#only a few number of people will see this but everyone deserves a dandelion either way

[fistfightinganxietyandlosing]

If you see this post, have a dandelion

[crowleyellestair]

Hello! * waves hand excitingly like a five years old* Could You please write somethig for Eskel? I love him so much and there are just a few drabbles about him. I was thinking something fluffly? Like he's courting reader (or something like the blurb you wrote)? He's such soft boi

 Sorry for the tardiness, but I’m officially done with the college semester, and can finally get to writing!

AN// He is a soft boi. Bashful boy, I call him. Much longer than I intended, but I hope you like it!!

 Aedd Gynvael was out of the way for any witcher, unless one was coming back to Kaer Morhen from the Dragon Mountains. There was really no reason Eskel had made his way up to the place the first time round. He hadn’t had any food for the trail, but he was also a week early, and could easily hunt. Maybe it was his distinct need for people. Despite being a witcher, he still enjoyed company. He loved his pack, but Lambert wasn’t the freshest flower to take all contact from. Gynvael wasn’t exactly the best place for large numbers, and proved perfect for small interactions. Maybe he had made his way up for one final contract. Usually, Eskel reveled in the relaxation and laidback training, but he felt something under his skin, aching to expel energy.

Maybe it was fate.

That’s what Dandelion had believed, at least. Eskel didn’t know how he found himself asking the bard for help either, but mindlessly walking to Gynvael had worked out so perfectly- the very thing that led him here now. Y/n was a bookshop owner that had moved there after her aunt passed. She had lived in the south, and had quite the enterprise, though she felt she had a duty to keep that store in her family. He hadn’t known there was a bookstore there, and it seemed quite old. Again, most witchers don’t happen upon Aedd Gynvael, but Eskel had connections. Every bookstore knew of every other official store, yet he had never heard of this one. It was luck that only a month before he had visited, Y/n took over the shop.

It was even more luck he had come upon for her to be a gentle soul, happily inviting him in. Y/n had taken one look at him and pointed him to a few books he had loved, somehow reading him just as easily as the books that surrounded them. Y/n had actually found some titles he hadn’t heard of, and he left after a great discussion on the validity of new Elven poetry with a handful of new books.

It wasn’t until he had made it back to the fortress that he found a small book under the pile. A short Dwarven love novella. Now, Eskel loved books, and he didn’t discriminate on what he read. He does have preferences though, and a guilty pleasure of his were those small love stories that wives read once they finished with their sewing circles. There was a long contemplation on whether or not she was a mage or had some form of magic, but he remembered not feeling anything. So, once winter had passed, he decided to place the books on his personal shelves, and take some important texts back to her that she lacked in her personal selection.

A year had passed, and when he went back, he found the woman still in the little shop. A small bundle of books was wrapped for his reappearance, despite her admitting she wasn’t sure he’d ever visit again. Eskel had spent a week in town, arriving two weeks earlier, so he could have time to spare.

Eskel wasn’t one to rush into things, unless he was following his fellow wolf. But he trusted them to have at least some semblance of a plan. With Y/n, however, he was ready to rush into anything headfirst. There were too many kind smiles or polite offerings that he would be a fool to even think of passing her by. When he heard Dandelion was visiting for the winter, he hadn’t thought of the repercussions of courting the woman, he simply asked how he could.

So, there they sat, the grand hall empty despite the two at the table. The witcher had snuck away from scaffolding to try and get the bard alone. There were brown locks being tucked under a bonnet despite there not being a need for the feathered hat. Eskel had started to regret asking, as the younger man seemed too excited to help.

“I’m just saying that it might help if I saw the lady.”

“I don’t need an audience, bard. I simply need ideas for courting.” His hand brushed his cheek, and his eyes casted to the table. “I haven’t been near any court in a while, and I don’t know what is considered acceptable.”

“Aedd Gynvael hasn’t seen a proper court in a while either.” Golden eyes shot up to the poet, and he sighed apologetically. “What have you done so far? Where do you want this to go? A simple romp or something a little more permanent?” While the witcher had started this, he certainly wasn’t ready to finish it. He doesn’t want any of the brothers to walk in, but an excuse to get him out of the mess he has created would be welcome.

“Don’t know yet. I gave her some old tomes for her personal collection, and I hung around town to just…talk.” And they had. Eskel had walked her to and from everywhere she went, and they spoke of everything. He didn’t know what it was, but she was able to coax stories out of him like syrup over hot pastries. The man had unburdened himself of so much over the week that was soaked up by a caring ear. It was a blessing and a curse, as it meant that Y/n didn’t speak too much of herself, thoroughly making courting much harder. Eskel didn’t know her favorite flower or poem. He wasn’t even sure if she truly loved music- all things that normal courtship has and expresses love.

Love

Maybe too early to say such a word, but the excitement of him being able to have it in the future when he thought he could never be on the receiving end has set everything on a faster timetable. But he doesn’t want to cheap out on her- Y/n deserves proper courting. Proper courting for a proper lady. It was clear that she was more of a lady than any in high courts or any daughter of a noble. Hell, she could be more of a man than most, as well. But maybe he shouldn’t bring that up to her. She might laugh at the thought, but even the slimmest chance of offending puts that off the table.

“Eskel, my friend, out of everyone here, I expected you to be the romantic. Yet here you are, giving me nothing to work with.” Julian’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, though the pressure to add more pushed them from his mind out into the open.

“She’s manly.”

“What?” Shock and confusion painted his face, and Eskel felt like his face would melt by the embarrassment.

“I mean… Y/n has a way about her. She’s more noble than most knights I know. Her time in the south hadn’t treated her right, but despite that, it was her home. She only moved up here because her aunt wanted the store to stay in the family.” Dandelion nodded in understanding before his hand went to cup his own chin in thought.

“She’s a bookstore owner, lives on her own, has gone through hard times in the south…hm. Write her your own poetry.” Eskel practically choked on the inhale of breath at his advice.

“My own? I don’t think that’s wise.” The poet’s brow raised, not believing that his advice isn’t being taken. Eskel started to internally scold himself now that he needs to write poetry. He’s read thousands of poems, but that didn’t mean he was qualified to write his own.

“Eskel, I’m trying to help you start. I know it seems farfetched, but what do you have in mind? You need something for her to remember you by. If you’re traipsing in the south for two thirds of the year, she needs something powerful and from the heart.” The witcher’s shoulders sagged an inch, conceding to his fate.

“When you put it like that, bard, it makes sense.” The two men stare at each other for a couple of moments, Dandelion letting the older man work through his thoughts. Bashfully, the witcher’s hand found his cheek again, feeling the heat under even the scarred skin. “How do I… start?”

 Winter came and went for the shopkeeper. Gynvael didn’t have much foot traffic, but Y/n had started to incorporate a library system within the shop, allowing people to borrow for a smaller fee. The change of weather from the south to the north had been drastic, and the first winter had been dreadful. This winter, however, was made much warmer due to the heat in her chest. Eskel hadn’t visited after the first winter, only giving her the books once he made his way back before this one. The thought of him carrying important tomes for half a year just for her had a way of lighting her world. Being a business owner herself often scared away suitors despite their interests in her. Court life was also difficult. In the south, she was either made fun of for reading too much, or she wasn’t encouraged to express opinions created by these books, even if they were historically accurate. The north had been a nice change. And despite the weather and longing, Y/n wouldn’t change her station after the witcher tried to sneak into her store as to not be seen by the rest of the public.

The large man had seemed swept off his feet by her, and she couldn’t believe it. A small bookstore owner lifting him up just through books and being kind? It made her yearn to know what he had gone through. She had gotten some stories, but she knew she’d sit and wait her whole life if she had to, just to hear more about him.

When the bell went off in her shop, she now only wished it to be that man. Winter was officially over, but Y/n understood her location in relation to the rest of the continent. It would be out of his way to travel to her, then travel south, but when she didn’t hear footsteps after the bell, her heart soared. As she suspected, the large man stood in the lobby of the shop, arms tight to himself, and eyes casting everywhere on high alert.

“Did I miss the year, or are you really here after winter?” A large smile spread on her face upon seeing the man. She would never admit to anyone that her smile grew upon seeing his red face match the color of his gambeson. Though, she was sure that he could hear how fast her heart was.

“I wanted to see you.” It slipped past his lips without running through his filter, and his heart also sped. “I mean, I have something for you.” Eskel was fine and excited to start something, but he didn’t want to seem like he was dragging her along due to his speed. He wanted to be by her side every step of the way. The brown parcel in his hand was burning, and he regretted how fast he jabbed the wrapped item towards her. The witcher was mesmerized as her smile never faltered. Y/n’s fingertips brushed gently along the back of his fingers as she took hold of it, and Eskel did everything in his power not to flinch. When his hand was emptied, he did everything in his power not to reach out. The woman nodded towards the seat behind the counter, and pulled the small footstool out from between some shelves. Even after he insisted heavily during his last visit, she always made sure he sat in the chair, rather than the stool or standing.

She sat, carefully unfolding the brown wrappings, as if that too was apart of something precious. Eskel’s hands started to fidget in his lap. Y/n sat in front of him, looking like a black pearl on shore. The smile faded to a gentle grin, but the joy of his return was ever present. A light dress was all she wore, seemingly used to the colder weather, and now it being spring, trying to reason with mother nature to bring warmer tides simply through fashion. Her hair was down, caringly cupping her face as a mother did a babe. Gentle eyes tried to catch glimpses of him, seemingly not capable of holding resentment for him. The more he thought about everything that was perfect about her, he started to try and predict what her reaction might be. He was lucky enough to travel down the trail with Geralt and Dandelion, who reassured him every step of the way. Now, he can’t bare what his mind has conjured. He finally made his mind up, moving to leave when he heard a small gasp.

The small book had been hard to make, but he was pretty proud with how it turned out in the end. There had been a witcher, long passed, that had been a poet, who had kept a book in their library. Vesemir had given it to him, somehow finding out his plan. The cover and spine were nice, but the pages had been falling out. There weren’t any extra pages either, but Vesemir had paper pulping supplies the younger witcher used. After finishing the paper, he rearranged everything, attaching it to the spine and adding some ironwork detailing at the edges. The first half was poetry and musing of the other witcher about life and witchering, but the second half was all Eskel’s poetry of the woman now holding the book.

Y/n gently carded through the pages, stopping on the little note he wrote for her at the start of his section. It was simple and quick, but lifechanging for her.

Remember me. I’ll always come back.

The witcher could hear- almost feel, her heart pounding. The grin had spread like a wildfire and she bolted from her small stool into his standing form. The arms around his waist were crushing, but he quickly folded himself around her as well.

‘Would you mind reading some to me?” she asked. Of course, he had agreed, and she closed the shop despite it being morning. He was brought to her home above the shop, and was in the common room were there wasn’t a couch, but a cushion area by the window. She sat, back to chest as he read to her. They both had seemed to fall asleep, waking the next day. Eskel had to leave, but he gave her the address of the postal in the south that he would visit twice while away if she ever had the inclination to send something. She told him that she would probably start writing even minutes after he would leave, as she would already miss him. Before he left, he noticed a shelf completely empty besides a handful of books. He knew the tomes he gave her were in her room, but when asked, it was apparently for him.

“I order things from other places, or sometimes I leave for Oxenfort showings, and I grab things I think you’ll like. I already have a new parcel, if you want to take some for the road. If not, you always have a shelf here.” Eskel agreed, and promised to write to her. It was a month into traveling, and he had already lost his small comb on the bottom of his bag.

As he rummaged through, he found another small book that he didn’t remember putting in there. He pulled it out, recognizing the quickly scrawled authors name. The inside of the cover had a small, fine writing made out to him.

I know the author of that Dwarvish novela, and asked if he’d write a second part after you said you’d enjoyed the first. It’s your own personal copy, as he isn’t going to ever publish it. Enjoy.

There’s another note under it, somewhat smudged due to the ink not drying in the time she wrote it and closed the book.

There’s no way I could ever forget you. I’ll always be waiting

(Check out my other Eskel Blurb : Reading)

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Downton Court Hotel pt. 5

WHO WANTS TO READ ABOUT A WEDDING?

Okay, I should probably sleep on this before I post it, but I’ve been pulling my hair out over it for days now and it’s done and it’s going up. Period. I’ll sleep on it before posting it to Ao3. Maybe rewrite a couple of sections, but not likely. Just....for now....IT’S DONE!

.........now I have to write the reception. Oi.

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Characters: Joseph Molsley, John Bates, Thomas Barrow, Sybil Branson, Sybbie Branson, Tom Branson, Anna Bates, Father Travis, Phyllis Baxter, OMCs

Relationship: Baxter/Molesley, canon pairings 

Warnings: Thomas and Bates in the same general space while kinda stressed. Also, I don’t really attend weddings. Traditions will be ignored and adhered to as suits my purpose. Probably soppy af. Also, I’m tired, so if spell check doesn’t catch it, it’s probably spelled wrong.

https://bitletsanddrabbles.tumblr.com/post/182962565359/downton-court-hotel-pt-4

"You have the ring, don't you, John?"

The question, asked for at least the tenth time in as many minutes, Thomas was certain, made him want to scream. Oddly enough, the answer hadn't changed.

"Yes, Joseph, I have the ring," Mr. Bates assured his friend as he worked at straightening his bow tie. "You've nothing to worry about."

Mr. Molesley did not look convinced. He'd not looked convinced all morning. From the colour of his face, you'd think he was planning on climbling bare handed down the cliffs of Dover without a safety rope, not getting married to the woman he'd been madly in love with since the moment they met. "I can't help it," he protested, straightening his own bow tie. Again. "I want this wedding to be perfect. She's perfect. She deserves a perfect wedding."

Unable to take anymore, Thomas fought to keep his tone light rather than biting and quipped, "Well then, you might concentrated on breathing. Going to put a bit of a damper on things if you faint into Bates's arms. After all, vapours are supposed to be the bride's job." Not, he thought, that there was any danger of Phyllis fainting. If she hadn't fainted from nerves the first go around she certainly wasn't going to do it today, and as part of the bridal party, he'd already gotten to see the dress. It wasn't that tight.

Rather than seeing the humor in the statement and realizing that he was being ridiculous, Mr. Molelsey turned, if possible, even paler. "Oh God. Do you think that would happen?"

"If you don't breathe? Yes!" Thomas rolled his eyes.

This, of course, was entirely too much for Bates. "Thomas," the older man glowered at him in the mirror, "If you can't be pleasant for a few hours, maybe you should go over to the bride's side and see about changing into your dress."

The blow hit home, right on the nerve it was aimed for. "Alright Freud," Thomas snapped, baring his teeth in a mockery of a smile and reaching into his pocket for his fags, "I'll leave the task of keeping the patient from hyperventilating to you. I advise doing a good job, 'cause I doubt you could catch him very well with only one free hand." With that , he turned and stalked from the room. The other three men in the room – an old school friend, a former colleague, and a cousin of some sort who seemed completely unwilling to join in the task of getting the groom to unwind – watched him leave with bewildered looks. Thomas heartily hoped they got indigestion at the reception.

There were people everywhere. Thomas had known that Mrs. Molesley-to-be had intended this to be a somewhat larger affair than the discreet, intimate second marriage of tradition, but it was still being conducted on a much smaller scale than her first wedding, and not only because she was paying for it without the benefit of her fiancee's embezzled funds. It was small enough to make the number of church staff, camera people, ushers, and the like running about behind the scenes utterly bewildering. By the time he made it outside and got a couple lungfuls of nicotine into him, Thomas was ready to murder something.

Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the building and tried to center himself. He honestly wished he had insisted on dressing over with the women. Alright, they all would have complained (and if Anna had been uncomfortable, Bates would have put his foot down, ironically), but he could have insisted on a private dressing room or something. Somewhere that he wouldn't have been forced to listen to Molesley whining and Bates mouthing the same platitudes aud nauseum, even though they weren't working. He was certain Phyllis was far from calm, but she wouldn't be panicking and Anna was undoubtedly doing a good enough job smoothing her feathers that he wouldn't have felt the need to stick his neck out and try something himself.

Honestly, it would serve Bates right if Molesley did pass out in his arm. The only down side to the idea was that it really would ruin the day for Phyllis, and even at his pettiest he couldn't wish that.

With his eyes closed, he had no warning that he was no longer alone until something small, but rather compact hit him in the middle, wrapping itself around his waist, and shrieked, "Mr. Barrow!" in the happiest voice he'd heard all day.

With a bit of an 'oof' he opened his eyes and looked down. "Why hello there, Miss Sybbie," he greeted the small girl gleefully trying to squeeze the life out of him. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see the wedding, silly!" she informed him, giving up her efforts at strangulation and stepping back. She wrinkled her nose. "Why are you smoking that stinky thing? They're bad and they smell bad!"

Crushing his fag out against the wall, even though he'd barely started it, he contrived to look chastised. "You're right, it's a filthy, horrid habit. Unfortunately I picked it up when I was young and now I can't kick it." He gave her a stern look. "Never let anyone talk you into trying it."

"I won't. They stink!"

Now that he was paying attention, Thomas was aware of someone approaching, so it was no surprise when a familiar voice chided, "That's not nice, Sybbie."

"But it's true," Thomas informed her, standing up for the little girl. "She was talking about these." He pulled the pack out of his pocket and held it up.

“Oh, those?" Sybil Branson gave him a playful smile as she walked up and collected her daughter's hand. "In which case, yes, they do stink, and they're terrible for you." She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek which would have given Carson a heart attack. "You should quit."

"That's what I said!" Sybbie informed her.

"I believe I was the one who said that," Thomas reminded her, before turning her attention back to her mother. "Easier said than done, I'm afraid." He looked over her shoulder toward the parking lot. "Is Mr. Branson here?"

"Of course he is, he's just parking the car and he'll be along shortly." Fortunately for everyone, Tom Branson had left his position at Downton Court to become a political journalist before he became engaged to Lord Grantham's youngest daughter, otherwise Carson would have sacked him on the spot. Most of the staff were convinced he was more upset about the match than her father was, not that either of them could have stopped it. "What are you doing out here?" she asked, tilting her head back to meet Thomas's eyes. "Shouldn't you be getting ready? I'd heard you were part of the bridal party."

"Man of Honour," Thomas confirmed. "Things were getting a bit cramped inside, though. Needed a bit of space." He paused and then added, "Mr. Molsley is a bit nervous, and Mr. Bates is the best man. Thought it best to leave the groom to him."

Sybil gave him a knowing look. "I see. Nerves on everyone's part?"

"Not for lack of trying. Still, no one ever wants my help."

"That's not true," she chastised, sounding so much like Phyllis when she thought he was being silly he couldn't help wincing a bit. "Miss Baxter wants your help today, doesn't she?"

Thomas sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "She thinks she does at any rate. We'll see."

"I'm sure you'll do fine. Really, all you have to do is stand there and look handsome, and you've never had a problem doing that."

Thomas couldn't help but chuckling at that one, even if he was well aware she was just flattering his vanity. Still, looking good was one of the few qualities he'd always been praised for, so he felt he could be forgiven for being a touch vain. "I suppose you have a point there, although perhaps you shouldn't let you husband hear you say that."

“Tom isn't going to feel threatened by you," Sybil gave him an arch look. "If nothing else, he knows I'm not your type."

"Mommy?" Sybbie interrupted, tugging on her mother's sleeve. "If I pick some of these flowers, can I be the flower girl?" She pointed to the daisies and dandelions at her feet.

For a moment, both adults were at a loss for words. Then her mother gave her a soft smile and said, as gently as possible, "That's not quite how being a flower girl works, sweety."

"Why?"

“Because Miss Baxter needs to choose the flower girl."

"Why?" the little girl was starting to go from confused to petulant.

"Because it's her wedding, sweety, and if you're going to have a wedding, you have to decide these things for yourself before the wedding day."

In an attempt to cut off another round of questioning, and possibly tears, Thomas added, "Miss Baxter actually isn't having a flower girl."

Following the trend of the day, that seemed to be the exact wrong thing to say. "No flower girl?" Sybbie exclaimed, utterly aghast. If was the first time Thomas had ever seen a small girl utterly aghast that he could remember and he felt somewhat bad for wanting to laugh at the sight. "How can you have a wedding without a flower girl?"

"A rather small one," Thomas tried again. "There's not a ring bearer either."

The logic fell flat, cut down with a huff of childish scorn. "A ring bearer's just a boy."

"Sybbie," her mother scolded, "you really shouldn't pick on boys. Mr. Barrow is a boy. So is Daddy."

"Daddy and Mr. Barrow aren't boys, they're grown ups!"

“Are you talking back to your mother, Sybbie?" a stern voice called from several feet off, heralding the arrival of the last of the Branson family.

"Daddy!" Sybbie turned and ran to her father. "Mommy says you and Mr. Barrow are boys and that you can have a wedding without a flower girl!"

Tom Branson, being somewhere in Thomas's general age bracket, was obviously caught somewhat off guard by being referred to as a boy. However, deciding that his wife must have had good reason for it, he deferred to her judgement, "True on all counts."

"But you and Mr. Barrow are men!" the girl continued to protest.

Catching a slightly better hold of the gist of the conversation, Mr. Branson hoisted his daughter into his arms and informed her, "Men are just boys grown up."

"And some of us never really grow up," Thomas added, before he could think better of it. For the sake of appearance he tacked on, "Unfortunately."

That was, apparently, quite beyond six year old comprehension. "Boys that never grow up? You mean like Peter Pan?"

Thomas waffled his head back and forth a bit, trying to think of better phrasing. "It's more they grow up, but they keep acting like boys. Even though they really shouldn't."

"Not that we know anyone like that," Tom gave Thomas a knowing look.

It wasn't appreciated, but Thomas was no more in the mood to sit and bandy words with the former shuttle driver than he was the day manager. Rolling his eyes, he pushed away from the wall. "I should be heading in. They'll be shooing the wedding party together any minute now. It was lovely seeing you ladies again," Thomas smiled at Sybil and her daughter, not drawing attention to the fact her husband was not included in the sentiment.

"We'll see you at the reception," Sybil smiled at him, then gave him another kiss on the cheek. True to her earlier word, there was no protest from her husband.

"What's a reception?" Sybbie asked.

"It's the part with the fancy cake," Thomas promised her with a grin. "I'll be sure to save you a really big slice."  And with that, he left the happy family with Sybbie gleefully squealing about cake directly into her father's ear.

He'd not gotten far inside the door when Anna descended on him. "There you are! Where have you been hiding? It's time to start lining up to go in. You nearly missed it."

"Yes, well, take it up with the person who left me needing a smoke," he protested as she grabbed his arms and hauled him, with surprising strength, toward the main door of the sanctuary. The rest of the wedding party was already gathered. Daisy was fussing to Gwen about her hair and Molesley was fidgeting up a storm and still looked faint, but beyond that everything seemed in order.

Anna took her place behind Gwen, hauling Thomas into his spot directly across from Mr. Bates. The best man gave him a hard look. "Good of you to join us."

Ten biting comebacks clamored to the front of Thomas's brain, but he held his tongue. If anything went wrong with this wedding, no matter who started it, he was dead certain he was going to get blamed, and he was not going to be - he refused to be! - held responsible for ruining Phyllis's big day. He had enough things being held over his head at work, thank you. He told himself it was like grade school, where the teachers had insisted that if someone hit you, you shouldn't hit back because if they saw, you'd be the one to get in trouble. Of course, he'd never listened to them then, but that didn't mean he couldn't conduct himself like the bigger person now.

Even if no one would recognize that he was being the bigger person and all he really wanted was to kick Bates's walking stick out from under him.

From beyond the closed door, piano music started. Plastering a smile on his face and turning to squarely face the wooden paneling, Thomas took a deep breath and told himself to forget Bates. Maturity aside, he'd realized at the rehearsal that he was on the far side from Bates's walking stick, so he wasn't going to be hit in the shins. All he had to do was walk down the aisle and, as Sybil had said, stand there looking handsome.

He could do that.

The doors swung open. Like a line of cars starting from a dead stop at a light, the processional slowly started to move. Daisy and Mosley's cousin went first, then Gwen and the school friend, and finally Anna with the former colleague. Drawing a deep breath and promising himself a full smoke after this was all said and done, Thomas fell in step next to Bates. They could only pray that Molesley followed behind the way he was supposed to.

St. Michael and All Angels was not a large church, as far as such things went, but it was the sort of church that Thomas's parents had taken him to every Sunday, rain or shine, in all but the worst sickness and health, until he'd left home. He kept his eyes fixed on the alter, avoiding the priest standing to the side of it, and ruthlessly ignored the crawling sense that if Father Travis knew he was gay, he'd have had him banned. It was a ridiculous idea. Hell, in this day and age, the man probably performed same sex marriages. Just because Thomas still had to remind himself, years later, that it was legal now, that didn't mean the rest of the world did.

And besides, Phyllis was the one getting married. Despite her sketchy past, which was more to do with poor taste in first husbands than anything, the clergy had no reason to object to her. He just needed to breathe. After the hard time he'd given Molesley on the subject, Bates really wouldn't ever let him hear the end of it if he turned out being the one to faint.

As they reached the front of the sanctuary, Daisy and her escort parted ways, taking their places opposite each other on the first set of the dias stairs. The pairs continued, parting like a zipper, until Thomas and Bates stopped on the last stair, leaving Molesley to continue by himself up to the alter and turn to face the audience.

So far so good, Thomas thought. They were all still standing at least, and the groom had even managed to stop looking like a prisoner facing execution. He now had a somewhat vacant look on his face as if he were dreaming the whole thing. Thomas wondered if one of the other groomsmen had finally slipped him something.

Father Travis stepped around the alter and his voice rang out, "All rise." The piano struck a melody, not to the warn out strains of Wagner's Bridal Chorus, but something light and cheerful that sounded faintly familiar, but that Thomas couldn't place. It was momentarily lost in the shuffling of bodies standing and turning toward the sanctuary door.

The ushers pulled the door opened once more and Phyllis stepped through. Despite knowing it was her, despite having seen pictures of the dress with the rest of the bridal party, Thomas nearly did a double take to make certain it was, in fact, her. Even though her face was plainly visible, the style of her hair made it look softer than usual. She'd forgone a veil in favor of delicate floral hair combs and a gauzy wrap around her shoulders. Thomas had thought the sleeveless, lace covered cream of the dress a bit plain, even for an unassuming bride, when he saw it in the magazine, but seeing it on her, trailing slightly behind her on the carpet, he was forced to firmly revise his opinion.

It suited her.

It suited her much more than the distant memories of a scalloped neckline, beads everywhere, and a train that had to be carried by some younger female relative, captured on film and shared online by his sister. The small cluster of lily of the valley and baby's breath in her hands suited her more than the hot house worth of lilies and roses.

As she stepped up to Mr. Molesley (who had finally started to look happy for the first time that day, although he also might have stopped breathing completely) and smiled, Thomas stopped trying to draw comparisons with the first wedding.  The bride and groom turned to face the alter. The congregation sat down. But all Thomas really saw was her smile.

Happiness, he thought, suited her.

[semi-imaginary-place]

KH3 is like half a game, it feels incomplete and clunky. It sets up events that never happen and tries to force moments without having the build up to support them. The game does some things really well and reaches some truly heartfelt emotional beats and solid character moments.

3:48 PM - 31 Jan 20191 reply0 retweets1 likeReply 1 Retweet  Like 1 View Tweet activity

The Disney (and Pixar) worlds were pretty well incorporated and mostly able to contribute thematically to the game unlike sometimes in past games were the worlds were kind of just dropped into the game.

The Toy Box much like Halloween Town brings up how dolls/toys/those who begin as inanimate objects can gain hearts. Monstropolis allows a plausible  entry point for Vanitas with the connection between fear induced scream  energy and the negative emotions of the unversed.

Of all the worlds, I enjoyed Sora's time with the Big Hero 6 gang the most. Their interactions felt genuine and I had a lot of fun watching them. It also had the most complete arc of the worlds with the continuation of the movie's theme of living after loss.

Most of the worlds' story arcs felt incomplete. Starting in Olympus we are left hanging with Pete finding Pandora's box and the city in ruins. The story just kind of ends. There also was not enough time and build up to give significance to Hercules' choice to rejoin the mortals.

In Twilight Town, with all the discussion surrounding hearts and data from Coded to KH2 to KH3, that a whole other Twilight Town exists was completely dropped. It felt like the game was leading the audience somewhere and then never followed through.

With the Toy Box, the Sora, Goofy, and Donald leave and don't come back with Woody, Buzz, and the others still stranded in another world just hoping to one day meet Andy again. The search for Andy and the other toys is the main arc for this world and its never resolved.

While some worlds aren't quite as obviously half a story arc, all of them could have used more time. Many of them assume you have already seen the source material. In Frozen, Hans being the villian is the big twist but with the first half of the movie cut, there's no impact.

Pirates of the Caribbean makes no sense to anyone who hasn't seen the movies. I wish there was a scene of Sora unlocking Tia Dalma given how it was setup to happen. There was good characterization for Sora here though on how both he and Jack are free spirits.

The Winnie the Poo part while sweet (because I love Winnie the Poo sections) doesn't go anywhere. Sora just loses his connection with Poo and disappears from the cover, and then a few mini games later he's back. Sora's comment on how their bond has weakened never goes anywhere.

In the other games you search for lost pages or help Poo regain his memories, here there is no story. It's a lost opportunity to do, well something,  but that can be said of much of the game. They could have used this part to talk about how relationships must be nurtured.

The ending also fell a bit flat because of the buildup-payoff problem. The game tries to show the characters despairing only for someone to swoop in and give them hope. The problem is that in the Keyblade Graveyard they do this so many times it loses its impact.

Given the amount of stuff this game should have resolved, not enough time was spent on that. Instead precious time was spent trying to create sequel hooks. In doing so, the cohesiveness of the game as a unit was compromised. The game was too short for all they tried to achieve.

At times the narrative would point "Look! its a  happy/sad/intense/etc. scene", but without a proper build up, these  scenes lacked emotional weight.

I'm conflicted on KHUX in KH3.  I liked Chirithy reuniting with Ven, Laurium possibly remembering, and Strelitzia's maybe cameo. The black box stuff could have been cut. Its to connect  KHUX with future games, but it does nothing for the Xehanort saga and bogs KH3 down.

Then there is the mysterious girl with connections to Lea, Isa, and Ansem that we are only hearing of now. Who is she? Is she Ava? I don't know but they should have saved it for another game.

I thought all the keyblades of the Union members coming to help was a nice touch, but why did Ephemer of all people show up? He was a Dandelion; the player was the one who chose to stay (except the player has no canon appearance in khux which makes them hard to depict).

On one hand I got really excited looking for my KHUX username but on the other hand it was a little too 4th wall breaking and took me out of the game. The other 4th wall leaning scenes with Axel didn't do it for me either.

I did like the definitely-not-instagram loading screens. They were just this side of absurd to be amusing. It was cute. Humor is a subjective thing but I didn't like the increase in jokes in this game. It broke immersion for me.

Some were funny like Verum Rex. Others though felt forced. KH3 had more Donald, Sora, and Goofy poking fun at each other. At first it was fun, but then they kept doing it and it got old.

Maybe its because of all the jokes and narrative problems broke my immersion in the game or maybe its because I'm older now, but KH3 wasn't as magical an experience for me as the other games.

I don't mean magic in how many spells Donald can cast but in that sense wonder, that the extraordinary is possible. That sense of magic is why the Roxas prologue of KH2 is one of my favorite parts of the franchise.

Part of it also is that the section where Sora goes saving everyone's hearts from the Lich after they "died" didn't reach me emotionally. Which is a shame since the part right before where Sora runs around in the Final World and talks with the stars is one of my favorite parts.

I was surprised we didn't see more Dives to the Heart and battles at the center of the heart given the Terranort, Ventus-Vanitas, Xion, etc. After Sora got the power of awakening I was expecting him and Riku to use that to free Xion and Terra.

And then we would get an epic battle where Terra finally kicks Xehanort out of his own body. I also wanted to see Aqua beat up Xehanort. Aqua's suppose to be super strong from spending 10 years in the Realm of Darkness.

Kairi deserved better. Kairi deserved more. 3 games (II, 3D, III) on how Kairi trains to become a keyblade wielder and she doesn't get to do anything. Why was she kidnapped anyways? The answer is to give an excuse for Sora at the end to have a "I must do this alone" moment.

Kairi was kidnapped just so Sora could angst over her and so he could go save her. She deserved better.

The developers really pushed the Sora-Kairi romance this game. I was disoriented since we since the last game we saw a lot of romantic indications was 17 years ago in KH1. Riku got third-wheeled this game.

Enough complaining, parts that worked pretty well/were well executed: Big Hero 6, Monsters Inc, Sora finding the Door to Darkness in Destiny Islands and Aqua returning to the Realm of Light, Sora's interaction with other characters(Rapunzel, BH6, Jack, etc), the Final World.

Visually the environments are amazing! I was so happy running around everywhere. Its pretty. (and the heartless are cute)

KH3 was on the low side for number of worlds visited. Again, I'm surprised how (comparatively) short the game is. There was a lack on Final Fantasy characters as well (or well videogame characters given how TWEWY was in 3D).

I would have loved to see a Moana world. Moana, Maui, and Sora interactions would have been great. Thematically it would have worked too since Moana's plot centers on how Te Fiti losing her heart changed her.

In every KH there's always been some wham moments and that didn't happen to me at all in KH3... until the every end with Luxu. Many of us have been suspicious of Xigbar for a very long time. His organization chair height is too high. He seems to know more than he should...

As much as I am complaining, I do like the Kingdom Hearts III. Its a good game.

I've said it before, but KH:coded is a thematic summary of the entire series and one of the important points in that game is how Data Sora understands hurt. Data Sora understood how to live through hurt and this is something we see Sora learn as well through the games.

In CoM Sora did not understand this. All the way to 3D he did not know how to deal with hurt so when Roxas shared all his pain, that contributed to Sora sinking into darkness. In KH3 though Sora has grown and can accept hurt.

I would have though liked to have seen a more overt conclusion to Sora's relationship to darkness. Sora has always had darkness in him, he's not a princess of heart (or Ven) and there were hints before KH3 that he was falling to darkness.

Anti/Rage form are a manifestations of that darkness. Maybe this was just sloppy character writing, but Sora is noticeably meaner during KH2 and at the end he says "maybe the darkness has gotten to me, too". In KH3, besides rage form Sora's darkness isn't directly addressed.

Back to UX. The devs connected the epilogue, the secret reports, and UX well. That's all that was needed really. From Backcover we already know the black box is important. KH3 shouldn't have wasted time focusing on it.

And about X girl )Shuld?? idk). It really is awkward how they bring her into KH3. If she's the reason Lea and Isa got into this mess they should have dropped a line in 358/2 or one of the other games something like "Don't forget we're doing this for her"

Another good scene was Aqua giving Ven head pats. This gave me life.

Scala ad Caelum was built inverse on top of Daybreak Town. I didn't notice! Never mind what I said earlier, there's the "oh shit... what" moment. I'm just going to sit here mind blown thinking of all the implications...

[mirokuna-hime]

All of the plants

Oh my …God! thank you so much rabbah

This goes under a cut because this is really long and sometimes I couldn’t stop rambling

baby’s breath: 5 things you associate yourself with:

headphones (I’ve got 6 and they are all lying around the house because I#m always hearing music),everything chocolate flavored,literature,games aaannd cats

bleeding heart: what makes you heart go mushy?

I’m pretty hard to crack honestly but if something makes my heart go mushy it’s friendship? Like if I see a beautiful supportive friendship of two people who trust each other unconditionally my heart just melts. Cheeta and Patsu of Castle in the sky (my favorite ghibli movie btw)is a prime example of that. Everyone deserves a friend like Patsu!

bell flower: what’s the title of the song that makes you want to jump around out of joy?

O-zone - Dragostea din tei !                                                                        Numa, numa, yay! Numa, Numa, Numa yay!~ 

Sorry I got carried away a little. This is such an old song , a song of my childhood to be exact but I love it so much I can’t keep my feet still once the first few seconds of this song start playing.

evening primrose: what’s your sleeping playlist (give me 5 songs)?

I have no sleeping playlist, but sometimes they have radioplays with the horror genre in the radio sooo yeah I listen to that to fall asleep (they also do Ann of Green Gables sometimes but pssshhht!)

forget-me-not: who is your favorite blog who isn’t following you?

@checkurselfb4umachuwreckurself I really love his content but i actually don’t mind him not following me since my blog is a mess!

daffodil: what is one plant that you want to have but can never get?

plastic plants…Listen I’m really not good with flowers or anything green, I killed a cactus once and the palm tree in my room isn’t looking that healthy either v.v But my mum won’t allow me one because of all the dust…

calla lily: are you more of a sunny day or a rainy evening?

rainy evening 100% I like thunderstorms even more I think they’re relaxing, a nice book/movie, some tea, some snacks and here you have my dream of an evening

foxglove: what is your favorite color and in what shade?

ughhhh dammit, I love so many colours especially pastels but if you really want me to choose it’s burgundy? I like any colour with some violet in it to be fair…

lavender: what is something that you’ve always wanted to be/have/get but can never have?

My initial thought was “cats!” but I can keep some once I moved out so that doesn’t count. And this now, is goin to sound completely stupid but ..blonde hair. I wanted to be blondewith bright green eyes (I’m a sucker for green eyes)  since I was a small child. My hair is dark brown with a lot of red in it so colouring it isn’t really an option my skintone also doesn’t fit well with blonde hair so rip my aesthetics…

love in a mist: what is the latest dream that you remember?

I dreamed I failed my music test, which I was supposed to be writing today but it was cancelled…

daisy: what is your favorite flavor of cotton candy, ice cream, and juice?

Never had cotton candy, chocolate, good old classic orange juice

painter’s palette: are you more of a singer, dancer, painter, or instrumentalist?

I’m more of a painter, I doodle rather often but I feel insecure about my results maybe one day I will upload something. I’m a disaster when it comes to music to be honest…

tulip: what is your most favorite make-up product? do you like it more natural, dark, or etc?

natural,since I don’t wear make up, I never learned how to use it properly. I’ll look like clown if I would try it now also i feel uncomfortable with it.

waxflower: are you a bee or a butterfly person? a dog or a cat person?

Neither I’m terrified of insects (and spiders) of any kind so even a butterfly will freak me out. I love both but I’m more of a cat person.

sugarbush: do you have sweet tooth? if yes, what’s your favorite sweets? if no, why?

chocolate…and I have a very sweet tooth

sunflower: would you like to be a fairy or a mermaid?

I’d rather be a mermaid that way I can’t drown, which is number one of my list in “Ways I don’t want to Die” (yes I also have a list in ways I would “like” to day before you ask)

sweet pea: what would you like to call your significant other?

Im boring. I would like to call him/her by his/her name or a shortform of it. I only use petnames on actual pets. I call them baby, beautiful, sweety etc. 

sea lavender: can you swim? which strokes can you do?

butterfly style but I’m horribly slow and a bad swimmer.

windflower: list 5 of your favorite blogs and explain why i like them

@sasstral, @xionchan and @checkurselfb4umachuwreckurself I like the content! and the humour! and the people!

@reijiakabutt and @pendulum-sonata :These two are by far not the biggest fans of zexal,but I like reading their rants and they changed my opinions on lots of things plus I like to see things from a different perspective (same goes for @kaguranzu)

golden rod: are you more of a baker or a cook?

I’m a great cook but my desserts are even better! 

bloom: what is something that you would like to tell your children?

I don’t want children but i would propably tell them that it is fine to make mistakes and have regrets, you just need to accept them and grow from that experience!

peony: what is something that you wish your parents could’ve told you?

I wish my family would have been alot more convincing at telling me that “santa is real” ! Every Chrisrmas was hell for the pour soul who had to put on the santa costume because I was a little shit and didn’t believe in santa and searched for proof that he doesn’t exist every. goddamn. christmas! I apologize for that mum.

prairie gentian: do you have a significant other?

never had one

september flower: are you more of a sunshine or sunset person?

sunset, I see it every morning while I walk to school

bird of paradise: do you wake up early? do you sleep early?

wake up early but go to bed rather late..I don’t know how I manage to do this

marigold: what’s your favorite tea?

google translate told me it’s rose hips tea…should I trust him?

peruvian lily: what are the names of your pets?

My first dog was named: Trixie, my second Lucky. I have two birds that are called: Berry and Litschi

hyacinth: do you name your plants?

the name of my palm tree ist Bernd

lilac: would you rather sleep and be cozy or hang out with your friends?Why not both?

poppy: do you like to dip your fries or do you like it as is?

dip!

dandelion: any special talent that you have?

Teachers have been telling me I’m gifted at writing and anylyzing! I#m proud of that