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cursedonyx · 1 year ago

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Garreth Weasley ABCs

Just some Headcanons for our favourite Weasley 🧡

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s a big, playful teddy bear. Having grown up in a large, loving family, Garreth is fond of giving and receiving hugs, ruffling hair, pulling your cloak over your head, and booping your nose. He loves to sneak up behind you and cover your eyes, shouting “guess who?” in a variety of comedic voices which you suppose are meant to be impressions of your classmates. He can be softer when he’s not showing off for everyone, taking your hand gently and rubbing the back of it with his thumb. He’ll sit behind you and rub your shoulders, and he’s very good at it. He likes to sit behind you and rest his chin on your shoulder, his arms around your middle, and just sit quietly for a while as you read to him.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The best way to ingratiate yourself to Garreth is to go along with his schemes. You’ll be well rewarded for it, and he’ll be a true friend. He’s carefree and cheerful, and this is reflected in his attitude to his friends. He’s quite open-minded, and having grown up in such a large family, he’s rarely affected by negative words from others, unless they’re from someone he cares about. He’s unafraid of bending the rules and enjoys causing mischief, but never so much that it would hurt anyone else. That being said, he can struggle with more serious topics, preferring to try to lighten the mood and cheer you up, when all you really need is a shoulder to cry on. Tell him this, and he’ll do his best to give you what you need, even if it takes a few tries to be serious.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He’s a big snuggler. No matter if he’s big spoon or little spoon, his arms are going to engulf you and he’s going to nuzzle his face into the closest crevasse he can, whether it’s your chest, under your arm, in between your shoulder and neck, or the back of your knee. It sometimes seems like he’s actually trying to absorb you, and holy shit does it make you feel safe.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He’s used to household chores, having had to do his fair share at home. He might not enjoy it, but he does a thorough job when he’s cleaning. He’s a fair cook, but he keeps his meals simple and quick, preferring to save his experimentation for the cauldron.

Garreth would love to settle down one day with someone special, and yes, he wants a big, happy family. He’d be a devoted husband and playful father. Any mischief the kids get up to, you can guarantee that Garreth not only knew about it, but encouraged it.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Garreth would make every conceivable effort to save his relationship with you. Long talks, gestures of affection, gifts, promises to help you through whatever it is that’s causing the rift, promising to change if that’s what’s needed, even couple’s therapy. But there are some things he can’t forgive. Cheating, he could perhaps understand, and he’d work to be better, though his trust would be broken. Coldness and distance would make him want to find out why and help you. Aggression or violence would not be tolerated. Any harm towards his children, and you’re gone. He’d sit you down and tell you in no uncertain terms that it’s over, that he’s sorry he couldn’t be better, but this is his decision, and it’s final.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married? How would they propose?)

Garreth could be a bit of a playboy in his youth, dating all and sundry, enjoying the experiences of being with multiple people. But he would want to settle down sometime in his mid-twenties, or perhaps even before, if he meets the right person. He’d absolutely want to get married, and his proposal would be in his typical, playful style. He’d want to get his friends involved, and would probably make a show of it. He might even sing and dance for you before getting down on one knee.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Garreth can be a bit clumsy, both physically and emotionally. He doesn’t mean to be, he’s just enthusiastic, and it’s quite adorable really. If he’s got something big to talk about, he’ll be uncharacteristically soft and gentle.

His hugs and cuddles are like being caught by a bear, very tight and difficult to get out of, not that you’d want to. With his height and frame, you always feel secure when he hugs you, even if he does tend to jerk you right off your feet sometimes. He tends to drag you around by the hand, arm or waist, not because he’s being disrespectful, but again, because he’s enthusiastic, and sometimes forgets his own strength.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He’s a big hugger. He’ll come at you, arms wide, and sweep you in, crushing you to his chest. His one-armed hugs from the side are the same – he scoops you in and jostles you about a bit.

He can be tender, if the situation calls for it. Those hugs are where he really shines, holding you so gently, but so safely, his hand on the back of your head, his other arm around your back, enveloping you like a blanket. Honestly, he gives the best hugs.

I = Intimacy (How do they like to be intimate? Any preferences/kinks?)

Garreth is an enthusiastic lover, and he makes every effort to see you finish before he does, even if he’s not always able. He’s simply enamoured by you, and can’t help but lose himself when he’s with you. If he does finish first, he won’t stop until you do.

He’s open to experimenting and is up for pretty much anything, at least once. “Don’t knock it till you try it” seems to be his motto, but he will respect any and all of your boundaries if you make him aware of them.

His pullout game is horrendous. He can’t help himself.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Much as he hates to admit it, he does get jealous easily, particularly around those he feels have something he doesn’t, whether it’s money, status, a certain kind of charm, or confidence. He’s fairly secure in himself for the most part, but he’s aware of his shortcomings. If he was feeling jealous, he’d make an effort to mark his territory by planting a deliberate kiss on your head or cheek, or taking your hand, or even wrapping his arms around you and leaning on you. If the others don’t get the hint, he’d try and distract you and lead you away. If that fails, he’s just going to pick you up and walk off with you.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Enthusiastic, wet, lots of tongue. He’s going to kiss you every chance he gets, and he’ll kiss you everywhere. He particularly likes nibbling your ear before kissing down your neck to your collarbone, teasing you until you pull him up to kiss him properly. He loves winding you up like that. He particularly loves receiving little forehead kisses when he’s resting next to you, they always make him feel loved.

L = Love (When do they say ‘I love you?’ How are they as a romantic partner?)

Considering his enthusiasm, Garreth would actually be very shy about saying “I love you” for the first time. If he does say it first, it’ll likely be something he builds up to deliberately, worrying about how you’re going to take it. If you say it first, he’ll be relieved, and say it frequently afterwards.

Garreth is a fun romantic partner, his cheer and bright attitude meaning time spent with him is never dull. He always wants to try new things, see new places, and make games out of the things you do. He’s very high-energy, and this can be exhausting for a more laid-back partner. He doesn’t mind putting the effort in to dates and fun things to do, but he can feel a little used or morose if this effort isn’t reciprocated or appreciated.

He’s very loving and attentive to your needs, and he’s not afraid to ask for what he wants in return. He makes a lot of effort in all his actions with you.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

While Garreth enjoys lie-ins, he’s used to a routine and typically rises the same time each day. He’ll typically want breakfast in his pyjamas before he has his shower and gets ready for the day – surprising him with breakfast in bed is one of his favourite things for you to do, and he’ll do it for you a lot, especially if you’ve been feeling a bit down.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Being the high-energy chap that he is, Garreth typically likes to get an early night. This is even better for him if it means he can get in an intimate session with you before settling down to sleep. He doesn’t like to be up much later than ten or eleven in the evening, but will stay up with you if you’ve both planned something, like a late-night picnic under the stars.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Garreth is an open book. If you want to know, ask. He loves talking about his family, his friends, his classes, his professors, his misadventures, all of it. He’s a bit of a gossip, but he knows how to keep a secret. He has a tendency to overshare, but only if it’s about him. He’d never presume to talk about yours or a friend’s secrets without explicit permission.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Chill is his middle name. He usually brushes off things that would annoy or upset most people, the rows he’s had with his huge family have given him a thick skin, and the love from that same family makes him cheerful. He tends to respond with a joke or a quip.

It takes quite a lot to get under his skin, whether it’s constant needling or something large enough to piss him off, and that’s when the grizzly bear comes out. He’ll roar, shout, get all up in their face, and he may even start swinging, depending on how badly he’s been angered (though he wouldn’t ever get violent with you). If he has a fight with a friend, a quick muggle or magic duel will typically resolve everything, and he’s besties with them again, laughing and joking as they patch each other up.

He’s not one to hold grudges, and tends to “live and let live” unless someone’s upset you. That’s when he makes an effort to slip the offender one of his more brilliant potion experiments.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Garreth isn’t necessarily forgetful, but he’s not got the greatest attention span, and can easily get distracted. He will forget birthdays (he’s got a lot to keep track of with his family) but if he knows when your birthday is, he’ll write himself little reminders to make sure he remembers. Whether he remembers to look at the reminders is another matter. If he does forget, he’ll be deeply apologetic and will try to make it up to you in any way he can.

He does remember little things, like your favourite ice cream flavour, your favourite colour, or completely random conversations you had with him years and years ago that you may have forgotten.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

If he had to pick, it’d be the first time you danced together. He’s got two left feet for anything fancy, but he’s always going to remember exactly how you looked, how you had your hair, any jewellery you wore, and the way you felt pressed up against him as you waltzed clumsily around. He didn’t care that he was getting the steps wrong and out of time. He didn’t care that people were laughing. He only cared that he was with you, and you were smiling at him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Considering how easy-going Garreth is, he’s not overly protective. He knows you like to go out and occasionally get yourself into trouble, but he trusts wholeheartedly that you know what you’re doing, and would never presume to try and dampen your adventurous spirit. That being said, he does worry about you, and will fuss over you when you return from an adventure until he’s satisfied that you’re alright. If you’re injured, he’s going to insist he cares for you until you’re all better, even if it’s just a papercut.

If you’re protective of him, he’s gobsmacked. He’s never had anyone stand up for him before, much less protect him, and it makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He might even pretend to be in peril just so you’ll jump in and ‘rescue’ him. He adores meaning so much to you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

A surprising amount of effort goes into Garreth’s plans. He is full of ideas for dates and anniversaries, and he wants them to be as exciting and fun-filled as possible. He’s pretty easygoing, so if the date doesn’t go to plan, overruns or something happens to spoil the plans, he can very quickly come up with a new idea to make the day just as special anyway.

For gifts, Garreth tends to play it safe. For his family, it’s easy. He knows who likes books, who likes Quidditch, who likes chocolate and so on. But for you? Once he knows what you like, that’s what he buys. There will be variations, of course, but if you tell him you like fudge, he’s going to get you fudge.

For everyday tasks, he tends to hurry through them as quickly as possible so he can get to the fun stuff, whether that’s experimenting with a new potion or planning a fun day out.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Garreth believes firmly in the “better out than in” philosophy of life, and he’s not ashamed of it. You are convinced he ate a brass band at one point.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Garreth is quite proud of his looks; he loves having the traditional red hair and freckles of the Weasleys. He’s tall and broad, strong in the shoulders and thick in the waist. He’s got a little bit of a tummy, but he doesn’t care, especially because it’s comfy for you. He does try to make an effort, and at least brushes his hair and cleans his teeth. He wears whatever comes out of the wardrobe first, and prefers functionality over fashion.

That being said, when he does make an effort, he scrubs up extremely well.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

You were a fascinating, bright spark in his life. He’d love to make you his own, as a best friend, or a lover. He’d miss you if you weren’t there, even if you were only friends. He’d try to get over it, and he would manage eventually, but until the end of his days, he will remember you. Though it happens less and less as time goes on, you’ll pop up in his mind from time to time, and he’ll take a moment to close his eyes and remember the way you smiled, the way you smelled, and the way you laughed.

X = Xtra (Random headcanons for them)

Though Garreth complains about Matilda Weasley keeping too close an eye on him, he secretly appreciates it, knowing it comes from a place of love. He’ll go to her with any problems he has, and if he’s feeling blue, he’ll go to her office and curl up on the sofa, reading or doing his homework while she works, just to be close to her.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He’s pretty easy-going, but he can’t stand aggression or bullies. Vindictive, petty people will put him off. He can’t stand liquorice, and the smell of it makes him gag.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Garreth’s very high energy, so when he sleeps, he’s out like a light once his head hits the pillow, and he’s a heavy sleeper. He’s got a pretty good internal clock so even though any alarm would need to be at the rough volume of a cannon, he’ll wake up on time. He tends to spread out on his back, and he does snore. He’s very warm, so he’s great to snuggle up to in the winter.

#garreth weasley #hogwarts legacy #ABC #headcanon #Garreth Weasley x You #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x reader

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scratch-your-headband · 4 years ago

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hi! may i have some relationship hcs for uchiha bois (madara, itachi, sasuke, shisui, obito). if there’re too many then choose the ones you like most. and good luck with this blog, looking forward to reading your works👁👄👁

Dear anon, thank you so much for your patience. We hope you’ll like it✨

Relationship hc for Uchihas

Madara

Let’s be clear, this guy’s got a stern reputation of being a scary piece of shit to keep, so any kind of public affection is a no. No hand holding, no name calling, no touching and definitely no kissing. You may look at him and feel privileged to be walking next to him.

He isn’t the one to get jealous easily, or anyhow at that point. He’s a confident man after all. Maybe even a bit arrogant.

‘Someone better? I’d love to see you try.’

Just don’t mention the Senju. In fact, don’t even look at any of them cause all hell’s breaking loose if you do.

Underneath his being a huge dick act cold facade, lies one of the kindest person you’ve ever encountered. But oh boy you gotta dig deep. C’mon now ladies and gentlemen grab your shovels! It took him quite a long time to feel safe enough to show you that side of his. But it was worth the wait. He may not be very affectionate outside, but once you two get alone he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you.

However, don’t expect to hear ‘I love you’ too often. He’s a man who believes in actions rather than words. He’ll say it maybe once a year, if he’s feeling generous. It will also take him a while to get used to hearing those words from you.

When it comes to cuddling he’s not really the cuddle-all-day-all-night type of guy, but every now and then you’d just feel his arm pulling your head to his chest. Of course, he’d be the big spoon. That’s not negotiable. Please make him be the little spoon anon I’d sell my soul to see that.

Itachi

Won’t be very comfortable with physical touch at first. He needs time to fully trust you and get used to you. He doesn’t forbid PDA, unlike Madara, although he does get easily embarrassed. The two of you are just walking down the street next to each other and when your fingers brush his and you take his hand, his face turns as red as a tomato in an instant.

You would have to be the one to initiate the kiss. Doesn’t matter if it’s the first or one hundred and first. However he will be staring at your lips with a burning wish for a kiss, but he’ll be holding himself back. Itachi-san you’re such a tease. He knows how to restrain himself. On the other hand, he’ll be the one initiating hugs and won’t be the one to pull away first.

Adores cuddling! First half an hour after you wake up, he won’t let you get out of bed until he gets his morning dose of cuddles. Don’t be surprised if you feel like you’re sliding across the bed-that’s him pulling you closer in his sleep. You’re never able to sneak out of bed, he notices a lack of your body warmth immediately. It’s like he has a fucking sensor.

Gets just as embarrassed when saying how much he loves you as when you’re kissing in public. Doesn’t get any better when you’re the one saying it. He’s just plain adorable and his innocent little smile is worth it.

He can get a bit jealous but tries not to show it. If he sees you talking to someone else and he thinks you looked uncomfortable for only a second, he pops out of nowhere in front of you. Depending on his judgement, might even show up with his Sharingan still activated (only for them to see it leaving you in wonder why did they run away so fast) as if the Akatsuki cloak wasn’t frightening enough. Although he’s a calm person, he can be pushed over the edge. He turns violent, merciless and wrathful when his loved ones are threatened. Very protective.

Sasuke

This is a pretty quiet, private guy, meaning he doesn’t really talk to people about you. Low-key relationship. People usually wouldn’t even know you’re dating.

He’s not the kind for PDA. The most you’ll get is hands brushing and forehead tapping. He’s not very intimate overall, though he has his moments. Forehead kisses, a lot. He’s all about little things: a flower every once in a while, tiny gifts.

He’d have a hard time opening up to you, so take baby steps. Blame the trauma. But once he does you’ll know you’re his most important person in the world.

Very overprotective. It’s not that he’s very jealous, but he likes to keep what’s his only his. So if he notices someone walking up to you with a flirting intention, he’d shoosh them away. His death glare and the sole fact that he’s Sasuke fucking Uchiha do a pretty decent job at making your suitor disappearing without a trace.

Not a big fan of cuddles but he’ll grow fond of them over time. No “I love you”s, but he’ll return them to you. Thought he’ll mumble it to his chin, so pay extra attention it you want to hear it. In his opinion, those little things do the job better than words.

Shisui

TOUCHY TOUCHY TOUCHY. Anywhere, anytime. Doesn’t matter if you’re in public or private. Holding hands, hugs, kisses, cuddles, pet names. He adores you and he’s not hiding it.

Will spoil you. If you mention you like something, be prepared to find it in your room the next day. Another day, another flower so your house is filled with your favorites. Will stop once he sees it became impossible to move around maybe.

Jealous, but makes it look like a game. Someone’s bothering you, he shows up, wraps his arm around you. He gives the other person a very playful smirk as he asks you “ Babe is this guy bothering you?” The poor guy tries to apologize and run away but you can’t run away from his teleportation no jutsu.

Is completely honest with you but if he has something bothering him, he won’t share it. He doesn��t want to upset you and he’ll try to find a way to solve it on his own. However, if you notice and ask him about it, he won’t hide anything from you.

Obito

Sorry about the gif, just had to

He’s bragging about you so much that he’s annoying everyone around him. However, when it comes to PDA, he’s a bit flustered. He’s a bit embarrassed around you in general for quite some time after you two get together.

But once he gets more comfortable and used to your presence, he turns into such a sweetheart. Loves to hug you from behind and rest his chin on your shoulder (or head, depends how small you are) and enjoys when you do the same thing. Cups your cheeks with his hands a bit too often.

Prone to jealousy but bottles it up. Will never admit it because he trusts you completely but for some reason he can’t shake it off. Overprotective, not just towards other people. Doesn’t like being away from you because ‘who knows what can happen while he’s away’.

Means a lot to him when you fondle or kiss his scars. He can sometimes get insecure about them and when you show him that you love every part of him just the way they are, he’ll melt. Call him beautiful-he deserves it.

#naruto x reader #naruto imagines #uchiha #madara #itachi #itachi x reader #madara x reader #sasuke #sasuke x reader #shisui #shisui x reader #obito #obito x reader

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 4 years ago

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Hey 👋

How are you?

Could I please request a king Arthur prompt when he first starts courting his partner but originally they cant stand him like they think hes too cocky but he worms his way into their heart 🥰

Pairing: King Arthur x F! Reader

Warnings: 18 + for language, a little angst.

Masterlist

The Queen

“Arthur, you could have any girl in the entire realm at your fingertips; why did you have to choose this one?” Wet Stick sighs, watching from under his cloak and cursing his friend for his taste in women. “He couldn’t just pick one of those nice noble ladies; he had to pick a headstrong girl with a chip on her shoulder,” he grumbles to himself.

You locked up the shop behind you and take off home, turning once to wave into the shadows knowing the knight is there watching. He emerges on a large brown horse, coming to walk beside you. “Good Evening, Sir Tristan; how was your day today?” you smile up at him, and he laughs with a shake of his head.

“How do you always know where I am, my Lady?” You reach into your knapsack and pull out a warm cheese roll wrapped in cloth, handing it up to him. “Thank you, ma’am,” he unwraps it and takes a large bite, moaning at the taste. “Is this why he wants to marry you? Because of how delicious your baking is? Honestly, if the King weren’t enamored with you, I’d probably ask you myself,” he laughs.

You groan, pulling your green cloak above your head. “Sir Tristan, how many times must I ask that you call me by my name? I am no lady, just a baker, no one special.”

“The King would disagree.” You cringe and walk a little faster towards the warmth of your cottage. “He thinks you’re the most beautiful maiden in the entire Kingdom, and Arthur always gets what he wants, and that’s you, my lady.” You stop and glare at him; he holds his hands up in defense using your name.

“Why would I want that cocky, overbearing brute of a man to marry me? He can go to hell for all I care.” Tristan doesn’t take offense like other knights because he knows how overbearing his friend can be. It’d been amusing to see Arthur fall for the beautiful, headstrong woman. Every flower ended up in the trash, letter burnt, and request for an audience denied. Arthur was close to giving up on courting the woman, but something was holding him back.

“Have I ever told you what he was like growing up?” You roll your eyes, already dreading the tale that is sure to highlight only the King’s good points.

“No,” you mumble, “but I’m sure it some heroic tale.” He barks out a laugh, and you stop to watch him, “what’s so funny?”

“What do you know about the King? Honestly, tell me,” he jumps down from the horse and grabs the reins walking beside you. “Because if that’s your opinion, then you don’t know him at all.”

You think about all you know about the King and realize with an ache in your belly that you didn’t know much about the King besides the rumors you’d heard. “Well,” you stumble, “he’s arrogant...uhm, he doesn’t care about anyone but himself...and,” you struggle to come up with something else, much to Tristan’s amusement.

“Arthur was raised in a brothel,” you pause, raising a brow, “I’m telling the truth. When his parents were murdered, he floated down the river in a boat and was found by the prostitutes washing their clothes by the river. They took him in and raised him. He, in turn, grew up and protected them. The brothel was one of the only places in all of Londinium that women were treated with respect. If someone got too handsy with one of the girls, Arthur would beat them within an inch of their life before they’d even think to disrespect a woman like that. Then he’d take all their money and give it to the girl.”

“He’s also really smart, smarter than the lot of us, at least. He had coffers hidden in the wall of the brothel behind a bookshelf. He dreamed of getting out and buying himself a piece of land, building a home. The girls would all be taken care of and wouldn’t have to be prostitutes anymore. He was damn close too before we found out he was the born King.” You mull over his words and keep walking closer towards your home.

“How did he feel about becoming the born King?” you ask quietly.

Tristan smiles, rubbing the snout of his horse affectionately. “He hated it. Didn’t want anything to do with the sword or being King. It wasn’t until he saw his friends being attacked, the Black Legs had us surrounded, outnumbered; there was no way we could win the fight. Arthur begged us to run away, that he was what they wanted, he was ready to die for us. Arthur embraced Excalibur and killed them all, saving us. He’s loyal to a fault that one. Then when Back Lack-” he takes a shuddering breath, and you reach out and rub his arm.

“If it’s too painful, you don’t have to say.” He wipes at his eyes with his cloak and smiles at you.

“No, I won’t let his memory fade because it makes me sad to talk about him. Back Lack was our friend, and Vortigern murdered him in front of his son and Arthur. Blue screamed, and I can still hear his wails in my head; Arthur took his son in and has become like a father to him.” You think of the young boy who follows behind the King and smiles.

You reach the door of your cottage and put your hand on the knob, dropping your head to the door with a sigh. “What does he say about me?” you ask, turning to look at the Knight, “I know he’s must have told you why he is trying so hard to court me.”

Tristan smiles, seeing the small crack in your cleverly crafted armor. “While you may not know the King at all, he knows everything about you. I dare say he’s in love with you.”

You search his eyes for any lie and sigh, opening the door and stepping inside. “Wait here for a moment, please,” he nods, and you close the door behind you. Emerging a few moments later in one of your clean dresses and a light blue cloak of fine fabric the King had gifted you, too delicate for you to throw into the trash. “Take me to him, please,” you ask, pulling the cloak over your head.

“Yes, my lady,” Tristan smiles, mounting his horse and reaching a hand out to pull you up behind him. He rides swift to the looming gates of the palace, and the heavy wooden doors creak as they’re pulled open. The hour is late, and there is only a handful of guards around watching you with a curious expression. You slide off the horse and follow closely behind Tristan as he weaves through the labyrinth of hallways before reaching a large door. He knocks out a combination, and Arthur’s voice comes from inside asking you to enter.

Tristan stands back and gives your hand a squeeze, “good luck. I promise he’s worth it.” You smile, trembling, and give him a return squeeze. You watch his back retreat and take a deep breath before turning the handle.

“Did she get home alright, Stick?” You follow his voice, stepping around the chair and looking down at him. He’s writing a letter, the quill moving across the page, a half-full glass of wine on the table to his left. “She didn’t see you, right? You know how much she detests having a guard.”

“She didn’t make it home okay,” you say quietly, but he jumps anyways, looking up at you with wide eyes. “But she did find her way safely to you, my King.” He rises from his chair and stands tall beside you, gazing into your eyes, and for the first time, you see past the facade of the King he’s created and instead see the man, Arthur.

“Are you well, my darling?” he asks, cupping your cheek; you close your eyes and lean into his touch. His smile is bright enough to rival the sun, and you smile back at him just as brightly.

“I learned about you tonight, my King,” he furrows his brow, “Sir Tristan was telling me tales of how you became King.”

He grins, “And what did he tell you?” He pulls away, pouring a second glass of wine and handing it to you. He takes your hand and leads you over to the roaring fire, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of it. You take a sip of the wine and put down the glass, climbing into his lap and putting your head against his shoulder. His hand comes up to wrap around your waist, keeping you snug to his side, putting down his glass of wine, and putting the other hand in your lap.

You roll his fingers between your hands, feeling the callouses from years of fighting coarse against your skin. He leans his head against your own, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek. “He told me about you growing up in the brothel, how you protected those women, and their honor. He told me how you begged them to leave when the Black Legs came, and only when your friend’s lives were threatened did you finally wield Excalibur.”

You sit up and look him deep in the pools of blue that are his eyes, lowering your voice to almost a whisper. “He also told me about Back Lack and Blue. How you’ve become like a father to him,” you trail off, looking down at his hand in your own, “he said you love me.” You look up and catch the storm in his expression, the showers of tears that threaten to fall as he’s reminded of his lost friend.

You cup his cheek and brush your fingers beneath his eye collected them like diamonds. “He died because of me because I wasn’t able to protect him.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you whisper. He takes a shuddery breath, and you hold on to him with both hands, keeping his eyes on you. “You did the best you could; you are raising his son. He wouldn’t blame you for what happened.”

He tugs you closer, and your foreheads touch, “he would have liked you,” he gives a watery chuckle. “He’d have loved your baking, the way you stand up for yourself, and call me out on my bullshit.” You laugh, and he leans closer, “Tristan was right.”

“About what?” the ghost of his lips brushes yours, and you gasp at the touch.

“I love you,” you pull back a little, “I love how strong you are, loyal, fierce, and fucking stunning. You are everything I could ever ask for, and I know I came on too strong. I pushed you away when all I wanted was to hold you close like this. From the moment I saw you, spoke to you, the moment you chucked a rolling pin at my head, I knew.”

You cringe at one of the more colorful visits you had with the King. “What? What did you know?”

“That you are much more than a baker.” He nuzzles his nose against your own, and you give a breathless reply, begging him to tell you what you are. His lips touch yours slowly, just barely touching, and your eyes slide closed, moving closer to him when he whispers, “you’re my Queen.”

Taglist: @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @ghostwiththemostbitch @the-purity-pen @paintballkid711 @wasicskosgirl @fantasticcopeaglepasta @sarahjkl82-blog @boxdyeblonde @rosiefridayrogersunday @yeah-seems-legit @mimimi-stuff @ladyblogger-margie @memyselfandellasworld @peterhollandkait @itspdameronthings @emmy626 @luv-nd-serenity @randomness501 @littlebopper96 @alexmarie29 @hell-is-my-second-home666 @thisshipwillsail316 @madslorian @no-droids-on-sunday @glixxr @sfr99 @pedro-pastel @we-can-be-himbos @sleep-tight1 @sarhabee @its--fandom--darling @im-an-adult-ish @princess76179 @demoncrypt1066@lunarthoughts @jedi-mando @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @rebelliouscat @veracruz-djarin @marvelprincess1994 @thirstworldproblemss @spacelatinoss @martellthemandalor @kesskirata @waatermelon-sugaar @jitterbugs927 @helga1031 @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell

#King Arthur #King Arthur x Reader #Female Reader #King Arthur Legend of the Sword #Charlie Hunnam #Charlie Hunnam Character Fanfiction

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conaionaru · 4 years ago

Text

The Drowned girl

No fear

Synopsis: Siggy leaves Kattegat for the first time, setting out on a journey of a lifetime. But of course danger follows as well

Warnings: violence, shit parenting (Bjorn), child abandonment, language, canon divergence

Tags:

@pieces-by-me

I don’t own the gifs.

Siggy stood at the side of the ship, holding onto a rope for stability. The wind ruffled her neatly braided hair and her new cloak. Floki stood proudly at the head of the boat, watching all his ships sail to Kattegat's docks so everyone else can come aboard as well.

Never before did she feel so light; all those times she leaped off high places was nothing compared to this. She felt like soaring in the sky, leaving behind Kattegat and all its shadows.

The people on the docks looked so small from up here, just spots that would soon be left behind. With a grin, she ran past the other sailors and Floki. "Siggy!" Warned Helga while the girl sprinted up the dragon's head and jumped onto the docks, giggling like a madwoman.

The docks were packed with people saying goodbye to their families. She could see Bjorn and his family, as well. How she loathed them all, looking happy and like a proper family. Someone nudged her shoulder.

Floki wiggled his eyebrows at her and jerked his head towards the Ragnarssons and Aslaug. "Say goodbye to Sigurd. We will not wait for you forever." Siggy rolled her eyes at him and skipped over to Sigurd.

The snake-eyed prince grinned at her and waited for her to reach him finally. "Don't die stupidly." He whispered into her ear in the middle of their tight hug. Siggy nodded against his neck and gripped his tunic tighter.

"You won't survive a day without me, Uncle Sigurd." He hit her over the head and glared at the title he hated so much.

"Go. The sight of you disgusts me."

"At least I don't look like a flock of raven's attacked my hair."

Sigurd touched his hair and glared at her remark. His hair was a touchy subject for him. Truth be told, it wouldn't be so touchy if he used a comb once in a while. But Siggy hates that torture device as well, so she won't judge too much.

"Be safe, Little Sig."

"You too, Sig."

She turned on her head and walked back to the boat, shouldering past Bjorn, who watched her with dark eyes. He always observed her, especially when she was happy. It seemed to offend him to some extent. But that was his problem.

Siggy watched the world pass by, the gentle breeze like a lover's touch against her face - adventures first caress. "Off to Rome, we go." Helga chuckled at her side and ruffled her hair affectionately, joining Floki and Bjorn at the brow. Hvitserk threw an apple at her head, snickering when it hit her in the ear.

"And here I thought I could suffer you for longer," Siggy complained and stormed after him, twirling around the mast and people as Bjorn barked at them to calm down. He must be regretting taking them with him.

The blonde run-up to the mast and climbed up using a rope as support. Taking a deep breath, Siggy closer her eyes, and enjoyed the more windy place. She could hear Helga warning her to be careful and Floki giggling as she stood on top of the sail.

Slowly she opened her eyes and grinned at the beautiful sight before her. The clear water with loads of boats on it seemed like the perfect place to be. She was meant to be here all along. Sailing the world and proving to the gods that she deserved to live. "Try to strike me down now..."

For all the love for traveling, Siggy felt, sailing there just took too long. Frankia was just within reach, and she had no desire to see Rollo. Floki talked of him sometimes - the traitor to his kind. What good would the man be? Raiding the towns and murdering those who attacked would be easier than striking a deal.

"Are you going to try and contact uncle Rollo?"

The silence that followed Hvitserk question sent shivers down Siggy's spine. Bjorn made his decision long ago, and no matter how everyone disapproved, he won't change it.

The Frankish boats met them head-on, warning bells tolling in Paris to announce their coming. When they docked, Bjorn chose men to go with him to meet with Rollo. To her great annoyance, Siggy was left behind because she can't "behave," whatever that's supposed to mean.

"If we get attacked, we will need all the fighters we can," Helga whispered to her, trying to brighten up her mood.

"And if they attack the envoys? What then?" Siggy seethed, watching the enemy soldiers lead everyone to the palace.

"Then Floki will fight his way out. You have not seen them fight. They will be alright." The young volva sighed and walked to the boat, and take out her arrows to sharpen them. It was a lie; Siggy had seen Floki fight. And Bjorn too.

Whenever Bjorn came over to visit Floki and Helga, Siggy sneaked off to spend some time alone. But the sun was already setting, and she felt lonely. Sigurd was sick, so he was home with Aslaug and Ivar. Floki was busy with the plans for the boats.

She wanted to train to become a great shieldmaiden. If she was meant to travel the world, as Floki said, she had to become the best fighter out there. Not cook or collect herbs with Helga.

Her destiny was laid out on the water and foreign lands, not in the forests of Kattegat. But at least the knowledge of herbs was useful for something. Making a sacrifice to the gods, for instance.

With a small skinny knife, she cut off bark from an oak and brought it to her little pyre made of twigs and dry grass. She lit the fire using two stones and blew into the flames, hoping the fire would grow.

When the flame was big enough, she stopped blowing and stepped back, looking at her gathered ingredients. "Oak for strength, Edelwise for courage, Sage for wisdom, and Dill to protect me from evil." One by one, she threw the items in.

The fire would bring the offerings to the gods, and they would protect her from now on. They have been cruel to her until now - abandoning her just like her parents, nearly letting her die. All because she was never acknowledged by her father - a bastard in everyone's eyes.

But that would change the moment she became famous; she would be like Ragnar. Then no one could call her a freak, failure, or insult her. They would all cheer for her, praise her and talk stories of her to their children. She wouldn't be Crazy Siggy or Siggy the Drowned girl. Instead, she could be Siggy the Great or Siggy Mighty.

The gods would accept her sacrifice and protect her from then on. She was a descendant of Odin, just like Ragnar. The gods should be on her side as well; she was a Völva and never turned her back on them! With a swift cut, Siggy cut open her palm and dripped the blood onto the fire.

"Hail All-father, Wise Warrior,

One-eyed wanderer, Come sit at my fire.

Tell me of your wisdom stories,

The scenes your missing eye sees. You who chooses the slain,

Look on my deeds and when my time comes

To run the sky with you,

Let my end be worthy of song.

In the meantime, let me feel

Excitement and poetry and fury and joy,

Let me understand sacrifice,

Think long, Remember well, And Journey Far.

Odin, Witness this."

The fire sizzled as Siggy watched it burn to the last amber, ignoring the world around her. She could feel herself grow lightheaded, and her ears grow deaf as she slowly faded. Her now milky white eyes watched the fire turn to ashes.

The scenery changed to a great ship out on the water, all alone as the water seemed to boil around it. Steam concealed everything around the vessel as thunder boomed above. On the boat stood a man made of light bound with chains sailing towards his doom.

Laughter broke her away from her vision as hands tugged at her neckline. Siggy startled and tried to break away from the dirty hands; three men stood around her. The one that was pulling on her tunic grinned, showing his rotten black teeth to her.

Siggy did her best to wretch away from him or stab him with the blade, but another man stepped on her hand. A crunch and a stab of pain made her cry out and pull her hand with two broken fingers to herself. The last one laughed at her panic and hit her own over her head to make her stop resisting.

When they were about to rip her tunic off an axe, hit him in the back of his head. Siggy shrieked in fright, and as he fell on top of her, blood seeping from his mortal wound. The two remaining men drew their weapons but were cut down as easily as their friend.

To her surprise, Bjorn beheaded the last man as Floki pulled the corpse off her. She shook on her spot and looked at the frantic man with tearful eyes. "What were you thinking wandering so far away? We told you there were berserkers in the woods."

She choked on her words and clung to him, rocking from side to side. He wiped the blood from her face with his thumbs, shushing her crying. Bjorn glared at her and stomped in front of her.

"Are you completely stupid?! Do you have any idea what they could have done to you? Your stupid fire attracted them here!"

"Quiet, Bjorn!" Floki snapped and made Siggy look at him.

Tears streamed down her face, her lips trembling in the aftershock. She leaned closer and whispered so the Ragnarsson wouldn't hear. "I made a sacrifice to the gods. I just wanted them to help me. So I could be a great traveler like you said I would."

Floki tutted at her and pulled her closer, hiding her face in his chest. Bjorn fumed behind them and gathered the men's weapons so no one else would find them. "I had a vision. I am sorry."

The boatbuilder pulled her back and shook her head slightly to make her pay attention. "There is nothing wrong with your visions. They are gifts from the gods, no matter how heavy of a burden they might seem. But never wander off so far without telling us. Do you hear me, Siggy?"

She nodded and let him pick her up like she was weightless. For such a skinny twig, Floki was strong from all the heavy work. She rested her chin on his shoulder, watching the dead bodies on the grass. Never before did she see someone fight like Bjorn. His fighting style was nothing like Floki's. It disgusted her how it intrigued her - how much she wanted to fight like him.

Siggy was growing antsy. The envoys have been gone for too long for her liking. So when she could hear footsteps from her spot on a tree, she notched her arrow and waited for the intruder to arrive. "Don't even try it, Little Menace."

She jumped from the tree and landed in front of Floki, grinning. Her eyes drifted to the tall stranger that joined them. He looked ridiculous in his orange tunic. "Who is the princeling?"

"My name is Rollo, Duke of Normandy."

Siggy looked at Floki with her head tilted to the side in confusion. "He is joining us. Now be quiet." Bjorn commanded and walked past her, not sparing her a glance.

"I hope the traitor slits your throat first!" She spun around and hit her chest with her fist, glaring at his retreating back. Helga took her by the shoulders and asked her how she has been, complimenting the yellow tunic that she changed into.

Of course, Helga didn't need to know that she only had to change because her old tunic was covered in mud from faceplanting into it. No one had to know that, in fact.

When the boats set sail again, Siggy watched the brother of Ragnar with wary eyes. He looked laughable in his clothes. So when Bjorn gave an order to drown him, she actually giggled in glee.

They pulled in the oars and tied up his hands and feet. Everyone watched as he was thrown in. Siggy enjoyed the view from the ship's head, Floki right under her. They pulled at both sides of the rope, trapping him under the boat, and halted at Bjorn's signal.

Siggy felt giddy at the thought of death so near her, even if there was not gonna be any blood. She will take what she gets and enjoy it too.

"Pull him up!"

Damn it, Bjorn! Siggy groaned and pouted at the boatbuilder, who looked as let down as her. When they pulled the traitor back up, he laid still before retching up the water that entered his lungs. Siggy pouted harder and jumped over his body as Bjorn gave the order to row. She could hear Rollo laughing but paid him no mind. Using Hvitserk's shoulder as support, she climbed back up the mast and watched the sixty ships sail away from the castle.

They dressed him in leather as if he didn't cause the deaths of many Vikings and betray his own blood. When it was time to eat, Siggy climbed from her seat and sat down next to Helga and Floki. She watched his back as he stood next to Bjorn. She didn't know who she hated more. Floki always spoke of Rollo as scum that deserved to die. And she saw Bjorn the same way.

Maybe it was a blood thing? Rollow betrayed Ragnar and the Vikings, Ragnar betrayed the Vikings, and Bjorn betrayed her. Hopefully, Aslaug gave the other Ragnarssons some sense.

Passing by Hvitserk munching on an apple, she jumped on the edge of the boat and balanced over it. "Be careful. You don't know how to swim."

Rollo turned around and watched her dance on top of the wooden edge, dipping her toes in happily. "You don't know how to swim?"

"And you don't know how to be loyal. We all have our faults, Rollo." The man chuckled and observed her. She was a mystery to him; by her age, she couldn't be Floki's and Helga's daughter. Angrboða died as a child, and this one was too old to have been born after her. And the way she beat her chest when angry seemed so familiar to him.

She nearly tipped over into the water but steadied herself and strode on fearlessly. "It would be fun if I drowned. Like the original Siggy."

The blood in his veins grew cold at that. He hadn't heard the name; the last time he did, Bjorn's daughter was born. This annoying little madwoman couldn't be Bjorn's Siggy.

The blonde teenager twirled around on her toes and gripped a rope in her hands. She wrapped it around her throat and gasped mockingly. "Or maybe I could hang myself instead. Be original and spice it up."

"Stop fooling around!" Bjorn's voice boomed from behind them, and Siggy's features darkened. Now that she was angry, they looked so much alike. "For once in your life, be responsible and act your age!"

Jumping off the edge, she glared at him, fists clenched tightly by her sides. Helga ran to her and tried to calm down, but it was to no vain. When she spoke, her voice was icy and colder than the first frost in Kattegat used to be. "I am acting my age, your Highness. I am fifteen, as you would know if you cared enough. I always wondered why my mother left."

Bjorn pushed his shoulders back to scare her into shutting up. But it didn't work one bit; all it did was make her talk louder for all to hear. "Maybe I was an ugly baby or cried too much. But I am sure the problem wasn't me. I mean... How could she ever suffer to be near you? You are angry, unloyal, neglectful, and stupid. No wonder she left! I would have done the same!"

"That is enough! You will treat me with respect!"

"I will do no such thing, you fucking oaf!"

"You little-"

Floki cut in between them and smiled uneasily. "Don't do something you might regret, Bjorn. Friend or not, you will not touch Siggy." It always amazed Rollo how menacing someone as skinny as Floki can look. It must be the wild look in his eyes and the deranged mind.

With a huff, Bjorn turned away and stalked towards the head of the ship, his back turned to the still fuming blonde. Siggy stood there glaring at him; face stuck between anger and sadness. Everyone stared at her as Helga tried to calm her down, but nothing helped.

That is until Floki turned to her and cupped her cheek, patting her on it while tutting at her. "You will scare off all the men like this. How are we ever meant to get rid of you then, huh? And here I was hoping to get a castle for you."

Siggy turned her brooding blue eyes at his, shining the say way Ragnar's used to do. "Floki!" She scoffed and hit him over the side of the head, feigning to be insulted. "What man would be stupid enough to want me?"

"There are lots of deranged men out there." Floki joked, giggling.

"Speaking from experience, are you, Old man?"

The boatbuilder snickered again and took her by the shoulders, leading her back to their sleeping place. "Who are you calling old, huh? I am younger than I have ever been."

"Keep telling yourself that."

Hvitserk came to her later, eating like always. He ate from her share of food while she repainted the markings on her face. She had taken up to the art after she wanted to impress Floki. A child really, probably twelve or so. Back then, it looked bad, but with some practice, she got better. Now she can do it, still half asleep with her eyes closed.

"Didn't think you were a flower kind of girl." Glaring at him, she tried to grasp what he meant but then sighed. In her lap laid the flower Sigurd gave her as a parting gift.

"Bay flower means glory. It was a wish for me to wet my blade with blood and gain the people's respect."

"Aaah, so it's from Sigurd."

"No, Hvitserk. It's from your latest conquest. She cried when she gave it to me. Said I was far better than you ever were."

Hvitserk chuckled and leaned closer to her. "Why? Is your cock bigger than mine?"

"As long and thick as the mast behind you." She teased back, smirking, putting away her paint to steal back her food from him. He laughed at her boldness, patting her on the head as one might do to a dog.

Hvitserk left her to sit by Bjorn and Rollo, who tried to make sense of where they were. So Siggy made her way to her parents, who were having an argument.

"No, Helga."

"Yes. I need something more from this life."

"But not a child. Don't you remember?"

"Of course, I remember. How would I not remember?"

"There won't be a "this time." I have set my face against it. I do not want another child. Siggy is enough."

Floki stalked off, and Siggy watched Helga sob with sad eyes. It tore at her heart to see her sad. "Are you alright, Helga?"

The woman looked at her and sniffled before opening her blanket and waving her to herself. Siggy settled against her chest, her head tucked under her chin. "I am sorry."

"'Tis, alright. I have you. My pretty little warrior." The blonde gave a timid smile and hugged her mother closer. If her presence could give her some solace, Siggy would gladly look like a child in need of its mother to the other warriors. If anyone voiced it, well, they would die, of course.

#vikings #history vikings #vikings imagine #Siggy Bjornsdottir #Siggy #sigurd ragnarsson #sigurd snake in the eye #Sigurd #floki #helga

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reshirement · 4 years ago

Note

Sending one right back at you :) for the OTP questions, for bagginshield, 1, 6, 12, 27, and if you’re up for it 29 & 30! (no pressure of course I know it’s a lot)

hey, no worries @sunnibits! i love these! i used to have a friend where i’d post question lists that were sometimes a mile long, and she’d come into my inbox like ‘ALL OF THEM HAHAH’ so i’d have to spend two days writing an essay. 😂 not to say i didn’t do exactly the same thing 👀 but in any case thank you for the questions!

1. Who is the most affectionate?

This is a tough one because I think they’re both very affectionate, if in different ways. Physically affectionate, Thorin is going to top out on this one. If he wants to hold Bilbo (and Bilbo doesn’t seem to be in any kind of mood to stop him in a serious manner) he’s going to hold Bilbo or take his hand, give him a kiss, wrap him in his cloak and rest his chin on top of his head, that sort of thing so there’s absolutely no mistaking how he feels.

Bilbo, on the other hand, while he enjoys that sort of affection very much, I think would show it more in other ways. Rearranging meetings or taking on additional projects in Erebor when he thinks Thorin has too much on his plate, making sure Thorin eats more than once a day and eats well by cooking for him (honestly he will feed this dwarf hobbit style if he can get away with it, food is important), having a warm hearth, hot bath and a filled pipe ready for Thorin when he returns for the day from wherever he’s been, little daily things beyond the physical that absolutely radiate love and care.

6. What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

Hm. If you asked him, I think Bilbo would mention Thorin’s blue-grey eyes, the strength of his arms, the silver-threaded fall of Thorin’s hair. Things you can wax lyrical about in a sonnet or a story, things that make sense to share in conversation. But really, his favorite bits of the dwarf are probably more intimate, personal details, like the curve of his ear, visible on the rare occasions Thorin puts his hair back in a loose tie, the slight curl of the smile hidden just under his beard when he’s teasing. The roughness of his hands, the paler, almost dainty skin of his feet always hidden by heavy boots (once he stops chuckling about them, anyhow). Pieces of Thorin that feel like they’re just Bilbo’s, those are his favorites.

As for Thorin, I think he mostly appreciates Bilbo’s softness both in face and body (something the dwarf has not had much of in his life, and indulges in with Bilbo), watching the laugh lines develop around his eyes and mouth, the smirk Bilbo gives him when the hobbit feels he’s done something exceptionally clever, or when they share a private joke.

I also think he probably also has a fascination with Bilbo’s ears, but never brings it up because that’s just asking for a teasing volley about their pointed similarity to the ears of elves (which Thorin would vehemently disagree with both on principle and because honestly they look absolutely nothing alike, he’s spent a lot of time considering this, you see).

12. Who initiates kisses?

Depends on which part you’d consider ‘initiating.’ Thorin, for sure, is the one to swoop in for a peck on the cheek, a full snog or anything in between whenever the whim strikes him, but Bilbo is what I like to call a kiss angler. He’s the one who is going to make eye contact and tilt his head just so, or lean in just a bit too close over Thorin’s shoulder to see what he’s working on, probably with an additional, unnecessary hand on the shoulder that will tilt their faces that much closer.

This tactic is often subtle, and is meant to draw the dwarf in without technically shifting his focus from anything else, and honestly is such a common occurrence that the movement won’t even register with Thorin before he complies and Bilbo gets his kiss (not that he would mind in the slightest!)

27. Who would sing to their child back to sleep?

Both of them. Thorin has nephews he raised, so I’m sure that move would be old-hat to him, and as a lighter sleeper, it would probably be him most often rising in the night to see about a child’s distress.

I think Thorin would absolutely sing to soothe a child as a go-to method, crooning a lullaby or two, and while I’m certain Bilbo would sing as well if a child wanted him to, he’d probably have to be asked first. After all, Bilbo’s a story-teller, and more likely to offer a tale over a song to calm and distract a little one from fears in the night.

29. One headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart.

I think Frodo is right, Bilbo knew the value of the mithril quite well, but I don’t believe he knew at first when it was given to him, or had any inkling of it’s value, other than as a gift from someone he loved (whether he realized it yet or not) that he was profoundly worried about given the dragonsickness and the armies at the time.

But eventually, Bilbo found out. Whether from a dwarf friend visiting him in his home, or an old history book he was perusing years down the line, eVENTUALLY Bilbo learned what the mithril was, how incredibly valuable, how profoundly irreplaceable, and Thorin had handed it over freely with his heartfelt ‘It is a gift’ to Bilbo whilst in the throes of dragonsickness where he trusted not even his own kin.

Now as I said, years down the line, Bilbo’s at home, he’s coping, he’s living. He’s pushed it down in the traditional hobbit style of ‘I’m going to keep everything right here and then one day I’ll die.’ (considering the people he lived with in the Shire, there wasn’t exactly another option for him.) He’d loved Thorin then, and still does, but it’s a painful, perhaps romanticized tragedy, one that exists solely in the writers’ mind. Perhaps other than a double-handful of small moments, there was no real tangible proof that Thorin felt as he did, and it would be easy to convince himself over the years that whatever connection they appeared to have was perhaps a one-sided one. That they were dear friends, nothing more. After all, it’s easier to grieve a personal loss if it’s confined to the tragedy, and not the shape your future might have taken.

But the mithril, once the gravity of that gesture truly sinks in, what it meant, what it means. I can imagine that unlocking some terrible floodgates, and all of a sudden the battle was only yesterday and he’s grieving because Thorin loved him too, and he’s angry, furious. Angry at Thorin, angry at the both of them for not saying anything sooner, angry at himself, the dragon, the armies, the sickness.

Angry at what he lost, what they all lost, and I can’t imagine him being anything but horrendously overwhelmed, and feeling heartbrokenly alone. I think the mithril shirt would in that very moment go from a nostalgic comfort to a terrible burden, and I believe the night that Bilbo discovered the true worth of the mithril was the same night it ended up in the mathom-house.

30. One headcanon about this OTP that mends it.

Now that that godawful headcanon is out of the way, how about this one for the book!verse? After the Battle of the Five Armies, Erebor held too many ghosts. Thorin did not fall, (though perhaps he meant to fall, what with the leaving behind of the armor before making that suicidal charge) and abdicating was not only the best option considering his actions under the goldsickness and how that might impact Erebor and future treaties with neighboring kingdoms, but also he fact that he’s lived his whole life for his people, he has succeeded in securing their ancestral home, and maybe carving his own path is now a desired option. He’s free.

Fili and Kili also live, but don’t want the throne. They’ve been raised in the Blue Mountains, and they love their uncle, love Erebor because of Thorin, and without him there, they’re not super interested in entering the line of succession, so Bilbo and Thorin travel to the Shire because Bilbo is adamant that it would be good for him, and Fili and Kili follow. It is closer to their mother, after all, to visit back and forth.

And perhaps the book Bilbo writes is helpful to them staying on the down-low. Everyone important in their life is sure to know the truth, so what if these three unnamed dwarves are the other hidden residents of Bag End (or perhaps, just one hidden resident and two visiting nephews), kept safe from discovery from friends and family both, and Bilbo and Thorin, somehow, had their happy ending?

tl;dr: THE LINE OF DURIN IS FINE, EVERYONE IS FINE.

#asks #otp questions #sunnibits #sorry i wanted to make sure i could sit down and answer in full <3 #thank you for the questions!!#that last one I guess isn’t technically an headcanon as much as wishful thinking but ah well

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stxrmapper · 3 years ago

Text

Senses & Other Oddly Specific Headcanons.

Sika

1. What does your muse smell like? Often, Sika has floral, earthy kind of scent, due to his exploration, however despite the fact that he is not a Solar wielder, he sometimes has a small lingering scent of smoke because of Ari, usually after the two have been sparring together.

2. What do your muse’s hand feel like? Even though he’s an Exo, parts of his hands are lined with a soft mesh that’s relatively undamaged (good for gripping things too though): mainly his palms and the fronts of his fingers, but there are also still some metal parts. They seem to be designed in a way that would make sure the metal shouldn’t catch anything or manage to hurt anyone without deliberacy.

3. What does your muse usually eat in a day? Sika is incredibly bad for forgetting to eat. It’s never really been a huge issue for him unlike some other Exos, since it’s never really bothered him. Any senses of false hunger triggered by his mind don’t really occur unless someone actually brings it up. He’s not an incredibly picky eater when he does eat though, so he’ll take whatever if someone reminds him.

4. Does your muse have a good singing voice? Not many people know, but Sika has a pretty good voice when it comes to singing. He likes to sing to himself, but not often in front of others.

5. Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks? When nervous, he tends to pace if there’s space to do so. When there isn’t, Sika drums his fingers in whatever rhythms come to mind, sometimes humming to himself as well. Sometimes he can’t handle people talking to him when he’s nervous or just when his mind is racing, unless all else is calm, which can cause him to just shut down. Best to either leave him, or sit with him and not talk if that happens.

6. What does your muse usually look like/wear? Sika usually just sticks to his armour, which still varies as he’s trying to find what he likes best. He does like the Celestial Nighthawk helmet, even if that’s usually associated with golden gun. Otherwise, he tends to wear pretty casual and loose clothing. He loves hoodies (and has on occasion worn Scout’s or even Atlas’ hoodies because he loves ones that are a bit too large ‘cause they’re warm (not that the two in question care too much)). Maybe it’s the typical Hunter need to have a hood still in the absence of the cloak.

7. Is your muse affectionate? How much? How so? With those he feels comfortable around, Sika is incredibly affectionate. He’s not always the most verbal about it, usually preferring gestures like giving small gifts he feels that someone may appreciate, or with physical contact. One of the best ways for him to show affection is to just kind of exist near someone: that way he knows he’s not being obtrusive or getting in their way, he’s not distracting them, but he still gets to spend time with them and either watch whatever they’re doing or do his own thing in the meantime. With people he doesn’t know as well, he tends to be a little more reserved, and won’t usually be the one to make the first step with anything, so it can seem as if he’s not that affectionate then, even if that’s not the case at all.

8. What position does your muse sleep in? Sika usually likes to sleep on his side, preferably with his back to something like a wall if he can. He probably - just like eating - doesn’t sleep as much as he should, but when he does try it’s not that hard for him to do so.

9. Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room? Absolutely not. This man steps as lightly as a little mouse, despite being an Exo. There’s been a few occasions where he’s accidentally snuck up on and scared fireteam members because of how quiet he was.

Tagged by: @awoken-lights [Thank you!! I liked these random questions a lot haha]

Tagging: @lexi-moment @atheons-a-fat-neek [Ik you guys aren’t super ready yet and you’ve just started figuring Tumblr out and haven’t set stuff up but. I wanted to include you if you’d like to talk abt Luna or Ella (or any new chars :3 up to you)]

#oc: sika #ooc #ask answered #thank you for tagging me!!#might answer for others at some point #but sika was the first who came to mind #and i love me some sika content so

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clair-void-ance · 4 years ago

Text

Time After Time

Pairing: Greylock the Grand x Childhood friend! Reader

Word Count: Roughly 1,586 words

Warnings: Mental health mention and lots of yearning

Notes: I do not own the gif or the characters; they belong to their rightful owners! The story is all mine though ☺💖💝 Feedback is always appreciated and requests for stories on certain characters are always welcome!

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To say that you and Greylock made an entrance at the ceremony was an understatement. You were dressed in the most radiant blue gown you could afford with your castle paycheck while Greylock had worn a finely-fit black tux under his usual cloak. Like two peas in a pod, you gracefully made your way to an empty seat in the semi-crowded ballroom.

Additionally, unlike the ‘holier-than-thou’ strut that he usually carried himself with, Greylock switched it in favor of clutching onto you and walking as if he was on cloud nine. Which he felt he was currently on.

This, of course, immediately got the attention of his would-be rival Cedric, who let out an exasperated sigh at the sight of you two together. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust you or your judgement, but he most definitely did not trust the man latched to your side. Especially since the woman Greylock chose to get involved with was his sister.

He never fully understood why you both gravitated towards each other, but, if he made you happy, then who was he to stop your seemingly harmless relationship.

What baffled Cedric at that moment though, was how he had gotten you to agree to join him at this year's ball. You two hadn’t kept in touch that much over the last couple of years given his transfer to Magnus’ kingdom, so the fact you both were still on decent standing confused him. But he wouldn’t deny that he was relieved you were finally getting what you had been wanting for the last couple of years. Especially since he had to hear an earful of it every day you two were apart.

--------------Earlier That Evening--------------

Wandering around the seemingly endless corridors of the Enchancia castle, Greylock was dying to find an excuse to leave or let loose at the ball him and most of his colleagues were cordially invited to. Not that he didn’t appreciate the food and view though. Enchanica had a certain type of charm that left people wanting more, and Greylock definitely desired more. More company that is.

And when he caught a glance of a stunning woman, he finally thought he had a chance of getting what he so desperately wanted.

When Greylock caught his first glance at you though, he couldn't catch the breath that escaped his lungs quick enough.

You were the most gorgeous creature he had ever laid his eyes on and, in a sense of silent fleeting hope, he dreamed that you could be the one to ease his distress at the function he was forced to attend by his dear king Magnus. Staring at you for at least five minutes straight, Greylock was shaken out of his thoughts when he realized he should probably get a move on if he wanted to avoid someone else snatching your attention. Especially since the woman was someone that he knew quite well.

Gripping the top of his pointed, purple hat, he slowly lowered it to be gripped by his left palm.

Circling the brim with both hands, be walked at an excruciatingly slow pace towards you and went to grip your hand.

".....(y/n)?..Is it really you?"

To that, you only shook your head and let out a soft and quiet laugh as you turned to fully face you.

"I’m surprised it took you so long to figure it out, Lock. You’re usually so quick to pick up details, and I was getting tired of you staring at me from so far away,” you said teasingly.

Greylock’s face was brought back to his usual face spanning smile, but the usual arrogant gleam in his eyes was replaced with a loving tint.

“It’s so good to see you (y/n). I’ve missed you so much; I’ve tried to keep in touch- I swear! King Magnus’ rule just kept me too tied up. But nothing pleases me more than seeing your radiant face once more.”

His eyes dropped into one of pure fondness as he leaned down to finish kissing the top of your hand. Looking up, he noticed the bashful look on your face as you ducked your head and gripped his hand tighter for a few seconds longer. When the seconds finished, you reluctantly pulled your palms towards your abdomen.

"A touching compliment from one so handsome, my dear ol’ friend. Would you care to accompany me to the dining hall? I hear they're serving the finest dish tonight and I’d be delighted to share mine with you.”

When you both started making your way to the ballroom Greylock was met with the sudden realization of why he missed you so much. You had always offered him solace and a way to let loose without fear of ridicule or jealousy. It shocked him that you could be the twin sister of this sworn rival. Although you both were very much alike, you were both so starkly different. Particularly when it came to opinions on him. Regardless of that though, he appreciated everything you helped him through and yearned to start a future with you. One where you were more than friends. One where you were both lovers. That’s why following you like a lovesick puppy came so naturally to him. Even if he did it in front of a crowd of royalty and royal subjects,

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

Over the span of the night, you and Greylock had catched up on the time he had missed out on (as well as the time you missed out on), ate a lovely dinner together, squabbled chatted with your brother, and joked around with a few of your old friends. When both of you guys’ favorite song began to reverberate through the echoing ballroom, both of you couldn’t deny the desire to get caught up in each other's arms.

“May I have this dance my dear?,” he asked, offering you his right arm.

Repressing a face-splitting grin, you quipped back a, “Do you even have to ask?”

Time after time

I tell myself that I'm

So lucky to be loving you

Pulling each other together while you rested your head on his upper chest, Greylock started to sway you both left to right in a rhythmic motion. And although you both shared each other's feelings, neither of you wanted to voice them. The fear of ruining the moment weighted too heavy over both of your heads.

So lucky to be

The one you run to see

In the evening, when the day is through

In a similar turn of events, you began to think back on all of the childhood memories you had shared together and how, when the stress of living up to your father began to harm your mental health, Greylock was always there to reassure and offer you comfort. This led to a string of thoughts related to the traits you favored in him. You adored the softness of his hair, the drawl of his voice, the airiness of his laugh, the way he made you laugh and entertained people, and the playfulness of his attitude. What you loved the most though, was the way he made you feel loved.

I only know what I know

The passing years will show

You've kept my love so young, so new

While finishing your stream of thoughts, Greylock pushed you back just enough to see your eyes and hesitantly opened his mouth. Shifting his eyes, he started to sweat; as though he was regretting initiating this particular conversation.

"Darling... what...would you say your plans are for the future?"

This question frightened you a tad, but the romantic atmosphere in the air had gifted you enough confidence to share a small aspect of your real feelings.

"Well.. I suppose advance in my career and...perhaps be in your life more. You've been gone so long, and I've just realized how terribly I miss you."

With a fastened heartbeat and hopefully teasing tone, Greylock quipped back saying:

"Trying to charm me are you? Well, I'd say that you've succeeded my dear."

He arched his left eyebrow and offered you a playful smirk, adding quickly:

"I knew it was just a matter of time before you fell into my dashing arms."

You swatted his arm playfully and then dragged you hand down it until it reached his elbow. Gazing tenderly up at him, you gave a shy smile and clutched his arm in an affectionate manner.

"Would that be so bad? Falling into your arms? Or perhaps,...falling in love with you?"

Those sixteen words were all Greylock needed to hear to have his heart slamming erratically in his chest and his pointed ears burn a shocking shade of red.

He had yearned for you to admit those feelings for the longest time and could feel his childhood sense of glee rise in his throat as he knew that his feelings were being reciprocated.

Stopping you both from dancing, he gripped both of yours arms in his palms and leaned his forehead slowly down onto yours.

"Love, I wouldn't have it any other way. After all, if this is what makes life so divine, then the key to heaven is mine. If you would accept, I'd love to have the chance to...perhaps...court you?"

And with one swift swoop upwards, you pressed your lips together and melded them in fluid motion.

"My love, I wouldn't have it any other way either."

And time after time

You'll hear me say that I'm

So lucky to be loving you

#sofia the fandom #sofia the first #greylock the grand #greylock the grand x reader #cedric the sensational #cedric the sorcerer #greylock #sofia the first imagine #sofia the first x reader #time after time #chet baker #x reader #fluff #lovecore #this honestly started as one story and then I got side tracked and now have another version of this sitting in a google doc #lmao #may post it soon though

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mythandlaur · 4 years ago

Note

Burai here on anon, rip Side-blog personal blog. Anywhoo-- The Will of the Swarm, Children of the Archives, Light Unseen, and are ya winning the tournament son. If you don't mind.

The WIP Tag Game

@buraidragon You should know these--you were involved in at least two of them.

Lots of text under the cut!

The Will of the Swarm (working title only) - Spiral Knights - 2018

A collaborative project with friends Burai and apprenticeNerd; a roleplay adaptation that would’ve made for a multichapter fic. Knight-Elite Ixtharion and his protégé, the slightly pyromaniacal Ashoza, are called on for a cryptic rescue mission in the Wildwoods, only to find the person they’re rescuing is none other than Parma, reconnaissance specialist of the lost Alpha Squad, who bears worrying information from the Core and evidence of her claims in the form of a dark miasma that appears to have eaten away her right arm. Ix has some knowledge on prosthetics, and takes over the effort to get Parma set up with one, facilitating interaction and camaraderie between the trio--and it’s them who chase after Parma when she delves back into the deepest layers of the Clockworks upon word coming back of the fate of the Alpha Squad’s technician...consumed by the Swarm and working for Herex.

I still really enjoy this concept tbh??? Like I don’t know if I could WRITE write it but if you guys still wanted to poke at it after all this time I’d be game. I don’t have a snippet, but I do have some nigh-incomprehensible notes from a document dated August 2018

Events:

Parma needs to recover a little bit, explore Haven when she can (her arm’s definitely going though)

Ix dinner party

Discussion of important things/she lets them in on what she found

Vanguards find Shadow Rulen in the depths and Parma immediately runs off looking, Ix and Shoza having to follow after her

Other ideas and stuff:

Scout slowly becomes a Seraphynx

Drunk Ashoza happens at some point

Concepts:

Shadow Rulen/Technomancer Rulen:

Is possessed/corrupted by the Swarm and taken in by Herex

Speaks in the plural in this state

Creates a very large mech (possibly named “Omega” something for irony?)

Swarm turret gatling gun

Shard bomb launcher

Tears out bits of the world and slams them down on enemies

Weak to overheading

Last ditch attempts to escape deeper into the core

Potential concept of Rulen losing his body to the Swarm and becoming a spirit who possesses/manipulates technology

Grantz’s Sword:

This dude took his oath way too seriously and stuck around even after dying, possessing his sword which remains around the core

Doesn’t realize he’s dead

Inadvertently possesses whatever knight holds the sword

---

Children of the Archives - Hollow Knight - 2019

Another collaborative project between the same trio, an AU affectionately referred to as “Monomom”. There isn’t so much a plot summation for this as there are a bunch of concepts; basically, in this verse, a very large amount of Vessels find their way out of the Abyss and into the Teacher’s Archives, becoming mainstays around there long before the Infection starts to take hold. Though Monomon still fulfils her duty, she isn’t happy about it or the Pale King’s plan, and Quirrel stays behind to take care of the Vessels after she’s gone, though becomes infected as a result. Several events in the game go differently, partially because Hornet is aware of the vessels and is more open with Ghost because of that awareness. Was meant to probably be a verse with a lot of domestic nonsense going on overall.

I don’t have a snippet, but there’s a doc with a lot of concepts, including about three pages’ worth of Vessels created between the three of us. Have some favorites:

Trio - Early model, has three arms. Acts like the older brother to other Vessels. Probably has three small Nails.

Ase - Broken Vessel, stoic leader, mature, has been wandering longer than the others, cares about siblings more than themself - Insists they’re strong and independent and don’t need help, try to get to the void, fail, several others from the Archives sneak out to drag them back to the Archives badly injured and scare the living daylights out of Quirrel

Lantern - Likes putting lumaflies in their head. Yes, the eyes glow depending how many there are. Theoretically if they Consume the shock ones, they could have laser beam eyes?

Vault - Taller and thicker vessel that likes storing stuff inside of them. Not a fighter. They fight by flinging stone writings at people and running.

Spite - Seven horns, is upset about that, breaks one off that forms the core of their nail, always down to fight. Will probably stab you if you insult a sibling.

Ink - Gets really good at making ink, their shell’s always stained, loves learning, pesters the students. Probably carries brushes instead, and would hang around Sheo for art.

Legion- One Shade spread over five Vessels. They act as a collective within a collective. If threatened will pile into a very stable tower and initiate a five-tiered Loom. Highly skilled in combat, as you need to take all five of them out within a short time period to fully incapacitate them. You might find one of their Shells roaming Fog Canyon, too keep a scout’s eye out for any potential dangers. If nothing else, they’re bouncing off of jellyfish because it’s fun. Each Shell of Leigon’s has a pentagon inked onto the back, with a dot in each corner responding to which Shell it is. Legion’s shade is as large as Hollow’s.

Smith: Slightly-large Vessel, missing a leg, really wants to be a Nailsmith. Alters between studying under The Nailsmith and practicing Nailcrafting on sibling’s blades. Keeps them in shape, if nothing else. Has a metal peg-leg they are perfectly willing to take off and smack you with if they’ve lost their nail.

---

Light Unseen - Destiny 2 - 2019

A backstory oneshot for Kaira, a blind Guardian only capable of seeing traces of Light where it’s present, and her Ghost, Nel, who acts as her guide. This particular bit of writing was meant to be Kaira and Nel’s first meeting, and Kaira’s first (and second) revival, as Nel tries to figure out how to accommodate her and help her escape from a Cabal ambush in the EDZ, eventually assisted by more experienced Guardians Irina and Elara-4, who become Kaira’s good friends.

I really, really love this character and I really, really want to do something more with her, but D2′s writing has gone in the crapper since Forsaken and I don’t agree with basically anything Bungie’s done with the game in the last year, so I’m in a bit of a pickle. I do have a snippet, though. Trigger warning for a brief description of an extremely long-dead corpse/skeleton.

Other Ghosts do this for years, he’s heard. But for him, it only takes a few minutes.

Sticking out of some bushes, the Ghost finds a leg. Not much of a leg, of course; the flesh has long since rotted away, and the elements have left just the barest scraps of fabric from the deceased’s clothes. As he delves into the bushs, branches scraping and poking at his shell, he sees the rest of the remains tangled inside are similarly skeletal. The skull is the worst, mangled and caved in around the eye sockets. He wonders how they’d come to be in a place like this, in a state like that. Had they fallen? Had someone, or something, tried to hide their body?

There’s no way for him to know, and he doubts he ever will. But it doesn’t matter, because what he does know is that this is it.

He doesn’t know in any logical capacity, but he knows because he can feel something inside of those bones reacting to his presence, like a pair of magnets drawn to each other’s polarities. He feels...warm, and whole, and his shell is buzzing as if with errant electricity, except it is not electricity, it is Light, his Light, the Light the Traveler had given him with the sole purpose of passing that wonderful gift on to another.

Their body isn’t really in an ideal position for resurrection, and he can’t do much about that given his lack of both size and limbs. But that doesn’t dampen his growing excitement, as he looks at those bones and wonders not for the first time what they’ll be like, what sort of adventures they’ll go on together.

There’s only one way to find out, he knows.

The red-shelled Ghost hovers there, relishing this moment of anticipation for a few seconds longer. And then, he can’t contain it any longer.

He opens himself up to the gift of the Light, and it all but consumes him; his form expands, a little blue sun with little metal planets orbiting around it, and every mechanical sensor cuts out. The part of him that isn’t mechanical reaches out, and from the tiny floating solar system comes a beam that bathes the lost bones in Light.

Flesh reforms itself in the wake of shimmering waves, and clothes over that. The skull rearranges its broken, twisted parts and knits itself back together. After what feels like an age to him, his sensors come back online as his shell wraps around him again, and he drifts back to check his handiwork.

They wear the cloak, hood, and mask of a Hunter, hiding their face. Their shape is vaguely feminine--he’s going to assume until they tell him themself. Her chest rises and falls slowly with her newly-restored breathing, as if she’s not yet fully awake, and she doesn’t seem to realize the fact that she’s lying in a bush.

“...Guardian?” He quells his excitement, trying to keep his voice soft as he flies in closer to her face--then quickly back as he realizes he may be too close. The branches rustle with a slight movement of her arm, and her head turns sluggishly. “Guardian, wake up. I’m sorry, I couldn’t move you--you’re going to have to get up.”

She tilts her head slightly upwards towards his voice. For a moment, there’s no other reaction, but then the words seem to register and she starts pushing herself into a sitting position. Branches snap and crack as she pushes against them, struggling, before she seems to realize a better way and starts sliding her feet along the ground, dragging herself out with her knees little by little until she can sit up unhindered. Once she’s up, she crosses her legs under her and sets her hands in her lap, chin dropped towards her chest as he hovers around her to make sure she’s all in one piece.

He can hardly believe it. His Guardian, living and breathing once again, right here in front of him. The Ghost flies around to hang in front of her face. “How do you feel?” No response, no acknowledgment. He guesses she’s still a little rattled. “Not much of a talker? Okay, you don’t have to talk right now, but we do need to get moving, there’s--”

The Hunter abruptly raises her head, and he stops talking. In the silence, a loud rumbling can be heard, gradually growing louder. Seconds pass, and he turns his eye upward to see a shadow in the sky above the trees--a very familiar shadow, as he’s seen several of these during his scouting missions.

“...Maybe they’ll pass us.”

The dropship stops in the air, almost directly overhead. The side of a wing is all he can see, but he can hear grunts and shouts all too close nearby, feet hitting the ground hard.

So, he’d been quite lucky to find his Guardian so quickly and easily. But apparently, he’d used up all that luck at once, and now a Cabal scouting party is here, for whatever reason.

“You know what I said about moving? We’re going to need to start on that right now.” The Ghost quickly disappears in a shimmer of light, still keeping an eye out around them. “I’m still here. I’ll explain everything later, I promise, but right now we’ve got to run. I’ve got a marker up for you, just follow that and don’t stop. Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.”

The Hunter stumbles to her feet, holding her arms out to steady herself. The Light is still waking inside of her; she probably doesn’t know how to control it, and without a gun, running is their only chance. She glances about wildly, and then takes off--not exactly in the direction of his marker, but he trusts she’s got a plan. If she’s a Hunter, she’s likely got impeccable instincts.

---

are ya winnin the puyo tournament son (doc name) - Puyo Puyo - October 2020

You know I had to do it. This is a oneshot based in an AU where Sig’s ancestor, Ajisai, is reconstituted by the deus ex machina duo themselves, Ecolo and (much to their chagrin) Satan. After spending a few weeks living in the middle of nowhere, Ajisai hears about an upcoming Puyo tournament and decides to participate in the festivities, using it as an excuse to endear themself to varying degrees to the students and visitors. Eventually, they confront Satan about his unacceptable behavior, and get a hint that Satan’s actions may be a bit more tragic than merely pathetic.

Basically this is just ‘what if Ajisai lived because I want to write more for them and I want to see how they’d interact with more characters’. It’s mostly just me goofing in 15th anniversary’s style and I don’t know if people would be interested, but I’m getting some enjoyment out of it.

Looking down on Primp Town from the ridge is rather like watching a beehive--except instead of honeycomb, the excited bees are rushing about building a network of colorful streamers and decorations hanging between buildings.

“You certainly have a lot of celebrations here, don’t you.”

Sig gives the barest of shrugs, not even bothering to glance up from the caterpillar that’s made itself at home on a finger of his claw. “Guess so. It’s fun, though.”

“What is it this time? The Primp Festival wasn’t too long ago. It can’t be that again, can it?”

“Puyo tournament. The school’s running it.”

“Ah, I see.”

“They did it last year, too. Bunch of Arle’s friends showed up.”

“You do realize I was there for the last one, yes?”

Sig finally looks over, and they patiently wait for him to arrive at the realization. “Oh, yeah. Right.”

Ajisai chuckles quietly under their breath as their descendant goes back to admiring the caterpillar. It is easy to forget that they’d been present during many of the major events in Sig’s life, if only because they look and act so different now that they have a whole body to themself again. It’s a small price to pay for their freedom, of course, and they owe Ecolo a great deal for the service.

Well, not just Ecolo, they suppose. There had been...others involved.

“It’s different playing in it yourself, though,” Sig continues after a pause. Ajisai shakes their head to dislodge the loose thoughts before turning back to him.

“Are you going to be joining in this year, then?”

“Yeah.” A tiny smile comes to Sig’s face, though he still doesn’t look up. Nothing more needs to be said, so a comfortable silence stretches on between them, as Sig watches the caterpillar climb his arm and offers his right hand to crawl on instead so he doesn’t lose the little thing. Meanwhile, Ajisai can’t help but glance back down towards the frenetic party preparations, slight fangs poking at their lower lip in thought.

They’ve been alive and well for at least two weeks now, and only four people even know about it; they’ve either been staying at Sig’s house rereading the collection they’d passed down to him or wandering about the Forest of Nahe aimlessly, occasionally slipping into town at night to have a look around before quickly leaving again. But...they’d like to go into town, if only to visit the library. There are so many of Sig’s classmates they’d never gotten to meet properly, too. After so long isolated, they finally remember what it’s like to feel a need for companionship.

There’s only the question of if they deserve it. If they’ll be welcome there.

Ajisai takes a deep breath. “Is this tournament only for the students?”

“No,” Sig replies without missing a beat, “Bunch of other people are probably gonna play. Arle’s friends, Ringo’s friends, the space guys, Ally…Dunno who’s coming, but I’d be surprised if those guys didn’t.”

“Hm.”

“You wanna play too?” Sig takes his attention from the caterpillar, looking over at them with half-lidded, questioning eyes and pursed lips. “You’re really good.”

“Well…” Leave it to their ‘nephew’ to see right through them. Ajisai looks away, hair flicking in slight agitation. They’ve picked up a thing or two about Puyo over the years, it’s true--they’ve even given some of Sig’s classmates a run for their money in the past. Though that only brings up the circumstances of those battles, which were...less than ideal. “Do you think they’d be willing to have me?”

“You’d have to ask Ms. Accord.” Typical Sig--doesn’t even notice their internal struggle, or perhaps he does and doesn’t think it’s an issue. He points down at the town with a clawed finger. “She’s probably down there helping set up.”

Ajisai narrows their eyes, considering it. They suppose the worst that can happen is them being told no and having to go back to the forest, but the idea of just walking into town as they are is a bit unnerving. Still… “Would you mind if I went down there now, then?”

“Go ahead,” Sig says, focus returning to the caterpillar. They can’t help but chuckle a bit under their breath at their nephew’s fascination, the same all-consuming interest that they had for books and stories.

Ajisai stands, shaking the grass out of their cape before resting a hand on Sig’s left shoulder and squeezing slightly. “Don’t go running off,” they say with a wry smirk, fully aware that Sig will probably still be watching the caterpillar twenty minutes from now.

Sig knows it too, and huffs a little, amused snort through his nose. “Yeah, I’ll try not to.”

#buraidragon #Anonymous

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peaches-of-1 · 5 years ago

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Day 7 | Lost in the Snow

Fem!Reader x Goddess!Chung Ha

When you stormed out of the winter lodge after a fight with your boyfriend, you were expecting him to run after you. Instead, he stayed inside to flirt with one of the waiters. Of course, when you called him out on it, he “wasn’t flirting” and just “being friendly”. However, you knew him well. You had been dating for nearly two years now, not to mention you half expected the man to propose to you on this trip.

Anger boiled up inside you and came out as hot tears that threatened to freeze on your cheeks, so you wiped them away with bare hands. Wait, why was skin brushing against skin? Where were your gloves? Panicked looking around your body to make sure you were wearing your padded coat which he had bought matching versions of for this very winter vacation. However, nothing was there. No gloves, no scarf, no vest. Nothing to protect you from the cold.

“I’d better go back to our room.” You said, sniffling and folding your arms against your chest.

As you looked towards your building, you couldn’t help but sigh and try to decide whether or not you should break up with him. He had been an affectionate guy from the start, but...shouldn’t he prioritize you instead of complete strangers especially on vacation? Your footsteps were disappearing in the snow as the wind got more and more intense, making you have to lean against it in order to make any leeway. With every step forward, you began to forget about your boyfriend and your feelings since all you could feel was the cold threatening to leave your body bitten by frost and forcing you to become part of the landscape.

You were 100% lost by the time the snow storm finally subsided.

How stupid could you be? Couldn’t you have just put on your jacket and gloves or even just your scarf before marching out into the cold? Why didn’t you just go straight to your hotel room, anyways? Your breath was white and heavy as it left your body. At some point, you had fallen to your knees. Your jeans were basically frozen now along with your nose. No amount of blowing hot breath into your cupped hands could bring any sensation to your fingertips.

A scream of frustration tore through your vocal chords emitting a sound that would put any winged harpy to shame. Your thoughts were a conflicting mess of needing to survive not only your previous heartbrokenness but also this snowy landscape that could quite easily become your grave. You needed to breathe before moving again, though.

It’d be getting dark soon, probably. You had no sense of time out here. No landmarks. Hopelessness began to blanket you as if it were snow on a naked tree.

“Why?” a voice that was not your own, asked.

You looked around, shocked to hear someone else. A woman that was barely a wisp of existence began to walk towards you. It seems as if she were gliding, but you saw no footprints.

Part of you thought you were hallucinating a Yuki-onna, the Japanese spirit who would make you hug a child or shove you into a dark snowy valley. However, the woman was not a black haired ghost with blue lips, but a blonde haired woman with red lips. Her cheeks glittered as if there were her own frozen tears permanently on there.

“Why are you here, stranger?” The pale woman asked. “You are not supposed to be in this location.”

“I got lost.” You said, sniffling your blocked nose.

She giggled, “Let me fix that for you.” a crystalline fingernail reached out and tapped the top of your nose.

A rush of air went through it and you could breathe out of it once more. Bewildered, you looked up at the woman and thanked her. She put her cloak about your shoulders and helped you into a standing position.

“I saw you get farther and farther from the place where humans usually reside after I felt your sorrow from miles away.” She kept your hand in yours. “Do not speak. Just relax for now.”

You looked at her with terror as she helped you into her sleigh. She only giggled and assured you that she was not here to take your life, but to save it. You rested your head against her side as the fur of the coat warmed your body. She said that the ride was long, and you needed your rest.

When you awoke, you began to realize you weren’t at the lodge nor at your regular bed. Where…

“Glad you’re awake.” The blonde transparent woman from before said as she entered your room with tea and treats, setting it at your bedside table.

The room was too dark to be made out of ice and yet it had an odd sense of coldness hovering in the air, as if you just opened your freezer and there was a condensed haze of fog around. However, it was easy to see through.

“Hello.” You said, sitting up. “T-thank you for saving me. I should get going.”

“No, please stay. Just for a few days.” She said, sitting by your legs underneath a transparent but heavy comforter. “You’ve surely caught a cold being out in my weather in such light clothing.”

You shook your head, trying to deny it, but that shake must’ve loosened up all the sneezes your body contained as a barrage of sternutations lept from your chest. The lady did nothing except hand you a box of tissues. You nodded your head in thanks before blowing your nose.

“Oh, I do not believe I ever introduced myself to you. I am ChungHa, the goddess of the snow mountain.” She said, bowing in a sheer and glittering robe which touched the ground, fur lining every edge.

She gave a simply breathtaking smile while promising you that it’d be ok if you stayed for a while.

However, you stuttered out, “M-my, my boyfriend. He’ll be wondering where I am.”

She furrowed her brows and touched your cheek, “The boyfriend who didn’t chase after you?” ChungHa pulled her hand back and into her lap. “I heard you talking to yourself during the storm.”

“Oh…” So she knew.

“Humans really like communicating even to the wind. I find it endearing.” She giggled. “Though you insist on destroying my mountain for mere entertainment, you have a few redeeming qualities. Especially faces like yours.”

ChungHa suddenly stood, “Oh, um. My apologies. I brought you tea and some cookies. Both have herbs which help to heal the body. Take as much time as you need. When you feel like you can, feel free to roam inside.”

With a sharp and serious face, she looked at you from the doorway, “Do not go outside without me. Understand?”

You nodded and she gave you a smile before leaving. The door was at the foot of your bed, and there didn’t seem to be any windows. Natural light seemed like it came through the walls. A lamp next to your bed was shaped like an icy chandelier and added extra illumination to the room.

Maybe he wouldn’t worry about you. If so, it served him right. He shouldn’t have ignored you in the first place.

ChungHa was a sweet goddess. A kind heart that had been frozen by years of solitude and yet it still beat strongly in her chest. Her lips were the only part of her which emitted true heat in their fiery redness. The glittering stones on her cheek were her ever flowing tears which froze on her face, so they did not appear to grow or move to mortal eyes.

She healed you up in what seemed like two days at most. The food which was served for every meal was delicious and natural, fresh and rich with every bite being as satisfying as the first. However...there was something lonely about her.

You didn’t want to go.

Part of you had thought to have fallen in love with her, but you were sure it was just because the blonde goddess had saved you from your certain death.

“It’s almost dawn, my dear Y/N. I believe it is best if I take you back to your lover.” She said, her hair now in a ponytail. “There’s no reason for you to stay since you are completely healthy thanks to my care.”

ChungHa dressed you in an iridescent cloak of your own. You had worn it outside when she let you see her garden. It was a magical place where flowers seemed even more beautiful and bright dusted in snow and encased in frost. You had particular fondness for the plum blossoms. They were so small and yet had a charming purple-magenta color that caught your eye.

The goddess and her fuzzy footmen made sure you were secured safely in the silver sleigh before taking off back towards the main area where you’d be put to walk back to your hotel room alone. She couldn’t go all the way with you and if you stayed with her for too long, you’d become trapped on the mountain with her. Magic rules and all that stuff.

The ride was mostly quiet until she spoke up, “Um, did you...were you comfortable there at my home?”

You nodded swiftly, holding the bouquet of plum blossoms she had gotten for you as a goodbye gift and turned into a flower crown to place upon your head. Part of you wanted to tell her that you wanted to stay, but you wanted to see your boyfriend. What had he been up to while you were recovering?

“Not many people know about you, huh?” You asked.

“No. I’m too minor to have my specific name known by humanity as a whole. They group me with dokkebi. I am more than a simple goblin.” She scoffed.

You smiled, “Well, I’ll write about you. Everything that you’ve told me, I’ll create a page for you. I don’t care if anyone believes me. I’ll let them know about ChungHa. The kind goddess of the snowy mountain that saves lost travellers and guests that wandered too far out. Platinum blonde hair and lips like roses. Eternal tears that sparkle like the first frost upon her cheeks. Like rhinestones. Like stars. Whose touch is like fresh mint, burning but comforting since her heart has been frozen.”

She kissed your forehead before hugging you tightly.

“Thank you, my dear. You are too kind for a spirit like me to know.” She giggled softly.

The sleigh stopped to halt.

“It is time for you to go.”

When you entered the lobby, you saw your boyfriend yelling at police officers. He looked over at you mid sentence and then did a double take, stopping in the middle of his words. He was saying how badly the mountain men were doing, that they should’ve found you already. The two of you just stared at each other.

“Y/N?” He squeaked, tears already falling from his face and choking him.

“It’s me.”

Your lover ran towards you and he gave you kisses and hugs that were deeper and tighter than any he had given you before. He promised he’d be a better boyfriend. That he’d take care of you and would give you the attention you deserved. And you believed him.

And he kept his promise, proposing to you during dinner that night. You soon went home to spread word of your engagement but also writing your article on ChungHa. There were a few details you had to fudge here and there, saying it was word of mouth instead of first hand experience.

Your friends were so happy to hear of the marriage to be, how he’d become your husband. Yet you couldn’t stop thinking about her. Your goddess. ChungHa.

Months passed, and you thought of her every day. Your article had barely picked up any traffic, but you still checked to see who looked. People asked who you talked to. Told you it could be a new thing. A new goddess to praise. In your heart of hearts, you knew what you had to do.

There was no doubt in your mind.

The wedding was tomorrow. You had decided to hold one at the lodge resort where you had been proposed to in the first place. He was in the bed next to you, your fiancé. Still, you didn’t want the ring on your finger to have come from him. On top of the letter you prepared weeks ago, you set the ring on top.

It was an apology and a warning to not look for you. Also assurance that you were ok, but you’d be happier without him as your husband, the one you’d be promised to for the rest of your life. There was someone you loved more. Someone who wouldn’t leave your head nor your heart.

ChungHa.

You threw on your cloak and walked up the mountain, ignoring the coldness of your feet as they were in boots. You were warm. Scared. But you didn’t look back. There was nothing for you at that resort. Your heart was in the mountain. Your head came across a branch of plum blossoms.

“You came back?” The unmistakably crisp and sweet voice questioned.

You looked to see her standing behind you and couldn’t help but smile.

“Of course I did, ChungHa. I love you.” The words came out before you could say the speech you had rehearsed a thousand times. “I love you and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I don’t care if I get stuck on this mountain as long as I’m with my goddess.”

Her tears seemed to fall past her cheeks as she hugged you tightly, “I love you too, Y/N. I’m never going to let you go again.”

“And I won’t let you.”

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madamhatter · 4 years ago

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Sophie and Hollow for ship thing? :o

Send me a ship and I’ll tell you... | accepting

Who asks the other on dates:

Evermore vocal and initiative taker with the right personalities, Sophie is one that would always inquire and gauge Hollow’s interests if they’d like to go out. Her attentive nature is already accounting for what Hollow likes whenever they’re staying in her hometown and what they usually bring once they return from the forest. Though, a common theme is that whenever Sophie asks someone on a date, it isn’t necessarily a date in the romantic context -- as she’s pretty much like molasses to admit these things even when she’s painstakingly aware.

Hollow does ask out Sophie out, but in the case, it’s more spur of the moment because they aren’t too focused on that. It’ll usually be whenever Sophie is cooing and inquiring about things that Hollow does, and they take it as an ‘oh! she must be interested’ and offers the proposal. They also follow under the same umbrella of ‘dates aren’t inherently romantic’ like Sophie, but they also have different forms of showing affection, and going on outings usually isn’t seen as one.

Who is the bigger cuddler:

How in the world would one be able to successfully cuddle a demi-god of over 9ft? Sophie has that answer because she will do it and has no complaints about it. However, the way they join together isn’t like a normal ‘couple,’ as you can imagine. It’s usually just Sophie leaning against Hollow’s side, wrapping her arms around their side (careful for about the scars as she doesn’t want them to be uncomfortable).

Hollow is receptive at best when Sophie gives him a vocal head’s up as they’re still remarkably jumpy about touches (to a higher degree than Sophie). Accounting for how drowsy the seamstress would get, trying to refuse herself to sleep until she finally crashes after several days, Hollow tends to extend their cloak and wraps Sophie in it too.

As for initiating touch, Hollow is much more careful when they use their hands and arms. Which would be elaborated on in the next point.

Who initiates holding hands more often:

Sophie is the one to reach out and allows her palm to press against the nyx palm of Hollow’s comparing hand sizes and she might cheekily give their hand a squeeze. Though, she isn’t one that’ll always hold their hand, especially considering that Hollow would prefer open palms to equip their Needle if anything were to happen. After all, always keeping on the alert and able to fight was a part of how they were raised as they were destined to be the savior -- despite it not being in a way one would normally think it to be.

Hollow, however, initiates their own form of ‘hand-holding’ or quick forms of PDA through the fact they push and press their forehead against Sophie’s. More clicking, whistling, and humming would be emitted from them as they nestle against her as she’s unable to stop blushing, quiet tongue-tied at how much more intimate this tends to be. There is much more emphasis in face touching when it comes to Hollow and Sophie eats it up.

Who remembers anniversaries:

Both! It’s usually celebrated early into the morning because they both, admittedly, have a weird sleeping schedule and tend to be closer together once it’s night time and they’re not distracted. Sophie has made it a habit to count down to the damn hour and once it hits 12:00 AM, she will approach Hollow and shower them with adoration and reminding them ‘happy anniversary.’

In Hollow’s case, it has taken several years for them to realize their relationship with Sophie has developed into a romantic sense. So, while they remember the date recently, it was something that surprised them during the beginning and it’s still something to get used to. Though, they will never be empty-handed and unprepared for the day -- it’ll just being something that’ll take some hours to prep.

Who is more possessive:

Now, this relationship wouldn’t really ever get into the topics of jealousy and possessiveness, given Hollow’s general nature and how Sophie’s own jealousy doesn’t always come out and reveal its ugly colors. I would say neither.

Who gets more jealous:

Like the previous answer, I don’t see the dynamic exploring that much in jealousy and possessiveness. However, I will mark this as Sophie’s, given her self-deprecation and low views on herself. It is something that Hollow would learn after some time, as to how she tends to push away and keep to herself.

Though, it isn’t aimed towards them, but it is own her own issues with understanding that her own jealousy is stemmed from feeling useless and, if she can’t provide, what’s the point of keeping her around. Hollow is remarkably sympathetic in this regard, when Sophie opens up about it, because their mutual trauma as eldest siblings, though VASTLY different in conditions, led to some suprising similarities in what they deal with about their self-perception (among other things).

Who is more protective:

Both! Hollow is a god damn knight and will not hesitate to throw hands with anyone. Hell, there’s a point Sophie would have to plead with Hollow not to go so carelessly into fighting -- as they already do it without a problem and not needing a reason. Though, their protiectiveness is more of their presence available and them, being admittedly a outright terrifying cryptid demi-god prince, which would discourage anyone from bothering/targeting Sophie. Though, oh boy, I don’t think Hollow would think twice if someone does try to harm Sophie because hey, they got a sword, and the person tried to get violent, so let’s give him what they wanted-

Sophie, meanwhile, is the outspoken one for Hollow’s behalf and it can get very embarrassing for the young knight. She would refuse to speak poorly about them and will not hesitate to reveal her previous affinity for dirty fighting. She will always see the better of her partner and will be adamant not to move from protecting them.

Who is more likely to cheat:

Neither! It’s far too out of the character, especially considering their shared trait of fidelity. Hollow already isn’t interested or considering any relationships since it takes them a whiel to realize it. Sophie is way too emotionally taken in Hollow and would really ever consider someone else.

Who initiates sexy times the most:

Neither as Hollow isn’t interested in any sexual contact and it’s something Sophie learns shortly and will always respect.

Who dislikes PDA the most:

Both, but not for the usual reasons. They have to work through how they respond to touches and it’s a slow process. Though, Hollow is much of one who’ll be happy to receive, rather than give -- which works out for Sophie when she works on herself by being more affectionate in public. If anything, it’s not all about the displays and being physical, it’s more like being vocal in a springtime song of young love -- full of whistles and chirps and giggles.

Who kills the spider:

Sophie wouldn’t be opposed to killing spiders, but Hollow tells her that she shouldn’t worry about it. So, neither.

Who asks the other to marry them:

Relationships aren’t so typical when you’re a demi-god in love with a mortal, who you know won’t last as long as you, but you know the love will. It isn’t a track that Hollow ever considered, even if Sophie admits it time and again about her own ‘simple’ and ‘silly’ dreams were to have a family, be it with or without a partner. It made the knight ponder the longer they stay with her, usually thoughtful of her actions and words, especially when she looks after people.

Marriage wasn’t something that’d fit -- it wasn’t as simple as fitting a ring unto someone’s finger and exchange vows. But, it was Hollow who did propose to Sophie in their own unique way, which went beyond them pledging themselves to never leave her-- something they knew she terribly feared and they terribly realized would happen.

But, Hollow proposes on a knee, like they remembered as they did when they were finally knighted. It was everlasting fidelity as long as she would live. She’d gently hold his hollowed mask against her chest, hugging him quietly, crying at the implications of her mortality, but even happier to know they were together.

Who buys the other flowers or gifts:

Neither! They both prefer making eachother gifts and it’s usually involving flowers and something Hollow would find in their travels. Sophie prefers focusing on seamstressing by fixing Hollow’s cloak and fitting hats on them around the time it got cold -- even if they’re not prone to getting cold.

Who would bring up possibly having kids:

Sophie! Though, as their both eldest children, they have their hands full with their siblings. It would be more of her asking Hollow if they ever thought of having an apprentice or adopting.

Who is more nervous to meet the parents:

Sophie would be, if Hollow makes here aware of the fact that one their parents (White Lady) is still alive. There is quite a bit of context and plot needing to be developed if Sophie ever does go to Hallownest with Hollow. God, how would you go up to your parent and explain that you’re now courting a squishy little human.

Hollow, already, has met Sophie’s stepmother and her sisters by the fact Sophie gave them shelter at her home. They are not as confident, per say, but they don’t reveal just how nervous they can be. They get on well with Sophie’s sisters, more so Martha absolutely adores hearing the stories from Hollow that Sophie translates, while Lettie them remarkably intriguing, especially with what they aren’t (as in non-humans are pretty rare in these parts).

Once romantic feelings are involved, or Hollow realizes their own, they’re more nervous about Sophie revealing that to her stepmother. Or, in some cases, they’re more worried about the long-term that they’re introduced, but one day, they’ll...they’ll need to leave.

Who sleeps on the couch when the other is angry:

Neither. I don’t see them being them getting so angry with another that one is sentenced to the couch or needs to sleep apart. Though, there can be a flavor of mistrust and confusion when understanding the other and how little they may reveal about themselves. They don’t do it to hurt the other, but it is something that they need to work on independently as people. There might be times, however, that they may need to separate and they work away to work on their problems alone.

Who tries to make up first after arguments:

Hollow. They spent far too many years chained up and harboring the Radiance inside of them to let any other moment go to waste. If they ever did fall into an argument, it would be a long silence before Hollow gently reaches out and checks on Sophie -- which shortly dissolves the negative emotions.

Who tells the other they love them more often:

Both. Never a question about it because Hollow and Sophie are so soft for another :’)

#( checkbooks inquiries and much ; answered asks )#( hollow && sophie rel tag tba )#knightofivory #[ the knight and the hatter. *chef kiss* adorable lil funky lads. ]

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bluerene · 6 years ago

Text

don’t think twice [bbrae]

hellooooo friends!! Happy belated Valentine’s Day!

I had wanted to share a few one-shots for my tumblr valentines earlier this week, but after getting swamped with a paper and a surprise fever, I realized I would not be posting anything in time for the day of hearts :( That said, I still have some gifts to upload so I’ll be staggering these out over the next few days in celebration of my favorite ships and my favorite people on this website and in this fandom.

So, without further ado, my first Valentine goes to @fireflyxrebel , without whom my starx fics + writing presence here would not have existed. Thanks for always being down to chat, Ava, and being the sweetest + most supportive mom friend ever. You’re an astoundingly beautiful, creative, TALENTED human. Love you lots!

Please note - if you’re using tumblr mobile to read this, the formatting will be 100% fucked. I’m not sure why, but there are a lot of random instances of italicization + gross spacing. Sorry <3

Also, not to used cursed terminology, but it’s a tiny bit lemon scented. Or is it lime scented? That’s right, folks, we are BACK on the citrus scale.

don’t think twice

How did I live in a kingdom of thieves?

And people who say things they don’t really mean?

You’re only everything I ever dreamed of.

You must be kidding me, did you really think I could say no?

- Don’t Think Twice, Hikaru Utada

It wasn’t until they had crossed the threshold, their limbs entangled as they landed on the bed, her veil askew and his dress shirt half-unbuttoned, that they realized what they had done.

“Wife,” Gar whispered, nuzzling her neck sweetly. He curled his body around hers, breathing a sigh of relief as they sank into the soft duvet of their bed.

“It doesn’t feel real, does it?” She mused, studying the silver band on her finger with wide eyes, “after everything that’s happened, I didn’t know if things would ever work.”

He chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

“You had doubts?”

“You didn’t?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you’d make it all the way down the aisle and still say yes.”

She elbowed him sharply, rolling her eyes.

“Careful, it’s not too late to get an annulment.”

“You’d just do it all over again in two months like we planned,” he said cheekily.

Raven smiled, raising her hands to cup his face.

“Yeah,” she agreed, “you’re probably right about that.”

Her cheeks were pink when she leaned in, brushing her lips against his teasingly. He whimpered when she pulled away, catching her palm and pressing his mouth against it, watching her with dark eyes.

“Help me get ready for bed?”

The desire that had pooled in his stomach gave way to pure adoration. He nodded and clambered off the bed, bounding over to her side and scooping her up into his arms.

She suppressed a giggle and wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing him to carry her to the bathroom.

Gar flicked on the light and whistled, admiring the polished marble and crystalline glow that filled the room.

“Not bad for a shotgun wedding, huh?”

“We owe Kori big time, you know. She was ready to cry when I told her we wanted to elope early.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t follow us here.”

Raven snorted, patting his chest to let her down, “Believe me, she tried. I had to remind her several times that we would still be having a formal ceremony in December. This was her compromise - she insisted on booking the most expensive honeymoon suite in Vegas in exchange for her silence. I have no idea how she’s going to explain that gap in their finances to Dick.”

“Best sister ever,” Gar commented affectionately, nipping his wife’s ear, “okay, where do we start?”

She touched the top of her head and frowned, wrapping her fingers around the band of the veil that was half-attached to her hair.

“There are some pins here that you could take out. And then start on the buttons on the back of my dress? I can take the choker off myself.”

“Sure.”

Her hands went to the clasp of the white ribbon around her neck while his combed through her hair, unpinning the purple waves that were contained beneath the sheer fabric. He glanced around the bathroom, his gaze landing on the massive claw-foot tub that sat a few feet away from them.

“Hey, Rae, how does a bath sound?” He murmured, sliding the veil off of her head and placing it beside the sink.

“Bubbles and all?”

“I’m on it, can you finish your dress by yourself?”

She nodded, smiling at his reflection in the mirror.

“Just undo the first few buttons and I can do the rest.”

He took his time with them, not missing the opportunity to press his fingers against her bared skin. Her eyes fluttered shut while he did so, her mouth falling open when his breath warmed her flesh.

“Don’t get distracted,” she warned.

“Me? I would never,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck before seating himself on the edge of the tub. He turned on the faucet and placed his fingers beneath the flowing water absentmindedly, his attention fixed on her.

Gar spent more than his fair share of time wondering how he’d been so lucky. How, after years of fighting and facing the worst of the world, he had wound up tasting heaven and claiming a piece of it for himself. Moreover, allowing himself to be taken time and time again by its allure, ferocity, and wit.

Even in the weeks leading up to their wedding, a tiny part of him was certain it wouldn’t happen. It couldn’t happen. Arella would withdraw her blessing. Steve and Rita would blow them off in favor of a mission that required their immediate assistance. Something would get in the way. And as the first ceremony neared, Gar began to panic.

On the sixteenth of October, two full months before their scheduled trip to Azarath and the subsequent white wedding they had planned to host in Jump, Gar asked Raven to marry him again.

She had only raised an eyebrow, shutting the novel in her lap and setting it aside on her bed.

“I feel like we already had this conversation.”

“I mean, now. Like, now, now.”

She pursed her lips.

“What about the actual wedding?”

Gar shook his head, bouncing with excitement.

“Don’t you see? None of that stuff matters, Rae, not when we have each other, not when we want to get married and we’re ready to do it.”

Raven crossed her arms, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you? I thought you were excited about doing a bigger thing. The whole Doom Patrol promised to be there, everyone in the Network is showing up, Vic’s been planning the ‘bachelor party of the century’ for ages. My mom’s even convinced the Head Priestess to let us bring the others to Azarath for our binding. We can’t just cancel on these people, Gar.”

“Is there something so wrong with me wanting to be with you for the rest of my life as soon as possible?”

She scowled.

“What is this, do you think we’re going to call it quits five minutes before or something? I planned on being with you for the rest of my life the moment I said yes to you. Isn’t that enough?”

“If words were enough, I wouldn’t have proposed at all.” He snapped, running a hand through his hair.

“Okay,” Raven said sharply, rising from her seat, “I don’t want this to go any further. We aren’t fighting about this. So you can either tell me why you suddenly want to elope or you can walk away from this conversation, and we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

Gar squeezed his eyes shut and sighed tiredly, rubbing the side of his face.

“Sorry. That was too far, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.”

“You know I love you more than anything in the world.”

“I know that too.”

“I just, ah, I guess I’ve been waiting for something to go wrong,” he confessed, fidgeting nervously, “Vic and Sarah had to postpone their wedding twice because things came up. Kori almost died three weeks before her bachelorette party and Dick broke six bones saving someone else on their honeymoon. I’m so fucking tired of being afraid, Rae. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want anything to get in the way. I just want you to be my wife.”

Her glare softened immediately and she stepped forward, circling her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek to his chest.

“I’ve been picking up waves of concern from you for weeks,” she confessed, “I just didn’t know if you wanted to talk about it. I’m sorry, Gar.”

He dropped a kiss on her head, rubbing her back soothingly.

“I got defensive. I shut you out. That’s my fault, not yours. But I still want to get married, right now.”

“Gar -”

“We don’t have to cancel our other plans, Rae, nothing needs to change! We can sneak off to Vegas tonight and get hitched and nobody would even need to know -”

She rolled her eyes, snuggling into his form.

“Bold of you to assume Kori wouldn’t find out.”

“- about us at the end of the day, right? I just want to be married to you. I want to call you my wife. No matter what goes wrong tomorrow or next week or the night before our marriage.”

“Okay.”

“So I don’t see why we can’t - wait, what?” Gar blinked and gripped her arms, pulling her away from him to study her face, “You mean it? We can go?”

She smiled and touched his cheek.

“I love you, Gar. I would never say no to marrying you, no matter when you had asked. I just didn’t want you to make a choice you couldn’t defend.”

“So...we’re getting married? Tonight?”

Raven nodded, gazing into his bright eyes.

“Let me talk to Kori and see if she can cover for us. Go ahead and pack some stuff together.”

He morphed into a wolf and let out a loud howl, bounding around her excitedly before knocking her to the ground and licking her face enthusiastically.

“Down - boy,” she managed between laughs, scratching behind his ears. She rubbed her cheek against his affectionately and rose from the ground, adjusting her cloak and heading into the hallway.

It would be a few days before they managed to slip away, having obtained permission and “the essentials that you must take with you if you wish for me to keep your secret!” that were so lovingly bestowed upon them by their dear sister. But in the end, it was absolutely worth it.

“GAR.”

A loud shriek from Raven broke him out of his reverie, drawing his attention to the scalding water that was burning his hand. Gar yelped and pulled his hand away immediately, wincing at the stinging sensation on his reddened skin.

“Idiot,” Raven scolded, taking his hand in hers tenderly. She clasped her cool fingers around it and closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

“Azarath Metrion Zinthos.”

A gentle trickling washed over the injury, soothing it until the pain had faded to a faint tingling.

“Thanks, babe. My bad.”

“Go and change out of your suit, I’ll finish making up our bath,” she ordered, shaking her head.

He obeyed immediately, loosening his tie and placing it with the growing pile of her discarded accessories. His suit jacket, dress shirt, and undershirt landed in a crumpled heap on the floor, his dress pants and socks following soon after. A fluffy robe hung invitingly beside the bathroom door and he couldn’t resist slipping into it.

“Done,” he chirped, approaching his new wife, who was also swathed in a fluffy robe identical to his.

She smiled up at him, drawing her fingers out of the tub and shaking them dry.

“It’s almost ready, though I’m tempted to just curl up in bed wearing these.”

“The goal is to get naked, not bundle up.”

“Maybe your goal is to get naked,” she shot back, “but mine is to be cozy.”

He grinned.

“We can get cozy and naked. Let me warm you up -”

“Oh look, the bath is full,” Raven said airily, smirking when his ears drooped, “I’ll add the bubbles, you can light the candles.”

“Do you plan on teasing me all night or...?”

She flashed him a rare grin, her dark eyes glinting mischievously.

“Would I really be your wife if I didn’t?”

Gar pouted and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know,” she breathed, placing her hands on his and lacing their fingers together.

“We did it. We’re married, Rae.”

His nose sought out her skin, his tongue tracing the shell of her ear slowly. Her dreamy sighs were music to his ears.

The jewel in the center of her forehead flared black for a moment, the lights around them flickering in tandem with each brush of his mouth against her body. A growl rumbled from deep within his chest, the echoes of his inner beast stirring to recognize their mate. She smelled sweet and clean, like a burst of fresh air on the ocean breeze.

“Gar,” she murmured, stepping away from the tub, “wait.”

She pushed him off of her gently, biting her lip as she studied him in the soft lighting. His eyes were a warm, dark, emerald shade of green, filled with desire and happiness and longing. His shoulders had broadened in the last few years, complementing his added height and sharpened jaw. But beneath the figure of a man, she could feel the same boy who had called her weird while never truly minding her weirdness. His heartbeat always quickened at her touch. His gaze always brightened. His ears always twitched.

“I love you too,” she whispered, slowly loosening the belt around his waist and pushing the robe off his shoulders. She turned her head, and he followed her gaze, promptly stripping out of his boxers and climbing into the tub. Slowly, with a quiet hesitancy he hadn’t witnessed in a long time, she raised her hand, sending black flashes of energy to each candle that had been placed in the bathroom. Her eyes glowed, and the dimmer on the light switch lowered, leaving them in darkness lit only by gentle flares.

He watched unashamedly as the robe slipped from her form, revealing a band of dark blue lace that hugged her breasts and hips tightly. A strip of white lace sat high on her thigh, looking strikingly bright against the smooth grey of her skin.

“Something borrowed and something blue,” Raven said shyly, “I figured we could keep things a little traditional.”

“Yeah,” Gar replied, mouth going dry at the sight of his near-naked wife in the candlelight, “Something old and something new?”

She neared the edge of the tub, bracing herself with his shoulder and climbing in.

“The necklace was my mother’s. I’ll wear it again in December. As for the new...”, she stroked his hair gently, “I plan to keep my new husband on my body for the rest of the night. That counts, right?”

“Works for me,” he mumbled, running his hands up her legs.

“Careful with the garter, that’s borrowed. Feel free to tear into the underwear as you please.”

She stood before him, sighing with delight when he gripped her hips and pressed a kiss against the curve of her waist. He hooked his fingers beneath the garter and slid it down her leg slowly, tossing it in the direction of his discarded clothes before focusing on the dark lace that curved around her ass.

“Hell yes,” he hissed, nipping at the seams with his teeth.

Bathwater splashed over the edge as his enthusiasm overcame him. She giggled and thrashed in his hold, her laughter turned to breathless moans and pants and cries, some of which were so animalistic they rivaled his own. Waves rode out into a quiet stillness until there was only her body and his, two pieces wrapped together to form a whole. He stroked her skin gently, lavishing the parts that had been darkened by his relentless mouth. They toweled off and drained the tub, wrapped in their fluffy robes once more, and snuggled into their bed, rejoining their bodies over and over again.

When morning came, it was to bring forward the two lovers into the life they truly deserved.

I want you for a lifetime, so if you’re gonna think twice, baby,

I don’t wanna know, baby, I don’t wanna know.

Everything is just right, but if you’re gonna think twice, baby,

I don’t wanna know, baby, I don’t wanna know.

If you wanna take it to an even higher level,

all you gotta do is say the word you know I’ll follow,

If you wanna take it to an even higher level,

I don’t, I don’t bite.

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glynwarrensarchive · 5 years ago

Text

AVRIEL LORLAMIR GLYNWARREN - CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT QUESTIONNAIRE

BASICS -

1. Height?

Avi is 6’1.

2. Eye colour?

Brown.

3. Do they need glasses?

No.

4. Scars and birthmark?

He has permanent Lichtenberg figure scars climbing up his left hand and forearm that glow when his powers take effect. He also adorns a large scar across his chest from a previous battle, and lots of smaller scars on his arms and legs from regular mishaps on the farm. He has a brown birthmark on his shoulder blade that’s the size of a golf ball.

5. Tattoos and piercings?

None.

6. Right or left handed?

Right-handed.

7. Any disabilities? Physical or mental.

None at the moment.

8. Do they have any allergies?

Cottonwood pollen gives him seasonal allergies, though they were really only common in his village and aren’t found everywhere. He hasn’t discovered any allergies in Hegaehend’s environment.

9. Favourite colour?

Forest green.

10. Typical outfits?

Avi has terrible fashion sense, and still wears his farm clothes on off days. Most of his shirts have stains or tears. When he’s on-duty or in battle, his fashion sense is only slightly better. He wears elven chain with dark clothes and a simple cloak with a hood. His most high-quality item is always his shoes, of which he has two pairs. One is a steel-toed pair of work boots, and the others are impressive, longer, and light-weight leather boots that he wears in battle.

11. Do they wear any makeup?

No.

12. What weapon do they use, if any?

With one hand usually wielding his arcane focus (a homemade wand), Avi uses his other hand to hold either a shield or a battleaxe. He also has two daggers on him.

PERSONALITY -

13. Are they more optimistic or pessimistic?

Avriel is terribly optimistic. It’s not naivety, per say, but rather a stubborn refusal to accept that some things just aren’t possible. He believes in miracles, but mostly he believes that if he works hard and is brave, the world will reward him. He believes good things will come to him because he strives for them, and he believes he can make the world a better place. That, in itself, is optimistic.

14. Are they introverted or extroverted?

He is extremely extroverted. He loves talking to strangers, loves making friends, and he’s incredibly good at both.

15. What are their pet peeves?

Materialism, people who have the means to help others but don’t, bragging, closed-minded people, badly crafted vehicles and roofs, people who neglect their animals, when his nails get too long, geese.

16. What bad habits do they have?

He does everything loudly: yawning, chewing, talking. He bites his nails. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve and puts his elbows on tables. He tries extremely hard to be liked. He works himself half to death. He has a self-doubt so deep that he overcompensates with false confidence and claims that he’s invincible, when in reality he’s just not terribly afraid of injury or death.

17. Do they have any phobias?

Avriel is claustrophobic, and though he has no traceable reason for this fear he has panic attacks when faced with small and enclosed spaces.

18. How do they display affection?

Avi is very casually physically affectionate with those he cares about. He loves hugs, but more often than hugging he doles out shoulder-squeezes and hair tussles. He also believes strongly in acts of service. Rather than telling people directly how he feels, because it can be difficult for him to articulate his own emotions, he’ll do something practical to help his loved ones. That, or he’ll gift them something small but thoughtful, like the pigments his mother used to bring him from her travels.

19. How competitive are they?

He’s mostly competitive with himself. He doesn’t do much of anything to prove anything to anyone else, or to try and be better than anyone else. However, he’s always competing against his own image of himself and trying to improve in a way that’s often detrimental.

20. If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?

He’d make himself more powerful, more capable so it could be easier to make big changes quickly.

21. Do they have any obscure hobbies or routines?

Avi loves to paint, and is pretty good at it. He often paints little poems or sayings in the corners of his paintings to add a bit of a story to them. He also likes to whittle, and though he’s not great at it and has acquired a few scars, it’s a great way to fill his mornings and downtimes.

He still wakes at the crack of dawn no matter what. Without animals or crops to tend to, however, most of his mornings are freed up, so he spends that time wandering the streets and watching the sunset if he doesn’t have to report to his general.

BACKSTORY -

22. What are the names and ages of their close family members? Parents, siblings, etc.

Orion and Immra Glynwarren are 62 and 60 years old respectively. His brother, Efrain, is 37.

23. Is their family alive and are they still in contact with them?

Avi’s parents are alive and well, and he is in contact with them often. His parents remain supportive even though he’s sure they question the path he’s taken and worry about him a fair bit. He stays with his brother every time he’s in Khaggon. They’ve only known each other a couple of months but are very much in contact.

24. Where are they from? City, nation?

He is from a small, tight-knit farming village in Anari named Corduff.

25. Did they have a childhood best friend?

Avi’s best friend growing up and to this day is a halfling named Quoric who he met in grade school. Quoric ended up working for Avriel on his farm as they got older, and is one of the most brutally honest people he has in his life. Avi had a lot of great friendships in his village, and quite honestly was a prized member of the community, but Quoric has always been the most loyal and genuine.

26. Have they had any pets?

Plenty. He loves animals, and would have given his life to save his. He owned all sorts of farm animals for the purpose of selling their product, but he genuinely cared for them and treated them well. He also had several cats and a cattle dog at the time he left Anari, but wasn’t able to bring any of them along. Currently, his parents have an Irish Wolfhound named Ehno and he, of course, acts as though his brother’s cat Weasel is his.

27. Did they grow up rich or poor? What were their living conditions like?

Avriel grew up in a very small home that his father made beautiful, not necessarily with monetary things but with art and craftsmanship. When he was young, Avi aware that he was poor, because he never went hungry and he always had a roof over his head. However, he realized at a fairly young age that his parents spent all their time and energy on providing for him and had no time for anything else, so he became a farmhand to help them. After inheriting the farm around age eighteen, Avi made a modest profit from his land and lived more comfortably than he had growing up. He was never rich, but he made a name for himself as a great farmer and had enough to provide for his parents and his employees.

28. What is their educational background?

Avi went to grade school, and then was homeschooled by his father for three years, and then got much too busy with work.

29. As a child, what did they want to be when they grew up?

He once heard a story about a knight who single handedly freed all the slaves in a kingdom through cunning and wit and bravery, and that was all he wanted to be. Not just a knight, but a hero - cunning and witty and brave. Realistically, though, he settled on being a farmer.

30. What advice would they give to their younger self?

He would tell himself to never limit himself to the confines of normality. Just because the average person in his town was a farmer didn’t mean he had to be a farmer. Normal works just fine for most people, but he’d tell himself not to strive to be like most people.

31. Growing up, were they ever bullied or were they the bully?

Neither, really. Socially, Avriel had a very easy time as a child.

32. Who do they look up to/who is their role model?

His mother, for her bravery and adventurous nature and his father, for his idealism and kindness.

PRESENT -

33. Do they currently have a place of residence?

He has a room at the Crayhorn Estate, but travels often with Rolland’s army.

34. What is their most treasured possession?

He travels with the painting his father made him for his last birthday. It’s a scene of a phoenix flying above farmland. When he travels back home and has a more permanent place of residency in Khaggon, he plans to bring more of the painting his father made with him. He has one from every birthday since his first.

35. What is their drink of choice?

Whiskey.

36. Which king/queen are they loyal to, if any?

Right now his loyalty lies with King Rolland because he seems to need his help the most, though Queen Kaylynn will always have a piece of his loyalty.

37. Have they ever killed anyone?

Yes, but only recently after joining the army. Though he feels some guilt, he knows the people he kills have ill-will for him and everything he stands for, and he knows he stands for good. That being said, no good person can rest easily having seen someone die by their hand, so he prays to make himself feel better.

38. What was their last promise and did they keep it?

His last promise, and the promise he’s been giving to his parents since he left a year ago, was that he will return safely someday with stories that will make them proud. It’s too soon to say if he’s kept it or not, but he’s entirely convinced that he will and already has plans of visiting.

LOVE -

39. What was their first kiss like, if they’ve had one?

When he was fifteen, Avriel had his first kiss with a village girl under a cottonwood tree. He sneezed in her face afterward. They continued to date for months. The entire relationship was awkward and uncomfortable.

40. Are they in a relationship/have a love interest?

Avriel is single, and mingling. Currently, he’s getting to know Thea’s brother, Ewin.

41. Have they ever been in love?

Avi has never been in love, but he certainly thought he was. And, truly, he loved Ione - he still does. He knows the deepest parts of her and accepts every part. Avi didn’t know that platonic love could be that raw and consuming because no one had ever told him it could. He was told fanciful stories of true loves and soulmates and meant-to-bes, but he was never told stories of finding home in someone who you were not in love with, but who meant just as much to you. So while he’s never been in love in the way most people mean it when they ask, he’s never really missed the feeling.

42. Have they ever had their heart broken?

Yes, but not by somebody else. Avriel broke his own heart. He’s heartbroken over leaving Ione, over taking her for granted. He regrets always wanting something more and feeling loss because the romance wasn’t there, never fully appreciating that she was his comfort and his home. He left her to better the world - for the greater good - but he knows he broke her heart and that breaks his. He wishes he could turn back time and stop himself from trying so hard to force their love to be something from a fairytale. He wishes he’d never tried to convince her that he was someone she could settle down and have a family with.

SPIRITUALITY -

43. Do they follow a god, if so who?

Avi follows Melora, the goddess of the wilderness and the sea. His mother is a ranger, and Melora always keeps her safe. Because of the wilderness of his powers and the storms that fester around him, he prays for her to keep him safe, too. Though she’s the only god he follows, he believes all gods have validity and is interested to learn more about others’ religions.

44. What do they think happens to them after death?

He believes he will return to nature, become dirt in the ground and renew everything that has renewed him. He doesn’t really wish for consciousness after death, and is comfortable with the finality of it if he’s achieved everything he set out to achieve and can return to nature after it’s all said and done.

45. What is their spirit animal?

A lion.

#romtask #romtask 001 #abt #about #( i know i didn't do one for kit yet im trash i just needed to get in his headspace a bit and this helped me get to know him a lot )

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ninzied · 6 years ago

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christmas rose [for oq advent]

In the weeks leading up to her first Christmas without Henry, someone starts to leave Regina a small gift each day, marking her very own advent. Missing Year. Written for @onceuponanadvent. Many thanks to @loveexpelrevolt for the idea and all the gift brainstorming. ffn | ao3 | advent site

It was shaping up to be a pretty dismal winter, here in the Enchanted Forest.

Autumn had breezed by without much of its usual fuss – the leaves had still changed, but the pumpkins had not made a great showing this year, and besides that castle morale had reached an exceptional low. All Hallows’ Eve had been a muted affair, and by the time Thanksgiving came around, even Snow White couldn’t muster the strength to explain what pilgrims were or why they deserved celebration.

Not that Regina complained.

She was in fact perfectly content with the lack of fanfare, and kept to herself on the holidays without much objection from Snow, quietly missing her Henry and hoping that somewhere, worlds away from this one, he was not missing a thing.

Regina emerged from her quarters only when needed; she strongly suspected that Snow would make a scene if she missed any mealtimes, and apart from that there were more general matters of upkeep to tend to, witchly plotting to thwart, and the occasional date with a boy on the hunt for some new books in her library.

But as the air thinned to below-freezing temperatures, her mood seemed to plummet along with it – not on account of the cold, but the spirited fervor it seemed to revive in just about everyone else. The thief and his Merry Men were certainly living up to their name; they’d made themselves quite comfortable here in her castle, and when Snow snapped out of her own doom-and-gloom to suggest a midwinter ball of all things, they were the first to chime in their agreement.

“What do you say, Regina?” Snow rounded on her with a beaming expression, trapping her there as everyone else did the same.

Well, everyone minus the thief, that is, who had an ear bent toward Leroy right next to him. They were whispering cheerfully – snippets of “Hey, I’ve got the beard” and “My boy would adore that” filtering over – and the fire that had been building inside of Regina was abruptly snuffed out.

“It sounds like it’s already been decided,” she said rather stiffly, and then, before Snow’s smile could grow even terribly wider, she leaned to cut in, “Do enjoy your little party.”

The whispering stopped, to her grim satisfaction, and she swept from the table, half-waiting to hear someone protest before stalking her way toward the door.

She could feel their eyes on her – how freely they looked, now that she had her back turned – and she told herself not to regret it, one bit, as she let the door slam shut behind her.

…

The preparations were already well underway the following morning, the entire castle coming alive with the thought of a break from routine. Even her presence did little to discourage their good mood, and she soon began to think rather bitterly back to a time when a well-placed glare would be enough to send a man scurrying the other direction. Now, as it was, even the dwarves had grown fearless, practically tripping over her in their rush to festoon every bare inch of wall, until she finally threatened to step on one of them.

Still, brightly glinting baubles managed to find their way up to the darkmost ceilings of her castle, green things sprouting up everywhere she turned until she thought they may as well be living in the damn forest itself.

She burned incense regularly, smoking up the hallways and alarming passersby, but try as she might, she could not get rid of that smell of pine.

And she didn’t have to look far to know who to blame.

Every morning like clockwork, the thief Robin Hood would come strolling indoors with a fresh haul of boughs or split logs for the fire, the occasional dusting of snow on his cloak. His men were never far behind him, traipsing inside and dragging their filth around her foyer as she stood disapprovingly off to one side.

“What a magnificent tree, don’t you think?” Snow said beside her one morning, as if one stupid tree could really look all that different. Before Regina could point out as out as much, Snow carried on, her gaze still trained on the thief, “You have such a good eye, my friend!”

“Your Highness,” he grinned, in a way that made Regina feel strangely irate. “I did have my orders, after all.”

“She has you earning your keep, then, I take it?” questioned Regina, and Snow turned to stare at her, looking faintly mortified.

“Your Majesty,” said the thief, with a slight bow of his head. His smile seemed to lose a bit of its brightness, though he sounded friendly enough as he told her, “My men and I prefer to make ourselves useful.”

“Then perhaps you could start now,” she returned, “by learning to close the door on your way back out? You’re letting in a draft.”

The thief opened his mouth to respond, but she gave a wave of her hand to dismiss him, already half-turning to be on her way.

“She appears to be fond of making these exits,” she overheard the thief saying, and then Snow rushing to make her apologies, as Regina strode off with her hands clasped tightly together.

…

As the days got progressively shorter and darker, the castle only seemed to grow bigger and brighter, as though it had awoken from a deep slumber. Regina hardly recognized parts of it anymore, and so took to her more private haunts, the ones that hadn’t yet been discovered by some nosy thief and then strung up with garland and bows.

It was during one of these walks, in a small wraparound garden overlooking the forest below, that she found the first gift – at least, she assumed it was intended as such. There on a round marble stand, half-tucked away by some overgrown vines, sat a pair of thick woolen mittens. They were a muted taupe color, but when Regina bent closer, she could see thin threads of purple woven delicately into the yarn.

For a moment she thought they must have been dropped here by Snow, lying forgotten while the Princess went trolling about where she was not welcome. But there was something about the way they were folded, one angled primly on top of the other, that looked altogether too, well, arranged to have been left there by accident.

This somehow infuriated Regina even more than the thought of Snow simply nosing around without any purpose at all, and she promptly flung the mittens back down, vowing to make that the last word on the matter.

If Snow White thought she could shame her for how she’d behaved around Robin that day, well, then Regina was more than ready to show her just how recalcitrant she could be.

The opportunity presented itself even sooner than she’d expected as she thought to stroll past the front doors, where Snow – bundled up in thick furs and a matching hand muff – was greeting the men just returned from a hunt.

“Oh, you boys, I can’t wait to tell Granny!” Snow was exclaiming as Regina made to approach them. “I know just the thing that will go with the rabbit stew we’re having tonight, thanks to all of you.”

Regina noted, with an almost absurd satisfaction, that the thief had hung slightly back from the others, nudging the door closed and fastening all of the locks into place.

“Oh, Regina,” Snow turned on her next, mildly scolding as she took in Regina’s bare hands, her neck exposed to the elements. “You must be freezing.” She gave her a too-knowing look, and received only a bland sort of smile in return.

“Not at all.”

The thief had ambled over to them, nodding toward Regina when she deigned to look in his direction. “Your Majesty,” he greeted her warmly, as if he might think that he’d finally caught her in the right mood. “I hope you find everything is to your liking.”

“It will have to do,” she replied, then added an offhand, “I suppose that roast boar would have been far too much trouble,” earning another grave look from Snow.

“Rabbit happens to be Roland’s favorite,” the thief told her pleasantly, not missing a beat. “But I’ll keep your suggestions in mind the next time we’ve gone out.”

“Well I, for one, think it’s finally starting to feel something like Christmas,” declared Snow, removing a hand from her muff and linking it around Robin’s arm. She pulled him forward, and he went along with a smile, patting an affectionate hand over hers as she called back over her shoulder, “See you at dinner, Regina.”

The two of them walked on without so much as another glance, leaving Regina to fume silently behind them and wonder how she could have possibly been so lucky as to be stuck with them both.

…

It was another several days before Regina thought to venture back up to that balcony garden. She’d half-expected the mittens to have made a quiet exit, leaving no trace that they’d ever been there. This is what she told herself, at least; the truth was that she didn’t know what she expected at all, or why she even bothered except for some darkly unshakable impulse to find out.

The mittens were indeed where she’d left them, but they were not alone this time. A small assortment of things had squeezed their way onto the table, and Regina could only stand there a moment, too taken aback to know where to look first.

She finally picked up what looked to be a candle, resting beside one of the mittens. It was small and squat, and a bit roughly shaped overall, but finely carved around the sides, with a trellis of ivy and bluebells that bore a striking resemblance to the very garden she stood in.

None of this made any sense, thought Regina. She knew Snow must have picked up some hobbies, during her banditry days, but this…

This felt like something else, and when she touched her nose to the tip of the candle, and breathed in the scent of spices and pine, her heart did a strange little knock in her chest.

Her hand moved with a will of its own, touching a dark lump of some soft material that had been rolled up and placed just next to the candle. Slowly, she let it unravel, trailing her fingers down each side as it opened, the butter-smooth leather on one, silky white rabbit fur on the other.

On either end of the pelt, a knobby little button and a loop of beige leather had been sewn into place. Fastened together, it would have warmed her neck perfectly.

She dropped her hand away.

Feeling peculiar, Regina took a step back and glanced all around her, as if the bearer of these small offerings might have thought to linger until she arrived. She stared hard into the growing twilight, but not even her garden had stirred while she’d been here, and she knew that she was alone.

There was something else – something feathery and dark near her feet that she must have brushed aside in her study of the rabbit fur, but this was all too much, these…things that she’d neither asked for nor wanted, and she jerked away like it had burned her.

Regina descended the stairs, spiraling down toward the main halls of the castle. There would be gathering of sorts in the drawing room by now, where people tended to go for a drink in the evenings, and she veered a sharp right, meaning to give it as wide a berth as she could.

Before she’d reached the end of the corridor, she heard the door open, and a distant but unmistakable voice calling out over the din of the room, “I’ll grab the next round – do try to hold it together while I’m gone, yeah?”

Something froze Regina in place, and she turned to look back before she could help it. The thief had shut the door behind him and was heading in her direction now, gaze still lowered while he chuckled to himself.

She noticed the moment he sensed her, the alertness gripping his body before his eyes lifted to hers, surprise overtaking his features as he slowed to a stop some feet in front of her.

“Your Majesty,” he said, recovering the next second, and perhaps it was the ease with which he smiled at her now, or that he’d no doubt been on his way to her wine cellar, but the confusion she’d been battling with quickly submitted to ire.

“What do you want?” she asked brusquely, as if he hadn’t been the one to find her just standing there waiting for something.

He seemed to tense ever so slightly before relaxing again, though there was a hint of dryness to his tone when he shrugged and replied, “I was about to ask if you’d like to join us, but I suppose you’ve already given your answer.”

Regina found she couldn’t look him in the eye anymore, all that blue in the candlelight, in this hallway that suddenly felt ten sizes too small. “I have a spell to work on,” she told him thinly, examining her arm for stray bits of lint.

“Ah,” he said, looking far more understanding than he had any right to with her. “Yes, Belle had mentioned—”

“How nice,” Regina cut in, but it lacked any of her usual bite, sounding flat as it devolved into silence, and why was he still smiling at her? “If you’ll excuse me…”

She turned to go, but didn’t hear his own footsteps resume like she’d expected, and she could feel his eyes on her still, her whole body stiffening as if that could keep him from seeing things she didn’t want him to see.

He was proving to be quite resourceful, this thief of Locksley.

Finally, he called after her, “I don’t believe that was a no, Your Majesty.”

Regina half-turned her head over her shoulder, startled. “What?”

“To a drink.” She could hear the smile in his voice growing wider. “Tomorrow, perhaps?”

She’d paused too long to effectively discourage this new line of questioning, and they both knew it, though Regina refused to give him the full satisfaction of seeing it written all over her face. “Good night, thief,” she said curtly, gathering her skirts with a flourish and trying not to think about how she’d never noticed the way his eyes crinkled to look at her before.

…

It was needless and entirely foolish of her, but the following day she couldn’t escape the thought of that now not-so-secret garden in her balcony, and what else she might come across if she just so happened to find herself up there again.

But Regina couldn’t risk anyone seeing where she was headed, so she opted to travel by magic this time, purple smoke carrying her straight there from her chambers. She was reaching for the latch on the door when she felt an odd fluttering in her chest, like something trying to break loose and take flight, and she was so struck by the absurdity of it that she almost poofed right back to her bedroom.

It turned out that she needn’t have concerned herself with being this careful – it didn’t appear that anyone else had been here since she had, everything looking untouched, the table just as she’d left it. The item she’d dropped the night before was some kind of quill, she thought, glancing over, trying to ignore how it looked slightly bent in the middle. She should at least put it back where it belonged…

But the longer Regina stood there the more ridiculous she felt, and it was such an unwelcome feeling to her that she walked briskly to the opposite end of her garden, snatched up a handful of calla lilies as if that was why she’d come here all along, and marched with purpose back through the door.

The ridiculous feeling refused to abate even after she’d gone, and with it grew a bizarre paranoia, everything seeming to catch her off guard. Gripping her lilies, she rounded a corner only to double back several steps when she heard someone approaching on the other side.

She blew out an exasperated sigh.

“Oh, aren’t those just lovely!” said Snow as she walked up to her. “I haven’t seen them growing around here in ages – where did you—” and Regina promptly deposited them into Snow’s arms with what she hoped would pass for a smile.

“I thought you might like them,” Regina said tersely. “A little pick-me-up while you handle your…burdens,” and she made a vague gesture at Snow’s pregnant belly.

The Princess looked genuinely touched, nose buried deep in her lilies, and Regina went on her way feeling somehow more irritated than ever.

To her absolute horror, Snow had arranged them as the centerpiece of their royal table that night at dinner, proudly announcing to anyone within earshot that Regina had selected them just for her.

There was only one other person who knew where the lilies had chosen to bloom that year.

But if the thief noticed (oh, who was she kidding?), he made no indication of it, his attention never straying from his own table.

His son was in the middle of telling some story, arms flapping wildly about as he stood on the bench and made as if to leap into flight. The thief was gazing warmly at him, dimples on full display, laughing outright when Roland gave a little jump and landed dramatically into his arms.

Regina forced her eyes away when Snow passed a full plate of food over to her, the scent of roast meat in the air.

She glanced down.

“Wow,” she heard Charming from two seats away, already slicing into his portion with gusto. “I can’t remember the last time we had wild boar. This is fantastic.”

It was a mistake to look back up. Her eyes met the thief’s across the hall, just as he was taking a sip from his goblet. He didn’t appear smug, or smirk at her like she’d expected him to as he raised his drink in her direction. The smile he gave her this time was a bit crooked, a bit shy, and she didn’t know what to do with him like this – or what to do with herself, for that matter – and so she could only look away again.

Regina stole from dinner early, before the plates had even cleared, with a hasty excuse to Snow about needing to follow up on some things in the library.

It was not exactly a lie; she’d hit a dead end in her spell books after exhausting her last stash of hellebore, but as Belle liked to say, there was always room for more learning. They’d been taking turns reading whatever they could about Oz in the meantime, and tonight in particular suddenly felt like the perfect moment to do so.

Belle herself was just returning from the washroom when Regina slipped out of the banquet hall.

“Off to the library?” she asked knowingly. “I’ll come join you soon.”

Regina waved her off. “There’s no sense in both of us letting a good evening go to waste.” She cleared her throat, hating how very transparent she sounded as she added a curt, “You should go have a drink with the others.”

“Are you sure?” Belle’s forehead creased at her. “Did you want to come? We could both use a break, I’m sure.”

Regina thought of a hearth draped in pine, warm cider, warm other things, and realized that she’d already made up her mind.

“You go,” she told Belle. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

…

She never knew what to expect anymore, as far as the thief was concerned.

But she had braced herself for whatever remarks he would make about her absence the previous evening, and so when they crossed paths around lunchtime, she turned on him, ready.

“Hullo,” he said cheerfully, no more than that, not even a customary nod to her title, and she was so thrown by the change that he’d already moved past her before it occurred to her that she hadn’t said anything at all.

She had destroyed men for much less.

But there was something about him that made her feel strangely unlike herself, and as he walked on there was another twinge in her chest, like he’d tethered her to him somehow, and this…this, she supposed, was a different kind of ruin.

By the time she arrived at the garden, the sun had already begun its descent, casting a welcome glow in the chill. She wandered toward the balcony rail for a moment, musing over the idea of him scaling up walls and firing arrows through open windows, swinging himself from ledge to ledge. It would have pleased him to know this, she thought, when he’d probably just taken the stairs.

He’d folded the neck warmer back up since she’d been here last, the tip of the quill now nestled safely inside the fur. Regina hesitated a split second before carefully pulling it out, examining the way that it bent at an unnatural angle, a flicker of shame running deeper than she would’ve cared to admit.

It was beautiful, the feather he’d chosen – a rich swirl of deep blues and greens, with a hint of purple down the middle, tapering down to a nicely shaped point. Magic pooled instinctively to her fingertips, and she itched to set it straight again, but that somehow felt wrong to her, almost offensive to try.

She curled her hand around the quill, pressing it gently over her chest as she turned to go.

Her breath caught when she saw it.

There by the doorway, ensconced in a bed of thick ivy, sat a small plant that couldn’t have grown there, with leathery leaves and blooming rose-like white petals, their edges tinged in pink. Thin black roots sprang out from a fresh clump of soil, clinging to the nearby stems of ivy.

Hellebore.

Regina had to refrain from rushing over too quickly, as if sudden movement might break the illusion, or cause the plant to go into hiding. It was not the same species her spell books typically called for – those were of a deeper hue, maroon or even darker – and this pleased her, that she had an excuse to simply let them grow.

She used her magic this time, gingerly extracting the roots and potting them into a warmed handful of air. The flowers seemed to wave at her in the breeze, the pink in them flushing prettily when she touched her finger to the petals.

She knew the perfect place for it, in her bedchambers, and she swept down the stairs with her new plant bobbing gently through the air in front of her.

A curious warmth had settled into her body, but she chose not to question it any longer, hardly even caring that someone might spot her absconding with such a lovely thing.

—but no, she told herself firmly, one couldn’t steal what one had been given, and this was quite possibly the most thoughtful gift she’d ever received.

…

He seemed to know her and her preferences so well, and up until now he had never been far from view either, so long as it inconvenienced her in some way; but once Regina determined that she wanted to be found for a change, he proved to be just as elusive as his fairy tale reputation implied.

As far as she could tell, he paid his visits to their garden at an arbitrary time each day. If he did this to avoid any run-in with her, he was more than successful, and short of installing some magical sensor she doubted she could catch him there.

At mealtimes, he was either with Roland or the rest of his men, and she could not figure out how to approach him this way; whatever this was between them felt too new and uncertain, like the smallest thing might break it before it had even begun.

Meanwhile, he didn’t stop leaving her gifts here and there – medicinal herbs, some other ingredients she’d run low on (Belle must have been feeding him intel, she thought), a handful of apples he’d somehow procured when even her tree had stopped bearing fruit for the season.

She accepted his offerings in secret, though never more than a few at a time. The rabbit fur warmer came with her last, and she tried it on once in front of her mirror, sighing into its warmth for one indulgent moment before tucking it into a drawer with the mittens.

Each time she saw him it was as though she’d never truly seen him until then, the way he bit his lip sometimes when he smiled, a new sound his laugh made, how blue his eyes looked no matter the lighting.

In her distraction, she’d let Snow rope her into supervising the last of their preparations for winter solstice, a towering fir that was to go in the middle of the ballroom. It had taken all the thief’s men to haul it inside, though not without several missteps that might have ended badly for them, had Regina not intervened with a few discreet waves of her hand.

She was still glowering when the thief ambled by.

“Your Majesty,” he said with a perfectly straight face, clearly making an effort not to worsen her mood.

“Thief,” she returned, heart thundering madly. Everyone else was still happily preoccupied, carting in things for the tree, and this was perhaps the only chance she would have to get him alone before the ball.

He saw her gaze sweep over the room and gave her a lopsided smile. “Excited for the festivities, I take it?”

Their eyes met. “I hadn’t planned on going,” she told him carefully, watching his face for a reaction.

He took a step closer.

“I see.” He looked gravely serious, like he wanted to say something more but hadn’t quite found the right words, and then John was calling for him, requesting his assistance on some matter regarding the tree.

Regina released the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, feeling the moment slip away.

But Robin seemed remiss to go, stalling another few seconds to simply gaze down at her, eyes warm and terribly endless, and she wondered what he saw in her, how he had never looked at her any other way.

“I should…” He cleared his throat, raising a placating hand in John’s direction, and then excused himself with a bow of his head. “Your Majesty,” he murmured, so low she wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it, but the words sank into her like a gentle caress, and nothing had ever made her feel this warm, so warm, before.

…

She could hear the music from the ballroom very distantly from her perch in the garden, the lively instrumentals, the rise and fall of Snow’s makeshift choir. The dancing would have begun by now, after that extravagant feast had time to settle.

Snow, thankfully, had been dragged away from dinner early to mediate a dispute between her two lead sopranos. Regina had snuck off without any trouble, Charming electing to look the other way as she passed him; and then, just for good measure, she’d sent a little spell over to Leroy, who was red-faced from too much mead and loudly insisting that Friar Tuck’s range made him more of an alto, really.

He erupted into a coughing fit, demanding in between breaths for a lozenge and a tall glass of water, and Regina was able to make her escape unnoticed.

Now, she sat at the very edge of a bench in her garden, hidden behind the flowering lilies, and she waited.

He hadn’t left her any gifts today, not that she’d expected him to. Snow had kept him busy all afternoon with last-minute details, and he had no reason not to attend the party himself, to drink hot chocolate with his boy and twirl him around in a dance while they caroled.

In another world, she thought, another boy would have told her that she deserved happiness, too.

She didn’t hear him come in, but there was a change in the air, a sudden stillness to it that made her chest tighten as she glanced over and saw him.

He was standing by the round stone table, where two empty glass tumblers awaited, an unopened bottle of whiskey beside them.

Regina stood. “You came.”

“Milady.” He lifted his gaze to hers, and the look in his eyes nearly took her breath away. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He smiled at her as she came over to him, shyness or something like it making her feel as though they were both in slow motion. “I apologize that I couldn’t make it sooner; Roland was a bit resistant toward his usual bedtime.”

“With good reason, of course,” she said.

“Indeed.” He gestured back toward the table, voice going soft. “What’s all this?”

“I…believe I owed you a drink.”

His smile spread, dimples deepening at her. “That you did. May I?” He reached past her, brushing their arms together as he picked up the bottle and pulled out its stopper. He worked slowly, intently, and she tried not to breathe in too deeply when he leaned back to hand her a glass. “Cheers.”

She clinked her glass with his, but neither of them drank. It was hard to get her body to cooperate at all, not with him standing this close to her.

“Speaking of which, Roland quite enjoyed his chocolate beverage.”

Regina swallowed around a sudden lump in her throat. “I’m glad.”

“The, uh, cinnamon. It was a nice touch.”

She blinked and had to look away for a moment. “An old family recipe.” Her voice tried to crack, eyes burning, but then everything seemed to right itself again, feeling uncommonly steady, and she realized he’d set their glasses back down and taken her hands into his.

“Your hands are like ice,” he murmured, closing his more firmly around them. She almost shivered into the warmth, thinking that she hadn’t known to mind the cold until now. “So – just to be clear—” and there was a teasing glint to his tone this time, “Of all the gifts you thought to claim first, you chose a weed—”

“It’s not a weed.”

“—and a broken quill.”

“It writes perfectly well,” she told him.

“I could mend it for you.” He rested their hands to his chest, coaxing her forward just slightly. She was much too warm now to even think about how she’d ever stood for anything less. “Or make you a new one.”

Regina curled her fingers into his tunic, offering a demure, “I suppose I wouldn’t say no,” feeling the way his chest rumbled with laughter.

“Have you tried the candle yet?”

She shook her head. It had seemed a waste, to let it burn.

“Well,” he said, shifting over her a little, “should you ever choose to light it, you may find it has an interesting way of masking its own scent, and that of its surroundings. Quite handy when you’re on the run…or perhaps tired of your castle smelling like it’s gone a bit wild.”

Regina straightened and said, very primly, “I don’t know what gave you the impression that I would ever want a candle like that.”

He released her hand for a moment, brushing back a lock of her hair. His touch lingered, and she leaned into his palm, feeling dizzy and so unbearably light.

“So what did you bring me today, thief?”

“Well, since you’ve been averse to wearing the things that I made you…” He grinned, and she couldn’t help it, reaching up to rest her fingers on his jawline, learning the feel his stubble, the way his dimples moved when he bit his lower lip at her. “I thought I might try to find some new way of keeping you warm.”

She wanted to tell him that he already had, but instead she stretched onto her toes, and she kissed him.

It was brief but full of promise, and she rocked back onto her heels, feeling breathless. His lips were parted, gaze heavy with want when she opened her eyes, and all she could do was sigh into him as he gathered her up and kissed her again.

His hand moved through her hair, cupping the back of her neck and angling her closer. His mouth was warm and inviting, moving together with hers in a tangle of heat and tongue. She stretched her body up against his, feeling his weight, his warmth, his arms closing around her and holding her to him.

Everything tingled, where they pressed together, and she was more than lightheaded when they parted again, his forehead coming to rest against hers as they breathed each other in. But her hands would not still, wanting to touch him, to wander up his chest and his shoulders, finally reaching the sides of his neck. He nudged the tip of his nose to her cheek, the world slowing again, and she stole another kiss from him, softer this time, lips parting and brushing back and forth without fully settling back together.

His arms around her tightened, a kiss finding its way to her temple as he rasped into her ear, “I ought to head back soon, in case he wakes up.”

“Mm.” She didn’t trust herself to speak quite yet, her whole body still alight with the need to kiss him like she might not get the chance to tomorrow.

“Could I perhaps…” he leaned back with a mischievous quirk of his eyebrows, looking quite boyish as he asked her, “accompany you on the walk to your room, milady?”

She couldn’t hide her surprise even if she’d wanted to. “I’m not stopping you,” she said, watching the way his everything seemed to transform in the warmth of his smile, and she marveled that this was all for her, that this was what he wanted too, and oh if this feeling didn’t destroy her, she knew it was certainly going to try.

He pressed one last kiss to her lips and released her, wrapping an arm around her waist as they walked.

“We’ll have to come back for that drink,” he said, and Regina turned into him, touching her hand to his chest for a moment.

“Tomorrow sounds good to me.”

He tugged her back in, both of them smiling into the kiss now, and at this rate, if it took them all night to make it where they were going, she would not mind it at all.

…

“How was the rest of your night, Regina?”

She almost choked on her eggs, taking a liberal swallow of coffee before she was able to get any words out. “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t see you at the ball,” said Snow. “I hope you were feeling all right.”

“Just fine,” Regina told her firmly. “I’d told you I wasn’t going to go.” She tried not to let her gaze wander too obviously toward a certain table in the back, focusing instead on spearing up another bite of potato.

“I know, but…” Snow’s tone dropped to something suspiciously covert. “I thought maybe someone would have convinced you to change your mind.”

Horrified, Regina nearly dropped her fork before deciding altogether it was too dangerous to try eating anymore, with Snow so determined to keep talking to her. She took a measured sip of her coffee, and said as flatly as she could manage, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Snow seemed willing to drop it for the time being, and Regina let herself relax into her coffee again, stealing another glance between sips. Robin looked just as focused on his own breakfast, but she caught him smiling to himself on more than one occasion, and she couldn’t help but look shyly away each time she felt his gaze flick over to her again.

She touched her hair without thinking, curling the ends behind her ear, fingertips grazing the fur at her neck.

“That scarf looks warm,” Snow remarked, something intentional about the bland way she said it.

Regina almost took her hand away, but she pushed back the instinct, toying with the Christmas rose she’d pinned to its side that morning. “It is.”

“That’s wonderful,” said Snow.

Their eyes met for a moment, and for the first time that winter, Regina felt, truly, that wonderful was just the beginning.

#outlaw queen #oq ff #oq fic #missing year #oq advent 2018 #my scribbles

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badwolf-in-the-impala · 6 years ago

Text

~The Cripple & The Bastard~

~Chapter 5: Absence~

Previous Parts: (( Ch.1 - Ch.2 - Ch.3 - Ch.4 - Ch.5 - Ch.6 ))

Image Credit: Myself - badwolf-in-the-impala

Pairings: Ivar the Boneless X OFC

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Verbal/physical abuse, violence, kidnapping, scars, sexual content.

Chapter Warnings: Kinda angsty

A/N: Thank you as always for being so awesome! Your guys’ comments always brighten my day <3 If you would like to be added to the TAGLIST, or if I missed tagging someone, feel free to let me know!

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"But why can I not go outside?!" Yara all but whined like a needy a child as she sat up straight in the chair, pulling her shirt over her head and clutching it cover her breasts as Helga applied a salve to the scabbed over wounds on her back.

"I have been locked up for weeks...I am starting to go mad!" She added, eyes transfixed on the open window. Watching as the leaves on the trees swayed back and forth gently; reminding her of the Raven from her dream that beckoned her to come closer.

It had been more than a week since Ivar brought her here, and she hadn't been allowed to venture more than a few steps from the bed. Being caged up like an animal, it was driving her to the verge of insanity. To make matters worse, Ivar had been absent for the past two days, leaving her to the musings of the madman, slash, boat builder, Floki. Who could not stop asking her questions about her dream.

"Your wounds are healing nicely, but there is still chance they could break open and become inflamed with fever again." Helga replied with a sigh. Obviously having grown tired of hearing the young woman ask the same question over and over. "But," She added, watching as Yara turned her head with hopeful green eyes.

"If you promise to be careful, I will let you go. Floki could use some help today anyways, and I must go to the village to restock some supplies." Her hands were careful as she smoothed the cloth over Yara's skin to keep the wounds covered underneath her shirt.

"I promise!" Yara got out in rush as she yanked the shirt back over her head with one graceful motion. Making sure to grab the cloak for good measure before hurrying out the door, afraid Helga might change her mind. But that wasn't the case as she walked through the woods, just a ways beyond the small home of Floki the boat builder and his wife. Stumbling upon where the boat builder did most of his work.

Welcoming the light breeze that kissed her skin as she took a seat beneath a massive tree, welcoming the task of handing Floki tools whenever he asked. The man explaining in great detail what he was doing and why as she watched with curiosity as he worked with such ease. Answering the occasional questions he would ask about blacksmithing, questioning her own skills before finally seeming satisfied with his findings.

"There is something that I wish to build." The man never turned his attention from his work as he spoke to her. "It is for Ivar." A faint tinge of heat rose to the tips of her ears at the mention of his name, but she kept her attention on what the boat builder had to say.

"In a few months time, they will be making the journey to Wessex to raid. Ivar has inquired of a way to help him fight alongside his father and brothers...I have an idea, but I could use someone of your skill to help me. If you should find yourself interested?"

"Why not ask my father?" Yara replied, skeptical of why he would ask her when her fathers work was far greater. Floki chuckled at the look of confusing that must have been evident in her features. He paused in his work and came to kneel in front of her, pulling a dagger from his belt, he held it out for her to inspect.

"This is your work, is it not?" He asked.

Yara recognized it immediately as one of the daggers she had made before their arrival. They were gifts for Ragnar, his sons, and whomever else he chose. A small smile crept onto her lips as she admired the detail before handing it back with a nodd.

"Yes." She answered truthfully. Even though her father had originally taken credit for the craftsmanship. "But again, I must ask, why me?"

"It is simple." Floki replied with a smile. "You take pride in your work, but you are honest about it. Your father, while a wretched man, has skill. But his work is rushed. There is no passion in it...but this," He held up the dagger once more.

"This is passion. You love what you do, just as I love what I do." He motioned to the boat that sat behind him. "Passion makes all the difference." Yara blushed noticeably -- never before had anyone truly admired her work -- earning her another laugh from the boat builder as he stood, ruffling her hair affectionately while she glared back playfully.

"You are far to humble for your own good; little green eyed Wolf."

"If you can get me what I need, without my father becoming suspicious, I would be glad to help with whatever you need." Yara spoke, rolling her eyes at the new name he'd so affectionately taken to calling her.

"Already done." Her eyes widened in surprise as he uncovered the small makeshift Forge he had built for her to use.

"How were you so sure that I would agree to help you?" She asked, narrowing her eyes skeptically as she watched the cat like grin return to the mans face.

"It is for Ivar." He stated. "I knew you would not refuse."

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Yara's annoyance at Ivar's absence grew with each passing day. Having taken to spending her time helping Floki work on the boats, as well at the other project she had promised to help him with. Taking in every bit of knowledge he had to offer her as they worked. She enjoyed the change of pace. It was drastically different from what she was used to, but it was nice nevertheless.

She had always been eager to learn new things, but her father had never allowed it. Stating that Smithing was all she ever need to know in her life. Chastising her harshly when she would display new techniques picked up by watching other Blacksmiths who passed through down at the forge. But working with Floki was actually, enjoyable; and when he had nothing for her to work on, she took to helping Helga around their home.

Learning the basics and enjoying simple things like how to tend a garden, or forage for herbs and learning the different healing properties they possessed; to how to keep a home. All the things that she had been starved of as a young girl, as she had no mother to teach her. But Helga was more than willing. Yara having learned that they had lost their own daughter, and it made Floki happy to see his wife so happy again.

The day had grown late, and Yara had been busying herself with hanging herbs with Helga outside the small house to dry, when the familiar sound of someone approaching caught her attention. Both women pausing to turn, watching as Floki came up the walk, Ivar clinging to his back; both laughing loudly about something as they walked inside.

Anger knotting itself into a fist in the depths of Yara's stomach at the sight of the youngest Lothbrok boy. Remembering what she had thought was concern when he'd brought her to Floki and Helga; but then disappearing without so much as word the second she was better. It was something that shouldn't have really bothered her, but it did. The very sight of him making her want to slap some form of sense into that stupid head of his...

As she entered the house behind Helga, Yara growled lowly in annoyance as she observed how he acted as though nothing had changed. Like his absence hadn't somehow affected her, and meant nothing. She didn't know what sort of game he was getting at, but it was wearing on her final nerve. Not that she didn't enjoy the company of Helga and Floki, but she had been cooped up for to long. Maybe she had assumed to quickly that there had been some kind of friendship forming.

"It is nice to see you are finally feeling better." Ivar's voice broke her away from her thoughts just long enough for her to shoot him an icy glare. The look only seeming to amuse him further. Yara choosing to excuse herself as she disappeared back outside to put her tools away for the day, taking a seat down by the water when she was finished. Throwing rocks across the surface in an attempt to sooth her temper. Only finding herself to be growing more agitated, every thought somehow turning to Ivar and how his very presence seemed to hold so much power over her and her feelings. It was beyond frustrating.

Despite the darkness, she could still make out his features as he took a seat beside her, adjusting his legs before leaning back comfortably as he watched her intently. Noting that she knew he was there, but chose to ignore him in such a manner that made him stifle a laugh.

"What!?" She finally snapped, turning her fiery green gaze to meet his as he simply shook his head with an amused grin.

"You have quiet a temper for a woman, you know that?" He stated, turning his gaze away to the water. "Preparations for Wessex are well underway..." He continued to speak when he didn't get any kind of response out of her.

"Planning has not only taken up much of my own time, but your fathers as well. He has not been pleased with your disappearance...my father is doing what he can to keep him distracted, but it is not going to last much longer."

"If you had left me alone in the first place, this wouldn't be a problem." Yara snapped.

"If I had left you alone, you would be dead." Ivar stated with a frown, noting how the thought didn't seem to phase her in the slightest. Making his stomach turn in an unpleasant manner.

"I promised I would not let any more harm come to you, did I not?" Yara shook her head stiffly in agreement. "And have I not kept good on that promise? It has been no simple task keeping him off your trail." He sighed in annoyance, his expression softening as he watched Yara pull her knees to her chest. Shifting his weight slightly, he moved to place his hand on her arm to gain her attention, noting how she tensed and shied away his touch seemingly out of habit.

"My father has asked that you accompany us to Wessex...until we can settle upon a more, permanent solution."

"The only permanent solution is either his death, or my marriage..." She snapped. "And I do not see many people lining up to marry the Blacksmiths bastard daughter." Ivar's frown deepened as he stared at her through the dark, watching her expression fall as what little hope she had left seemed to slip away.

"He will notice if I leave...he is not a fool."

Silence fell between them as Yara stared out over the water; Ivar's hand still resting on her arm, his gaze never leaving her face. Wondering how something that seemed so strong, could be so broken?

Someday that Blacksmith would pay for the pain he had caused her; Ivar would make sure of it. Her father treated her no better than a common slave when she deserved so much more out of life. Even more than he himself could ever give her...but Gods damn him if he wouldn't try!

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