#oh poppy how healing it is to give you pretty dresses

[soosoosoup]

✨💖Pop👊Pop👊 Poppy💖✨✨

[k-evans-reads]

The Outsider

Chapter 6- Part 2

Summary: Princess Penelope of the Isle of Brida has been forced into an arranged marriage with the heir to the throne, Prince Chris, of Queensnorth. What starts out as a contemptuous relationship may not stay that way.

Pairing: Prince!Chris Evans X OFC Princess Penelope “Poppy”

Word Count: 8,558

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: 18+.

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5 months married, the following morning

The sound of multiple approaching footsteps echoed through the large, yet all but empty private wing, as the owners moved down the hallway. Then, several pairs stopped, leaving a single set to continue moving as the door to Chris and Poppy’s private suite opened. “Hey Pop, you in here?” Poppy heard Chris call, unable to see him until he moved further into the sitting room, poking his head around the corner and searching for her.

“I’ve been stuck here for a week, I think you know I’m here,” she replied, rolling her eyes lightly as she watched his face appear in her line of sight, smiling as his face broke into a grin. He shut the door to the hall behind him, giving them some semblance of privacy although Poppy knew a number of guards, and likely Michael, stood just beyond the closed door.

“Tone down the sass and close your eyes,” he called as he turned back around, deliberately only letting his face be seen by her.

She furrowed her brows, staring at him in confusion and slight apprehensiveness. “Close my eyes?”

“You heard me, close your eyes. I have a surprise for you,” he nodded, staring at her until she did as he asked.

“Okay, they’re closed,” she sighed.

She heard the door to her room shut slowly behind him as he, apparently, made it through the doorway, Poppy only aware of his movements thanks to the clack of his dress shoes against the floor. She did as he asked, keeping her green eyes closed while she felt the bed dip from his weight as he sat down.

“Can I open my eyes yet?”

He barked out a laugh, Poppy imagining he was likely shaking his head at her question. “Damn, you’re so impatient! Just hold on.”

Poppy felt the weight of something being placed in her lap on top of the thick quilt before Chris’ low voice instructed her, “Alright, you can open your eyes now.”

She didn’t know what she expected, but when her eyes fluttered open and she saw a soft and tiny gray kitten, she knew that she certainly didn’t expect that. Chris sat on the edge of the bed, a huge grin on his face while he watched Poppy’s expression burst into pure joy, her green eyes sparkling and her smile shone from ear to ear.

“A kitten!” She cooed, her jaw dropping in shock as she watched the kitten stretch out on her lap, nuzzling the quilt. “Oh my god Chris! Where did you-wait, where is he from? What is he doing here?”

“He’s yours,” he shrugged, and out of the corner of her eye she could see a slightly cocky, but likely more happy and pleased smile on his face as he watched Poppy with the kitten.

“Mine?”

He nodded again, leaning on his side as he watched them and Poppy shifted her eyes to look at him. “Yeah, I thought you could use some more company while you’re still healing. This little guy seemed like he’d make pretty good company,”

Poppy nodded, not even realizing how lonely she’d been without his constant company while he’d been in unavoidable meetings in the past week. Although he hadn’t told her much, keeping details sparse, he always seemed to return tense, stressed, and slightly exhausted. She didn’t know if it was because of something that was going on work-wise or if it was him worrying over her, but she’d noticed. “Chris, I love him! He’s so precious!”

“I’m glad you like him,” he grinned, a small look, one she’d grown to love, on his face as he jutted his chin out towards her. “I was hoping I’d get that smile from you.”

Poppy reached out to grab the sleeve of Chris’ shirt, tugging him so that he came to lean over her, allowing their lips to connect for a sweet kiss. They only parted when they heard a tiny meow and Chris sat back up while Poppy stroked the kitten’s fur. The pair just sat there, laughing and watching while the kitten walked around on Poppy’s lap before finding a loose string on the quilt that it pounced on, making the couple laugh.

They kept watching the little gray fluffy kitten walk around on the bed, climbing on Chris, checking out it’s new surroundings before eventually coming to curl up on Poppy’s lap, bringing a smile to her face. With their entertainment gone for the moment, Chris went over to grab one of the chairs, pulling it over next to Poppy’s bedside so he could occupy the spot he’d frequented the past week.

“You don’t have work to do?” She asked him quietly, watching as he settled into his place, in the chair she’d begun to think of as his exclusively, at her bedside.

“I’ll do it later. I’d rather be here right now.”

Poppy watched as Chris slipped off his shoes before sitting down in the chair, leaning back and propping his feet up on the bed next to Poppy’s hip. She leaned back against the pillows propping her up, her eyes still focused on Chris as he tugged at his tie until it came loose and he tossed it on the bed and then rolled up the sleeves, tugged his shirt from where it tucked into his pants, and pulled open the top few buttons on his white shirt.

She loved being able to see his beautiful chest hair poking out through the top of his shirt where he’d pulled the buttons open and his thick muscular forearms that were revealed. Poppy took in his long legs stretched out and smiled softly when his sock covered feet gently, but slightly demandingly, pushed at her hip to get her attention. As handsome as he was all the time, Poppy liked seeing him this way. Getting to see him at ease and fully himself, loving that he always felt like he could fully relax when he was with her.

“How did everything go this morning?”

“Eh, just the same,” he shrugged a slight frown on his face. “I have to go up north tonight though to visit some people. I tried to get out of it with you still being laid up but it’s pretty important.”

“When will you be back?” She asked, a sinking feeling in her as she realized he’d be gone for longer than they’d been apart in a long time. They’d spent every moment, virtually, over the last month and a half together, and it was a hard adjustment to suddenly make.

“I think tomorrow, but this little guy better keep you company while I’m gone,” he grinned, eyes looking fondly at the small cat in her lap. “What are you going to name him anyway?”

Poppy tilted her head, staring at the kitten contemplatively. “I’m not sure… maybe I’ll call it Fluffy,”

“Are you shitting me? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“Fine! What would you name it?”

“Well… I don’t know, but something better than fuckin’ ‘Fluffy’, that’s for damn sure,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “How about Hank?”

“Hank?! That’s terrible!” She groaned with a sour look on her face. “No, you said it’s my cat so I’m naming it Fluffy.”

“Fine, stick with your stupid name.”

“Thank you, I will.”

“Still a stupid name though,” he shrugged, a smirk on his lips as he purposely egged her on.

“You know what? Fuck you,” she shot back, shaking her head.

“I’d enjoy that,” he shrugged simply again, holding his arms behind his head as he leaned back, snickering quietly.

“Well once the doctor clears me, I think you still have a promise to keep.”

“Oh don’t worry, I don’t break a promise,” he drawled, his long legs kicking open as he got more comfortable in the chair, revealing his thick, muscular thighs and trim waist.

“I hope not,” Poppy breathed, watching him as he settled into the chair, feeling a heat inside of her. She smirked slightly as she looked back up at him, seeing the same expression on his face and knowing they were thinking about the same exact thing, and counting down the days until the doctor returned so she could get clear, because they had one thing on their minds.

Chris cleared his throat, looking away slightly as he blushed under her gaze. “Hey, have you used that new sketchbook I got you yet?”

“Oh I already filled up about half of it,” she chuckled, biting her lip as she reached to get it from her nightstand. “Do you want to see my drawings?”

“Fuck yeah I do,” he grinned, leaning forwards to see.

“C’mere.”

Chris followed her instruction as she patted the empty spot next to her and he climbed into bed gingerly, careful not to jostle her sore body or wake the sleeping kitten in her lap. Once he settled in next to her, one hand behind his head and the other resting on his stomach, he watched as she slowly flipped the pages of her sketchbook, showing him each drawing that he took in. He saw her cheeks filling with a deep blush as he praised each one, pointing out specific things he was amazed at.

He couldn’t believe how different Poppy’s attitude about her art was since the first time he’d seen it. She now proudly showed him her creations, letting his praise soak in and letting it warm her. Chris had grown up surrounded by duty, seeing things so black and white and straightforward. But being with Poppy had let him see life so differently.

When she first came, she was so cold and closed off, always looking afraid when he said more than two words for her. He completely understood why she had been that way and he still felt guilt over not making it better for her. But things were so different now. He had gotten to truly know who Poppy was deep inside and found that in the same way she brought color, beauty and life to her blank canvases, she brought those same things to his life. Poppy had brought warmth and affection to him, supporting him in a way he hadn’t felt before. He thought about how when she walked in a room how there was a comfort in the air just from her presence. In a place that made it hard to shut off from work mode and focus on being himself, she made it easy.

Chris’ blue eyes drifted from her drawings to look at her face, just watching as she talked about the drawing she was pointing to, laughing about how the bird she drew looked more like a mouse. He was only half listening, too lost not only looking at her incredible beauty but realizing that she brought nothing but beauty to his life. She made everything more wonderful, more touching, more tender. He thought back to the meeting where his father informed him of the arranged marriage and could recall how he felt sick, not even being able to hardly recall the princess at all. Chris wished he could somehow go back and tell himself that although it didn’t seem like at the time, that was going to be the best thing that ever happened to him.

There was an unspoken truth in his heart that he’d been feeling for a while but couldn’t seem to hold it in any longer and quietly whispered, “I love you.”

“What?” Poppy said quickly, her head turning to look at him, shock in her eyes.

“I said I love you,” he repeated quietly, eyes searching hers. Poppy felt herself almost stop existing at the words, at the simple words that fell so easily from his mouth. The ones she’d never thought she’d hear, not now, not in sixty years, and not even four months ago.

“You love me?” She whispered, looking up at him as tears filled her eyes.

“I love you so much, Poppy,” he nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “And I hope you know I mean it. I’m not saying that because we’re married or I feel like I have to. I truly love you from the bottom of my heart.”

She nodded, taking in his words. It wasn’t that she never imagined she could ever grow to love Chris, especially not after the last month with all the strides they’d made. It was that no one had ever honestly said those three words to her in a way that was genuine, not to placate, manipulate, or deceive her. And with Chris? She knew it was genuine, that he loved her, and she couldn’t help but finally realize that love was the emotion she’d been feeling lately towards him. She felt it when she watched him grin at her early every morning, before he slipped out to meet his father and Michael for a rundown of the day. She felt it every afternoon as he ran in to see her, even if just for a moment, so he could peck her cheek and tell her he’d see her later. She felt it when they talked for hours after sharing dinner together, before curling around each other peacefully in bed. She loved him. With every part of her.

She swallowed, gently lifting Fluffy out of her lap and placing him towards the foot of the bed. Once she was sure Fluffy was settled and wouldn’t bother them, she reached for Chris, pulling him onto her as she wrapped herself around him, burying her face into his shoulder as tears sprung from her eyes.

Her voice was so soft, almost so soft that Chris wouldn’t have heard it if every bit of his attention hadn’t been on her, clinging onto him as she whispered, “I love you.”

She felt a shaky exhale leave his body as he heard the words, kisses being planted on the top of her head as they reached that new level, the defining moment in their relationship thus far. Wiping her tears quickly as she pulled her head out of his shoulder, she met his emotional blue eyes, whispering “I love you so much, Chris,” and watched the physical reaction he had to those words, the way they made him grow so much and filled him with confidence and reassurance, before he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers.

Neither one could possibly describe the intimacy of the moment, how beautiful it felt being wrapped up in each other’s arms feeling overflowing with adoration for one another. Over the duration of the tour, they had gotten used to coming back to the hotel each night, kissing one another until their lips were swollen before falling asleep in each other's arms. But with Poppy’s injury, the physical closeness and affection they had grown so accustomed to had been impossible. But right now, the loving words swimming in their heads while their bodies lacked any space between them was just what they needed.

A sharp knock echoed through the suite before footsteps sounded in the sitting room, one of Chris’ guards calling through the closed door of Poppy’s room to them. “Your Majesties? The train for His Royal Highness is departing soon."

He pulled off her lips at the interruption, leaning his head on her collarbone as he caught his breath. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“Your Majesty?” The guard called again, sounding as though he’d moved closer to Poppy’s closed door since he first interrupted them.

“I’m coming,” Chris called back loudly, sighing again as he pushed himself up and off of Poppy, seated on the side of her bed as he raked a hand through his hair, trying to gather himself before he had to face anyone else. Biting his lip, he glanced back at her while shaking his head, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s alright, it’s your duty,” she smiled sadly, rubbing her hand along his arm before he stood up, reaching to refill her water before he left.

“I would give anything to be able to stay here with you,” he confessed, before nodding towards Fluffy with a smirk, “But this cat better keep you company.”

“He has a name, remember?”

“Yeah, a fuckin’ stupid name,” he muttered, laughing loudly when Poppy’s face fell.

“Well Fluffy will be a nice companion while you’re gone,” she retorted. “Do you know when you’ll be back?”

“Not yet, but you know I’ll come back to you as soon as I can,” he frowned again, leaning down to peck her forehead before he paused, staring at her in thought.

“I know,” Poppy whispered as he leaned down, kissing her quickly before straightening up. “I love you Chris.”

“I love you too, my sweet Poppy,” he called, smiling as he turned and opened the door, following the guard out of the suite and leaving her.

Poppy laid in that bed, the soft kitten curled up next to her and silence filled the room once the clack of shoes against the wooden floor faded away. For one of the first times in her life, although she was alone, she didn’t feel lonely. Her heart was completely full as the words that Chris had spoken replayed in her mind over and over again. He loved her and that meant more to her than anything else.

2 Days Later

Poppy was suddenly aware of nothing but darkness, the moon casting shadows over the furniture in her room. She furrowed her brows, trying to figure out what had woken her up, but her initial answer was proven incorrect when she saw Fluffy curled up by her feet. Turning onto her opposite side, her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Chris’ frame from behind, obviously having just gotten in, dressed in a dress shirt and slacks still from the day before. He’d overshot his estimate of how long he’d been gone by a day, which Poppy hadn’t minded, she knew he had a lot on his plate at the moment and had put off so much to keep her company this past week. But she’d missed him so much, so so much, that it’d nearly hurt.

“Chris,” she called, sleep evident in her voice as she raised a hand towards the hazy outline of his body as she blinked the sleep from her eyes.

He paused at the sound of her voice, turning around and leaning against her wardrobe. “Did I wake you?”

“It’s worth it to get to see you,” she said softly, holding a hand out towards him, making grabbing gestures until he moved closer, kissing her forehead. At the action and sensation of his fluffy beard against her skin, Poppy realized he’d kissed her forehead earlier, causing her to wake up in the first place.

“How’s my baby?” He asked her quietly, sitting down on the side of her bed as he looked at her, almost trying to catalog any changes in the past two days.

Poppy smiled, reaching for and squeezing his hand. “Very happy that you’re home,” she smiled, her expression growing as one appeared on his face.

“I fuckin’ missed my girl,” he whispered, his thumb rubbing circles across the top of her slender hand that fit so well in his.

“I missed you so much. I’m so glad you’re home,” Poppy brought his hand up to her mouth, kissing the back of it lightly. “How did everything go?”

He shook his head, pecking her cheek before he pushed himself up, standing over her and tucking the quilt over her tightly. “I’ll tell you about it in the morning but it’s late, I want you to go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

Poppy settled into her pillows again, her blinks long as he slowly bent down again, kissing her much too quickly for her liking for how long they’d been apart, especially after their confessions. When he’d stood back up to his full height, she called quietly out to him. “Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you come here?”

At first he didn’t know exactly what she meant. He was already right next to her bed in the moonlight soaked bedroom, but when she reached out to touch her hand on the empty side of the bed next to her, it was obvious what she was asking. Poppy saw a sweet smile across his lips before he wordlessly walked around the bed to the empty side. She heard rustling as he peeled out of his clothes until he was down to his boxers and lifted the sheets, climbing in as gingerly as he could.

For some reason Poppy felt a little unsure, feeling like she wasn’t able to fully read him as he laid in the bed, empty space between them. Maybe he was just tired from his trip, or he was wound up over work things like he’d been for a while now, or maybe he was afraid of hurting her still healing body. But Poppy’s brain had been trained into telling her that she wasn’t worthy of the tender love and affection he so generously gave and now it was trying to convince her that he didn’t want to be near her. Maybe having spent time away from her, surrounded by other men of important stature and their arm candy, had made him realize that he was better off without her and climbing into bed with her was his way of placating her wishes.

As quickly as her thoughts came, they were wiped away when she felt his warm body scooting closer. The heat from his big hand radiated through her thin nightgown as his hand trailed across her stomach, hooking around her waist and pulling her gently until her back was flush up against his chest. Poppy’s eyes fluttered closed, drinking in the glorious feeling of his heavy muscular arm holding her tight and the smell of his musky scent, with the underlying smell of eucalyptus, filling her nose while he brought his face to nuzzle against the bend of her neck. A sigh of contentment spilled out of her pink lips into the quiet room as he placed a few tender kisses before whispering against her soft skin, “I love you, Poppy.”

And oh, those words that filled her up in a way she couldn’t describe. There had been so many moments over the past couple days she swore she had dreamed those glorious words. But here they were again, flowing in her ears while his beard prickled at her skin and his soft kisses soothed it. The darkness hid her beaming smile but Chris could figure out what she was feeling by the way her gentle hand came down to rest on top of his forearm that was hooked around her waist, squeezing it softly to communicate the intense feelings in her chest.

A soft hum vibrated against her skin where Chris gently was kissing before he laid his head down on the fluffy pillow, but kept her body tightly pressed against his, mumbling a soft, “My baby,” while squeezing her just a little tighter. And that one statement had her head spinning. She was his. She finally belonged somewhere, to someone in the most wonderful sense of the word. But he was also hers, and that thought had her feeling things in all sorts of ways, and it stuck with her until she’d fallen back asleep.

—————————————————

Poppy was brought to awareness suddenly for the second time that day by the sound of the curtains being thrown open.“Good morning, Poppy,” Maria cheered with her back to the couple, Poppy tensing in shock and slight embarrassment as she and Chris, who also jerked awake, were well and truly caught. “You sure are sleeping late this morning. I just heard Chris came home yesterday so I’m sure he’ll want you to join him for breakfast and- Oh!”

A sheepish smile spread on Poppy’s face as her longtime friend had turned, her eyes widening in shock at the couple, still cuddled together, her eyes shifting to the ground. Poppy’s face warmed in embarrassment again, realizing Chris had carelessly thrown his clothes on the ground last night. “Morning Maria,” she heard Chris say, feeling him press his face into the back of her head as Poppy bit her lip, smirking lightly at Maria.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Your Royal Highness! I didn’t realize you were in here,” Maria blushed, bowing slightly as she stood awkwardly, unsure what to do.

Chris lifted his head, tightening his arm from where it was still thrown over Poppy’s waist as he looked at Maria. “Maria, how many times have I told you to call me Chris when nobody is around?”

“I’m sorry, Chris. I guess I just was surprised,” Maria smiled sheepishly, eyes widening minutely in shock as she looked at Poppy, a small grin on her face.

“It’s fine,” he laughed, before glancing down at Poppy and, trying to do so discreetly, pulled the quilt up around her more.

Maria began to walk towards the door before she bit her lip and turned back to the pair. “Um, there’s a few people looking for you. I believe the King would like an audience and then some others were asking where you were.”

“Tell them I’m busy. I’m with my wife this morning,” Chris smiled, feeling Poppy practically shiver next to him as he bought them more uninterrupted time together.

“Yes, sir,” Maria nodded before she rushed forwards, grabbing Fluffy carefully. “I’ll make sure he gets his breakfast,” she said hastily then she resumed her exit, trying to leave as quickly as possible.

“And Maria? Make sure nobody disturbs us,” Chris called, just before she could shut the door.

“I’ll make sure of it!”

After the echo of the door from the sitting room to the palace hallway was heard, Chris turned his head to look down at Poppy, a slight smirk on his face as his arm tightened around her again. “Good morning, Pop.”

“Morning Chris,” she whispered, wrapped completely in and around him, their legs tangled beneath the blankets.

“That certainly wasn’t the wake up call I was expecting this morning,” he said softly, shaking his head a bit as he admitted, “I think I traumatized poor Maria.”

Poppy rolled her eyes, a fond expression on her face. “You just gave her a reason to tease me for the rest of our lives.”

“I didn’t mean to sleep so long but it just feels so good next to you,” he grinned, pulling her tightly against his chest as he kissed at her neck. “I missed you so fuckin’ much while I was gone. All I could think about was getting home to my baby.” There it was again. My baby. If he only knew what those words did to her, what she’d thought about while he was gone….he’d be doing a lot more than just smiling down at her right now.

“Last night was the first time I’ve actually enjoyed being in this bed the past two weeks,” Poppy whispered into his chest, her hand coming up to play with the hair at the back of his head, raking it through the thick strands.

Chris pulled his head back, studying her as he narrowed his eyes. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” He asked, before tacking on, “Be honest with me.”

“Much better. Nothing hurts anymore, just still a little tender,” Poppy shrugged, raising her eyebrows and biting her lip before nonchalantly saying, “The doctor came yesterday to look me over.”

She watched as the implication of her words hit him, his brows raising and his lips pursing. “Oh?”

Poppy nodded, smirking lightly as she continued, almost blase. “She said that by Friday I’ll be completely fine.”

“Is that so?” Chris asked, brows raised as she nodded. “I’m happy to hear that for a lot more reasons than one.”

“Me too.”

Chris nodded, a hand playing with a strand of her dark hair as he was quiet for a moment. “I think this weekend I’m going to take you up north. We could spend the weekend at a castle that my parents used to take me in the summertime,.” he began, pausing before he added, all too casually, “We’d get to be alone.”

“Can you be gone for a few days?”

“Well I’m going to be,” he snorted. “Need to celebrate my wife's recovery.”

“How are we going to celebrate?” Poppy asked, tilting her head as she stared at him, enjoying the give and go of their banter.

“I have a few ideas, including optional clothes,” he trailed off, raising his eyebrow again as a boyish look settled on his face, one that practically made her shiver with anticipation.

Poppy schooled her expression though, sitting up and staring at him in faux-shock. “What? Do you mean you don’t like these?” She asked, pushing the quilt off of her, revealing her white lace nightgown.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his jaw dropping as his eyes moved up and down her body. Almost in any other setting, that sort of attention would have made her shrink with insecurity, but here, with him? She was ready to do this.

“I hope you mean that in a good way,” Poppy chuckled quietly, biting her lip as she watched him. He still wasn’t looking at her, well… he was but he wasn’t looking her in the eyes.

“I mean it in the way that seeing you in this has me fucked,” he blurted, finally lifting his eyes to her face before he blushed. “I don’t know how to keep my hands off you.”

“You don’t have to,” Poppy said quietly, biting her lip as butterflies filled her stomach.

“Poppy… are you sure?”

“Completely,” she grinned, barely having a second to breathe before Chris crashed his lips to hers, pushing his body against hers.

Chris’ big hands grabbed onto the curve of her hips, sliding her down in bed so that he could hold her close as he deepened their kiss. Knowing for once they wouldn’t be interrupted, both relaxed in each other’s embrace, Poppy sighing as Chris’ tongue licked across her bottom lip to ask for permission.

She was overwhelmed by his wandering hands, pulling lightly and teasingly on her nightgown, squeezing her ass, and driving her crazy. She raked her hands through his hair before settling one hand to rest on his jaw and over his neck, squeezing lightly and earning a groan out of him that was like music to her ears. His lips started moving along her jaw, starting to trail kisses on her neck and made mental notes of all the places that made her breathing grow shallow.

Poppy’s green eyes fluttered closed, her hands rubbing along his muscular back, getting lost in the feel of his warm breath and soft lips on her skin which was a stark contrast to the way his perfectly groomed beard prickled her. It all was so perfect, so incredible but when he started sucking at that specific spot on her neck that not even she knew was there, oh how that made her heart start pounding.

“I love you Poppy,” he murmured, nipping at her skin. “Love you so much.”

She could have exploded right then and there with those words mixed with his muscular broad frame pinning her down while he sucked along her neck. Poppy had never felt this way before. This mixture of excitement, longing and pure bliss and she felt it in every bit of her body. But what she didn’t know is Chris was wanting, no, needing, this closeness with her just as much as she did.

He let one of his hands slide down her body from where it had been resting on her shoulder and found the tiny zipper on the edge of her nightgown. Poppy’s breath hitched in her throat when she realized what his touch meant and her thoughts were confirmed when Chris pulled away, his face hovering over hers and an unspoken question was in his eyes.

“Is this alright?”

Poppy couldn’t even seem to answer at first, just so lost in the way his intense stare seemed to go right through her, that slight smirk that lingered on his red swollen lips, and the kindness on his face that always reminded her that she was safe with him. And that was something she hadn’t ever felt with anyone before. Because of all of those feelings inside her, it didn’t make her question it when she nodded her head yes.

He slowly unzipped her nightgown, gradually revealing the bare, unseen skin beneath. He didn’t tear his eyes from where they’d locked on her green ones until she gently shifted, helping him slip the delicate straps off her shoulders, the short material slipping off of her body and he helped her pull it off all the way until it was in a pile on the floor.

She watched his face, holding her breath as his eyes trailed to look at her head to toe, his cheeks turning pink as he held his breath. Poppy had been nervous to be laying underneath him, almost completely bare to him in the morning light for the very first time, but now that the moment was here it felt so… right. She saw the way his blue eyes practically drank her in and he reached out a hand, his calloused fingertips trailing down the smooth skin of her body.

He leaned down, his hot breath puffing over her skin, causing goosebumps as his lips reached her skin. “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he muttered, his lips pressing soft kisses to her breasts, a hand coming up to squeeze one gently.

Poppy shut her eyes, focusing on breathing while his lips covered each of her breasts with gentle kisses and fondled her other breast with his hand, getting used to the feeling of it against his palm. The way he was worshiping her, nuzzling her chest and that warm breath and soft lips, not to mention the weight of his hard manhood against her hip was almost too much to take. She felt her thighs clenching in response, this feeling causing so much to stir inside her.

She was breathing heavily as his lips came around one of her nipples, his tongue swirling sensuous circles and Poppy couldn’t help but grasp onto him, whimpering, “Please, baby,” out of pure instinct. Those words seemed to open something up in him, his fingertips digging into her hips and she felt a long breath against her skin.

“Don’t worry honey, I’ve got you,” he murmured while placing one last teasing kiss to her chest, her breath hitching at the words and action.

She felt his lips start trailing down the curve of her breast, following down her stomach until he lingered at the waistband of her soft white panties. He shifted his weight onto his knees so he could hook his fingertips into the band and Poppy could have died from the way his blue eyes met hers and held her eye contact while peeling her panties down her legs.

Poppy felt a long shiver run down her spine before he tossed her panties on the floor before putting a hand on each of her ankles and slowly ran them along her smooth skin, slipping them to the inside of her thighs as he moved higher and gently pushed her legs apart. She had let her eyes flutter closed, just focusing on the sensation of his warm hands trailing along her smooth skin but when she opened her eyes and saw him gazing at her completely naked body just for him, she felt that violent shiver yet again.

“My sweet Poppy,” she squirmed lightly, desperate for his touch. “You’re so gorgeous. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

But it wasn’t just the low cadence of his husky voice breathing out those words that got her going. His big hands were squeezing at her inner thighs, so close to where she wanted him most but he just wasn’t there yet. He was taking his time and it was absolutely killing her.

With him leaning back, she could see his thick erection pressing at his boxers and every inch of her ached for him. Poppy had never felt this way. Never felt this deep longing and when his index finger finally slipped between her folds to run along her slit, and she moaned at the feeling she had been craving.

“So perfect,” He murmured, and at his words she felt her breath hitch. “I’ve got you, sweet girl.”

And with that, he pulled his fingers from her wet warmth and shifted so that he was laying between her legs. Poppy’s eyes grew wide as she realized what was about to happen, something completely new than anything she’d experienced before. Chris slipped his thick arms underneath her thighs, bringing his hands around to hold onto her hips while he started peppering kisses along her thigh, whispering, “Just relax sweetheart.”

But how in the world was she supposed to relax with that beautiful sculpted face just inches from her wetness. How could she relax with the way his hot breath was making goosebumps spread across her skin. How could she relax with that low raspy voice of his and the way he looked up at her with that look. She already knew he was going to be the death of her but what a way to go.

“Can’t wait to taste you, darling,” he whispered, just before he lowered his face, his eyes shutting as she lost her breath.

And it was only a moment until he did.

Chris didn’t prolong it any farther, his mouth coming to bury between her folds and made her cry out just from that alone. But then when he poked his tongue out, licking a long strip along her most sensitive area, she was whimpering while her heart pounded inside her chest. She squirmed against him while Chris started licking her methodically and he kept a tight hold on her hips, not wanting her to get away from him.

The white sheets were balled up tightly in Poppy’s fists as Chris found a good pace until she let go with one hand to come to rake through his hair, grasping lightly as he increased his pressure. All of this was brand new to Poppy. Every bit of it. The praise, the loving looks, the way he licked her, but most of all the newest feeling was someone wanting her.

Chris made her feel wanted in every sense of the word. He wanted her touch, her companionships, her advice, her friendship, her love, her conversations, and now he wanted that final piece, that final bit of closeness they had yet to share. Poppy felt his love for her in everything he did and it almost overwhelmed her, but it also assured her that she wanted all of this with him.

She spread her legs a little father, wanting to open herself up to him farther and he began to draw circles around her clit with the tip of his tongue and she could feel that white hot heat building in her stomach. That was a feeling that hadn’t been very familiar to her, but it was going to be if Chris had anything to say about it.

“Chris,” she gasped, a hand shooting out to reach for his thick hair. “Chris, please.”

Hearing her pleading made him start to use his tongue more precisely and one of his hands slipped out from underneath her thigh, reaching up to grasp her soft breast, kneading it slowly before rolling her perky nipple between his thumb and his forefinger, causing her moans to pour out. Poppy’s breathing was growing more and more shallow until her whole body became rigid, her hand pulling on his hair while her head tipped back into the pillow as her back arched.

Her eyes were squeezed shut as he just kept panting and then she felt that coil snap inside her and Poppy cried out his name in response. He grunted against her core but kept on working her with his tongue, taking her through her high until Poppy practically melted against the sheets, everything going limp. Her green eyes didn’t flutter open for a while, just in time to see him lifting his face from between her legs, his beard glistening and a sideways smile on his lips.

A large hand reached out to rub her stomach lightly, a chuckle bubbling out of him. “Feeling alright, baby?”

“Feeling wonderful,” she nodded, pushing her hand through her hair, knowing it was probably a mess now.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

“Chris…aren’t you… well,” she gestured to the straining member in his boxers, wanting to do something to at least satisfy him.

“You’re still not cleared by the doctor and I don’t want to do anything to hurt you,” a small, tight grin on his face, before it turned to a slight smirk. “Besides, you think I’m going to make love to my wife for the first time with a couple guard standing outside and someone probably ready to barge in here any moment?”

“When aren’t we interrupted though?”

“This weekend, that’s when,” he told her, pulling himself from between her legs to lay next to her, reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand. “If the doctor clears you before the weekend, I’m going to take you to a little place I used to go up north with my parents in the summer and we’re going to be completely alone.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he nodded. “Just the two of us in the house all weekend and then I’m finally going to get to spend some quality time with you completely naked in bed with me.”

“That sounds perfect to me,” Poppy whispered, trailing a hand over his muscular chest.

He laughed quietly, a small smirk on his lips again. “Good because I can’t hardly fuckin’ wait.”

His lips met hers for a long slow kiss, both of them needing it so badly. Poppy was ready to pull him down on top of her when he pulled out of her grasp and turned to climb out of bed, causing her to ask, “Wait, where are you going?”

“I’m going to take a shower. I was traveling all last night and I just feel gross,” he shrugged, pulling the quilt back up around her from where he’d pushed it off of her earlier.

“Then you probably need to go do all your work,” Poppy said with a hint of disappointment.

“Nope, then I’m climbing right back in this bed with you for a while longer,” Chris smiled, only slightly boy-ishly. “On one condition.”

“What might that be?”

“That you leave all your clothes on the floor,” a cheeky smirk appeared as they both laughed.

A smile spread across Poppy’s lips before she nodded in response to him, promising she would before he disappeared into the bathroom. She heard the shower turn on while Poppy just snuggled down into the bed, pulling the sheet up over her while she relaxed in pure bliss. Her eyes were fluttering closed again when a loud knock came at her door, alerting her to someone’s presence.

“Poppy!” She heard Maria call, Poppy’s eyes shooting open and looking at the door just in time to see the door handle begin to turn.

She pulled the blankets up around her naked frame, frozen in the bed as she quickly yelled, “Don’t come in, Maria!”

Maria took her hand off the handle but quickly called back, “Poppy the King is on his way up to see you!”

“Oh shit!”

Poppy bolted out of bed quickly, rushing as she threw last night’s clothes from both Poppy and Chris into the closet, pulling on clothes quickly. Chris stepped out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, just as Poppy was putting the pillows back on a remade bed, her eyes wide.

“What’s going on?” He asked, pausing with his brows furrowed.

“Chris, you need to get dressed and get out of here!”

“Why?” He asked, glancing at the time quickly but unsure to decipher what she meant.

Poppy gently pulled back the covers, settling back in the bed as she reached for a book to put next to her and finally looking at Chris, her heart warming at the way his thick brown hair was sticking up in random directions. “Your father is on his way up!”

He chuckled quietly, opening the door to her room and heading to get clothes from his own room. “Pop, you do realize we are married right?” He called over his shoulder, Poppy’s eyes trailing him as he walked away.

“I know but I don’t know your father well, I want to make a good impression,” she practically pleaded, her eyes losing him as he disappeared momentarily to head into his closet, reappearing with a smirk on his face.

“Well I’m just glad I got to make a good impression on you this morning.”

“Chris!”

“What?”

Poppy shook her head, a smile fighting its way onto her face. “You’re terrible.”

“That’s not what you were saying a few minutes ago,” he shrugged as he walked back into her room, clothes in hand, and shut the door quietly.

“You better put on your clothes and go sit over there or you’ll never hear me saying anything to you again!”

Chris practically cackled, shooting her a wide grin as he walked back into the bathroom, shutting the door to change. She shook her head, anxiously rotating her rings as she waited for the King to arrive. Chris opened the door not even two minutes later, flopping overdramatically in his chair as they chatted quietly before a knock interrupted the couple. “Poppy, it’s George. May I come in?”

“Yes, come in,” Poppy replied, running a hand through her dark shiny hair, internally still feeling absolutely frazzled.

She tried to calm her racing heartbeat as the King stepped inside the large bedroom. Poppy had spoken with George multiple times, but hadn’t really gotten to know him very well. The thought that he was coming to see her felt intimidating but based on what had just happened, she felt even more unprepared for the meeting. She held her breath while George’s eyes settled on her with a smile and in that moment, she recognized the same kind twinkle in his eyes that Chris got.

Before she could think any farther though, she watched George’s head turn to look at Chris and noted, “No wonder nobody’s been able to find you this morning,”

“Wow everyone must be desperate if they’re sending you to come find me,” Chris chuckled through a smirk, relaxing into the chair that he sat in near the large windows that were streaming in sunlight.

“Oh I didn’t come to see you, I came to see Poppy,” George clarified as he motioned to the bed where Poppy sat.

“You came to see me?” Nothing but confusion clouded her mind, wondering what he possibly could come just to see her about.

“I did. May I sit down?” George wondered, and at her nod, sat down on the edge of her bed with a kind smile. “How are you Poppy? The doctor said you’re almost well.”

“I’m feeling much better. I’m anxious to finally be able to be up and around again,” she was mostly honest, but kept quiet about the small look she and Chris shared, another secret reason for her wanting to be cleared by the doctor shared between just the two of them.

“I can imagine, but I’m so glad you’re doing better,” he reached out to pat his daughter-in-law’s hand that rested on top of the quilt. “But I also did have another reason for coming to see you.”

“What’s that?”

George took a breath before he explained, “Well in a few weeks I’m having a meeting with some of our government officials about how we can support the orphanages and schools in Queensnorth and I’d like you to sit in and give your opinions.”

“You… wait, you want me to come?” Her eyebrows knit together in confusion while she tilted her head, studying his face in the meantime.

“A little bird named Chris has told me how much you know about education and all you’ve done at the orphanage nearby. I also spoke to the headmaster there and she informed me that you’ve really turned things around there so I’d love your knowledge on this,” George spoke with decisiveness and honesty. He wasn’t just asking her this to try to appease her, he truly needed her advice and knew from all the council he had received that she was the right choice.

Poppy was absolutely speechless. She just sat in the bed blinking slowly while she tried to process the information. She was completely unaware of the way Chris was practically beaming at her, so proud and in love with her. She had been used to the teaching of how she’d grown up. To be seen but not heard. Anytime she did express her thoughts or opinions, they were usually stepped on or thrown out, but it seemed to be so different here and part of her knew that was thanks to Chris.

Realizing she hadn’t said one word, she finally told him in a quiet voice, “I’d be honored.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that because we really need you,” George dipped his head, looking at her a little closer while his hand came back to rest on top of hers, “But I also did have another question.”

“Of course, anything.”

“Is he being good to you?” He motioned vaguely over to where Chris was sitting by the windows, making the younger man burst out with laughter, nose scrunching up and his eyes squeezed shut as George went on, “Because if he isn’t, I’ll smack him.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing that,” Poppy quipped right back, her green eyes darting over to the playfulness dancing across Chris’ face.

“Hey!” He piped up, his jaw dropping in protest.

“Well he better be treating you alright,” George pointed his finger at her with a soft chuckle as he stood up.

He lingered by her bed before he left, waiting for her answer but it didn’t take long for Poppy to admit, “He’s treating me a lot better than alright.”

Hearing her words, he just smiled and gave her hand a squeeze, thanking her for being willing to help him and making Poppy promise she’d keep resting until the doctor cleared her. It wasn’t until she promised she would that he bid his goodbye to both of them before walking out of the door and shutting it tight behind him. For a moment Poppy just laid there, those words echoing in her mind, so lost in thought that it took her a moment to realize Chris climbing back onto the bed, settling in next to her and pressing a long kiss to her lips. He then wrapped his arms around Poppy, pulling her close and whispering how much he loved her and she couldn’t help but smile, thinking how true the words she had just spoken were. He was treating her a lot better than just alright.

A/N: See you all on Thursday! ;)

[rotworld]

2: Centaur

it’s said that only pure virgin maidens can call a unicorn, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

->explicit. contains horse genitalia, weird sex magic to enable human-to-horse genitalia compatibility, dubcon/noncon, semi-public sex, implications of mind-altering magic, gore, murder, kidnapping.

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.

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You’ve never seen anything so beautiful.

The meadow is in full bloom, a sea of brilliance. Here, a profusion of daisies. There, a carpet of poppies. Asters and yarrow and little clovers, flowers you’ve never heard of, colors you didn’t know existed, bloom as far as the eye can see. There are starbursts, blue as the sea, that smell of salt and sand, and cones of pink blossoms that glitter in the light. Petals dance in a gentle breeze like prismic rain, carrying a soft, sweet scent. It feels like a dream. You’re knee-deep in flowers beneath a cloudless sky.

“This is impossible,” you say softly, afraid to disturb the peace. Your fingers graze a curving stem, heavy with bluebells. “It’s autumn. The leaves should be turning. How is everything so green?” 

The king’s men sigh tiredly, looking uncomfortable and terribly out of place in their clanking armor. “Unicorn,” they say, the only word they seem to know. Why are the winds so gentle here, spring-sweet and warm? Unicorn. Why is the water crystal clear and sparkling, the perfect temperature for both a quenching drink and a quick rinse of your dirtied hands? Unicorn. Why couldn’t you see the meadow until you crossed the river and passed a certain willow tree? Unicorn, obviously. They shake their heads at you like you don’t know anything.

“Sit here,” one of them tells you, pointing to a spot among the daffodils. 

Another one stops you just as you’re kneeling in the grass. “No, no, wait, over there is better. There are lilies. Lilies are a symbol of virginity.”

“I think the roses would be best,” a third chimes in. “Seems very maiden-like, doesn’t it? That’s what a maiden would pick, I think, if a maiden were out here, picking flowers.” The other knights nod sagely. “Then it’s decided. Over there by the roses, please. Here, sit with your legs folded like this…”

You roll your eyes. You can’t believe how seriously they’re taking the stupid little details. This whole expedition is a lost cause. It doesn’t matter how much they pretty you up, dressing you in this flowing gown and making you wander barefoot among the flowers. You’re a sheepherder, not a waifish little girl. A unicorn can tell the difference. But the king must really be desperate, because the knights are insistent as they correct your posture, smooth out your hair, and inspect you from every angle.

“Good. Perfect,” one of them says, nodding at his handiwork. “We’ll get into position. Do,” he pauses, waving his hand vaguely, “maiden things. Sing songs. Braid your hair. Whatever it is maidens do.” You watch them clang and clatter away to the treeline, hiding poorly among the rocks and flower bushes. You relish in the space and freedom, flopping on your back in the grass. You couldn’t care less if a unicorn comes or not. The fields are yellowed and prickly at home, nothing like the beautiful softness of this meadow. Your cousin agreed to watch your sheep for the day, so you don’t have a care in the world. You close your eyes and let eternal spring wash over you. 

You open your eyes to darkness.

You sit up slowly, groaning and groggy. You must’ve drifted off. Petals fall from your gown as you yawn and rub your eyes. Snoring drifts from the trees; the knights fast asleep. You stand up to stretch, only to find a new, fantastic landscape stretched before you. The meadow is tinged silvery blue in moonlight. New flowers, unopened buds just hours ago, bloom with a faint glow. A river of stars shines overhead. This must be the dream, you think, or maybe you’ve been dreaming since you crossed the river. Everything about the meadow is otherworldly, a place of beauty and gentleness unlike anything you’ve ever known.

And then you hear it. Softly at first and indistinct, but nearing, gradually louder. A rhythmic gait, too heavy for a human, too pronounced for fleshy feet. Hoofbeats. Your breath catches in your throat. You scramble to your feet and look around. Auroras shimmer above you, rippling ribbons of green. Night breeze blows across the meadow and the grass whispers at your ankles. You see him, trotting across the meadow. You see him and there are tears in your eyes. You realize you’ve never known beauty until this moment.

The unicorn is the color of night, black and deepest blue. His mane shimmers, woven with gemstones and glittering flower buds, and his horn shines like polished onyx. He is a man from the waist up, silver eyed and handsome. There are scars along his broad shoulders, puckered skin that healed a lighter gray. Beneath the waist, muscle twists and transforms into long equine legs. His gait is leisurely, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“My oh my, what do we have here?” he says. His voice is velvety smooth and alluring. Your apprehension melts away even as he stops before you, his front legs bending so you’re face to face. A heavy, coat-like fabric rests across the back of his horse body, royal purple and delicately embroidered with intricate floral patterns. He reaches for you, slender fingers curling along your jaw. You’re sure of it now. This is all just a dream. The unicorn chuckles, a warm and rumbling sound that fills you with heat. “You’re wide awake, little one.”

“You can read my thoughts?” 

“I can read more than that.” His smile widens and he stands to his full height. You fidget nervously as he walks in a slow circle around you, a hand beneath his chin. His hooves kick up petals and glittering pollen with every step. “Hmm, let’s see...a shepherd! How precious. What gentle hands. Ah, but a solitary life. You’ve not known a lover’s touch in quite some time.” Your face heats in embarrassment. His palm trails across your back as he passes behind you, squeezing your shoulder. 

“I thought unicorns only came to pure maidens,” you say. His every touch sends sparks across your skin. You can feel his warmth through the flimsy, thin fabric of your gown. At that, his smile gains a sharp edge, almost predatory. It’s gone as quickly as it came.

“What a delight you are,” he murmurs. “Coming all this way was worthwhile after all.” He begins to walk and you follow without being asked. There are flowers all around you but you pay them no mind now, too entranced by the beautiful creature beside you. You don’t know if you go far or not, time and distance rendered meaningless in the dreamlike embrace of the meadow. He leads you to a large, mossy rock formation, the stone sheared away to leave an unnaturally flat surface. You look back over your shoulder, remembering the knights. Did they sleep through all of this? Should you say something? The unicorn’s hand cups your chin, dragging your gaze back to him. His breathtaking smile obliterates all thoughts of anything else. 

“The stories are an exaggeration,” he tells you. He guides you gently, hands on your shoulders, to sit on the stone. His legs fold beneath him and he sits, his hands carding through your hair. The affection and desire in every touch, every gentle scratch of his fingers against your scalp, makes you hotter. “We appear to whomever we wish to appear to. But I confess, some of us do have a soft spot for virgins.” He presses a sharp kiss to your lips, nipping at you. “We enjoy teaching them pleasure,” he hisses, and pushes you suddenly onto your back. The gown is pulled from your body, discarded in the grass. Night air caresses your bare skin and you squirm beneath his wandering gaze.

Somehow, it only occurs to you now what his intentions are. The gentle caresses, the sensual touches and the heat in his gaze didn’t feel real. They still don’t, but now, naked and at the mercy of his hungry eyes, you understand. “You...you want me?” you say, your voice small in embarrassment. When you say it out loud, it sounds even more ridiculous, but there’s no mistaking this. He rests his arms across your abdomen, gazing up at you with fondness and longing. 

“I do,” he says. “Very, very much. Would you let me have you?” 

You bite your lip, your body trembling as he slips a hand between your legs and just grazes your sex with his fingertips. The touch is teasing, too fleeting, and leaves you aching for more. You nod shakily and he hums, pleased at your acquiescence. “What’s your name?”

He looks rather charmed that you asked, warmth filling his gaze. “I am Myurva,” he says. You give him your name in return and the way he says it back to you, the lascivious purr, makes you squirm. The unicorn rests his hands on your knees, gently but firmly easing them apart. “Spread your legs for me, lovely. I want to see you.” 

Myurva’s seduction is slow and patient even as you writhe and beg him for more. He opens you on his fingers, soothing your frenzied whimpers with sweet nothings and loving whispers of your name. You’ve never been treated with such devotion, such smothering lust and affection. He touches you like the love of his life, kisses tenderly and messily, drags his hand along your side and savors the way you move for him. “So very worth it,” he murmurs, kissing your inner thigh. He has two fingers inside you, caressing your walls and curling just right to reach the spot that makes you shriek. “How fortunate I am to have found you, lovely. I want to keep you. I want to spoil you each and every night.” 

You’re keening for him, sobbing with need, when he flips you onto your stomach. You hardly notice. You spread your legs when you feel his hands on you, kneading your ass. Everything is hot and electrifying, hazy with pleasure. Then his front hooves land heavily in the grass near your head and something enormous rubs against you. “Wait,” you say shakily. You hear a chuckle above you. The fleshy end of Myurva’s cock slides against your ass, smearing precum along your spine. Your heart skips a beat feeling the sheer size of it against you. There’s no way. It’s impossible. You try to push yourself up on your elbows and one of his hooves stamps dangerously near your head. 

“I thought you wanted me, lovely,” he says. He thrusts again, the length of him slipping between your thighs and grinding against your sex. “If you move, I’ll have to chase you. You won’t get far.” 

“You won’t fit,” you tell him, voice pitched in desperation. Trying to squirm just makes him rest his weight against you, crushing you between the stone and the bulk of his body. “You’re going to break me!”

“I’ll go slow,” Myurva purrs. He demonstrates with a slow grind, a gradual roll of his hips. His heated flesh feels so good against you. “I’ll be so, so careful with you. Don’t you remember the stories? I enjoy virgins. I haven’t harmed a single one. They wander the woods in search of me, begging to feel my cock again.” You hear his back hooves shifting, repositioning behind you. He lines himself up and his cock prods against your opening. “Let me show you,” he urges. “Let me bring you pleasure you’ve never known.” He grinds against you again, hot pressure building as he begins to push inside. You gasp his name, beg him to wait, to go slow, to give you a moment to collect yourself, but he chuckles and presses harder.

Your nails rake against the stone and your vision whites out. The burn of the stretch becomes a tingling sensation, numb at first and then blindly pleasurable, lighting sparks in your belly. It shouldn’t be possible but you feel the head inside of you. The pain is a dull ache but every movement chases it away, pleasure washing over you. He rocks his hips and the steady, shallow thrusts push him deeper. True to his word, he fucks into you agonizingly slowly, panting and moaning

“How do you feel, lovely?” he asks, his voice strained. He’s holding back, you realize, his hooves stomping restlessly as he makes small, unconscious thrusts to feel you wrapped around him. “Let me in deeper. Let me fuck you properly. You won’t regret it.”

You don’t think he can get deeper. You try to tell him as much, but a hard thrust knocks the breath out of you. The fullness makes your head spin. You feel yourself pushing back against him despite all of the sensations, the ache inside of you, the impossibility of the whole situation in the back of your mind. He makes a breathy, choked sound and then laughs, fucking you harder. “Ohhh, that’s it. Just like that. I knew you’d love this.” You can hear his cock slamming into your body, can feel the weight of his heavy balls slapping your ass with every thrust. You feel like a cocksleeve, a snug toy for him to fuck. The force of his thrusts drags you back and forth over the stone, scraping up your chest, but the pain is nothing compared to the pleasure he gives you. 

Someone is screaming, crying Myurva’s name into the night. You barely recognize your own voice, the needy pitch, the tremor in every word. You’re so full, so unbearably stuffed with cock, no longer trying to meet his thrusts but letting him move you, ruining you for any human partner. Your knees bruise on the stone. Your toes curl. Your cries build to a frenzied crescendo and you cum impaled on his enormous cock, shaking, panting his name.

“Lovely,” he moans, an obscene sound leaving his lips as your inner muscles clamp down on his cock. “Gods above, darling, I’m going to fill you.” He fucks you wildly, no rhythm, no caution, his whole cock slamming into you as hard and deep as he can get. You can’t move. The whole world turns white-hot and blinding. You go limp, gasping weakly as Myurva begins to grunt, his cock pulsing, his whole length crammed inside you.

You thought you were full already, but then he cums. You feel him straining on top of you, his whole weight thrown forward as he fucks ropes of thick cum into your body. It foams up around his length and makes obscene, slick sounds. You feel it overflowing, trickling down your thighs. It feels like it goes on forever, his moans, his deep, straining thrusts, his cock pouring more and more cum into your body until his balls empty and he finally, with a satisfied sigh, pulls out. 

You make an undignified sound at the sudden emptiness, and the rush of cum that follows. You’re grateful for the stone beneath you, cool against your sweat-soaked skin. Your legs are jelly. You don’t know if you’ll ever walk again. Myurva’s front hooves lift, stepping back from the stone. His human hand caresses your cheek. “You’re truly something, lovely,” he says quietly. “I spoke in jest of keeping you, but now...it’s difficult to resist the temptation.” 

You try to speak but only manage an incoherent murmur of noise. He chuckles and strokes your hair. Distantly, you’re aware of other noises than the two of you. Shouting. Footeps. Clattering steel. You remember suddenly that you aren’t alone out here, arms struggling to lift you. The knights. How could you forget? Shame heats your face. How long have they been awake? How much did they see? How much did they hear? Myurva shushes your protests, pressing a gentle hand on the small of your back. “Rest,” he says. You don’t think you’re capable of doing much else, anyway.

You hear a commotion behind you. The knights, shouting in outrage, drawing swords. Are they going to hurt Myurva? Your eyes widen and you try again, uselessly, to lift yourself and see what’s happening. The unicorn gives you one last gentle caress and leaves you, his hoofbeats stopping somewhere between you and the knights.

“At last, you show yourself!” the knights exclaim. You manage to roll onto your side, craning your neck to see them surrounding Myurva, but he doesn’t look concerned. He glances around, examining each of the men. 

“Let’s see,” he murmurs. “Subjects of King Cornelius. And you want…” The corner of his lips twitch in amusement. “A hostage? Is that right? Your people have no claim over our mountains. A hostage will not change this. My king does not negotiate.” His words are ignored. The knights are wary but they do not back down. You feel like a fool. Why didn’t you ask them what they wanted the unicorn for? You assumed it was something trivial, a silly princess who wanted a pet. Nothing like this. 

Myurva glances back at you. His silver eyes catch the moonlight and glint dangerously. Those are a predator’s eyes, you realize. A thing that hunts and stalks the night. “You worry for me, lovely?” he purrs. “Your every emotion is so tender. I really must keep you. But, alas,” he chuckles, turning back to the knights, “business first, my sweet.”

You hadn’t looked all that carefully at the fabric across the back of his body. You hadn’t noticed the sword sheaths hanging there, hidden beneath the drapes and tassels. You hear steel scraping steel as he unsheathes twin blades, long and curved, as strikingly silver as his eyes. One of the knights tries to say something. “Come quietly,” or some other meaningless thing. He never finishes speaking. You hardly see Myruva move. A flash of silver, a rush of air; that’s all it takes. The knight’s head falls from his shoulders, and his body sinks to the ground soon after. The others begin to scream and scatter, but they’ll never get away. There’s no outrunning a unicorn. 

Laying there upon the stone, you see everything. Prey fleeing and predator giving chase. Swords clashing. Flesh pierced and mangled. Myurva tramples one of them, snaps the man’s ribs with glee in his shining eyes. Their armor does nothing but trap them in slow, awkward shells, easy prey to catch and dismantle. The unicorn moves like a whirlwind across the meadow, death his shadow. Blood soaks the soil and splatters the flowers, almost black in the night. 

You’re on your knees when it’s over, hunched over the stone with your legs in the grass. You can’t stand. You can’t run. You can’t do anything but turn and see Myurva standing there, fresh blood dripping from his swords. He smiles at the sight of you, the shivers wracking your body. “You didn’t know,” he assures you. “I can read you, remember?” He wipes the blood from his blades, sheathing them at his side once again. You flinch when he comes closer, sitting in the grass beside you. You smell the carnage on him. The fingers that tuck your hair behind your ear are wet and warm. “Pleased to meet you,” he purrs. “I’m Myurva, the royal spymaster. And you are the loveliest little human I’ve ever seen.”

You protest weakly when he scoops you up in his arms, standing suddenly. You’re vaguely aware of moving, of being carried somewhere. You fight to cling to consciousness, but it’s slowly slipping out of your grasp. “Hush,” Myurva coos, kissing your forehead. “We’ve a long ways to go and you’re in no condition to ride me just yet. But, eventually…” He chuckles, one of his hands cupping your backside. “Eventually, we’ll have all the time in the world to do whatever we like, won’t we?”

[t-o-m-hollands]

Summery: Tom is not entirely sure of how it happens. But one moment he’s the gardener of Locksley Hall, and the next he’s run off to marry the lords daughter. A girl he despises.

Well, sort of.

Warnings: Smoking.

A/N: this is (loosely) based on the Locksley Hall poem by Tennyson, but the relationship between them is pretty heavily inspired by Atonement by Ian McEwan (the first part of the book) and the story at large also slightly inspired by Downton Abbey.   Also, I’ve changed the law in this. As I understand it (from watching Downton Abbey) girls could never inherit the estate, no matter if she was married or not. Here you will inherit, but only if you are married and it will then go to your husband. Also, I was listening to Old Money – lana del rey the entire time I was writing this. 

-

Locksley Hall, England – 1920.

It’s June, and Tom finds himself praying for rain.  

It’s one of those summer days when the air stands still. Not a whiff of wind, no breeze in the trees, not a cloud in the sky. Just an ever-pressing, inescapable heat that seems to paint the whole world a hazy golden shade.  

He’s knee-deep in the earth, sweat running down his back, shovelling soil under the merciless sun. It’s midday and the warmth is intolerable. He can already feel the blisters he’ll have on his hands tomorrow. To top it all off his head is pounding and he reminds himself to give Harrison a good kick in the chin the next time he sees him; for convincing him that one more drink wouldn’t hurt.  

And god, he desperately wants a cigarette.  

“God, it’s hot today” Madeleine’s bored voice drifts out the open window. “One can hardly think straight”.

Tom lifts his head and observes her through the glass. The owner of the voice is in the conservatory. Wearing a lace dress and her dark curls perfectly pinned into place. She is primly drinking tea alongside her mother; safely hidden away from the beaming sun.    

He swipes the sweat from his forehead before shovelling the spade further down in the dirt. A sudden urge to throw some of the earth through the conservatory window hits him, just enough to dirty up her white gown. But he resists it. Instead he sits down by the flowerbed and leans his pounding head against the wall. His sore muscles scream in relief. Lighting a cigarette, he then closes his eyes and inhales deeply. The whole world goes white as the sun shines through his closed eyelids and a soft sigh escapes him.  

“Have you received any more letters from Sir Hatfield?” He hears lady Locksley inquire from inside.  

“What, James?”  

“Yes, of course James, has he written you again?”  

“Thankfully not”.  

“Oh, don’t be silly child, he’s the owner of Hatfield house! God knows you could do worse than him” Lady Locksley scolds her oldest daughter. Despite himself Tom’s interest is peaked, so he keeps smoking and listening to the conversation, ignoring his gardening duties.  

“But he’s such a bore” Madeleine whines in response. “Honestly mother, all he ever talks about is hunting. And Hatfield house is a terrible building, you know I can’t stand Tudor architecture. Plus, James is ancient.”  

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s not ancient, he’s ten years younger than your father.”  

“Exactly, and I’m two-and-twenty years old!”  

“Oh, do be quiet, you’re very lucky he’s shown any interest in you at all. I have talked to your father about this. It’s high time for you to get married. Ever since Francis…” she trails off and Tom knows why. Francis had been her oldest child and only son, the one set to inherit the land and the title. Who had died in the war during the battle of the Somme. Tom had known Francis and had not been fond of him. Upon hearing about his death he’d wondered if the heir had been shot by one of his own, though he did not air this suspicion. Tall and handsome Francis may have had been, but he had also been entitled, rude and unkind to animals. He’d beaten his horses, screamed at the servants and taunted his sisters.    

Lady Locksley continues with a new air of authority in her voice. “It’s more important than ever before that we find you a good match. You know what’s at stake if you don’t marry and marry soon”.    

Silence for a second, and unease is setting like lead in Tom’s stomach. Maybe this isn’t a conversation he should listen in to.  

“Yes, I know.” The words sound heavy and reluctant in Madeleine’s mouth.    

He opens his eyes and discretely as he can he pops his head up to sneak a look through the window. The look on the young heir’s face strikes him. It’s not sad, nor angry or dismayed. It’s apathetic. Like she’s somewhere far, far away.  

“Boy, I thought I told you to start digging!” Bertie Higgins voice booms over the grounds as he crosses the corner of the building and walk towards Tom, who quickly puts out his cigarette.  

An elderly man, with bushy beard and eyebrows, a bit too fond of beer and with fingernails so dirty Tom wonders if they’ve ever been cleaned, walks towards him. Mr. Higgins has worked as the head gardener on the grounds of Locksley Hall for longer than anyone could remember.  

“Sorry Mr. Higgins, I just took a breather” he says before putting out his cigarette and picking up his shovel again. Mr. Higgins observes him for a moment, then he leans in closer and whiffs of the beer the older man had for lunch hits Tom’s face. “Listen, boy” he says in a low voice “no good will come from spying on them gentle folks, hear me? No good will come of it”.

“Mr. Higgins I wasn’t -” Tom begins to defend himself but the gardener pats his shoulder and continuous in his stern voice. “Is no use lyin’ to me, boy, I’m too old, I’ve seen too much. You’ve been sniffin’ after that young heir since you came back. ’s no use lad. Them folks are not for the likes of us, above your station she is, well above your station.” Tom wants to protest. For he has most certainly not been sniffing after anyone, least of all Madeleine Locksley, but Mr. Higgins continues. “Now Alice,” he says and pats his shoulder again “she’s some good maid she is, why not ask her out?”  

Alice was indeed a maid at Locksley Hall. Pretty and always ready for a laugh. She’d made it perfectly clear of her interest in him too. There was however a streak of pettiness to the girl that he wasn’t too fond of, and therefor he’d reclined her thus far. But he doesn’t particularly feel like sharing that with Mr. Higgins.  

“Now boy” Mr. Higgins goes on. “You had your breather, go back to diggin’, if I told you once I told’ you a thousand times, you dig when the sun’s out and the dirt is dry an’ you water when the sun’s gone down”.  

Tom goes back to digging, the sun burning his neck, and his joints already protesting.  

He doesn’t notice Madeleine’s brown eyes observing him from within the conservatory.  

***  

The bathwater has gone cold. Still, she stays in the water. The prospect of putting down her book and getting up and ready for yet another family dinner seems dull at best. The rose-scented cold water feels refreshing against her skin. Today really had been unbearably hot. 

Still the heat lingers in the air.

Outside the bathrooms leaded windows the last rays of daylight are lighting up the grounds. Though the light in the gardener’s cottage is already lit.  

Dropping her copy of Pride & Prejudice to the floor she sinks further down into the water. Leaning her head back against the edge of the tub she closes her eyes and sighs.  

She’d just gotten to the part in the book where Elizabeth refuses Mr. Darcy’s proposal and it had annoyed her. How Elizabeth could refuse Mr. Darcy and all his possessions, and it didn’t lead to despair and desolation for her entire family, instead, as if by the waving of a magic wand, everything worked out beautifully in the end. That wasn’t real life.

Everything was annoying her today. Her mother’s persistent nagging, her father’s detachment, granny’s constant complaining. Tom’s strong arms wielding a shovel. The cotton shirt sticking to his sweaty back, the suspenders holding up his muddy trousers.  

She sinks further down into the cold water.  

Tom had looked annoyed today as well. But then again, he’d seemed permanently aggravated ever since he got back from France, at least in her presence. She’d seen him laugh plenty of times with Harrison from the pub when she visited the village, and with Alice too. He’d even crack a smile from time to time with Mr. Higgins. But her presence always seemed to put a frown on his face.

It had not always been this way.

As children they had played. They had explored the woods like travellers discovering a new world. Had run over the poppy fields pretending they could fly. They’d made it down to the sea and Old Sailor Joe had told them stories of Odysseus, and his long journey home. They’d sneaked out and slept under the stars and he had told her all of what Mr. Higgins had taught him about botany. Of how the things we sow in the ground with time will grow. About which flowers could kill you, and which ones could heal.

They had shared secrets and kept them between themselves, solemnly sworn blood-oaths with all the seriousness of a promise between children. They’d sworn that whatever happened between them stayed that way. That his secrets were hers and she’d keep them to her grave, and likewise for him.

Then she’d been sent away to boarding school and he had gone to the village school and that had been the end of that. During the holidays so much time had seemed to have passed between them that it was hard to pick up the threads of childish games where they’d left them. Then, war had broken out and she’d been sent to live with relatives in Canada, and Tom, well, Tom had joined the army.

Once they’d seen each other again years had passed, and they were strangers to one another.

The last evening light shines over the grounds of Locksley Hall, but Madeleine doesn’t move out of her bath, instead she stares out the window, feeling no motivation to move.  

Everything is fleeting, that was what she kept feeling. The hours, the days, the weeks, the months and years. Time passed her by so rapidly and yet all the days looked the same. She felt like a leaf landing in a river, being swept away with the stream with no control of where it was going or were it’d end up. Soon, she would be married, most likely to dreary James Hatfield, and then they would settle in Hatfield house and she would never spend her days roaming the grounds of Locksley Hall again.

Or maybe, she wouldn’t marry, and upon the death of her father and in the lack of a male heir, all their lands and possessions would go to the crown, and they’d all would be left with nothing.

A scream works itself larger in her throat. It had started earlier that day, with her mother in the conservatory. It would only grow larger, and larger until she wouldn’t be able to hold it in any longer. She knew this much from experience.

It felt like this,

In school they’d been taught about diamonds, about how with heat, pressure, and time diamonds are formed to something so unbreakable and everlasting that only another diamond can cut it. She’d imagined how all the screams she’d held inside, pressed between two lungs, over time created so much pressure that they’d turn her insides into diamonds.

As a child she and Tom had snuck into the library one night. In a book of medical terms they’d found the word autopsy with the description:  “An examination of a body after death to determine the cause of death or the character and extent of changes produced by disease — called also necropsy”. Not understanding much of this they had searched the other medical books until they found a more thorough description of what the word meant.

She had been horrified upon finding the truth in all its bloody glory. How, upon one’s death, a pathologist would cut you open to see what they could find. Painted pictures of the procedure followed, and Madeleine is still certain that the image of a cut open human heart is imprinted on her retinas forever.

She imagined it like this,

When they cut her open they won’t find veins, or blood, or intestines. But instead a cloud of smoke as they’ll tear her up, and inside –

dust. 

And a diamond heart; at the living core of which a handful of secrets shared between children years ago were kept. And the pathologists will look at one another and ask themselves, ‘why did she walk around with a diamond heart for all those years?’ Not realising, that her diamond heart was a perfect symbol of her.

Beautiful and valuable.  

And essentially useless.

The door to the bathroom bursts open, and a very aggravated eleven-year-old girl stands on the threshold. Her cheeks are flushed red, not only from a day spent playing in the sun, but from barely held-back rage.  

“That hag!” she bursts out. Her curly, brown hair a mess, wearing a grass-stained dress. A big hole at the sole her left sock.

Madeleine finally steps out of the cold water, pulls on her robe and turns to Beatrix.

“Beanie darling, you know you can’t call people that. Now, what has happened?”

“She told me I’d only be fit to marry a sailor the way I look! And then she had the nerve to say that I was lacking manners! Just because I told her I’d love to marry a sailor, at least he wouldn’t be such a bore!”

The older sister tries to hold back a smile, not wanting to encourage this kind of behaviour. “Would we perhaps be talking about granny?” she inquires.

“Do we know of anyone else that fit the description absolute hag?” her little sister answers, hand on her hip, clearly still annoyed. “Also, she says I have to change for supper in the nursery, god knows why; I’m hardly trying to impress nanny, and that they are waiting for you downstairs.”

And thus, it is time to face the unavoidable and join the lion’s den. Madeleine steps into her adjoining bedroom to get dressed and Beatrix follows closely behind.

“You’ll never guess who she suggested you should marry” Beatrix continues, amusement in her voice, as she sits down at her sisters dressing table, inspecting the bottles of scent and jars of powder with a bemused look on her young face.

“Was it by any chance James Hatfield?” Madeleine answers as she steps into the blue frock Alice had laid out for her earlier.

Beatrix stares at her sister in incredulity and in a heartbroken voice she wails with disbelief in every syllable,” OH, surely not! Leine, you can’t marry him! You simply can’t!”

Benie and Lenie were the affectionate nicknames the sister had for one another. As a child Beatrix had not been able to say Madeleine, but instead only pronounced the latter part of the name and dragged the vocals out into a ‘leeniee’ every time she called out for her.

“Well, he hasn’t proposed yet, so nothing is set” Madeleine answers while avoiding her sister’s questioning eyes, inspecting her hair in the mirror instead.

“So that’s why they’ll have a ball then, I was wondering what called for such an occasion”. 

“A ball?”

“Yes” Beatrix states, inspecting her own freckled, sunburned face in the mirror. “Mommy told granny that they would have one as soon as possible”.

The scream works itself larger in Madeleine��s lungs.

“Oh, well. It can’t be helped” she says and leads her sister out of the bedroom. “Now, you really do need to change, or nanny will be furious with you, and I’ll have to join them downstairs”.

The bedroom door closes behind them as they leave.

***  

The late evening air is loaded with the scent of rhododendrons. In the trees the nightingales sing, and the summer air feel cool against her bare arms as she steps out into the night.

Carefully, as to not be seen from any of the windows, she makes her way across the garden. It is dark, but on her childhood paths her feet still knows where to tread. She walks past the house, the gigantic rhododendron bush, and along the pathway lined with pink geraniums, down the trail past the summerhouse by the lake and further still until she arrives at the fountain by the labyrinth. The deep green hedges are lined with powder pink hydrangeas, blue hyacinths and cardinal red peonies. In the middle of it a square with a fountain. And if you look past that, the entrance to the labyrinth itself. 

If she had walked further still, away from the labyrinth, she’d come to a wide field of poppies. Had she, instead of walking north from the house, walked west she would have ended up by the sea, and the cliffs and Locksley Bay. East of the house laid the road to the village, and then the road to town. South of the manor the forest grew.  

She doesn’t go through the entrance of the labyrinth but sits down by the edge of the fountain. From her pocket she picks up a package of Woodbine cigarettes, but when she goes to light it, the lighter only flickers.

“Need a light?”

She nearly falls into the fountain, taken by surprise by the familiar voice. Tom laughs and walks out of the shadows. Hands in pockets and hair a wild mess.  

“Wanker!” she burst out, heart beating painfully hard in her chest.

“Now, now, where did you learn a word like that?”

He’s so smug, and it’s making her skin crawl with anger. She ignores his question and ask, “did you follow me here?”

He moves closer still, until he’s right in front of her. Then he takes out his lighter. She puts the cigarette in her mouth and he lights it for her.

“No” he answers eventually. “Was just finishing up watering the peonies.”

“You water the peonies in the middle of the night?”

He lights a cigarette for himself and blows out pearl white smoke into the summer night before he answers. “Yeah, as Mr. Higgins keeps telling me. You dig when the soil is dry, otherwise you’ll shovel mud, and you water the plants when the sun’s gone down and the soil is cool, or you’ll just end up boiling the poor things”.

She looks at him, really looks at him; while he’s busy looking up at the moon. His white cotton shirt is filled with stains of earth and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, a worn linen jacket thrown over his shoulder. Worn suspender holds up his muddy pants. His brown locks frame his face perfectly and in the moonlight his skin, tanned from working out all day, seems to almost radiate. He looks positively angelical. A sudden urge to pull her fingers through his hair overwhelms her. 

She looks away.

The nightingales sing louder than ever in the silence, as do the buzzing insects. Somewhere in the far distance a fox screech.

“You know” he says, sitting down on the bench opposite the fountain, leaning back he spreads out into a relaxed position. “Whenever I hear a vixen’s cry I think about Gideon’s ghost.”

“Well, you are the inhabitant of Gideon’s cottage”.

When, or indeed why, the gardener’s cottage on Locksley Hall had been baptised Gideon’s cottage no one seemed to know. Not even Old Sailor Joe, and rumour has it he’d been guarding the boats in Locksley Bay since the first wave crashed against its shore.

But the gardener of Locksley Hall had, for as long as anyone could remember, lived in Gideon’s cottage.

As a child her older brother had frightened her with tales of Gideon’s ghost, and how he still roamed the grounds of the manor, still volatile over long forgotten quarrels. When ever she’d hear a fox’s cry at night, as they laid tucked up in their shared nursery, he’d told her it was the ghost of Gideon, seeking out small girls to take out his revenge on. She had been terrified.

When she’d told this to Tom he had lost his temper with her brother, the two had never gotten along, and he’d taken the older boy to the ground, punching him with his small fists until a furious Bertie Higgins, who’d seen the quarrel from across the yard, had pulled him off him. Madeleine knew Tom had gotten a trashing from Mr. Higgins for the attack and a stern telling off from her father.

“I love that old cottage” he says with a found smile on his face, blowing out more smoke into the air between them. “But I’m yet to see his ghost. ’s a shame really, would have asked if the legend was true about gold being buried at the cliffs of Locksley Bay”.

She smiles, and the nightingales keeps on singing. The scent of peonies and hyacinths is heavy in the air, despite the smoke.  

Tom observing her with an intensity that unnerves her, so she turns away from him to look down into the fountain. Slowly she lowers her hand into the cold water and she watches as the goldfish swim around her.

“Why are you out here smoking at night?” he asks, and she turns to back to look at him, pulling her hand out of the water. He’s still observing her, and she feels almost naked under his glance, despite the silk gown she’s still wearing from dinner. It makes her nervous when he looks at her like that, because underneath their easy tones of conversation, she’s not actually sure he likes her all that much. She shivers, goosebumps all over her naked arms.  

“Here” he says and throws her his jacket. She utters a thank you and pulls it on. It smells of earth and smoke, and fresh cut grass. It smells like him and her diamond heart beat harder in her chest.

“Papa doesn’t like me smoking in the house.” She answers in the end.  

In fact, her father was against her smoking at all. It was a habit that had begun at Talbot Heath boarding school. Smoking with the other girls behind the gymnasium. They’d practised smoking without coughing, feeling mighty smug when they succeeded.

But smoking was, as it had been pointed out to her by her father, ‘not a dignified habit for a woman of her class to partake in’. When she’d gotten back from Canada after the war they’d have words about the subject. In the end the general agreement was that she did not smoke in the house, or amongst other people. She didn’t always follow these rules. There were days when all she did was sit in her bathroom, smoke cigarette after cigarette and read books. A part of her wanted to walk around the house and leave a trace of smoke in every room. Like a ghost, reminding them that she is still there. But a deeply rooted respect, verging on fear, of her father has always kept her from doing such a thing.

Tom hums in reply, that smug smile on his face again. “And what’s dear papa to say about this then? Hmm?” He nods at her, sitting just a meter away from him, wearing his jacket. “Princess sneaking out at night to share a smoke with the gardener?”

“Oh, do shut up”.  

“You know you really have improved your vocabulary since we last spoke” he replies dryly, “must be all that reading”.

“How do you know I read so much”.

And maybe it’s a trick of the moonlight, but she swears he blushes, his cheek the colour of peonies. “I can see the light in your window from my cottage at night”.

“Oh, and you’re keeping tabs on me? How sweet!” You reply in a mocking tone, grateful that you get the chance to be smug for once.

“Well, it’s hard not to notice it” the annoyance is clear in his voice. Then he changes the subject. “What are you reading so late at night anyway?”

“At the moment, Tennyson”.

He groans, “of course you like Tennyson” he scoffs, puts out his cigarette and lights a new one, offering her one as well, which she accepts.

“What’s wrong with Tennyson?” She asks, indignant.  

“Nothing I guess” he responds, “unless you’d like to read about things other than knights and fair maidens”  

“He did not only write about knights and fair maidens!” She defends fiercely. “He wrote about love and loss and death and privilege and -”  

“Oh, he wrote about privilege, did he! Well, you know all about that, don’t you? Little miss ivory tower”.

“And what do you read then? What is so good it makes Tennyson look foolish to you?” She tries to keep her annoyance out of her voice, but its difficult, especially when he looks at her like that. Like he finds her laughable.  

“Recently? Mostly Gorky.”

“You always did prefer your literature Russian. You’re politics too if Alice is to be believed.”  

He smiles, a little less condescending this time, “and you always loved your poetry, and no, she isn’t”.

“You must like some of the poets, surely?”  

“I’m rather fond of Shelley, actually”

“And the sunlight clasps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea:  what is all this sweet work worth, if thou kiss not me?” she quotes, not considering the implication of her words until they’ve already left her mouth. It had always been her favourite poem, and the words fell from her lips so effortlessly. But the intensity in his eyes as he observers her seem to change the very air around them. It is as though the whole world stills, if only for a moment. Like the nightingales and the foxes and the crickets all have heard her, and quieted down, in suspense over what’s to happen next.

He stands up and puts out his cigarette. Looking away from her he suggests, “we should head back, it’s late. I’ll walk you”. So, she puts out hers as well and follows him, and in silence they head back to the manor house, each avoiding the others eyes.  

She pulls his jacket closer to her.  

Then, he stops in his tracks. “Look,” he says and points up at the night sky “Andromeda burns bright tonight”.  

Already as a child he’d been good at recognising the constellations. Many a night they had sneaked out and wandered off to the poppy fields where they’d laid down their heads, and he had pointed up to the sky, just as he was doing now, and taught her to read them.  

“Andromeda, who was tied to the rocks, to be eaten by the sea monster Cetus?”

He nods, but doesn’t look away from the sky, “but Perseus rescued her”.

“And you criticised Tennyson for writing about knights and maidens” she teases.

He looks down at her then, a smile tugging the corners of his lips. They start walking again, his hands in his pockets, looking at the road ahead.  

“So, what did your dear Tennyson write about privilege?”  

“That opportunities are only given to those with riches already” she answers, and then she quotes, “every door is barr’d with gold, and opens but to golden keys.”

Tom is silence for a moment. They’re nearing the end of the road; they’re by the rhododendron bush, and they’ve reached the points were they have to walk their separate ways.  

She removes his jacket and hands it to him.  

“Keep it, for now. You can give it back later, you’ll freeze.”

“No” she argues. “No, Alice will see it and wonder”.

He doesn’t argue with her on that point but takes the jacket from her outstretched hand. “Well” he says, awkwardly. “See you around, Lady Madeleine”.  

They part ways.  

***

FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED

(A/N: I’m reposting this because the first time i posted it didn’t show up in the tags and it had like 3 notes)

Taglist: @londonmademedoit  @isthataladybag   @ceexreverse  @daygiowvibe @averyfosterthoughts @applenter @viwihere @youcompletemess @marvelpeters @youngsenpaibaby @duskholland @vanillanestor​ @panicattheeverywherekid​ @starrycigarettes​ @primadonnasdream​

[pit-and-the-pen]

Don’t Underestimate Me (Chpt. 2)

It’s finally here! It’s also 5am so apologizes if this is absolute garbage. This is mostly a filler chapter but we do get to see some quality Fleur and Skylar bonding. Fleur just deserves so much better and I love the idea of her being this curious girl who just wants to know as much as possible. 

Anywho, slightly shorter than what I plan for all of the other chapters to be but I wanted to get this out sooner rather than later after making you guys wait for it for so long. 

Warnings: None

Taglist: @thoseofgreatambition @ickle-ronniekins @obsessedwithrandomthings-blog @harrysweasleys @kpopgirlbtssvt @shadowsinger11 @harrypotter239  @elf-punk @bitchywhisperswizard @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @magical-spit  @heart-of-tempered-steel @wand3ringr0s3 @things-that-start-with-f  @a-little-too-much @izzytheninja @kpopgirlbtssvt  @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @darlingdelacour 

Prologue| Chapter 1|

Something about manners? 

Fred had never seen Bill so angry before. 

“The attacks are getting more aggressive, we can’t keep doing this.” Harry screamed, slamming his fist on the table. 

“And we can’t go after a man that we can’t find.” Bill sighed out. His hand going up to massage his temple. “I refuse to send people out on a death mission.” 

“People are dying either way. We might as well do something about it.” The brunet fires back. 

“And all of this arguing isn’t helping either side.” George interjected. 

Everyone in the room seemed to slump down in their seats. 

“What do you suggest we do then?” Bill said, looking to the twins. 

“I..” Fred ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t have an answer for that yet.” 

“Merlin. It’s tight enough.” Skylar gasps out as Poppy, her newly assigned maid, pulls the laces on her corset even tighter. 

The older lady just gives a little chuckle. “Alright. Quit your whining.” She says giving her a small pat on the back before tying a small bow at the base. “Take it, it's your first time wearing one?”

“That obvious, huh?” Skylar says as she pulls at the uncomfortable garment before awkwardly shuffling to grab her overdress. 

“No wonder it’s so uncomfortable. You have the posture of a question mark.” Poppy came up behind her and pushed her shoulders back, immediately she felt it slightly easier to breathe. 

“Oh.” Was all she said. 

“Funny how that works isn’t it?” Her nurse chided back with a small wink. 

A knock on the door interrupts the exchange. 

“I hope you're decent.” A familiar voice calls through the door before the door swings open. Minerva steps into the room and sighs slightly. 

“Well I can’t say I’m surprised.” She looks at the nurse, “Make sure she’s presentable.” Poppy nods. 

“Now you. You stick out like a sore thumb.” Skylar scoffs at the remark. “Luckily. I found someone willing to tutor you.” 

“Who?” 

Skylar had never seen this amount of plates in her life. Let alone all laid out at once in front of her. 

“Okay. The main course has just come out. There are different colored plates, which ones do you grab from?” Fleur asks her again, patience starting to run thin. 

“Well seeing as it wasn’t any of the last three I guessed, there's only one left. Silver?” Skylar said in return. 

“All that matters is we got there eventually.” The blonde perked up. “Okay. That’s the basics you need to know for eating.” Fleur pulls out another leather bound book that’s almost double the size of the previous one. 

Skylar takes one look at the book and lays her head against the cool wood of the table. 

“This is going to take forever.” She groans out.

“Well with that attitude, of course it will.” Fleur chides. 

“You know what. I’ve had enough.” Skylar says 

With a quick little flick of her wrist, the pages of the book started to fly open at a speed that was almost so fast you couldn’t see them. 

“Merlin, I don’t why I didn’t think of that in the first place.” Skylar whispers to herself, the words currently sinking into her brain. 

Fleur was staring at the girl wide-eyed, in shock almost. 

“Where did you learn to do that?” She cried

Skylar stared at her for a moment. Dumbfounded. 

“You’re a witch? Can’t you do it too?” 

The girl just shook her head. “There are strict rules about magic. Girls aren’t allowed to use it outside of school, our wands actually get broken once we graduate. I’ve never seen someone even attempt magic without a wand”She gushes. Suddenly she is giving Skylar the biggest smile she had seen the girl wear all day.

“You have to teach me!” Fleur all but screams. Skylar shushes the over excited girl. 

“Absolutely not.” She whispers at the blonde girl in front of her. 

“Oh come on. I’m spending valuable time teaching you all this.” She gestures to the piles of books laying on the table in front of them. “I don’t need to know a lot. Just the simple stuff. You know to make life a little easier?” She gives her the biggest pout Skylar thinks she’s ever seen.

“What do you have to do? You have servants waiting on your hand and foot. You could accomplish the same thing by flicking your arm around and having a person come running.” Skylar says with a small snort at the idea of Fleur doing anything closely related to work. 

“But think of how much freedom this could give me. Think of how it would look to someone that I could do things for myself.” 

“Is that even allowed?” Skylar retorts. 

“Oh screw the etiquette for a second. Please?” She says, laying a hand on top of Skylars. Fleur must have sensed some softening in her resolve because she quickly followed it up with a small “Pretty please?” 

“Oh fine!” Skylar said, throwing her hands up in defeat! 

“Oh this is wonderful! How did you even learn?” She responds with a dreamy sigh. 

The question hangs in the air for a second

“I used to watch my father. See, he trained all the swordsmen in our town and sometimes boys don’t fight fair. I saw him do enough simple healing and simply asked him one day. I think deep down he was happy to pass on the housework to someone else.” She lied like it was the fondest of memories. Fleur nodded excitedly, holding onto every single word like it was gospel. 

“Like I said, I don’t need to know every little detail. I just want to learn the basics.” Fleur gives a big exaggerated  pout.. 

“Didn’t I already say yes?” Skylar shot back, faking a cross voice. “Now let it go before I change my mind. Do you know what the rest of the house would think if they heard anything we said?” With that Fleur pales ever so slightly and gives a short curt nod. 

Giving a low curtsy she walks away. After a few paces she looks around the room a few times before looking back at the younger girl and giving her a knowing wink. Skylar just rolls her eyes before yelling “I’d love to get your opinion on a new dress. Would you meet me in my apartments after dinner please?” 

With that she walks back over to the library shelf to put the books that Fleur had pulled out back up. After a few minutes she finds herself giggling slightly, letting her head fall into her hands. 

Skylar found herself giddy at the thought of having a friend like Fleur. Someone who seemed to float on air, someone as graceful and poised as she seemed to be. But, as fond of the girl as she was, she’s breaking about half of the rules she has ever had. 

It’s only fair she returns what little she can. After-all, Fleur only wanted to learn the very basics. It’s not like she’ll ever need to get a wand in her hand. Just the basics and one more secret she would have to keep. What could go wrong?

[rmg91]

It Shouldn’t Be This Hard

(To Propose To Your Girlfriend)

LOOK! I WROTE SOMETHING! I AM NOT DEAD! Just still distracted by the RP with Autumn. It's too fun, can you blame me? We have such a cute universe happening. Anyway, the muses finally spoke to me and I've been wanting to do a 5+1 for a while now and the right idea came to me. And while this may be a little late it's also my Broppy Day submission. Although when you ship Broppy, everyday is Broppy Day XD

So without future ado, enjoy!

AO3/FF.net

~*~*~*~*~RMG~*~*~*~*~

1.

This was it. This was the night Branch Hawthorn was finally going to propose to his girlfriend of two years, Poppy Meadows. Everything was going to plan and for that Branch was grateful for as he was nervous enough as it was. Both he and Poppy had been able to leave their respective works early to get ready, although Poppy just believed tonight was a fairly normal date night. Then, looking their best and with clear starry night above them, they gotten to Trollington's best restaurant, Chez L'amour, with minimal traffic interference and their reservation had not been lost or given away, things Branch had worried about. Now, with their belly's full of warm delicious food and wine -though Poppy was always quick to assure Branch his cooking was still her very favorite- and dessert on the horizon, Branch was ready to take the plunge.

The mood was perfect, candlelight gleamed and a soft melody was echoing around them and Poppy was looking so beautiful with her bright pink hair pulled up with some strands framing her heart-shaped face and her freckles lit up by the flickering candles and her own bright smile. And her eyes, those beautiful, amber eyes that he just loved to get lost in, were shining with warmth and love just for him. And that was something he still couldn't get over, after all those years of pining and yet so sure he didn't deserve her, he had gotten the girl of his dreams and she loved him. And he hoped she accepted what he was about to ask.

Reaching out across the table, Branch took her hand in his as he returned her smile and hoped the nervousness he felt wasn't obvious. He must have been doing a good job of hiding it so far but he didn't want her to notice now before he had a chance to ask. And maybe it was a little cliché to ask in a romantic restaurant setting but he had spent weeks thinking about this and building up his confidence and he wasn't about to chicken out now. Given her hand a squeeze, he took a sip of his water to wet his throat before speaking, “Enjoy your dinner?” Start small, don't jump into it. All part of the plan.

His gorgeous pinkette grinned and nodded, “Yup! And I can't wait for dessert! I have been dreaming about their triple layer strawberry chiffon cake all week!” She took a sip of her wine before returning his squeeze of their hands before a playful smirk overcame her face and she cupped her chin in her head as she leaned over the table, “You know...You never did tell me why you decided this would be our date destination~ What made you choose the fancy place?”

Branch chuckled and hoped it sounded normal, it sounded off to him, but he simple shrugged and tried not to look away from those wonderful and curious eyes, “What? Can't a boyfriend treat his girlfriend to a fancy dinner once in a while? Plus I know how much you love to dress up, thought it be nice.” And he had a small square box burning a hole in his pocket, just waiting to be pulled out. Absolutely nothing unusual going on. Nope. “And have I mentioned just how beautiful you look tonight? Because you do, absolutely stunning~” He even raised her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles softly to complete his statement.

“Stooop~” She giggled, that perfect sound the best kind of music to his ears as a light blush dusted her cheeks, “Keep talking like that and you might get lucky tonight~”

“I'm already lucky~” And he was. So, so lucky that this brilliantly bright and bubbly woman had not only healed his torn soul and made him want to live rather than just survive but had given her heart fully to him to hold and cherish. Something he did every day so thankfully and would hopefully get to do well into the future together with matching rings on their fingers. Taking what he hoped was a subtle deep breath, for this was it, he wouldn't get a better time to, Branch opened him mouth to begin his speech, something he had been working painstakingly on for months, pretty much since he decided he was going to propose, but was interrupted by the sound of applause.

He and Poppy, who took her hand back to turn around, looked at the reason for it at another table where another couple sat. A brunette man down on one knee was slipping a ring on the happily crying blonde woman's finger as the other patrons clapped for them. Poppy bounced in her seat, adding to the applause, cooing before she spun back around, “Isn't that sweet?! I'm so happy Oak finally proposed! Oh, Daffodil must be so happy! Isn't that great, Branch? Our friends are gonna get married!”

“Y-yeah..Super great.” Branch hoped beyond hope he wasn't being obvious on how he really felt. Of course! Of course the universe would do this to him! It was all going so well! But then of course something had to happen to ruin his plans! Yes, he could still ask Poppy. No, it wasn't Oak's fault for asking his own girlfriend just before he could but he didn't dare take the spotlight away from the other couple. Poppy was right, they were their friends, and while he was sure neither would mind it still felt wrong to Branch to ask Poppy now after somebody else had beaten him to the punch. Sighing, confidence now deflating as he slumped slightly in his chair, Branch decided he'd just have to try another time. It was fine. Completely fine! That decision made, not that it made him happy, the blue-haired survivalist resolved himself to finish off the rest of this night as best he could. Not that Poppy had any idea, she was far too excited to think anything was wrong with him as she pulled him over to congratulate their friends.

And maybe this was for the best, maybe his second attempt would go better?

2.

A few weeks later, some more planning, a few personal pep-talks and Branch was ready to try again. They were currently in her father's backyard, surrounded by all their closest friends, even Gristle and Bridget who managed to make it down from Bergenville, having a simple summer barbecue. Branch was manning the grill, keeping half an eye on the food and the other half on Poppy as she fluttered around their friends, having fun playing games and jamming out to the music Suki had brought along. And perhaps this would be a better proposal anyway. While Branch would have must prefer to propose in a more private setting, which made him wonder why he even thought of the restaurant version in the first place, Poppy would probably enjoy it more if it happened surrounded by the people she loved most. And she deserved everything that made her happy.

Adjusting a few hot dogs so they wouldn't burn, he closed the grill just as his barefooted beauty came skipping over, a cheery smile gracing her lips. Setting down his tongs, Branch easily and happily welcomed her into his arms as she wrapped hers around his neck and gave his nose a fond nuzzle, “Mmm~ Everything smells amazing! Can't wait to eat!”

Branch chuckled warmly, nuzzling her back as he rubbed circles with his thumbs over her hips, leaning closer to her, “Should be ready soon. I know everyone's getting hungry. But first...” He then closed the minimal gap between them, giving her a soft kiss that had her sighing and relaxing in his arms. Sharing a few more soft kisses, and ignoring the wolf whistles from Guy and Smidge, Branch subtly glanced at the grill and decided the food would be okay for a moment. Because he figured now was a good time to pop the question to the queen of his heart as he had her undivided attention. Subtly guiding her away from the barbecue, he distracted her with words and some more gentle meetings of their lips, “Having fun, I take it?”

She giggled, that wonderful, tinkling sound that always spread warmth through him and nodded, “You know it~! I'm so glad everyone was able to make it! It feels like forever since we last did something!” It really hadn't, the Snack Pack was still just as close as they'd always been but Poppy was always one for exaggerating when she could. And well...maybe it had been a few weeks since they'd gotten a chance to just relax and hang out without work or other engagements in the way.

Speaking of engagements....

Branch stopped the careful migration a few feet from the hot grill, in a good spot where everyone would be able to see what was about to happen and carefully nuzzled his and Poppy's noses together, hoping she couldn't feel the sudden rapid beating of his heart, “So I wanted to ask you something..”

“Hmm? Yeeess~?” She hummed, watching him with those sparkling eyes he really did drown in every time he looked into them.

“Well I-”

And for the second time his very important question was interrupted, this time by the back gate slamming open and a familiar voice shouting, “Sup, Losers!!! The party's just arrived!”

“Barb!!!” Poppy screeched happily, tearing herself away from Branch to run and jump into her cousins hold with a very enthusiastic hug. One the punk-rock queen caught easily before swinging the bubblegum princess around, laughing loudly.

“Sup, Popsqueak?! Came to see if I couldn't liven you and your sugary-sweet friends up a little!” The red-pink mo-hawked band leader said, finally putting the other woman down as her right-hand band mate and drummer came up beside her, in a much more subdued manner. “Yo! Boy-Toy! Add a few extra burgers cause I'm starvin'!”

“There's plenty!” Branch cried back as Poppy and the Pack swarmed Barb for greetings and playful jabs. He then sighed roughly, ran a hand through his hair and returned to make sure nothing had burned. It was fine. No big deal. There was still plenty of day left for him to try again. There was just an extra few people around to watch now. As he checked on the food on the grill, moving a few things around and taking the vegetable skewers off, Riff came over after getting his own excited hug from Poppy.

“Sup, man. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything's fine.” Okay, mostly fine. But having been around Poppy since they were kids, Branch knew to try to look for the silver living. He'd get another chance later that evening, he was sure. “Just weren't expecting you guys. Little surprised.” More like a little annoyed at the interruption but he'd get over it.

The dark hair drummer chuckled softly, “Yeah...but you know the boss lady. Loves to make a entrance. But hey! We brought beer!” He lifted up a large case of beer as a peace offering. Branch gestured to the cooler behind him, telling him to add some to it and thanked him, mind half on the cooking, half on thinking about when he'd get that second chance to talk to Poppy.

...Sadly for poor Branch, that chance never came.

Having spent the rest of his time at the grill, catching up with Riff, he had soon let everyone know food was ready and the group swarmed up for the delicious smelling entrees. Then as everyone are and laughed and enjoyed, Barb and Riff regaled everyone with tales of shenanigans and adventures of their world tour. Describing the pounding energy of their concert in Brazil to their little hot spring mishap in Japan after a show. Poppy was thoroughly entranced by her cousins tales and completely distracted from Branch's attempts to gain a little attention long enough for him to get the question burning in his throat out. Then of course the pop/rock duo started the karaoke with a bang, which as fun as it was, just distracted Poppy more and didn't give Branch a chance to regain any sort of romantic mood. By the time the sun was long set but the energy of everyone was still high, Branch had given up for the night. There was no way he going to propose tonight, especially after Barb convinced everyone to go clubbing.

They say third times the charm, right?

3.

A week and some brooding later and Branch was ready to start planning again. He needed to come up with a good one too this time, something where they'd be alone, without anyone around and where he'd have Poppy's undivided attention. However he, himself, was slightly distracted and prevented from doing any sort of real planning as he and Poppy were currently passing Saturday night as they were prone to do. Snuggled up on the couch, lights dimmed and watching movies. There was even a light pattering of rain outside to add the cozy atmosphere they found themselves in.

A Rom-com Poppy had been wanting to see was currently playing, the screen flickering image's by as the main character's flubbed another love confession and Poppy snuggled up close to his chest. Branch's head rested on the arm rest, arms wrapped snugly around his girlfriend, rubbing mindless shapes where his hands rested on her waist. He knew as soon as the movie was over they would probably have to move to bed, sleeping on the couch was not that comfortable nor good for them after all, but right now he was in no position to move either of them. Bending his neck, he buried his nose in her pink locks and inhaled the fresh strawberry scent of her favorite shampoo, nuzzling gently. That was when it hit him, they were alone, there was no one or anything to interrupt him and he'd have Poppy's full attention. Yes, his inner romantic cried at the lack of romance but he had learned from Poppy to take the opportunity when it was presented to you, not to shy away. So, taking a subtle breath to calm his suddenly beating heart, Branch got ready to take the plunge.

Starting simple, he murmured softly, “I love you~”

“Mmm~ Love you too~” The pinkette responded in a light and airy voice, settling as deep as she could into his embrace.

Taking a moment to rub her shoulder and place a gentle kiss on the top if her head, Branch began a speech that he'd crafted and re-crafted hundreds of times already it felt like and it never felt perfect. Hopefully though now, he'd find the right words. “I...can't tell you just how lucky I am to have you in my life. You are...the greatest thing to ever happen to me and I am so, so grateful you took the chance on this ragged, broken and gray soul and made life bright again. You...Heh, you are my sunshine, making my days brighter and fuller and more fun than ever before. And yeah, you're crazy with your scheme's and your scrapbooking and leaving glitter everywhere but I wouldn't trade that for the world. Bring on the cupcakes and rainbows because I'm ready...ready to spend the rest of my life with you beside me. Call me selfish but I...I don't ever want to go back to the dark and dull existence. I want you and your sunshine to wake up next to until we're old and bent over and you're still rocking that pink hair. Poppy...I love you so much and if you'll have me, it would make me the happiness man in the entire universe if you agreed to be mine forever. So...I ask you, Poppy Meadows, will...” Deep breath, “Will you marry me?”

There, he'd done it, he finally asked Poppy to marry him and now all that was left was for her to answer and then he could go get the ring from it's place and he could finally see it on her finger. But as the minutes ticked by and he got no answer, Branch was beginning to worry. Had he fucked up? Did he say something wrong? Did she not want to? Was she in shock? Was she trying to find a way to turn him down gently?! Trying not to panic, and failing just a bit, Branch carefully turned his head to look at the woman in his arms, “Poppy?”

And found she was asleep, breath's even and deep and completely dead to the world and the proposal he had just cited.

Biting back a silent groan, Branch tilted his head over the arm rest and stared at the ceiling. Of course, why wouldn't this happen?! The universe truly must hate him if it had allowed him to finally ask Poppy only for her to be asleep and having missed the entire thing. Great, just effing great, now he would have to get up the confidence to try again and after three failed attempts he was starting to think maybe he shouldn't. But, as the beautiful girl in arms would tell him, he needed to get back up again and not give up. And it said something about her impact on him when he knew after a little time moping about the newest failed attempt he would do just that.

Besides, he couldn't fail four times in a row, right?

4.

Another few weeks later and Branch was in the midst of planning something the would surely be his best plan yet when Poppy had decided a spontaneous camping trip up in the mountains would be fun. Unable to deny her but secretly lamenting the lost chance of being able to ask her under the fireworks display that was happening that weekend, Branch had agreed. So they packed up the car and drove off for a weekend spent in nature. Which normally would have thrilled Branch but he was still sort of disappointed in the loss of another romantic plan.

However, even though she had no idea she had off railed another proposal attempt, Poppy still managed to cheer him up with her natural exuberance and joy. And the more he thought about, a proposal under the stars with nothing but the quiet sounds of nature around them would be better anyway. He wouldn't have to compete with the sounds of the fireworks and worry about whether Poppy would hear him correctly or not. Yeah, this would be far better and far more romantic. So by the time they reached the campsite, Branch was in a higher mood then when they left, plans already formed around what he'd cook and how he would go about creating the perfect mood.

Arriving at the campsite in the late evening, Branch decided he'd wait until the following night to enact his grand plan, he'd waited this long after all. So he and Poppy went about building their campsite, throwing up the tent and while she piled the sleeping bags, blankets and pillows they had brought into a proper nest, he went to find them some firewood. Soon they had a nice cozy fire to sit by and after a quick meal of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, they were cuddled up in Branch's chair, Poppy having abandoned hers in favor of his lap. And having his loving, cheerful, kind girlfriend snuggled up in his lap had almost made Branch abandon all plans and just propose right there, he stopped himself. Waiting one more day wouldn't kill him, plus Poppy was already half asleep and he didn't want a repeat of his attempt on the couch. So, picking her up and carting her off to get settled in the tent, he quickly doused the flames before joining her, falling asleep with her in his arms and images of tomorrow night dancing in his head.

Too bad he hadn't foreseen the incident that had occurred the next day.

After a morning spent cuddling, flirting and in all good mood, something Poppy made sure to tease him about saying she had been right that the trip would be a good thing, his pink whirlwind had suggested a little hike after lunch. The day was perfect for it, sunny, a little breezy with fluffy white clouds drifting by in the sky, so Branch had agreed. Never mind that he was looking forward to the evening once the stars came out. So packing up some water bottles, trail mix, a few energy bars and gummy candies, they had set off on the local hiking trail.

Poppy of course either filmed or took pictures of anything she saw that she liked, which was almost any flower or butterfly that passed by and Branch was content to just let her be herself, in far too good a mood to be his usual sarcastic self. Well, almost, he did try to act normal as to not tip Poppy off. But she had still noticed something and when she asked him what had in such a good mood, he simply replied with why wouldn't he be with her by his side? Which had earned him a giggle and few kisses as she called him a flirt. Which, really, he wasn't going to deny that because he was flirting, the thought of finally, finally asking her to marry him making him almost giddy. Yes, he was still nervous as hell but this was the forth time he was trying and he'd be damned if he was going to let that stop him again.

Eventually they had arrived on top of a cliff overlooking the forest, the sight rather breathtaking. After a moment of admiration, Poppy was back to taking pictures and talking about nice everything was and Branch nodded and smiled back at her but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't help as he watched Poppy gush as she was prone to do but to imagine the future, with her walking down the aisle in a gorgeous dress made by the twins, veil fluttering behind her as all their friends and family watched. And then she'd step up to him and exchange vows before they were dubbed husband and wife and he just knew she'd jump into his arms for that kiss as everyone cheered for them. Of course that little daydream soon came to a bursting stop with the next following of events.

There had been a rustling of bushes and before they knew it a deer was jumping out and running off, making both of them jump. Poppy had let out a little squeak and unfortunately for Branch, as he jumped back shocked out of his fantasy, he had gone a little too far and part of the cliff broke from under him, making him off balance and tumbling down to a lower ledge.

“Braaaaanch!!!” Poppy's scream echoed in his ears as he groaned, trying to regain his bearings.

“Branch, are you alright?!” Poppy cried down at him, worry clear in her voice.

“Y-yeah..I'm fi-Aaagggh!!!” Branch groaned, barely having sat up before having to clutch at his arm. Carefully pushing himself up, he pulled his hand away to find it covered in blood and groaned again as he covered his wound back up to stem the bleeding. Great, just fucking great. He was injured. And all because of a stupid deer. At least Poppy was okay. Looking up to check on her, his vision swam briefly and another moan of pain escaped him. Great, he probably had a concussion too.

“Branch! Branch, are you okay?!” Poppy was asking again, having wiggled her way down the steep incline to kneel beside him. She made a noise of distress of seeing him hurt and carefully cupped his jaw in her hands, “Hey. Hey, what can I do to help? Are you hurt anywhere else?!”

“I-I don't...” He hissed as pain pulsed through him, “Don't think so...Might have a concussion though...” He cursed under his breath before telling her to look in his bag for bandages, taking that brief moment of distraction to pat the inside pocket of his vest to make sure the ring was still safe. Which it was, so at least there was that.

Poppy quickly dug into his backpack, finding his first aid kit and pulling out the gauze roll. “Can you move your hand?” She asked softly, cringing at the sight as he did so, “Oh dear...That-That looks really bad....” She sniffed and Branch was about to start comforting her, telling her it probably looked worse than it was but she began to carefully move his sleeve away, causing another hiss to escape him. “Sorry...” She mumbled, wrapping his arm as quickly and gently as she could, sniffing and blinking back tears.

“Hey...” He said, squinting at her because damn his head really hurt, “It's gonna be fine. Please don't cry, Sunshine..”

“I know, I know...I just....that was so scary.” She wiped at her eyes and sniffed again, making Branch want to hold her and comfort her until she calmed down but it hurt to move just about everything. So he did the only thing he could at the moment and carefully brushed his knuckle over her knee, murmuring it was going to okay.

It was about then that someone was calling down to them and they looked up to see a forest ranger had found them. After Poppy explained what happened and that they could use a little help, she quickly finished wrapping his arm up. The next series of events happened rather quickly, at least they did for Branch who's consciousness was starting to go in and out a little and he struggled to stay awake. The ranger had help them off the ledge before helping Poppy carry him back to their camp, where she quickly began to pack everything up. The ranger assured her that he'd keep anything that was left behind and they could come get it later and that getting Branch to a hospital was most important. So then began Poppy's slightly frantic drive to the nearest hospital as Branch had continued his battle with staying awake.

In the end, everything was indeed alright. Branch had to have a good fifteen stitches in his arm and had to stay over night for observation because of the concussion but other than a few other scrapes and bruises, he was fine. But the incident had once again derailed any proposal plans that once he was patched up and allowed a moment alone, Branch had cursed the universe for. Couldn't he have one attempt not go awry?! Yes, sure, there had been other times he could have asked but damn it all, he wanted to do it right! He wanted a romantic scene to ask the love of his life to be his wife and not have it be an off hand mention or after a serious injury!! Was that too much to ask for?! Apparently it was.

So, slumping back into his pillows, Branch stewed and cursed the universe. And eventually started planning attempt number five.

And it had to work, it just had too!

5.

Once it was apparent that Branch was fully healed and recovered about a month later, Poppy suggested another weekend trip to celebrate, though this time it was to the beach. Branch wasn't completely set on the idea, worries of how another proposal attempt could be ruined swarming his head, but once again he really couldn't deny Poppy anything. And she was so excited to go see the sea and enjoy the scenery, ever after he pointed out that the weather wouldn't really be right for any swimming. But ever the optimist, Poppy had said there was lots more to do than just swim and so they made reservations at a hotel and went off for a weekend by the sea.

And as he predicted, the weather had been on the cooler side and slightly overcast but that hadn't stopped Poppy from convincing him to travel around all the shops the little ocean town had to offer. And he had to admit, once again, that she was right. It hadn't been all bad walking along the boardwalk and stopping by whatever little shop or stand caught her attention. Plus her excitement was so genuine and true, Branch couldn't help but eventually relax and have fun too. So they spent the afternoon slipping in and out of various stores, some with pointless, cute nick-knacks, some with clothes and accessories that he and Poppy threw on for selfies or she modeled for him, other with oddities such as seaside myths. They had enjoyed some sea-salt ice-cream at some point before dipping into a little hidden book store and then they stopped for a dinner of fish and chips.

Now they were walking down the beach, hand in hand with Poppy happily swinging their arms between them as the sun sank slowly over the horizon. And Branch had to admit, now would be a pretty good time to try again. They were alone, the few other people on the beach far enough way that they wouldn't somehow get in the way, the setting was calm and relaxing with the sounds of waves gently lapping at the shore as the setting sun painting the sky beautiful pinks and oranges, and Poppy was none the wiser to burning the question that had been lodged in his throat for months now. And nothing was going to stop him now. So, stopping and playfully swinging her around so he could pull her into an embrace, Branch pulled her close for a soft kiss.

When they parted, Poppy giggling lightly as her eyes shone with love, Branch calmly stated, “I love you~”

“Heehee~ I love you too~” Poppy giggled, leaning in for another kiss that Branch was happy to return before the slowly parted once more.

“So there's...something I wanna say...” And ask but he didn't want to give it away just yet. And boy did he hope she didn't notice how his heart had started pumping in his chest. This was it, he finally going to ask Poppy to spend the rest of their lives together and even though this was his fifth attempt, the nerves had returned like it was that first try again.

“I'm all ears, My man~” The pinkette said with a grin, nuzzling her nose against his as she settled her arms around his neck.

Deep breath and ignore the flush that came anytime she called him 'her man', “Well...you see..” Please don't let her notice just how stuttering he was becoming, “You are...the greatest gift I could ask for and I-” And before any more could be said a loud, long horn of a boat sounded, causing both to jump and to look toward the ocean where in the distance a ship could be seen. Huffing, and not about to let one measly horn blast stop him, not this time, Branch tried to continue as Poppy giggled lightly, “Right. As I was saying...” Another deep breath, he could do this, “I love you so much and-” Another three blasts of the horn stopped him again and he glared at the ship as Poppy started to laugh quietly. “Anyway. What I'm trying to say, Poppy, is-” And another long, drawn out horn had him groaning before calling out toward the sea, “Oh come on!!!”

Poppy was now full on laughing, laying her head on his chest as he stewed about the stupid boat, before getting a slight grip on herself. Reaching up, she cupped his face and ran her thumbs over his cheeks, “Branch. Hee~ Branch, it's okay! Let me guess, you have a new poem for me?”

He did but that wasn't what he had been about to say. Still he grumbled, looking off to the side, “Maybe...” He also had a proposal he just couldn't seem to get out before something went wrong.

“Then...~” Poppy started, bringing his face back towards her so she could nuzzle their noses together again, “Why don't we go back to our hotel so you can tell it to me where we won't be interrupted? And then you can tell me all my favorites as you...do other things to me~” She then sealed her offer with a deep kiss. One Branch sank into with a sigh but not without lamenting silently the derailment of yet another proposal. Sure, he supposed he could always try again later that night but something in his gut told him it wouldn't be the right time. He just wanted to propose to Poppy in a romantic setting without anything stopping him! Was that too much to ask for?! Apparently...

“Come on,” Poppy murmured, eyes glazed with want as she pulled away, “We can go take a nice warm bubble bath as you recite your newest piece to me~”

Branch hummed and let her take the lead back to their hotel, still brooding over his latest failure. This was five times now he had been stopped and it was starting to wear down his confidence that he'd ever be able to ask her. Which meant it was probably time to ask for help from her dad and possibly Suki and Smidge if he actually wanted to succeed. Sighing quietly to himself, he squeezed Poppy's hand and hoped that the next attempt would finally be the one.

He could only hope, right?

+1.

Poppy hummed a joyful tune as she walked down the hallway to her apartment, another day of party planning behind her. She still couldn't believe some days that she got to do one of the things she loved most for a living! And she was her own boss! Well...sort of...Sky Toronto was still sort of her boss, sort of her partner but that didn't matter! She got to help people plan out their very best parties! And it was soooo satisfying! Especially after long days like today when her clients had a specific vision they wanted done. Which was fine because everyone deserved to have whatever they wanted to be happy with the party they were throwing but boooy, did it tired her out! But that was fine too because she was now home where her wonderful boyfriend hopefully had dinner waiting for them.

Coming up to their door, and smiling as she always did when she caught sight of their door plaque she'd made, she opened it up, singing proudly, “I'm hooooome~!” Before a fantastically delicious scent hit her nose and she groaned. “Ooooh my goooosh~!” She quickly dropped her purse and came around to the kitchen as her stomach gave a rumble, “That smells amazing! Did you make enchiladas?!”

Branch chuckled, that warm, fond sound that always melted her insides a little as he finished pulling the dish out of the oven, “I did. I even made them...chicken enchiladas like you said you wanted.”

“Yeeeessss~!” Poppy hissed happily, “Yes, yes, yes! I am starving!” She excitedly through her arms around him once his hands were free in a tight hug, “You are the best boyfriend ever!” After pulling him down for a quick, grateful kiss, the pinkette pulled away for a little happy dance. “Oooh, I can't wait to dig in! What else did you make?!”

Another one of those warm, fond chuckles came from the blue-haired hottie she had a claim on and he gestured to the stove, “Some Mexican Rice and..” He led her gaze to the table where some different dips and chips sat, “Some sides.”

“Aaaah~! Yes! Your guacamole is the best!!!” Poppy scurried over and took a chip full of green dip, humming in delight at the tangy taste and did another little happy dance as she stuffed another chip into her mouth. “Gosh! D'ish ish shooo goood~!”

“Do you maybe want a plate full or do you wanna continue dancing in place as you eat over the table?” Branch asked, amusement ringing through his tone.

“Oh, haha!” Poppy responded, hands on her hips, “I can't help it! I told you I am staving! Mrs. Sparks ran me all over town looking for just the right party venue and I barely had time to eat lunch. But I did!” She added quickly knowing he would scold her for not eating lunch. “Anyway, once we finally found the right place, I started throwing out ideas for decorations and food and I think we've got a nice solid base now!”

“Sounds like you a had a busy day.” He grinned as she nodded, stuffing another chip into her mouth, “Also sounds like you might need a margarita.”

“You made margaritas?!” Poppy cried, excitedly, looking at him with wide, happy eyes. Oh, she officially loved this man!!! “Can we have them blended?!” She asked, bouncing happily when he nodded and turned to get the pitcher out of the fridge, telling her to get the blender out. “Yeessss~!” She cheered, already halfway to the cabinet to pull out of the appliance. As she set it out on the counter and watched him place the pitcher on the table before getting in the freezer for ice, the thought that this was her life, that she had such a wonderful, thoughtful and sweet boyfriend by her side made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And that she wanted this for the rest of her life. She wanted to come home after a long day to dinner or even surprise him in return with the same, she wanted long, cuddly movies nights and lazy mornings in spent in bed. She wanted picnics and romantic date nights, days spent at home filled with laughter and singing or the occasional quiet as they both worked on their respective hobbies. Games nights with friends and maybe, just maybe...one day an adorable child that looked like the two of them. Poppy wanted it all with Branch right by her side in every way possible. So without really thinking about she suddenly said, “Marry me.”

“WHAT?!?!” Branch sputtered, pulling out of the freezer with a wide eyed, shocked expression, staring at her like she had lost her mind.

It took a moment for her to actually realize what she'd said but then she was beaming and nodding, bouncing over next to him, because yes, she very much wanted to marry this man, “You heard me! Marry me!!”

Branch stared and kept staring and eventually he hid his face in a hand as the freezer door closed and Poppy was beginning to worry when his shoulders began to shake. At first she thought maybe he was crying but then the quiet chuckling came which soon turned into full blown laughter and he was leaning against the fridge to support himself. Poppy pouted at him and crossed her arms, “I'm serious, Branch! Don't laugh at me!”

He tried and failed to say something a few times, each times getting cut off by more guffaws then before, before he gestured for her to stay where she was and turned to go down the hallway. Poppy was very confused, and a little hurt, that he was laughing because she meant what she'd said but she didn't have time to think much more on it as he came back, still chuckling. Standing in front of her, he finally got a grip on himself and grinned at her, stray snickers still coming and going as he reached out to cup her cheek, “I'm not laughing at you, Sunshine. Promise. I'm laughing because...” He took a deep breath before cupping his hands around something and bringing it into her view, “Because I've been trying to ask you the same thing for months.”

Poppy gasped, hands flying to her mouth, as she saw the small velvet box opened on his palm containing the prettiest ring she'd ever seen. A golden band that held a round, sparkling blue topaz in it's center, flanked by two smaller pink gems, the metal band twisted around them to hold them in place. “Oh Branch...” She sniffed, grinning behind her hands, because of course that was the reasoning behind his sort of off behavior the last few months, before crying, “Yes!”

He smirked at her, blue eyes twinkling, “Pretty sure that's suppose to be my line. You did ask first.”

“Oooooh!!!” She growled, well and truly starting to cry now as she grinned winder than ever before, “Just-Just shut up and put that ring on my finger!!”

“So demanding.” He cooed, smile just as wide and eyes damp as he did just that. Giving her hand a look that said he was finally happy to see that ring on her finger before he brought it up to lay a kiss on it.

Then they were both laughing and Branch was scooping her up and twirling her around, hugging her close. Poppy cried as she laughed, burying her face in his shoulder, the unbelievable feeling that she was engaged coursing through her as Branch spun them around. Soon he stopped and she lifted her face to see he was crying and grinning she as she was and she felt another giggle come before they both leaned in for a kiss. Kissing him with all that she had, they stood there, her in his arms as they moved their mouths against one another's as their tears mingled. Pulling back, both breathless and smiling and so, so happy, Poppy looked into Branch's eyes and chirped, “I love you~!”

“I love you too, Sunshine.” He grinned, the expression lighting up his face like she loved to see, “And I will for the rest of our lives.”

“Good~ Because so will I~” And she pulled him for another celebratory kiss and another and another before they were both laughing and twirling again. And eventually they got to that dinner, now a celebratory one, and made plans to tell everyone the following day but for now...for now they were just going to bask in the haze of excitement and happiness that surrounded them as they looked toward a very happy and bright future together.

~*~*~*~*~RMG*~*~*~*~

Always gotta go full cheese at the ending right? Anyway, this was obviously done a tad differently than I normally do just because I tried to keep within Branch's perspective and then Poppy's when I normally write both in conjecture to each other and it was a bit of a challenge but I'm really happy with how this came out! And I hope you all enjoyed it too!

Until next time!

[kawaiijellymonster]

So I’ve got a note in my notes app called “Fanfic lines that should be in a hall of fame” and it’s gotten pretty long so I figure I’ll toss it on here so yall can enjoy it, most of them are: mha, zukka, miraculous ladybug, harry potter, and I think one is from a comment on a hannibal amv, But here you go:

Stain sold papers because he just had an aura about him that drew people in, like people who slow down to look at car crashes.

“The Rumor Come Out: Does Todoroki Shoto is Gay?”

Izuku spent the next week going to his normal martial arts classes, studying, and drinking gallons of coffee. Not healthy but he could deal with it. His body was never meant to be permanent.

So no one was watching when Mei placed her forehead against his, breath fanning across his face as she spoke. "Wake up Loki… the world needs you."

“No probs ‘lil listener!” Hizashi said, striking a dramatic pose. “I’ll be your DJ all through the night, bringin’ you such rockin’ hits as safety, security and sweet dreams!”

“This is stupid! Screw the waiting and screw these stupid butterflies. They're not paying rent, the little shits--”

Experimenting with unstable genetic mutant abominations is more of an art than a science, really."

Several looks pass across both their faces. “No flying for a month,” Sirius declares. That sucks, actually. But he’s also a hundred percent certain he can get them to cave on that in two weeks tops. “Okay. Is that for the breaking into the Ministry, destroying the Department of Mysteries, making a bargain with Voldemort, or bringing all my friends with me?” “It’s for recklessly endangering your own life again,” Remus says, “and while the punishment very much doesn’t fit the crime, we’re a bit at a loss for what else to do.” “It wasn’t reckless!” he protests. “We had a plan and everything, and we even brought an adult! An adult Order member! Also what else were we supposed to do, let Snape die?” Sirius takes a deep breath, but Remus steps on his foot before he can put it in his mouth. “Which is why you’re only getting flying privileges taken away and not thrown in a cell in Azkaban for our sanity and your safety.” As if any cell could hold him. “I accept your terms.”

“Who’s Theophania?” Sirius asks. Harry hesitates. Perhaps bringing her up was his smartest decision, strategically speaking. “If I tell you you’re not allowed to throw me in Azkaban. Or ground me.” “This isn’t a negotiation,” Sirius repeats. If Blaise has taught him anything, it’s that everything is a negotiation. “She’s a friend.” “And?” Sirius repeats. Remus suddenly grabs onto Sirius’s shoulder, “Wait. Petrifying - during your second year - is Theophania - she’s not the basilisk.” “No, they killed it,” Sirius says automatically. Harry remains silent. “Harry!” He rubs his nose. “It turns out I’m not that good at killing things. Unkilling things, however? My specialty.”

“It’s okay,” Nanaia says, “you don’t know. What do you do when you don’t know something?” “Try something you do know and hope it doesn’t make everything worse?” For some reason, Horace looks sad at that answer, and Dumbledore shifts from one foot to the other. “No,” she says, “you ask for help.” Oh.

“It’ll piss off your son,” he answers bluntly. “Fuck that kid,” Riddle Sr. says

“You played me!” “Like a cheap kazoo”

Batman sighed, before speaking in a voice that was so unlike his usual growl that most of the other League members almost fell out of their chairs. Diana and Clark seemed to be used to it. “Damian,” he started. His voice was still deep, but a regular-deep, instead of I-just-swallowed-six-buckets-of-gravel deep.

“She loved James too,” she assures, and the confidence she says that with allows him to breathe, like someone has let go of his lungs. “It is possible to love more than one person at the same time. She loved your father with the type of love that’s – that was like a shooting star, burning and bright and touching everyone around them. Her love for Severus was different, and in the end it wasn’t the type of love either of them could handle.”

You’re better at it now then many people are after leaving a full apprenticeship, and you’ve only had a year of lessons a couple of times a week instead of years of intensive study. Do you know why that is?” “Luck?” he offers weakly. For some reason, he doesn’t like the direction this is going in. “No,” she says. “To be good at healing, the way you are, the way I am, you need a certain combination of things. Intelligence, power, control, but more than that. Stubbornness, a tricky balance of flexibility and inflexibility, and a constant, brutal assessment over your own skills. And something else.” “A propensity towards poor life choices?” he suggests. Poppy shakes her head, not taking the bait. “No. You have to care. You have to care about everyone, even people you dislike, and you have to care so much that if feels like it’s killing you, you have to care and that care has to hurt, until the only thing that hurts worse than caring is not caring. To be good at this, you have to let it hurt you.”

“You two shouldn’t have bothered dressing formally for Albus, he’s a bitch.” Harry doesn’t have any idea what’s going on, but he’s loving it.  

“It was on the syllabus,” Zuko whispered conspiratorially to his mother. Sokka gasped. “You know I don’t read those!” “This is your own fault then.” “I like to be surprised. The procrastination keeps me humble.”

sometimes you remind me of the stars youre gorgeous and happy and can always brighten me on the darkest days and even when youre dampened you can guide me home

“imagine you are the only person who loves to play chess more than anything but nobody else in the world has ever heard about chess. and then you see a person holding a chessboard. it’s like your whole world was reborn”

"I wanted to be a stripper in middle school," Izuku said. Yup, that's a good cover.

What you’re asking for isn’t fair or right. You can’t ask a person for more than they’re willing to give

In Mei’s words, “You have about five minutes of ‘fuck that one thing in particular.’ Make them count.”

“Mei, let me introduce your new best friend. This is Momo. She has a Quirk that lets her make anything as long as she knows its composition inside and out. All you have to do is buy her dinner,“ Izuku said,

The cameras were looped. The bots were hacked. It was a good day to be a villain.

“None. The alarm never left the building.” “Really? Why is that?” “Mei finished first and decided to do you a favor. However, you've got the fire alarm just starting to go off and that's on a different circuit. Take a fast way down.” “Understood,” Hitoshi drawled. A moment later he was looking back at the crew. “Ladies and Frenchman. We take the express.”

Quinn is talking like that actually answers his question when it really, really doesn’t. “If you don’t start making sense, I’ll cry.”

“You’re one of my best students,” ze says. “You should understand the importance of timing. Speaking of, you’re late for your next class.”

Fuck, he totally is. “Thank you for that very confusing answer. I’ll think of you while crying myself to sleep.”

He’d wondered if that was what bravery was, to be quiet even when you were hurting so much you wanted to scream.

maybe bravery was also running screaming at the thing that nearly killed you, to keep it from killing someone else.

“Apologies are not difficult. Good apologies revolve around three basic points. One, I acknowledge what I did was wrong. Two, I regret that you were harmed. Three, this is how I plan to make sure it does not happen again. That’s all. Apologies are easy.” Then she’d glanced at them all again, evaluating. “And if you become very, very good at your job... they will be the absolute hardest thing you ever do.”

“Even though we’re a bunch of migraine-inducing hellions who are smart enough to know when something is a bad idea and stupid enough to still do it?”

“You’re like the nice china that Al only brings out for Christmas. Except Bruce just realised that I stole it, and chipped it. Maybe it’s time I give it back before I shatter all the pieces.”

she won’t co-parent my perfectly reasonable and well-behaved children.” Clark snorts. “Damian’s trying to stab Tim, right now.”

"Oh, my knight in shining armour. What would I do without you?" the teen droned, placing a dramatic hand on her head. 

"I think you mean 'knight in shining leather', M'Lady. And without me, you would be left alone in this kingdom of lies.”

"It's a kingdom, alright. It'll topple sooner or later." "That's the spirit!" Adrien laughed.

Here’s something that a harbinger of tragedy would never find the courage to admit: there are moments in between the bitter self-hatred and the visceral, tangible consequences of your sins in which you almost think you’re worthy of forgiveness; of second chances; of a life beyond your greatest regrets. It’s a unique brand of pain,

“Go directly to horny jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.”

“You can’t wait around for him to be sorry,” Izuku says. He’s quiet now. This isn’t something that’s meant to be shouted. “Maybe he’ll never be sorry. Maybe he doesn’t know he did anything wrong, or he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter.” Cautiously he takes a step forward. “You can’t depend on the people who hurt you to be the ones to make it better, or it’s never going to get better. They’ll only disappoint you, or hurt you even worse, and then they’ll be gone and you’ll be waiting forever.”

Midoriya may be strong as hell, but that just means looking out for him has to be a team effort.

How would his new adoring fans react if they knew he raised a villain? He's no All-Might. His pillar's made of toothpicks, and it's not gonna take much to crack it.”

Tensei approaches Rei, “Okay, this plan is childish, unprofessional, and a discourtesy to this school's reputation. That being said, when do we nail the little twat?

Hinata is dead. Deceased. Passed away, laid to rest with a headstone that reads Here Lies Hinata Shouyou, Killed By A Wink And A Blown Kiss.

It’s dangerous to be a bad father when you have life insurance

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Puella Magi Madoka Magica Episode 7

*Finishes re-rewatching Treasure Planet* Ah, what a good movie. That and I,Robot and Terminator 2 and Captain America: The Winter Soldier and Star Wars and- Wait, why did I start watching all these movies again? I remember it had something to do with Transhumanism. Something about contracts and a Bunny-cat being a dick and girls who were actually lichs… Oh crap, the thread! That is a very big moon.

Sayaka’s slowly walking back to her apartment, her face shadowed and… what, seriously? Madoka isn’t there? What the heck, Madoka? You just let your friend leave on her own after that whammy? She’s entered her apartment now, not being very quiet about closing the door. Does she live on her own? If it turns out she’s an orphan too I’m going to snap. Lights on, Sayaka tosses her Soul Gem (which is actually herself, what the heck) onto the table KYUBEY. GET OUT. BACK TO THE LIST CORNER WITH YOU. “You tricked us, didn’t you?” She didn’t even have to turn around and see he was there, did she? It’s obvious that the little jerk would waltz in uninvited. Oh you are such an asshole! “I just didn’t explain exactly what form you’d be taking to do that”? Oh yeah, that’s such a minor detail, not worth mentioning, really! “Because you never asked.” Because they never asked?! Informed consent, Bunny-cat! Learn it! Aw HELL no. You don’t get to use “even Mami never noticed to the very end” as an excuse. Ever think that maybe if she knew the risks she wouldn’t have worn her literal soul as a hairpin?! The little jerk keep on listing the advantages of Soul Gems. He really doesn’t see anything wrong with what he’s done, does he? Kyubey? What are you doing with Sayaka’s Soul Gem? What the hell is wrong with you, Bunny-cat? You want to show how relatively fragile a human body is to pain? Fine, there are plenty of other ways to show that without inflicting Sayaka with enough pain to make her collapse! WHY ARE YOU STILL DOING IT?! We get it, Soul Gems dampen pain reception between the mind and body! Stop torturing Sayaka! Please, she’s crying! Friggen finally. Sayaka, you need to get up, grab that little demon, and chuck him out the window. And never let him get close to your Gem, alright? As Sayaka recovers, Kyubey is rambling about how Magical Girls can control the degree of pain reception on their own, but he doesn’t recommend it at it lowers reaction time. ...wow, ok. Even I can see that manipulation at work there. You inflict Sayaka with severe pain, and then ‘offhandedly mention’ that she can make it so she feels no pain at all? Real subtle, Bunny-cat. Because why worry about the well-being of these girls when you can make them that much more aggressive in getting you food? And then he uses the “I’ve granted the Wish that you (unintentionally) sold your soul for” card. Yep, I just saw the show’s familiar torture one of the main characters, manipulate her into unlocking a pain-free fighting style (who needs the warnings that a body part is damaged, anyway?) and claim that she owes him for services rendered. So of course, we go into the bright and poppy Intro of Lies! Ugh. Get out of Madoka’s room, you jerk. And get away from Mami, too! Episode 7: Can you face your true feelings? It’s school the next day, seems that Sayaka skipped out. Wonder if the attendance office would accept a “I was tricked out of my soul by a Bunny-cat” as an excused absence. Aw. Looks like she’s been curled up under her blankets since last night, she didn’t even change her clothes. But hey, why worry about what you meat-puppet is wearing, right? On Fancy Rooftop now, Madoka’s meeting with Homura. Hey, that’s right, she knew about the “MGs are actually inside the Soul Gem” thing, right? Why didn’t you say anything, Homura? Damn! Madoka’s actually calling Homura out on it, asking if she really did know… but she says she tried telling others in the past. And nobody ever believed her. Ouch. I mean… yeah, it’s a really farfetched story. And I guess the only way to prove it would be for her to purposefully get far away from her Soul Gem. And that’s way too big a risk to take. Now they’re talking about how Kyubey doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong. Interesting how Homura’s calling him an it now, saying it cannot comprehend human values. I’ll be using that for Bunny-cat from now on, matches the clinical detachment. Sure, it insists that “a (short) lifetime of fighting Witches to feed me” is equal to “granting a single Wish”. Yup, Madoka’s not agreeing to the exchange rate. Healing one person’s non-fatal injuries does not equal service as a Magical Lunch Lady. But Homura’s simply saying that it was a miracle, something impossible made possible. ...oh stop being so moody, Homura. You can’t know that medical science would never be able to heal his hands. The guy’s still in middle school, for crying out loud, he has his whole life ahead of him! Just because current science isn’t able to do it, doesn’t mean you should assume that it never will. I will concede that a miracle, a proper miracle, is a Big Deal. I’m a little more iffy on whether it is of greater value that an entire human life. But you will NOT convince me that healing one person’s hands is equal to the life of a Magical Girl. Ooh, good point Madoka! For all of Homura’s “give up on her” talk, if she hadn’t become a Magical Girl then Madoka, Hitomi, and all the other people in that factory would have died! (Urgh, I’m am so torn between my I WAS RIGHT from that episode and my understanding now of what becoming a Magical Girl does) Oh. “Don’t confuse gratitude with responsibility.” That’s… that’s pretty heavy. Homura’s hammering home the point that Madoka is just a human, who has no ability to save Sayaka Miki. She shouldn’t try to ‘repay’ Sayaka to alleviate her sense of guilt. ...wow. That is… wow. Somewhere the ghost of Thomas Hobbes is applauding Homura’s self-interest philosophy. Well, ok. I guess one’s sense of morality can be slightly affected by being an undead magic user. It’s a lot easier to justify self-interest when the Muggles you know die of old age and your associates keep getting killed by these monsters. Why stay constrained by human ethics when you see yourself as no longer human? So does that make Mami a Pro-Human Transhuman, then? Sayaka’s still in her bed… Oh. Oh DAMN. That’s… Um. I mean, it’s, uh, not really that bad? I mean, just because your soul now fits in your pocket that doesn’t mean you can’t still date and… Damn. That’s something I didn’t even consider. The basis of Sayaka making the Contract was to heal Kamijo, and we have to admit there was a degree of “I can get his affection” in that Wish. But with the realization of how she relates to her former body now? Not to mention the whole “eternally young” thing. Damn it, Bunny-cat. The hell? Who just spoke? Kyoko? She wants to talk? Sayaka’s dressed and following Kyoko through the park now, who’s busy chomping down apples. Huh, she says she’s ok with the whole zombie thing. Well, you can’t deny that the powers of a Magical Girl can be useful, I suppose if you focus enough on the benefits you can rationalize the whole lich thing. Sayaka calls her out on her “you get what you pay for” attitude. Although I’m suddenly wondering if she paid of all the food she’s been eating. Having MG powers probably makes it easier to get five-finger discounts. Kyoko cheerfully agrees. Huh. “And if you live only to benefit yourself, you’ve got to pay for your own mistakes too.” And suddenly you’ve made self-interest sound noble. If you don’t involve others, then you don’t- *Suddenly remembers that Kyoko has advocated letting Familiars kill bystanders in order to get more Grief Seeds* Nope, never mind, still hate you. The sun’s sinking lower as the two girls reach some sort of old building, which Kyoko kicks down the door of. Broken stained glass? So is this an old church or art gallery or something? Well, whatever this place is, it’s certainly seen better days.

We're at the dilapidated stained-glass building, I'm thinking it's a church of some sort as the camera's looking at an altar sort of thing in front of where the biggest window would be.

Sayaka's asking why Kyoko had her come out here, Kyoko says it's a long story and tosses her an apple. Huh, is this like when she offered Homura pocky, a sign of trust?

Ooh, but Sayaka just tossed it to the ground. I don’t mean to nitpick, Sayaka, but it looks like Kyoko’s extending an olive branch here. You don’t have to like the hard-line MG, but maybe a truce could

WHOA ok Kyoko did not like that, she rushed forward and his lifting Sayaka off the ground. And that is a gruesome crackling sound, I really hope that’s just her uniform.

“Don’t ever waste food. I’ll kill you if you do.” Don’t waste food around Kyoko, got it.

Yup, Kyoko is bodily lifting Sayaka by the collar, until she calms down and lets her drop. Then she picks up the apple, dusts it off and puts it back in the bag.

Ooh, new music? Backstory for Kyoko? I still hate her for the whole “letting Familiars go” thing, but after my Homura rage was shown to be a little excessive and Kyubey proved to be a dick I’m willing to hear this story out.

“See… this was my dad’s church.” Aha, it is a church! Wait, ‘was’?

Aw, paper-cutout stick puppets! That’s adorable. We see Kyoko’s pastor dad get passed by two smaller cutouts… little sister? Aw dammit, this is another “How a MG became an orphan” story, isn’t it?

“He thought that in order to save a new generation, we needed to have a new religion.” Well, hopefully without sparking any religious debate, that sounds pretty good to me. Not quite sure about the “preaching stuff that wasn’t in the Bible” part, but he seems earnest at least.

So people stopped attending the church, and he got excommunicated by the overall Church? Harsh.

“From the outside, he probably looked like some raving cultist.” Good to see that Kyoko recognizes that while she believes (believed?) in what he taught she understands it could be seen as radical. Although was it really necessary to dump water on the guy, random person? Yes he’s preaching at your house, but that doesn’t mean you should treat him like that.

Side note: dumping water out a window? Do people still do that, now? Or is this Backstory set in a time when it was more common? After all, with the whole meat puppet thing, I don’t think it’s that much of a stretch to place this way back when.

“It got to the point where our entire family didn’t even have food to eat.” Oh, explanation for why she always has food! Nice touch, show!

...damn it, this show’s making my sympathize with the character who argued for Muggles as Monster Chow by showing how her family was starving… ok, fine, Kyoko. You can have a cushion for your chair.

Nice art style here! Showing Kyoko playing with these paper stick puppets while the girls’ art style stands out against the background.

Little Girl Kyoko just couldn't understand why all this was happening. Why people couldn’t just hear her father out and see that he was right.

And then she met Kyubey.

“And so I asked Kyubey to make everyone listen seriously to what my dad said.”

Oh. Oh no.

The very next day the church was packed full of people again. And each of their paper cutouts has red eyes and an image of Kyoko’s Soul Gem on their chest.

Damn it, Kyubey. She asked for people to listen to her dad, not get mind-controlled by him.

Bunny-Cat Jerk: “What’s the difference? They’re hearing the same words either way.”

It must have seemed so perfect. Her dad’s church is doing well, and she’s got cool new superpowers and monsters to fight. Her dad got to preach to the world, and she took care of the Witches. So she threw herself into Witch-hunting. Because between the two of them, they could save the world.

Hey, cutout of a taller woman holding hands with them! Wasn’t sure there was a mom in the picture until now.

But then her dad found out. And when he found out that the people were compelled to come by magic rather than belief, he “flipped out”. He called Kyoko “a witch who tainted people’s hearts”. WOW. Ok, in any magical setting that would be some harsh words, but when the demons are called Witches…when she hunted real Witches every night...

Oh no.

Yup. Orphan story.

Damn it. This doesn’t excuse her letting innocents die, but when it resulted in her father killing the rest of the family and then committing suicide…

I’ll be right back, going to get Kyoko some pocky to snack on.

“My wish destroyed my whole family.” Kyoko says that because she went and made a wish for someone else, without really knowing what he wanted, it brought everyone misfortune.

“Right then, I vowed in my heart never to use magic to help anyone else again.” Ouch. So Kyoko’s self-interest stems from the results of her Wish. If helping others only ends up in misfortune, then it is best to use if for your sake and yours alone.

This show seems to really be stressing a philosophy of ‘equal and opposite reaction’. Is karma the right term? “If you wish for hope, an equal amount of despair will be rained down upon you, too”. Seems that’s what Kyoko believes now, seeing it as preserving the world’s balance.

Sayaka asks Kyoko why she told her all of this. Huh, Kyoko really is trying to teach Sayaka, isn’t she? Like Homura’s trying to keep Madoka from making a contract and losing her soul, Kyoko’s trying to get Sayaka to, from her perspective, stop wasting her energy on helping others when whatever good she does will be countered by despair… I don’t think that Sayaka’s going to really approve of this philosophy.

Sayaka questions where “teaching others about how the world sucks” falls in a self-interest philosophy, Kyoko says that she’s trying to stop Sayaka from a life that will bring more regrets. You’ve already “paid your dues”, time to get your money’s worth! (Unintentionally) sold your soul? Then live it up on earth!

“I was really wrong about you.” Sayaka?

Oh! She’s apologizing for her initial opinion of Kyoko. But she still doesn’t regret making her wish for someone else’s sake. Go Sayaka!

“I’ve decided that I’ll never regret anything. Ever.” Um. Go Sayaka? I mean, good words, but I’m not sure that anyone could live up to that.

Huh. You don’t think you paid too high a price? We are still talking about your soul here, right?

“Because, depending on how we use it, this magic can be used for wonderful things.” Alright! Ally of Justice, everyone! Screw how dark this show’s gotten, we can still turn this around! Right?

Right?

Oh dear. She wants to know where Kyoko got her apples from.

Aw crap. Just when I get all excited about Sayaka not getting turned away from being a Hero, she goes full-on Paladin. And not the Paladin that you want in your party, either, but the “Almighty Babysitter” type a DM would use to keep the players in check. Yes, you want the rogue to exercise some self-control, but nobody likes partying with a Lawful Stupid character.

Sayaka. Kyoko just told you her Tragic Backstory in the ruins of her father’s church. Are you really going to chastise her about where she stole a bag of apples? Yes, yes you are. *sigh*

Kyoko is not happy about her advice getting so totally rejected, angrily eats an apple while Sayaka walks away.

Well this is just great. I can admire Sayaka not regretting her choice, but you do remember your last ‘fight’ with the more-experienced MG? It did not end well. What makes you think you could do better next time?

Sayaka’s walking to school now, I assume the next day. Hey, Madoka and NPC, I mean Hitomi! All three are walking along, Sayaka claims she was feeling sick the day before-

Hey, Kamijo! Oh. Kamijo. And Sayaka didn’t know he was going back to school

In class Kamijo’s the center of attention, chatting about he’s aiming to set aside the crutches next week. Madoka suggests that Sayaka go talk with him, but she says that she’s fine.

Closeup of Hitomi?

Wait, why are they at Fancy Food Court again? And it’s just Sayaka and Hitomi.

“About love.” Wait. Wait, no. No no no NO.

Hitomi has a crush on Kamijo.

Hitomi, please stop. This is…

Hitomi. You have no idea what damage you are causing right now. I understand from your perspective you are just expressing your intent to a friend of yours in an attempt to prevent any bad feelings. That’s commendable, really, a proper thing to do. Good manners.

But this is the boy that Sayaka, while unintentionally, sold her soul to heal.

I am begging you, do not do this.

Great, a deadline. Hitomi’s waiting until after school the next day to confess her feelings to Kamijo, so Sayaka has a chance to.

Well, great.

Later that night, at Sayaka’s apartment complex…

KYUBEY. SCREW YOU.

Bunny-Cat Jerk: “Ah, whatever. Time for my magical lunch ladies to get me more food!”

Madoka’s waiting for Sayaka again. What a good friend. And after the wtfery of the last few days, from listening to Kyoko’s Tragic Backstory to Hitomi’s deadline, Sayaka starts crying. She had a moment that day where she almost regretted something…

Sayaka, it’s ok to regret things. Nobody is perfect-

WOW OK. That’s a little different, thinking “If only I hadn’t saved Hitomi that time…”

Let me try that again. Sayaka, there are things that it is ok to regret, but succeeding in saving a life is not one of them. By all means, never regret that. And stop trying to hold yourself up to Mami’s level, you are at most a few weeks into the job, if not days. You’ll become a worthy Magical Girl in your own time, there’s no shame in that.

And I’m sorry about the Hitomi situation, that you feel that it’s inevitable and there’s nothing you can do because you’re “already dead”. Please, Sayaka. It sucks that your life is now this because of Bunny-Cat’s dick move, and I can’t see a painless way to get out of this. But please, talk with Madoka. Be a good example to Kyoko and Homura. Don’t let the problems of today weigh you down. You are Sayaka Miki, student of Mami Tomoe. You will be a glorious Magical Girl, a hero. Just stay strong.

Sayaka’s doing a little better after Madoka give a shoulder to cry on. Keep being a good friend, Madoka. Now, let’s go save the Muggles!

In what looks like an old construction site…

Kyoko’s there, chomping on a popsicle as she looks at a labyrinth. Are the others in there already?

Oh hey, Homura! She questions why Kyoko is on the sidelines right now, Kyoko says that Sayaka’s fighting a full-fledged Witch tonight. So since it’s sure to drop a Grief Seed, no reason to let the Familiar go to eat more people. As for why she’s letting someone else fight the ‘prey’? She doesn’t answer. Hmm, did Sayaka’s response leave an impact?

Inside the labyrinth, the art style seems to be black silhouettes against a white background.

Hey, this is Sayaka’s theme, isn’t it?

Sayaka’s charging the Witch, but keeps getting blocked by these dragon-head things. She almost reaches the… bonsai tree? But a branch grows and traps her. Madoka runs forward- oh hey, Kyoko’s here and cut her loose! She scoffs about Sayaka’s performance and gets ready to atta- nope, Sayaka tells her to get out of the way, that she’ll do this alone. Are you sure about that, Sayaka? This is a Witch, after all.

Ouch, that’s got to hurt. Good thing she can heal, though.

Wait. Is she laughing?

Um. She’s not dodging anymore, just charging. And now she’s slashing wildly at the Witch while still laughing.

“It’s really true! If I just detach myself…”

Oh no.

Ranubis said:As Sayaka recovers, Kyubey is rambling about how Magical Girls can control the degree of pain reception on their own, but he doesn’t recommend it at it lowers reaction time. ...wow, ok. Even I can see that manipulation at work there. You inflict Sayaka with severe pain, and then ‘offhandedly mention’ that she can make it so she feels no pain at all? Real subtle, Bunny-cat. Because why worry about the well-being of these girls when you can make them that much more aggressive in getting you food?

Well, this is just GREAT. Sayaka’s gone and turned into a Berserker Paladin, hasn’t she?

“...I really don’t feel any pain! *crazed laughter*”

Sayaka. Sayaka, please. Don’t do this. Going into a Berserker Rage never helps.

Can’t you hear Madoka begging you to stop?!

Well. That was certainly a cheery point to end the episode. Last time we discovered that the girls were lichs. Now Sayaka’s gone and started fighting in Berserker Mode. What’ll happen next, Madoka’s Mom gets killed by a Witch?!

Ugh. This show, you guys.

After Credits Picture! And adorable image of Kyoko, Sayaka and Madoka snacking on fish treats, while Sayaka yanks Kyubey away from the bag. If only this was the show that we had…

“I’m going to be a different kind of magical girl from all of you...That’s what I’ve decided...I don’t need thanks or recompense. I’ll be the one magical girl who won’t use her magic for herself.”

Well, that’s a good Hero Statement. Good for you Saya-

Episode 8: I Was Stupid… So Stupid

...what. No. NO. THAT IS A HORRIBLE EPISODE TITLE, WHY WOULD YOU-

[signs-of-the-moon]

Moon Rise: Chapter 10

Making her way through the bramble tunnel proved itself to be more difficult as she returned home. Pain shot up Swiftpaw's leg as it snagged on a bit of the brambles as she made her way inside. Her ear burned as she turned and accidentally scraped the sensitive open wound against a thorn. As commanded, she took herself right over to the medicine den with no argument as soon as she was safely in camp. She had grown so accustomed to just walking inside and seeing Mistypaw that she didn't even think twice about it until she saw that the fluffy silver she-cat wasn't there. She blinked as she registered that it was only Snowfrost who was left in the den, as well as an unconscious Goldensong. Snowfrost was busying herself with checking her herb stock when she scented Swiftpaw's blood. Her ears pricked out of instinct and she immediately knew which herbs to grab. Without even speaking to Swiftpaw, the lynx point molly already had a spread ready for her.

"You there, come sit," she commanded, pointing to an empty fern nest with her tail-tip. Swiftpaw hobbled her way over to it and sat down, leaving her bad leg to stick out a more comfortable angle. Snowfrost approached her, giving her ear and foreleg a sniff.

"What happened?"

"I was battle training and things got a little more intense than they should have," Swiftpaw replied. Snowfrost only responded with a small "hm" before dragging a pile of flower petals resting on a leaf in front of her with her paw. She bent down, taking a couple of them into her mouth. She began to chew, spitting them back out onto another leaf. She dabbed her paw into the freshly made poultice, smearing it onto Swiftpaw's bite wound. The white and black patched molly hissed in response.

"That stings!" she spat. Snowfrost fixed her with a hard glare.

"I know, calm down" she growled. "it's supposed to. That means its killing any dirt that might infect the wound. Now keep still, I'm not done with you yet." Snowfrost picked up some more of the petals. This time she grabbed them with her claw, pressing them to Swiftpaw's ear. She squeezed them, the juices flowing into the v-shaped cut and the scratches on her scalp. Swiftpaw winced, resisting the urge to flick her ear.

"What even is that stuff?" she grumbled through gritted teeth, trying to distract herself while the medicine cat worked on her.

"It's marigold," the silver lynx point she-cat informed her as she took some cobwebs to dress Swiftpaw's wounds. "You're lucky I even have any to use at this time. In a few days I'm going to need you to go with Mistypaw to find some, my supplies are running low. For now, I think there'll be enough to last until the new flowers bloom. As long as you don't plan on going around and getting yourself hurt again. Who was the one who attacked you?"

"Rabbitpaw," Swiftpaw responded bitterly. "I guess he got me pretty good."

"Rabbitpaw, hm? I always knew he'd turn out to make a fine future warrior." Snowfrost's tone oddly softened as she spoke of the fluffy tom, like a queen bragging about her kits. "But yes, he did 'get you pretty good.' You ear will be permanently cut open, there's nothing I can do about that. The most I can do is keep infection away while it heals. I think you should stay in here and rest for the remainder of the day. I don't want you jumping around and messing up your dressings while tussling with your friends. Those herbs are too precious to waste." Swiftpaw parted her jaws, about to protest, but was quickly silence with a challenging glare. The young apprentice laid down, tucking her legs under herself. She watched as the lynx point medicine cat gathered what was left of her herbs and put them away. She listened to her quietly count her stock, taking mental notes of what to fetch later with Mistypaw.

"Poppy seeds," Snowfrost whispered at one point, drawing Swiftpaw's attention even more. "I definitely need more poppy seeds. I was sure I had more than this. Where did they all go?" That was strange, Swiftpaw remembered Mistypaw and a warrior named Cowpatch bringing some back fairly recently. A "collecting" warrior, she remembered him being referred to as. What did that even mean? Swiftpaw reminded herself to find that out later. For now, she was more focused on a more pressing question. How was Snowfrost running low on poppy seeds so soon? Cats only take one or two at a time, she recalled Mistypaw telling her. If she remembered right, they were used to help cats calm down and to ease pain. She hasn't heard of many cats needing them within the tine that she'd been around. An unexpected, eerie feeling settled itself upon Swiftpaw, making the fur on the back of her neck stand up involuntarily. It was a perplexing; nothing was wrong right now whatsoever, not that she knew of anyhow. Swiftpaw groomed her chest fur, willing herself to calm down. she needed something to distract herself from the feeling.

"Hey, Snowfrost?" she mewed quietly. The lynx point medicine cat turned her head to look at her. "Can you explain what a collecting warrior is?"

Snowfrost stared at her for a heartbeat. "That's an out of the blue question, but... alright. A collecting warrior is just as it sounds. Warriors who take up that job assist cats by fetching things they need. They often come to me for herbs for the elders or to bring to me, or fetch bedding for the elders and queens." That made sense, Swiftpaw realized she should have been able to figure that out by herself. But this was a good distraction for her, just what she needed. As much as she didn't like Snowfrost, she had to admit the older molly knew her stuff. Now Swiftpaw had a new question to ask.

"I didn't know warriors could take up different jobs. What other jobs are there?"

Snowfrost sighed and turned around to fully face the curious apprentice. She sat down, wrapping her plumed tail around her paws neatly, her herbs forgotten for the time being. "This really is something your mentor should be teaching you about. But, since I am the one whose keeping you here, I might as well entertain you." The look on her silver tabby masked face showed boredom for the subject, but Snowfrost pressed on, if only to get Swiftpaw to shut up and leave her alone afterwards. "There are many jobs you can take on once you are made a warrior. Before your ceremony on the day of your final assessment, you tell Whitestar what you wish to do with your career once you are named," she began to explain, with Swiftpaw hanging on her every word. "To start, there are your typical jobs: Hunting, and Fighting, I'm sure those need no explanation. There is also Guarding, which again is self explanatory. Though from what I hear it can be a tougher job than it seems. You get to watch over our most vulnerable dens, and accompany medicine cats or the leader if they must travel across the border to address another clan. Next there are the more unique jobs. There are the Spy warriors; cats who do what they can to learn secrets about those who may being doing wrong, or are an enemy to the clan. There are the Listeners and Watchers, who go out on patrol and use their special skill in either sight or hearing to aid in things such as border checks and hunting. Den Keepers are very important cats to the clan; they are the warriors who make sure our dens are in order, and help with repairs when a part of camp becomes messy or broken." Snowfrost lifted a paw to groom as she continued. "Another important job is the Code Keeper-"

"Oh oh I know about Code Keepers!" Swiftpaw interrupted. "Dewstone told me about it. The Code Keeper helps the leader and deputy keep law and order by upholding the Warrior Code to an extent where they make it their job to enforce it." She beamed, proud of herself for remembering. Snowfrost twitched her whiskers.

"Yes, very good. After that, there is the Den Mother, who is the most experienced permanent queen in the nursery. Den Mother is a highly respected role in the clan, they are the one responsible for all the kits and queens, and are the most trusted cat in the clan to turn to when you have a problem. And finally, there are the History Keepers; cat who remember all the lore and greatest battles the Land' Star has ever seen." Swiftpaw's eyes sparkled with wonder as she listened to Snowfrost speak. There were so many different things she could do when she'd become a warrior, how would she know what job was right for her to choose? Her head was spinning from the thought.

"Help!" A cry snapped Swiftpaw out of her daze. Snowfrost swung around to face the mouth of the medicine den. Through the ivy veil came a light brown tabby queen, carrying a mewling bundle of brown fur in her jaws. Worry shone in her yellow eyes as she looked at Swiftpaw then at Snowfrost. She padded up to the lynx point molly, gently placing the kit at her paws.

"What is problem now, Cricketsong?" She asked, sounding a bit annoyed. Her tail-tip twitched as if out of impatience. Did Cricketsong bother her a lot?

"My brown kit has a thorn stuck in her rear!" She cried.

"The wool from your nest must have snagged on the brambles when it was brought into camp," Snowfrost explained, bending down to yank out the thorn. She took the tiny prick between her teeth, tugging it out swiftly. The kit let out a sharp squeak of surprise, mewling less than she had when she was first brought to the den. Snowfrost turned to grab another marigold petal out of her stockpile. She took it between her paws and milked it for its juices, squeezing it onto the tiny cut on the kit.

"There now. She should be alright."

"How could you let this happen?" Cricketsong growled at her, ears drawing back in displeasure.

"How could I let your kit be healed?" Snowfrost asked with voice monotone, flicking an ear.

"No!" The brown tabby queen snapped. "That wool came from a wad kept in your den. How could you not check it over before giving it to an apprentice to line my nest? That thorn could have poked one of my kits' eyes out!"

"Watch your tone," Snowfrost chided. "I have done nothing wrong. I am a very busy cat, I don't have time for menial tasks like examining wool."

"Why not have Mistypaw look it over?" Swiftpaw chimed in. The two older she-cats whipped their heads around to look at her.

"Mistypaw has no time for it either. She is even busier than I am, learning and herb gathering and the like," Snowfrost replied, lashing her tail. Her tone changed to one of irritation. The mollies turned their attention back onto each other, staring each other down. "If you are so worried about finding thorns in your nest then why don't you look it over?" Snowfrost challenged. Cricketsong scoffed. As the two she-cats bickered back and forth, a tiny voice piped up over the other cats's. Swiftpaw glanced down to see Cricketsong's kit toddling over to her.

"Hi!" She squeaked, voice high and soft with youth. "Who you?"

Swiftpaw sat up in her nest to look down at the kitten.

"I'm Swiftpaw," she chriped, blinking slowly.

"Meddie cat?" The brown kit asked, tilting her head back to gaze up at the patched she-cat who towered over her.

"No, I'm a warrior apprentice." The kit's soft blue eyes sparkled with awe. She giggled, pointing at herself with a paw. She was only a half moon old and already excited about becoming an apprentice someday. She could barely even talk yet.

"You're so cute," Swiftpaw trilled, bending down to give the kit a lick between the ears. "Run along to your mommy now." But the kitten made no effort to leave. Instead she waddled up to Swiftpaw, settling herself down in the nest beside her. She let out a soft, content sigh before curling up and closing her eyes. Swiftpaw blink then gave a shrug, laying back down. She listened to the argument between Snowfrost and Cricketsong die down until Cricketsong was ready to leave. She whipped her head around, as if looking for something.

"My kit, she's gone!" She wailed.

"She's right here," Swiftpaw mewed softly, tilting her head to point out the brown kit napping beside her. Cricketsong sighed with relief, padding up to the nest. She picked her daughter up by the scruff, briefly dipping her head in thanks to Swiftpaw. She then turned tail and pranced towards the mouth of the den, pausing for a heartbeat to shoot Snowfrost a nasty glare before leaving, nose stuck up in the air snobbishly.

"Mouse-brain," Snowfrost muttered with a lash of her tail, bringing her attention back to her herb stock at long last. A while past by. Swiftpaw grew bored of watching the medicine cat sort through plants, falling asleep from lack of interest. A familiar, sweet scent soon tickled her nostrils, rousing her from slumber. Mistypaw mewed a hello to her mentor as she entered the den, dropping dock and bark at her paws. Swiftpaw stood up in her nest, ready to greet and speak with her friend. She hadn't seen her all day, and was excited to chat. But before she could say anything, Snowfrost meowed, "Swiftpaw, you're free to go back to your duties. I can't have you crowding the den anymore." Rude! Swiftpaw thought, a growl rising from her throat. But she didn't argue. The white and black patched molly simply glanced at Mistypaw as she stalked out of the den and out into the fresh Newleaf air. She hadn't realized just how much time she had spent inside the medicine den; it was almost completely dark out already. The full moon began to rise over the horizon, shining cool light over the camp. The light decorated the clearing in a dazzling display of black and silver, the likes of which Swiftpaw had never seen before.

"All cats old enough to travel across the meadow gather here beneath Tall Stone for a clan meeting!" Whitestar called unexpectedly. The light of the rising moon reflected off her pelt, making her appear to glow in its light as she climbed to the stone's peak. The clan gathered around the ancient boulder to look up at their leader. Apprentices pushed their way to the front, excited to hear the night's announcement. Mistypaw and Snowfrost emerged from their den, the queens across camp pushed their way into the crowd, and elders crowded behind the rest of the clan. Swiftpaw followed her friends closer to Tall Stone, tilting her head back to gaze at the she-cat above them. "I have decided who shall be attending the Gathering tonight," Whitestar announced, scanning the crowd with her pale blue eyes.

"What's a Gathering?" Swiftpaw whispered to Frostpaw who was sitting beside her now. Frostpaw flicked her tail, glancing at the white and black patched she-cat.

"The Gathering is a meeting held once every full moon. There, we meet with the other four clans, and learn about what's been going on in their territories," she whispered back. Swiftpaw parted her jaws to ask more questions, but was shushed by a cat sitting behind her before she could get another word out.

"As usual, those who are named, meet by the camp exit in a single file line, with Chicorynose taking the lead. Snowfrost, Mistypaw, Ryestep, Gingerstrike, Ashwhisker, Jaybird, Tigerfang, Waspwing, Slugsnout, Meadowcall, Tornface, Sheeptail, Shadowpaw, Frostpaw, Rabbitpaw, and Swiftpaw shall all be coming with us tonight."

Swiftpaw's fur began to stand on end out of astonishment. I'm going to see the other clans?

[lajulie24]

Favorite Jaina Solo headcanons?

Oh, this will be fun, thank you!

Let me preface this by saying that the Jaina Solo I write, at least so far, is not the same Jaina Solo of the EU. I’ve definitely based a lot of my Jaina on the EU character, but since I’ve put her into a fix-it of the sequel trilogy, she’s not a twin, she’s younger than her turned-to-the-Dark-Side brother (almost twelve years younger) and I made her Jaina Organa-Solo (because I like to believe that Leia would appreciate the opportunity to let the Organa name continue on, but would still want her children to have Solo in their names also). So these headcanons will reflect my Jaina and may vary from EU canon.

Here we go:

Jaina is very close with Chewbacca, and because she was exposed to so much Shryiiwook at a young age, can actually speak as well as understand it. (Although she can only speak it for short amounts of time because it strains humans’ vocal cords.) When she’s living on the Falcon with Han and Chewie, she and Chewie are so close that they sometimes finish each other’s sentences. Chewie calls her “Girlcub.”

She’s always been very close with her father, and shares many characteristics with him (love of flying, skill at flying, same crooked grin, similar tendency toward brashness, extreme loyalty to the people she loves, strong sense of humor), but she’s actually a lot like her mother as well (intuitive sense about people and situations, committed to making the galaxy/her world a better place, strong Force-sensitivity, same deep brown doe eyes and dark brown hair, smart as hell). She has the stubbornness of both her parents.

Unlike in the EU, where she’s not terribly close with her mom and a little bitter toward Leia, she’s actually pretty close with Leia, too; she just happens to be closer to her dad. When she and Leia have misunderstandings, it’s usually because they are too much alike. In fact, when Jaina hits her teenage years and starts arguing with and talking back to Han, Han’s like, “Oh, shit, there’s two of them now” and Chewie just laughs his ass off.

She has a very special relationship with her Uncle Luke as well. In my Epic Love ‘verse Luke hides her on Ahch-To for her own protection and they live there by themselves for four years while he trains her in the Force. She enjoys teasing Luke and giving him a hard time about things (like his scraggly beard and worn-out robes), but they also get along really well. Luke gives her a lot of pieces of advice, sayings, etc. that he got from Aunt Beru, much of which Jaina rolls her eyes at (she is a teenager while they’re on the island, after all) but secretly takes to heart.

She also adores her Uncle Wedge (who in my ‘verse is Luke’s husband), and he adores her back. If she were forced to choose her favorite uncle, she’d probably pick him. They often gang up on poor Luke to tease him, but they just enjoy hanging out with each other. And flying–Uncle Wedge has indulged her love of flying since she was a tiny girl. When she’s five years old, Wedge and Luke take her to their Rogue Squadron reunion and Jaina is basically in heaven, because she gets to sit in an honest-to-goodness X-Wing (on the ground, but still…) and gets her own callsign (Rogue Five, naturally. Janson doesn’t mind sharing).

Jaina is extremely strong in the Force and skilled in a variety of areas, including Force healing (which comes in rather handy later on), combat, and shielding/stealth. When she spars, she has a really focused energy about her (something she has in common with her mother).

She is an excellent pilot and has been flying from a very young age, first learning to pilot the Falcon with help when she was eleven and flying on her own (out of necessity; it was an emergency situation) when she was thirteen. She’s also trained on a variety of other ships and simulators and basically cannot wait to become an X-Wing fighter pilot. She also knows at least basic maintenance for most parts of the Falcon, because Han’s rule for his children is that if you want to fly the Falcon you have to know how to fix the Falcon.

She’s bisexual, although she’s not had a chance to date anybody yet, because she’s been on the run or in hiding with her dad and Chewie or with her uncle Luke since she was ten, and just got out of hiding at age seventeen going on eighteen.

Her personal style is pretty eclectic, as are her musical tastes. She likes to listen to the GFFA equivalent of Riot Grrl as well as really bubblegum poppy-type stuff. She dresses pretty casually out of necessity most of the time, but she also really enjoys getting dressed up and playing around with different hairstyles and such.

She’s as good as Han at sabacc; not quite as good as Leia, but damned close. She’s also really good at Dejarik because she used to live on the Falcon.

She speaks several languages fluently, and can curse like a sailor in Huttese, Corellian, Alderaani, and Shryiiwook. (The Huttese curses are Uncle Luke’s fault.)

Thank you for the ask!

[xsunqueensx]

Sun Queens- “Then there was one.”

Ameerah paced around the length of the pool, it’s resident fish followed closely behind her. A few of them swam between her ankles, they were used to her feeding them however, she had too much to digest at the moment. Laila hopped into the pool and playfully chased after a few of the scattered fish, the crazy cat loved water. Ameerah sat along the pools edge. “Well this day escalated rather quickly.” She sighed and laid on her back, the fish still tickled past her feet. It wasn’t like she didn’t know her duties as Kydith’s next queen but, she never expected to get married before her sister, she thought she had more time to learn who she was as Ameerah of Thear. Her hand went to block the sun from her eyes when her elbow bumped against the envelope sitting on her little blue box. She cautiously ripped the envelopes’ lip, conscious not to damage the seal too badly. She allowed herself one more deep breath and began reading;

My dearest Queen,

“I do hope this letter finds you well; are you in good health? Isn’t it odd, the last time we spoke you were eight and I, only ten? Although so much has happened over these last few days; it feels like time is standing still. Forgive my assumptions but; my gut is telling me that we share the same sentiment. So, with that being said I want to be the first to officially extend my welcome to you and your family. Please accept my gift, I imagine that Sapphires will suit you well; I can faintly recall the blue poppy crown you made for us as kids.”

“ I have to admit, I’m anxious to see you; is your smile still as I imagine it? Did that little scar above your hip ever heal? Father scolded me for days after we spared with those sticks; ‘A king should never hit his Queen!’

Ameerah laughed to herself, she remembered their last day clearly. Jooheon landed a pretty harsh blow against her hip bone but, she clocked him twice as hard nicking his right ear. “All’s fair in love and war I suppose.” The letter’s edge caught in the small breeze as Ameerah flipped it over. “Your king demands a rematch, no sticks; however, I’ve heard you have a wicked slight of hand.” She smiled at the words of her playful fiancé, “Ameerah, I want to try and calm any reservations you may have about the condition of our Kingdom. I plan on being an honest and fair king, the king that my father could never be. I will never allow my kingdom to fall into despair again, no matter the cost. I’m willing to fight for what’s mine; yes, that also includes you.” Her cheeks felt warm and it wasn’t just from the sun, “Ameerah, please accept these gifts and kind words, I wish you a quick and safe journey to your kingdom- Kydith.

Love,

Your humble King, Jooheon.

Ameerah hugged the letter to her chest, “And, Just like that my whole world changes.” There was a part of her that was excited, she’d waited 23 years to reign. Was she truly ready? Could she really claim the heart of her kingdom’s people or the heart of her king?.....”My Kingdom, my king.” Ameerah sat up thumbing the contents of her velvet box, the jewelry glistened brightly in the sun. To call the jewels breathtaking, would be an understatement. The necklace was heavy along with the earrings, bracelet and ring. She couldn’t wait to try them on. “Beautiful, I have the perfect dress for this.” Laila splashed her way around the pool and doused Ameerah, “Oh, you’re going to get it.”

Na’eva entered her chambers and let out a heavy sigh. Her little sister would soon be leaving her; she was beyond excited for her to become queen- She slapped her cheeks lightly and began her pep talk, “ Don’t be silly, you’ll both be in sister kingdoms.” Her head laid gently on the back of the door; things were changing so quickly that her mind hadn’t caught up yet. “Want to talk about it?” A familiar voice said tickling the shell of her ear. “Funny, talking feels like the last thing you want to do.” A smirk pressed into her shoulder followed by a lingering bite, “Well, isn’t it in a wolf’s nature?” His fingers laced into the bow of her dress, “Jam-.” “Yes, your highness?” His hands wandered against the soft flesh of her stomach, “Jamison please.” Her head lulled into his chest, a beastly chuckle left him; “I may be a wolf but I’m no mind reader, tell me what you want.” A warm hand circled around her throat, he lifted her chin; “Look at me Na’eva.” She let out a strangled sigh, “Ameerah is getting married.” Jamison paused his ministrations, his lips hovered just above the junction of her neck. “What, when?” He blinked letting the idea settle. “We have four days Jamison, she’s leaving us.” Her vision blurred and she relaxed into his arms. “It’s okay princess, what’s happened? Is it the war, has it finally ended?” Na’eva shook her head, “Yes, the King is dead; my kingdom is almost out of grain and Ameerah is finally free to marry.” Jamison hugged the princess, “Hush now, it’s not the worst thing in the world, is it?” He said sweeping some hair behind her ear, “Don’t be silly, of course not; I’m allowed to miss my sister.” She said a little defeated. “Princess, no one is saying otherwise, I’m sure she’s going to miss you just as much.” Na’eva gave a big sniff and tried to push past him. “Hey stop, no matter what nothing will break the bond you two have.” Na’eva knew that deep down in her heart but, no one could predict the future. “You’re right, I’m sorry to ruin the mood.” “There’s no need to apologize; let me hold you some more, come.” Jamison walked towards her bed and patted the spot he wanted her to lay on. Na’eva looked upon her darkest secret, his hair laying in dark waves with eyes of obsidian, his skin creamy, soft and perfect. “Jamison, we really shouldn’t. I have a duty to my kingdom; I can’t keep being here with you, like this.” Jamison propped his head up with his hand, “Well, until you order me to leave, I won’t.” He casually laid flat on the bed, “The sun is the warmest right here, come and lay with me princess. I just want to hear about your day, I’ll behave...honest.” Na’eva squinted at him, he was so full of himself; she hated that he knew her almost every thought. She took a cautions step followed by another, her hand untied her hair as she approached the spot that he left open for her.

The evening came to a close as the sky turned a dark orange, “I thought I’d find you here.” Na’eva said pulling her sisters curly bun. “I’ve read this letter close to a thousand times. I still cannot believe that I’ll be married in just a few days.....how did i get here.” Ameerah handed the letter to her older sister, “Oh, the seal is pretty; do you mind?” Ameerah shook her head no as her sister read the letter out loud. “Ameerah, please accept these gifts and kind words, I wish you a quick and safe journey to your kingdom- Kydith.

Love,

Your humble King, Jooheon.”

Na’eva sat the letter in her lap, “Well, he sounds like he hasn’t changed a bit; still very kind and loving?” Her smile took over. “Na’eva, there’s no possible way to know, we haven’t seen one another since childhood; I hope I don’t suffer the fate of many other queens. I used to dread all of the terrible tales of the awful marriages that take place between a queen and king. Those poor wives, all but contracted to be silent unless spoken to- to give heirs until child birth claims them....I’m meant for much more than that.” Ameerah said with bright cheeks, not from a blush but sheer frustration. “You haven’t met your prince as an king yet, I’m sure he’ll treat you with great honor. Plus, father would never put you into harms way.” Ameerah sighed, “I know, I just want my reign to mean something to my people and his. I refuse to be the kind of queen who sits idle and watches her days fly by.” Na’eva kicked her feet in the pool of water, “Don’t tell me, tell your king; besides I’m sure he knows how feisty you are- I can clearly recall all of the times you wrestled in your pretty little dresses and him in his robes.” A laugh left both of them, “he started it! I just finished...it.” Na’eva rolled her eyes and laid on her back, “If I recall, you chased him first with the muddy stick.” Ameerah stuck her tongue out, “That was one time sister!” A shared laugh came from the two, “You do know I’m going to miss you, this old dusty castle will be such a bore without you.” Ameerah patted her sisters‘ hand.

”I can only imagine what you’ll get into now. Well at least Jamison can keep you occupied”, Na’eva choked on thin air, she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. “Are you alright Sis?” Na’eva cleared her throat. “Mmm...mhmmm, sorry.” Na’eva calmed herself, there’s no way she knew about her private meetings with Jamison. No one knew, they agreed to make sure of that. “Well, are you going to write him back?” Ameerah scrunched her nose, “Nope, I don’t’ want to seem desperate; it’s healthy to make him miss me a bit.” Na’eva laughed, “He’s your husband, has’t he earned a little affection?” Ameerah shook her index finger ‘no’....”Ah Ah Ah, my future husband. Is a single letter supposed to make me fall for him? My love and loyalty can’t be bought, he’ll have to work for my deepest affections.” Ameerah said with the most casual voice in the world, the confidence she wore was charming. “That’s assuming you don’t fall prey to his charms, his smile could stop a war, remember?” Ameerah laughed, “Oh, please Mrs. Quai is paid to say that!” The girls caught up for what felt like minutes but, in reality hours had flown by. The two walked back towards their individual chambers, “Sister, let’s stay up tonight! We can braid hair and talk about my wedding dress!” “Na’eva smiled at her little sister, “Sure, I’ll grab us some sweets!”

[certifiedskywalker]

Beauty and The Beast - Sandor Clegane

A broken man comes to the inn you work at, a split leg and tarnished spirit. Maybe you can heal him, both body and mind; and show him just how a speck of beauty can turn a beast into a good hearted man.

Warnings : ROUGH Langauge, BRIEF unwanted touching, slow burn romance thingy.  Words : 5826 (longest writing I’ve ever done, but it’s good!)

Life in The Vale was calm and pleasant, for the most part. While you called home a few miles away from the Bloody Gate, you still felt the mountains around the small inn you lived in could protect you from any harm. You had never known anything else; the stone cliffs and high peaks were a part of you as you were of them.

The innkeeper even knew better than to disturb you as you sat above the small tavern. Your ritual of sitting on the crag above was known by the frequent visitors of the inn. If they saw you up there, enjoying the sunset, they’d wave. Men would often whistle, trying to get your attention. You were known through this part of the Vale as the most beautiful. You simply ignored their calls and fixed your eyes on the sky.

Most of the time, they were far too small for you to even notice. Your eyes would be glued to the warm blush colors of the evening sky, not on the ants down below. You’d only clamber down from your high spot when the first sliver of the moon shone on the horizon. Then, and only then, would you return to the small keep.

Except one day, a man caught your eyes. It was the fact he was being carried by four other men that seized your attention. The men rushed their wounded cargo inside the inn, yelling for help and water. Nerves prickled down your spine, just enough to get you on your feet. Darrick wouldn’t take too nicely to their demands of aid; even if they were justified. So, you made your way down the rocks, running into the tavern to stop your employer from making a scene. As it turned out, you were a bit late.

“Who’s this? Why’d ya bring ‘em here?” Darrick had his hands on his hips, his round, grubby face scowling at the men that barged in. One of them looked to be a knight, with shining armor and a sword sheathed in fine leather.

“We found him, he was bleeding badly. He still is,” the knight said. Darrick’s expression only grew more sour and you prepared to step in. “He’s The Hound, the guard dog that fled the Blackwater. The Lannisters would pay to see him returned.”

“Joffrey Baratheon is dead,” Darrick shouted, silencing the floor of the inn. “Cersei Lannister will not want the crowd protector of her dead child unless his head is on a spike.” You stiffened at the thought of the Lannisters killing this man, even if he was The Hound. No one deserved their cruelty. They went as far to kill Robb Stark at a wedding; a wedding!

“We should patch him up,” you said, causing Darrick to look past the knights that brought the man inside. Darrick raised his eyebrows, glancing at you and then The Hound. “We can,” you looked over at the killer being hoisted up, “hold him for ransom. If that doesn’t pan out we can find some other use for him.” Darrick let out a gruff laugh, his fat folds trembling as he did.

“Oh Y/N, you’re lucky that you’re pretty,” Darrick turned away, “your so naive.” You felt your hands curl into fists at his words; you couldn’t let the Lannister kill someone else. Looking down at The Hound, you could see just how dreadful his situation was. He was far from conscious and if he did open his eyes, his dirty hair would hinder his sight. The leg of his trousers was soak in crimson blood and his leg bone poked out of his flesh. Despite his apparent wounds, you could see the strength in him; but if you didn’t help him soon, he would die.You turned to the knight in the clean iron armor, who was looking at you with confusion.

“Well don’t just leave him there! Bring him to the extra room in the back.” The four men heaved The Hound up, following you as you led them past the wooden tables that littered the inn’s floor. The extra room, normally saved for high priced customers, was quite large. The cot in the corner was longer than the rest of the beds in the inn.

“Set him down there,” you said, pointing to the bed. The men set him down with a big groan from the cot. You walked out to the inn’s kitchen to find the store of the healing herbs, bandages, and milk of the poppy. You took everything you could carry, rushing back to the man bleeding out on Darrick’s finest sheets.

When you returned to the room, the knights had removed the man’s armor and left him only in his cloth clothing. The Hound was also trying to haul himself up but the one knight that remained kept him down; or tried to.

“You have to stay down, you’re going to make it worse.” The knight was far from threatening or forceful, so The Hound pushed him away with ease.

“Fuck off, boy,” he spat as tried to push himself up once more. Before he could, you walked in, bringing his attention to you. You could see his brown eyes through his long hair, peering up at you with an unreadable expression.

“You are going to make things worse if you try to walk,” you said walking over to the desk. You set down your medical materials and turned back to him. “Lay back down, Ser... “ you trailed off, not knowing The Hound’s true name. You had only heard the horror stories of his treachery and cage-less temper.

“Clegane, Sandor Clegane,” he hissed. His voice was gruff and it sent a chill down your spine. “I’m no Ser either,” he added, slowly leaning back against the bed. You walked over to the edge of the bed, feeling the eyes of the knight on you.

“Why do you stay?” you asked, meeting the knight’s blue eyes. They reminded you of the sky before sunset, crisp and bright; but something lingered behind his eyes. The look you saw in the eyes of lustful men was mirrored in his expression.

“To aid you, my lady. I’ve heard about the beautiful Y/N L/N across the Eyrie and would enjoy helping you.” You smiled sweetly at this, but he knew it was fake. You didn’t enjoy his attempt at flattery. Moving your attention back to The Hound, the knight shifted angrily on his feet. His attempts to help only gave him grief and he sensed another let down.

 “You can have Darrick organize a room for you if you’re so concerned for this man’s health. You are not needed as of now.” The skinny knight let out a huff and walked out of the room.

You leaned over The Hound, studying his split leg. Gently reaching a hand out, you moved some of the fabric away. Clegane let out a hiss as you pulled part of his pants out of his bloody flesh. Ignoring him, you pursed your lips as you thought of a way to mend it. Finally coming to a solution, you walked over to your healing supplies. You tied a smock around your body to keep any blood off your gown. You looked over and saw The Hound watching you.

“Do you want milk of the poppy?” You asked as you looked over ot the desk to grab the things you needed. You heard the man behind you let out scoff.

“No,” he said, a hint of agitation in his voice. At this, you turned and walked back over to him. You set the bandages and salves on the edge of the bed. You looked back at him, meeting his eyes. A section of his hair had fallen to the side, revealing the other half of his face. The mangled, burned skin frightened you at first, but you looked away before you were caught staring for too long.

“It’s going to hurt,” you said, busying yourself with unraveling the dressing for his leg. You glanced back up at him for a brief moment and found him looking at you with an incredulous expression.

“No shit, it’s gonna hurt,” you clenched your jaw at his words. Before you could snap back, Clegane let out a rough cough. A bit of blood came up as he hacked and you frowned.

“That’s no way to speak to the woman who’s going to save your life,” you said, trying to keep calm. You grabbed a cloth and wiped at his mouth, clearing away speck of blood.

“I’m already dead, lass,” he said softly, “there’s no point in trying.” He gently pushed your hand away from his face, causing you to frown.

“Well your groaning and coughing will keep paying customers awake during the night; so I have to do something.” You carefully leaned over him, looking at his leg to see how much of the supplies you should use. While you did that, Sandor was watching you.

Your had a stubbornness about you that reminded him of the Stark girls. Arya would always give him a hard time, while Sansa wouldn’t let it show how much Joffrey had hurt her. He furrowed his brows at the memory of the two girls, a part of him missing them. He felt his lips form half of a bitter smile and was glad when you didn’t see it.

“I’m going to have to set the bone, stitch it up, and then wrap it,” you said aloud. You looked over at The Hound, his eyes still fixed on you. “Are you certain you don’t want milk of the poppy?” The Hound nodded and you mentally readied yourself.

“I’ve been through worse,” Clegane said. You nodded and dipped your fingers in a cleaning salve, gently spreading it around his wound. Your ears picked up a hiss of pain, but you focused on your careful work. “There’s a spot on my neck that could use a bit of that stuff,” he gestured to his neck with a heavy hand and you glanced up at him. His dark eyes were trained on your face when you moved over to examine his neck.

Peeling away the blood soaked fabric of his shirt, you could see the wound clearly. You let out a sigh before getting more salve on your fingers. You lightly brushed your fingers against his bloodstained skin, letting the ointment soak into the bite. You did your best to ignore how close you two were, but you had to get your mind off of it. 

“How did you come to get so battered?” The Hound let out a throaty, forced chuckle. You pulled away from his neck, glancing at his face. He wasn’t the cleanest man; dirt and blood covered his face and tangled in his beard. Only something big would’ve been able to inflict the damage you had seen. Perhaps a bear or Shadowcat.

“I was,” he paused and you turned your attention back to his leg. “I was trying to protect someone, tryin’ to keep ‘er safe.” As he talked, you grabbed the gauge for his leg in preparation.

“What attacked you?” you questioned, trying to keep him talking. Clegane only let out a scoff, rolling his eyes and shook his head.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he spat. You gazed up at him, holding his eyes as you did. The Hound shifted in his spot, his stone cold exterior melting under your glare.

“I would,” you said firmly, “knowing how your wounds were inflicted would aid me in treating them.” You started to unravel the binding, still looking into The Hound’s face. “Now,” you said, “tell me.” His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t place before he spoke.

“A huge beast of a wom-” before he could finish, you reached over and snapped his broken bone back into place. The bone was slick with blood, but you managed to align it. The Hound let out a loud howl of pain, however it was brief. 

“You’re a tricky lady,” he grunted out. An amused smile formed on your lips as the brutish man before you winced and grimaced in pain.

“It had to be done,” you said, wiping your hands on the dirty apron you wore. With now clean hands, you grabbed the needle a thread. As quickly, and as carefully as you could, you stitched up his flesh. The Hound tried his best to stay still, but the jabs of the needle stung after a while. When it was done, you sat back to admire you work. Then you reached for the binding. 

“I’m going to have to wrap this around your leg to keep the bone set, so stay still.” He let out a huff, looking at the blood around his leg.

You studied the man, wondering what he was like before his leg split. How many people had he killed in the name of the Lannisters, or just because he wanted to? He wouldn’t be killing anyone for a while after you were done with him. He’d walk with a limp now, be a tad slower too.

Carefully lifting his leg, you wrapped the bandage around the wound. The Hound’s face would twitch and flinch in pain, trying his best not to show how much the injury pained him. You were about halfway through the binding when he started to complain.

“Ya, done yet?” You kept your eyes glued on your work, ignoring him. “It stings a bit, ya know,” he said dryly. Your eyes snapped up to met his, smiling sweetly.

“I thought you had been through worse?” you teased, squinting your eyes at him. The Hound scoffed and leaned back against the headboard of the bed.

“You gotta mouth on you. Only known one girl that ever talked back to me like that.” You shifted and went back to your work.

“What happened to her?” you asked, your voice betraying your thoughts. The deeds The Hound had done for Joffrey were well known. It wouldn’t surprise you if the young king had his dog kill a woman that refused him. Clegane shifted at your tone, sitting up a little from his spot.

“I didn’t hurt her,” he claimed, “I don’t hurt women.” You looked up at him, still waiting to hear what happened to the girl that talked back. He swallowed hard, “she was the person I was trying to protect. But she left me to die.”

“You must’ve deserved it then,” you said with no emotion. The Hound stiffened at your words but he felt you were right. Part of him still wanted to die, wanted to be done with all the petty Lords and stubborn Ladies; but life seemed to still have it’s hold on him. Or at least you were too hard headed to let him just die.

“Aye,” he said dejectedly, “I did.” You curled your lips together and looked up at his eyes. Dirt still covered his face, hiding the man you were trying to save.

“I’ll get a rag to wash you up.” You stood, walking over to the desk at the far side of the room. Sandor Clegane’s eyes followed you as you moved. You obviously didn’t enjoy him, so why were you helping him? His head was too cloudy with pain and exhaustion to think about it properly. So the tired man just watched as you dipped an old rag into water and made your way back to his bedside. You leaned down again, looming over him.

Your eyes scanned over his face, landing on the scarred skin there. The flesh looked to be mangled by flames, with spots of red interlaced with his skin tone. Carefully reaching out, fearful he’d push your hand away, you brushed the rag against his face. His brow furrowed when you cleaned the burned side, watching your expression change from soft to thoughtful. He could only assume that you were thinking about his ugliness, the disfigurement that made him look like the monster everyone in the Seven Kingdoms blabbed about.

“Don’t like whatcha see, lass?” He didn’t know why he even asked. Of course you didn’t like looking at him; no one did. Clegane waited for a snarky answer, but you simply moved the rag to the other side of his face without a word. Once his face was clean, you looked him in the eyes. Something had changed in your eyes, as you looked at the man before you.

“It’s just different,” you said finally. “You’re different, Sandor Clegane.” You dipped the rag in the water once more, handing it to him. “You can clean the rest of yourself,” you stood and looked down at him. “I’ll check in on you in the morning, you should still be alive.”

Sandor let out a husky laugh, “maybe. If I do live, you still gonna give to the Lannisters?” You met his eyes once more, a question on your lips.

“I thought you were passed out when I said that?” The Hound remained quiet, still waiting for your answer. “No, Clegane,” you said finally. “I had to give Darrick a reason to let me treat you. Holding you ransom seemed to win him over.”

“You’re a bright girl, Y/N” he said, with almost a hint of affection in his voice. Your name sounded foreign coming off his lips. He must’ve remembered it from the prissy knight tried to flirt with you. “You shouldn’t be workin’ in a tavern out in nowhere.” You smiled softly and shook your head.

“I’m right where I belong,” you turned back to the door, opening it. “I’ll see you in the morn, try to rest Clegane.” Without another word, you left the room. Sandor shifted against the bed, the wet rag still in his hand. He looked down at it; his thoughts drifting to one of the only people in the world that had showed him a lick of kindness.

You were leaning with your back resting against the wall. The air inside that room was musty with misuse, as the inn hadn’t had a highborn guest in years. That wasn’t the only thing that made it hard to clear your head. Who knew The Hound had fear and a heart. Defending and protecting a little girl seemed below what he was used to, yet it was what lead him to you in the first place. Maybe he wasn’t the beast everyone said he was.

A few days had past and Sandor Clegane was still alive. There were a few times over the last week where things were rocky and you had to stay at his bedside. One night, he had a fever and the shakes. You had to hold a rag to his face, trying your best to soothe him.

“It’s your body getting rid of any infection,” you had said calmly and dabbed the rag at his forehead. “You’ll live,” you had said, even when you had fear in your heart. You had brushed his hair from his damp skin and his eyes had moved to meet with yours. You had seen a flicker in his eyes when you had looked at him, but he tried his best to hide his emotion.

“Whatever you say, lass,” his voice had been rough with pain with he spoke. “No one will cry for me if I do die anyway.” Your brows had furrowed at his words, but bit your tongue. There was no comforting him with words, you had to the best with what you had.

So you kept holding the rag to his forehead, until his large hand wrapped around your wrist. You had met his eyes once more, but his face was as serious as stone. Your hand fell limp in his grip, your gaze had softened on his face.

“Why are you helping me?” His voice was so hoarse, it almost didn’t sound like his own. “You could be with your husband and your children, but instead you’re stuck with a sick, evil man.” You had frowned and shook your head.

“I don’t have a husband, or children. And I’m here because I want to be.” The Hound let go of your hand then, his jaw had been clenched as you spoke. “I want to help you because there are very few kind people left in the known-world.” You had placed the rag back against his head and he didn’t fight back. He let you help him, your every word playing through his mind.

Now, Clegane was healed. He stilled resided in the bed, until Darrick snapped at you for wanting payment; after all it was the best room he owned.

“He’s been in there for days,” he shouted, “we’re losin’ gold!” You nodded and the innkeeper smiled wickedly. He lunged towards you, as quick as he could on his stumpy legs. His sausage fingers grabbed a hold of your jaw, pulling your face close to his. “I’ll get what I want, what I deserve, one way or ‘nother. Even if it means selling your whore ass out to high payin’ patrons. You’re a known beauty afterall, wouldn’t mind a taste for meself.”

Darrick’s spit coated your face, making you cringe away from him. He let out a loud, boorish laugh. He let your face go, pushing you away from him. You rubbed your jaw, turning to walk out of the kitchen. Making you way to The Hound’s room, you wondered if he was ready to try walking yet. It’d be a step towards paying Darrick back.

You knock at the door and you hear Clegane’s voice sounding from behind the door. He told you to come in, so you pushed open the door. To your surprise, he sat on the edge of the bed. He looked up and met your eyes.

“Let me help,” you said, taking a step towards him. You held out your hand to him and he let out a raspy scoff.

“I don’t need your help,” he said and you raised your eyebrows. He set his hands on the edge of the bed and prepared himself to stand up. He would fall without support.

“Without my help, you would’ve died. Now,” you hold out your hand again. The Hound reluctantly took your hand. His long fingers wrapped around your hand, making it seem smaller than it actually was. You didn’t mind the roughness of his skin as he pushed up on his feet. He was a bit wobbly as he took a tentative step forward. He leaned on you for support,  but you didn’t mind it. His leg seemed alright and he’d be able to walk without a cane.

You walk him towards the door, your other hand holding onto his forearm. He lands a step awkwardly on his foot, causing him to stumble. You caught him, your grip tightening on his hand and arm. Clegane mutters a curse under his breath and you feel the heat of his body against your own as he leaned on you.

“Easy now, Hound,” you said and he shifted his weight away from you. He straightened his posture and looked down at you. “You’re alright, one step at a time.”

“Sandor,” he said, looking into your eyes. He wore a strange expression on his face that you couldn’t place. “Call me Sandor. The Hound…” he paused, “was a name forced on me.”

“Alright, Sandor,” you said, testing his name on your lips. You carefully led him back to the bed, helping him sit back down. You let go of his arm, using your other hand to help him on the edge of the bed. Before you could speak, Sandor let go of your hand.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said quietly.

“Being polite now, are we?” you teased and Sandor looked up at you. The startings of a smile rested on his lips, but he didn’t seem to notice; you did.

“Be quiet, will ya?” he hissed, making you grin. “I haven’t said that to you since the first night,” he added. You nodded and smiled softly.

“It’s fine,” you said. “You’ll have to get on your feet soon, though,” you walked over to the desk and picked it up a bit.

“Why is that, little bird?” He asked and your cheeks flushed pink at the nickname. Him speaking to you so kindly had caught you off guard. He wasn’t like the men in the tavern that would rather see you bare than speak to you. Sandor spoke to you like you were the same as him. 

“Darrick demands payment, and he will get it.” You turned back to face Sandor, who nodded. “I talked to him this morning.”

“You mean he yelled and you listened?” You swallowed hard at his words, grinding your teeth together. “I heard it through the door, nothing in detail.” You nodded with a frown and Sandor seemed to tense up. “I’ll pay my dues,” he said tiredly, “no need to stress.” You nodded at his words, a spark of curiosity igniting a flame.

“After you pay him back, where will you go?” Sandor stayed silent. He hadn’t thought about where he would go. His heart told him to stay here, never let someone like you get away from him; but when did The Hound ever listen to his heart?

“North maybe,” he lied. You nodded again, wondering what was waiting for him in the snow. Certainly not you. “Or South, it depends on the road.” You met his gaze again, his brown orbs staring back at you. A heavy silence fell over the two of you, waiting for the other to speak. You couldn’t bear it any longer, so you dared to voice your thoughts.

“Maybe you shouldn’t even go on the road.” Your suggestion caught his attention. Sandor straighten his back, looking at you with careful eyes; as if he were scared to look away from you. As if he did, you’d disappear all together.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice tinged with slight contentment. He didn’t venture to show anymore emotion, fearing that, if he did, you’d reject him. You smiled softly at him, hopeful for your future for the first time in years. You’d felt alone in the Vale, in the tavern, for a while. If Sandor stayed, maybe he could join you at your special cliff to watch the sunset.

“Yes, I fear Darrick might miss you too much,” you teased lightheartedly, and The Hound chuckled. A real show of joy, the first show since you had met him.

“Wouldn’t want to piss him off, now would I?” You curled your lips together at the notion. Your mind drifting back to Darrick’s threat, sent any spark of happiness into the chamber pot.

“No, you wouldn’t,” you said. Without another word, you left the room; thus leaving Sandor alone and slightly confused. What was the pretty girl from the tavern hiding?

“Who knew you’d be useful,” you teased, watching as Sandor chopped wood. The tall man stopped assaulting the tree before him, glaring at you. Although, there was a notion of amusement in his eyes you didn’t miss.

“Are you ever quiet?” He asked and you grinned. He rolled his eyes and continued to chop the tree in small pieces, still aware you were nearby. You watched at the muscles in his back flexed with each swing of the axe. His arms were equally as muscled and you couldn’t help but watch as he worked. Before you gawked any longer, you shook your head.

“Rarely,” you said, addressing his question. “How’s your leg? Your neck?” Sandor brought the axe down with one strong swing, splitting the tree in half. He slowly turned to look at you again, less annoyed this time but frowning nonetheless.

“Better,” he said, his voice tart with anger. Though, it was all an act and the two of you knew that; even if neither of you dared to admit it.

“Are you ever happy to see me?”

“Rarely,” he said, mimicking your answer. In truth, seeing you was what got him through the boring days. You reminded him that he was living for something; something he could not, and would not, share. He turned back to his work without another word.

 Despite the strength in his every movement, it was hard to believe that, just a few days ago, Sandor was too weak to move. Now he was up and laboring to pay Darrick back.

“I’m going to make my last rounds in the tavern, so when you’re done here come get some ale.” Sandor glanced over his shoulder at you, a softness in his gaze.

“Will do, little bird,” he said and turned back to his work. “I’ll see ya in a bit.” You couldn’t help but smile at his words and you walked off back towards the inn.

Your good mood spread as you poured ale for pleased customers. The evening rush was in, and soon you’d be able to make your way to your spot on the stone peaks. Everything was going fine until Darrick stumbled out of his chambers. Your employer reeked of sour ale and wine, his face greasy with grimy sweat. Your body tensed as he lumbered over to you.

“Hello sweet beauty,” he drawled, the fumes of alcohol wafting to your face. “Your rounds are over yeah?” Darrick’s swinish hands grabbed your arm, his grip tightening on you. “Come to my bed and be a good little girl, will ya?” He pulled you to him, away from the patreon you were serving. His foul breath fanned across your face and made you cringe.

“You’re making a scene,” you hissed at the innkeeper, but he only chuckled.

“Oh, all the men in his room want’a fuck you,” he spat, “you ain’t kidding nobody.” You pulled away from him then, your body racing with anger. Darrick only lunged forward, grabbing you again. “Even that mutt of yours wants you in his bed. I’d kill ‘em to get first chance at you.” You struggled in his arms but he fondled your ass before you started yelling.

The tavern’s patrons, even the few that were there, just watched. Then you realized, Darrick was right; you were just a pretty face for travellers to ogle at. You felt tears burning in your eyes at the thought that no one cared about you. Darrick continued to touch you, even as you continued to struggle. You shouted and screamed but no one did a thing.

Just when you were about to give up, Sandor Clegane stormed in. His hand was still gripping the axe, his knuckles white due to the tightness. Your eyes locked with his and he marched towards you and Darrick. The innkeeper, upon seeing the mountain of a man stalking towards him, dropped you to the ground.

Without a word, but a few helpless cries from Darrick, Sandor grabbed the fat man by the neck. You watched in awe as Sandor backed him against the wall, holding him there by his neck. Sandor of seething and you could tell by the swift rise and fall of his shoulders, he wasn’t going to let Darrick get away with what he had done.

“If you ever,” Sandor hissed, “touch that pretty lady again, I’ll chop off your cock and feed it to the pigs outside.” Darrick, even in his drunken state, nodded quickly. With one motion, Sandor let the man fall to the ground and he turned to you. He extended a hand to you and you took it without hesitation. He lifted you off the ground and you instantly rested yourself against his tall frame. He let go of your hand, wrapping his arms around you.

“I’ve got ya, little bird,” he said gently, his voice soothing you. One hand moved, holding your upper arm tightly while the other rested against your back. He pulled you away from him, looking into your eyes with sincerity. “Go get yer things, we’re leaving.”

You nodded and went off to your cramped quarters to grab anything you might need. Some gowns, family heirlooms, and blankets for the coming winter. By the time you had everything, Sandor was standing in the doorway. You glanced up at him and his brow furrowed at the sight of you. Your eyes were red and tears covered your cheeks.

“You’re alright now,” he said, walking towards you. “I won’t let them hurt you,” his hands carefully wiped away your tears. Sandor was scared that the slightest touch may set you off, or hurt you. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he hurt you. His movements were shaky, since he wasn’t used to showing much affection. He couldn’t even remember the last time; maybe when he covered the Stark girl with his cloak after the little King prick had her beaten.

But you didn’t care if he fumbled when he touched you. You were just happy he was going to take you away from the tavern, away from Darrick. You carefully reached a small hand to brush against his large one, closing your eyes when you touched. You felt the last of your tears escape down your cheeks and the man before rubbed them away.

The beast the locals claimed Sandor Clegane was, was not who stood before you. He had changed, learned from his brush with death. You cared for the man in front of you, not the man he had done; the things he had done. So when you opened your eyes and your hand caressed the burned side of his face, it didn’t bother either of you. Sandor’s eyes shut, wondering why he hadn’t tried to find you sooner. You brought his face closer to you, letting your lips graze his cheek. You pressed a soft kiss there, a thank you and a promise for more all at once. Sandor longed to pull you closer, kiss you like he meant it; because he did mean it. He wanted to be able to love someone, to love you, without fear. You were the only woman that showed him how to care, about life and something more then himself; and he wouldn’t let that go.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low as he spoke, “we should go.” You nodded after pulling your lips from his cheek. He grabbed your bag and you stopped by his old room so he could find the armor he had left. When you both made your way back out to the main section of the inn, everyone had left. They probably feared what Sandor might’ve done to them; afterall none of them came to your aid. Even Darrick was in hiding.

“There’s a horse outside,” you whispered. Sandor’s hand found yours and you guided him to the stables. A black mare stood proudly as you saddled it. The Hound tied the bags to it as you petted it’s head for comfort.

“C’mere,” Sandor said, bringing your attention back to him. You walked over to him and his hands found your waist. Before you could say anything, he lifted you up and onto the horse. You glanced down at him, but soon realized he was going to get on too. He heaved himself up and settled himself behind you. You grabbed the reins, handing them to him.

“Where do you wanna go, little bird?” His voice was soft and low in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You turned your head to face him, his eyes peering down at you.

“Maybe North, maybe South,” Sandor smiled, actually smiled at you. The rare sight was burned into your memory; as was the last glimpse of the stony crag you used to climb as you both rode down the road, letting it fade out against the soft pink sky.

[hegemoneapple]

Basilisk Eyes: Chapter 3: Getting sorted out

Crossposted: Basilisk Eyes by Hegemone | Completed: Chapter 3 out of 157 | T | AO3 | FFN | WATT | HPFF

Summary: As Harry Potter slays the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, blood and venom get in his eyes, mostly blinding him. While Harry learns to adapt, he makes some new friends. But this is more than a story of adaptation and friendship as there are threats... and Harry isn't the only one with a past that haunts him.

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

Harry stood for a moment on the spot, not really sure where he was in the room. He felt a bit nauseous from the unexpected jump through space in the corridor outside Professor McGonagall’s office to the hospital wing. He let the familiar odors of the hospital wing wash over him and listened. Madam Pomfrey must have given Ginny a pepper up potion—the smell permeated. He could hear people talking quietly at the end of the wing, near Madam Pomfrey’s office. 

He squinted trying to make out the shadows, but couldn't see anything except a low, hazy light that must be the fireplace—he could smell it, too, and hear it pop occasionally. It was indistinct—the essence of light without any shape or form. 

He thought about how the wing was laid out with rows of beds and a long corridor down the center and reached out trying to find the nearest bed. His hand passed through empty air, so he took a few steps. His foot without the sock felt funny—his trainers were slippery with who knows what… mucky snake pond water, Basilisk blood, his own sweat.

He took another pass with his hand and softly hit a metal bar with his fingers. He grasped it. It was the cool metal tube that made the foot of a bed. He ran his hand over it, feeling the hooks where a chart would hang if someone were in the bed being treated.

His stomach gurgled as he walked in the open space between the beds; he was feeling a little lightheaded; he was so hungry. He reached, guessing where the next bed would be and found it.

At the next bed, his foot collided with the metal foot of the bed and made a ringing sound. The murmured conversations at the end of the wing stopped suddenly. Harry imagined people looking at him and flushed.

“Harry!” Ron’s voice rang out and his feet slapped on the stone floor as he grew nearer. 

“Hermione’s about to get the potion!” Ron exclaimed, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away from the row of beds that he was making his way along. 

Harry stumbled after Ron, trying to get his footing.

“Oi! Ron! Wait!” Harry said. “Let me hold onto you. I don’t like being pulled.” 

He put his hand on Ron’s shoulder as he had with Ginny earlier, and walked a little behind Ron. Ron seemed to tense and his gait was unnatural as if he wasn’t sure what to do. Harry blushed, imagining how silly they must look walking down the corridor like this. Everyone was still pretty hushed and he felt as though all eyes were on him.

Swishing skirts or robes (Harry wasn’t sure which) and footsteps approached along with a familiar scent that put Harry in mind of a warm and bustling kitchen. 

Mrs. Weasley started wailing as she pulled Harry into another fierce embrace, “Oh, Harry! Ginny told me that something happened to your eyes down in the Chamber! Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey. I don’t know why Professor Dumbledore kept you so long. And why are you here on your own? Surely he didn’t leave you to find your way here by yourself… not able to see… and who knows what wandering the corridors at this time of night!” Molly effused as she pulled him alongside her, arm around his shoulders. 

“It’s okay, Mrs. Weasley. Dobby brought me here,” he said. 

Harry could hear someone moving around clinking glass jars and imagined that Madam Pomfrey was mixing potions at her potions station nearby. He wondered why he couldn’t see people’s distinct shapes anymore, like the dark shadowy form of Riddle that he had seen in the dungeons. He wondered if his vision was getting worse. 

“Poppy!” Mrs. Weasley called. 

The clinking of glass bottles stopped and the clipped footsteps of Madam Pomfrey approached. “Can you take a look at Harry’s eyes? Ginny said that he got venom in them.”

“Oh, yes!” Poppy exclaimed. 

She gently guided Harry to a nearby bed and asked him to lie down. 

“Lumos,” she said as a bright light exploded into the space in front of Harry’s face. 

Again he yelped in surprise and pain as he shut his eyes tightly against the piercing light. 

His head throbbed.

“Hmmm,” Poppy murmured and a soft “nox” eclipsed the light that shone through his closed eyelids.

“What?” Harry asked, daring to open his eyes again.

“Nothing dear,” she hushed. “I’m just going to run some diagnostics.” 

He felt the air moving around his head.

After a moment of this, punctuated by grim mutterings from Madam Pomfrey that made Harry’s stomach clench in dread, she asked, “Ginny said that Fawkes used his tears on you. Did he cry in your eyes, too?”

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey, down in the Chamber. Dumbledore said they had healing properties and Fawkes had cried on the wound I got from the Basilisk fang in my arm and it went away completely. See?” 

He lifted up his arm, pulling back his robes to show her where the wound had been. He ran his fingers over his forearm, not able to discern any difference in the skin.

“But it was later. I didn’t think of it right away… about asking Fawkes to use the tears on my eyes… that is.”

“Oh, well,” murmured Madam Pomfrey, absentmindedly. “You were lucky to have Fawkes nearby. It doesn’t take long to die from Basilisk venom. I can’t believe that a monstrosity like that has been lurking in the dungeons of this castle for so long.” 

The venom in her voice made Harry want to shrink away from her.

“Alright, I’m going to get you cleaned up,” Madam Pomfrey said.

Suddenly things began to move around Harry and he hoped that one of the sounds he heard was of curtains being placed around his bed because his clothes had been whisked off, his body scrubbed, and he was suddenly dressed in clean hospital robes. He heard his wand and broken glasses clatter on the top of the small table by his bed. 

It wasn’t as restorative as taking a hot bath, but it did feel good to be in clean clothes. He wiggled his toes and relaxed into the bed, his limbs so weighty that they seemed submerged in the soft mattress. His eyelids were heavy and he fought against the sleep that was overpowering him.

“Is Ginny okay?” he asked Madam Pomfrey who was still close by, he could hear the scratching of her quill on parchment near the foot of his bed.

“Yes, dear. She’s fine. Just resting now after her pepper up potion.”

“And Hermione? Is she okay?” Harry asked.

“Oh, yes. I was just about to give Hermione her Mandrake potion when you showed up. The others are doing well.”

“So… ” Harry asked—he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. “What about my eyes?”

“Oh, well. I’m… I’m still looking into it,” Madam Pomfrey said. “You rest while I consult with the healers at St. Mungo’s. We might need to send you there.”

“Oh,” said Harry, his apprehension mounting. He had been so confident that Madam Pomfrey would restore his eyesight with a flick of her wand. He didn’t feel hungry anymore. In fact, he felt like he might be sick. He moved to his side and felt around the sides of the beds to see if there was a basin that he could use, just in case. He found one sitting on the table by the bed and felt reassured. He lay back on the pillow trying to calm his stomach.

He could hear the others talking in low voices nearby. Madam Pomfrey had walked away from his bed and he heard the glass vials being moved around again.

Footsteps approached his bed, Ron’s heavy slapping feet. Harry felt a smile play at his lips. He heard Ron fumbling with curtains and was relieved to learn that he hadn’t been exposed to everyone in the room when Madam Pomfrey cleaned him up.

“How are you, mate?” Ron asked.

“I’m fine.” 

“Right.”

“Well, I’m alive and I’m not petrified, so that’s a good thing. I know who I am. I wasn’t eaten by a monstrous snake or Avada Kedavra’d by Riddle.”

“Okay, but why didn’t Madam Pomfrey fix your eyes?”

“What—you can tell?” asked Harry.

“Yeah. Your eyes don’t look right. They are bloodshot and puffy and kind of darting around, not fixing on anything.”

“Oh.”

“Oi! I think she’s going to wake up Hermione now. Be right back.”

“Okay, I’m not going anywhere,” Harry sighed and laid back to stare at the ceiling. Except he couldn’t even see that. 

It sounded like the people in the room had gathered around another bed, a few beds down from his on the other side of the corridor. He was trying to figure out who was in the hospital wing. He knew that Ginny was in a bed just two or three down from him and he could hear Mr. Weasley speaking softly to her. He wondered if other people were here to see the other victims of the Basilisk… Colin, Justin, Penelope, and Nearly Headless Nick. Was it just Hermione left? Had the others gone?

He wondered if anyone had notified Hermione’s parents. Did they even know she had been petrified? He wished he had asked Ron to stay with him and describe what was going on. As much as he wanted to just go to sleep, he was also desperate to know that Hermione was going to be okay. He got out of bed, grimacing when his feet came in contact with the cold, stone floor and felt around on the table by his bed until he located his wand that had rolled next to the basin.

He wished he knew a spell that would help guide him through the obstacles in the room without stubbing his toes.

“Posuit soccis,” he muttered pointing his wand at his feet and was relieved when his slippers magically encased them. He smiled gratefully for that one, remembering when Neville had taught it to him first year. Castle floors were too cold to manage without slippers.

He moved to the end of the bed, fussed with the curtains until he found the opening, and then moved down the aisle from bed to bed toward the voices.

“Is Hermione waking up?” he asked, hoping that Ron would hear him.

“She’s just starting to depetrify,” said a girl’s voice that he didn’t recognize.

“Oh,” said Harry, wanting to move in closer, but not really sure where closer was. 

He could feel and hear people jostling around, but he imagined that they were all looking at Hermione and didn’t see him. He stood awkwardly outside the group trying to glean what was going on by the conversation.

“Is Ron nearby?” Harry asked the girl. He waited, but she didn’t answer so he figured she hadn’t heard him. He asked again, a little louder.

“He’s right in front of you,” her voice laced with irritation and incredulity.

“Oh, thanks,” Harry said blushing, realizing that she must have gestured before.  

“Hey, Ron?” Harry reached forward, his hand coming into contact with someone’s back. He hoped it was Ron.  

“Oi, Harry! What are you doing out of bed?” Ron asked, grabbing Harry and pulling him forward. Harry stumbled and caught himself on the bed that everyone was clustered around.

“I wanted to see Hermione. Is she okay?” he asked.

“She’s just starting to come back.” 

Ron’s voice was thick with emotion and his hand squeezed Harry’s upper arm. Harry felt around gingerly on the bed in front of him, trying to figure out where he was. He found Hermione’s hand, still cold and hard where it had lain before with the page about the Basilisk scrunched into her fist. He held onto her hand and marveled as it gradually warmed beneath his.

“Hermione?” 

Her hand twitched almost imperceptibly.

“Harry? Ron?” 

Her voice was weak.

“We’re here, Hermione!” they said, trying to crowd closer to her bed.

“Did you find the Chamber of Secrets?”

“Yes, Ginny’s okay.”

“What?”

“The Basilisk is dead.”

“Oh, thank goodness… Are you okay?” Hermione shifted in her bed. “Harry, what’s wrong with your eyes?” 

“Oh, I got some venom in them. Madam Pomfrey’s working on it. I’ll be okay,” he said, realizing that he wasn’t really looking in her direction, and pointed his nose toward her voice. He squeezed her hand which was now warm and soft again. 

“How are you going to study for your exams if you can’t see, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed.

“No idea,” he said smiling a bit at her response. He was more worried about other things. But for now, he was really relieved that Hermione was okay.

“Hey, Ron. Can you take me over to see Ginny?” Harry said as he found Ron’s arm and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Sure.”

They moved through the crowd of people who were filling Hermione in on all the events that had taken place while she was petrified.

“Hi, Harry,” Ginny said, her voice floating softly up from the bed where she was reclining.

“Hi, Ginny,” Harry said as he found the edge of the bed and sat next to her. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” she hiccuped.

He was afraid that he’d set her off again. He felt around for her hand and found it, squeezing it gently.

“Hey, we’re going to be okay, you know?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “What did Madam Pomfrey say about your eyes? Why hasn’t she fixed them yet?”

“She’s got to talk to healers at St. Mungo's,” he said, trying to put a brave face on.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Ginny, you know this isn’t your fault, right?”

“Yeah. Dad’s been talking to me. He was so mad at first, but he’s just sad now. And he’s been telling me about all the people who You-Know-Who possessed and made do things that they didn’t want to do… and I guess, I’m just one of those people now.”

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Harry said. 

Turning to Ron who was fidgeting by the bed, he said, “Ron, do you mind leading me to my bed. I’m so tired.”

“Your hospital bed or your bed in Gryffindor tower?”

“Good question. I think Madam Pomfrey wants me to stay here tonight. Keep an eye on me, and everything. Maybe she’ll put a silencing charm over my bed so I can sleep.” 

Harry and Ron walked over to his bed and Harry climbed in.

He decided to try out the charm—he had heard her cast it enough, “Silentium”

All the bustling sounds of everyone in the room were suddenly cut off and Harry realized that it was too much for him to handle. He didn’t like not being able to hear nor see anyone and quickly he muttered, ‘Finite’ and the sounds flooded back. He was relieved. He realized that he was tired enough to fall asleep despite all the noise and conversations. 

Maybe they’d all head to the feast soon, anyway, he thought as he nestled into the soft pillows and let sleep take him.

[anthony-cohen-blog]

QUESTIONNAIRE

PART 1: THE BASICS

What is your full name? Anthony Joshua Cohen

Where and when were you born? In a small, barely-named town on the west coast of the US, 25 years ago

Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.) Monty and Eshel Cohen, both working at the local middle school of our town, my father as a maths teacher, my mother as the librarian. They are mellow-hearted, simple people who mean no harm and pull their small weight in society as best as they can, hardly ever complaining, never wanting more than just leading a happy, comfortable life. 

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like? No siblings by blood, no, but Tanner, James and Micah who I met in the Biel hospital will always somehow count as family.

Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people. Tanner has temporarily given me shelter until I find an affordable apartment. Sometimes I dream about never leaving her again, but she is with her girlfriend, and who am I to intrude?

What is your occupation? Waiting in a bar and sorting in products in a supermarket.

Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks. People say I look good, I prefer not to look at all. I try to blend, and I think my unflashy appearance helps, but for the leather jacket that is. But I need this one. I’ve got blue eyes, curly light hair (it’s rather soft but I don’t like people touching it) and pale skin; all attributes that make it easy to be trusted and forgotten by the people I meet.

To which social class do you belong? Despite not owning much at the moment and requiring two pasttime jobs to pay my mere share, I would still consider myself middle class because if I were to truly need it, I coudl always go back home to my parents and ask for help. That is a luxury not many have. 

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses? You mean except turning into a walking bush every now and then? No.

Are you right or left-handed? Right-handed.

What does your voice sound like? I keep it low, I don’t like talking, I don’t like people hearing me, so I guess I mumble a lot. But I’ve also spent a lot of time living with someone far away from any noise, so I prefer being silent than talking over noises around me. 

What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently? I make sure not to have verbal habits, as they help people remember you. But I think I shrug a lot, if that counts.

What do you have in your pockets? Let me see. Cigarettes, a lighter, keys, money, the usual. Oh, and if you don’t tell anyone ... a few pretty stones I found along my way. They mean nothing. But they’re pretty.

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics? No. As I said, I make sure not to. 

PART 2: GROWING UP

How would you describe your childhood in general? Chaotic, very stressful. My parents wanted to know what was wrong with me, and eventually gave me to the Biels. Those are anything but happy memories, but everything after that was a simple, calm life. They thought I had been cured, you know.

What is your earliest memory? The red balloon I got for my third birthday, I was very excited about it, don’t ask.

How much schooling have you had? I graduated high school.

Did you enjoy school? I never hated it. Learning in itself is something wonderful, but sitting in a classroom all day was never my favourite thing to do, even if I didn’t despise it. I was never bullied or particularly popular either, by the way, so I never made horrible memories.

Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities? At the Biel Hospital, learning how to shut all emotions out. I think, above all, this is what taught me how to survive.

While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them. No. I never wanted to be like anyone else because I never wanted to be.

While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family? After I came back from the hospital, well. They are normal and simple people, I am good at being normal and simple. Totally ... human.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? Cured.

As a child, what were your favorite activities? I liked listening to people talk and read to me, I think. I was never allowed around other kids before the hospital, so I don’t think I had many exciting hobbies worth talking about.

As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display? I think I was predispositioned to be a happy child, but my parents sorrows about my condition made me, if not anxious, quiet and guilt-charged.

As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like? I spent most of my days alone before the hospital, in the hospital I met Tanner, James and Micah and we were great friends, family, and after the hospital I was good with a few people I shared classes with. I went to parties and proms but I was also never invited to sleep overs or dates. 

When and with whom was your first kiss? Cora Singer, whom I had been sharing classes with for many years, was my first kiss and girlfriend. We were together for about five months, I can’t quite remember why we broke up.

Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity? After Cora Singer came Loreley Abson. We were only together for a few weeks in the last year of high school and I think she slept with me because she didn’t want to go to college as a virgin. However, when I close my eyes and think of my first time, I’ll always think of Purple.

If you are a supernatural being (can include Gifted), tell the story of how you became what you are or first learned of your own abilities. If you are just a normal human, describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today. I was born with my gift, and for many years I considered it a curse because my parents did. I was experimented on, some would call it torture, but I like to think I was treated. Not healed as my parents think, but treated. I now know how to suppress my abilities and deal with them. The first time I called it my gift, though, was when Purple showed me the beauty of it.

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far? When the hospital burnt one night and Tanner saved us. And then, a few years later, when I met Purple. It’s maybe cheesy or stupid to say that, but our first kiss, to realise what love means, that was very important to me.

Who has had the most influence on you? I don’t know? Children are influenced by parents, no? I don’t consider myself particularly influenced. Then again, Purple changed my opinion on many things, like my gift. No, really, I can’t answer this question.

What do you consider your greatest achievement? Finding Tanner.

What is your greatest regret? That I am who I am. I think I caused a lot of pain for my family. I know I should not feel ashamed for it, but if I had the choice to give it all away, I might.

What is the most evil thing you have ever done? I’ve done a lot of unspeakable things. Unspeakable in the sense that saying them out loud could get me in trouble with the law. But at the end of the day I never hurt anybody. I did what I had to do to survive, but never at a cost of someone’s well-being.

Do you have a criminal record of any kind? Not officially, no.

When was the time you were the most frightened? Every night at the Biel hospital. 

What is the most embarrassing thing to ever to happen to you? Oh. That. I once went to school on a Saturday by accident. But I guess that’s not very ... 

If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why? Maybe I’d teach myself how to control my gift sooner. Maybe I’d make myself never fall in love with Purple. Maybe I’d never leave him.

What is your best memory? Last month, meeting Tanner again. I have other beautiful memories, but this? It shines bright against everything else.

What is your worst memory? There have been many ugly memories, but just like with the good ones, it’s what happened the most recent that hurts the most. Destroying Purple’s trailer in our fight. I. I am still disgusted by having done that.

PART 4: BELIEFS AND OPINIONS

Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic? Optimistic.

What is your greatest fear? Losing Tanner again.

What are your religious views? My father is an Atheist, my mother Jewish, I’d like to say I believe in nothing, but ever since the portals have been opened? What is real and what isn’t anymore?

What are your political views? I believe the well-being of the individual is more important than money.

What are your views on sex? It is just natural. Neither avoiding it nor making everything about it seems sensical to me but then again, I can’t really have it. Not with someone else, at least.

Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable? I asked myself this question many times and I think, yes. I would be. To protect those who love, I would go very very far.

In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do? Take someone’s life. But my answer stands.

Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love? I wish I could say no, but then, sometimes I meet people and I just know that I will see them again, that they will matter to me one day, and how else would you explain that?

What do you believe makes a successful life? Who cares about success.

How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)? To myself I have no choice but to be honest. If I were to ignore how I feel, poppies and violets would bloom to remind me. But to others? I don’t know. I’ve learned how to suppress all feelings, and in a way I’d rather never share them with others. Even if that means to lie to those I love.

Do you have any biases or prejudices? The more time passes and the more Royce Industries goes against the gifted, the more I find myself despising the non-gifted. Other than that, no, I don’t think I am very biased. I go with what is logical, and sometimes the most beautiful thing to believe.

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it? No. 

Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)? All those who have saved me, deserved to be saved in return. My parents. Tanner. Purple. 

PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS WITH OTHERS

In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how?

Who is the most important person in your life, and why?

Who is the person you respect the most, and why?

Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people.

Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person.

Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened.

What do you look for in a potential lover?

How close are you to your family?

Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not?

Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help?

Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why?

If you died or went missing, who would miss you?

Who is the person you despise the most, and why?

Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict?

Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations?

Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not?

Do you care what others think of you?

PART 6: LIKES AND DISLIKES

What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes? I like taking long walks and baths.

What is your most treasured possession? None of the few tings I own are treasured.

What is your favorite color? Yellow.

What is your favorite food? Bread is good.

What, if anything, do you like to read? I don’t enjoy reading.

What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)? To talk with someone you like until late at night. When I still had a car, I used to listen to music, whatever was on the radio. But I’d never consider it good entertainment. Necessary, if anything. The same goes for all other form of art.

Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit? I smoke cigarettes, but I can’t drink or do drugs. They make me lose control on my gift, and that is the last thing I can have.

How do you spend a typical Saturday night? I didn’t have a typical Saturday night in many many years. At the moment I cook if ever someone is hungry, back in high school I used to hang out with my friends by the football stadium. 

What makes you laugh? A lot of things, actually. I like me a good joke. I have a simple humour, I think, Charlie Chapman and Laurel and Hardy will always get a chuckle out of me.

What, if anything, shocks or offends you? Violence of all sort. Even just yelling or threats. It makes me very uneasy.

What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself? This happens a lot. Usually I go take a walk or drink tea. I like just pondering about things.

How do you deal with stress? I’m hardly ever stressed, it’s not really something that happens in my life style, but the answer would be the same as the previous one.

Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan? This is a strange question because my whole life through I had a plan. At first I needed to find someone to cure me. Then I needed to find Tanner. Within those two plans I act spontaneously and never ever planned, but can you still call that spontaneous? If you do everything as it comes up as long as it lets you stay on your path?

What are your pet peeves? People who can’t listen. People who judge others blindly. People who only care about themselves. 

PART 7: SELF IMAGES AND ETC.

Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted? At the moment, I get up with the sun, get myself cleaned and dressed, then make breakfast for whoever wants. Then I go to work. Take breaks. Come home and cook again. Sometiems I go back to work for a later shift. But usually, if I can, I go to sleep with the sun, too. I cannot stand the night. Back when I still used to travel around it was about the same thing. 

What is your greatest strength as a person? I guess you could call me loyal.

What is your greatest weakness? The same, I fear. 

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? Please don’t make me say it...

Are you generally introverted or extroverted? Introverted. People exhaust me.

Are you generally organized or messy? I don’t care about being orderly or planned out within my own space, but as soon as it affects others I can be very organized and clean.

Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at. Reading people (and thus making them trust me, waiting, getting jobs, etc), cooking tea, and waiting. The waiting-waiting. Sitting and taking a breath. Letting time pass with patience. I’m good at that. What I’m bad at is expressing myself, not getting hurt by small things, and trusting people.

Do you like yourself? I serve my own purpose.

What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime? I once wanted to find someone, now I don’t know anymore. I have lost all ambition.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years? Please. Don’t ask me about the future.

If you could choose, how would you want to die? Painless, fast, with my body looking preserved enough for my parents to identify me and being able to say their goodbyes.

If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left. I’d do just what I’m doing now. Maybe say the things I could never speak.

What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death? I don’t wish to be remembered.

What three words best describe your personality? Quiet, loyal, healthy.

What three words would others probably use to describe you? Quiet, odd, good. Or at least I wish they did.

[rejectedusername-trashfics]

Madness is Contagious: Chapter 4- Fire and Order

Summary: After the Mad King is put back in jail, one of two his nieces is appointed CEO of Monarch Labs. The niece seems disinterested in the company, but in keen on figuring out how to cure her uncle’s madness. His other niece wants to keep the madness alive. After an attempt at a cure goes aerie, the madness is transferred to Vav. X-Ray ends up getting captured along with the new CEO niece. Will Hilda, Rusty, and the sane King be able to make things go back to normal? 

Chapter: 4/10

Word Count: 1,429

First / Previous / Next / AO3

After Hilda and Poppy had had their talk, Hilda was a bit more open with the CEO. She told her that she was working on upgrades for X-Ray and Vav, but she wouldn’t go into what those were. Poppy said that was completely fine because she’d eventually get to see the upgrades in action, fighting crime. While this made Hilda uneasy, it technically was what Poppy had wanted.

The day had come where Hilda had finished the upgrades. X-Ray and Vav were both called into the lab to check them out. They both visited the lab, and Rusty decided to tag along to see what his buddies would be working with now.

The three of them walked into the lab. “Fucking finally” X-Ray called out as he walked in.

“I’m quite curious to see how we can use this new gear to add into our efforts to protect the city.” Vav added in.

Rusty shrugged. “And I’m curious to see how this could possibly add to danger if stuff goes wrong.”

“Have more faith in us,” Vav pouted.

“Come on. Maybe now we’ll be able to increase our strength and jump tall buildings,” X-Ray replied, hopefully.

“NOPE,” Hilda yelled, getting the groups attention.

“Then what did you do?” X-Ray asked. He and the group walked over to Hilda’s work station.

ORF floated over to the group. “Greeting. Are you ready for potential upgrades?”

“Of course.” Vav smiled.

“Hell yeah!” X-Ray cheered.

“Alright,” Hilda started. First, she turned to X-Ray. “While these glasses have the same functions, laser shooting and x-ray vision, that your current ones do,”

“Lame,” X-Ray interrupted.

Hilda rolled her eyes. “They are also equipped with a new ray that you can use to take things and move them. Sorta like telekinesis.”

X-Ray quickly swapped his old glasses for the new ones. He used his new vision to pick up a beaker. He made it levitate in the air, and put it back down. “Kickass!”

Then Hilda turned to Vav. “You’re upgrade isn’t anything like telekinesis, but I know it will certainly harm villains. Plus, I trust you more with your particular upgrade more than X-Ray.”

“Hey!”

“Alright that’s fine, but what is it?” Vav asked.

“Look to the far wall, aim and fire,”’ Hilda instructed.

Vav did as instructed. He aimed his gloves the wall, and fired. A thick plume of flames came out. “Woah.”

“With me doing that, I remembered that I think I may have forgotten to keep the slow-motion ray in there.” Vav nodded and handed a glove back to Hilda so she could check.

“I’m still not sure giving either of these guys fire was a good idea,” Rusty commented.

Suddenly the door to the lab swung open. “I THINK I DID IT!” Poppy yelled, running into the room with a ray gun.

X-Ray captured Poppy with his telekinesis vision, and pulled her into his arms. “Fancy seeing you here.” he said as he cradled her in his arms.

“Ugh.” Poppy replied as she pushed away from him.

“What did you do?” Hilda asked.

“I’m pretty sure I finished my sanity ray,” she answered happily.

“That’s wonderful, Miss Poppy,” Vav congratulated.

“I’m not actually sure you can fix madness,” Rusty speculated. Poppy rolled her eyes in response.

“Now, maybe you can go along with that crazy plan you had,” Hilda replied with a smile.

“I can’t wait to heal my uncle!”

“And your sister too, right?”

Poppy shrugged. “I thought that was implied.”

Then the alarm went out throughout the building. “What the bloody toss is that?” Vav asked.

“I forgot we even had an alarm,” Hilda yelled as she covered her ears, annoyed.

“Looks like I might have to wait very long at all.” Poppy huffed.

“Come on, Vav. Let’s beat the Mad King again, and no Mogar this time.” X-Ray stated as he and Vav got into battle position. Rusty and Poppy went and joined Hilda and ORF behind the work counter.

The doors burst open with the Mad King strutting in. A woman dressed in similar outfit as Mad King, with a broken tiara in her head instead of crow, followed behind him. The woman looked almost exactly like Poppy, except her hair was longer and the same color as the Mad King’s. “I have come to reclaim what is mine.” The Mad King announced.

“Who are you, and why do you look Poppy?” X-Ray asked, distracted.

The woman ignored X-Ray and gave Poppy an evil grin. “Hello, sister,” she smirked.

“Rose,” Poppy growled in response.

“Wait, is that why you don’t like roses?” X-Ray asked.

“Focus,” Vav commanded.

“I believe that you took something of mine, dear sister. So, I’m here to take it back,” Rose continued.

“We’re here to take it back, Mad Princess.” Mad king corrected her and addressed her by her villain name.

“Right, sorry.”

“But, we’ll stop you again, Mad King!” Vav scowled.

“Don’t worry, I can command these two to stop,” Mad Princess told her uncle. Then her eyes began to glow dark green. “You surrender,” she commanded. But nothing happened.

“Ha, it’s just like the key to the city! You have to HAVE a mind for it to be controlled” Rusty called out.

“Thanks, Rusty,” Vav responded as he rolled his eyes.

“Now, you might look hot like Poppy, but the real Poppy is way hotter!” X-Ray yelled, as he used his glasses to move Mad Princess off to the side.

“It’s my turn to block off the Mad King” Vav announced as he used the glove he was still wearing to create a think wall of flames, blocking of the Mad King and Princess. After a minute. The Mad King walked through the flames as if they were nothing. “What? How are you…?”

“Do you really think I’m foolish enough not to make sure my clothes we’re flame retardant?” The Mad King asked as he grabbed Vav by the neck, lifting him into the air.

Poppy jumped over the counter and aimed her gun. “Let him go!” she yelled. She shot her ray at Mad King. The ray enveloped both he and Vav. After a minute, The Mad King released Vav and fell unconscious on the floor. Vav landed on his feet and began to laugh manically. “That is why botany is the science I’ve studied, not this,” she said to herself.

“Thank you, Hilda, but I don’t think I will be needing your flame gloves,” Vav smirked.

“And why is that?” Hilda asked skeptically.

Vav slid the glove off his hand and raised his arms up. Streams of flames shot out of both of his hands.

“FUCK!” Poppy screamed.

Vav ran over and grabbed Poppy. “The Vav you know is gone. My name is Pyro now, and I suggest you remember that,” he commanded

“Pyro or not, Vav, I’m not letting you take my girl!” X-Ray yelled at Vav. He began to run at Vav when something caught his cape.

“I don’t think so,” Mad Princess replied, X-Ray’s cape in hand. She yanked the cape hard, pulling X-Ray to the ground. Then she stepped on his arms and kicked him in the head, knocking him out. “Telling me that my sister is hotter than me makes me very bitter.”

“GO!” Poppy screamed from Vav/Pyro’s arms. “TAKE MY UNCLE AND RUN! RUN AND GO FIND A TIMOTHY RIMULUS!”

Rusty ran over and slung the passed out Mad King over his shoulders, then he, Hilda and ORF ran out of the lab and out of the building.

“What the fuck was all that?!” Hilda yelled in the alleyway outside.

“That looks like some serious family drama.” Rusty pointed out.

“And Vav is evil now! What the fuck?!”

“And he’s’ got fire powers and calling himself, Pyro.”

“AND WHO THE FUCK IS TIMOTHY RIMULUS SUPPOSED TO BE?!”

“I would guess boyfriend, but I really doubt that.���

“Whoever he is, I guess we have to find him now so he can come save the day.” Hilda replied, annoyed.

“Uuuuuuugggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” The Mad King started.

“Oh shit, he’s waking up,” Rusty said, surprised.

“I don’t think… I’m wearing pants… Why…?”

“Come on, let’s just leave him and go looking for this ‘Timothy Rimulus,”

Rusty sat the king down, and the king groaned. “’We can make my home a base, but we’ll have to use the library for technology,”

“This adventure is exciting,” ORF commented.

Hilda rolled her eyes one more time. “But it is far from optimal,” she replied. Then the group left Mad King in the alleyway and began to walk to Rusty’s box.