#oh and one more thing. the cat in the green scarf on the first drawing still has no name ..

[iwakuraz]

oh here are some mindless doodles I did last night

[shiori8]

Oh look! It's another redesign!

Here, have this little illustration based on my Ladybug/Chat Noir re-designs, that I've been slaving away at for the past month (we're just gonna ignore the fact that I started plotting out the costumes and sketched the pose a year ago lol). I know, I know. A redesign? Very original. But hey I haven't done it yet, so that makes it different ok😝!

(Gosh, I usually don't post sketches, I feel like this is exposing all my drawing weaknesses lol)

These are some of the first doodles I did. For Marinette I basically looked at some traditional Qui Pao and Hanfu dresses for inspiration and mixed and matched details I liked. I also gave her these little skirt flaps (?? whatever you want to call it) to symbolise the ladybug wings and kept the spots concentrated there. All in all I actually immediately knew what I wanted to do with her costume and pretty much just kept to my first draft, but what really gave me trouble was the hair somehow. I really wanted to incorporate actual antennae (I just think it's cute🤧!!!!) but it got too crowded up there so I had to let them go eventually🥺. In the end I settled for her twin tails pulled up instead of down. To make it look more distinct from her civilian form the idea was also that her hair colour changes to black after the transformation.

Chat Noir on the other hand was so difficult😭😭😭. I honestly like the original design soo much it was hard to think about alternatives. I wanted something that matched better with my new Ladybug, but I don't think I succeeded much. Also I hyperfocused on giving him this little scarf/oversized collar thing in my first doodles because I thought it looked cool and ended up scrapping it because the little bell is just too iconic not to keep lol. As you can tell from the final illustration there is actually not all that much that made it into the final version, except for the sheer sleeves, the shoes, the claw marks and some neon green details. I also ended up giving both of them some gold accents to make them match a bit more. As with Marinette, the idea is that Adrien's hair changes colour a bit after transforming too. So I envision Adrien having more of the smooth platinum blond in his civillian form and a more brown-ish dirty blond as Chat Noir, to go for the whole stray cat look lol.

I might come back to this one day, to re-do their civilian forms too or make these costumes more practical rather than just focusing on aesthetics (But hey if the show does this than I am allowed too😂!)

[foodandfolklore]

The Grimm Variations, Episode 2

A new Netflix Anime has caught my eye. It's Called the Grimm Variations; which feature retellings of Original Brothers Grimm fairytales. But rather be a beat for beat, they are more reimagined. A "What If" kind of thing. I figured I'd share the original Fairytales these stories are based on for those interested.

The second Episode is based on the Story of the Pied Piper. Which wasn't first created by the two Brothers Grimm (Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm) but was first a Pome by Robert Browning. However, it latter became a Brother's Grimm story when the Grimm Brothers added it to a published collection of stories. With Browning's Credit of course. Here is the Original Pome, translated into English.

The Pied Piper of Hamelin (Also Called the Children of Hamelin) Hamelin Town's in Brunswick, By famous Hanover city; The river Weser, deep and wide, Washes its wall on the southern side; A pleasanter spot you never spied; But, when begins my ditty, Almost five hundred years ago, To see the townsfolk suffer so From vermin, was a pity.

Rats! They fought the dogs and killed the cats, And bit the babies in the cradles, And ate the cheeses out of the vats. And licked the soup from the cook's own ladles, Split open the kegs of salted sprats, Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, And even spoiled the women's chats, By drowning their speaking With shrieking and squeaking In fifty different sharps and flats.

At last the people in a body To the Town Hall came flocking: "Tis clear," cried they, "our Mayor's a noddy; And as for our Corporation—shocking To think we buy gowns lined with ermine For dolts that can't or won't determine What's best to rid us of our vermin! You hope, because you're old and obese, To find in the furry civic robe ease? Rouse up, sirs! Give your brains a racking To find the remedy we're lacking, Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing! "At this the Mayor and Corporation Quaked with a mighty consternation.

An hour they sate in council, At length the Mayor broke silence: "For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell; I wish I were a mile hence! It's easy to bid one rack one's brain— I'm sure my poor head aches again, I've scratched it so, and all in vain Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap!" Just as he said this, what should hap At the chamber door but a gentle tap? "Bless us," cried the Mayor, "what's that?" (With the Corporation as he sat, Looking little though wondrous fat; Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister Than a too-long-opened oyster, Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous For a plate of turtle green and glutinous) "Only a scraping of shoes on the mat? Anything like the sound of a rat Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!"

"Come in!"—the Mayor cried, looking bigger: And in did come the strangest figure! His queer long coat from heel to head Was half of yellow and half of red, And he himself was tall and thin, With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin, But lips where smile went out and in; There was no guessing his kith and kin: And nobody could enough admire The tall man and his quaint attire. Quoth one: "It's as my great-grandsire, Starting up at the Trump of Doom's tone, Had walked this way from his painted tombstone!"

He advanced to the council-table: And, "Please your honours," said he, "I'm able, By means of a secret charm, to draw All creatures living beneath the sun, That creep or swim or fly or run, After me so as you never saw! And I chiefly use my charm On creatures that do people harm, The mole and toad and newt and viper; And people call me the Pied Piper." (And here they noticed round his neck A scarf of red and yellow stripe, To match with his coat of the self-same cheque;

And at the scarf's end hung a pipe; And his fingers they noticed were ever straying As if impatient to be playing Upon his pipe, as low it dangled Over his vesture so old-fangled.)

"Yet," said he, "poor Piper as I am, In Tartary I freed the Cham, Last June, from his huge swarms of gnats, I eased in Asia the Nizam Of a monstrous brood of vampyre-bats: And as for what your brain bewilders, If I can rid your town of rats Will you give me a thousand guilders?" "One? fifty thousand!"—was the exclamation Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.

Into the street the Piper stept, Smiling first a little smile, As if he knew what magic slept In his quiet pipe the while; Then, like a musical adept, To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled, And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled, Like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled; And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered, You heard as if an army muttered;

And the muttering grew to a grumbling; And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling; And out of the houses the rats came tumbling. Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, Brown rats, black rats, grey rats, tawny rats, Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, Cocking tails and pricking whiskers, Families by tens and dozens, Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives— Followed the Piper for their lives. From street to street he piped advancing, And step for step they followed dancing, Until they came to the river Weser Wherein all plunged and perished!— Save one who, stout as Julius Cæsar, Swam across and lived to carry (As he, the manuscript he cherished) To Rat-land home his commentary: Which was, "At the first shrill notes of the pipe, I heard a sound as of scraping tripe, And putting apples, wondrous ripe, Into a cider-press's gripe: And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards, And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards, And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks, And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks: And it seemed as if a voice (Sweeter far than by harp or by psalteryIs breathed) called out, 'Oh rats, rejoice! The world is grown to one vast drysaltery! So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon! 'And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon, All ready staved, like a great sun shone Glorious scarce an inch before me, Just as methought it said, 'Come, bore me!'— I found the Weser rolling o'er me."

You should have heard the Hamelin people Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple "Go," cried the Mayor, "and get long poles, Poke out the nests and block up the holes! Consult with carpenters and builders, And leave in our town not even a trace Of the rats!"—when suddenly up the face Of the Piper perked in the market-place, With a, "First, if you please, my thousand guilders!"

A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue; So did the Corporation too. For council dinners made rare havoc With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock; And half the money would replenish Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish. To pay this sum to a wandering fellow With a gipsy coat of red and yellow! "Beside," quoth the Mayor with a knowing wink, "Our business was done at the river's brink; We saw with our eyes the vermin sink, And what's dead can't come to life, I think. So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink From the duty of giving you something to drink, And a matter of money to put in your poke; But as for the guilders, what we spoke Of them, as you very well know, was in joke. Beside, our losses have made us thrifty. A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!"

The Piper's face fell, and he cried, "No trifling! I can't wait, beside! I've promised to visit by dinner-time Bagdad, and accept the prime Of the Head-Cook's pottage, all he's rich in, For having left, in the Caliph's kitchen, Of a nest of scorpions no survivor: With him I proved no bargain-driver, With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver! And folks who put me in a passion May find me pipe after another fashion."

"How?" cried the Mayor, "d' ye think I brook Being worse treated than a Cook? Insulted by a lazy ribald With idle pipe and vesture piebald? You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst, Blow your pipe there till you burst!"

Once more he stept into the street, And to his lips again Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane;

And ere he blew three notes

(such sweet Soft notes as yet musician's cunning Never gave the enraptured air)

There was a rustling, that seemed like a bustling Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling, Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering, And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering, Out came the children running. All the little boys and girls, With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls.

Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.

The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood As if they were changed into blocks of wood, Unable to move a step, or cry To the children merrily skipping by.— Could only follow with the eye That joyous crowd at the Piper's back. But how the Mayor was on the rack, And the wretched Council's bosoms beat, As the Piper turned from the High Street To where the Weser rolled its waters Right in the way of their sons and daughters! However he turned from South to West, And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, And after him the children pressed; Great was the joy in every breast." He never can cross that mighty top! He's forced to let the piping drop, And we shall see our children stop!" When, lo, as they reached the mountain-side, A wondrous portal opened wide, As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed; And the Piper advanced and the children followed, And when all were in to the very last, The door in the mountain side shut fast. Did I say, all? No; One was lame, And could not dance the whole of the way; And in after years, if you would blame His sadness, he was used to say,— "It's dull in our town since my playmates left! I can't forget that I'm bereft Of all the pleasant sights they see, Which the Piper also promised me. For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, Joining the town and just at hand,

Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew, And flowers put forth a fairer hue, And everything was strange and new; The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here, And their dogs outran our fallow deer, And honey-bees had lost their stings, And horses were born with eagles' wings; And just as I became assured My lame foot would be speedily cured, The music stopped and I stood still, And found myself outside the hill, Left alone against my will, To go now limping as before, And never hear of that country more!"

Alas, alas for Hamelin! There came into many a burgher's pate A text which says that Heaven's gate Opes to the rich at as easy rate As the needle's eye takes a camel in! The Mayor sent East, West, North, and South, To offer the Piper, by word of mouth, Wherever it was men's lot to find him, Silver and gold to his heart's content, If he'd only return the way he went, And bring the children behind him. But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavour, And Piper and dancers were gone for ever, They made a decree that lawyers never Should think their records dated dulyIf, after the day of the month and year, These words did not as well appear, "And so long after what happened here On the Twenty-second of July, Thirteen hundred and seventy-six: "And the better in memory to fix The place of the children's last retreat, They called it, the Pied Piper's Street— Where any one playing on pipe or tabor, Was sure for the future to lose his labour. Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern To shock with mirth a street so solemn; But opposite the place of the cavern They wrote the story on a column, And on the great church-window painted The same, to make the world acquainted How their children were stolen away, And there it stands to this very day. And I must not omit to say That in Transylvania there's a tribe Of alien people that ascribe The outlandish ways and dress On which their neighbours lay such stress, To their fathers and mothers having risen Out of some subterraneous prison Into which they were trepanned Long time ago in a mighty band Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land, But how or why, they don't understand.

So, Willy, let me and you be wipers Of scores out with all men—especially pipers! And, whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice, If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise!

[blueskittlesart]

Your thoughts on the phantom thief’s costumes?

oh this should be fun!! i included akechi and sumire also because i love talking so the more the better

joker: solid 9/10. easy to remember and draw which i appreciate. not a lot of color variation except for the red gloves, which i actually like ON HIM but i generally dislike the bright primary colored gloves as a common motif among all the thieves because i think it hinders most of their designs, with joker being the one exception.

ryuji: 8/10. harder to remember than joker's but i also don't draw him that much. again not much color variation but like. they're thieves. that's normal and makes sense. i love the metal spinal cord detailing on the back of his jacket!! my only real problem with it is the yellow gloves and red scarf. i think if the gloves HAD to be yellow then the scarf should have also been yellow to match, because since they're so similar in terms of saturation they end up fighting for attention.

ann: 0/10 god i hate this outfit. i literally cant stand it it's so god awful. the fact that they put a 16 year old girl in a skintight cat bodysuit with a boob window is one thing but like. they couldnt even make it look good. the pink gloves clash with the monotone red of the rest of the outfit. the boots are ugly and don't match the aesthetic of the catsuit. the zippers on the suit are clearly meant to add visual interest but just look stupid and impractical. NOT TO MENTION she breaks the theme of a primarily black outfit that (most of) the rest of them have going despite her codename being panther, a BLACK CAT??? why is it red. if i could kill the designers of this outift i would

yusuke: 6/10. would be infinitely better if it was a shirt and pants instead of a bodysuit. also the giant sleeves look stupid as hell <3 once again the bright blue gloves suck ass but at least they're SLIGHTLY brought in to the rest of the design with the blue stripes on the belt. honestly i think it would be better if they just ditched the gloves and made the belt stripes red to keep with the kitsune mask aesthetic but whatever. it could be way worse ig

makoto: 8/10. her mask is ugly let's get that out of the way first. sorry queen its the truth </3 aside from that i think she's got one of the better designs of the thieves. very cohesive aesthetic and it's almost exclusively black but doesn't lose detail (the silver metal accents help with this and are a very nice touch!) she's one of the few that doesn't suffer from the glove problem because her gloves are gray but if it were me i might have made them black. overall solid design

futaba: 7/10. one of the more practical designs which i think is cool! she's got arm and kneepads and pockets on her thighs which i think is very on-brand for a support character like her. she also keeps some aspects of her real-world fashion sense like her legwarmers and big platform shoes which is cool!! her color palette could be a liiiiitle bit more cohesive, she's got both gold and silver metal accents which throws me off a bit and the red of her goggle lenses ends up looking somewhat out of place with the rest of her green accents. she doesn't suffer from the glove problem though despite her gloves being bright neon green, i think because that same green is used just enough in other parts of her design that the gloves blend in more as an accent color.

haru: 10/10. my favorite design in the game BY FAR. she's got such a cool and cohesive aesthetic going. the pink accents are noticeable but don't overpower the black enough to make her look out of place with the other thieves, and the frilliness and puffiness of it also reminds me of her real-world fashion sense! she unfortunately is probably the biggest victim of the glove problem. the purple gloves absolutely destroy an otherwise beautiful color scheme and distract from all the beautiful details of her outfit because they just look SO out of place. i don't hate them enough to dock her points but if they were just. black. or pink even. then she would be completely perfect

pre-reveal akechi: 10/10. ok i laughed out loud when i first saw this because it looks fucking stupid and i recognize that objectively it looks fucking stupid. but from both a design and lore standpoint its. good. it is genuinely very good. it's got a cohesive color scheme and aesthetic which visually places him opposite joker--he is white with red and gold accents in direct contrast to joker's black with red and silver accents. certain aspects of his design seem to deliberately parallel joker's--the v-shaped buttons on his coat are an obvious imitation of the v-shaped accents on joker's waistcoat, the cuffs on his sleeves look just like joker's, the v-cut of his cape is reminiscent of the slit in the back of joker's coat, etc etc. even his gloves (which have to be spotlighted because ive done it for everyone else) are a parallel to joker's--white against red cuffs as opposed to red against black cuffs. from a design standpoint everything about this design is SCREAMING at you that akechi is a direct parallel of joker, and it's done very well imo. from a lore standpoint i can't help but wonder if he made these decisions deliberately, as some sort of challenge to joker or something, since he's the only character who mentions putting actual thought into their outfit.

post-reveal akechi: 3/10. i don't want to be mean but this was a huge downgrade. it's got some good things going for it--the mask is cool, and definitely better than the ugly shit he was wearing before, and the way certain aspects become almost corrupted, like the cape and belt, is a cool touch. however i think a lot of what i praised his pre-reveal design for made things difficult for the designers of this outfit. so much of white knight akechi seems deliberately designed to mirror joker, to be the white to joker's black. so when the designers had to do a dark version of akechi, they ended up backed into a corner, because simply turning akechi's old design black would leave him looking far too similar to joker, who, crucially, he is rejecting completely in order to attain this form in the first place. what the designers settled on was an evil candycane, which. well. i think we could maybe have done a little better. i think leaning into the prince thing might have helped--going from a prince of justice to a prince of darkness, keeping that aesthetic but twisting it into something more disney-villain-esque. at the very least he needs to not be wearing a striped bodysuit. please. im sympathetic to the problems the designers must have faced with this one but im SURE there's a solution that isn't a skintight purple monstrosity.

sumire: 5/10. sigh. this one is hard for me. because if i look at it objectively i think that her design is GOOD. like it's cohesive, it's pretty, the elements fit together, etc etc. but i can't get past the fact that they just straight up made her female joker. like the poor girl can't even get her own outfit. i know she's the love interest but COME ON can we give her a little more agency here PLEASE. the leotard is the only thing that feels definitively like HER because gymnastics and everything else just kind of feels like a genderbent joker cosplay to me. for every other character in this game their thief costume's aesthetic can be related somehow back to them as a character--their motivations, their innermost desires, their personality, SOMETHING. sumire just. gets none of that. she gets to be Joker's Girlfriend. and yeah maybe you could make the case that she like doesn't know who she is or whatever and that's why she defaults to him but it still feels CHEAP. she doesn't even get her own glove color. EVERY OTHER CHARACTER IN THE GAME has a uniquely ugly glove color except sumire who has to share with joker because she is his girlfriend. ugh

[thr-333]

Drastic Measures- Part 1

@daminette-december2019-2020 ​

~Inspiration~

*Emerges from my hole*: oh ho ho~ we have another month of inspiration on our hands!

Next

-------------------

Marinette steps through the portal immediately collapsing; she doesn't drop the transformation until she hears Chat drop down next to her. She calls the transformation of both the Horse and Ladybug miraculous, knowing Chat will close his eyes without her asking, Marinette does the same for him as he calls off his own.

They stay like that, panting on the rooftop. It’ll be sunrise soon, Marinette knows what she has to do.

“He’s moved,” She breaks the silence. Stating the obvious, they’ve known this for months.

“At least he wont be bothering Paris anymore,” Chat laughs, without any humor.

“But Gotham is so much worse,” Marinette groans, “We can’t keep doing this, not like we are, Spots on,”

Marinette stands letting the transformation wash over her while keeping her eyes shut, this will be easier to say without looking at him anyway.

“Chat Noir, hand over your miraculous,” Marinette recoils at the wounded sound he makes, “I have to leave Paris,”

“What? No! Claws out!” Marinette opens her eyes to see Chat, furious and with tears in his eyes, “I’m coming with you!”

She thought he would say that. Probably would have hurt if he didn’t.

“I can’t just ask you to leave your life, your friends,” Marinette chokes up, “Your family,”

“And what about you?!” Chat says with such heartbreaking sincerity, “Who will you be leaving behind!?”

“... Everyone,”

But she had put it off for too long. Hawkmoth slowed his attacks in Paris months ago, they thought he was giving up… then he attacked Gotham. The attacks in Paris stopped. The ones in Gotham were so much worse. She thought… she thought she could keep it up, jumping through a portal every time Gotham needed her. It was the best of both worlds. Her family and friends were safe and she could still defeat Hawkmoth. But nothing was ever that easy. Gotham needed her, completely, with undivided attention. Paris didn’t. Gotham needed Ladybug more than Paris needed Marinette.

“Not me,” Chat breaks Marinette from her thoughts, gently holding her shoulders, “I’m coming with you,”

She should argue. She planned to argue, every detail ever rebuttal. But she was weak. Marinette so desperately wanted him to come. To have someone, anyone there for her. No not anyone she wanted Chat by her side. Her partner through thick and thin. The one who would help her take down Hawkmoth. It was so unbelievably selfish. 

She wanted him with her more than she wanted him to live his life here.

“Chat you realize we can’t tell anyone,” They could make the connection, they would try to stop them, or worse, follow them. If they went to Gotham alone at least they wouldn't have a life outside of this, they could focus wholly on taking down Hawkmoth, and maybe finally succeed, “... we have to run away,”

“Bug a boo that's the fun part,” Chat teases, Marinette couldn't see how leaving her friends and family would be at all fun, “... sorry… I know you’re leaving a lot behind,”

“If you do this-”

“When I do this,” Marinette raises a brow at him, he does it right back.

“We should reveal our identities,”

“Oh no, what a shame,” Chat dramatically ‘faints’, “Damn that makes this so much harder,”

“You know what?” Marinette ‘thoughtfully’ taps her chin, “I can probably find a new Chat Noir,”

“No, no! Sorry,” Chat immediately stands back up, “That’s obviously not why I’m doing this,”

“I know kitty,” Marinette smiles, getting him to relax, “But you need to think this over, I’m… I’m going to go pack,”

“Don’t need to think it over,” Chat smirks, “Claws off!”

“Chat! NO!” Marinette yelps, chiding, before actually processing who it was standing before her, “Adrien?!”

“Uhh, you know me?” Adrien stands there so awkwardly Marinette just burst into laughter, “Ummm,”

“S-sorry it’s it’s just,” Marinette held her sides as she kept cracking up, “Spots off!”

Her transformation fell and at that moment Marinette couldn’t even manage to feel any anxiety at him finding out, the ‘o’ face he made was too priceless. Before she could even think of being nervous Adrien also bursts out laughing, the two ending up as wheezing messes on the rooftop. It took a long while and lots of giggling to calm down.

“Well at least I’m not leaving all my friends behind,” Marinette says to the sky, “That is if you still want to come?”

“Meet you here tomorrow Marinette,” Adrien stands up, offering a hand to Marinette, “Same time,”

“See you kitty,” Marinette waves as they part ways, for now. She had a lot she needed to do today.

Marinette doesn't sleep when she gets home. She searches deep in her draws for that special fabric she put aside. Flips through her sketchbook to find that perfect design she did once. Then gets to work making a pattern. It is well past sunrise by the time she is done. She’s late for school. It doesn't matter anymore.

Not running to class for once she makes sure her parents are free later that night. She’d like to spend all day with them, but Marinette wants to see her friends one last time. She stuffs her bag with all the presents she had made her friends for future birthdays. Might as well give them now. Lila smirks at her as she walks into class, Marinette would usually worry. It doesn't matter anymore.

“Hey girl, I was wondering, Lila said some-” Marinette cuts her off, handing Alya a pile of wrapped gifts.

“Hi, sorry I’ve been busy, kind of went into a design frenzy,” Marinette laughs sheepishly, “I was going to give them at your birthday, but I just couldn't wait,”

“Awe, girl this is amazing!” Alya holds up the jacket Marinette made a few months ago, she hugs Marinette tight, “See I told you, Lila, Marinette's just been busy!”

“Too busy to make me anything, I’m sure,” Lila says, teary eyed.

“Actually no,” Marinette smiles, enjoying the utterly shocked look.

“I made this to welcome you to the class, but then you went to Achu,” Marinette places it down with open hostility, “And, well, there wasn't really an opportunity after that,”

After that Lila has a hard time trying to twist it against her. Even the complaints that the bandanna is so much smaller than everyone else's gifts is weak as it has beautiful embroidery of a fox and ladybug, everyone cooing over how sweet and personal the design is. Back when Marinette actually believed her lie that they could start over and be friends. It also was hard to turn anyone against Marinette as she handed out presents to anyone that walked through the door. Laughing and apologizing for her absence lately, claiming the whole time she was making things for them.

When Adrien came to class they both tried to stifle their laughter. Marinette only gave him one thing, so as not to be suspicious. It would help to have all new clothes when they ran away, she would give the rest to him then. It was a scarf, one she made a while ago with the new addition of a green cat paw in the corner.

Marinette, for all intents and purposes, felt wonderful for the rest of the day. She caught up with her friends, felt closer to them than she had in a while actually. They talked and laughed, Marinette for once not encouraging them to keep quiet, joking along with them, and taking a million pictures. Madame bustier didn't complain much, after all, she had an all-new makeup bag plus more.

It was fun. And the ‘see you tomorrow’ was hollow.

Marinette was dreading going back home. She asked for a special dinner that night, saying she had a special surprise to show them. And special it was, Marinette had made a new dress for her Maman, a more casual version of her wedding dress, with a special Marinette flare, plus a matching outfit for her Papa. They smiled saying it was beautiful, just as they had with her very first design and everything she made since then. They ate together and played video games together.

Marinette asked to look at old photo albums and they spent the rest of the night pouring over them. If she slipped a few out to take with her, neither noticed.

“I love you both,” Marinette hugs them tight, imagining she’ll never see them again.

Even if they do defeat Hawkmoth, Marinette's not sure she’ll make it through the fight. She could be gone for years, or maybe never return to Paris. Marinette didn’t know if she’d ever see them again, this could be it.

“We love you too,” Her Maman smiles, cupping her cheek, “Now go to bed we don't want you to be late for school tomorrow,”

Sorry I will be

Marinette just nods, hugging them one last time before heading upstairs. She packs her bag, full of newly brought or made clothes, clothes for Adrien, food, and whatever cash she had on hand. She leaves a note, saying there's something she has to do, that she loves them both and this is in no way their fault, not to look for her but Marinette doubts they’ll listen. She grabs her bag and the miracle box, saying goodbye to her home and disappearing into the night with Tikki.

By the time she meets up with Adrien Marinette is a sobbing mess. They hug each other. Adrien's not crying but she can sense the deep sadness in him. Tikki hugs her too, getting Marinette to calm down.

“So what’s the plan?”

“Go to Gotham,” Marinette shrugs, that was really the extent of it.

“We have nowhere to go,” Chat hums, trying to act nonchalant about everything, 

“I guess this means we’re homeless,” Marinette shrugs again, she had really only planned this for herself, and none of that seemed like a concern.

“We can find an abandoned warehouse, set up shop,”

“Either way we’re going to be pretty busy,” Constantly on the run, either running from someone or running after someone.

“Well, you know what they say,” Chat smirks, “We’ll sleep when this bastard is taken down,”

“You know it,” Marinette smiles, genuinely this time, “Pound it?”

“Pound it,”

 ---

 “After last week we can indeed confirm these attacks are occurring,”

“Oh sure it wasn't like I told you a month ago,” Jason scoffs, getting glared at by Bruce for interrupting.

“Well you have to admit ‘this guy came and destroyed ten blocks’ is pretty unbelievable when everything’s unscratched,” Tim continues to tap away at his computer, “And now we know the cause,”

The footage was shakily taken from the next building over, partly destroyed. With a bright light everything was fixed.

“Magic,” Dick says needlessly.

“Meta humans,” Batman growls, “Not approved and playing at being heroes,”

“Can we really complain if they fix everything after a fight?” Duke speaks up, “The police didn't even report any casualties, they don’t seem to be rookies,”

“Magic makes them reckless,” Batman shuts the argument down, “More so if they can fix everything, what happens when they can’t?”

“So basically you want them out,” Damian cuts in, there was no point arguing over it for however long, Bruce wouldn't allow them to keep roaming the city.

“Yes,” Bruce fixes them all with a hard stare, making it clear this is an order, “When you come in contact tell them they are to leave or be removed,”

They all agreed. Damian wishes he didn’t have to waste his time worrying about some second rate wannabes thinking they could challenge Batman for the protection of Gotham. They couldn't. What did they have that Batman didn’t?

 ---

 A lot was the answer. 

Or this particular new villain. It didn’t make any sense, usually, first time villains were easier to deal with, but no, here Robin was watching as Batman fought a losing battle against them. It didn’t help that they were brainwashing civilians, turning them against the rest. Robin was given very specific instructions not to harm them. Hard when they had no such orders.

Robin barely processes that Batman is thrown through a building before the main villain is turning to him. At least he could use more drastic measures with the actual villain, unsheathing his sword Robin lunges. He trades a few blows, unfortunately doing less damage than the villain can do with a singular super powered punch. With super strength, magic and Gotham citizens being steadily taken over this was looking more like a Justice league threat by the second. Everytime the villains should be down for the count they got back up, Damian couldn't find their weakness.

Robin knows he took a wrong step as the villain doesn't rush forward to take advantage but shoots out a beam, the same one Damian had just watch turn a civilian against the rest of his family. And he has no leverage to dodge. This would be so much worse than the civilians, setting his strength against the others? Without concern for killing them? Would Damian remember?

“Watch out!” A wire wraps around Robin, yanking him out of the way. He falls at someone's feet the wire slipping away, he can hear it whirling above him. 

Damian sits up, looking to who grabbed him, ready to fight if necessary, and- Loses his breath.

She's standing over him protectively, a makeshift wire shield repelling the beams that had been causing them so much trouble with ease. Like it was second nature. She looks down at him and smiles so gently, without a hint of fear or worry. Promising she has everything under control.

There's something to be said of Batman's intimidating, steady nature. It can put people at ease in its own way and be even more effective at cutting down enemies with a glare. But this? This is warmth, assurance, a steady appearance more in line with Wonder Woman yet still completely it’s own.

“You alright?” She holds out a hand for him.

Damian snaps out of it taking her hand startling at how she actually lifts him up without any effort on his part.

“Chat you ready?”

“Ready my Lady!”

My lady? Who’s Chat?

His answer comes a second later as a spotted container comes crashing down, fracturing the street. In an instant, the wire wraps around the container a hundred times over.

“Now!” My Lady commands.

“Cataclysm!” Chat yells out, the container crumbles under his touch, wire moving in to constrict around the villain.

The villain thrashes, still being able to send out beams wildly and with their minions closing in. Chat breaks off to fend them all off while Robin tries to catch his breath, Batman still in the rubble of a building. My Lady can’t hold the villain back and fight at the same time. Damian struggles to stand up and help her.

“Lucky charm replay!” 

Robin cringes at the bright light then watches as another spotted object falls into her hands. It’s a bent tube she looks around for a few seconds before holding it up. Damian rushes forward as a beam races towards her and she makes no effort to dodge. She catches it with the tube sending it back to the villain, it hits them square in the chest with no effect. Lady nods to herself before doing the same with the next beam. This time robin watches as it misses the villain, grazing their ear and sending their ear peice flying off.

“Chat!”

“On it!” Chat Noir catches the earring from midair, calling cataclysm again turning it to dust.

Damian watches not willing to let his jaw drop as the hideous villain transforms into a normal civilian. It’s such an intriguing sight that Robin startles when something flies towards Chat Noir snatching a purple butterfly from the air and pulling it back to My Lady. A few seconds later a white butterfly is flying out a… yo yo?

“Bye bye little butterfly,” She waves the glowing white butterfly away.

That was so cute

“Who are you?” Batman demands having just recovered, motioning for them to circle around them.

“Uh, your welcome,” Chat Noir scoffs, helping the previous villain up.

“I am Ladybug, this is my partner Chat Noir,” Partner? “We’re the previous heroes of Paris,”

“Paris has no heroes,” Batman glares at them, civilians around them still closing in Robin turns his defenses towards them.

“Then that makes the past what six? Seven? Years really awkward,” Chat Noir looks at Ladybug who shrugs, a civilian takes a swing at her she dodges smoothly before throwing the pipe in the air.

“Miraculous Ladybug!” Now Robin's jaw does drop as a thousand glowing ladybugs swarm around the nearby buildings, maybe all of Gotham not even leaving a scratch behind.

“Why are you in Gotham now then?” Batman recovers first, civilians nearby blinking back into reality.

“Hawkmoth has moved his operations to Gotham to feed off the negative emotions here,” well there’s plenty of that here “It makes his Akuma more powerful and we can no longer continue to operate from Paris,”

“Then he’s in Gotham now and is my problem,” our problem “I can handle this,”

“Well you did a great job of that,” Chat Noir rolls his eyes, leaning on his staff, “How's your back by the way?”

“Chat Noir,”  Ladybug scowls, then turns to Batman, “You can’t and it’s my responsibility as Ladybug and as guardian of the miraculous,”

“What's that-”

Nightwing is interrupted by a beeping from Chat Noir's ring.

“It would be that, we have to go now,” Chat Noir salutes moving to leave, they tighten their circle surrounding them.

“You will leave Gotham,” Batman demands, this time its Ladybugs turn to glare she tsks and rounds on him, not managing to seem that threatening in her brightly colored costume.

“You don’t know who Hawkmoth is, you don’t know what Akuma are, you don't know about the miraculous, you have no clue about the guardians, you hadn't heard of whats been happening in Paris for years and you don’t know who we are or what we’ve done,” Batman is shocked under the forces of the heroine's righteous fury, “There are things going on here that you don't understand, we are here to stay until hawkmoth is defeated,”

Robin watches as she leaves a shell shocked Batman behind dissapering into Gotham’s night with her partner.

Inspiring

 —-

 “And why can’t they be in Gotham?” Damian demands from him yet again.

“No metahumans,” Bruce sighs, Damian had been unreasonably stubborn on this front, “They only cause more damage,”

“Actually they repaired a lot,” Damian leans over the desk to glare over that him, “And saved you,”

“Go to bed,” Bruce demands, Alfred busy patching up his wounds. Damian scoffs before storming out of the cave, still half in his robin uniform, “Whats wrong with him?”

“I couldn’t say, master Bruce,” Usually for Alfred that meant he knew exactly what was going on. He tied the final bandage before holding the phone out, “There's a call for you,”

Bruce shrugs on his shirt before answering. It wasn't the phone reserved for business so at least it wouldn't be that big a pain in the neck.

“Bruce,”

Never mind

“Talia,” Bruce growls, going to glare at Alfred who had already made himself scarce, “What do you want?”

“Oh please I’m not up to anything sinister,” Bruce can just imagine her waving him off with a smirk, “This time,”

“But you still want something,” Bruce acknowledged, sinister or not she can cause a lot more trouble without being out too.

“A missing person case, a friend of mine got in touch, her daughter ran away yesterday, l thought it would be right up your alley,”

“Why would you tell me this,” There was obviously more to this, there always was with Talia, “And more importantly why do you care,”

“Oh because she’s Sabine's daughter,” Bruce freezes, a million case files and reports flashing through his mind, none of which outlined a daughter let alone a family, “Surely you’ve heard of Sabine?”

“... We’re on the case,”

“Great, good luck~”

Now he has to worry about potentially one of the most dangerous assassins in the world on the loose. A shift in the shadows catches his eye before disappearing. Great. And now the whole family knew, or would soon.

---------------------

Taglist? nope don’t have one, horrible at keeping track of them sorry~

[let-the-dream-begin]

Hogmanay Hauntings Chapter 3 -- Future: M'annsachd

Chapter 2

Read on AO3

The longer Jamie sat in the darkness, drowning in his own sorrow, the more he was convinced that perhaps a third spirit was not coming. Both Claire and Faith had said it would, but it seemed to be taking longer than the time between Faith’s disappearance and Claire’s appearance. He began feeling around blindly to light his candle and drag himself back to bed, but then he froze.

Something was glowing behind him.

For a moment, he was afraid to look. His child, born and gone years ago, had been the one to show him his past. His wife, she who still carried his heart showed him their present. So who was there, waiting for him now…?

He slowly turned around, trembling only slightly.

A child stood there, fiery hair tied back and yet uncontainable, donning strange looking, stiff blue trousers and a buttoned wool shirt that resembled a tartan pattern. He recognized the child immediately, older than Jamie had just seen, but the same bairn nonetheless.

“Hi, Da.”

For the third time that night, Jamie had the wind knocked out of him.

“It...is you then?” he said softly. “My...my child?”

“Yup.” The child gave a curt nod. “My sister is of the past, Mama is still your present, but me, I’m your future. So here I am.”

Jamie swallowed thickly, chuckling through his blur of tears. What a confident, bold wee thing. Not at all like the timid sweetness of Faith, but there was a graceful gentleness beneath the surface.

“I...dinna suppose ye could tell me if ye’re a lass or a lad?”

“Nope.”

Jamie sighed sadly.

“Sorry, Da. Couldn’t if I tried. The Spirits took the choice away from me. I can’t even say the words.”

A chill ran down Jamie’s spine.

“The Ghost of Christmas, er, Hogmanay Future is creepy,” the child said with a shudder. “I hope you get something out of this, because I don’t wanna talk to him again.”

Despite the eeriness of the child’s words, Jamie laughed again. “Ye’ve got yer mother’s tongue, d’ye ken that?”

The child beamed. “Yeah, I know.”

Jamie realized he was still on his knees, but he thought perhaps to stay there, to remain at eye level with his child. His child. Not the child that had entered the world and left it without drawing breath, not the child that Claire had wept over, alone and broken. The child he had seen Claire holding, alive and smiling, the child that lived in his present.

And yet he or she was his future.

“Ready?”

“What’ll ye show me, then?” Jamie asked. “Yer sister showed me the family I lost, yer mother showed me what I could lose if I dinna change...what must I see in the future…?”

“Well I can’t explain it,” the child said with exasperation. “Let’s just go.”

He chuckled again, despite his fear and trepidation.

So bloody fiery.

“Will ye dangle something before my eyes like yer mam?”

“Nah. The spirits said I could hold your hand like Faith did.”

Jamie’s heart soared, and the child reached out a small, delicate hand. “Come on, Da.”

He eagerly took the hand out of sheer joy of touching his child, phantom touch or no, but not necessarily out of excitement to see what it was he had to be shown. The familiar fading away and roiling gut began, finished off by the world reforming around them once more. Their surroundings looked familiar, nearly identical to that Christmas morning that Claire had shown him just before. There were only slight differences in the parlor, and in the woman sitting on the sofa.

Claire’s hair was entirely different, even shorter, and the curls were gone. It was streaked with grey as well.

And she was still so sad.

The air itself seemed different this time, more stifling.

“This is our first Christmas without Daddy,” the child beside Jamie said softly, the softest his or her voice had been yet.

“Wi’out…?” Jamie looked down at the child, then back up at Claire. “He’s to die, then…?”

“Yeah.”

“I…” Jamie stammered, looking down at his bairn again. “I’m sorry, a chuisle…”

The child said nothing, just kept staring at Claire. Jamie noticed immediately that Claire’s sadness was not more magnified than it had been for the last Christmas he’d seen; she was exactly the same. Frank’s passing did not cause her grief, not the way one would think, anyway. It seemed to be just one more thing to add to the list of things weighing her down.

Clomping footsteps on a staircase jolted Jamie from his thoughts. It seemed to jolt Claire as well; she looked up from the mug she’d been staring at and straightened up. When the footsteps did not continue into the parlor, her brow furrowed. She set her mug on a small stable and stood up, leading the spirits that followed her without her knowledge into a hallway that led to the front door. Claire paused, her eyes widening.

There was a tall, lanky young person pulling boots over thick socks and under loose trousers, bundled in a mustard yellow coat, green scarf, and a hat, all layers hiding the length of hair that Jamie knew to be fiery red. Jamie almost sighed with relief; if his child had to lose the only father he or she had ever known, at least it hadn’t been until he or she was nearly grown.

“Where are you going…?”

Jamie almost wept at the sound of Claire’s voice. It was so small and timid. He’d never, never heard any such sound come from her mouth.

“Lenny’s.”

Jamie tried to decide based on pitch and timbre if his child was more male or female, but came up empty again. She could have been a fully grown young woman with a strong, husky voice, or he could have been a newly adolescent lad. It was impossible to tell.

“It’s...still morning. Joe and Gail told me two o’clock.” Claire crossed her arms over her stomach, hugging herself tightly.

“They told you two o’clock,” returned a biting voice, lacing up the boots. “Lenny told me I could come over whenever I wanted.”

“But it’s...Christmas morning,” Claire’s voice was losing strength with every sentence she uttered. “The...presents…”

“I haven’t believed in Santa in nine years, and I can open what you gave me whenever. They’ll still be there tonight.”

Claire swallowed thickly, her eyes glistening. “Ehm...okay…”

“I’ll see you later. Okay?” The young adult straightened, and Jamie finally took in how bloody tall he or she was, towering over Claire nearly as much as he himself did. “I’ll give you your gift when we do the exchange over there. I’ve got it.” He or she patted a coat pocket.

Claire nodded dumbly, lips flapping uselessly for a moment. “Are you...hungry…?”

A shrug. “I’ll grab something when I get there.”

“You don’t want...any of the cookies? Christmas cookies for breakfast, remember? And...hot chocolate…?”

The grown child looked like he or she felt a small, brief flash of guilt. “I’m sorry, Mama...I just...I don’t wanna be here right now. It’s…” Trembling hands stuffed into coat pockets. “It’s too sad.”

“Oh.” Claire’s throat bobbed, and she tightened her grip on her opposite elbows. “Ehm...okay. I...understand.”

“Do you?”

Claire blinked. “What…?” “Do you really understand?” It was a challenge; blue, cat-like eyes narrowed, chin jutted.

“What on Earth are you implying?”

“It kinda seems like this is just another holiday to you. You know full well it’s not. You remembered all the stuff you and I did, but none of the stuff Daddy used to do. Do you even know what that stuff is?”

“I…”

“You’re acting like you don’t even notice he’s gone!” The pale, freckled face turned red, voice raising. “And I’m trying to get out of this damn house because I’m choking on every single reminder, and I’m choking on you not even caring!”

“I care! Of course I care!” Claire’s voice broke, tears finally spilling over.

“Whatever.” The front door was heaved open. “I’m sorry I brought it up.” There was still heat and disdain in that voice, desperately trying to be dampened. “I’ll see you later. Okay?”

Claire opened her mouth, but she seemed to choke on the words, so she closed it again, nodding. “Okay.”

The front door shut, a bit too roughly, and Claire remained frozen in place, seemingly unable to move. She stared at the door for a long while after her child was gone, silent tears dripping down her cheeks.

And then she just turned, slowly making her way back to the couch she’d abandoned, sinking back into it with a sense of finality.

She did not weep, did not sob. Just picked her mug back up, even as silent tears continued to fall, picked up a small, odd looking box and pointed it at a larger, equally as odd looking box, bringing images and sounds to life. Jamie jumped at the sudden light and noise at first, then remembered what Claire had once said about motion pictures, deducing that perhaps they were now things that belonged in households as well.

“I know she loved Daddy,” Jamie’s spirit-child spoke for the first time in a long while, looking sadly at her mother staring blankly at the flashing images of light. “Even on this day, I knew. But I didn’t understand her behavior, and I wanted to hurt her.” The child sounded older, more mature than he or she had been in the cave. “Because she was hurting me. But I know she loved him.”

Claire roughly wiped her eyes and sniffled.

“But I also know she’ll always love you more.” Jamie’s heart twisted. “Even after all those years, she was still more devastated about losing you than she ever was about Daddy.”

Jamie could not stop himself; he walked over to the sofa and sat down beside her, painfully aware of how he was not really sitting beside her at all. He did not even see the strange contraption emitting light and noise; all he could see was light dancing on her too-pale skin and in her glittering, tearful eyes.

“Your puir heart never healed,” Jamie whispered, nearly inaudible, ghosting his hand over the strange shape of her hair, her cheek, her shoulder, feeling nothing beneath his touch.

“Neither did yours,” their child said, her voice feeling like a summer breeze on the back of his neck.

Jamie swallowed thickly, his entire body literally aching with the impossible-to-fulfill need to hold his wife.

“I thought...I thought she’d be happy…” His voice was hoarse. “I ken she grieved, aye, but she...so much time, now...and she never…”

“I certainly didn’t make it any easier,” the child said, slightly guilty, and yet laced with humor. “You really can’t blame me, though. I had no idea what I was talking about.”

Jamie’s lips quirked into a smile despite himself, despite the very image of pain right before him in his love.

“But,” the child went on, plopping down beside Jamie. “You were the love of her life, Da. It got harder and harder to pretend the more time went by. She never got over it. Not here, at least.”

Jamie’s brow furrowed, but he would not tear his eyes off of Claire. “What d’ye mean?”

“Come on.”

Jamie turned to see that his child was reaching for his hand. Jamie looked over his shoulder at Claire, unspoken protest on his lips.

“She’ll be okay, Da.” The child smiled, touching his hand. “You’ll see.”

Jamie whipped his head around to catch one final glimpse of the poor, broken woman his wife had become, his heart lurching as she melted away into nothingness. When the world reformed around them, they were not sitting on a sofa, but they were standing again in a glowing room. There was nothing familiar about this room; Jamie had certainly never been here before. Was this more of Claire’s future, or the child’s…? No, there was something familiar here; there was no electricity, no trace of any of those contraptions littering Claire’s twentieth century home.

The abrupt, loud sound of whooping cheers filled his ears, followed swiftly by a fiddle. That, too, was familiar; midnight had just stricken at a Hogmanay celebration. The room they stood in was empty; the celebrating occurring on the other side of a door. And then that door burst open, an entire gaggle of children pouring in.

“Me first! Me first!”

“Haud yer wheesht, Mandy! I’m older!”

“Well I’m older than you, Jem!”

“Doesna matter, Germain! Ladies first!”

“Grandda! Tell them! Tell them I go first!”

“Christ’s Cross!”

Jamie’s stomach flipped. That voice was quite familiar.

“Ye’re louder than the entire rest of the guests, ye wee heathens!”

Then there he was, himself. Jamie’s jaw fell slack; he was wearing a bloody kilt.

“This canna be real!” Jamie turned to his spirit-child. “Tartan is outlawed! Ye mean to tell me the bloody king will lift those restrictions?”

“No...he won’t,” the child said sneakily, smiling.

Before Jamie could demand more answers, the sound of French filled his ears, both from several of the children and one of the adults. Jamie whipped his head around to see a grown man and a small blonde hanging on one another, a gaggle of three children swarming their legs.

“Fergus…?” Jamie stepped closer. “And those are all his bairns…? Then whose are…?”

Before his thought could finish, another young man stumbled through the doorway, and Jamie’s heart stopped. There was simply no way that boy was not his son.

Jamie’s lips flapped uselessly for a moment as the young man joined the throng, the red headed little boy called Jem and the lass called Mandy flocking to him.

“That...that’s you, then…?” Jamie said, his head spinning. “Ye’re a lad…? And ye’ll...here…? Wi’ me?”

“Keep watching,” was all the spirit-child said.

More footsteps sounded from the doorway, and a young woman entered on the arm of a dark haired, green eyed man, sending Jamie spiraling again. There was no way she was not his daughter.

“Christ! Did yer mam carry twins?”

The spirit-child barked with laughter. “We’re not twins! But I’m not allowed to spoil anything, remember? So I can’t tell you.”

“Then what the devil…?”

Then all other thought ceased as she entered the room.

Yes, this was his time. She was dressed like the blonde woman, Fergus’s wife, he presumed, and like his daughter, no trace of her own time’s fashion. Her hair was loose again, long, curly, and free. She was smiling again, with no trace of that perpetual misery he’d seen only seconds ago. She was on the arm of a handsome man, who, upon hearing him speak, made Jamie’s nose wrinkle.

“Another bloody sassenach?”

The spirit-child laughed again.

Mandy and Jem began calling the young woman Mama, and Jamie’s heart soared to think those were his grandchildren, his blood. But could it even be possible? He’d sent Claire back with child, and his spirit-child had confirmed she’d only been carrying one. Could the spirits be showing him different possible outcomes? Perhaps the lass was Faith, and the lad was the one he’d sent away with Claire, and the spirits truly wanted Jamie to lose himself in a fantasy of perfect loveliness.

No...of course it couldn’t be possible. Claire thought he was dead. There was no way to tell her otherwise, despite all he’d seen tonight. This vision had to be fantasy and nothing more.

And yet as Jamie watched himself, his older self, come alive with light and open his arms to receive Claire...he didn’t give a damn.

She was lovely, radiant. She laughed into a kiss, and Jamie’s head felt lighter, like he was floating. They were both streaked with grey now, as was the man whose arm Claire had walked in on, and even Fergus was greying at the temples.

“Stop kissin’ Grannie!” one of the bairns blurted. “Ye promised presents at midnight, Grandda! It’s been at least two minutes!”

All of the adults burst into laughter, including Jamie and Claire as they broke apart of their public display of affection.

“Aye, alright, alright,” Grandda-Jamie placated, tucking Claire into his side. “Line up, weans, youngest to oldest.”

“What?!?”

The older ones all groaned, and the tiny ones clapped with glee. Jamie and Claire laughed again, their heads bowing into one another as they did. One by one, the grandparents handed each of the children boxes, and as they dispersed to tear them open, Jamie sat in a chair by the hearth, pulling Claire into his lap. The children squealed with glee and whooped with delight, waving about wooden swords or toy horses or wee dollies.

Jamie wanted to fall to his knees and weep. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. This entire brood of children had come from his and Claire’s bloodline, adopted or no. This was his family.

He did fall to his knees then.

“Tell me...tell me, a chuisle...is this true…? Will this truly be in my future…? My wife at my side again...my child…children...?”

“These are the shadows of things that may be,” the child said simply. “So...I couldn’t show you something impossible.”

Jamie’s stomach flipped, his heart lurching into his throat. “It’s possible then…? All of...this...?”

“Of course.”

He laughed, truly laughed, a full belly laugh. “Oh, Christ!”

He looked up again to see that three of the children were literally hanging on their grandfather, on himself, and fresh tears poured from his eyes. So much love in this room.

“But,” the spirit-child interrupted. “It all depends on you, Da.”

“On...on me…?” He turned his head to look at the spirit.

“Mhmm. Do you think Fergus will want to be here with all his kids if you don’t start treating him like a son?”

Jamie deflated slightly, shame burning him again.

“And do you think you’ll be sitting there with Mama if you let yourself waste away?”

He blinked, tears of a different kind stinging his eyes.

“This...isna certain.”

“It’s the future. Nothing is certain.”

Jamie exhaled with a shudder. “You...how are ye so articulate? Yer sister sounded nothing like that.”

His child giggled. “Faith will always be a baby.”

That shattered his heart in a way he didn’t think possible.

“I’m much older than I look, really. You can see me grown, right now, whichever one I am.” The child winked. “The spirits thought you’d rather talk to me like this. And I like it, too. I liked being this age. And I...I kinda like having to look up at you from down here. I can pretend I didn’t miss an entire life with you.”

His heart went out to his child, longing to press the little body to his chest just as desperately as he’d wished to with Faith. Then he surveyed the scene before him, shrieking children, laughing adults, drinking and clinging to one another, dancing. Christ, he hadn’t danced like that in years, laughed like that. To be that happy again...

“It...it canna be true,” Jamie said finally. “How...how could she come back to me…?”

His child said nothing.

“And...the kilt. It isna possible. I’m...I’m grateful to ye, to the spirits, fer allowing me to see such beauty. But I canna...I canna live thinking that I’ll have...this someday, only to no’ ever have it.” He gestured helplessly before him. “I’m content to believe that this is what Heaven will look like. Wi’ you,” he gestured to the young man, “and yer sister,” he gestured to the young woman, convinced she was Faith, “Yer brother, yer ma, and all yer children. This...this is what awaits me in the Eternal Kingdom. I understand now.”

He looked to his child for confirmation, but he or she merely shrugged, reaching for Jamie’s hand. “Whatever you say, Da.”

And then it was all gone.

When next Jamie opened his eyes, he was in the cave, illuminated by his child’s glowing presence. He was greeted with a sweet smile and a glint in those blue eyes that seemed beyond their years.

“Ye’ll...ye’ll leave me now?”

“Yeah, I have to.”

Jamie sighed shakily, taking a knee before his child. “It has been...an honor to meet ye, a chuisle.”

“Same to you.”

Jamie chuckled sadly. “Take care of yer mother.”

“I try.”

“And...dinna forget me. If it’s possible.” His voice broke.

“Don’t worry about that, Da.”

He waited for the child to elaborate, but an explanation did not come.

“I...I ken I’ve known ye such a short time...but I love ye wi’ all my heart. I have since the verra moment I knew yer mother was carrying ye.”

“I know, Da. I love you too, a lot.”

He breathed a teary laugh, his vision blurring. The child’s light began fading.

“You made my sister a promise, and you made Mama a promise. Do I get one?”

“Aye, mo chridhe, of course.”

“Promise me you won’t give up.”

Jamie swallowed thickly, tears spilling over. “Aye...I won’t. I promise...for you, for your ma...I won’t.”

“And for Fergus?”

Jamie bit back a sob. “Aye. For Fergus...for my son.”

A radiant smile, even as the light dimmed lower and lower. “Thanks, Da.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“G’bye, sweet wee lad.”

And there it was; without even thinking, he’d let it slip that he suspected this child was a boy.

His answer was a loud guffaw, followed by an undignified snort. “Goodbye, Da.”

And then he was gone.

I will name him Brian. After your father.

Jamie closed his eyes and breathed deeply, his mouth taut with pain.

My sweet wee laddie. My Brian.

All of a sudden, light flickered behind him, and his heart soared, thinking perhaps that one of his loves had returned to him. But it was only his candle. Something, or someone had lit it again.

He relaxed onto his haunches, thinking.

Christ, how long had it been? Was there still time?

Perhaps he could still make it, could find Fergus and lift the lad’s spirits, could find wee Maggie and tell her that he would be honored to accept her Hogmanay gift.

Now, man. Go now.

He leapt to his feet and yanked on his boots with a clumsiness he did not think himself capable of, then yanked his cloak over his head, concealing himself, just in case. He trekked through the woods, guided by moonlight, and when the sight of the house greeted him, his heart soared. There were swaths of people pouring out of the front door; the first footing was beginning, midnight had only just struck.

He quickened his pace, making for the back door so as to draw as little attention to himself as possible. He looked around aimlessly for a moment, and then made his way to the back stairs.

He needed to make things right with his son first.

He wound up the smaller staircase to the third floor, having seen the lad storm up there when Claire had shown him Hogmanay Present. He reached the shut door, and took a calming breath. He knocked.

“Come in.”

Jamie’s stomach flipped as he pushed the door open. Fergus was looking down, as if expecting one of the weans to enter with gifts, but his eyes raked up to Jamie’s face and lit up.

“Milord,” he said with surprise. “I thought you were not coming?”

“I...I wasna.” Jamie took a few hesitant steps into the room. “But I, uh...I’ve got some things to apologize for, laddie. Some things to make right.”

“Like what?”

Jamie cleared his throat, dropping his cloak and kneeling in front of Fergus where he sat on the bed. His beautiful blue eyes were wider than usual, firelight dancing in them.

If Claire can push through her grief and be strong for our child, I can do the same for our son.

“I’ve...I’ve no’ been good to ye, lad,” Jamie began, his voice already wavering. “I’ve been wretched, in fact. Ye...ye dinna deserve the...the husk of a man I’ve become.”

Fergus said nothing, just blinked at him.

“When I...When I said I loved ye like a son...I meant it, lad. And I’m sorry I’ve no’ been too great at showing ye.” He brought a trembling hand to cup a cheek that was no longer so little. “Christ...I’m so sorry. I...I ken ye miss her. I’ve been too busy drowning in my own pain and guilt that I havena cared to notice yours. And I’m sorry.”

Fergus’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and he unconsciously leaned into Jamie’s touch. “You never speak of her,” he said softly.

“Aye, I ken,” Jamie rasped, a tear rolling down his cheek. “And that isna fair to ye. She was...she is yer mam. Ye deserve to speak of her freely, to feel like she’s still here wi’ ye. I’ve robbed ye of that, and I’m sorry.”

Fergus nodded.

“D’ye...d’ye wish to speak of her now, laddie?”

A tear finally slipped out of Fergus’s eye, and he nodded.

“What…what d’ye miss most about her?”

Fergus sniffled again. “I miss her smile.”

“Aye, she was beautiful.”

“Aye.” Fergus nodded in agreement. “And I...I miss how she held me, at night. It is silly and childish — ”

“No, lad. It isna. No’ at all.” Jamie cupped his other cheek. “She was so tender, so full of love. She loved ye.”

“I know.” Another sniffle.

“And I...I love ye too. I never stopped, even if it felt like I did.” He tenderly brushed Fergus’ tears away with his thumbs, and Fergus abruptly threw his arms around Jamie’s neck.

“I love you too, Milord.”

Jamie wrapped his arms around the lad’s scrawny frame, cherishing every moment. How had he deprived the lad of this comfort? How had he deprived himself? He was so raw and bare that one ounce of affection could have broken him.

And, God, it did.

He fell apart so thoroughly and completely that the lad clung to him tighter, and then they were both crying.

My son. Our son.

After several minutes, there was a knock at the door, even though Jamie had left it ajar.

“Brother…?”

Jamie gave Fergus one final squeeze before releasing him and turning to see his sister, flanked by Maggie and Kitty.

“Happy Hogmanay, Janet.”

Jenny broke into a wide grin.

“Yer gift, Uncle Jamie!” Maggie squeaked.

“Aye, mo chridhe, why dinna ye fetch it?” Jamie said.

“And yer Da, and yer brothers and sister,” Jenny added as the lassies ran off, squealing.

Jenny shook her head and crossed the room, and Jamie stood up, fiercely folding his sister into him. Jenny let out an undignified yelp of surprise before giving in, wrapping her arms around his middle.

“Ye’re a wee bit late, brother.”

“Aye,” Jamie said hoarsely, kissing the crown of her head. “I am. And I am heart sorry.”

Jenny tensed a bit, perhaps sensing that Jamie was apologizing for more than just missing most of the party.

“I love ye, sister. Fiercely.”

He felt Jenny swallow. “I love you too, brother. Even though ye’re a great fool.”

Jamie chuckled wetly, pulling back to look her in the eye.

“What’s brought all this on…?” Jenny asked, her voice tinged with sympathy as she reached up to brush away the tears on her brother’s face.

“I was…reminded,” Jamie looked behind him at Fergus, then at Jenny, and then at the bairns that toppled back into the room, “how fleeting life is, how I havenae been cherishing it properly.”

“Nunkie! Nunkie!” Maggie squealed, tugging on his trousers. “Here!”

“I made one, and Maggie made the other,” Kitty added, twisting her skirt in her hands. 

Jamie took two uneven, sloppily knitted stockings into his hands and pressed them to his heart. “They’re bonny, lassies. Just like you both.” He pressed a fervent kiss to both of their foreheads, and they clung to each other with joy.

“Here, Uncle!” Wee Jamie chimed in, holding up a chunk of wood. “I carved this for ye. Da helped.”

As if on cue, Ian appeared in the doorway, likely struggling to keep up with his wee heathens.

“It’s a horse,” Wee Jamie went on.

“Aye, that it is,” Jamie said, examining it on all sides. “It’s braw, laddie. Thank ye.”

He kissed the lad’s head. Michael and Janet were too wee to make any such thing, so he just gathered them both, each in one arm, and kissed each of their wee cheeks.

“Happy New Year, Jamie,” Ian said.

“Happy New Year, a bhalaich.” Jamie stood and shook his hand, pulling him in for a tight embrace. Ian produced whisky and offered the bottle to Jamie, he took a healthy swig.

“To family,” Jamie called, looking around at the small brood. “To love.” Fergus got up off the bed and stood at his side. “And to life.”

Jamie was reminded of the brood he’d seen of the future, the brood that would never be, and his heart pained him. He did not know how real it was, any of it. He did not know if he’d truly been visited by his dead daughter, his wife and child that he’d sent away. He did not know the truth of any of the visions he’d seen.

But what was real, and true, was the son that he put an arm around, already far too tall for Jamie’s liking, and the tiny wee nieces that wrapped themselves around each of his legs, and the sister that reached down for one of her sweet toddlers.

True or no, those visions had given him something to hold onto, something almost resembling hope.

[blackdragonturds]

“Here” pt. 4!

Reader’s POV

Two hours later…

“ugh…What the hell happened?”

I sat up in my bed rubbing my pounding head. Erron was seated in the chair next to my bed but crawled onto my bed upon hearing me wake up. Sitting down next to me, he places his fingers on my wrist to check my pulse.

“Hey, are you…what the hell? There’s a black crescent moon on your forehead.”

“There is?”

He grabbed the small jeweled handheld mirror off the end table next to my bed to show me. True to his word, a small black jagged moon was on my forehead above my eyebrows in the center. It made me wonder how it got there. But…I kind of liked it. Placing the mirror down beside me, I finger comb through my hair.

“Shang must have done this. Are you doing all right?”

He had his mask off as I finally got to see what he really looked like. I felt something warm spread across my face but he smiled.

“At least you’re awake. I was well…”

“Hm?”

“Well…nevermind. Its not important. You hungry?”

“A little. Why?”

“Well, the Kahn told me to tell you that if you’re feeling peckish that you can join the banquet.”

“A…banquet? I’ve never attended a banquet before…what should I wear?”

Erron chuckled and got off my bed to present to me a gift box with a silk ribbon tied to it.

“The Kahn had his silk weavers make you something nice to wear for it. I don’t like to get all goody-goody with this kind of thing so here.”

I take the box from him, pulling off the ribbon. Inside was a beautifully knit silk scarf and a headpiece made of gold and silver, a delicate silver moon in the center.

“Its…wow…thank you.”

Erron fixes his hair as he reminded me,

“Also, since the Kahn wants you as his soothsayer, well…he would want you to show off your status to the royal court but it’s your choice. I’ll save you a seat at the dining hall.”

I rise from my bed and place my scarf around my shoulders.

“Where’s the dining hall?”

“Well, since you are of high status now you come with me. He did say he wants me to guard your life at all costs.”

“All right then.”

I put on my shoes as he loaded his pistols. The same ones he used to shoot off my restraints in the Outworld Market. I followed him out of my room and he asked me,

“I gotta know…what made you want to leave Earthrealm?”

“Well, you first.”

Erron sighed as he began in a somber tone,

“I left about a hundred or fifty so years ago. I felt that no one needed a guy like me. I didn’t score points with the ladies, I didn’t fit in anywhere, and I easily shot Jesse James in the dick in a high noon draw. I’ll never forget that.”

His warm brown eyes met mine as he asked,

“Now, what’s your story?”

I gulped as I told him,

“Well, I left because my home was invaded by now I assume Outworld. I remember these…men, with long sharp teeth and blades coming out of their arms. Most of them were bald and hideous-“

He cut me off with a question.

“Ah, stupid Tarkatans. They jump at the chance of invasion. So…what were your folks like?”

I thought for a moment thinking of what I should tell him,

“Well, I had a loving family…a baby sister, my little brother, and I was the oldest. We lived in a little cottage my dad built all by himself. I was an introverted kid and well…my parents died when Earthrealm was invaded. I was only five at the time, my brother was three and my baby sister was six months old.”

Erron asked gently,

“What of your parents?”

“They were loving and kind to all three of us. But those creatures slaughtered my family and kidnapped my baby sister. I was helpless because I was just little. I didn’t know what to do.”

Erron was quiet with his response.

“My father was a cruel son of a bitch. My mom hated me and I was beaten almost daily.”

I felt pity pinch me.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Well, It’s in the past and I wanna keep it there.”

“Okay. But I think you’re a nice guy Erron.”

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself. Mousey, a bit of a scaredy cat and a bit clueless but cool.”

His brutal honesty hurts but he’s right.

We approach a large wooden door as the sight of the dining hall came to view. Roasted cattle over an open fire, being rotated on a wooden pole, bowls of exotic fruits from Earthrealm and Outworld, a stuffed turkey, even some finger foods. I could smell exotic teas and what smelled like soups. Musicians bang on large drums as other musicians play various instruments. Dancers sway like leaves around the end of the room. Servants of multiple races served guests and court members eagerly as the smells and sounds made my stomach gurgle.

“Oh I’m so hungry! This looks delicious!” I squeal excitedly.

“Well, lemme show you to your seat.” Erron purred.

He led me to a fancy chair next to the end of the long table, and at the head of the table sat Kotal Kahn eating something pink and jiggly. I take my seat as Erron pulls a napkin off the table and laying it onto my lap.

“Thank you…”

Erron took his hat off setting it on the floor next to his chair. I tried to reach for an apple as the Kahn addressed me,

“Please, allow me.”

“Okay.”

He snapped his fingers as a servant came to his side. He ordered the man to take my plate and fill it with food. Erron waited his turn next to me, and soon, his plate came with ribs and some boiled potatoes. Mine had the same portion but a chilled apple with it

“Thank you Kahn.”

“My pleasure.” the emperor purred. As I ate, I could barely contain myself how delicious the food was. I saw D’Vorah across from me eating something like a pork chop and the same pink jiggly stuff the Kahn was eating. She was smiling feeding her slug creature.

The Kahn must be going through a lot to make me feel welcome…

I sipped my wine one of the servants poured for me as the Kahn rested his arm on the arm of his throne looking at me.

“Is the food adequate my dear?”

“Yes, it is thank you.”

“I’m sure you have many questions.”

I nodded putting my cup down.

“So if you’re the emperor of Outworld, why did you pick a slave to be a soothsayer? And what is a soothsayer?”

Koala Kahn sighed popping a few grapes into his mouth,

“Well, an indigo like you can easily feel things most mortals cannot. You perceive the world differently and you can have psychic visions. I figure you would be a great addition to my court.

It began to make sense now. he continued.

“If you were a sleigh beggy you would be an excellent mage.”

I asked cautiously,

“A sleigh beggy?”

Erron wiped his mouth and pointed to a girl with short red hair and beautiful green eyes. She was eating some ham and seemed to be chatting with a fellow mercenary.

“That’s the Kahn’s court wizard Robin.”

“She’s beautiful…” I mused.

Total Kahn agreed,

“Yes she is. Now you, you’re special. And that moon crest on your forehead?”

I touch my forehead as he went on.

“Is more proof you are worthy to serve me.”

**********

Thanks for reading!

[hermannsthumb]

"newt isn’t sleazy and is also too busy wrestling with the ethics of hitting on his hot TA if the guy is 5 months older than him to even notice" pleeeease write this

Anonymous asked: "When I Kissed the Teacher" AU ft professor newt and his hot 5-month-older TA hermann

and coincidentally, this older one

Anonymous asked: i just rewatched mamma mia 2 and was wondering if i could request a "when i kissed the teacher" newmann fic?? love your writing!!!!!!

Ask And Ye Shall Receive. sorry ive been MIA 😔 concept from this post I made earlier this month. idk what class newt teaches that hermann would be qualified to TA for but just like, decide for yourselves

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Newt’s never been a list-making kind of guy, or--for that matter--even really a planning ahead kind of guy, but certain circumstances have thrown his life more out of wack than usual lately, and he kind of needs the stability the like of things like lists offer. Desperate times and everything. Or, at the very least, Newt is desperate. 

So Newt plans, and plots, and deliberates, and he even agonizes a little, but most of all, he makes a list.

On one half of the page, he writes pros. On the other, he writes cons. On top, he writes--what else?--Hermann.

The problem started in late August. Newt knew for months he was going to be assigned a teaching assistant come that semester--it was him, after all, who’d suggested it to the dean in the first place--but the Hermann Gottlieb of extensive, impressive, overachieving CV and overly-former cover letter was a far cry from Hermann Gottlieb in the flesh. Newt expected a dork, frankly. Someone too socially awkward to feel brave enough to thank someone for holding a door open for him. He expected a PhD student so eager to please he’d cater to Newt’s every whim, whether it was grading horrendous freshman lab reports or fetching him a sandwich from the commissary between class sections. 

They met for the first time at the campus coffee shop. Hermann was dressed in an oversized pair of slacks, a threadbare green sweatervest, and honest-to-God saddle shoes; the buttons of his Oxford were done up all the way, from the collar to the cuffs, and an ornate cane was settled against his thigh. His haircut was tragic. “Dr. Geiszler,” he said, all clipped and English, and held his hand out to Newt. “Hermann Gottlieb. It is a great pleasure to meet you. I’m an admirer of your work.”

"Sup,” Newt said, and tried to bump their fists together.

Newt knew he was in deep shit then. It wasn’t just because Hermann was gorgeous (which he was, in a sort of weird, frumpy, ripped-outta-1945 way), or that the scowl he proceeded to level Newt with made his soul wither and his heart race a little bit too fast, but both of those things in conjunction with a big one: Newt was, and is, so fucking love-starved. It’s an unfortunate byproduct of being made a professor when he was as young as he was and completing a PhD before he completed puberty. His early twenties should’ve been spent dyeing his hair terrible colors and adding to his already impressive tattoo collection and having questionable hookups with other young twentysomethings; unfortunately, the only young twentysomethings Newt ever seems to come across are his students, and he has a very strict code of ethics. Not to mention it wasn’t like he was getting any action before that as a weird, gangly teenager with peers several years his senior. He was bound to latch onto the first genius hottie who crossed his path who wasn’t trying to flirt their way into bumping that B- to a B+. And better yet, Hermann is five whole months his senior!

The shit only got deeper when the semester started. No, Hermann was not the sort to fetch Newt sandwiches, or coffee, or Aspirin from his office, nor was he the sort to handle the dreaded lab reports (at least not unless Newt handled them with him), and he definitely wasn’t eager to please. Newt, anyway. If anything the opposite was true: he seemed to actively derive enjoyment from undermining Newt at every turn.

“Wrong,” he’d mutter during class if Newt screwed something up in a lecture, or “No, Geiszler, you’re doing it wrong again,” or “How in the blazes did you get three bloody PhDs when you can’t even do simple addition?” and snatch Newt’s dry erase marker away to scrawl his own answers on the whiteboard. It was less like having a TA and more like having...well, a bitchy, annoying co-teacher. Or, God help Newt, a colleague. And boy, did he wave those five months over Newt’s head like a fucking flag. Newt was immature; inexperienced; clearly not as serious about his studies--his completed studies--as Hermann. Meanwhile Newt’s class (bright young twenty somethings, taller than Newt, cooler than Newt, with more friends than Newt) would giggle and snicker, and Hermann would look smug.

It drove Newt fucking batty.

It also made him, like, super turned on.

The two can co-exist. Apparently. Hermann Gottlieb is already helping Newt discover new and existing concepts; what a fucking excellent TA he is. Someone give that man a raise.

So Newt draws up a list, and he writes Pros, and he writes Cons, and he writes Hermann. The pros are regrettably easy to come up with, because Hermann is Hermann, and (bitchiness and undermining of Newt aside) it’s unfair how many he has. Hot. Stupid sexy accent. Stupidly smart. This is crossed out and replaced with so smart he makes me feel stupid (in a good way), because it seems like an important distinction. Glasses on chain. Mysterious. (In a tall, dark, and handsome way. Sort of. Average height--which is tall to Newt, pale, and handsome. He still scowls more than he talks, which makes him feel mysterious. In a Bronte sort of way. Newt can picture Hermann drawing a billowing cloak around his shoulders and stalking some desolate moor in the moonlight, though in this case maybe’s more of a puffy parka than a cloak.) In tiniest font of all is makes me laugh, because Hermann does, goddamn it, with his snide asides and cutting remarks and sarcasm, often not even directed at Newt when it’s just the two of them alone in Newt’s office at night.

The placement of “is my TA” on the chart is acting as a particular annoyance to Newt, entirely on account of the fact that he can think of several pros and cons for that as well, and he’s not sure whether to nestle it between dark eyelashes and once called me a moron in front of my class and I got a hard-on or beneath sweaters smell like sweat and mothballs, has annoying tic of clearing throat when lost in thought, and the dick wins 86% of our arguments. Sexy forbidden fling. Abuse of power. Is older than me so it's not as weird as it could be? I’m his boss. The school’s paying Hermann though, not Newt, and it’s not like he’s going to scurry off to the dean and demand Hermann’s funding slashed if Hermann turns him down (which he’d most likely do). But it still feels like a breach of ethics.

On the other hand, Hermann is exactly the sort of guy he’d try to pick up at a bar if he still did things like that. (Tenure, rather than giving Newt breathing space to kick back and relax a little, has only increased his obsession with his work, and now when he gets a Friday night free to himself he mostly switches crap on the TV and falls asleep with his cat on the couch.) It’s about the experience, the impossible task of seducing someone who--by all accounts--is too straight-laced and tight-buttoned to indulge in something that debase. They were always the best in bed. Tension, Newt knows, has to snap at some point.

He’d like to wrap Hermann’s personal piano wire around his thumb and bang away at the keys until it snaps, too. Ethics, Newt thinks (folding up the list and stuffing it out of sight), his ass.

Newt sacrifices a Friday night with his cat and Unsolved Mysteries in favor of working on a solution to his Hermann Problem. Swamped with work, he tells Hermann over the phone, it fucking sucks, dude, I could really use your help in my office, and Hermann grumbles, and snaps that Newt should learn to be better prepared for his own damn classes, but declares he’ll be on campus in half an hour and that Newt will be ordering him takeaway for dinner as an apology.

The door swings open at half past five. Hermann is bundled in that heavy parka and scarf (which, even for a Boston November, still looks a little too warm), and his hair is damp. “Is it raining?” Newt says, perhaps stupidly, because there’s not a single droplet of water anywhere else on Hermann’s body.

Hermann makes a face at him and pushes the door shut with his cane. “No,” he says, tersely.

“Then why...” Newt touches his own hair.

“I was taking a bloody bath,” Hermann snaps. “I don’t work on Fridays, as you well know, Newton.”

The use of his full first name stings Newt oddly even as the notion of Hermann luxuriating in a bathtub excites him. “That’s Dr. Geiszler,” Newt snaps back, because goddamn it, he’s Hermann’s boss, he deserves respect, and then mentally adds a small, depressing tally to the Cons half of the board. Ethics, ethics. 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann says. He throws his scarf and coat viciously at the small couch in the corner of Newt’s office, then takes his usual seat across from Newt. “Well? Where are those papers it’s so crucial we grade?”

Hermann in a bathtub, Newt thinks. Hermann naked. Papers, Newt thinks. “Papers,” Newt says, and he shoves a stack at Hermann with twice as much force as he means to, causing several to flutter to the ground. “We need...to grade them,” he says. Hermann naked, in a bathtub, maybe some candles lit around him, some nice music on, daydreaming about that wretched professor he works for. Damn it. “I have a pen,” he says. “To grade.”

“What on earth are you saying?” Hermann says. “Be quiet. I can’t concentrate with your abominable prattling on.” Then he mumbles something that sounds like incessant, rips the top paper off the stack, and begins to slash at it in red ink. He doesn’t bother gathering the two from the ground.

Why did Newt invite him here, again?

Oh, right. He pushes his glasses up his nose and feigns casualness, pulling out another paper for himself to grade. “A bath,” he says. “Just to, uh, relax? Or...?”

Hermann narrows his eyes. “Or?”

Newt shrugs. “It’s Friday. Were you getting ready for a date or something?”

This time, Hermann’s mouth twists down into a frown. Almost suspicious. “Why do you care?” he says.

“I don’t,” Newt says quickly. “Just making small talk.” God, he could picture some stud of a computer science PhD candidate winning Hermann over with techno babble--or maybe one of his fellow students, ugh, maybe they made a study group together that meets Friday nights, and Hermann was getting all gussied up, goddamn handsome astrophysics grad students--

“I was relaxing,” Hermann says. “You must be aware at this point you cause me a great deal of stress, Dr. Geiszler, on a daily basis.”

“Oh,” Newt says.

He gives up on the small talk after that. Hermann’s promised takeout arrives--a small carton of pad thai--as does Newt’s--a large carton of the spiciest thing they had on the menu--and they eat in silence. They have about three-quarters of the papers to go when Hermann suddenly sits back in his seat with a groan and rubs at his eyes under his granny glasses. “Bugger,” he says. “I can’t fathom this one for the life of me. I’m too tired.”

“It’s getting kinda late,” Newt agrees. “Maybe we should--”

“It’s not that,” Hermann says. “I had a glass of wine earlier, and--oh, it doesn’t matter. Your students need to learn how to write in a way that’s actually bloody legible--it’s like chicken scratch.”

Newt hops up and leans over his shoulder, squinting down at the page. Hermann’s hair smells nice, like something floral, and his skin has a small hint of what could almost be cologne. Why is Hermann wearing cologne? “Okay, let me see it,” Newt says, struggling to keep from getting lightheaded at the close proximity to Hermann. “I’m used to that kind of shit.”

“No,” Hermann says, drawing the paper close to his chest. “I am perfectly capable of managing it on my own.”

“Dude,” Newt says, “let me look at it, seriously. Hermann--”

He manages to tug it away from him. The handwriting is pretty bad, but the math seems to be worse. “Didn’t they do the readings?” Newt mutters under his breath. “That’s not even the right equation for the diameter. I gave them a cheat sheet, man.” They’re junior year engineering students--they should know this shit.

“I know what the equation is,” Hermann snaps. “I can grade it on my own. Give it back.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t know,” Newt says, “I said this kid--”

“It’s the radius squared--”

“Hermann, dude,” Newt says, “I know you’re--”

And that’s when Hermann grabs him by his skinny tie and kisses him, hard. 

They stare at each other afterwards. Hermann’s eyes are as wide as saucers; his mouth is hanging open. Newt’s tie slips from his fingers, which then fall limp to his lap. “Holy shit,” Newt squeaks.

Hermann is gone with a swish of his parka and a loud clack of his cane. And with a stack of papers Newt still has to somehow get through. Figures.

Their next few classes together are subdued. Hermann doesn’t interject any of his biting commentary or corrections, or even offer critiques of Newt’s lack of professionalism (when in the past his skinny jeans were such an easy target), and when the period is over, he practically sprints from the classroom before he and Newt can be alone together for even a second. It’s fine by Newt. Whatever. Maybe Hermann can get over it over Thanksgiving break, and Newt can try to get over the memory of Hermann’s strong fingers tugging him down, Hermann’s floral shampoo, Hermann’s chapped, wide lips against his, the little grunt of shock Hermann made as he did it, like he couldn’t believe his own audacity...

It’s not likely.

It’s December, the last week before finals, and Newt’s in his office bundled up in a sweatshirt (because the heat never seems to fucking work in here), revising a draft of an exam, and dreading the thought of trudging home in the snow, when there’s suddenly a knock at his door. Anticipating some overeager freshman here outside of office hours, he doesn’t look up as he says “Come in.”

A familiar clearing of a throat.

Newt shoots straight up to his feet. He knocks a mug of coffee to the floor in the process. “Hermann,” he says. “Uh. Hi. What--what are you doing here?”

Hermann shuts the door behind him, then takes a careful step forward. He’s back in his big dumb coat and big long scarf. “I thought I ought to tell you myself first,” he says, primly. “I’ve submitted a request to the dean to be reassigned to another professor next semester. Our research interests are far more in line, and I don’t imagine our personalities shall clash as much.”

“Oh,” Newt says, pretending his heart isn't sinking in his chest like a hunk of lead. Was he that bad of a kisser? He feels like he deserves a second shot at it--he wasn’t ready last time, you know, he bets he’d really wow Hermann if he had a fair heads up. “Are.. are those the only reasons why?”

“No,” Hermann admits. “They’re not.”

He crosses the room, and corners Newt against his desk before Newt even realizes what’s happening. “They’re not,” he says again, then adds in a murmur (lifting one hand to brush his fingers against Newt’s hair), “Dr. Geiszler.”

Neither of them talk much, after that.

[5am-the-foxing-hour]

The Adventures 2020

X-mas (December 24th) Gift giving

Year 2020’s Adventures

5 parter, each part posted on advent: 1st 29th November, 2nd 6th December, 3rd 13th December and 4th 20rd December and the last part on Christmas 24th of December

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Characters: all of them, orange side being a cryptid again.

Words: 1591

Warnings: no warnings I believe.

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General Fanfic Tag list: @ebony-wolf, @nashiraneko, @i-sold-my-soul-to-thefandom, @rabbitsartcorner, @punsterterry,  @sleepyssnail,  @nightmaresides, @virgilswritings, @ninja-girl2846, @ninjago2020, @starryfirefliesbloggo, @garecc,  @sympatheticdeceit, @cookiethedevil, @askthesnake,  @all-bridges-will-burn, @tacohippy56900, @little-euro-girl, @aggressiveshipper, @imbasicallyshakespear, @slayerofspiders, @prinssess61, @underthesea73,  @suicidalcitrusfruit,  @sander-side-stuff, @franthehorsegir, @kingpridesanders, @multi-fandoms-posts

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The others were gathered in the living room, sitting around the christmas tree. All having one present before them.

  “Can’t we start now?” Roman whined.

  “No, we have to wait for Remus and Janus.” Logan said

  “Uuuuuuuuugh but they have no concept of time!” Roman groaned as he let himself fall back to the floor to lie down, arms crossed and pouting.

  “Now, now Roman.” Patton said as he patted Roman on the knee. “I’m sure they’re on their way.”

  “SNAKEY! GET OUT OF BED!” A voice suddenly shouted from upstairs, unmistakingly belonging to a certain duke

  “GET YOUR FILTHY PAWS OFF ME!” Came another voice, just as loud and more hysterical clearly belonging to Janus, a screech followed.

It didn’t take long before Remus came thundering down the stairs holding a loudly cursing Janus, who was bundled up in a bright yellow fluffy blanket, in his arms.

  “We’re here!” Remus cheered as he unceremoniously dropped Janus down between Thomas and Patton. Janus hissed louder as he grabbed his blanket and glared at Remus with murder in his eyes.

  “Remus, I swear, you better keep your snacks hidden or I will change them for Healthy food!” Janus snarled.

  “NO! NOT MY SNACKS!” Remus cried holding his hands protectively before himself.

  “Everyone here now?” Thomas asked.

  “Is…?” Logan started turning to Janus.

  “No, he hid even harder from Remus so I doubt he will show face.” Janus grumbled into his hand that he was leaning his jaw against, as he made himself a bit more comfortable on the floor. 

  “Then yes, everyone is here.” Logan said and nodded at Thomas. Thomas smiled and sighed in relief, as Roman cheered and sat up, only to snort at the birds nest that was Janus’s hair.

  “No hat?”

  “No, because someone didn’t have time to let me finish preparing for the day.”

  “You were taking too long!” Remus nagged. Janus just clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Virgil sighed, and Logan rolled his eyes before he clapped his hands to gain everyone's attention.

  “Since everyone is here now, why don’t we get this year's secret Santa started?” A chorus of agreements followed and soon the sides and Thomas waited as Janus summoned his hat after Roman sent him some puppy eyes to use it to draw the name on who was to hand over their present first.

   “Virgil.” Logan read from the piece of paper he had taken from the bowler hat. Virgil grimaced before he huffed

  “Well… better to get it over with… I had you Logan...” Virgil said as he summoned a package, wrapped in purple paper with white stars, he handed it over to the other side who took it in surprise.

  “Are we opening the gifts now or are we waiting til everyone got theirs?” Thomas asked.

  “It’s more fun to open them together.” Patton said with a smile.

Logan carefully placed the purple present down on the floor, before he picked up a present wrapped in dark blue paper.

  “I had you Janus.” Logan said as he handed the present over. Janus blinked before one arm appeared from the blankets and took the present, a small chuckle left him as he thought he had an idea on what it was Logan had given him.

  “Thank you.” Janus said as he put the present down. “Roman I had you.”

  “Oh… yay...” Roman said only to yelp when two of Janus’s arms suddenly appeared from the floor holding a big yellow box. Roman gaped as he took it, missing how Janus’s arms disappeared back into the floor. Roman floundered a bit before he put down the big box and took out a smaller red present. “I had you Thomas.” Roman said as he handed over the red present to Thomas, while Patton cooed at how small it was.

  “Aw it’s so small and cute~” Thomas chuckled at Patton’s comment before he took the gift, not really surprised that he could touch it. 

  “Did you and Janus work together on this one?”

  “Not at all, I totally didn’t make you forget ever buying that thing.” Janus said with a smile. while Roman chuckled and rubbed at his neck.

  “Well, I had you Patton.” Thomas said before he told Patton to hold his hands open and then concentrated, a rainbow coloured present plopped down on top of Patton’s palms and he squealed.

  “Oh I’m sure I’ll love this!” he said as he put it down and brought forth a baby blue present from behind his back and held it out to Remus. “I had you Remus. Here.”

  “Oh goodie!” Remus cackled as he took it only to blink when he felt that it was a soft present. He squeezed the paper a bit, a grin growing on his lips. “Here raccoon.” He said distractedly as one of his tentacles held out a badly wrapped gift painted green with acrylic paint to Virgil. Virgil took it with a startled yelp, grimacing when he felt how the paint was still wet.

  “Ugh.. thanks...”

  “LET*S OPEN THEM!” Remus and Roman called at the same time, causing Patton, Janus and Thomas to chuckle.

Getting a nod of approval it didn’t take long for Remus to tear into his present, to find a neon green knitted scarf, it didn’t look the best but he held it up and gaped, before he squealed and hugged it close, before happily wrapping it around his neck and bit into one end of it, chewing the chick wool. Patton chuckled at the sight before a loud gasp from Roman made them look over to find how Roman was taking out a huge stuffed lion, pale yellow with a bright red mane and green eyes and Roman’s logo on a necklace around the neck.

  “Where did you get this?!”

  “I uh… made it.” Janus said as he rubbed at his hands, gloves covering all the patches that took up his fingers from where he stabbed himself with the needle. Janus couldn’t help the blush that grew on his cheeks when Roman gave him the biggest most happy smile in years.

Patton opened his gift next, a happy sob leaving him when he saw the little stuffed frog, glittering blue in the light and a pair of big blue eyes, a pair of glasses and the cat hoodie around it’s throat.

  “It’s meee...” he sniffled.

  “Yeah, I know the first time was a bit of a bad moment, so I wanted to get you something to help you feel better about it. Logan and Roman helped me figure out how to make it.”

  “I love it.” Patton mumbled as he hugged the soft frog close.

The sound of tearing present paper was heard followed by a chuckle.

  “I knew it. Thank you Logan.” Janus said as he held a thick book in his hand. “I don’t suppose you want to go through it at a later date and discuss the content.”

  “I would lo- like that.” Logan said with a small smile.

  “So THAT’s where that lego set went” Thomas said, having opened his own present to find one of the several lego sets he bought before him. “Thanks guys.”

Logan opened his own present and blinked down at a space themed cup with a bundle of book marks filling it up, all holding different constellations on them.

  “I heard you grumble about running out of book marks last time you and the snake had your book talks, and you keep using your favourite cup so often it’s always in the dishwasher.” Virgil murmured “It’s not much but-”

  “Thank you Virgil.”

Virgil looked down at the sticky present Remus gave him, before he sighed and snapped his fingers to make the paint dry, before he unwrapped it, cursing every piece of tape he found. Before he found a bag full of stim toys, he picked up a fidget cube the same size as a rubik's cube, instantly pressing all the buttons. Remus caught sight of it and grinned.

 The evening found them all still in the living room, snuggled tight as they watched the Polar express, Logan’s request. In queue was the first Grinch movie, A Christmas Carol, The Nutcracker, and several other Christmas movies.

Thomas felt warm and content, tomorrow he would have the “real” celebration with his family, eating his fathers food and spending time with his mom. but for now, now he would bask in the calm that came, all the sides cuddled together. Somehow Logan had found his way into Janus’s blanket, hugging around the snake like side as the two leaned against Thomas’s side. Patton took up his other side, as Remus sat on the floor, purring as Patton played with his hair. Roman and Virgil sprawled on the remaining sides, Roman having the weighted lion lying on top of him acting as a weight blanket. while Virgil absently fiddled with the stim toys in the bag Remus gave him.

Thomas smiled, only to blink when a clementine was dropped on his lap, he picked it up looking around, no one else was around, Thomas turned it over to find how “Hi” had been carved out from the skin. as well as a smirking smiley. Thomas huffed and rolled his eyes.

  “He’ll show his face sometime...” Janus mumbled into his shoulder making Thomas glance at him, to see how Janus was looking at the clementine he was holding. “He’s just going to be a cryptid first.” A snort left Thomas and he chuckled, returning his attention to the TV

  “Yeah.”

[mordoriscalling]

Stay or Sail Away (5/6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4  (@geraskier-trashh​ @negativenuggetz​)

A/N: oh lord this wasn’t supposed to be 3k words long XD Hope you like it tho!

***

It was a bad idea to tell Geralt not to wear all black. Well, the scarf is grey and the coat and the shoes are black, but they don’t matter. Geralt’s just taken them off to reveal a three-piece suit and a shirt with two top buttons undone, the clothing in a deep, navy blue colour. His eyes stand out beautifully against it. Geralt in navy blue makes Jaskier want to weep and it’s only half-past noon. To add to Jaskier’s tragic swoon, Geralt’s hair is braided away from his face into a lovely plait at the back of his head (which Jaskier suspects is Ciri’s doing). It just shouldn’t look as good as it does. Geralt is so stunning today that words other than what the fuck do not begin to cover it.

Not to blurt out that in lieu of a greeting, Jaskier spreads his arms wide and exclaims, “Ahoy, captain!”

Geralt snorts with disgust. “Never say that again.”

Jaskier laughs out loud. “Come in, come in,” he says as he ushers Geralt into the living room, “make yourself at home. Are you hungry? It’s last chance for a snack before I put on some eyeliner and we’re off!”

“Eyeliner?” Geralt repeats with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, to finish off this look!” he replies as he gestures at the floral Gucci suit he’s wearing. The outfit’s actually demure considering his usual fashion choices. Bright colours and ridiculous patterns are his go-to but today is the first day of his life when he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. Much. “Help yourself with something from the kitchen if you want,” he says over his shoulder, already leaving for the bathroom.

The makeup takes just a minute or two – eyeliner application has become much less of dark magic with practice. He decides to put on some pretty pink lip gloss as well because, although he’s going to spare his family today and won’t flaunt his queerness at them, he still has to do something. It’s not at all because he hopes his fiancé might like it.

(Geralt’s suit)

(Jaskier’s suit)

When he strides into the living room, he poses like a model and asks, “How do I look?”

Geralt, who sits on the couch, stares him up and down. His gaze almost makes Jaskier blush, so does his smirk. Both border on appreciative. “Really good,” he says.

Since Jaskier expected some mean comment, he almost topples over in shock at the compliment. He sputters, definitely flushing a bit, but quickly re-establishes a working link between his mouth and his brain. “Of course I do, darling,” he replies with a wink. Geralt smirks in that sexy way again. Jaskier has to give himself a good mental shake to stop staring. Clearing his throat, he starts thinking out loud, “So! Have I got everything for the party? I’ve got Geralt, and then the present, and then... Ah! The rings!”

Jaskier sits down next to Geralt and pulls the box out of the pocket of his jacket. Raising the lid, he reveals two rings seated within, one silver and one gold. “Should I kneel?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Geralt growls.

Jaskier laughs with delight, then takes out the silver ring and passes it to Geralt. It’a simple but chunky band with tiny engravings. Jaskier figured Geralt wouldn’t appreciate anything too showy. Geralt takes it and inspects what’s engraved on it. “What kind of flowers are those?” he asks.

“Buttercups,” Jaskier explains, “That’s what my name means. My grandma always told me I’m a jaskier.”

Pretty but poisonous. It’s extremely fitting.                                    

Geralt only hmms and slides the ring on his finger. It’s a perfect fit but it’s no thanks to Jaskier’s genius deduction or anything; he simply knew Geralt’s ring size because Geralt told him. After their phone conversation regarding ring preferences, family drama and other things, they kept talking. Geralt even began starting conversations by himself – he’d send some texts about Ciri like “Ciri says hi” or “Ciri’s playing that song again”. It made Jaskier melt every time.

“Look what you bought me in return, darling,” he says, smiling excitedly, and puts on the gold ring. It’s much more flashy than Geralt’s – a signet with a three-dimensional head of a wolf. “White Wolf” is apparently Geralt’s nickname and a pseudonym of sorts. Wolves are his favourite animals, too.

Jaskier holds out his hand, putting it next to Geralt’s on the couch, and admires the rings on their fingers. “They suit us,” he says quietly

Geralt hmms. “They do.”

The drive is two hours long. Geralt insisted on driving even though it’s Jaskier’s car. Jaskier has a suspicion that driving is an excuse not to listen to him as he’s going over the essential family drama, but it’s mostly for his own sake anyway. He just wants to delude himself that Geralt will be well-prepared for everything and all will go smoothly. They will be fine. They must.

When they pull up in front of Jaskier family’s mansion, panic and second thoughts wash over him alternately in cold and hot waves. As they walk out of the car and Geralt hands him the keys, Jaskier hides within himself and observes the reality unravel a sense of detachment. He doesn’t want to be a part of the upcoming disaster.

“Ready?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier only looks at him helplessly. Geralt offers him his arm and Jaskier takes it like a lifeline. He clutches on it, the touch grounding him, as they walk towards the front door silently.

“Should’ve guessed you were rich,” Geralt remarks as he takes in the mansion looming before them.

“My success in music is all my own,” Jaskier replies feistily, “it took me ten years.”

Geralt wisely doesn’t say anything else and Jaskier settles down, letting out a shaky breath. He always gets very defensive of his achievements. Sis parents paid for nothing; he never asked them to. He hates that people assume differently.

The entrance hall is empty when they invite themselves in, but not for long. Just as they manage to take off their coats, they hear someone coming down the stairs. Jaskier looks up to see Rozalia, his older sister. She’s only one year older than him but doesn’t look a day over thirty. In appearance, she’s all mum: luxuriant dark locks, cat-green eyes, tan skin, and regal features.

“Julek!” she exclaims with a smile and rushes down the stairs into Jaskier’s open arms. They laugh when their bodies collide.

“Hey, horror sister!” Jaskier says, the words their special greeting.

“Hey, wild brother!” Rozalia replies, as tradition commands.

When Jaskier releases her from his embrace, he goes on to introduce Rozalia and Geralt to each other.

“So this is your fiancé,” Rozalia drawls after she and Geralt shake hands, clearly amused, and looks Geralt up and down. “Holy shit. I can see why you kept him a secret.”

Jaskier purses his lips, putting a possessive arm around Geralt’s waist. “Roza, you’re married.”

Rozalia only smirks, then turns on her heel and starts walking down the corridor towards the living room. “Everyone! Julek’s here!” she announces loudly.

“Julek?” Geralt mutters to Jaskier as they start following Rozalia.

“Diminutive of Julian,” Jaskier explains quietly.  

“Sweet.”

“Shut up.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

Jaskier snorts under his breath but doesn’t reply. The sensation of detachment from the reality is there again and Jaskier doesn’t fight it – the distance between him and everything else wards off the impending panic attack.

Like in a dream, he sees his other sister Amelia, who’s five years younger than him, marching towards them, her mop of short golden curls bouncing up and down as she walks. With her sweet face and wide blue eyes (just like Jaskier’s, which they both got from their dad), she looks like an angel. (Spoiler alert: she’s not. She can be the worst. That’s kind of the youngest’s privilege, though).

When Amelia hugs him and Jaskier introduces her and Geralt to each other, he’s still in a daze. Amelia walks on his side as they all enter the living room, chatting about something to him, but he doesn’t really hear it due to the ringing sound in his ears.

“Jaskier?” Geralt’s voice rumbles.

Jaskier looks into the sun-like, concerned eyes. The warmth calms him down. 

He takes in everyone in the room: his parents, Alfred and Wanda. Amelia, Rozalia and her husband Silvio. Dad’s brother, uncle Konrad, with his wife and son Ferrant. Mum’s sisters, aunts Maria, Hanna and Anna with their husbands. All watching Jaskier and Geralt expectantly.  

Jaskier puts on his best smile and lays a hand on the small of Geralt’s back. “Everyone, this is Geralt Rivia. A Royal Navy commander,” he says and observes, delighting in the array of shocked reactions his family display. “My fiancé,” he adds with pride that he doesn’t even have fake.

A round of introductions follows. Geralt shakes everyone’s hands and says nice things like “honoured to meet you finally”, “Jaskier told me so much about you” and “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you earlier”. It’s actually pretty convincing, Jaskier has to give him that. Still, it doesn’t stop one of the questions Jaskier dreads the most.

“But why didn’t you tell us anything, darling?” his mum asks as everyone sits down at the table in the dining room.

This is it, Jaskier thinks mournfully, this is when it all goes to hell. At least Geralt sits next to him. It would be a quick departure – Jaskier will just grab his fiancé and run out of the house.

“Exactly,” Amelia seconds, her slender arms crossed before her chest, “it isn’t like you. You would tell the whole world about your engagement in some wild Twitter thread.”

Shit. She got him there. “W-well, I...”

“I asked him not to,” Geralt comes to the rescue. At the confused looks from everyone around, he goes on, “Not until I go on at least one more deployment and Jaskier’s absolutely sure he wants this. He should have it easier in case he changes his mind. Fewer people know about it, less painful it is to announce.”

Jaskier’s dad frowns. “But why do you assume he’d do that?” he inquires, regarding Geralt with suspicion.

“Being in a relationship with a marine officer is hard,” Geralt replies with a heavy sigh and makes a dramatic pause. Jaskier’s family looks at him with almost bated breath but he takes his time, the bastard. He already has them hanging off his every word. “My deployments are rarely shorter than nine months long,” he confesses ruefully.

A stunned silence falls over the room. Jaskier’s family stare at him with disbelief – they all know Jaskier wouldn’t be able to survive a relationship like that, not with how needy he can be.

Of bloody course Geralt would take it too far at the very start.

“But I’m stubborn!” Jaskier exclaims as cheerfully as he can, “Won’t have anyone else but Geralt.”

“Well, that’s all you,” Amelia says, and Jaskier heaves a sigh of relief.

It’s not that Jaskier doesn’t appreciate Amelia’s inquisitive mind. She’s always had the tendency to analyze and look into everything until every fact and detail adds up. Her character makes her the perfect heir to the family business, which she’s agreed to gladly. Ever since she made that decision, Jaskier choosing music is much less of a painful topic for their family. And so, Jaskier certainly values his younger sister’s nature of constant question-asking, but not in moments like this.

Amelia appears to already know what is going on here and Jaskier only prays she’ll be nice enough not to delve into it too much. Maybe some warning glances from Rozalia and begging ones from Jaskier will stop her. Maybe.

Food is served, alcohol starts flowing. Jaskier’s family begin asking Geralt about himself but Jaskier always tries to twist the conversation so that questions about their relationship don’t come. Until they do.

After they sang dad happy birthday, told him their wishes and gave him the gifts, it’s time to eat the birthday cake. Just when Jaskier puts half of his slice on Geralt’s plate (he doesn’t even like cake), Silvio asks, “When did you two meet?”

Geralt and Jaskier share a look. Jaskier opens his mouth to answer but it’s Geralt who says, “It was two years ago. I walked into a bar where Jaskier was playing. He asked me for a review of his songs after his performance.”

Geralt has the audacity to smirk at him so Jaskier, just to be a little shit, adds, “In three words or less!”

Geralt doesn’t appreciate this contribution judging by how he narrows his eyes at him. Jaskier knows they’re treading a dangerous ground – in their stupidity, they didn’t discuss the details of their “first meeting”. Geralt started it, though.

“And what did you say?” Silvio questions.

“That they don’t exist,” Geralt replies without a beat, still staring Jaskier in the eye.

“Whaaat don’t exist?” Jaskier’s father says what Jaskier himself almost blurts out.

“The creatures in his songs,” Geralt explains.

The affronted noise that leaves Jaskier's mouth is beyond his control. “It’s folk! The genre allows for fantastical elements like that!�� He huffs. “But you know, Geralt with his commander mind always wants the facts and only facts.”

“So you don’t like Julek’s singing?” Rozalia asks Geralt.

Geralt denies this with a shake of his head. “Jaskier sings beautifully,” he replies, “Like a siren.” He lays his hand on Jaskier’s and looks into Jaskier’s eyes. “My siren,” he adds quietly.

Jaskier has to gape a little. He barely restrains himself from mouthing are fucking serious? because, really, Geralt can’t just say things like that. When he regains his composure, he decides to be mean. “I told you not to call me that, dear heart,” he says, “Not exactly flattering. Sirens lured sailors to their demise.”

Geralt does that lethally adorable head tilt and answers, “Still would go for you.”

He can hear aunt Maria cooing in the background, bless her heart, but Jaskier almost doesn’t register it. His attention is fully on Geralt – there’s something new in his gaze, beneath the teasing glint. Something guarded, tentative and true. Jaskier cocks his head to the side just a little bit. Geralt notices the question in the gesture (they’re really getting good at reading each other, aren’t they?) and answers by raising an eyebrow, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Jaskier experiences the feeling of a thousand butterflies fluttering their wings in his stomach when he understands – it’s an invitation. He accepts.

Geralt’s lips stretch into a small smile and he squeezes Jaskier’s hand on the table, intertwining their fingers together. Jaskier’s heart almost gives out and he grins, giddy like a teenager who’s just found out their crush is reciprocated. It’s not that far off from the truth anyway.

Uncle Konrad asks Geralt about the Navy. The two of them start discussing working in the army but Jaskier only half-listens, too focused on cherishing the feel of Geralt’s palm engulfing his. Until Geralt takes his hand away, that is.

With a displeased grunt, Geralt takes his phone out of the inner pocket of his jacket. The screen displays an incoming call. “I should take this,” he says apologetically and quickly walks out of the dining room.   

The moment Geralt leaves, the assault is unleashed upon Jaskier. His family bombard him with so many questions and remarks at once that he only hears what Rozalia sitting next to him says. “Didn’t know you were into older men,” she comments, swirling the wine in her glass innocently.

“He’s forty!”

She frowns. “Then what’s the deal with the hair?”

Jaskier freezes in panic. Fucking hell, what is the deal with the hair? He has no idea. Geralt refused to answer his questions. “W-well,” he stutters out, “it’s really... uhh...” He clears his throat. “Not my story to tell. Geralt doesn’t like to talk about it.”

Rozalia hums, an amused twinkle in her eyes. “How mysterious.”

“He sure does seem mysterious,” uncle Konrad chimes in, “And...”

“Quiet?” Ferrant suggests.

“Taciturn?” Silvio supplies.

“Closed off?” aunt Hanna adds.

“Why are you saying it like it’s a bad thing?” Jaskier cuts in, interrupting this merry-go-round offering of adjectives before it spirals into everyone calling Geralt a brute.

“It’s not,” aunt Anna reassures, “It’s just that... I’m sure I’m not the only one wondering how on earth the relationship is even working with him being like this and you being, well...” she trails off and gestures at Jaskier with her fork. “You.”

“Frist off, I’ll take this as a compliment –”

“Of course, dear.”

“ – and secondly, even though we’re different, our differences only keep things... interesting, if you get my meaning.” Jaskier throws in a telling wink, and his uncles chuckle.

“Julian!” both his parents cry out, scandalised.

“Honestly,” Jaskeir goes on, unmoved, “deep down, he and I are quite the same.”

“Indeed?” Amelia asks, “Is he also a bastard at heart?”

“Yesss!” he hisses out, wildly pleased. Sometimes he loves Amelia’s analytic mind.

“He actually seems like a sweetheart,” his mum says, warming Jaskier to his very heart. He loves his mum so much – she always sees the best in people.  

“He’s both, really,” he replies, “He’s certainly a sweetheart to his daughter.” Jaskier delights in shocking his family once again. Then, an idea pops up in his mind, “If you ask him about her, he’ll open right up.”

Before anyone can ask anything else, Geralt returns. After taking one look at him, Jaskier knows something is wrong. There’s tension about him but his face is a blank mask. 

“Something wrong, love?” Jaskier whispers, barely realising that he even said the endearment.

“Work,” Geralt grunts.  

“Geralt,” Jaskier’s father says, “Julian tells us you have a daughter?”

Geralt face lights up immediately. It’s such a charming sight. Jaskier’s chest constricts with how everything in him screams and begs don’t ever go. 

“Yes,” he answers and launches into talking about Cirilla – how old she is, where she goes to school, what she likes doing. How she loved to paint her little hands on the walls when she was six. Soon after that, everyone shares funny stories about children, either their own or themselves as kids.

Jaskier zones out a bit, too busy wondering why Geralt took his hand away when he reach for it.

Later, Jaskier’s parents invite Geralt to stay for the night, which makes the fake-fiance scheme a success; they wouldn’t allow someone who they thought to be a stranger to sleep in their house.

Geralt doesn’t take them up on their offer.

TBC

Part 6

***

A/N: Rozalia is the Horror while Jaskier is the Wild 💕 (Amelia is the nasty angel baby. They adore her for it. Must protecc).

(Also, I love making up OCs, can you tell? XD)

[iwillsithereandtrytocontribute]

Lost in the Wrong Story

I Knew You

Masterlist Last Next Ao3

A/N: A mini series collaboration of Roman angst between @hitmewiththatfanart33 and I. Feel free to ask either of us to be tagged. The next part will be posted to her blog!

Chapter Summary: Roman’s absence is affecting Patton a lot more than he lets on, and given the opportunity, he goes after him alone. Roman makes it clear he’s there to stay.

     Janus blinked owlishly as the early morning sunlight flooded into the room. That was strange. His room didn’t get sun. It took him a moment to realize where he was, but Patton’s arm around his torso quickly gave it away to his still-exhausted brain, as did the thousands of pictures lining the walls. Patton pulled Janus in tighter, wrapping him in his warm embrace until he was flush against his back, and oh how Janus longed to shut his eyes and melt into him. After the night he’d had, Janus could sleep for hours more. He shook his head slightly with the knowledge he couldn’t, and he forced his eyes to stay open, however heavy their lids were. Unfortunately, being awake meant that everything was starting to come back to him. 

     His heart ached, wishing Roman could be here with them. Janus must have moved slightly because Patton opened his eyes and removed his arm from around him to reach for his glasses. Janus sat up with a quiet groan, almost instantly missing Patton’s warmth, and he shivered as a chill ran over him.  

      “Morning, Honey-Dee,” Patton yawned. It was a huge one that merited a small, cute head shake afterwards. 

      “Good morning, my love,” Janus hummed, (voice true to his favorite pet name), barely holding in a matching yawn. Patton giggled and cupped his cheek to give him a quick morning kiss as well as nuzzle their noses together. Logan knocked on the door frame— when had he gotten there?— effectively drawing their attention away from one another. He looked entirely too fond. “And my other love.” Virgil appeared behind Logan. “And my—”

     “Yeah, yeah. We get it, Jay,” Virgil interrupted. “We’ve got more important things to do.” Janus decided not to mention the deep blush that had appeared on Virgil’s cheeks. He was right of course, but that didn’t take away from Janus’ satisfaction at flustering his partners. 

     Logan, on the other hand, was much more serious. He’d always been the most insufferable morning person. Knowing him, he’d been up for hours. “I am a little surprised at you, Janus. I would have expected you up by now seeing how worried you were last night. Given what you described, I was up rather early in order to begin our search for Roman.” 

     Janus rolled his eyes. He flicked his hand at Logan, putting him in the dress he had worn the night before, and god did he look good, shoulders bare and more elegantly dressed than they’d ever seen him. “You try running a restaurant in that.” Logan’s blush was matched by his partners. Now was not the time to be useless gays, but god dammit if that wasn’t just what they were.

     “I may have made an error in judgement,” Logan acknowledged. Virgil discreetly kicked him. Patton didn’t notice, but Janus still caught it and delighted in the rapidly deepening blush that came across their nerd’s face. “I apologize for being short with you,” he finished sheepishly, returning himself to his regular shirt and tie.

     “I convinced him to let you sleep in,” Virgil explained. Janus thanked his stars for his emo, for if he’d gotten a second less of sleep, he was sure he’d commit several different crimes today before blacking out. Several more than usual, that is. 

     Patton cocked his head to the side. “It’s not like you to be up so early, Virge.”

     “It is if I never slept,” Virgil said, doing finger guns in a poor attempt to lighten the situation. Patton crossed his arms, giving Virgil his Pattonted death stare. 

     “We’ll talk about that later.”

     Janus swung his legs out of bed and stood up. A wave of his hand removed any rumples from his clothing— he’d been too tired to change last night— restoring it to its crisp, clean norm, and as a finishing touch, he snapped his shoes on before elegantly twirling his bowler hat between his fingers, placing it on his head. Patton did the same, the only difference being him switching out his cat onesie for his normal clothing. Janus took a deep breath. “Alright. Let’s get Remus.”

***

     Patton hid behind Logan, as did Virgil, which was why he held his hand so that their brave Janus, who had put up with Remus’ chaos for years could do the talking. Logan was probably the warmest of all of them, even though Ro— smile, Patton— Patton himself was a pretty cozy temperature. He didn’t know what it was. He just radiated heat that Patton could feel even from merely hovering close to his strong shoulders. The same couldn’t be said for Janus and Virgil, however, for the two of them were cold as corpses— ew no, he was too close to Remus’ room gross gross gross…

     “Hello, Remus,” Janus greeted smoothly. Patton loved his voice so much. 

     “Riddle me this: if my anaconda don’t want none unless you got buns, what does he want?” The way he spoke— like they were prey— made Patton squeak and squeeze his boyfriend’s cold hand tighter. 

     “For you to open the imagination. Roman locked us out.” Janus sounded annoyed already, and Patton peered around Logan’s shoulder to brave a look at the scene. 

     Remus lounged languidly against his door, holding it seductively, but at least there wasn’t any blood involved, and Janus had his arms crossed with his weight shifted to one leg in impatience with the duke. “Not my problem,” Remus shrugged, about to close the door. Janus stuck his foot inside. 

     “It is when he’s your brother and might not be coming home unless you help us,” he snapped. Then his tone softened, his eyes flickered to the floor, and he looked so uncharacteristically troubled. “He’s really hurting right now, Remus. Please.”

     “Only if I get to call Patton daddy.”

     “No,” Patton’s partners all quickly said in unison. Patton blushed. He was still scarred from figuring out what that meant after being called it so many times, but he was used to it by now. 

     Remus considered Janus, peering to the left of his door to get a good look at the other three of them, and Patton shuddered. “Fine,” he groaned after a long silence. “I can’t unlock it, but I can use my door.”

     Janus stepped aside to let Remus out, and he shut his door behind him, closed his eyes, then opened it again. It was just a swirling black portal of some sort. “In you go! There’s no telling where you’ll end up— it’s a bit chaotic in there— but if you think about brother dearest long enough, you should be able to find him.” Remus sounded incredibly impish, which made Patton a bit nervous, but when it came to any of his partners, he would do anything. He took a deep breath, stepped around Logan, and charged through the door before he could be stopped. He only had one thought on his mind: Roman. 

     When he stumbled through to whatever side, dimension, or however else he could have possibly reached this place from Remus’ door, he was in a lovely khaki skirt with a loose-fitting, light blue shirt tucked into it beneath a black corset of sorts. His feet were bare— that was probably the first thing he noticed because suddenly there was grass— and everything around him was so green and alive. Nearby a gray... scarf?... he assumed to be his rested on a low-hanging tree branch. Under that same tree sat a basket.

     Everything was starting to feel eerily familiar...

     Nostalgic.

     He let himself breathe in the fresh air that smelled of spring while he figured it out, letting the sun filtering down from the gaps in the trees hit his freckled arms. This place felt like home. All he could hear were birds chirping their beautiful songs without a trace of another human in sight or earshot, which troubled him, but he didn’t let it deter him from his mission. He’d be found by his loves if he got lost, right? Of course. Why would he even doubt it?

     Though he tried to think bright thoughts, his smile felt queasy and he suddenly dreaded having rushed through the door alone. Why wasn’t anyone else here yet? And where was here? His breaths began to come in heavier, and he spun in a circle. Everything looked the same. These were just trees in the woods with no markings, no one to hold his hand, and certainly no one to lead the way. 

     That just meant he had to figure things out for himself. Janus had said fairy tales, right? Well then which one was he in?

     Oh! Oh! Black corset, tan skirt, no shoes… Was he— was he Aurora?! Patton squealed, unable to stop himself from jumping up and down in the soft greenery. ‘I know how to find Roman,’ he sang in his head, though really Roman would be coming to him. 

     He clasped his hands behind his back innocently, looking around before beginning to sing. He took a big, slow, almost dancing step, liking the way the skirt moved with his leg. “I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.” He twirled, and soon he was getting into the swing of things, freely sashaying around the forest floor. 

     “And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem, but if I know you, I know what you’ll do: you’ll love me at once, the way you did once…” Patton suddenly stopped, his chest throbbing as the full force of everything hit him. “... upon a… dream.” Then, of course, he was crying. What if Roman really didn’t come for him? What if he didn’t want them to find him so badly that he would just leave Patton alone? What if he never got his fingers kissed again, or had someone to sleepily sing with him in the morning? What if no one ever carried him to bed when he accidentally fell asleep during a movie? What if he never got to tell Roman how much he loved him again? God, he missed him so terribly much already. 

     He pressed his back against one of the trees with the gray bark, burying his face in his hands to wet them with tears in private. Someone gently tried to pry them away, and Patton, thinking he was alone, screamed loud enough to send the birds flying. There was nowhere to scramble backwards to, so his first instinct was to push the person away from him as hard as he could. They didn’t so much as budge. And though his original effort failed, Patton was instantly overwhelmed with joy because he’d know that broad, firm chest anywhere. His head shot up. 

     Heart still pounding, he grinned, exclaiming, “Ro—” 

     “Shh. Dance with me?” Patton frowned, hesitantly offering his hands with halting movement as he tried to discern Roman’s face. He hid his sad eyes behind a concerned expression, and in a moment the look was gone, turning into a too-wide, too-bright smile. Roman took Patton’s hands, pulling him away from the tree, and began twirling him in time to music that played softly from thin air. Roman hummed along as they danced without saying a word. 

     Patton tried to enjoy it, he really did. Roman was an elegant dancer and Patton enjoyed being his partner, but something was obviously wrong. Patton couldn’t pinpoint the denial as accurately as Janus, but as in tune as he was to emotion, it was hard to miss the raw feeling in Roman’s face, posture, even the world he had created. “Roman—” Patton tried again. 

     Roman pulled Patton closer, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek, but never once did he look him in the eye, instead gazing off somewhere behind him. “It’s alright, Patton. You’re allowed to cry,” he murmured. Patton almost laughed. 

     “It’s not about that. I mean, I suppose it is... I just didn’t think you were coming for me, and I missed you so much it hurt.” Patton was far from laughing now. He felt tears burn trails down his cheeks, and their dancing came to a halt along with the music. Roman lifted a hand to wipe the tears off of his face. 

     “You missed me?” Roman asked haltingly. His face slackened for a moment before being drawn back into that fake smile. It almost looked like a glitch, the sudden changes scaring Patton. “We only met but a few minutes ago. Did I make that large of an impression on you, darling?” he teased. 

     No no no… He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t— “Roman, we’ve been dating for months.” Patton was full-on crying now. He hadn’t quite believed Janus until now, for there was no way Roman felt so unwanted with all of them around. And yet… here they were. Standing in the middle of a serene forest that his ever so talented love had created, Patton uncontrollably crying his eyes out and Roman standing still as a statue because he didn’t know how to cope. How was it that Patton was only now feeling the depth of Roman’s insecurities? How was he only now realizing how hurt Roman was? 

     Roman dropped Patton’s hands reflexively, taking a small step back. “Patton… Why are you here?” 

     “We— We came for you. Janus told us what happened and—”

     “I told him not to follow me. I need— I need some space.” He ran a hand through his hair. 

     Patton took a step forward. “You need to come home.” Roman stepped further away, turning his back to Patton. “Roman?” He tried to put his hand on Roman’s shoulder, but he pulled away. 

     “Where were you when Janus came for me?” Roman asked hollowly. “You leave me alone for days before showing up randomly to discuss our feelings? I’m sick of it, Patton. I just want to be left alone.” Did he, or was he trying to push them away? Roman turned his head slightly towards Patton, and he swore he would never forget that apathetic goodbye. “Don’t try to follow me.” His stomach sank in dread. 

     Then Roman began walking through the trees, and behind him tumbled in thick fumes of fog. Patton desperately tried to follow him, but his regal form was quickly enveloped in the mist like a fleeting vision of a ghost that Patton had been graced with, leaving him to stumble around blindly, tripping over tree roots and low bushes. Roman wasn’t gone. He wouldn’t just leave him like this. It was a joke, right? Please let it be a joke. 

     He kept going and going and going, too scared of being left alone to stop, too scared of losing Roman to slow down. At one point he walked face-first into a tree branch, breaking his glasses, though it wasn’t like he could see in the first place. He threw them to the ground with a sobbing scream of frustration, then kept moving. 

     He had to keep searching. He had to. 

     “Roman?” Patton called. “Roman, this isn’t funny. Come out.” He finally found the end to the fog, but no Roman. Grief and fear twisted together to wrench his stomach. “Roman!’ Patton yelled louder and louder, diving back into the fog, screaming Roman’s name until his voice was hoarse. He fell more times than he could count, tearing his skirt and even his skin on more than just a few occasions. Wherever Roman was, he wasn’t here anymore. Slowly, the fog cleared, leaving a beaten-down Patton to numbly wander the forest. 

     He was alone.

*

*

*

@cuter-on-the-inside @abbyisconfused @n4o5r7a9 @omni-hamiltrash @fandomsofrandom @t0astyt0es @withspaces @anyelram841 @yep-another-fander @strangecreatureyoucantidentify @fandom-trash-304 @chelsvans @nomejodasb @iampengwing @neonb-fly @analogical-mess @midnight-tragedyy @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @athenashipsthings @thgjclw @littleladynightshade @casuallyimpossibledream @hekking-happy-nonsense @comicsimpson @slutforketchup @sanderrsidess @i-need-you-buddy @witchyvirgil @ghosttb0y @pixelatedrose @emilightniing @csi-baker-street-babes @iwillsithereandtrytocontribute @spooky-scary-virgil @justanothernerdyfandomblog @phantomfantasize @panicattheeveywhere @hedgiehoggles @i-really-like-dragons @youre-lazy-and-youre-gay0-0 @crabsncrabs @gattonero17 @dragonleesupporter @lokiamorstuffs @emo--nightmaree @anotherbisexualbooklover @7-slights-at-virgil @romanvirgil @croftersjam15

[thethistlegirlwrites]

🧣 Clothes sharing and 🔥 Campfires for Robin

🧣 Clothes sharing

It took a few days for Cody to realize his scarf was missing. He'd left it at Rowan House when he went outside to play with Robin and the stray pack one afternoon, and he'd forgotten all about it since the next few days had been warm. Now, though, there was a cool breeze blowing in off the ocean, and try as he might he couldn't find the scarf anywhere.

It wasn't a particular favorite. His Aunt Cecilia knits him the same Christmas gift every year, made with wool from her organic alpaca farm in Wyoming. He has to admit the scarves are very warm, but the dyes are usually a wild combination of nut browns, off-tone greens, beet reds, and whatever other natural colors she's managed to manufacture that year.

He grabs a brown-and-yellow one, last year's gift, as he's getting ready for class, and thinks nothing more about it.

When he gets home, he ducks under the fence and through the glamour to visit Robin. He meets Hamish first, out front tending to the herb garden.

"Yer friend's here, a chuilein," he calls, and Robin emerges from the house. It takes a minute for Cody to recognize the dull brown and rust-colored scarf wrapped around his neck.

He decides not to say anything, at least not now. He doesn't want Robin to get in trouble with his grandfather. And he's seen how cold Robin looks when they're out playing. even running around with the dogs, he's always rubbing his arms or blowing on his fingers.

He forgets to say anything when they notice a new dog with the pack, a shaggy mutt with rough grey fur and one pointed ear and one lopped over. He's remarkably friendly, and has a collar mark in his fur, and they spend the rest of the afternoon making found dog posters. Cody wants to try making the next batch on the school computer, but he's not sure how he'd explain the regular occurrence to the teacher. Most kids find one dog a year. With Robin, it's more like one a week. Besides, Robin's drawings of the dog look more lifelike than any picture.

It's only when he realizes it's past time for dinner and his mom will be worried that Cody heads for the door, grabbing his backpack to stuff in the posters he'll put up later. He stops when he notices Robin's draped the red and brown scarf over it.

"Hey, you can keep this if you want," Cody says, holding up the scarf. "I got about ten." He hadn't seen Robin shiver once this afternoon.

"Can't," Robin says, and it sounds like he's struggling to get the word out.

Cody frowns. "Why not?"

"That's a gift. No gifts," Robin tries to explain, each word apparently a monumental effort.

When Grandda Hamish opens the door, he leans down to talk to Cody, who feels a little ridiculous wearing two scarves now. "I know ye mean well, laddie." It's always SO strange to hear someone who actually talks like the people in the history shows the teacher sometimes puts on in class. "But ye cannae just be givin' things away here. Fae aren't like ye humans. There's debts and bargains and such. If ye give the lad something, ye put him in yer debt."

Cody swallows hard. He doesn't know exactly what that means, but he knows Dad keeps telling Rudy to be careful about student loans for college so he doesn't get into too much debt. And Cody thinks that's why the Miesners that used to be in his class lost their house. He doesn't want Robin and Grandda Hamish to lose Rowan House. They belong here.

"Okay."

He spends the rest of the evening pretending to do homework on the family desktop so he can search for information about the fae on the internet. There's lots about the debts and bargains, but not about how to get around them. Mostly it's about how to trick fae into accepting gifts so they do owe you something.

But finally, Cody finds an article about ways to get around fae gifts. It's meant for people with a fae girlfriend or boyfriend, but Cody's sure it should work just as well for best friends.

The next day, he shows up at Rowan House with two scarves again. He hangs the red and brown one on a branch by the door, then points it out to Robin. "I think I should leave a scarf here in case I forget mine," He says. "You're welcome to use it if I don't need it."

Robin smiles, looking from the scarf around Cody's neck to the one by the door, then tentatively reaches out and takes the one from the branch. Cody grins. This works perfectly.

🔥 Campfires

Robin arranges a handful of wood in the fire pit. He can hear Cody bustling around in the kitchen making spiced cider, with John continuously insisting that it needs cayenne.

"Add your own!" Cody argues, walking out with a handful of mugs. "I am not subjecting everyone to your insane Texan tastes."

John shrugs and sets the little jar of dried pepper down on one of the benches.

Cody hands the mugs around. Robin sets his down next to him, watching John liberally sprinkle spice into his mug, while Kira wraps her fingers around her own and takes a small sip.

GREAT she signs enthusiastically with one hand, and Cody smiles.

Robin's noticed she's taken to shutting off or taking out her hearing aids at Rowan House. He and Cody have both picked up enough ASL to be reasonably confident in what she's saying, unless she gets excited and signs too fast for them to keep up. He's glad she's comfortable being herself around them.

He feels comfortable too. He's trusted Cody for a long time, but now he knows John and Kira are safe to let in too. So does the Rowan, judging by the way it's resting branches on Kira's shoulder and John's arm. The first few times that happened, both of them were startled and prepared to fight whatever touched them unexpectedly, but now they seem to understand that it's just the Rowan's way of being friendly. It can't talk, so instead it wants to be close.

A couple cats wander on to the deck, probably drawn by the smell of the homemade pretzels browning in the oven, and twine themselves around everyone's feet. Robin chuckles as the smaller one hops up on the bench next to Kira and starts batting at the ends of her curls that have tumbled out of her messy bun.

He leans over the firepit and holds out his hand. It isn't hard to coax out the sparks now. He feels warm and happy surrounded by his friends, and the sparks flicker around his fingers with almost no effort at all. They feel like they're bubbling up from the happy cozy place inside him.

Flames leap up, licking at the wood, and Robin looks around at his team, their faces lit by the warm glow. He couldn't ask for anything better.

@nade2308 @telltaleclerk @bands-space-and-monsters-oh-my @catwingsathena @asloudasalone @anguishmacgyver @flowing-river24 I remembered my tag list this time!!

[therewasatale]

Puns and lanterns

On Ao3. 

You looked up at the clock hanging on the wall. It was half past eight in the evening, meant you still had half an hour to get to the meeting place. You planned with Sans that you two would meet at the foot of Mount Ebott and from there you two will visit one of the lookouts around it.

Quickly packed everything in your bag, slipping your lighter into the pocket of your blue jacket before starting your way out. When you passed in front of the wardrobe, you stopped to stroke the head of the little black cat resting on your jackets.

"Don't wait for me Spot! I'm coming back late tonight, maybe just tomorrow round dawn!"

You could hear a lazy meow from the cat as a response, just before the door closed behind you.

Surprisingly, the traffic was quiet busy in the city for this part of the day. You had bypassed small groups of people here and there, children's laughter mixed into the air. Although the number of monsters was small so far, the two races lived in peace in the city.

You hurried past a family and with a smile nodded your head towards them.

"Good evening Grillby."

The flame monster gestured and although it was hard to read anything from his face, for a moment you felt like he was giving you a friendly smile. His daughter, who unlike her father, had a greenish flame, waved at you. You returned the gesture before disappearing into the crowd.

You quickened your pace but made sure that your bag and especially its contents are safe on your way. Luckily, the whole event was put on until the end of the summer, so despite the fact that sundown was more than a couple of hours ago the air was still pleasantly warm. The police was there making sure the people weren’t pushing each other and everyone have someplace.

Halfway down the main road, you heard the very familiar sound of a skeleton.

"AND SO ME AND MY BROTHER ARE GOING TO FLY UP THEN! NYEH HEH HEH!"

"I really like it Papyrus!"

"YOURS IS LOVELY TOO, FRISK. LOOK (Y/N) HAS ALSO ARRIVED!"

You waved at the three monster and the children.

"Good evening, everyone."

*heya, (y/n).

You tried to ignore the warmth that flushed across your face and hoped no one would notice your embarrassment.

"GOOD EVENING (Y/N). READY FOR THE FLYING OF THE LAMPS?"

"I think they are called sky lanterns, Papyrus. Good evening, (Y/N)." Toriel nodded her head at you and gently patted Frisk's shoulder. They waved at you standing next their mother. The goat monster held a beautifully crafted pulp lantern in her free hand, which was decorated in all sorts of colors, probably by Frisk.

Looking at the lantern in Papyrus' hand, you were almost certain that it depicted him and Sans.

"Evening everyone. I'm glad to find you here, Miss Toriel." You knelt down and unzipped your bag.

"Come on, Toriel is more than enough." She smiled warmly.

You nodded and pulled out a bowl. "Last time, when Frisk was at my place, they really liked my pear cake. So I threw together some." You handed the plastic food container to the child. "I hope you will find it just as tasty this time too."

Frisk's eyes glinted with hunger, but before snatching the cake away they stopped and looked up at Toriel. She nodded softly, giggling.

"Really kind of you, thank you very much."

"Don’t mention it, I did some for you too Papyrus, Sans, I hope you accept."

"HOW KIND OF YOU, (Y/N). IN RETURN THAT I SHALL MAKE YOU ONE OF MY SPECTACULAR SPHAGETTIS TOMORROW."

*Paps makes the best spaghetti in the world.

"(Y/N), you will have bone appetite for sure." Said Toriel.

Sans chuckled a little. You nodded with a faint smile, but under it, something unpleasant stirred in your soul.

"PLEASE, MISS TORIEL." Papyrus snorted painfully.

You handed Sans the food container and then took out your own lantern from the bag. Yours had eight hearts painted in a circle, seven of us possessed the color of the qualities from which humans were able to gain strength, but one was snow-white like the soul of monsters. In addition, beneath the green heart there was a slightly childishly drawing of a cat with a white spot on its belly. You’ve never been famous for your drawing talent, but you liked it and maybe that was enough.

"I think it's time to go. It will start soon." Toriel patted Frisk's head and they started on their way, Papyrus followed them with big steppes.

At last Sans glanced up at you.

*shall we go too?

You nodded and slid one of your hand into your pocket, searching for your lighter.

It has been almost 500 years since the war ended with the monsters. They reappeared out from nowhere more than a year ago. Fortunately, the primary shock was handled well by the leaders of the city and country. No one wanted more war, and with both sides having that common goal, negotiations soon began.

The first couple of weeks felt like both humans and monsters were walking on eggshells. There were small bumps on the road, like where to place the monsters and the speed of their integration into society. The latter went surprisingly easily, thanks to the technical sophistication of the monsters, and Frisk, who was very helpful for both parties.

They moved into the town next to the mountain a few months ago, and in the meantime you got to know the two skeletons. At first, Papyrus who tried to adopt and bring home a stray cat he found.

You didn’t even know why exactly, but you greeted him and you two started talking. You were soon captivated by the naive and over-the-top kindness of the skeleton, and when you met his brother, the world turned upside down for you. After about two weeks later, not only the two brothers, but Frisk too was your guest, even though before that you had a guest maybe every six months or so. And of course your life became richer with Spot, your cat too.

Soon after the visits, you found yourself thinking about Sans all day, and weeks later you realized that your awakening feelings might not be unrequited. Ever since the monsters entered your life, your world became filled with colour. Maybe that’s how you got the idea for the eight hearts when you were thinking about your sky lantern.

Walking down the path, you glanced down at San's hand and gently reached out to touch his bone-hand. The monster smiled up at you and took your hand.

You felt yourself lucky, and for the first time in your life, really happy. But of course perfection only exist in fairy tales. You looked at Toriel and the unpleasant feeling from before tried to take hold of you, but you didn’t let it. A lovely night, that’s all what you wanted and frustrating thoughts were not needed for that.

"Well, we arrived." Toriel stopped at the edge of the lookout. The mountain was secured after the incident when Frisk disappeared, and after the monsters appeared, several lookouts and resting places were built on it. The huge crate created at the emergence of the monster was covered up with magic.

"IT'S STARTING!" Papyrus excitedly pointed between two trees, above the ground in the air a few slowly rocking lanterns were already ascending lazily toward the stars.

"Come on, I have a lighter," with a soft smile you helped to light the little candle in their lantern and then your own. The flame burned with a green light and the warm air lifted the lantern from your hands.

Around the mountain, hundreds of glowing dots, like yours, headed for the starry sky. In parts of the city, the streetlights were turned off to make the stars and lanterns more visible.

"How beautiful." Toriel took Frisk in his arms and they gazed up at the sky.

"LIKE SMALL COLOURFULL STARS!"

*i have to admit, this kind of anniversary celebration was a really good idea.

You took a deep breath with your hands still in your pockets. As you watched the sky the forest surrounding the mountain slowly filled with the sense of magic, the feeling gently spread through your body. For the first time since long ago, a peaceful feeling enveloped Mount Ebott.

The night of the lanterns was the idea of the city administration. To celebrate a day when humans and monsters finally decided to live side by side in peace again. News outlets and papers made the announcement that there won't be another war with the monsters. It's been exactly a year.

Frisk's softly sniffed, yet the noise was somehow happy instead of sad.

"Oh, my child." Her mother hugged them closer. "Everything alright?"

The child nodded and hugged her back.

"DON'T CRY HUMAN! EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE NOW! IT'S THANK YOU THAT EVERYONE CAN LIVE IN PEACE!"

You handed Frisk a handkerchief, they nodded as a thank and sent a smile to you.

*we sure wouldn't be here without you, kiddo.

You gently patted Sans hand and turned your eyes towards the sky too.

"Look, Frisk," you pointed out the lanterns furthest up the sky. They flared up and then the flames stretched across the sky. Thanks to the many different coloured flames, the spectacle was as of the northern lights have unfolded in the sky. The stars smiled down at you like tiny, shining eyes.

You couldn’t decide if Frisk or Papyrus was more impressed with what you saw. Still, you too wanted to keep the memory of this evening forever in your soul.

Maybe a half hour later most of the families headed home, you saw several sleeping kids hanging around their parents’ necks as they walked down on the side of the mountain. The evening had achieved exactly what they wanted, everyone felt like that the things are going well. Monsters and humans alike.

"It's time we go."

"MY GREATNESS IS SPENT FOR TODAY! BUT JUST FOR TODAY, TOMORROW IS A NEW DAY AND MORE AWESOMENESS WAIT FOR US."

*let's go, Paps.

You glanced at them with a smile. "It was nice to see you all. I'll stay a little longer here, but I wish you all a good night."

"Good night, don't catch a cold." Toriel nodded, holding the sleeping Frisk in her arms and began to walk home.

*sure, come bro, I know a shortcut.

"THIS WILL KEEP YOU WARN, (Y/N). YOU CAN RETURN IT TOMORROW WHEN WE MEET. NYEHEHEHE!" Papyrus suddenly wrapped his scarf around your neck and hurried after Sans.

*you're so cool bro.

With a warm smile, you pulled the scarf in front of your face and giggled a little as you smelled a faint scent of spaghetti.

You felt very, very lucky to have friends like that. You didn’t even notice as you slowly started to stroke the red fabric as you watched the remaining lanterns climbing up to the sky. This evening, even if you only managed to meet them for a short time, was wonderful.

A year ago, you would have watched some series until dawn, and then fallen asleep in front of the screen. To be completely honest, it still happens time to time, but you always have some company for it, either Spot, or Sans. In occasions, even Papyrus and Frisk will join in on the binge watching. This was the reason why you recently bought a bed that was so big it took up most of the space in your bedroom. At least in exchange it can hold three people comfortably when it came to that. It happened so surprisingly, you hardly even realized how much your life had changed.

You sat down on the stone bench built on the edge of the lookout and took out the smallest container from your bag. Just to be sure, since you didn’t know how long you’d be away, you also packed yourself a slice of pie. The pleasant aroma of pear immediately hit your nose as you popped open the top, but at the same time, a twitch of unnerving feeling began to step out from the door you shut it behind. It all made no sense, and yet. You tapped a small rhythm on the plastic, but before you could put it away someone spoke up before you.

*may I join?

You turned towards the direction of the voice and nodded towards the place beside you with a smile.

Sans sat down with his usual grin on his face.

*that scarf looks good on you. not as good as on Papyrus, but you are the second coolest figure who ever wore it.

You placed a kiss on his cheek and chuckled as his eyes flashed up bluish for a few seconds.

*hey.

"Thank you" you offered him the slice of pie "Here, I'll share what little I have with you."

*oh, thank you. As Toriel said, bone appetite.

Snorting you shook your head. You could see as his smile becoming wider.

"Appetite." Even the very last lampions disappeared up in the sky. You didn't even notice that you sighed softly.

*hm? everything is all right?

You nodded, but you couldn’t even convince yourself with that weak response.

*(Y/N)?

His voice was much more serious now, that was enough to make you talk even though you couldn't look at him.

"I just..." you folded your arms in frustration "ah, I'm sorry, Its…I think I'm jealous."

*jealous?

Sans handed you a bite of cake. You looked at the cookie in confusion.

"Sans…" You chuckled gently and placed a kiss on his cheek before you looked into his eyes.

"Well, you know, I'm not as good at puns like you and Toriel, and you two are so comfortable together." You rubbed your neck. "And sometimes I remember what you told me about how you met. How well you two were getting along, even after you have been freed from down there… And, I don't know...I know, I just know." You looked down at him in silence.

In response, the skeleton just set the food aside and leaned gently against you.

In the sky, the last late coming streak of light disappeared and only the stars remained.

*welp, Tori may know a few good jokes, but in the past we couldn't really have anything else to pass the time with

You gently caressed the bones of his hand.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. It's just, ah... stupid, I'm sorry."

Sans hummed slowly, thinking for a while.

*you're really are different, and you may not love my great humor, but you accepted the cat my brother wanted to save, but had no place with us.

"Well, I just wanted to help... and it was about staying with me temporarily, but Spot and I soon get used to each other really quickly."

*you also ate a plate of Papyrus's spaghetti.

"The combination of egg ketchup and bacon was a new flavor in spaghetti, but it turned out quite tasty for me"

*you got along with the kid right away too.

"Frisk is a very kind and intelligent kid who loves fantasy tales, so we had a lot to talk about."

*and it didn't bother you that I slept all night on the couch while Papyrus occupied your bed.

"Okay," you shook your head with a small sigh. "At that night I was just really embarrassed and you two were very cute and I didn’t want to be rude and also you looked very tired. Moving into the city is really exhausting after all. "

*and in addition to these, you even tolerate my horrible jokes, it's a miracle that I didn't end up with you sooner.

You tried to ignore your burning and blushing face, holding a small bite of the pie in front of Sans mouth. He chuckled and accepted and left you a few moments to calm your fiercely beating heart.

"Well...well, um..."

*hm? splendid pie.

"I'm glad, and well," you cleared your throat, "well you can say, we are pear-fect for each other." You looked aside "because the pie... so you mean...pear...I'm so bad at this, I'm sorry."

*damn i love ya so much.

Sans suddenly hugged you tightly and hid his face in your clothes.

You needed a few moments to gather yourself. You gently hugged him back and kissed the top of his skull. You were sure that that your heart was beating so fast that he could feel it clearly.

"I love you too."

For you, the glittering light of the stars was nothing compared to the blue shine of by Sans' heart.

[chipzle]

Based on the drawings by @zl3ruh

This has been in the works for a while because I was trying to get more chapters written but that just didn't happen. This is really bad; I don't tend to write that much.

Enjoy :)

Steven awoke, snuggled amongst the many fluffy blankets around him. The light from his window pierced through the places that the blinds did not cover, almost blinding him as his eyes flickered open. I was a hot June day and the sun had risen above the glistening sea a few hours ago.

At his feet, sat a pristine white and ginger feline, Cat Steven. The boy sat up and petted her soft, velvet fur. She let out a purr of glee as he did so. He placed his other to his chin in a form of concentration. He knew there was something to do but was extremely unsure. What was on today's agenda?

There were no colonies to liberate.

There were no armies to disband.

There were no corrupted gems to heal.

So why did Steven have the feeling that today was significant?

Pulling back the almost infinite amount of covers, he finally decided to stop thinking about it and just get out of bed. He tiredly stumbled over to his wardrobe and skimmed through it, searching for his usual jeans, jacket and star shirt. He noticed an abnormal item in his casual clothing; A grey and green blazer. He carefully lifted it out.

Realisation flooded over him like a tidal wave...

Today was Steven's first day at UA!

He shot his head round to look at his cookie cat clock.

Lessons began in 10 minutes!

As quickly as he could, Steven yanked on his school Uniform, grabbed the cheeseburger backpack he had packed the night before and dashed out of the door almost destroying the hinges as he ran to his late mother's old pet, a lion!

"Lion!" he exclaimed, as the pink big cat padded towards him. Steven had never known what his mother had named this abnormally coloured cat so he had just decided on a literal name instead. He loved literal naming, just like his home.

"Hey. Sorry, I'm in a hurry. Could you take me to school please?"

Lion lowered his body downwards a little so that Steven could climb on his back with much more ease before sprinting off onto the ocean. The sea became solid beneath his soft but strong paws.

He let out a ferocious roar that manifested into a swirling pink and white portal in front of them.

Once on the other side of the portal, they were greeted by the world around them. Japan looked nothing like Beach City. Lion lay down to rest as Steven affectionately patted his head, showing his gratitude.

There was no time to waste. Steven bolted into the front entrance and through the halls.

Class 1-A

Class 1-A

Where was it?!

Steven skidded to a halt after running around the maze-like hallways when he saw before him the sign that showed his classroom he was so desperately searching for. The room was buzzing. A boy with spiky red hair and one with spiky blonde were in the middle of a heated argument, Some girls were busy chatting away in the corner and a group consisting of a boy with green hair, a boy with dark blue hair and a girl with brown hair were too. Steven shyly took an empty space at the back.

"Making friends can come later. I need to get used to school first." He quietly mumbled to himself for reassurance. From what Connie had told him, he knew it would be a very new experience for him. Steven doubted that he had ever sat still for more than 10 minutes. Besides, he had never been to a local school, let alone a foreign one.

Hopefully, language wouldn't be too much of a problem. Pearl had spent the last month teaching him the basics he would need to begin with: classroom language, conversational language, common phrases and of course, manners.

At the front of the class, a strange man with long black hair, wearing dark clothes and a white, tape-like scarf around his neck emerged from a yellow sleeping bag. His sudden appearance silenced the students as they rushed to their seats.

"Ok then," the man began in a low, monotone voice, "Welcome back to another week at UA."

Steven could get the general idea of what the man was saying. Clearly, this was a teacher.

"Also," The teacher continued, "We have a new student here today."

He guested across the classroom towards Steven.

Everyone turned to look at the boy.

Within seconds he was surrounded. People swarmed him with greetings ranging from "Hey there!" to "Hey newbie" to "My name is...".

"Sit down!" The teacher called out, waiting for the teenagers to shoot back to their seats before continuing in his usual robotic tone, "Poor kid. Probably can't understand a thing you're all saying. The boy's American."

The class let out a collective sigh of understanding and a few shot apologetic looks at the half-human.

The teacher lazily proceeded, "As I was going to say," He gestured towards Steven again, "This is Steven Universe. He was accepted into the hero program through recommendation."

Some heads turned to him after this. Some with anger. He mainly noticed a boy with white and red hair with a scar down the left side of his face and a boy who had been shouting at his class-so called - mate.

Steven had tried to keep his head down throughout the rest of his lessons to not draw too much attention to himself. However, this was difficult as people were still staring so hard that they could practically see his soul. It didn't bother him. He was just the new kid. The fact that he didn't speak fluent Japanese only made it more interesting to everyone else.

Now, Steven was entering the canteen. It was lunchtime.

A myriad of students was scattered across the tables in such a way that he would have to sit next to one inevitably. Scanning the room, he spotted the group of two boys and a girl that he had noticed at the beginning of homeroom.

With his head down, Steven made his way towards the table they were sitting at. Remaining silent, he sat beside the broccoli boy and pulled the lunch that Pearl had packed for him out of his bag. She had been very excited to make it. Even though she didn't find 'consuming edible substances' enjoyable, she did find some fascination in the way humans prepared it.

Steven was pulled out of his thoughts when the girl gently tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey... Um, Steven." She began slowly to make it easier for him to understand her, "I'm Ochako." She said as she pointed to the boy next to him, "That's Izuku, " She finishes by hugging the one with dark blue hair. "And this is Iida!"

Steven smiled and nodded, his mouth too full to reply.

"Uh... So you got in through recommendation, huh?"

She asked, a little quicker this time, "What's your quirk?"

He paused to swallow.

"I don't think he doesn't understand that Urakka san... sorry... Steven " Izuku jutted in before he could reply.

"No, no, it's not that" Steven informed him politely, "I do. I was just y'know... eating."

"Oh," Izuku went red with embarrassment, "Sorry. That's my bad, continue." He pulled out a medium-sized notebook.

"It's ok. Uh... what's a quirk?" Steven questioned awkwardly.

The three gaped in a mixture of shock and confusion.

"It's your ability, power if you will." Tenya replied waving his hand rapidly in a robotic style.

"Well, all of my powers come from my gem." Steven lifted his shirt, revealing the pink diamond embedded in his stomach where his belly button should be "It used to be my Mother's." he explained, slightly embarrassed.

"So what can you do?" Ochako asked, shifting excitedly her seat.

"Well for starters," Steven summoned his shield, "But there are a few other things I can do."

"Like what?! " She said, still amazed by the glimmering shield that had just disintegrated before her.

"Well, I can do normal gem stuff like shapeshifting, fusion and bubbling."

"Whoa! That sounds really powerful." Ochako gasped, Iida stared in amazement and Izuku wrote down every word that poured out of Steven's mouth.

The four of them spent the rest of lunch introducing themselves and their quirks. They were deep in conversation by the time the bell rang signalling the end of lunch and all walked off to their next lesson.

Just imagine that there's a bit more of a language barrier. I can't be bothered to write all that. They can basically understand each other. Of course, Steven's Japanese will get better over time.

[patricianandclerk]

Chez Bernice Lodging House

Montparnasse, Paris

I don’t know the date, dearest, but it is some time past noon, and the lilacs are blooming splendidly. I am sure, as last I was, that the year remains 1922.

My dear and beloved Ginger,

I write to you from the desk at my lodging house, wherein I shall stay another few weeks, at least, and if not, I shall leave them with a forwarding address, that your next reply should be delivered unto me with the greatest of alacrity. How I ache for your next word, when we are gone from one another, even now – I do like Paris immensely, but her embrace is a paltry ghost of yours, my love, and I should have your arms about me once more, as soon as my work here is done.

Mr Fell and Mr Crowley are visiting here, and Mr Fell tells me when I send my letter that he’ll do his strange bit of working on the parchment of my envelope – I know not what it is he does, nor what connections he draws upon, but he has a way of ensuring no letter is opened and read, nor even looked at strangely, as it makes its way upon its journey, except by its intended recipient. Is that not strange? I think it marvellously so, but such is the way of Mr Fell, as long as it has been. He is the proprietor of that bookshop, you know the one, with those two floors, and the spiral staircase that has hanging baskets hanging from its every step, hosting such splendid, viridian plants? Strawberries grow from that stair come springtime, you know, and it is owing to Anthony’s – that is to say, Mr Crowley’s, but the spirit does rebel at calling him Mr overmuch, for one gets the sense that he is smug about such things – paternal care of the things, for he waters them and feeds them, and I thought for such a time that he spoke to them as some men do, but Mr Fells tells me that actually, he whispers to them vile threats.

Oh, I do hope you remember them, Ginger – you’ve met them in passing each twice before, but my remarks will make so little sense if you’ve forgotten them. Mr Fell – Ezra the name he gives, although his initials are A.Z. – is a portly fellow some ways shorter than me, with round cheeks and eyes that are the hue of the sea in a watercolour painting (you know, husband, what I mean, I hope? That sort of blue-green, rendered dainty by the sun?), and he has blond hair that is lank but somehow rather charming, long strands that he draws back from his face. He wears spectacles, at times, these crescent-shaped things on golden frames that do naught to encourage a youthful reading of his features, but those features are, I will assure you, most well-preserved – the only lines that show on him are the happy crinkles at his eyes, and the furrow in his brow he gets when he reads, which is, of course, very often. He keeps such wonderful hands, you know, and he has taught me all a manicurist would never. Mr Crowley is a tall fellow, gangling in an infuriatingly graceful manner, and with such a handsome face that upon meeting him, one is usually agog for a few moments before one remembers that, much as he looks as one, he isn’t an artistic exhibit – it’s quite strange, you know, for often I find myself finding in his features some curious dimple or movement of the face I have seen in a painting or a sculpture of which I am fond, and yet how his face moves, how expressionate it is! Oh, he is handsome, Ginger, but in the most uncanny way, so much so that it does rather unsettle one, if one lingers on the thought too often. He is possessed of rather too much muscle, which clings to his skinny frame as if he is packing it to smuggle, and he always wears these sunglasses, for he is possessed of a strange condition of the eye. Dark hair, always windswept, but in a somewhat dashing way.

Reading this back, I rather worry it seems I might be in love with Anthony, but you must understand he is quite unbearable, and a wreck of nerves, besides his marriage to Mr Fell, and while he is handsome, that handsomeness is strange and eldritch, in its way, as if it ought perhaps be locked away rather than cooed over, as is my usual wont.

Oh, Ginger, you do remember them, you must.

In any case, I am taken away with them in turns. They are so dreadfully in love, and it makes me pang for the want of you, so far from me, you know. I don’t believe I have ever seen a pair of souls so utterly bound up with one another, and it rather takes me away to see them: they rather treat me as if I am some beloved nephew of theirs, or perhaps a son they have recently come into possession of, although this has always been their manner with me. I rather think that this is Mr Fell’s manner with every young fellow of a certain bent, if you take my meaning, for he is a great patron of the Hyacinth and Vine, that gentlemen’s club on Portland Place, and I rather think he oft has his angel’s wings spread out for young gay fellows to gather under, as if he is an umbrella against the coming storm. He is an angel, in many a way, and so too is his husband: I cannot name a time where we came into contact and he did not bail me out of some spot of trouble, and Anthony is so cruel to policemen, he must be a saint to all with a heart in defiance of the law. I should be rather seduced by religion, if the figures were a bit more like Mr Fell and his young beau, and less with all this business with priests and sacraments and so on.

In any case, I think often on you, when I see them together.

Oh, my love, to think that we might be like that, at one time, together, bound up forever. It is in the way they treat each other, you see, in the little soft mannerisms of a life together.

I asked Mr Fell how they met, and he said to me, “Oh, well, you know, it was… We were both working, and I was guarding the door, er, I suppose I was a receptionist, or something, something like that, and Anthony, he’d done something a bit thick, you know, as is his way. And he sort of crept up to me and rather startled me, but he accosted me with the most enticing small talk – you know, dear boy, about the work, but about the weather, and about philosophy… And it was beginning to rain, so I put out my— We shared an umbrella, and you know, fiendish creature that he is, he came so much closer than he needed to.”

“Did you love him,” I asked, “even then?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, and his watery eyes seemed to sparkle with seafoam, and for a moment I fancied he was a thousand years away from me, frolicking in some place with Anthony in his arms. “Oh, yes, dear boy, I always rather did.”

Oh, they are so superbly in love with one another that it makes one most angry at them. They seem so happy, do you know? One must hate those who are so deeply happy that they find themselves quite unconcerned with the happiness of others…

I have watched Mr Fell with Anthony, and oh, how he besets upon him: he fusses over his clothes and his hair, reaches up to comb it properly, or to adjust his tie or the set of his waistcoat. Several times, I have watched him reach over to remove things from Anthony’s pockets, and use them as casually as he might use his own; he always orders the wine, for Anthony knows little about such things, and he tells Anthony the history of every bottle he touches, and Anthony looks at him with his lips parted and such devotion painted on his face, and surely in his eyes, although I could not see them to judge by. He often asks Anthony if he is too cold, although the weather here is very fine, and sometimes I believe Anthony says yes merely that Mr Fell will fuss over him, and fuss he does: he will draw off his own jacket or his scarf and set it about Anthony’s shoulders, and draw him close to embrace him, that he might share the heat of his body! I don’t know that I have ever seen a fellow cup another man’s cheek with such tenderness as Mr Fell cups Anthony’s, nor seen a man lean so gracefully into another’s palm, that he might bestow a kiss upon his wrist.

I asked Anthony how they met, and he told me, “Well, the first time, it was in this garden, and it was… You couldn’t imagine it, this garden, but it was beautiful. Verdant, luscious, with fruit heavy in the trees and flowers in a meadow on the ground, and I’d had the worst of days, the worst day that had ever been, so far – that I’d ever had, er, I mean, that I’d ever had – and I looked at him at the gate and he just looked so…” He took off his sunglasses, presently, and laid them upon his thigh, and I saw his eyes, which are so very serpentine, when one sees them like this – they are a sort of bright yellow, and the pupil has some manner of coloboma, or something like it, so that on each side they are rather like the eyes of a cat, or a snake. Now, they were misted with memory. “He’s never been handsome, you know. Not… Not like you think of it, he’s not that sort of man. Even if you put a handsome face on him, he’d make it less handsome, just by living in it, you know? But I looked at him, and I thought, oh, don’t you fit in with all this fruit, and all this grass, and all these flowers? Aren’t you a juicy, delicious thing, waiting to be plucked and eaten, and then I got closer, and I… Miles, young man—” (He often calls me young man, although I don’t know that I am so much younger than he is, and yet at times I think he is unutterably old and merely hides the evidence from his face.) “Have you ever seen a fruit on a tree, and it looked so perfect, just the right colour, with the light hitting it right, and so perfectly ripe you couldn’t bear to pull it down?”

“Oh, yes,” I said.

“He was like that,” Anthony said, and he looked so immensely happy that I nearly burst into tears.

Oh, if Mr Fell pays his court to Anthony, now, although they’ve been happily together such years, he pays it back a thousandfold. You should see the way he dotes on this fellow, pays for everything, but the way he looks at Mr Fell as if he is the world and a half, as if he is so immensely beautiful and wonderful and perfect, and he says it all!

He calls him “angel” and whispers in his ear, and brings him such gifts and presents, and kisses him and touches him, holds his hands and kisses his knuckles… He orders his meals, you know, and he eats so little, Mr Crowley, but he always orders desert for himself and only eats a bite, and then slides the rest over to Mr Fell so that he might have two, and isn’t that the most darling thing you’ve ever heard? Isn’t it so awfully lovely?

Oh, my heart is full of them, Ginger – I wish I could be similarly full of you.

Do write me soon, my dearest, my only one, for my heart longs for your handsome hand upon the page (almost as much as I long for it in my own).

Yours (and only yours, always),

Miles

[the-werdna]

As promised, here is the first of the several Robin x Lucina oneshots I am going to be writing in the near future. You can find the whole thing linked above, or in the cut bellow.

Title: Shopping

Description: To say Lucina’s fashion sense is an “acquired taste” would be an understatement to say the very least. However, Robin doesn’t seem to really mind. Why would it, when seeing his wife happy is everything he could ask for?

“Robin, what do you think of this one?” 

The tactician turned towards his wife, taking care to be just a tad slower than usual to brace himself for what he knew would come next.

“Well, I think it would certainly suit you. Very understated,” Robin commented, smiling as he gazed upon the very much not-at-all-understated bright lime green blouse Lucina was holding up triumphantly. The color alone would have been quite garish, to say the least, though that was hardly the only thing that made it an eyesore. No, the yellow polka dots and the layered pink and purple frills around the sleeves and collar certainly didn’t do it any favors in that regard.

Yet that was to be expected, given his wife’s–let’s call it “particular” taste in apparel. It was something he’d gotten very used to over the years they’d been together.

“Truly? I was worried that it may be a little too bright. But if you think it suits me, then it must be perfect for me,” Lucina proclaimed, visibly delighted by his answer. Her eyes sparkled with joy, simmering in the afternoon light streaming in through the shop’s windows, her teeth flashing in a beaming smile. Such was the radiance of her happiness that Robin too couldn’t help but smile all the brighter, sharing in his wife’s joy.

When he’d first beheld the fruits of Lucina’s fashion sense, he’d been quite horrified. But then, seeing how happy she’d been; the sheer childlike joy she’d held in a true smile that had been all-too-rare for her...  he’d known that he’d do everything in his power to make sure she could keep smiling like that. And if that meant putting up with her more tacky choices in apparel, whether that be going out in public with his wife dressed in the clothes she bought or he himself wearing clothes she’d picked for him, he’d gladly suffer it all to see her truly happy. 

“I’ll go try it on! Then when I return we can pick something out for you to wear!” Lucina promised, leaving him there as she hurried off to the store’s changing room. 

.  . .  . .

True to her word she returned moments later, having swapped out her tunic for the blouse. Paired with her other clothes, it somehow seemed even more garish to Robin’s eyes. Not that it mattered to him. Even if wearing the ugliest outfit imaginable, Lucina would still appear to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Still, he had no time to really ponder the fact much longer, as Lucina began to furiously search the wracks of clothing for something for him to try on.

“Oh, how about this one?” Lucina asked, holding up a multi-colored scarf with a repeating fish pattern.

“I… I certainly like it, though, isn't it a bit too early to be looking at winter clothes? Summer has barely begun,” Robin replied, trying his best not to make excuses. He’d gladly wear it if she insisted, of course, but if he could avoid it without upsetting her…

Thankfully it did not come to that, Lucina nodding piercing. “Of course, how careless of me. I should be looking for something you can wear now! Let me see… Oh! Is this more to your liking?” She returned the scarf, pulling out a shimmery red tunic for him to try next. 

.  . .  . .

Half an hour later the two exited the shop, Lucina still clad in her now purchased blouse while Robin carried the bag containing the cat-patterned robe he’d eventually settled on. While a distant part of him still dreaded having to wear the thing at some point, the thought wasn’t of much concern at that moment. No, getting to spend time with the woman he loved was too great a reward for it the dampen his mood.

“Where to next?” Lucina asked, beaming back at him as they began to stroll through the town square. She reached out, taking his hand in his. “Perhaps we can stop at that bakery you enjoy? Oh, or we could finally try that tea shop at the edge of town! The one that Inigo recommended to us, you recall?

“I do,” Robin confirmed, nodding. “I’m certainly willing, so long as you want to.”

“I see no reason not to,” Lucina agreed, a bubbly laugh followed as she tugged on his hand, pulling him forward. “Come. Let us go then. Before the day grows later!”

Or maybe they would just continue to enjoy each other's company as they strolled along at each other's side. 

Robin’s own laughter joined Lucina’s as he fell in alongside her. Despite her words urging haste, neither of them moved all that quickly. Late in the afternoon as it was, they still had plenty of time. Enough at least for a more leisurely walk through the bustling town in which they could simply enjoy each other's company. 

Even so, as they walked along hand in hand, Robin couldn’t help but notice the occasional stares they got from the townsfolk, most aimed at Lucina and her new outfit. Not that it was unexpected. Such reactions were something he’d gotten used to at this point: just the extra attention he needed to bear for the sake of his wife’s happiness. Thankfully Lucina always seemed to be blissfully unaware of the looks she was getting, something Robin was glad for. So long as the looks remained nothing more than longer than usual glances, then he knew there was no danger of it hurting his love’s feelings.

It was then however that his eyes were drawn to a group of young girls, looking to be no older than their late teens, coming down the opposite side of the road. Unlike the other townsfolk, when the girls noticed the blouse Lucina was wearing they did more than merely stare. They came to a complete stop, gawking as the garish design. 

One girl even pointing towards her, jeering, while another of her friends sneered some snide remark behind a covered hand. Snickering giggles from the other girls soon followed whatever comment had been made at Lucina’s expense.

Robin’s eyes narrowed, his lips pursing into a deep scowl.

As he and Lucina passed them, Robin turned to glare at the girls. It lasted only a moment, Robin being careful only to do so while Lucina wasn’t looking as to not draw his wife’s attention to the group’s jeering... But it was enough. The girls blanched at his look of raw, unmitigated fury, quickly turning away and hurrying along the road at an even quicker pace than the one they’d taken before stopping. Good, better run, Robin thought, feeling the flicker of anger simmering back down to a mere ember. Of the few things that could get him truly angry, the thought of anyone taking away the moments of joy that his wife so deserved…

Let’s just say it was a particularly personal insult.

“Robin?” Lucina asked, the tactician only then realizing he’d slowed and continued to stare down the street long after the rude group of teenagers had vanished from view amongst the crowds.

“Sorry. I got distracted and zoned out for a moment,” he assured her, smiling as he squeezed her hand before resuming their leisurely pace.

"I hope I'm not boring you by dragging all over the place," Lucina said, her smile fading a small bit. 

Robin shook his head fiercely. "Don't be silly, Lucina. I want to be here. Always." He squeezed her hand tighter.

"Oh, good. I am glad, Robin. Truly," Lucina said, her smile returning in full.

As they walked Robin found himself recalling the day he’d confessed his love for her. That was the day he’d first seen her smile in joy as she clutched the flowers he’d given her, all of her worries, fears, and the weight of her duty washing away if only for that brief moment. It was then that he realized how much he wanted to see her smile like that again. After all, she suffered and sacrificed, no one in the world deserved happiness more than her. 

Robin twirled his wedding band around his finger, feeling the grooves of the floral pattern that adorned both his and her rings. It was a physical reminder of that promise. Of how no matter what the future held for them both, it was her happiness that he put above all else.

It was then that Robin felt lips brush against his cheek, Lucina leaning in suddenly to plant a quick, yet tender, kiss upon his face.

“Um, I… What was that for?” Robin asked, touching the spot with his free hand as he felt his cheeks flush. Even after years of being married, public shows of affection were still something he wasn’t entirely comfortable with yet. 

“I wanted to thank you, Robin. For agreeing to come with me today,” Lucina smiled, a soft, joy-filled laugh escaping her lips. “I know it's something so silly and simple, hardly worthy of thanks. But it still means so much to have you here with me.”

“Ah,” Robin intoned, feel his face tug into an even deeper smile. Now it was his turn to publicly affirm his affection for her, returning her kiss with one of his own upon her lips. A small gasp escaped Lucina, but it was short-lived, her free hand moving quickly to cup the side of his face and hold him into a more drawn out kiss. Then a moment later Robin pulled away, placing his own hand against the side of her face, drawn into the sheer joy held in the expression staring back at him. 

“No, it’s me who should be thanking you, Lucina. Seeing you happy is everything I could ask for. It's all that I’ve ever wanted.”