the last 117 years didn’t happen - that all the good and bad memories he had of his friends and families were all due to vivid fever dreams.

“My uncle died two years ago.”

The champion was caught off guard when Legend finally spoke, and although the former was barely holding it together, he did his best to listen to the other’s soft words.

“It was when I was on another adventure. I came back to the castle as soon as I was back in Hyrule, and the moment I stepped inside, I saw Zelda waiting there with my uncle’s sword and shield. She didn’t need to say a thing; by the way she looked at me, I knew what was up: my uncle was dead, stabbed by an Armos when he least expected it. She told me the death was quick, and that the soldiers travelling along with him made sure he died as comfortably as possible. They said his last words were ‘tell Link I’m proud of him’, but I don’t know if that’s what he actually said; maybe the soldiers were just trying to make me feel better.”

“I was locked up in my house for days, and no matter how many times the castle’s soldiers tried to break down my door and threaten me, I wouldn’t leave. I was depressed, and I didn’t want anything to do with Hyrule anymore. He was everything to me: he took me in when my parents were trapped in the Dark World, he taught me how to fight and wield a sword, and he gave me all the unconditional love I could ever ask for.” He tilted his head up to the sky, and Wild wasn’t sure if it was rain or tears falling from his face. “ I wonder if things would’ve changed if I was back home instead of out there adventuring - if I just became a regular soldier at Hyrule Castle instead of being a Goddess - forsaken hero.”

His frame was shaking, but his voice stayed strong and firm. “ I miss him more than anything in the world, but I don’t regret having any memories of him, and you shouldn’t regret having any memories of your friends and family either, no matter how little they are.”

It was ironic, the champion thought: here Legend and Wild were, two links in the same heroic chain, that were supposed to be selfless and loyal and a beacon of hope to the citizens of Hyrule, crying in a graveyard. They had been through their own set of adventures, faced their own trials and tribulations, but they both still had the same feelings as a citizen towards death. They were two broken kids who just wanted to enjoy a happy life.

Wild took in a shuddering breath and quietly asked, “ Do you think people die because we’re Chosen Heroes?”

Legend’s answer was short and simple, not an inking of hesitance in his voice, “ Yes.”

<Previous Next>

[monstrousromantic]

The Princess and the Spider - II

Words - 4100

           When Maeve woke the second time, she found that she felt somewhat better. She made to stand up but quickly stopped. Not only was she sore, but she was still incredibly naked. She blinked, trying to remember what had happened. She recalled the bear and the cliff but after that there wasn’t much. She thought she vaguely recalled food and a woman. The woman who had saved her. She did her best to take in the rest of her surroundings, but the fire only illuminated so much.  A glint caught her eye from the corner. Her armor. The metal ornaments on the leather glittered in the light of the fire and in that moment, Maeve found them infinitely more lovely than the finest gems in her father’s treasury. She did not like being in a strange place with no clothes, especially since the place was a cave. Taking one more glance around, ensuring her “guardian” truly was absent, she dropped the silk and made a beeline for her things.

           However, as her fingers gripped the armor, she found something to be deeply wrong. Why were the leather laces on the floor and not attached as they should have been? As she fumbled with the pieces, a frown stealing her face, a voice sounded from the entrance of the cave.

           “Princess? Oh good! You’re awake!” Sir’vera exclaimed. Maeve gawked. So the spider hadn’t been a fever dream after all. She did her best to maintain a neutral expression as Sir’vera effortlessly dragged a dead deer behind her. “Look what I got for breakfast! Since you’re still sick I’ll turn it into soup. You’re going to need your strength to get better.” She got to hanging the deer up by the entrance in the cave, tying the hooves with her silk as she spoke. She placed a bucket beneath the head, carving a small gash into the neck so that the blood would drain. When she turned, she seemed to be seeking her approval, nodding her head at the deer.

           “That’s a very nice catch.” Maeve said, unsure if that would suffice. Sir’vera beamed.

           “Thank you! But this is correct? This is how humans prepare their meat?” Her jeweled eyes stared down expectantly. Maeve felt her brows furrow. Was this not how Sir’vera normally prepared food? Maybe she just swallows the animals whole. Maeve wasn’t sure that she truly wanted to know, so she staved down her curiosity and simply nodded. She had curled in on herself, protecting what modesty she could, but Sir’vera didn’t seem to notice. The four eyes blinked, and her eyebrows furrowed. She scuttled over to Maeve’s makeshift bed and lifted the discarded blanket.

           “What are you doing?” The princess asked. The silk was draped around her shoulders and atop her head.

           “You must stay warm if you are to get better.” The spider said, a serious tone taking over her normally cheerful voice. She lifted Maeve away from her destroyed armor and plopped her back down on the blankets. “I don’t know very much about your kind, but I know you get sick easy. The widow told me everything I needed to know to save you.”

           “The widow?” Maeve asked, pushing the blanket off her face. Her curiosity outweighed her caution as she stared up at Sir’vera expectantly. She nodded.

           “Yes! She knows all sorts of things about humans. She was able to fill in some blanks for me. To be honest you’re the first I’ve ever seen up close.” She mused. Maeve took a moment to choose her next words carefully.

           “And what do you think of the first human you’ve ever seen?” She asked, as innocuously as possible. To that Sir’vera stilled before turning, a thoughtful look on her face. She came closer, the fur on her leg nearly brushing Maeve’s face as the spider stared her down. Glaring at the wicked talons on her fingers Maeve sat as still as possible as Sir’vera inspected her face. She felt a sharp nail trail down her cheek, beneath her eye, and then her throat. It seemed that spiders didn’t quite understand personal space. Maeve choked down her pride, not sure she wanted to risk offending her hostess.  

           “You’re very pretty.” She said. “You’re not very strong. Frankly, you are incredibly fragile. Honestly, I’m unsure as to how you ended up among the ruling species.” Sir’vera’s eyebrows furrowed. “And I only just now realize that’s likely incredibly rude.”

           “Very,” Maeve couldn’t help but remark, “But I think I understand why you might think that.” Sir’vera had the good graces to look embarrassed. At least, Maeve thought that was embarrassment. It was surprisingly difficult to read four eyes instead of two.

           “Well then you can say a rude thing to me in recompense?” What should have been a statement came out as a question. Maeve wasn’t stupid. As the fire beside her roared and Sir’vera settled on her massive abdomen the princess tried to think of the best way to take advantage of the opportunity that had just been granted to her.

           “I have no idea how to ask without sounding rude, so I supposed this is the time.” She remarked wryly. “What, exactly, are you?” And are you going to eat me? To her relief, Sir’vera laughed.

           “I was wondering when that question would come. I’m just me.” She grinned.

           “You…don’t know?” Maeve asked, unable to help herself. How could she not know what she was? Was she the only one of her kind? She’d said she had a mother, but Maeve noticed the distinct lack of a second spider-woman. Sir’vera’s smile took on a smug tone.

           “It’s not that I don’t know, it’s that the name we have for ourselves doesn’t translate very easily. I suppose you would call us spider-folk.” Her voice was gentle. Maeve hadn’t offended her. While she didn’t necessarily let her guard down, she was able to let herself physically relax for just a moment. She was so sore. Sir’vera spoke again, coaxing her with the promise of more answers to any questions she might have.

           Well I suppose this is the moment of truth. She thought.

           “Are you going to hurt me?” Maeve asked, her voice so soft she momentarily wondered if Sir’vera heard her. The wounded expression on the spider’s face told the princess she had.

           “No. Of course not. Why would you think that?” She asked.

           “You’re clearly a predator of high caliber.” Maeve placated. “You made a point of telling me how fragile I am. I just needed to make sure, I suppose.”

           Sir’vera blinked at her placidly. It seemed that Maeve’s attempt at flattery hadn’t done much. The spider stood, turning her back on the princess. Maeve could see as a pair of smaller legs, almost like knitting needles, pulled silk from the spinnerets.

           “I know I must look frightening to you, all things considered.” She stated. “But I promise, I don’t make it a point to hurt people. Not even humans.”

           With that, Sir’vera fell into silence. Despite Maeve’s attempts, the spider refused to say anything more as she wove her silk into something of use. Maeve sighed, staring at the cave entrance. The stag’s dead eyes stared back.

/*\

           Sir’vera wasn’t surprised to hear the gentle snoring. Maeve had fallen back asleep, likely a good thing, but she was still hurt. She supposed her wording was less than tactful, but still. It was a good thing that the princess had introduced herself as such.

           At least I didn’t have to ask if she was female. She thought. That likely would have brought on a whole other onslaught of misunderstandings.

           Sir’vera picked and pulled at the thread. Sometimes she had to whittle down the silk into smaller strands, being too thick for what she wanted. Right now, blankets for Cora and Tyrath were priority. They’d be showing up any day now and she was behind enough on the favor as is.

           She wove the thread into textile, creating a large duvet in only a matter of hours. She tended to get lost in her weaving when she was upset. Was she right to be upset? She wasn’t sure. As she searched her drawer for the cotton to stuff it with, she faintly registered a small shape lowering itself from the ceiling. The widow again.

           “So, what’s got you in a tizzy?” She asked, “My new husband was concerned but I needed him to catch dinner. What’s wrong?”

           “The princess hurt my feelings.” She confessed. “I don’t think I’m scary! In fact, mother always told me I was the least frightening of my siblings, far too friendly and soft for my own good. Was she right?”

           “Perhaps,” the widow responded, waving a leg, “but try and see things from the human’s perspective. She doesn’t know you, and it’s obvious how different you are from one another. She was brought here by an angry bear and an angrier ocean. Be patient with her. She’s feeling immensely vulnerable right now. Don’t be upset with her for protecting herself.”

           Sir’vera nodded, watching as the widow returned to her web. She berated herself as she finally allowed herself to look back at the sleeping figure by the fire. The widow was right. Maeve just needed time to heal up and get to know her better. That was all. She had been wrong to be offended. That’s what she told herself as she righted the misplaced hairs on Maeve’s forehead, placing them neatly back into the braids she’d woven.

           That was when a terrible stench took her nose, the water droplets on Maeve’s forehead telling her exactly what it was. Yes, the human princess was pretty. Capable of hurting Sir’vera’s feelings after a mere day of shared space. However, that didn’t mean the princess didn’t stink to high heaven.

           It was unlikely that she’d bathed since her trip into the ocean. If that could even be considered a bath. Scrunching up her nose Sir’vera backed away, realizing she had been negligent once again. Shame welled up in her stomach. She’d been messing this up from the moment she plucked Maeve from the water. First with the food and water, and now with the bathing requirements.

           She wondered at what to do. She doubted that Maeve would appreciate being unceremoniously dumped into the water, but she was also hesitant to wake her up. After the fall she’d had she needed rest to fully recover. That was when something caught her attention from the corner of her eye. The deer. She’d completely forgotten about the deer, and the blood had overflowed out of the bucket she’d placed. Four of the carpets she had so painstakingly woven were irreversibly stained a hideous shade of rusted brown.

           Sir’vera had to fight down the tears that were welling up in her eyes. This was such a disaster. Why had she even saved the human in the first place? She wiped at her face, careful not to nick her own skin with her claws.

           No, she thought, no I will not cry. It’s not Maeve’s fault and it’s not my fault either. I’ve never tried to prepare a deer this way before, it’s fine that there was an accident. And it was. Sir’vera had inspected the mess, telling herself to calm down as she observed the bloodstained illustrations. Just like that, she felt the welling tears diminish. She plucked one off the ground and held it up, blinking as she processed what she was seeing. It gave her an idea. Instead of disposing of the squares, she folded them up neatly. Finally, there was a purpose for that empty table just opposite the brazier.

           Yes, everything would be fine. That’s what she told herself as she took the mop from the little closet she’d carved into the rock. She’d get this blood cleaned up and butcher the meat. The widow had told her what parts of the deer humans liked to eat. She’d be fine to save the rest for herself. Besides, it would probably be better to get Maeve to eat before bathing. And so, with an actual plan in mind, Sir’vera got to work. Carefully she sliced through the hide with her talons. Everything would be fine.

/*\

           The third time Maeve awoke was probably the best. Where Sir’vera had been undoubtedly shunning her before, now she was smiling. She was standing next to the fire, a large cauldron sitting within the embers. As Maeve sat up, just as sore as before, she realized that Sir’vera was very studiously stirring a batch of soup. It didn’t smell quite like what the spider had made for her before, but it certainly wasn’t unappetizing. As Maeve looked to the spider questioningly, she smiled.

           “Good morning,” Sir’vera greeted. “You were asleep most of the afternoon. It’s just about nightfall. If you feel up to it, you can have a bath after we eat.”

           “You eat soup?” Maeve asked, startled. She immediately wanted to kick herself. It seemed that Sir’vera had finally gotten herself back into a good mood. Now Maeve just had to spoil it first thing. Why was she so worried about the spider’s feelings anyway? But Sir’vera didn’t pout, instead she laughed.

           “Oh, don’t worry. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I do have some human characteristics. Soup agrees with me just fine.” She assured. “I have a cookbook that some friends of mine traded for a set of blankets. It’s come in quite handy over the years.”

           Maeve, unsure what to say, remained silent as Sir’vera ladled a steaming spoon of soup into a bowl. She offered it up, smiling expectantly. Maeve took it. To her delight, it was just as delicious as the first bowl Sir’vera had given her. She gently sipped at the broth, studying Sir’vera carefully. Her safety had been assured, but then Sir’vera could have been lying. But if she’d been lying, then why bother to keep her alive for so long?

           The simple truth was that Maeve would have to trust the spider for as long as she was still healing. She would need time before making her way back to the castle. She frowned at the thought. Did she really want to go back? Perhaps Sir’vera’s lair would make a nice hiding spot while she decided. Sir’vera seemed to notice.

           “You look upset. Is the soup not good?” Her voice was too calm, too polite. Maeve might have only known her for a day but Sir’vera had not been shy with her personality. In fact, this was something she’d seen in several people, mostly servants, and it made her sad. She was bracing herself for Maeve to say something cruel. The princess shook her head violently, almost instantly regretting it as the dizziness set in.

           “No, no not at all. The soup is wonderful. I was just thinking about something is all.” She assured. Sir’vera visibly relaxed, her face growing inquisitive as the impassive façade faded. She took a few sips from her own bowl before glancing back over.

           “May I ask what you were thinking about?” Her voice was tentative. Maeve shook her head.

           “It’s nothing worth talking about. It’s just…” Maeve couldn’t think of a word, so she made do with the most disgusted sound she could make. She took a deep breath and immediately scrunched her nose. Beneath the smell of soup, something icky lurked. What was it? As she inspected her surroundings, she realized it was coming from her blankets. The smell of sweat permeated the air and she felt her face grow pink.

           Her. The nasty smell was coming from her. She sighed, placing her face into her hand. Sir’vera started, a panicked look crossing her face. Maeve shook her head and waved her off. Sir’vera settled but she still looked concerned.

           “What is it?” She asked softly, her delicate fangs glinting in the firelight as she spoke.

           “Well, can I take that offer of a bath once dinner is finished?” She asked, averting her gaze as she stared into her bowl. She was sore, hungry, thirsty, and now sick and sweaty. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so disgusting. All she wanted was to wash up, put on a fresh chemise, and sleep for a thousand years. At least, that was how she felt about it in that very moment. She could hear the humor in Sir’vera’s voice when she spoke.

           “Of course. There’s an underground hot spring just through that corridor there.” She gestured and Maeve balked. Indeed, there was a large passageway, just beside a stack of shelves. The opening was pitch black, and it was something that Maeve would avoid with a healthy amount of respect had she been alone. She could feel the distress physically wring her stomach. She hadn’t noticed the corridor there the first time she’d awoken, or even the second. Had she really been in such a bad way that she’d been completely oblivious to the gaping opening before her? The potential danger? Sir’vera took the bowl and helped her to stand, letting the blankets fall away. When Maeve went to protest Sir’vera shrugged.

           “We both have the same parts. Well, the same human parts. Nothing to be worried about.” She smiled. Maeve supposed it was true. Though she couldn’t necessarily see the tips of Sir’vera’s breasts, all it would take was a misplaced lock of hair for that to change. At this point, did modesty really matter? Maeve decided it didn’t, so with as much grace as she could muster, she let the spider guide her down the hallway, stark naked.

           Nude or clothed, she was still the princess.

           The hallway was dark, and as each step left her legs aching just that much more Maeve forced herself to persevere. She could faintly feel steam hitting her face, and that was when she realized something vital. Sir’vera could see in the dark much better than she could. She was about to voice her concerns when sparks caught the corner of her eye. Sir’vera had lit a torch, and even in the dimness of the light Maeve couldn’t help but gasp.

           The spring itself was exactly that. A spring. There was a small opening to let out steam and torch smoke, but that wasn’t what had her gasping. As Sir’vera rounded the room, lighting more and more torches, the ceiling began to glow. Maeve wasn’t sure what manner of gem they were, but crystals reflected the light across each other and back down. Three torches had rendered the room as bright as day. She turned to Sir’vera, astounded. She didn’t even have to ask.

           “Spider crystals.” She stated easily. “They come from hardened spider silk.” Maeve whirled, a thousand questions on her lips when Sir’vera waved her off. “Not now. You need to bathe. I didn’t want to be rude but, you do smell quite bad.” She winced sympathetically. Maeve couldn’t help it. She rolled her eyes.

           “Stench is unfortunately something no one can avoid, not even royalty.” She drawled, grumpily taking a step into the spring with Sir’vera’s help.

           Maeve hadn’t realized just how cold she’d been. Despite the sweat and the blankets and the fire, the water had her shivering. Not because it was chilly, the spring was quite warm indeed. It made her notice the cold that sat in her skin, all the way down to her bones. Her feet were finally warming up, and as the water ate away at the cold that even fire couldn’t conquer, she could feel herself sighing. Her muscles relaxed, the soreness fading just enough for her to notice. She faintly registered the sound of Sir’vera’s steps, and lazily watched as she crossed the small pathway to a cupboard.

           Maeve wondered if her senses had suffered in the fall. First the entryway and now this. She wasn’t usually so oblivious as to overlook something as obvious as the wooden vanity set in the far corner of the room. Sir’vera was clearly looking for something, digging around in drawers that wouldn’t quite close and cabinets with slightly uneven handles. Maeve wasn’t exceptionally alarmed, however, until Sir’vera got into the water herself.

           “What are you–?” Maeve was interrupted by a simple raised eyebrow.

           “I don’t sweat as much as you do, but I could also use a bath. I see no reason why we can’t use the hot spring together.” Her voice was stern, clearly unwilling to accept any argument. It was a small thing to sacrifice, Maeve decided. It wasn’t as though she were a man.

           The princess told herself that the blush was the result of the steam.

           Sir’vera handed her a bar. When Maeve inspected it further, she found it smelled like flowers. She glanced over to the side shyly before covertly trying to wash underneath her arms, where the smell had been worst. She hated smelling bad, more than she realized as she washed herself with a stranger sitting in the bath just next to her.

           “I was thinking about what you said earlier,” Sir’vera’s voice was soft as she casually ran the bar of soap down her arm, “and I realize I was being unfair.”

           “How so?” Maeve asked, appropriately startled.

           “You don’t know me, and you are correct. I am technically a predator, though I don’t really think of myself in those terms.” Her voice was firmer than it had been thus far. “You’re hurt and with someone you don’t know. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive. I apologize.”

           When Sir’vera turned to look at her, Maeve found that she believed the spider whole-heartedly. Her hair pooled around her guilty face, and Maeve’s response was near automatic.

           “It’s okay Sir’vera, I forgive you. I should also apologize. I was very quick to judge. It was unkind of me as well.” She said softly. Sir’vera seemed to brighten.

           “Does that mean we can be friends?” She asked, almost over-eager.

           Maeve though she was beginning to understand Sir’vera a bit better. She had been isolated for so long, and though she was certainly not human she clearly shared certain traits with them. She’d wager that Sir’vera was immensely lonely, and though Maeve was injured and healing she was still someone for Sir’vera to talk to. Maeve nodded.

           “Yes, we can be friends.”

/*\

           The search party had found something. In fact, they’d found it nearly an hour ago. They were just trying to figure out who was going to go and tell the king. The tracks didn’t lie, and the tracks told a tragic story indeed.

           The rain had washed away much of this story, the single stroke of lightning above mocking them. The bear’s pawprint had hardened in the mud, the one clear track on top of the princesses much less noticeable ones. They followed near the exact same trail, and though it vanished once it hit the grasses it was obvious what had transpired. There were no remains, no blood or clothes, so they didn’t think the bear had eaten her. But then, even a bear would not be so foolish as to chase her over a cliff.

           A short distance away from the troubled party, Prince Theron stared out across the field, wondering just what he should do about this if anything. He hadn’t necessarily wanted to have this princess’s hand in marriage. He didn’t know her, but that most certainly didn’t mean he wished death upon her. It was tragic indeed, because according to his spy’s reports she had felt much the same. She had stormed off to go on a hunting trip after her father had told her the news, never to be seen again. He felt the slightest bit sad for her. If only he’d known. If only she’d known. They’d have been able to talk at their scheduled courting dates. They could have figured something else out. They both would have had their happy endings.

           But alas, happy endings didn’t exist. As the prince turned his attention back to the darkening woods, he found himself sighing. It was a nice thought, but this was real life. That was why this poor princess, only but twenty, had ended up hurling herself off a cliff instead of surviving her fit of anger and returning home with a level head. Life was cruel, nature more so.

           The prince set off with his horse, the faintest twinge of guilt thrumming in his stomach. He was almost relieved. He wouldn’t be getting married anytime soon, but that poor princess at the bottom of the ocean? She wouldn’t get married ever.

[thehardkandy]

it feels so good to be actually...... bringing this fucking game together.

Like the last 2-3 weeks I’ve been doing a LOT of  tidying up of the code and stuff so that no game-breaking bugs exist in the engine (normal dialogue. branching dialogue, phone system, and day cycle all work easily & elegantly), and far, far less content & code is meant as any sort of placeholder.

We’ll have fixing up to do, but as far as things go, especially CSS-wise, it’s about tweaking colour, sizes, whitespace more than anything because all the component pieces have been whittled down to their most generalized forms, and I’ve put a lot of work into making a pretty consistent theme (eg. related elements all bare the same font-styling, box-styling, etc.) so that I can have a solid aesthetic, but with as little visual noise as possible.

The entire point of this engine is to make text-heavy browser games less daunting to read! See August 2019 (many things were in flux):

August 2020 of (roughly) the same screens:

You can see (I hope) that the game has come together a lot haha. I’m still thinking about different avenues for reducing visual business (a bit of tinting between the background & the foreground; changing the phone images (though I’ll say I’m very attached to the over-the-top “Love” on the pink watercolour background specifically for P1)

This is almost an amazing time to shout out @moonbafoon​ (check out their stuff!!) who did the backgrounds (there’s 1 more!), though I’m not currently doing them justice because my browser/screen is at the wrong resolution (going 2 b fixed up 4 the final release)

But any who, ~1,800 lines of CSS & ~400 lines of JS later, I have this nicely functional, modular game + engine that I think I will be able to pretty easily distribute.

It feels especially good to be wrapping up the content--the stuff I’m adding is things I said I’d add “later” rather than new shit I hadn’t budgeted time or brain space for.

Once I finish up these extra bits & the last dregs of main-sequence continuity, I can actually write the damn endings!

I’m certain the endings will be a piece of work, considering they have quite a few choices to reflect (& it’s being coded so that either 1) it will remember the choices from your previously play as the other princess or 2) it will generate a possible end result a player could get reflected on the wedding), but also I never even touched them until now precisely so that I wouldn’t be wasting a million hours updating them every time I realized I had a huge pivot on what I initially thought different sequences would be for (esp. since I wrote them, more or less, one at a time).

No clue how long it’ll take me to get the fully-formed beta made, but I hope it’s not too far from the horizon

[she-rainbow]

Fireside

Better late than never. I wrote this for @sherawintergiftexchange for @the-steampunk-dreamer whos prompt was “catradora, enemies to friends to lovers, but not quite lovers yet,” so of course I just wanted to write these two nerds healing. 

“I’m sharing a tent with Mermista?” Catra hissed under her breath at Glimmer who looked like she couldn’t be bothered with the next thing that came her way. She made her way through the labyrinth of tents and clicked her tongue as she told Catra to walk with her if she was going to waste her time complaining.

“Eternia, Catra, I’m sorry. It was the only way to make the tent assignments work.” She said. “Your only other option would have been Adora, so I thought I was doing you a favor.” 

“Can’t I switch with your tentmate? We’ve got plenty of experience sharing a confined space without killing each other.” Catra flashed her a grin, but Glimmer was thoroughly unimpressed. 

“No, Mermista specifically requested not to be put with Bow because quote he’s a ‘wet blanket,’

Whatever that means.” She signed a document that a general held out to her, then turned to Catra. “Plus Bow and I need to talk about some things.” 

“Wait.” Catra zigged through a few tents as Glimmer teleported away from her. “Talk to Bow about things. What things?” 

A sparkly blush rose to Glimmer’s cheeks as Catra caught up with her. “Nothing. Just things. I’m not talking about this with you.” 

“So there’s something to talk about.” Catra said, raising a brow and crossing her arms. 

Glimmer growled and shot a tiny sparkle at Catra’s ear, which she batted away. “Enjoy your night with Mermista.” 

“C’mon Sparkles. She’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

“None of the Princesses are your biggest fans. What do you propose I do about that?”

“Glimmer, she’s going to kill me in my sleep.” 

“Sleep with one eye open!” Glimmer suggested with a hyper bright smile. 

“She still mad about the whole Salineas thing.”

Glimmer crossed her arms. “I think she might have a right to still be mad about that one.” She laughed at the exhausted look Catra gave her. “Fine. I’ll talk to her. At least convince her not to kill you tonight… unless you do something to deserve it.” 

“Very funny, Sparkles.” 

“I have to go. Good night, Catra.” She called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the nearest tent, leaving a dull trail of purple glitter behind. 

Catra took a deep breath and crossed her arms. “You don’t have to pretend you weren’t listening,” She tossed at the shadow who’d been sitting, cross-legged around the corner where she and Glimmer had turned. 

“Just seemed polite.” Adora said, not looking up from whatever she was fiddling with in her hands. She dropped the obscure object in her lap and fumbled at a pouch on her belt and quickly tossed its contents to Catra who caught them—earplugs. Adora finally met Catra’s eyes with a small smile. “Mermista snores. You might want those.”

“Oh,” Catra blinked a little bewildered. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Adora replied, dusting herself off and sending Catra a quick wave. “Night, Catra.” 

Catra could hardly reply before Adora had fled the scene, and she was left with earplugs in her hand and nothing to do but go back to her tent.  

~~

Catra tiptoed across the campsite, following the scent of the night’s rations. For all their shortcomings in war strategy and army building, Princesses beat the Horde where food was concerned. Every dinner she’d had in the Rebellion far exceeded the tasteless slock of ration bars in the Horde. She snuck a few sausages and headed for the remains of the evening’s fire. The moons had disappeared on the horizon, but the newly hung stars blinked down at the team’s setup. They were on their way to the entrance of the Heart. 

That brief interaction earlier with Adora had been the most they’d talked since she’d joined the Rebellion. For the entire journey, and ever since Catra had emerged from a Prime ship escape pod hand in hand with Glimmer, Adora had been quiet, simmering, like a silent anger was constantly percolating inside her. Adora isolated was something Catra wasn’t used to. Back in what felt like another life, she spent every second with Catra, and when Catra took to her own solitude in the highest reaches of the Fright Zone, Adora had a trove of friends and admirers to occupy her, before she would look for Catra. She always eventually looked for Catra. 

Adora didn’t look for anyone much these days. Her friends checked on her — Bow and Glimmer caught her after strategy meetings, only Bow ever made her crack a smile though. Glimmer usually seemed to just deepen the concerned crease in Adora’s brow. She trains constantly, even with Scorpia sometimes, and flinches anytime someone anyone mentions She-Ra, so mostly no one does. Her goal is clear: to bring back She-Ra or at least train hard enough to make up for the difference. Micah was teaching her in magic, and she’d managed pale gold beams of light, sharp, weak, nothing like the power of the sword, nothing like She-Ra. It was all dumb Princess stuff to Catra, or dumb sorcerer stuff, which was even worse. One eight-foot goddess wouldn’t make the difference defeating Prime. 

Catra focused her attention the place she’d felt strongest in a fight, the war room. Meanwhile Adora meditated, avoided her friends and gave only small indications she was listening during strategy meetings. 

Adora’s solitude might have explained her avoidance of Catra if it had been subtle enough to be anything but deliberate. After Catra’s first Princess Alliance meeting (where Glimmer had proclaimed to a half-anxious, half-angry Princess Alliance that Catra was the Rebellion’s new strategist and that was that), Catra tried to talk to Adora and was abruptly blown off with a lame excuse. She’d been lucky enough to have Double Trouble in the wings during that one. “Tough break, kitten.” They’d drawled, emerging from the shadows. Catra didn’t try again after that. 

But something was changing, slowly, every day. Adora maintained eye contact during planning sessions and gave the smallest of chuckles when Glimmer and Catra snipped banter at each other at strategy meetings. They hadn’t talked though, really talked. As Catra heard one of Prime’s ships whizz overhead, she was reminded that they might never talk. Not before the world truly ended. 

“You can’t sleep either?” A voice broke through her thoughts. Her vision focused, and she realized the visibility hadn’t come from the stars and her night vision. The fire on the outskirts of their camp emitted a gentle glow like it had been minded for hours. 

Catra took the question as an invitation and sat wordlessly next to Adora who was crouched over a small branch in her hands. She took her knife to it again and again in what looked like the calmest act of aggression Catra had ever seen until she realized the cuts in the wood were purposeful. A small design was making its way up the sides of the branch. “What are you doing?” She asked. 

“It’s called whittling.” Adora answered not looking up. The front few strands of her hair were pulled up and out of her face, but a stray bang fell onto her forehead. Catra pretended not to notice. “It’s where you cut into a piece of wood and turn it into something else.” She held up another carving in her lap, a small owl she’d cut into a stick the size of her thumb. 

“You had time to pick up a hobby?” Catra asked.

Adora shrugged. “We travel a lot.” She looked up at Catra. “What kept you up?”

Her mind fluttered briefly to Mermista, how she could easily blame it on her snoring, how Adora gave her shoddy earplugs that couldn’t block out the sound. But they were a peace offering, and for once, Catra wanted to be at peace too. Glimmer had been telling her she needed to be more honest with herself and others. She could start here. “Nightmares.” She answered simply, hoping Adora wouldn’t make her elaborate. She didn’t know if she could explain her night terrors to the person who’d so often starred in them. 

“Me too.” Catra wondered how many of Adora’s nightmares she’d featured in. 

She looked down at Adora’s hands for a subject change. “So, what’s that supposed to be?”

Adora flushed and ran her thumb across the side of her carving. “I swear I already knew what it was going to be before you got here.” 

“What?”

“It’s a cat.” Adora held it up, indicating the angled top that would become the edges of ears.

Catra took the carving from her. “Eh, I don’t know. Something looks off.”

Adora laughed softly and snatched her totem back. “Well, you would be the expert. It’s not done yet.” 

“So, how do you know what it’s going to be?”

“I don’t know.” Adora fixed her eyes on the unfinished branch as its polished side gleamed in the firelight. “It’s like the wood tells me what it’s going to be… That sounds dumb.” 

“A little.” Catra smiled, then hesitated. “Why are you being so nice to me?” 

Adora seemed far away as she looked at the softly roaring flames in front of them. “Scorpia says you’re trying, so I should try too.” 

The answer surprised her, but wasn’t strange. Her first night after returning from Prime’s ship, she’d stayed up all night talking to Scorpia, working through their problems, sharing their struggles, apologizing, so much apologizing. They hugged at the end of it, Catra actually sinking into her friend’s embrace. She vowed silently to never take Scorpia for granted again, then with a heavy sigh and great effort, she verbalized her promise. Scorpia had been her most staunch defender since, a role that Catra neither deserved nor particularly wanted in the face of Princesses she’d waged war against. Her anxiety spiked thinking of the two discussing her. “You talked to Scorpia about me?” She feigned nonchalance. 

“More like, Scorpia talked to me about you.” 

"Why?" The question had no bite. 

"She asked why I was avoiding you."

"So, what did you tell her?"

Adora fixed Catra in a gaze before chewing on the inside of her cheek, calculating her words. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say. How I’m supposed to start."

"You’re in luck. You don’t have to start. I know what I want to say." Adora just stared at her dumbly. "I'm sorry."

Adora tilted her head still confused. "You’ve already apologized."

"Yeah, to the Alliance, to Sparkles and Flipper and Scorpia and that little ice girl. She’s still so upset about Princess Prom."

"Well, you did kind of ruin it."

Catra chuckled. "But I haven't apologized to you. I'm sorry, Adora. For kidnapping you. Stealing the sword. Fighting you. Not listening to you about the portal..." She paused, already exhausted with a list that couldn’t even begin to summarize all the crimes she committed against the only person she’d ever loved. “How do you say sorry for a million things you’ll never be able to make up for?”

Adora blinked, and the smile she gave was quiet as a whisper. “I guess you just keep trying.” After they shared a moment listening to the fire’s crackle, she continued. "I'm sorry too."

Catra had the audacity to scoff. "What for?"

Adora turned to face Catra. "I didn't just say it because I was dangling off a cliff. I never wanted to make you feel… like a sidekick or anything like that. I wasn’t always a good friend."

“I don’t exactly have much moral high ground where being a good friend is concerned.”  

“Maybe,” Catra thought she saw the start of hesitation on Adora’s face, but it quickly melted away. “We could try again?” Only Adora could make a question feel unassuming and optimistic at the same time. 

Catra smirked at her. This felt fragile and fresh, like any deviation could leave this little thing they’d built by the fire as shattered as the sword’s blade. Still, trying was all she’d done since she got here. “If you’re trying, I’m trying, Princess.” 

~~

When Adora went to pack up her bedroll the next morning, a small stick clattered onto the floor as she shook the blankets. She picked it up, recognizing her whittling project from the night before. She’d ended up leaving it by the fire in frustration over the ears. Catra was right; there was something off about them. Now, its ears were rounded, face narrower, eyes smaller. There was a note wrapped around it. In scrawled letters it read, “It told me it was a mouse.” 

Her hands closed around the note and she grinned, remembering the last time she’d found a mouse in her bed, also set there by Catra. So much had transpired between them, and Adora hadn’t thought she could ever get that relationship back, wasn’t even sure if she wanted to. But it gave her hope that things were changing.