#it was a fully clothed hug but she smelled like mushrooms and sweat and he didnt appreciate it

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Karlach: you don't understand, Soldier, it's been a decade since I last experienced a friendly touch. I'm starving for it

Sivvus: a decade? Indeed. I last managed eight blessed years before my younger sister broke the streak by embracing me from behind without permission upon returning from a nine year sojourn to the Underdark of your Faerun for her research purposes. While I missed her to an adequate degree, I wish she had taken the time to bathe prior to enforcing her flesh upon mine.

Karlach: You're a special kind if bitch, aintcha Snobbus

Sivvus: *jaw flexes* quite.

[vannahfanfics]

RokuNami + “Queen Anne’s Lace.”

Hello, Anon! Thank you for requesting. Queen Anne’s Lace symbolizes sanctuary, which is a rather fitting topic, don’t you think? I hope you enjoy what I came up with! :D

Sanctuary

“No…” Roxas groaned as he tossed and turned violently in his bed, limbs tangled in the sheets that were damp with his sweat. His chest heaved with frantic breaths, his eyes scrunched tightly, and his mouth hung open in an agonized series of moans. “No, no…” he pleaded to the demons running rampant in his mind; he swatted the empty air in front of him, the thin sheen of sweat shining in the first rays of sunlight spilling in from the window. “No, please stop!” he screamed as he bolted upright in bed, his hand still outstretched toward something. The dream was already fading as he slowly became fully conscious, the nightmare fleeing into the recesses of his mind to haunt him once darkness fell again. 

He slumped back against his pillow with a heavy sigh. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms; they ached with phantom tears. He couldn’t even remember what he’d been crying about; he never did when he awoke with a shout, sweaty and breathless and afraid. He flopped his arms down on either side of him to stare listlessly up at the ceiling, watching the fan rotate slowly. The small breeze it generated wafted down onto his sweaty skin, cooling the salty water and subsequently his flushed skin. He grimaced at the gross feeling of the perspiration clinging to his skin and clumping his blond hair, but taking a shower was the last thing he wanted to do right now. 

He lolled his head to the window. The light of dawn was filtering in, golden rays and shadows playing across the wood of his bedroom floor. It spilled over the crumpled snack bags and discarded clothes and marbles strewn across the planks, slowly encroaching upon his bed. Dawn always chased his nightmares away; at this point, he’d probably seen as many sunrises as he had sunsets. What was one more? 

Grunting, he forced himself out of bed. Not bothering to change out of his pajamas, he just grabbed a hoodie and wriggled into it, then slipped on his sneakers, not even bothering with socks. He stopped outside the bathroom to check his reflection, prodding at the dark bags ringing his eyes and frowning at his disheveled state. Still, no one wandered about at the early hours of the morning, and at worst he’d be mistaken for a luckless vagabond. He shuffled out of the house into the cool morning, hands buried in his hoodie pockets, and started down the street. 

Normally, he’d trek to the clock tower to watch the sunrise. However, he found his feet traveling a different path. He knew of a small hill in the woods outside of town that overlooked a ridge, providing a lovely view of the horizon. He craved fresh air, the whistle of the leaves, and the smell of early morning dew— not the smoke and chug-chugging of the trams. Thus, he skirted around the business district, empty aside from the pigeons picking through the trash, to walk up the slope leading to the entrance to the woods. 

He lowered his hood as he stepped out of the alcove, smiling as the wind played with his disarrayed strands of dirty-blond hair. The leaves greeted him with shivering glee, deafening as they shook in the canopy. The birds were praising the dawn just like Roxas; the air was alive with birdsong like he’d never heard. The tunes of dozens of species melded into a harmonious melody of tweets, screeches, and warbles that was pleasant despite its chaos. He found himself smiling already as he walked along the well-worn dirt path snaking through the small woods. 

The dew deposited on the cotton of his pajama bottoms when he veered off the path to cut through the long grasses. He reached out on either side to skim his fingers over the swaying blades, relishing the cool droplets of water smearing over his fingers. He startled a squirrel sniffing curiously at a big brown mushroom; it skittered up the tree to peer down at him from the safety of the branches, tail and nose twitching. Aromatic wildflowers spilled pheromones into the air to waft up his nose, filling it with pleasant aromas. He wondered why he’d bothered with the clock tower all this time, when this had to be the most peaceful place on earth. 

He stopped when he heard gentle humming join the orchestra of whistling wind, singing birds, and quivering leaves. He cautiously edged over the crest of the hill to see someone sitting on the edge, her legs tucked underneath her and her back to him. Her platinum-blonde hair was messy and drawn up into a bun atop her head, baring her slim shoulders and neck to the sunrise. Her white dress hugged her fame, ending in little wisps of lace above her thighs. The clumps of Queen Anne’s Lace growing around her swayed gently in the wind to playfully kiss her skin and dress. Her arm moved in calculated movements, and though he couldn’t see what she was doing, he knew enough about Naminé to guess. 

“Drawing the sunrise?” he called and stepped onto the hill. She gasped and glanced over her shoulder at him, a faint pink blush on her pale cheeks. Her posture relaxed and she smiled as he approached, and when he looked down, he could see the bright magentas and oranges and yellows of the rising sun spilling over the page of her sketchbook. 

“That’s right,” she said as he flopped down beside her, stretching out his legs so his feet just barely hung over the edge of the bluff. “I usually get up early anyway, and that’s the best time to draw nature scenes, when the world is just waking up.” She flipped through the pages of her book, providing him glimpses of squirrels, birds, flowers, trees, mushrooms, and rocks. She then returned to her current sketch, adding more yellow with her colored pencil. “Why are you up this early, wandering around town in your pajamas?” 

“Nightmare,” he grunted, hunched over as he watched the bubbling semicircle of sun slowly inch over the horizon. He felt no need to lie. Naminé was such a gentle, nonjudgmental presence. Besides, he’d feel guilty lying to her. “Ain’t no use goin’ to sleep, so I figured I’d take a walk.” He sighed and hung his head. “The worst part is that I don’t even remember what the nightmares are about, so I don’t know how to get rid of them…” 

“I see,” she said, closing her sketchbook. Roxas felt his heart flutter; it was nice, knowing she was giving him her undivided attention. Her small hand slowly slid up onto his shoulder, a reassuring touch. “I understand.” Her hand skipped up to gently touch his cheek, her fingertips ever-so-light over his skin. It probably felt gross, layered with grime and sweat; yet Naminé stroked his skin like it was artwork, skimming over his cheekbone. Roxas leaned into her touch, her softness, her being that had always been so comforting to him. She didn’t even have to say anything. 

His cheek slid over her hand and down her arm as he found himself nestling his head against her shoulder. Naminé welcomed him, wrapping her arm around his head to tease her fingers through his messy blond hair. He inhaled deeply, and the scent of her flooded in, clean paper and vanilla and pencil shavings. The tension melted from his body as they sat in silence, the golden sunlight washing over them to chase the darkness that clung to them away. 

The darkness always came back when he least expected it, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to lock it away for good for a long time. But that was all right, because whenever he needed it most, he could find sanctuary in the rising sun, in the quiet peace of the woods— in the gentle comfort of Naminé.

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