#marigold (river)

[mechanicalchickens]

You know, I thought it was an unusual choice to start off the pilot with 2 minutes of a random Rocky monologue about rivers, but it all makes sense now! You’ve got to establish the Mississippi as a character. Everything begins, and ends, with the river. The waters of the Mississippi gave Lackadaisy its start (both by carving its limestone caves, and providing routes for smuggling), and they will also sweep it away.

[mercair]

HELP HER SURVIVE AGAINST THIS ABOMINABLE ADVERSARY!! Vote for her pls.

[sugas6thtooth]

🍉🤍❤️🖤💚

[chaoticbuggybitchboy]

Would you love my marigold corpse?

Would you love my body when I’m gone?

Would you love my memory post departure?

Will you love me when I haunt you mindlessly?

Will you love my marigold corpse?

So I’m thinking about digitalizing this and if I did I’d make the halo a marigold instead also yes this is on a green sticky note

[aisling-saoirse]

Wild Rice Marsh - September 17th 2023

[riverbeatsaber]

if you ever have the opportunity to just go out in the rain. especially if it's a sun shower. I 100% recommend it

all of my Finals Week worries are temporarily gone 👍 simply washed away by the rain 👍

[dansnaturepictures]

30/03/2023-Winchester and Lakeside Country Park

Photos I took today in this set are of: 1. Daffodils in Winchester. 2. Flowers in Winchester possibly common lungwort. 3. View of nice trees at Winchester Cathedral. 4. A beautiful female Blackbird which I shared precious intimate moments with in a shower as I ate lunch at Abbey Gardens. 5. A stunning Grey Wagtail on a roof by the River Itchen, making it a fourth day this month bringing my bridge camera to Winchester today was primarily because I’d had such a good run for seeing these birds in central Winchester’s riverine areas this month and I fancied a photo to show for it which was pleasing to get. They’re wonderful and flamboyant birds to see always. 6. A juvenile Mute Swan that gave me and a few others some joy at lunch time firstly the stunning immersive sight and sound of it flying along the river and landing and then as I saw with Mallard here last week notably this bulky bird being swept back quickly by a strong current. 7. My first cow parsley of the year seen along the road on the way to the station this morning and tonight, a pleasing find. 8. Marsh marigold at Abbey Gardens at lunch time another special and pretty flower for me to see for the first time this year. 9. Sky by Lakeside this morning. 10. Grey Squirrel seen near the Blackbird in Abbey Gardens. 

Other fresh flowers I saw for the first time this year or one of the first times in Winchester today was ivy-leaved toadflax and herb-Robert, with a variety of types of daffodil, hyacinth, snake’s-head fritillary and mercury other highlights. I was stunned to see a sea of snowflakes with primroses and blossom the other side of the river at lunch time with the snowflakes I saw yesterday by the entrance to Lakeside looking great again. Blossom, flowers on trees and yellow forsythia painting Winchester well today with the hopeful spring sight of birches gaining green in Winchester and at Lakeside. I loved seeing a big Buzzard well over Winchester today in a good week of birds of prey; with Great Crested Grebes, Mallards wallowing in mud in the northern fenced off area, Carrion Crow and Jackdaws going to roost in a tranquil bonus Lakeside walk on an inspiring light spring evening tonight where I was serenaded by Blackbird, Chiffchaff, Great Tit and Blue Tit with Blackbird and Blue Tit seen nicely too. I believe I saw some mayflies by the river.

[thesilmarilchick]

The War of the Dead - Chapter 11: The Halffoot Case

Murder, Murder in the Shire #Fanfiction #Fandom #FanartFriday

Arda, Middle-Earth, the Shire, Proudfoot Smial: T.A 2989, S.R. 1389; February 5th To say Hamfast shook as he peeled himself up from that bedroom floor, was like saying a leaf trembled in the wind. Of course, he shook, of course he trembled all over. The thoroughly dead hobbit, Faldo Proudfoot, had gotten up from his death-bed, thrown Hamfast into the opposing wall, and walked right out that…

[good-books-to-read]

Travel destination: Canada

The River by Peter Heller

A gripping tale of friendship tested by fire, white water and violence.

Wynn and Jack have been friends since freshman, Wynn is a gental giant while Jack is a bit more rugged, when they decide to canoe the Maskwa River in northern Canada, they anticipate long days of leisurely paddling and hanging out however a wildfire is fast approaching adding a sense of urgency and to add to it they hear a couple fighting and decide to warn them of approaching danger, however they couldn’t find them, the next day they see a man paddling alone, was it the same man? And if it was where was the woman gone?

City of the Lost by Kelley Armstrong

After a close call with her past detective Casey and her best friend decide to leave the city and head for a remote community in Canada of like minded people running from their own pasts.

However not everything is right in this small closed off town full of secrets and now a body.

The Dark Beneath the Ice by Amelinda Bérubé

Something is wrong with Marianne, it’s not her parents divorce, or that she quit dancing, it that she’s losing time, doing things she would never do, things are breaking around her and the only one who believes her is the local psychic daughter.

But not everything goes to plan.

The Marigold by Andrew F. Sullivan

In a near future Toronto surrounded by environmental chaos and unsettling new lifeform begins to grow beneath the surface feeding on the past.

Delicious Monsters by Liselle Sambury

A mind bending psychological thriller set in a mansion following two teenage girls 10 years apart.

As Brittney investigates the mansion in the present, Dasiy’s story runs parallel a decade before, both stories propelling the girls to face the most dangerous monsters, the ones that hide in plain sight.

[shironezuninja]

I think that even the 2005 cartoon, “The Batman” had a better promising animation style than Spectacular Spider-Man.

[hr-twink]

Doodle based on @peachessndreamss addition to this post🧡🧡

‘river has no hobbies…’ yeah ok. but have you considered baking? man was raised by his grandparents you don’t think Grandma Rose had him in that kitchen stirring away at batter? You don’t think he can make a succulent sponge cake? You don’t think he sits on the floor in front of the oven and waits for cakes to rise? You don’t think he bakes too many cookies and brings them into slough house and just lets everyone think Catherine brought them in?

[ataraxiaspainting]

Aria.

Yan Capitano x GN Reader.

Synopsis: You and Capitano used to clash when collision inevitably occurred, but now he stands alone atop a world where not even a single flower can bloom.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationship/kidnapping(?), and mind break(?).

Word Count: 500.

this concept was inspired by the song aria by jung jin woo! it's definitely one of my new favorites! <3 english lyrics here! <3

*~*~*~*

“Don’t you wish to leave your chair just for a moment?”

Capitano didn’t mean to make you flinch with his displeased tone, but you did anyhow. For what feels like all afternoon and well into the night, you had stayed essentially glued to a stool near one of the refreshment and appetizer tables. No matter who talked to you – to be fair, it was only Capitano and a servant of his asking if you were under the weather – you didn’t budge. You hadn’t eaten or drunk anything either, despite your chosen throne at this ball, your husband prepared for his political allies.

When consumed by fear, people often don’t consume until it passes.

For what felt like forever Capitano had kept on asking you for a dance. You kept declining his offer the only way you do now – by not doing anything at all like you were a statue or an unfinished replica of who you used to be. As bright as the marigolds that are present everywhere on Mondstadt’s lush plains, you smiled at everyone; including him. Sure it was out of mere politeness in his case, but it was certainly more than enough for him to fall so hard for you that he made a deal with your village elder just a few days later. You cried at first. Then hatred came. After that mellowed out because of your exhaustion from countless failed escape attempts, you look hollow.

Capitano misses the beautiful summer that balanced him out so well.

The warmth of the sun. The embrace of winds littered with flower petals.

You’re like him now – a scarred, broken shell of a human who only follows orders to survive; not that Capitano would ever hurt you.

Everyone has left aside from the cleanup staff and you two. 

Capitano still has his hand outstretched to you as he had offered it more than twenty times in the span of about eight hours.

“Is there…” He mutters, his voice almost being overshadowed by the sound of sweeping from just a few steps away. When he raises his other hand, the maid gets the quiet message and stops. “Is there… anything I can do to get you back? Back to how you were?”

“Apologize,” You respond at long last, your voice all haggard and cold. You didn’t use it very often anymore, after all. Aside from crying into your pillow, that is. “Apologize for what you did to me.”

“I…” Your husband’s voice is nearly identical to yours now but for different reasons. It has been a long time since he had to fight back against the urge to weep a river. “You know I can’t do that, [First].”

You smile. It isn’t a good smile at all. It isn’t similar to the one you gave him that fateful summer day at all. 

“I will continue to hate you then. Until my last breath.”

[intomusings]

ೀ ﹒﹒  favorite   names   compilation    !

ur   fav   musings   girly   again   here   with   the   first   of   my   christmas   goodies   .   my   favorite   thing   to   do   is   these   name   compilations   so   i   decided   to   create   another   masterlist   of   my   absolute   favorite   ones   (   some   old   ,   mostly   new   )   anyways   all   i   ask   is   that   if   u   found   this   useful   ,   u   like   or   reblog   to   show   ur   support   .   i   hope   everyone   is   enjoying   the   holiday   season   ♡

- a : abella, ardella, ares, aire, arden, ayla, arie, alder, august, aymes, atlas, alina, alora, aryn.

- b : beau, babette, belle, blake, briar, bronte, banks, boston, bishop.

- c : cassiel, clara, celeste, camden, chandler, collins, clay, cartier, chanel, cosima.

- d : dove, dream, danica, delaney, drue, denver, dacey, delcy, darcy, dahlia.

- e : elodie, emory, emrys, elio, elowynne, emerson, evie, edie, estoria, esme, effy, evans.

- f : flora, faye, fallon, ford, forbes, finnick.

- g : gaia, geles, greer, gensen.

- h : hera, hudson, hampton, heath, harlowe.

- i : isla, inara, ilia.

- j : juniper, josefine, jane, jovie, joey.

- k : kiersten, kairo, kaia, kian, kouvr, keanu.

- l : lysander, lanie, lorena, lawson, lux, ludo, lourdes.

- m : marla, marigold, maren, maeve, marlowe, miller, monet.

- n : neah, north, nola, nell, noel, nariah, niamh, nami.

- o : ozzy, orion.

- p : presley, posy, pearl, porter, pacey, paxon.

- r : reed, ruelle, raya, romey, ryker, rhode, reign, rafe, rohan, raiden, remi, rion, rhiannon, reece, river, raine, rumer, reem, rhys.

- s : selah, soraya, sarifya, savion, sloane, sol, soren, scout, saint, striker, serafina, sabina, sutter.

- t : teal, twila, tristan, tobie, tripp, teague, tate.

- v : vienna, vega, vera, vincenzo.

- w : wren, winter, winona, winnie, wilder, weston.

- x : xaverie, xylah, xiomara, xander.

- y : yves, yara.

- z : zephyr.

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

flower gore flower gore flower gore-

My main headcanon about the red court is that all the rhq aligned people's blood in Parabola looks like a liquid animated by studio ghibli. Denser, thicker, more fluid, and with a bit more surface tension than usual.

This of course applies to the Red Knight, with the only exception that if he gets wounded in the chest, he also bleeds thorns and petals.

[pawpiefawn]

𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

❤︎ alhaitham x reader 0.6k words cottagecore au reupload + edited from my previous blog.

your cottage, before you moved in, was a house.

your little red-brick house was something that you’d see from an english period movie, the imagery of little children frolicking and playing in the countryside — it almost seemed more so a prop piece for a show set rather than a cottage in the woods. juniper green ivy climbed the walls, sweet poppies and sunny marigolds sprouted from the earth to say hello – your land was cheerful.

you love collecting the flowers from your garden; they always seem to reappear as soon as you pluck them. the flowers are good, gently held and pressed in between pages of al-haitham's favourite novels as bookmarks – also cheerfully and playfully weaved into al-haitham's hair. seeing the blooms you picked always brought a smile onto his face.

the fresh stream that lives nearby is home to small fishes that travel with the currents – squint hard enough and perhaps you'd see arrietty waving from behind a river plant. the water – cool and sweet, bore witness to much of your laughter and splashing him each other on salty, sweltering summer days.

and your garden – oh, your garden. how blessed you are; a garden so colourful and fruitful. spring bears witness to the sweetest apricots and cherries ; summer says hello to sweet mangoes and fresh strawberries ; fall greets crisp apples and tart cranberries – and winter is the period of frantic churning and mixing of jam and compotes, all ready for the chilly winter to come.

your garden; home to herbs and vegetables that you grow to supply hearty meals to your table. the sweet radishes that are lovingly tended to in the autumn finds its way to harvest baskets . . . baskets that are sweetly put together as presents for your neighbours.

al-haitham always picks the best of each harvest to give away. there's something preciously sweet about it – perhaps you've rubbed your childlike kindness off onto your husband. the best we own should be given to others.

now, your cottage – home to sweet laughs that spill from your husband's mouth that you were always greedy for. his soft touches, a pleasant and constant reminder that i am here ; ever so fleeting of his warmth meeting yours.

a home so full of love and the sweet light of spring... a home of laughter, and warmth, and constant intimacy of tender kisses on your cheek and the resting of your forehead against his.

"good morning."

"hayi! good morning!" you find yourself squealing as al-haitham peppers your face with his sweet kisses, giggling as he kissed your reddened cheeks – then your forehead – then your nose – and your supple lips.

"mmmph." he rests his head against yours and leans in, soaking in your warmth.

how rare is it that he gets a morning with his sweet darling, all to yourself?

"what do you want for breakfast?"

you watch him, hands on his hip and peering into your fridge stocked full of food. it's almost comical how homely your husband is now as compared to his younger self – you stifle a small giggle.

"..."

"what?"

"nothing!"

"tell me." al-haitham turns to look at you.

"i said it's nothing!" a petulant whine slips past your lips. delightfully soft giggles fill the room as al-haitham makes his way over to you – a comfortable, light morning.

"tell me." your husband gently pokes your sides, playfully frustrated with your refusal to tell him what was so funny.

"it's just . . . you look so cute like this." you grin sweetly up at him.

"...like what?"

"like my husband!"

a soft silence fills the room – thoughtful contemplation as he takes in your endearing excitement – before al-haitham breaks out into rare, unbridled chuckles. you're too cute for him, he thinks. how did someone so seemingly opposite of him fall so deeply in love?

indeed, it's true – your cottage, so filled with love and the sweet light of spring, is a home.

[gingernut1314]

Little Game Pt. 2

Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader

Summary: Mihawk has found you once more after a month of hunting after you--a month of playing your little games. Found you in yet another poor excuse for a bar, except it seems you have forgotten all about your game. Forgotten and were dulling your usually sharp sense away with drink after drink. But Mihawk hasn't forgotten. Your game is still on and he plans on winning.

Tags: angst, fluff

Word Count: 4.9K

Setlist:

Emotions

I Wanted to Leave

A/N: I'm soooo sorry it's been such a long time! I'm in my last year of college and it's absolute hell on earth and the work is insane. Anyywway, there's no spice again, but I'm slowly getting there! I hope you all enjoy! 🩷

↞ to One Piece Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠ Part 1 | Part 3

Mihawk had traveled thousands of miles from his Marine-ravaged home. Had smuggled himself onto cargo ships and luxury vessels to get to island after island. Had begged to join the first pirate crew he could find so he might learn to sail and build his strength. Had begged on his knees, forehead bowed so low it had touched the ground with anger-fueled tears in his eyes to the first swordsman he could find to teach him the delicate art of the blade. 

Had begged on hand and knee to every swords master he came across to teach him. To help him draw closer and closer to that end goal he would do anything to achieve. 

He would become strong. Become the greatest swordsman the world had ever known and then he would lay waste to the Marines. He would spare them no mercy, just as they had spared his home no mercy. Just as they had spared his mother no mercy. 

It was a goal--no, a vow bound by blood and death herself that led him here to this small island. An island covered in ancient, towering trees. An island home to a secluded and unknown people. Home to the greatest swordsman of a long-ago era. A swordsmen who had lived 180 years and had never lost a fight. 

His yellow eyes scanned the dark wood he had been warned was full of monsters--devils waiting to tear any traveler brave enough to enter its thick, fog-filled brush. His last master had warned him many men had gone in looking for the great swordsman to learn from him, just as Mihawk, but they never reached his log cabin at its center. They had hardly stepped foot into the wood before its guardian attacked. 

Mihawk calmly stated he would be the first to make it. Would face this Guardian of the Wood and all its devilish monsters and win. He would find the great swordsman and prove to him he was worth his teachings.

The forest hardly looked dangerous. Especially when he spotted the yellow-gold petals of marigolds that he could see littered the leaf-covered floor. 

No monster in sight. No devil. No Guardian. 

Mihawk placed his hand over the hilt of his sword at his side and started into the dark forest. Had just passed a rather large bunch of marigolds when someone landed on the ground before him, having hopped down from their spot amongst the treetops. 

Mihawk scolded himself for not having spotted the figure, knowing he would have seen them had he not been so preoccupied thinking about devils. The tip of a naginata pressed into his chest.

“Are you a pirate?” The voice that came from the figure was silky and calm, yet held dark danger within its melody. It was a voice unlike any other Mihawk had heard and its wielder was just as rare. You looked like some wood nymph. Like the mystical yet deadly creatures Mihawk had heard sung on the lips of pirates and sailors alike come to life. 

“I am here for Rivers Achilles.” You frowned deeply, that sharp blade never leaving Mihawk's chest. He looked you over carefully. Looked over your well-trained stance, one only gained from practice and patience Mihawk knew all too well. Took in the fact you must be around Mihawk’s own age of fourteen. No. He could tell you were older. A year--maybe two. 

“Do all you pirates have a monthly meeting to discuss such originality?” Mihawk narrowed his eyes the slightest bit. Watched your eyes spark like you enjoyed his small reaction. 

“I do not have time to waste on some dirt-smug girl.” Mihawk saw you were hardly dirt smugged. You were pertinently clean as if you had washed before climbing up into that tree. He said it to snuff out that spark of enjoyment you had gotten from baiting his temper. An anger he was slowly training himself to wrangle away. “Now. Move before I move you.” 

You laughed. A small thing that grew into an all-out bellow. It was a laugh that matched your darkness. Your rareness. It had Mihawk blinking, as if stunned at its sound.

“You step another inch in my wood, pirate, and I will break your nose.” You threatened, that dangerous tone laying in the background of your voice pooling thick like venom to its forefront. It was--intoxicating to hear. A sound Mihawk wanted to drag from you again and again. 

“Are you the Guardian of the Wood?” Your shoulders rose and pride swelled in your eyes.

“If you have heard of me then you have heard of what I have done to many a pirate such as yourself. I make them disappear--vanish them from the face of the earth.” Mihawk watched you slowly. A slowness that sparked anger in your eyes. 

It was an anger that Mihawk knew too well. An anger that matched his own in intensity and fury like some twin flame. Someone had hurt you--had taken someone from you, just as those Marines had taken his mother. Had left you feeling so weak and empty it left that anger to fester and grow out of control in you, just as it had in him. It was an anger he wanted to lash out at. One he wanted to direct his own anger at. 

“I thought you would be--” He paused, letting his eyes roam over your body again in a bored manner. “--more.” That fiery anger flared brightly. Had your knuckles going white wrapped as tightly as they were around the staff of your naginata. “How disappointing to find you are just some feral, dirt-covered girl.” Oh yes--yes there it was. Such anger. Anger to match his own. Anger that would rival him like none other ever could.

Mihawk had hardly seen you move before you were bringing the staff of our naginata to ram into his nose. A sickening crunch sounded in Mihawk's ears as pain flared in his face, nearly blinding him. 

A pain that blinded him from seeing you move to kick him hard in the chest, sending him flying out of the woods and back onto the black sand of the beach he had just landed on near minutes ago. 

His anger flared then, but he could only blame himself. He had been distracted by your own anger. By your dangerous voice and your rare beauty. Stupid, idiotic distractions on his part. 

“A runt such as yourself should know his place.” You hissed as Mihawk shoved himself to his knees, wiping the blood from under his broken nose as he laid his yellow eyes on you once more. Found you had left the darkness of your wood and stopped before him looking like some vengeful goddess fallen straight from the heavens. “My father does not wish to waste his time training the likes of pirates. Weak pirates such as yourself, runt.” 

Your father was Rivers Achilles--yes, it made sense now. Your rarity made sense. Your strength and skill. Your father was no ordinary man, therefor his offspring would be just as inordinary--spectacular. 

“I am no runt and I am not weak. I will pass you. I will bow before Achilles and he will train me.” Mihawk declared, cold sea water spraying at his dark leather boot-covered feet. “Your little game will do nothing to stop me from becoming the greatest swordsman this world has ever seen.” 

That excited spark flashed in your icy eyes again. A spark that flickered and twirled with your anger. A wicked, cat-like grin crossed your face--a grin that was so stunning it nearly stole Mihawk's breath away--did steal it.

“Game on.” 

Mihawk had been tracking you for a month now. A month longer than he liked, but you never gave up the chase. Never slowed or stopped long enough for Mihawk to grab hold of you. All he ever saw of you was the trail of perfect chaos you left behind. 

He had followed you through the North, South, East, and West Blues. Had followed you into the Grand Line, full of all its dangers, and back, only to follow you right back into its mysterious waters. And just when he thought he had caught up to you, would have you within his grasp, you had disappeared like smoke between his fingers. 

Despite how long his pursuit of you had taken, he found it excited him. Had him looking forward to the coming dawn, something he had long ago started to dread. 

He assumed it was because you excited him--had always kept him on his toes. You were a rare woman. One that had always challenged him in skill and wit--that matched him as perfectly as one could match another. 

Part of him wished you would just give in. Come with him back to Kuraigana Island and let him indulge you in every luxury he had ever wanted to give you. It was a foolish wish, but one he held regardless. One he knew would never come true unless he won this little game of yours. 

A game you seemed to have forgotten for the night, because here you were, in another run-down, dirty, overcrowded bar on some backwater island in the Grand Line, drunk out of your mind. It was unlike you, to be this careless. Not when it came to your games--when Mihawk was playing them just as you had wanted. 

But there you were, downing the last of your beer, hardly grimacing at the taste as he knew you usually would, too drunk to even taste it. There you were, looking so--exhausted. It was an exhaustion Mihawk knew too well--that weight heavy on his shoulders as it seemed to do you. An exhaustion that had Mihawk pausing. Almost had him leaving this too-small bar and all its too-drunk inhabitants. 

Almost. 

A drunk man bumped into Mihawk with a slurred apology, but he hardly heard it. Hardly even felt the pathetic man running into him. Not when he was so close to you. Not when he was so close to winning the game you had started. 

“Why is it you continue to frequent such nightmarish establishments?” Mihawk's voice should have had you sobering up. Should have had you scrambling to escape back out to sea and leave him and this island far behind. But his voice--so smooth and calm and utterly bored had you tingling in excitement. 

You had missed his all-too-calm dementor. Had missed him, his face, and his stupid hat. 

On a small hiccup, you turned to look up into those piercing yellow-gold eyes you had missed the most. Eyes you wished you could look into forever.

With your thoughts fogged nicely thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol you had consumed, you had no embarrassment or strength for good decision-making when you placed your palm over top of his hard-earned abs. The warmth of his skin seeped into your freezing fingers as you ran them over his skin. 

“Mi-hic-hawk.” You purred up at the unamused man, all but fighting against your hiccups. You flashed him a sly grin. “How’d you find me?” You slurred horribly. 

“You are being sloppy.” You hummed as you brought your other hand to run along his skin, taking in his warmth and power that all but radiated off of him in dangerous waves.

“You always know just how to--hic-- sweet talk a girl.” You said, running your hands around his waist, where they disappeared under his dark jacket. Where they felt the equally as strong muscles lining his lower back. “Say something mean to me again, Mihawk. Pretty--hic--please.” 

Mihawk blinked down at you for a single moment before swiftly removing your hands from his body. You pouted, going to grab for him again, but he brushed you off once more. “Stop.” You whined pathetically, “You’re being mean.” 

“You asked me to mean,” Mihawk said the fact simply in that overly bored manner he hid behind. With a huff, you stopped your attempts at touching him and crossed your arms over your chest. 

“I didn’t say sh-hic-oo me away.” 

“You are drunk, Y/N.” You rolled your eyes dramatically, turning back around on the bar stool you sat on to find the bartender again. 

“And you’re not. It’s --hic-- boring.” You hissed as the bartender came over. “I will have your finest beer and my --hic-- best friend will have your oldest wine.” The woman’s eyes darted to Mihawk making you fix her with an icy glare. Her eyes looked a little too long in Mihawk's direction. Had looked over his face and body for too long. “Don’t look at him. I can only look at him.” She was quick to snap her eyes away, her face going pale in utter fear.

“Y-yes ma’am. We-we only have a red blend from a year ago.” You sighed.

“He will deal with it.” 

“Y/N, we are leaving,” Mihawk said as the woman rushed off. You gave another dramatic sigh, turning back to face him. Those yellow-gold eyes had never once left you and you couldn’t help but enjoy being in their sights. 

“Mihawk, we are--hic--not. I just ordered.” He continued to look unamused. Continued to fix you with his own sharp stare. One that never quite seemed to overpower your own. “Is it because I ordered you bad wine?” 

“Bad wine or not we are leaving.” You narrowed your eyes up at him. Narrowed them so sharp you willed them to cut him open. 

“It’s my--hic--day off. If you are going to be a party pooper then you should --hic-- leave.” It was the exact opposite of what you wanted him to do, but you had landed on this island to get drunk. So drunk you would hopefully wake up with dark spots in your memory.

“I will. With you.” He insisted. You rubbed your eyes roughly, that exhaustion you had come here to escape returning with a vengeance. 

“You are such an --hic--asshole.” 

“Poetic.” Mihawk monotoned. You hissed, yanking your hands away from your face and flinging them up in the air.

“I’m drunk, Mr. Smarty-Pants. Leave me be.” Your beer was placed before you and you were quick to scoop it up. The bad glass of wine went untouched by Mihawk. “Do you want to know --hic-- something?” You asked the bartender who hesitated. Hesitated and stayed after you fix her with your icy glare once more. “This--hic-- guy acts all tough but really --hic-- he wants to leave because all these people are making him--hic--itchy. He’d rather just sit on his pert little ass in the dark.” You said, a giggle leaving your lips. 

The bartender’s eyes darted back to Mihawk and you slammed your fist on the countertop, making the glasses rattle and the bartender nearly jump out of her skin. “I said don’t look at him.” You watched her chest heave up and down in fear as you took a long sip from your beer. “Talking about pert little asses. Mihawk once ran naked--”

“Enough, Y/N.” Mihawk all but commanded you, making you tense. It was a command you bristled at--made your anger begin to heat in your chest rather quickly. Too quick for you to grab hold of and control, especially when you were this drunk. “We’re leaving.” 

“Fuck you! Fuck you and fuck the Marines and --hic--fuck you again.” You hissed, standing from your stool only to nearly fall off it in the process. Mihawk stayed planted in his place, even when you ran into him during your oh-so-graceful fall. “You can’t tell me what to--hic--do.” 

“You are stumbling around like a no-good drunkard. Collect yourself.” You stomped your foot and pushed Mihawk with another hiss like some child. The swordsman hardly seemed to even feel your attack. A fact that had you seething and going to do it again, but he grabbed your wrists in a tight hold. “Enough.” He commanded again. You yanked against his grip but it stayed strong. 

“Let me go.” You hissed at him, yanking again. 

“We are leaving. Whether you do so on your own two feet or I carry you out makes no difference to me.” Your anger surged in your chest. Surged in defiance at his orders. You were not one to be ordered around. Especially by him. 

“You will unhand me this instant or I will--hic--break your nose.” Something flashed in Mihawk's golden eyes. Something--sad. A sad that called to your own sadness which had been welling and pooling within your chest for years now. Pooling to the point of near flooding. A flood you resorted to drinking to dam it up. 

Mihawk’s grip around your wrists fell, but he made no sign of leaving. Made no sign of moving a single muscle from his spot before you. Made no sign of giving up on his declaration of leaving this bar with you in tow.

In your drunken state, you thought this was a perfect opportunity to draw your black blade, which you had left uncovered at your hip. You swung, your muscles moving on near memory, at the frustrating swordsman before you, causing the bartender and a few people around you to scream out in fear. 

Mihawk sidestepped your attack and before you could blink, your sword was skillfully pulled from your grasp and you stumbled forward with a roar. “Give it--” Your words were cut off by a yelp as Mihawk grabbed you up in his strong arms, throwing you over his shoulder. 

Your right shoulder hit Yoru’s hilt painfully and you had to quickly throw your hands out to stop your face from colliding with the black blade strapped to his back. Mihawk wrapped an iron-like arm around your thighs to keep you in place before starting for the exit.

Your vision blurred from the sudden movement, but it didn’t stop you from pounding on Mihawk’s powerful back and kicking your feet as best you could in your weak attempt to escape. His hold on you never lessened, only seeming to tighten in your struggle. 

“Let me go, Mihawk!” You shouted, pulling yourself up enough to try to catch of glimpse of his face, only for his stupid hat to hit you in the face. You gave a frustrated little growl. “This is not fair! I’m drunk!”

“Drunk or not, you started the game. I plan on finishing it.” You huffed in frustration, punching his back once more to no avail. 

The bar fell away and soon you were being carried through the night-filled streets of the backwater village you had found. You continued to fight against his hold until your stomach stirred nauseously and your vision blurred to the point you could hardly see. 

With a pathetic moan, you let your body go limp against his back, your body bouncing with every graceful step he took. It only made your nausea grow, but you were too dizzy to do anything about it. 

“Tire yourself out?” Mihawk asked something like amusement finally filling his smooth voice. 

“I’m going to vomit all over your fancy little sword.” You murmured, making the man sigh deeply through his nose. 

“Are you serious?” You moaned, feeling bile rise in your throat. Your world spun and blurred around you as Mihawk dragged you off his shoulder, a movement that only had that bile rising sharply and your mouth filling with hot spit. You were placed on your feet, but your knees gave out with little warning. Tiny rocks dug into the flesh of your palms and into your kneecaps. 

You cursed, taking deep breaths of the chill night air, hoping to settle your upset stomach. Maybe you had overdone it on the drinks--but unfortunately for you, this is what you had set out to accomplish, and sober you knew she wouldn’t have to deal with all of this nastiness. 

You had just opened your mouth to relieve your aching stomach when strong hands collected your hair away from your face. Hands that held your hair in a manner so soft you hardly felt it. You vomited before you could think much more on whose hands were holding your hair up. 

“Why were you in that bar, Y/N?” Mihawk asked, voice low and so--gentle. As gentle as the man could make it seem. You huffed in and out deeply, catching your breath.

“Why do most people go to --hic -- bars? To get drunk.” You hissed as best you could between breaths. Bile rose in your throat and your stomach rolled once more. Gods--

“Yes,” He sighed, annoyed at your comment. “But you don’t go to bars to get drunk. Not when you are set on a task. Not ever.” You huffed a moan before throwing up once more. 

“I’ve changed.” You huff out, catching your breath once more. Mihawk was quiet behind you. A quiet that ate at you more than you wished to admit. Your vision blurred again. But it was a blur that had nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with the tears welling in your eyes. 

You had drunk too much. Way too much if it was bring you to tears. Tears you could do nothing about to control, not in the state you were currently in. Not when the man making you cry was behind you, holding your hair like there was nothing wrong between the two of you. Like you were back on your home island, stealing alcohol from your father and sneaking off to the only bar on the whole island. 

Your home. Your father. Your forest. All gone. Just like that in the blink of an eye. How had it happened? How had you let it happen? You had been your home's Guardian, just as your mother before you, and her mother before her. It had been your job, your responsibility to protect it from such dangers. 

It had been your life's purpose and you had failed. Failed and lived. Lived when you should have died protecting it.

“Y/N--” Mihawk started, but you swatted his hands away as you turned your body away from your puke. You buried your face in your hands to keep the swordsman from seeing your tears. From seeing your weakened and broken state. 

“Leave me be. Please.” You all but begged. Gods you were pathetic. So far from the proud and strong person you had once been in your youth. So old and angry and tired.

“I’ve seen you at your lowest. Some sick and a few drunken tears are hardly going to deter me.” He said on a sigh like you should have already known that. 

You pulled your face from your hands to glare at him where he knelt behind you. To tell him to leave on a venomous hiss--to throw insults his way, but his hand disappearing into his jacket pocket caught your eye. It reappears with a golden hair clip, diamonds sparkling in the lamp lights as he showed it to you. 

“That’s my--” You started in disbelief. 

“You forgot it on my ship when you left.” He said, handing it to you. You took in gently in your hands and before you could even begin to process everything, his hands were in your hair once more. He gently pulled and twisted it, mimicking how you had done your hair a million and one times before without so much as a thought of his ever-watchful gaze. His free hand plucked the golden clip from your hand and nestled it securely in your hair. 

He had kept it. Had not only kept it, but had kept it on his person. Kept it close and ready to use if you ever needed it once more. 

When he was done, you turned to stare bug-eyed up at him, tears still refusing to halt their endless fall. Calm. He was always so calm. A calm that frustrated you and grated on your nerves to no end, but was such a familiar, comforting presence. A presence you had yearned to be around more than you yearned to hunt down every last Marine you came across. 

Hesitantly, he reached for you. So hesitantly he gave you enough to slap him away, but you made no move to do so. Made no move to stop him as he brushed your tears away with his thumb. 

His touch sent your eyes watering all over again. His touch and his actions were so gentle and kind and so utterly unfair. So unfair because you couldn’t give in. Not now. Not for a long, long time. 

Gods how you wanted to give in. 

“I can’t--I can’t go with you.” You said in a low, grave tone. Mihawk brushed his thumb over your cheek once more before pulling away, making you feel that cold aloneness you had been trying to chase away with drink. He gave the slightest of nods. 

“I know.” He said just as lowly, his face seeming to harden further. You watched him grab your black blade, which he had placed on the ground beside him. He resheathed it at your side skillfully and reached for you again, grabbing you under your arms and lifting you to your feet. You swayed like a great gust of wind had blown into you, your drunkenness having yet to wear off. 

Mihawk hardly made a single sound before he was lifting you off the ground once more. Made no sound as he prompted you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. You did so without much thought, the action having been memorized by your body.

It was something the two of you had done many times over the years, whether it be you clinging to his back or front. Whether it be because you were too drunk or injured to walk, you would cling to him and he would hold you tight. It was something he had grumbled endlessly about the first few times you’d insisted upon it, but had slowly grown used to it to the point he would pick you up as such without your prompting. 

Your eyes catch his own briefly. Eyes so bright they were like the sun. A sun your soul begged to orbit one more, but your pride beat it down. Had you looking away and placing your cheek on his shoulder, taking his rose and expensive cologne scent deep into your nose so that you might hold on to it for that much longer.

Mihawk felt like a teenager again, holding you like this. It was--refreshing, though if anyone of importance saw him in such a way, there was sure to be trouble. But for now, in this small village in the middle of the Grand Line, he could get away with it. Could hold you close and keep your seemingly ever-cold body warm. 

He had marked where your ship was docked before he had ever docked his own, so finding it again was hardly a chore. 

Your ship was just a tab bit larger than his own, still designed for a single crew member to sail, but large enough for a much more spacious sleeping quarters and kitchen. That had been something you had complained about endlessly when having sailed with him on his own ship. 

He readjusted his hold on you so he might open the door that led to the inner workings of your ship. It was neat and tidy, just as his own was, though the walls covered in numbers and markings were unlike anything on his own ship. 

They were Marine branch numbers, ones you had come across during your journeys. Underneath each number were tally marks which he assumed represented how many ships you had destroyed flying those same numbered flags. The branches you had completely whipped off the face of the earth he found were crossed out. 

It was impressive how many Marines you had wielded your perfect chaos against. Impressive and worrisome because he knew as the number grew, the more you would be noticed. And the more you are noticed, the more likely it was they would send another one of the Warlords to slaughter you. 

Garp had warned him of this the last time they spoke. Had commanded Mihawk to get you under control or you would be spared no mercy. It was Mihawk's first and final warning to stop you before you got yourself killed. 

And as much as Mihawk wanted to take you away to his new home, to keep you out of the prying eye of every last Marine and pirate that sailed the seas, he knew he needed to wait. To play your game and win it, or there would be no victory. No having you back by his side. 

You had fallen asleep sometime during the walk, so you made no fuss as Mihawk placed you in bed. You merely grumbled something in your sleeping state as he pulled your boots off and took your sword from your side, propping it against the wall.

He watched you for a long moment. Watched your softened features as you slept. 

So rare. You were too rare to let go. To give up on and allow to die. You were Mihawk’s twin flame. A flame he would fight and die for if given the chance. You were the only person alive he would truly bend to. 

And bend he did by letting you go. By playing your little game. A game he vowed to win the right way.

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