#sabine tress

[cardiac-agreste]

normally i write people in pain, but i really wanted to get in on the loveybug action

I doff my hat to @blur0se, @asukiess, and @pisoprano for giving us this precious jewel, and then I'll return to making Sabine Cheng cry.

---

He’d told his new partner that the Arc de Triomphe would be an excellent regular meeting place for them to talk and recuperate. It had a broad, flat top for laying down. It was centrally located. It was also a tall landmark, which gave them the security of high ground. He’d presented his case, but given how much Ladybug had enjoyed the Iron Lady and Notre Dame, he underestimated how easy it would be to convince her replacement.

She had been effusive in her praise.

“A brilliant idea, Catwalker! It’s so energetic!” She flitted around the perimeter, drinking in the views from every corner as he stood behind, marveling at her passion.

“Shhh, listen to the cars.” She closed her eyes and swayed. Then she popped like a firework. “I love this city!!” she said as she threw her fist in the air in celebration.

When he landed atop their spot after a rough day with his father, he was bursting with joy. He got to see her again! And she wanted to see him, too! He rarely had people—

“My lord, you’re already here!”

Catwalker spun on his heel. She’d snuck up on him again! His eyes rolled up from the ground to her face, and his breath hitched. She, a being of pure light. She, zipping through space without a sound. She, illuminating everything in her path. A figure of tulle, of chiffon, of organza.

She skipped toward him and threw her arms wide for a hug. She leapt at him with a broad grin on her face. “I missed you!” she screamed right into his chest as he teetered back, whether from the force of her body or her joy. Her muffled voice vibrated as she nuzzled against him. He remembered a song he’d spent a summer playing on repeat, fantasizing about exactly this kind of girl. Careening through the universe, your axis on a tilt.

She danced back out of his reach and twirled on her heel, leaving a wisp of nutmeg and cloves behind. A hint of allspice. He could be all spice; could she? Settle down.

She took a deep breath and screamed to match the honking horns of evening traffic. “I feel alive!”

Loveybug, Loveybug, Loveybug.

When he’d met Ladybug, all knots and tangles and grit, he thought he understood what Keats meant by a steadfast, bright star. He thought she was his future. He thought many things. But she rejected him, and then she rejected him, and then she disappeared. Then so did he.

He’d met Loveybug as Chat Noir. She seemed happy to be around him, but starstruck, too. It was time for Chat Noir to fade away and pass on the mantle. Catwalker would mourn Chat Noir (and possibly Paris would!), but he needed a reset. He owed it to her, who entranced him effortlessly and shared her heart with him.

So here they were, beneath a night sky full of her blue eyes on a curtain of her black tresses. He spread his dreams beneath her feet and she came to him, treading softly. She lay her cheek against his chest. He rested his chin atop her head. And together they hummed a lullabye to old partners, and together they murmured a sonnet to new ones, and together they were together.

[a-m-w-worlds]

SSO Theory: The Secret Behind the Masks

"It looked like a mask. One of those old wooden ones with holes for the eyes." (Excerpt from Shari's Mask.)

The Miscreants might be the most famous mask-wearers in Jorvik, but have you noticed they aren't the only ones? The Miscreants, Xin, the Vala, Shari, even Pi in The Legend Awakens, so what's the deal with all these wooden masks?

I have a theory!

The only common denominator I can find between all these characters is neutrality. Not good, not evil, something in-between the two. Let's start with Shari, who is first mentioned in the Soul Riders short story collection Ghost Stories from Jorvik., in Alex's story, Shari's Mask. We don't learn much about Shari other than that she is referred to as a goddess and wears the Miscreant mask, as seen on the book's back cover and other illustrations.

According to the About section of the Miscreants page on Spotify the Miscreants styled the masks they wear after one found in a thrift store that likely either belonged to Shari or one of her followers.

The Miscreants are shown to be neutral troublemakers, in no way evil, but not saints either, also equally liked by Soul Riders AND Dark Riders. (Their song Face in the Crowd is used as Sabine's theme and Lisa has a Miscreants poster and replica mask in her bedroom.) Similarly, the Vala, Pi, and Xin (through Ydris) have all been shown to be our enemies AND allies at different points in time, and all seem to have agendas separate from the battle between good and evil.

Xin is an odd case; we know very little about him, although I assume he is Pandorian in origin like Ydris and Zee. The way Ydris refers to Xin's mask is interesting and definitely makes me think it has some greater significance.

In the questline where we're trying to save Concorde from the circus, we also have this little exchange between Linda and Evergray. (Pardon crusty Linda!/lh)

I feel this strengthens the case for Xin being Pandorian.

Now for the witches!

And yes, I do mean witches generally, not just the Vala!

In the second Soul Riders book, The Legend Awakens, Pi is described as wearing wooden masks also! This is an excerpt from Pi's introduction.

"She emerged from the darkness. The darkness sent her to them. All they could see was a figure shrouded in shadows, dressed in a dark cloak with something in front of its face. A wooden mask? The mask was glowing pink, with almost luminescent letters. Anne gasped as she felt the Pandoria sickness wash over her, sticky and pink. She recognized those letters."

Thanks to Sive in the Storms Over Devil's Gap questline we know the masks have some power beyond just cool aesthetics.

I find it interesting that these masks are always specified to be "wooden" either by verbally being referred to as such or in their design.

This makes me wonder if the masks are perhaps made from the wood of Primeval Tress. We know Lisa was able to communicate with the Sleeping Widow while in Pandoria and it was explained the Primeval Tree's roots reach to Pandoria. Dialogue from the One of Our Witches questline also states that witches and Primeval Trees do sometimes form alliances, making this theory even more credible in my opinion.

This same questline also gives us this bit of dialogue.

I find myself wondering if Pi's masks specifically came from a corrupted Primeval Tree. Anne's reaction to it and the fact that Pi's is the only mask to glow pink suggests a stronger Pandorian connection than the Vala masks. Pi in The Legend Awakens is also described very differently from her in-game counterpart. (Since this depiction is more current, I'm considering it the canon version. I want her to be updated in-game so bad!) She's described as having feet like rough tree roots and hands that are half claw, half atrophied wood. Maybe using masks made from corrupted trees corrupts the wearer as well?

For the last part of my theory, we're going to circle back to Shari for a minute.

In Shari's Mask it's revealed that Shari is searching for her missing horse who was taken from her, which I believe to be the Laverna, who is also a mask-wearing trickster. Here's Laverna's in-game description.

"The veil between worlds grows thin around Halloween, allowing spirits to travel to other planes. Laverna was one of these, though no one knows when she first crossed over.

When she arrived on Jorvik she was a mere wisp and a mask. But Laverna is a powerful soul, and before long she created a solid body in the shape of a creature she saw around Jorvik that was suitable for her interests. Disguised as a horse, she got up to all kinds of mischief, preferring the "trick" in "trick or treat."

Laverna fashioned her body after an American Paint Horse; she likes the splashy colors even when concealing her magical coat and mask. She employs nighttime and shadow as cover for thievery. Mischief is her entertainment, so be prepared to keep an eye on her!"

The line "though no one knows when she first crossed over" seems to imply that Laverna is quite an ancient spirit. When Alex meets some of Shari's hypnotized followers in Jorvik City they describe Shari as "the goddess, the deceiver, the rebel, the legend", which is in line with Laverna's mischievousness and the Miscreant's rebelliousness. Shari is described as wearing black robes and not having a face, only the mask. And if Shari can be referred to as a goddess, I would imagine that she's also a very old being. The only other character that's ever been called a goddess is Aideen, so here's my thinking.

Aideen and Garnok are both treated as deities with their own missions and followers, what's interesting though is that while witches and Pandorians (the primary mask-wearers) acknowledge both as powerful beings, they don't seem to worship either. Aideen seems to be a goddess of Jorvik, and we know Garnok is not from Pandoria, merely trapped there. My theory is that witches and Pandorians are followers of Shari, who I believe to be a Pandorian goddess, more specifically a trickster goddess, who is unaligned to good or evil and acts only in the best interest of herself and her followers, the masks symbolizing their neutrality. Mask=ambiguity=neutrality.

The only thing that gives me pause about Laverna being Shari's horse is that Gabby (one of the hypnotized followers) calls Shari's horse Solomi (no clue if I spelled that right, I only have the audiobook version of the story). But it's possible that this is either a discrepancy or Solomi is the horse's real name and Laverna is the name given to her by Jorvegians who didn't know her real name.

So, am I onto something?

Thank you for reading my insane wooden mask deep dive!/gen

[zeenmrala]

wolfwren kisses

shin kisses her first. it's swift, like all of her movements are: it's a sudden and hard kiss that momentarily startles sabine until she can recover her senses. shin's hands are either side of sabine's face, her fingers in the mandalorian's short hair. she throws her weight into it, and the pair stumble backwards.

sabine gasps softly, opening her mouth as her arms slip around the taller woman's waist, pulling her in. it's intense, vibrant, electric. sabine's eyes close, her hands graze across the rough fabric of shin's shirt.

thirst. shin desires to drink her, and sabine is screaming out in the force that she wants to be drunk. shin smirks. she deepens the kiss. she dips her tongue in sabine's mouth, tasting the rich sweetness of her tongue.

sabine whimpers a groan as she allows herself to be devoured by shin, but then her judgement sways, her guard goes up: she pushes the dark jedi off of her, shoves her away clumsily. looks in disbelief at those wide, wild eyes.

she exhales, her lips tingle, the back of her head aches from the lack of shin's fingers in her hair. her mind swims through what just happened, and yearns for it to happen again.

shin waits, steady and patient.

sabine sighs, her eyes glaze up and down the blonde, noting her lithe, athletic figure, the slight blush in those pale cheeks caused by sabine herself. then it is all too much to resist, and her lips are back on shin's, kissing her deeper than before, possessive and hungry. her legs are around shins waist, shin hoisting her up, her hands at her back, taking her weight gladly, easily.

shin kisses her back, allows sabine the freedom to explore her mouth with her tongue. laps back at her greedily.

they lose themselves. they kiss between panting breaths, eyes closed and hands roaming. it's greed and desire and despair - then shin opens her blue eyes, big and gleaming. their noses touch, then their foreheads, and suddenly it's all intimacy and warmth.

sabine opens her own eyes when shin pauses. her legs are still robust around shin's waist, her torso rigid with strength.

shin slowly pecks sabine's bottom lip, then traces her jaw with her lips, down to her neck.

sabine moans under her breath, slips down and returns to her feet. her fingers now in the short tresses of blonde hair, her own head thrown back to expose her throat to shin's lips, teeth, tongue.

shin's lips find their way back to sabine's. she kisses her, tender and gentle, relishing in the surprising softness of her. enjoying it. she then pulls back to look into sabines deep, brown eyes. they watch each other, slow and mindful, chests heaving softly from the sudden exertion. kiss bruised lips, tussled hair, smudged make up.

shin smiles, genuine. sharp edges dulled.

sabine reaches forward, takes her hand.

-

[luciana-morningstar]

One-Shot

Rating this like a PG-13/M for implied nudity and implied activities. Nothing graphic.

Donatello x Fem OC (INFM)

Contains Spoilers for Fic

Aged up Characters

:: Strained ::

Luciana pressed her palm flat against the biometric scanner next to the large thick metal doors to her husband's lab.

With a funny little sing song beep the doors whooshed open, allowing her within.

"Donnie?" She called out as she entered the massive room. He was probably seated at his giant monitor screens. Like she usually found him. Occasionally he was hunched over some contraption, welding something together, fiddling with numerous wires, staring at blueprints and schematics. But most of the time he was seated in front of the two massive monitor screens and the touch panel that went with them.

Today was a typical day.

She noticed his hands move across the touch panel, flicking aside various charts, readings, sometimes one would flick up onto one of the screens to remain fixed in place.

That's all she could see of him as she approached, his hands, deftly moving across the smooth surface.

"Love, come eat something and maybe take a break? You have been at it for hours." She reached around the back of his large rolling chair to gently caress the back of his neck with her knuckles, gliding her fingers down to his shoulders where she massaged at the tightly knotted muscles there.

She smiled at his soft sigh in response to her kneading fingers. His own hands stopped moving across the touch panel so he could focus on her.

"I'm almost done." He told her, his voice cracked dryly and his words slurred slightly from his groggy state of mind.

"You said that three hours ago. You have been up since three in the morning." Luciana's lips turned down in a frown, her brows knitting in frustration.

"I'm almost done. No one else knows how to run this system but me. I know I said I was almost done three hours ago but I mean it. Now, if you do not mind. I would like some peace and quiet. " He reiterated, this time his tone sharpening with the rest of his tyraid. She knew that tone. Stubborn softshell.

"Donatello Hamato-Morningstar." Lux felt her teeth click as her jaw clenched.

"Luciana Sabine Morningstar." His ire washed over her like a tidal wave, frigid and dark like the sea itself.

Luciana's hands froze in place, still resting on his shoulders. Where Donatello's irritation and anger always manifested in icy fractles, her anger, her irritation, blazed like an inferno.

She felt her canines lengthen, her horns, wings and tails manifesting in an instant, the latter lashing the air like whips. If he turned he would look into blood red orbs instead of evergreen.

"Fine. Have it your way." She felt her lips lift in a disdainful snarl as she spun on her heel and stormed from the room.

It was slow to start, little by little she could feel through their bond the chilly wasteland of his irritation with her disappearing in clouds of steam as if warm water had doused the glacial surface of his emotional state, melting it away and leaving him laid bare to her again.

He was exhausted.

He was mentally drained.

He was remorseful.

Luciana pinched at the bridge of her nose as she stopped in the corridor a few feet from the lab doors that were opening with another whoosh.

Donatello's arms circled around her from behind and he rested his cheek against the top of her head, avoiding the rigid and rough edges of her horns.

"I'm sorry." He whispered into her wine red tresses, she could feel him breathing in her scent deeply, as if it were his oxygen and his arms around her were the only things keeping him planted firmly on the ground.

"What was that?" The corners of her petal pink lips twitched ever so slightly upward.

She felt a soft rumble vibrate in his plastron that was pressed against her back as much as he could with her wings in the way. He cleared his dry throat before answering her again a little more firmly.

"I said... I'm sorry."

Lux lifted her hands to grasp at his, still wrapped around her. She spun in the circle of his arms and then let go of his hands so he could rest them on the flare of her hips.

She looked up into his bloodshot eyes, the red veins striking against his pale yellow sclera, the dark chocolate brown of his irises warm and familiar to her again.

"I wish you wouldn't get so prickly. I'm your wife, it's my job to pull you away from your work when you have clearly over taxed yourself. It's my job to take care of you. It's my j-" her ranting was abruptly halted as Don leaned down to claim her lips with his own, chaste at first but it never remained that way for long with them.

His hands kneaded gently at her hips and pulled her closer to him, pressing her firmly against his plastron as their kiss increased in its heat, beginning a steady blaze within them both.

Lux pulled away slightly, nipping at his lip as she did so, eliciting a small desperate moan from him, his hands moving to rub small circles at the small of her back, his forehead bumping against hers.

"Come eat something, I know you are hungry." She nuzzled the tip of her nose against his beak and she heard a faint contented chuff in response from him.

"You are right as always." He smiled at her. She couldn't hold back the small laugh that escaped her.

"Oh? The genius himself admits defeat? That the woman he married is right? What a day. I shall write this on my calendar to remember it fondly for years to come."

"The only time I will ever allow myself to be wrong is in regard to you. You are the exception." His smile turned lopsided and she returned it candidly.

"C'mon. After you eat, and, take a nap. I will make you a pot of coffee and you can go back to whatever it was you were doing. But i want you to take a solid nap. At least four hours. No less." Luciana turned and grasped his larger hand in her own, pulling him down the corridor. Her wings disappeared in a 'poof' of black glittery snoke but her horns and tails remained.

"I've decided I will not be going back to what I was doing. I have other plans now." Don followed behind her, still relatively groggy but she could feel him prodding gently at her mind with his own.

She furrowed her brow but let her mental wall fall down only to be bombarded by image after image from him. Nothing but pale opaline and textured green skin, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, tangled limbs and torn and tattered clothing.

Luciana whipped around and was met with a self satisfied smirk pulling at the corners of the spunky softshell's lips. His eyes, though weary, were hooded and dark with undisguised desire.

"My my. Someone has quite the.....productive... evening planned. I will have to have a look at my schedule to see if I am available to....assist you." Her own smile became coy, her canines lengthening with anticipation. She squealed as she was unexpectedly pulled back towards him by their joined hands.

Luciana sucked in a sharp breath as Don leaned down to nip at his own mark on her neck, his breath chilling her now heated skin as it tickled her just under her ear.

"Clear your non-existent schedule, sugar. I want you all to myself. No interruptions." His still rasping voice had deepened in tone, his lips, feather light, brushed against her flushing skin at the corner of her jaw.

Damn him and that pet name. He knew how to wield one singular word with cunning expertise. Leaving her to melt into a puddle at his feet.

Damn him.

Lux shivered and pulled back from him again and narrowed her luminous green eyes, tugging on his hand again.

"Stop distracting me. I'm attempting to feed you." She said with a half hearted huff of annoyance.

"Oh, please do. I know exactly what I would like to devour at this very moment." He flashed her a toothy grin, his own sharp canines glinting in the soft torch light of the corridor they were...slowly...making their way down.

"Youuuuu. Knock it off." Lux laughed pulling him forward again. He followed more readily this time, his expression resuming into a lazy smile as he allowed his wife to lead him to the kitchen in this particular wing of the castle.

Lux smiled to herself and mentally shook her head. She knew without a single doubt that as soon as his head hit the pillow he would be out for the rest of the day. And that was fine by her. He needed it more than anyone here.

"I can hear you." Don told her as she pulled him into the kitchen and made him sit at the large island on one of the bar stools there.

"I know." She grinned impishly at him as she turned to the fridge and opened it to peer within.

She could feel her husband's eyes on her but she could also feel his exhaustion pulling him down as well so she found something easy and quick for him to eat.

She set a container of sushi down in front of him and watched his brown eyes light up briefly before he eagerly opened the container and accepted the chopsticks she offered from across the bar.

"Stay." She told him firmly, pointing at him before she turned and left the kitchen, wandering down to their room so she could close the blackout curtains for him and turn down the bed. She picked up the remote and turned the T.V. on, selecting one of the various shows that he tended to binge watch to play as white noise for him. By the time she was done and returned to the kitchen he had finished his meal and was scrolling on his phone, probably texting Leo or April.

He looked up at her when he heard her approach.

"I stayed." He smiled at her, already looking like he felt a little better and less 'walking dead.'

Lux walked around the island to him, patting his cheek affectionately before leaning forward to peck a soft kiss there as well.

"Good boy. Come on." She grasped his hand again and pulled him from the kitchen down the hallway, back to their room.

"Remember. At least four hours. No less." She waggled her finger at him as he pulled off his shirt, pressing a tiny button on the black eight pointed star that clung to his plastron, causing the armor that wrapped over his shoulders and his shell to contract like he was in some dark version of an Iron Man suit. He pulled off the black arm wraps he tended to wear and left his dark gray joggers on.

"Four hours at minimum. Got it." He nodded, climbing under the weighted satin comforter. Lux smiled as she watched him gaze at the T.V. for a fraction of a second before, like clockwork, his eyelids drooped and drooped until they closed completely and his breathing evened out and deepened, the faintest snores could be heard mere minutes after.

"Called it." Lux said to herself as she sat down on the couch to scroll her own phone. "And record timing too." She snickered softly, glancing at his peaceful serene expression while he slept dreamlessly.

[yesilovebugs]

Sabine Tress

[whippedcloudsofcream]

Are you Honest to God telling me that after showing Sabine with soft, long tresses, they brought back her fugly Rebels haircut??????

[alicenaivory]

【•⊱𝐈𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝•⊱】

[𝘾𝙝𝙖·𝙤𝙨;

complete disorder and confusion.

How easily I’d always welcome it into my life. It had it’s roots in me. A feeling of thread through skin that feels impossible to cut. A permanent scar embroidered within.

Alicena and chaos—

twins living in discordant harmony.

I scoffed at the thought, sitting down on the new maroon colored bar stool against Sabine’s bar. The bar top was marble and also new. This place was beautiful and freshly renovated. Much needed after her last outburst that ended in almost burning the entire place down. Amusing that she thought burning her demons would rid them as if they didn’t feed on fire.

“Is everything okay, moth—Alice?”

I turned toward wherever that concerned voice was coming from. Supernatural hearing was one vampiric gift amongst many. Through the loud techno music and shouting from the people dancing on the floor I could still hear her. A question posed from a young woman I sired years ago. I raised Alessa from when she was seven years old as if she were my own but I never considered myself her mother. I’d be terrible at that. After all I did kill her parents and turned her into an orphan. The least I can do is raise her. . .

but turning her on her 22nd birthday wasn’t the plan. I guess a small part of me cared for her. A motherly nature kicked in of never wanting to lose her and also not wanting her to be the fiend that I was but I failed at that. She was just as dangerous and lethal as I was.

Her mind just as fractured and blood crazed.]

Your job is to make drinks. I suggest you get to it.

[I responded to her coldly, my gaze staring right into hers. She can see the emptiness. The void I’d portray. Alessa shook her head and looked down, her fresh dark dyed tresses falling in front of her face. “Decades later and I still can’t escape your cruelty.” she said while grabbing my glass to pour another shot of tequila.]

That tall handsome boy you’re fond of lately. Would you like him without his tongue?

[“Alice!” That was Sabine of course, scolding me for the way I was handling Alessa. She always felt responsible for her. A need to come to her rescue as always but Alessa is a big girl. I can’t tell which one of them has trouble accepting that more. I simply rolled my eyes at the both of them, lifting up from the bar stool.]

I’m clearly parched. I’ll go find someone to sink my teeth into.

[I turned from the two of them, looking around at the humans dancing in the middle of the floor underneath the strobe lights that flashed upon their flush. Their skin was flushed pink, adrenaline in through their veins as sweat starts to stick to them.

So much prey to rip into within arms reach.

I feel the ache in my gums where my fangs reside, hunger pains growing in the pit of my stomach. I can already taste sweet crimson on my tongue. I’m in a place where I can’t 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 make a mess for Sabine to clean up. She made her rules here about feeding openly and how going full massacre mode was forbidden but she’d always find me amongst the humans “accidentally” devouring their throats.

“𝘼𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙖…”

I hear my name in a raspy whisper. One that was close and personal up to my ear but no one was that close to me. I started to look around as I heard it again but not within a whisper this time. There was a voice instead.

“𝙄𝙢𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪.”

There’s familiarity in this voice. For once I had wished these were voices taunting my existence and nothing more. Something that wasn’t real.

This sounded like someone I tried keep buried away like a dark secret. Someone who reminded me of an innocent time. A time when I was alive before chaos had it’s roots in my veins. Innocent pure parts that I would never grant anyone access to. Parts I didn’t want to remember so I stored them away and him with them.]

Adonis?

[I said his once forbidden name, it left a sweet taste right at the tip of my tongue. As fast as moving wind he was right in front of me. For a second the world around me shifted. The music silenced and the people disappeared.

Adonis was right here standing tall and slightly hovering over me. The sight of his handsomeness still took my breath away. I was taking in his perfect aligned features; The long dark hair that laid smoothly across his head.

𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧, 𝐠𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞.

I wasn’t sure what he was. I spent a long time trying to figure it out. The mystery of the man who could walk dimensions but was also immortal and much older than I could imagine. We shared fangs and vampiric gifts alike but he was still something more. In his presence he would show me his power, I could feel it on him like a warm vibration. Adonis could send me his thoughts from across the world no matter where he was but I didn’t possess the power to do the same.

He’d drive me crazy with his subtle “I miss you’s” or even worse when he’d get vindictive when I was in the presence of someone I liked. “Tell him that you’re 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦.” For so long I had to endure it until I learned how to shut him out.

Adonis raised his hand from at his side. It wouldn’t be long before one of us desired our usual closeness. He was reaching out to me, I can already feel the warmth his touch would provide. It was a comfort I couldn’t afford right now so before his hand could make contact with my cheekbone, my head turned to avoid it.]

Don’t.

[The audacity of him to come back and act as if everything was normal. This entitlement he thinks he has to me and 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺. He gets under my skin like no other and he knows it.]

If you want to talk to me then use your words and not your hands. That’s privilege that you do not possess.

[I stood firm on every word with pursed red lips. Adonis looked at me like I was someone that just challenged his throne. His eyes squinted and a smirk presents itself to his lips. He walked forward and I started to walk backwards on tall sharp heels. My back collided with the nearest wall, he corners me and traps me against his body.

I exhaled a shaky breath, unanticipated heat building in my lower abdomen that traveled in between my thighs. Adonis called for my body and I was heeding to it. Self control was out of my reach. His hand was on cheek, forcing me to look up into his eyes that swept me in its oceanic sea. The pad of his thumb presses to my lower lip to massage it downward slowly. Adonis parts his lips and he says to me; “Don’t make me chase you, 𝙄𝙧𝙞𝙨.”

The flower iris. I know what he meant the moment he said it. He was calculating and annoyingly so. He called me Iris and despite the bad that come with these memories. My mind drifted to a simpler time.

𝑯 𝒖 𝒎 𝒂 𝒏 𝑭 𝒍 𝒂 𝒔 𝒉 𝒃 𝒂 𝒄 𝒌

The flower garden was my favorite place. My only place of solitude. I could be alone without the verbal abuse of my father. I didn’t care for my mothers subtle insults because whenever my father speaks he always spoke to hurt far worse. We weren’t always this way but ever since my older brother Avery went missing there was a shift in our family. Avery kept things together. He was the only one that shielded me from the cruelty of the world. Even when that cruelty lived in the same home with us.

My parents looked down on me like I needed some kind of forgiveness for his absence. I think they forget Avery was the 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵 between the two of us and I was never responsible for his whereabouts. I would never forget my drunken father the night he had Avery’s name carved into the family’s headstone. At some point they accepted he might’ve been dead but I never could. I held onto hope that he was out there somewhere surviving. I remembered Avery as the fighter he was so the night they carved his name into the family’s headstone shattered the only hope I held onto.

“𝙄𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙’𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪! 𝙄 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙’𝙫𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩!”

Words my father said to me that night and I looked at my mother for a comfort that was nonexistent. I was hoping there was still a part of her that loved me enough to defend me. Yet she looked at me with so much disdain like she had wished the same. Betrayal from her is what I felt! Things were never the same between us. Bonds were broken. Trust could no longer be mended.

I could find no peace in a home with them but I can right here in the flower garden hand grown by Avery. For now I take it over. I made sure to keep it alive even though he wasn’t here. He was always most excited to see his favorite flowers that only bloomed in the summer.

𝐈𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

They were finally here and fully bloomed. Beautiful in their blueish shade and purple highlights. I just stared at them in awe while imagining Avery was here with his long blonde hair whipping in the wind. He’d dip down and take one of the flowers and place it in my hair. I missed him. I needed him.

I feel a sudden weight behind me, invasive and close that it startled me. I spun around and crashed right into the mans torso. I looked up at him, catching his eyes with mine and for that moment we were locked. His eyes were a beautiful oceanic blue but his gaze was cold and unusual. The longer I stared I feel myself drifting into a sudden dizziness that swiftly eased when he spread his lips to expose perfect aligned teeth that caught my attention. A chuckle expelled from him as he shook his head. “I startled you didn’t I?” He asked me but I was dazed by his handsomeness. He was beautiful in a ethereal kind of way.

I finally nodded my head in response, grinning to ease whatever awkwardness was building between us. “Yes, you did…or maybe I wasn’t paying attention. I assume you’re looking for my father?” I asked him and he shook his head while stepping around me to pick off one of the irises, confidence behind the action like he knew I’d let him. “No, I have no interest in your father. I’m here for you.” I was taken back by his response, a smile forming on plush lips. “I’m Alicena. Have we met before?” I asked him curiously and he shook his head “Pleasure to meet you, Alicena. We haven’t met. 𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬 𝐕𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫.” he said while looking down at the flower in his hand. “So I take it you are quite fond of these?” He asked me and I nodded at him again “Uh..yes. I think it compliments everything well.” I looked towards the other flowers, trying to divert his attention to them. He didn’t look away from me, his eyes continued to peer down at me with seriousness. He took a step forward to be closer to me. “That’s not the reason you like them though is it?” He placed the flower gently into the right side of my hair.

“𝘞𝘩𝘰’𝘴 ���𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺??”

His question left me frozen for a few seconds. Who could ask something that abrupt and not care to ease into it? How could he be so ignorant? I have never seen this Adonis before. We were strangers up until this point but how couldn’t he know Avery? Everyone knew him. You didn’t have to know Avery to know of him. “Avery was…he.. I mean he is my brother.” I was stammering over my own words, looking away from him as I realized what I almost admitted out loud. That Avery 𝘸𝘢𝘴 my brother who isn’t here anymore. He’s the past and I wasn’t ready to accept him as that.

“Alicena Ivery!” My mother shouted from the porch, I turned around and fearing the rage in her voice. She was always angry with me for something. She stormed down the steps and I turned around to look back at Adonis but he was gone. It was like he had evaporated into thin air. I was confused but also relieved he didn’t have to witness whatever would come of this.

I turned back around to my mother who was coming at me. She was holding the longest and thickets pair of pruning shears I ever seen. “I thought I told you not to this anymore?! It’s been two long painful years and still no respect from you!” she went straight for the irises, opening the shears and chopping them. “You won’t respect me then you’ll learn!” She shouted at me while continuing to wack them down aggressively. She was just lashing out or maybe she hated me this much to ruin anything that gave me solitude.

As she whacked them down I ran to those flowers like they were someone with a soul who needed saving. My vision started to blur as tears streamed down each of my cheeks. “Why are you doing this? Please, stop it already! Don’t you see this is all I have left of him?” I grabbed her arm to stop her, hoping I can reason with her but she turned around and slapped me across the face faster than I could comprehend. I looked her in the eyes and I saw her anger. It was so prevalent that her eyes might as well had been red. She turned around and used those same sharp shears and tried to hit me with them. I flinched using my hands for protection and the sharp tip of one of the sheers cut open my palm. I staggered back from her, falling onto my back as I screamed and winced in pain. Blood started to gush out the fresh wound and stain my white dress. My mother just stood there looking at me. She didn’t come to my aid at all. Did she feel remorse? Was she contemplating the opportunity to kill me while I laid here bleeding out and crying from a wound she inflicted? Her only daughter!

𝑩 𝒂 𝒄 𝒌 𝒕 𝒐 𝒑 𝒓 𝒆 𝒔 𝒆 𝒏 𝒕

I hated the way my mind drifted, how these memories snuck out from the place I hid them. Where the parts of me I kept hidden;

𝘐𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 and 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 slowly started to surface. The harmless girl I use to be started to come alive again. I felt her rattling in the cage that I put her in. . .

but I could never let her fully come out. I couldn’t give her power. That was a version of me that was weak. A version that only had the pain of losing a brother. She wasn’t the version of me that had to fight for her life. The one who was given a permanent death and bound to blood and chaos forever. A cold killer. Monstrous at the thought. Cold to the core.

She wasn’t a killer. . .

No. . .

she was version of me that everyone took advantage of that no one deserved.

I looked up at Adonis, reaching for his wrist to take his hand from my face.]

I am not your Iris. There is 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 Alice.

[Our love had once started innocent until I was born into vampirism. We hadn’t crossed paths until years after. We had this dynamic where whenever one of us felt too vulnerable we’d run. I think I was the one who did most of the running.

Adonis admired me for what I had become but he didn’t understand why his Iris and who I had become now couldn’t coexist inside of me. He would never understand why I had to kill it.]

[jordi-gali]

kunst2.de

Sabine Tress

https://www.pinterest.es/pin/38632509286943190/

[abstractlovin]

Sabine Tress

[ahtcast]

Sabine Tress

Tress’ website:  http://www.sabinetress.de/

Sabine Tress Revisited: In Conversation with Phillip J. Mellen (audio): http://www.ahtcast.com/2017/10/artist-interview-sabine-tress-revisited.html

[priscilla9993]

How, why? Writing Madarcher/Curious Archer always gets me setting up the story in a good mood. I was in such slumps today but heaven forbid I stay stuck in it. Sneak peek on my Mario Kart one and its knightrook start: 

“Let me stay in bed.” Tilly groaned, face half buried in her pillow. “No one at the food truck would miss me. I could call in sick.”

Rogers sighed, shaking his head, closing his eyes as rubbed the crinkles from his forehead. “You know that isn’t true. Call in sick if you truly have a fever,” he said entering, going over and pulling at her arm. “I made eggs and toast, with those cherry tomatoes you love on the side. If you don’t want to have an empty stomach later, you best get up and eat before taking your meds.” 

The smell of coffee lingered in the air and she knew he probably had a teapot brewing as well since she preferred tea. Her stomach growled, begging her to not deny it of the meal. She sat up, her blonde tresses all over the place, making her look more like a lion than a human. “Ugh, why must you be so impossible to say no to, tempting me with such sweetness?” 

“Is that a compliment?” His eyebrow was raised in playful confusion until he laughed. “Well, I also added some fresh fruit to your bag. It will keep your energy up later,” Rogers replied, handing her the green backpack that his prosthetic hand was clutching at to her.   

“There’s my little worker bee,” Sabine had exclaimed when she arrived, a few minutes late from dragging her boots on the brisk walk over, “I was fearing you weren’t coming.” 

The detective was right. Her coworkers were glad to see her as usual. Her fair boss had cracked jokes at her the whole day, Jacinda nudging her that she could take over if Tilly wanted a break, and some regulars had managed to make a smile crack on her face at times. The blonde almost hated how Rogers was able to read her mood and try to remedy whatever she needed as she chomped on the sweet and crunchy white nectarine pieces during break. It didn’t take long for the small bit of natural sugar and a glance at her wristwatch telling her that her six hour shift was nearly over to kick her back into a glimmer of her usual spirits. 

[decennia]

If they had a kid Theodore and Althea?

(this is straight up fifty shades of late, but when inspiration strikes...) following their graduation, theodore and althea moved to romania in pursuit of althea's dragonology tutelage under charlie weasley. theodore, during that time, was working on the recreation of the time turner for ministry use. upon their return to london, they proceeded to have three children, each about a year apart in age.

name: Christopher "Kit" Joseph Nott

significance: Kit was given the name "Joseph" after Althea's father, Joseph Abbott

gender: male

general appearance: Kit was originally born blond, but his hair grew darker over time. During his years at Hogwarts, he sported an overall polished, dark look, his now black hair perfectly complimenting pale skin and tailored black suits (the spitting image of his father). He has his father's blue eyes, and overall bone structure. However, once graduated, and Kit began his pursuit of his blossoming Quidditch career – resulting in much time spent in the sun – his hair grew lighter, and the palor of his skin was replaced with a golden bronze. He would never admit to it, but he had also heard that his crush at the time, Freya Fawley, had a "thing" for blond guys. It took the whole summer to correct the damage done by the second-rate potion he had half-heartedly brewed in secret under his bunk in the dorms.

personality: Kit is very enigmatic and outspoken, charming as ever, a real smooth-talker. He is constantly the centre of attention, whether he wants to be or not. He is, by all definitions, the "cool guy." He was extremely popular at Hogwarts, with a near spotless record — the only time he ever got in trouble was when he was getting his younger brother out of it. His flaws, however, fall within elitism: never blood or money based, but rather based off of Slytherin pride. He's extremely competitive with the things he finds interests in, and is a complete romantic.

house: Slytherin, and very proud

special talents: Kit is an incredibly good Beater in Quidditch, perhaps owed to him being ambidextrous. What he lacks in potions, he makes up for in transfiguration. He also used to be his sister's dance partner when they were younger, and so he is quite agile and graceful on his feet. Sabine likes to joke that he owes her at least half of his hefty Quidditch salary, because if she hadn't forced him to dance with her, he would've never had any semblance of athletic prowess.

who they like better: Kit prefers the company of his mother. Althea, also having been a Quidditch player, takes great delight in flying with her son during his brief visits home, and discussing winning strategies.

who they take after more: When Kit first arrived, everyone assumed he'd take after his father, given the spitting image he portrayed. It didn't take long for them to realise it was his mother he took after more; it was the smile that betrayed him. So often did Theodore Nott wear a subtly mocking smile that warned everyone to stay away, that when he had cracked a genuine one, people found themselves stumbling in shock. Not Kit; no, every smile was genuine and quick, and had a warm presence about them.

personal head canon: Albus and Scorpius were literally the bane of Kit's existence during his time as Slytherin Prefect, and later, Head Boy (somewhat undeservingly won through the popularity vote, which had left Roland Goyle furious). He had never taken his duties seriously until he discovered what little shits the duo could be, and he made it his personal mission to put them in their place before he graduated. For the safety of Hogwarts.

face claim: Dominic Sherwood

name: Sabine Bedelia Nott

significance: Bedelia was Theo's mother's name, of whom he was incredibly fond, prior to her untimely death.

gender: female

general appearance: Sabine has the same impish face and wide firebrand eyes of her mother. She has long tresses of chocolate brown, although also briefly dabbled in being blonde upon discovering photographs of Bedelia, with whom she bore little resemblance in everything but passions — in that, they were perfectly matched. She is shorter than both her brothers, much to her chagrin. She has a slender, dancer's build, and is quite strong and athletically capable.

personality: Sabine is extremely aware of boundaries, and tends to respect them to the point of coming off as aloof or cold. In actuality, she is incredibly warm and kind, although she has been known to be quite teasing. She has whip-crack wit, and is the funniest out of her siblings. As the middle child, she sometimes falls to the wayside while Kit basks in all the glory, but she is never bothered by this. She prefers her small friendship groups to the larger crowds her older brother attracts.

house: Sabine, like Bedelia Nott (neé Delacour) before her, attended Beauxbatons. It was her own decision to make, but she will never forget the silent joy and pride that swam in her father's eyes when she had told him her choice at the age of ten. However, if she were to go to Hogwarts, she would've been a Gryffindor.

special talents: Sabine, like Bedelia, is a performer. She learned ballet from a young age, and even managed to persuade Kit into helping her. She is incredibly persuasive when she needs to be, and more often than not gets her way. She can speak four different languages fluently, of which French is one.

who they like better: Sabine is totally a daddy's girl. She adores Theodore, and the feeling is very mutual. She of course loves her mother too, and they get along perfectly amicably, but Theo is Sabine's favourite.

who they take after more: Sabine takes after Bedelia most, but given that is her grandmother through Theodore, I will simply say Theodore.

personal head canon: Sabine attended Beauxbatons the same time as Dominique Weasley. She and Dominique grew close, being second cousins. Their friendship group was made of four, the other two being Thomasin Dumont and Henri Allaire.

face claim: Ella Purnell

name: Wendell Lorence Nott

significance: "Lorence" had been in reference to Lorelei Abbott, Althea's muggleborn mother, who had passed during the Second Wizarding War. Wendell is of German origin, meaning "wanderer."

gender: male

general appearance: Where Kit preferred to keep his hair neatly groomed and often cropped short, Wendell kept his honey blond hair long and unkempt. He is perpetually tired, and perpetually in a state of disarray. He, too, has the same eye colour as his father, although it is on the lighter side; more of a baby blue. Wendell is quite a slender, reedy boy, and is not much of an athlete, but rather an academic. He either wears a look of total boredom or pleasant surprise; Sabine likes to say those are his only two emotions.

personality: Wendell is quite shy and soft spoken, preferring to keep to himself. He is quite difficult to get out of his shell. He never looks for trouble, although trouble often finds him, much to the annoyance of Kit, who often has to put his own neck on the line to get Wendell out of it. The only time he's ever loud is if he's discussing his passions, or if he's lying – which is always his biggest tell.

house: Hufflepuff

special talents: Wendell's best subject is Defence Against the Dark Arts, and he is so incredibly talented, he's been likened to a young Rathin Patil. He is also great at singing, not that he'd ever tell anyone. He also has a photographic memory.

who they like better: Wendell prefers the quiet company of his father, simply for the comfortable silence they can sit in for an entire afternoon, without either one feeling the need to break it.

who they take after more: Appearance wise, he follows quite closely to the sunshine that is his mother. However, the withdrawn and loneresque aura he exudes screams "angsty Hogwarts years Theodore."

personal head canon: His closest friends are Piper Macmillan and Calliope Corner. Of the Delacour-Weasleys, he and Louis are the closest.

face claim: Charlie Plummer

[ashdumpsterpile]

i hate to see you go (but i love to watch you walk away)

read on ao3

It’s been a good day. 

 Luka had spent most of it, sitting by the Seine with Marinette, playing idle melodies on his bass while she contemplatively watched boats float down the river and occasionally shot Kagami looks across their friends. 

 They were good looks, though, he was pretty sure. When he had first seen the two interacting there had been some tension between them, but now something had clicked into place and the two girls were thick as thieves. 

 Luka didn’t want to presume it had something to do with Marinette suddenly being able to interact with Adrien without devolving into a sputtering, embarrassed mess, and her sudden disinterest in catching his attention, but a guy could dream.

 Eventually, one by one, her friends paired off, heading back to their respective homes with promises to see each other the next day, leaving Luka and Marinette to watch the sun slowly set across the river. 

 “It’s getting late,” Luka finally says, regretfully, sliding his guitar back into its case. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

 Marinette gives him a tired smile. “You don’t have-”

 “It’s not out of my way,” he quickly adds, giving her what he hopes is a casual smile. “C’mon, how sure are we that there aren’t Akumas still wandering about? It would make me feel better if I knew you were safe.”

 “I’m pretty sure I could handle myself,” she says, eyes laughing mischievously at a joke he doesn’t get. “But I would like the company,” she admits, hopping off the railing. Her hair bounces slightly, the long tresses having been pulled out of their customary style earlier that night. 

 He slings his bag over his shoulder and falls into step beside the smaller girl. “Don’t know how much company I can be,” he replies, tightly. “I’ve barely said a word to you today.”

 Marinette smiles up at him. “Haven’t you?” she pokes at his guitar. 

 He smiles back.

 The walk to the Dupain-Cheng bakery is mostly silent after that, but it’s a peaceful, comfortable silence that Luka only ever feels with Juleka or Alix. Marinette occasionally hums to herself, or says something adorable or ridiculous that has that small, strange part of his chest squeezing painfully with an undefined emotion. 

 Mostly, it’s just quiet though.

 The two of them pause when they actually reach the bakery. 

 “Well, this is me,” she says, a little awkwardly, but Luka doesn’t mind. “Text me when you get home?” she adds, looking hopeful. 

 He grins and gives her a two fingered salute. “As you wish, my lady.”

 Don’t call me that,” she snaps, sounding like the words are an automatic response. Marinette’s face goes a little pale and she swallows reflexively. “I-sorry I didn’t mean to-”

 Luka wraps his hand around her wrist, gently so she can pull away if she wants. “My apologies,” he says, sincerely. “My muse,” he adds, sliding his fingers to rest over her pulse point. Her heartbeat sutters slightly as her cheeks turn an attractive shade of pink that’s barely visible in the evening light. 

 Marinette stares up at him, seemingly having an internal debate with herself. Luka loosens his grip, preparing for the inevitable rejection-one that he will not hold against her, not after her breakdown earlier. He doesn’t know the specifics, but he’s fairly certain that now isn’t the right time for his friend to start dating someone-let alone a fucked up mess like himself. 

 So he gives her the time and space she needs to think, to decide what she wants and if it’s not him that’s fine, he’s okay being her friend because being friends with her is still amazing and incredible and-

 Marinette turns her hand around in his grip so that she’s also clasping his wrist. She tugs on him gently, until he’s standing flush against her smaller body. 

 She’s so tiny, he notes, eyes quickly scanning over her before resting on her face-taking in her lovely blue eyes, smattering of freckles, pink lips-

 Marinette has to rise up on her tiptoes to kiss him. It surprises Luka so much-the kissing, not how fucking small his best friend is-that he almost forgets to kiss back.

 Almost. 

 He slides his guitar case off his shoulder and lets it rest against the bakery steps as he bends down slightly to kiss her at a better angle. It’s a little awkward and slightly messy. Her teeth catch slightly on his bottom lip and his nose bumps into her cheek, but after a moment they get it right. He tilts her head back, thumb on her chin and slides another hand into her hair. Her lips part beneath him and he eagerly licks his way inside. 

 It’s messy, but less awkward and more intense. 

He’s not quite sure how long it would have lasted when the front door suddenly opens. Marinette pulls away swiftly, wiping at her mouth with one hand, cheeks flooded red. 

 Sabine Dupain-Cheng is frozen, like a deer in the headlights for one, long-drawn out moment before something smug settles behind her eyes. 

 “Ah, Luka,” she says, folding her arms over her chest as she leans against the doorframe. “Thank you for bringing Marinette home. We were about to have dinner. Would you like to come in?”

 Luka self consciously rubs the back of his neck. “Actually, I should be getting home. My mother’s expecting me.” 

 “Tomorrow then,” she says, firmly. “Marinette makes amazing scones.” 

 Said girl lets out a shrill, nervous laugh. “I’m sure Luka has better things to do then taste my scooooones-oh shit that come out wrong-”

 “Language,” Sabine admonies. “We’ll see you for dinner tomorrow night, Luka,” she continues, smiling at him. 

 Luka grins at Marinette. “I’ll text you when I get home,” he promises, slinging his guitar case over his shoulder once again. “Can’t wait to taste your scones tomorrow,” he adds, lithely hopping down the steps.

 Marinette gives him a withering glare that Luka has only ever seen the likes of on Ladybug when Chat is being especially annoying. “Keep that up and you aren’t getting any scones,” she hisses. 

 Luka smirks back and waves at the two black haired girls watching him leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Dupain-Cheng,” he promises. 

 As he turns around the corner he just catches Marinette whisper-shrieking “mama!” while Sabine just chuckles “Good, choice Marinette. He’s even more well behaved than the Agreste boy. And politer than the furry.”

 “Chat Noir is not a furr--how do you know what furries are-”

 Luka grins.

[spartanguard]

birthday treats

it’s an incredibly important day, y’all: IT’S @thesschesthair​‘S BIRTHDAY!!!!!! so here’s a shoutout to one of the funniest, sweetest, realest people around. I hope you have an absolutely fantastic day, love. here’s just a bit of some Hooking Utensil fluffiness that I hope helps make your day special—because you are the special-est!!! {rated light M; 1k words}

The early morning sun was streaming through the window; Sabine squinted at the bright light for a second and stretched, spine cracking as she moved, but the soreness in certain places lingered. (That seemed appropriate, because the memories of last night’s activities also wouldn’t be forgotten any time soon.)

They’d gotten distracted from the real reason she’d come over—finding themselves drawn to the bedroom rather than the kitchen—but at least had the common sense to put the refrigerated goods away properly. The rest were still scattered across the counter, around the covered bowl of dough; they’d gotten at least that far before other activities stole their attention.

And, knowing her, she was about to add to the disarray in what was normally a pristine and orderly kitchen. She hoped he wouldn’t have a heart attack when he woke up and found it like that, but she also knew a good way to distract him. (Well, a few.)

As quietly as she could, she opened all the cabinets until she found the rest of the things she needed, then set to work, setting the oil to heat on the stove, rolling out the (very well risen) dough on a floured counter and slicing it into squares (okay, and a few hearts), and wondering if the sizzle when she fried them would wake up her companion.

She was halfway through when she heard the creak of his old mattress and she held her breath—not like she was making any more noise than the oil was, but it helped her listen. No footsteps followed, so she relaxed and finished up; with any luck, she’d be done before he woke and could surprise him with some other early-morning treats.

There was always a small thrill of accomplishment when she finished a batch of beignets and saw them all laid out in front of her, crisp and fluffy and warm. They just needed one more thing, so she grabbed the bag of powdered sugar and the cinnamon shaker.

Each piece needed to be covered perfectly, so she sifted as carefully as she could. She was so focused on the task that she was oblivious to anything else going on around her—which meant she didn’t hear the squeak of the mattress springs or the subsequent soft footfalls. Not until it was too late, at least.

“That smells divine, love,” a deep voice, rough with sleep, said from behind her as a hand snaked around her waist. But it took her by surprise and she jumped toward the sound, swinging the sifter out in front of her as she turned.

Rogers managed to lean back and step away fast enough to avoid getting hit in the face with the utensil, but not fast enough to prevent getting hit with a cloud of confectioners sugar. He coughed as the powder settled on him, covering his chest hair and beard with fine white dust.

“Oh my god—I’m so sorry!” Sabine apologized profusely. “But, come on, man—don’t scare me like that!”

Rogers attempted to brush the sugar off his shoulder, but only managed to make more of a mess of it. “That certainly wasn’t my intention,” he said, stepping close again. “But can you blame a man when beignets are involved?”

She smirked at the funny way he said ‘beignet’, the way his accent didn’t quite curl around the word properly. “No, I guess I can’t. Especially when he’s my best taste-tester.”

“Best, or just most enthusiastic?” he countered, his hand and blunted wrist coming to rest at her waist; it hadn’t escaped her notice that he was only wearing boxer briefs. (Not like she had on much more than a tshirt and her own underwear, though.)

“Same thing,” she shrugged, turning in his hold to grab one of the finished pastries. She was slow to face him again, not wanting to disrupt the pile of sugar on top of the heart-shaped treat. “Happy Birthday,” she said with a smile and held it up to his lips.

He ducked around it to place a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, darling.” Then he carefully bit into it, and a moment later, let his head fall back with a groan of bliss. (She was intimately acquainted with that sound.)

“Good?”

“Incredible,” he replied, though it was a bit muffled.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to talk with food in your mouth?”

“Aye, and she also taught me not to play with my food, but that’s not stopping me.”

“No?”

“No.” And he promptly blew the mass of powdered sugar back at her.

She yelped in protest as the dust settled on her now; she could feel it on her nose and could only imagine how it looked against her black curls. “Seriously?” God, she could even feel it on her lashes when she blinked—and saw him giving her that devilish smirk that made her go weak in the knees. It seemed out of place with his typical serious persona, but it gave her a bit of a thrill that she was able to draw it out. “What happened to being a gentleman?” she teased.

Now it was his turn to shrug, and then he leaned forward for another bite of beignet. More powdered sugar fell in his chest hair.

“You know, you better make sure you wash this out soon,” she lectured, running the fingers of her free hand across his pec. “Otherwise it’s bound to get...sticky.”

“Oh?” he replied, his eyebrow quirking. “I think the same could be said for your tresses, love.”

“I guess we better take this to the shower then.”

A hungry look grew in his eyes, and not for the beignets.

An hour and a tank of hot water later, they were sitting back at the kitchen table, freshly washed, with the only erroneous bits of sugar on their faces. She leaned toward him to kiss a bit off the corner of his mouth, but he intercepted, capturing her lips with his.

“Happy Birthday,” she murmured breathlessly when they eventually broke apart.

“Thank you, love. It’s been the sweetest one yet.”

[notes-from-sarah]

Behind Her Beskar - At Home, Part I

A Little Trim

"Why doesn't Hera cut your hair?" Sabine combed her fingers through the brown tresses.

"I tried that once, she just could get over chopping off a part of someone's head." Kanan laughed. "Besides, I've seen your work, I trust you'll do a good job."

Sabine snipped through the uneven ends, probably from him trying to cut it himself. "Do you want me to add a little color too?" She didn't think he'd go for it. "I think a few yellow and orange streaks would look good. Maybe purple?"

Kanan laughed again. "Nah, just a trim, please."

Sabine smiled. "Sure thing."

Part  1, 2, 3, 4, 5  

AO3     FFN

[jordi-gali]

Sabine Tress