#back in the day I had Cross Marian too

[hibiki24681357]

I miss Garp. I miss Monkey D. Garp so much I'm so worried about him. Hot grandpa are you out there? I should start a twitter bot for counting the days till we see him again. Oda really got me plucked and clucking making Garp go Hero style MIA like that. Did he look badass when he stayed on that island to let the Marines get away YES HE DID and it was EPIC. But I miss him.

#hibikipost #In my honest opinion Garp sucks at being a grandpa and being a Proper Marine but he was good at ONE thing and that was fighting Roger #And him sucking at all those things is why I like him so much. Can't have a normal deadbeat asskicker shishou-figure in this economy #back in the day I had Cross Marian too

[contreparry]

happy friday!! 'Stubbornly waiting for them before going to sleep' for the pairing of your choice?

I really wanted to use this opportunity to write some Bethany and Carver twin stuff set in the modern!Thedas AU, so here's some of the Hawke twins with their older sibling for @dadrunkwriting!

"Shhhhhh!" The sharp whisper cut through the silence of the dark living room like a blade, and Bethany nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound right by her left ear. Fear gave way to fury, and she jabbed her elbow into Carver's stomach as revenge.

"Don't 'shhhhhhh!' me, Carver! You shhhhhhh!" Bethany hissed, even as she nervously glanced back to the stairs, where ma and da were sleeping. But the lights remained off and she didn't hear the creaking of bedsprings, so everyone else was still asleep. Good. If ma and da woke up and saw that Marian wasn't in bed... Bethany shuddered at the thought.

"I'm not stompin' around like a nuggalope," Carver grumbled, but he slipped his hand into Bethany's and squeezed it firmly. They were a little old for that usually- too sappy for eleven-year-olds- but tonight was different, and they both needed the comfort that only a sibling could provide.

Bethany woke up from a nightmare, a hospital nightmare, and the smell of bleach and air freshener lingered in her nose like a curse. Carver woke up too, even though he claimed he was already awake, and after some discussion they resolved to cross the hall and see Marian. She might be bossy and over-bearing, but Marian was... she was Marian! She could fix anything. She always knew what to do whenever there was a problem. And she could drive away nightmares with a laugh and a story and a mug of hot cocoa, no matter the season.

But when Carver and Bethany pushed Marian's door open, she wasn't there, and the awful stone that was sitting in Bethany's stomach only grew heavier as she realized that her older sister wasn't in her bed. She was never gone before- not without notice- and it felt wrong. Was wrong! She'd never leave without telling them. She never would! This was Marian, and she loved them! Marian promised to take her and Carver to the library tomorrow! She'd never run away, especially if it meant breaking a promise!

But Bethany kept thinking of all the terrible things that might make Marian leave them for good: ma and Marian fought last week, a terrible row about dressing for Chantry services. Carver spilled a whole glass of orange juice on Marian's mathematics workbook two days ago. Da told her that she would have to wait until next summer to take driving lessons earlier in the month, and Marian was still upset about it (Bethany could tell by the tightness in the corners of her mouth whenever Marian's friends talked about their summer courses). And Bethany played Marian's makeup- all her eyeliner and eyeshadows, all those dark and cool colors that made Marian look so serious and grown-up- and made a complete mess of everything. And sometimes Bethany saw the way Marian looked out past their familiar neighborhood and towards the skies, as if she wished she could grow a pair of giant wings and leave everything behind.

"We'll sit here," Carver whispered, sounding confident even though his hand felt a little clammy in hers. "And we'll wait for Marian to come back." Even though Bethany felt as if she was spiraling, Carver's faith in their sister was unshakeable. They sat down on the couch side by side and stared out into the dark, waiting for... for Marian to come back.

"Where d'you think she went?" Bethany asked, both terrified and eager for an answer.

"Probably out to see a friend," Carver whispered. "She'll be back." Visiting a friend made sense, Bethany thought. It was a reasonable idea, yet she couldn't shake the bone-deep fear that Marian would never return home.

"What if ma or da finds out?" Bethany asked, even though she already had a good idea of what might happen if ma and da woke up and found out that Marian wasn't home. They'd fight. Ma would cry. Da would run off to search for her. And Bethany and Carver would have to... have to wait. And waiting was the worst.

"She'll be back before they wake up. And we won't tell 'em," Carver replied stubbornly. They both fell silent then, though Carver reached up and grabbed the plush blanket that served as a decorative throw and wrapped it over their shoulders as they waited. And waited.

It felt like an age of waiting, but Bethany heard the soft metallic click of a key in the front door before it swung open and closed with a soft thud. The lock clicked again, and then quiet footsteps (so quiet, even in those heavy leather boots) walked down the front hallway and towards the stairs. Marian, Bethany thought as relief swept over her. Marian was home. She hadn't run away!

"Marian," Carver whispered, and a startled squeak of alarm echoed through the living room.

"Carver?! What's wrong, you should be in be- Bethany too?!" Marian exclaimed in a whisper, and in a few quick steps she was kneeling by the couch. She smelled like cigarette smoke and night air, and her hands and leather jacket were chilly against Bethany's bare arms, but Bethany hugged Marian fiercely and breathed her in. Marian hadn't run off. She was back, just like Carver said she would be.

"Had a nightmare," Bethany sniffed, relief breaking what her fear and nightmare hadn't. "About... about the hospital again."

"Oh, Bethany..." Marian said, sympathy heavy in her voice. "And you stayed up to keep her company, Carver?"

"Couldn't sleep anyways," Carver insisted, and Bethany felt Marian shift and drag Carver into her embrace. He squirmed half-heartedly for a second before he returned the hug.

"You two..." Marian sighed, and her breath ruffled Bethany's hair. "You're too good. Both of you. C'mon, up to bed. I'll tuck you in."

Bethany followed Marian's lead and the three of them crept up the stairs. Tomorrow, when she and Carver and Marian went to the library, Bethany would ask why Marian snuck out at night, why she smelled like cigarettes, and why she hadn't told either of them where she was going. But that could all wait for tomorrow, because now... now they were going to sleep.

#modern!thedas roommates au #my writing #da drunk writing circle

[1jemmagirl22]

Okay so I've been really busy for months and I'm finally gonna like post the two dozen tumblr posts about the obsessions I've been in since fucking May, seriously they are all saved in my drafts and in need of editing, but damn it if I'm not gonna comment on the Gilded Age first. Should I be back logging from SAB to Percabeth to Game of Thrones to Nancy Drew to ER before I do this? Most definitely? Will I be doing that? Of fucking course not so sit the fuck down mutuals I'm about to unload about the bloody fucking Gilded Age.

So I adore The Gilded Age in like this really twisted way, but damn is it good. So when I started season 2 and found myself, dare I say board, I was a bit scared what one of my friends said about the premiere would be accurate, bot was I wrong, no no, it was boardroom, it was annoyance so let's discuss the pros and cons of the Gilded Age season 2 episode 1 as well as what I hope to see in the coming episodes and what I absolutely love and want most about this show.

Okay cons first cause those are easier. The opening is boring. There is a substantive lack of Larry Russel in the episode. And worst of all, it's not, what's the word, a good opener. Ya that's the word. the first half hour is boring and the second half brilliant. It's suffering a bit from what I'd like to call second season syndrome, some shows produce a season 2 opener even better than it's premiere episode (The West Wing, Agents of Shield, Game of Thrones, Grey's Anatomy, and many more), others, however, don't, and Gilded Age did not, at least at first. The slow opening, mainly the whole undetermined time jump thing, really doesn't help with that either.

Now with that out of the way, the pros! Okay so, let's see Marian, Oscar, Larry, Gladys, and Mrs. Russel were all in top form. The acting as always was impeccable! The ending was *chefs kiss* dramatic perfection. And of course the costumes and the sets, oh perfection. But most of all, my favorite pro from season 2 episode 1 was the characters and the ships!

Okay so let's list shall we.

I'm gonna start with Oscar. Love how he's got like an actually arc this season, we given him some development, we're given him some social shift, oh it's gonna be brilliant! I love him and Gladys, I love him and his romantic friend who I';m sure was named at some point but I've forgotten cause it's been a while since I watched season 1. I love all of it! I'm so excited to see the chaos develop as the season progresses.

Next up, the Irish maid the the American footmen (I know they have names but It's too late to dig out the imdb and I don't remember their names) They were adorably angsty in season 1 and now they keep being adorable and angsty. All I have to say is please of fucking please Julian Fellows don't you Fucking dare pull a Daisy and William on them. Okay? Okay?

It would be a crime to not also mention Mr. and Mrs. Russel, the power couple goals those two give off are so amazing! Honestly worshipable.

And last but not least the only ship not present in this first episode, and annoyingly the ship I adore most, Larry and Marian! Gods I adored the so obvious chemistry friends to lovers vibes they had going for them in season 1, and Fitzsimmons I feel I'm gonna be neglected some of those vibes this season. I desperately hope Larry returns from Rhode Island soon, and even more so interact with Miriam, look I know the trailers say he's gonna have an affair but I'll be dammed if that stops me shipping their chemistry (Should I list the ships I've shopped who weren't together and actually with other people for long stretches of time in the last month alone? I'll do it anyway. Nancy and Ace, Carol and Doug, Magnum and Higgens like three separate Grey's Anatomy ships, Beth and Benny, like probably something else too it's been a busy month). Anyways I'm so excited to see more of them, fingers crossed for episode 2. Anywho hope everyone has a lovely day while I sink into another ship relapse *looks at Paramount+* ooo, I should relapse in 5-0!

#the gilded age #larry russell #oscar van rhijn #bertha russel #marian brooke #larry x marian #the gilded age season 2 #ships #shipping #the gilded age season 2 episode 1 #george russell #agnes van rhijn

[haventdecidedyet]

Robin Hood AU: Guy kills the Sheriff PT 3

2.1k words. Maybe the end because I don't know what's going to happen after this.

(PT 1) (PT 2)

The next morning Marian woke with a feeling of apprehension. Guy had told her they would begin their journey to England immediately. She perceived there was some danger they were fleeing but couldn’t understand what. She rose, dressed herself, and secured the Sheriff’s sword in a belt which she fastened around her waist. Her hair was loose and unevenly curled. She sat on the bed and waited to hear Guy’s key in the lock, her hand resting casually on the hilt of the sword. She glanced over her fingers, bare. No ring bound her to Guy.

When Guy came in she stood and he silently ushered her out of the room. Marian noticed his black leather gloves were on. As she left the squat, square building they’d been housed in, for the first time in days, Marian observed the heat of the morning, the clearness of the sky and the glare of the low sun reflecting on all the pale surfaces. She saw the boxy carriage which would take them back to the port. The horses were white and restless in their harnesses, the driver not present.

Robin Hood watched Guy and Marian crossing the courtyard. He saw that Marian was not chained and she walked calmly. Stoic as always. Guy’s strides were long in his black boots and he kept himself close beside Marian. Robin could have shot him directly, but stuck to his no-killing policy. He would confront Guy, and hold him until he could get Marian behind him to the rest of the gang, and then they would knock Guy down if they must, to get safely away.

Robin’s first arrow flew and stuck neatly into the side of the carriage. Marian jumped in surprise. Her heartrate picked up, her mind turning immediately to Robin. She tried to calm herself by reasoning that the arrow could belong to anyone else, but like Guy the previous day, she had a strange conviction.

Guy had almost expected it. Still, his anger rose to something almost uncontrollable, and he spun, sword drawn, his face thunderous.

‘Hood!’ he roared. His eyes searched desperately, but there was no need because Robin stepped out into the open, bow raised.

‘Nice to see you again, Gisborne.’ Robin saw Guy had positioned himself to shield Marian.

Horror was dawning on Marian’s face. Robin wasn’t dead. Her heart felt wrung out; her grief had been pointless. And then, something made her sure that Guy had known – the speed with which he had risen to his guard. His abrupt greeting. Marian felt her conscience engaged in a battle, debating who she should run to, or from.

Guy walked slowly towards Robin. Robin had his bow strung and pulled tight, trained on Guy’s chest, but they both knew it would take more to make him shoot. Guy calmly came within touching distance of the bow. Marian watched them, unable to move, and trying to work out if either would kill the other. She knew they hated each other. She was half of the reason. And Robin hated Guy for the treachery he had almost committed, and why shouldn’t she too? Yet she didn’t. She felt resentful towards Robin for being so full of his own sense of justice, and towards Guy for still being selfish enough to deceive her.

Quickly, Guy gave a violent swipe to Robin’s bow which caused him to stumble sideways and lose his arrow, but he recovered himself, dodging the stab of Guy’s sword. Marian gave an indistinct cry of protest. Guy didn’t want to kill but he didn’t know what alternatives he had. The swipes of his sword were met by Robin’s bow, which was hardly able to withstand the blows. Robin was a capable fighter nevertheless. He hit Guy hard in the stomach and as he crumpled Robin was able to knock him to the ground, trapping the wrist of the hand which held the sword under his knee and immediately bringing his hands to Guy’s throat. Guy thrashed, teeth bared, using his strength to almost roll over, Robin desperately digging his thumbs into his neck.

‘Marian! Go!’ Robin shouted out urgently, his first real acknowledgement of Marian’s presence. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, knowing he couldn’t hold Guy for long.

Marian stared back in distress. She wouldn’t move. In that moment she was almost repulsed by Robin. He seemed inexplicably arrogant, playing the hero, struggling with Guy on the ground so she could run past untouched. He hadn’t changed, she reasoned, but she had. She wanted to love him but she couldn’t. Guy was terrible, she knew, she told herself so, but she was uncontrollably angry seeing Robin’s hands on him. Two engagements and she had to break one.

She gave a minute shake of her head. Robin’s eyes were already clouding with confusion as he saw her reluctance. Marian knew it was impossible to explain to him that she wanted to be what Robin saw as Guy’s prisoner – the strange Stockholm syndrome she’d developed.

Robin wondered if Marian feared for herself or for him, if she doubted his ability to make a smooth escape. Or if something else held her back. As if to prove something, he lifted one hand and drew his sword. He poised it over Guy’s chest. Guy watched this with some amusement, and obligingly lay still. He realised it wasn’t up to him now; he was relying on Marian’s decision. If she chose Robin, then he still held his sword. Robin knelt on his right arm but with enough power he could push him off and strike.

Seeing Robin’s sword hovering, Marian rushed forward decisively. She drew her own sword, the Sheriff’s sword – with no intention to wound anyone, but to show that she wasn’t impotent.

‘Robin. Let him go.’

Robin looked up, and as he observed the sword in Marian’s hand, his thoughts began to align. She couldn’t be a prisoner. Gisborne had let her arm herself. The only other option was that they were in alliance. They were reconciled. The Sheriff was dead and the King was alive. Robin thought he understood. It had been Marian. Indirectly, it had been Marian.

Even this understanding, however, couldn’t make Robin believe that Marian genuinely refused to escape.

‘Let Guy go,’ she said, authoritative.

‘Why?’ The word didn’t really leave Robin’s mouth, his lips only formed the shape of it. Marian looked upon his crumpled brow and her pain was absolute.

‘Leave, Robin.’ This was more direct. Guy’s eyes shone as he looked at Robin Hood’s sword. He didn’t try to show his triumph but he felt overcome with it. He had been chosen.

Slowly, Robin pulled back. Guy winced and sighed. Robin’s face was anguished as he stood and regarded Marian’s determined position. But he had to relent. He backed away and Marian watched, trying to communicate some of her sorrow in her eyes as well as her certainty. Robin raised his hand in a makeshift gesture of friendship.

With Guy back on his feet and looking ready to enforce Marian’s instruction, Robin disappeared around the corner. Guy and Marian didn’t know that when out of sight he stopped to rest with his hands on his knees, breathing unevenly in and out. Thinking of the King and of Marian. And Gisborne. Robin tried not to think of Gisborne because he didn’t like to feel himself given up to and submerged by hatred. He knew fighting for Marian was selfish. And Robin Hood shouldn’t be selfish, or jealous, or spiteful. Robin Hood wasn’t used to being rejected either. He couldn’t see how Marian could forgive and trust Guy so easily. But he knew Guy had always loved Marian and that must play some part in it.

Guy ushered Marian toward the carriage and she acquiesced numbly, mounting the steps and seating herself on the forward-facing bench. As Guy did not immediately follow, she hid her face in her hands. A few tears dripped onto her fingers. She did not look up when Guy leapt into the carriage and sat opposite her. The door shut, enclosing them in the windowless space – the only light came from a shaft in the roof. They were rocked from side to side as the wheels ground and propelled them forward, the driver having taken up his seat.

Guy looked upon Marian’s bowed head and the brown locks of hair which fell about her wrists. He didn’t know how to talk to her or how angry she was with him. He distractedly took off his gloves and laid them down beside him.

‘You lied to me, telling me Robin was dead.’ Marian said this abruptly, without intonation, having removed her hands from her face.

‘I thought that he was,’ Guy replied, his voice clipped.

Marian said nothing.

‘The Sheriff thought he had Hood’s death secured,’ Guy clarified, ‘but he managed to make it out alive.’

‘And you didn’t know.’ Marian was willing to believe Guy, but she was tormented by her personal shame. She had written Robin off so easily. With him seemingly out of the picture, she had made a decision to change her life entirely, and she had dishonoured all promises made previously. She was sorry and she didn’t know what would have happened had she not been deceived. But she was with Guy now. She had to fight the feeling that it was a position which should be condemned.

‘I saw him yesterday,’ admitted Guy quietly. ‘I couldn’t tell you because I couldn’t lose you.’

Marian considered the fact that Guy had believed she might change her mind about the engagement if Robin was alive. When she saw Robin, she had thought of changing her mind. However, it hadn’t been the result of an instinctual urge to be with him; it had been a matter of conscience. She had felt her duty to Robin’s cause and their alliance. But, she thought, she didn’t have to abandon that cause by being with Guy.

Guy was prepared to change. Marian had known it for a long time. She had broken through his callous exterior multiple times only for him to retreat again because she couldn’t extricate him from the Sheriff’s cruel manipulations. She had found who he really was: vulnerable, wounded and lonely. Passionate about her, but also insecure and desperate for her affection, and in response to his care she naturally found herself giving it to him.

‘You shouldn’t have hidden it from me,’ Marian said to him. ‘I trusted you. And that means you need to trust me.’ Guy met her gaze, his eyes troubled but apologetic.

‘I am sorry about Robin Hood. I always feared your feelings for him. When you ran away after your father’s death I had to doubt. And when he held you hostage, I thought I could be assured that he had no hold over your heart, but then there was the Nightwatchman, and your attempt on the Sheriff’s life…’

‘Shh,’ Marian said. ‘I have deceived you awfully, Guy. Perhaps more than you even know as of yet.’ At this he frowned and his mouth turned downwards. ‘But you must know that I was deceiving myself too. I was pretending to myself. That – that I…’ Marian suddenly cast her eyes down.

‘What?’ Guy murmured, a little disgruntled.

Marian smiled thoughtfully and patted the space on the bench next to her. After a small hesitation, Guy moved across to sit there, and was reminded of how they’d sat side by side, resolutely not speaking, during their travel from Nottingham to Portsmouth.

‘I spent a long time pretending,’ Marian continued seriously, ‘that I didn’t love you.’

Guy turned his head to her, but she didn’t look at him. She spoke again:

‘But I do.’

Guy’s hand sought her cheek so he could tilt her face towards him. He wanted to look into her eyes. She was only looking at his lips. He brought his face closer to hers, his nose brushing her cheek.

‘I love you,’ she whispered, just before their mouths met and she was cut off.

They kissed for a long time, Guy’s arms encircling Marian and holding her to him, breaking off a few times to breathe hurriedly against each other’s lips. Eventually Marian buried her face in the leather of Guy’s shoulder, his chin resting against her temple. Guy felt content in a way he never had before – not in his memory, anyway. He felt he could stay forever with Marian against his chest, feeling her gentle breathing, his fingers nestling in her hair.

Marian too felt all anguish subside. She listened to the rattling of the carriage and the whisper of Guy’s breath next to her ear. She couldn’t help wondering if Robin would ever have been able to fully shield her like this, closing her off from the rest of the world with his arms. She thought not.

#bbc robin hood #robin hood bbc #guy of gisborne #robin hood #marian of knighton #guy x marian #fanfic #richard armitage #sir guy of gisborne #my writing

[sparrowandbee]

Chapter 6 | Chapter 8

The Sparrow: Chapter 7: Before the Games

Synopsis: Haymitch and Marian have their last late-night conversation after Marian’s interview.

Warnings: Mention of alcoholism and substance abuse, mention of death, mention of violence, grief/loss.

Author’s Note: Ah! I’m so excited to be publishing one of my favorite chapters. It’s shorter than usual but I think it really hits at the heart of both of these characters that I love so so dearly. Enjoy!! :)

Word Count: 890

I left the stage and immediately found Haymitch, just as Alder was being announced.

“Good job not puking, M.” He ‘complimented’ me, a playful twinkle in his eyes.

Without even thinking, I wrapped my arms around his torso, my head meeting his warm chest. He returned the hug with no hesitation. His large callused hands felt warm against the bare skin of my back.

We didn’t quite realise how much we were touching until we pulled away to an awkward silence.

I crossed my arms over my chest- a habit now- “thanks,” I replied to his earlier comment. “That got… personal,” I bounced slightly, feeling the biting frost of the artificial air from above on my uncovered arms and collarbone.

“Here,” Haymitch took off his checked burgundy sport jacket and draped it over my shoulders. I didn’t even think to protest as I wrapped the welcomed warmth around me.

“You were really good out there. Seriously, I know it was difficult but it made you look really sympathetic,” he reassured me.

I felt like I had to address the elephant in the room as we both got quiet. Cesar had touched a sore spot.

I didn’t like talking about my mother. I’m sure the Capitol only saw the sad story of another District 12 orphan, but for a lot of people in the Seam, she had a reputation.

She was destructive when she drank, not just at home but at the Hobb and too many business establishments to count. People averted their gaze when she walked by, scared they would trigger her or catch her on a particularly reckless day.

Everyone knew to avoid her.

While alcohol numbed Haymitch out, it (and whatever else she was consuming) made her extremely violent.

“Edalia Kuns was my mother,” I told him, too ashamed to look him in the face, wanting to be clear about the question that was likely triggered by the interview.

I actually didn’t know if that was common knowledge. I never interacted with anyone long enough to find out. I just wanted to stay as removed from her as I could.

“I know,” he replied, to my surprise and slight disappointment.

So was this all pity?

Pity for the daughter of the crazy woman and the cowardly rebel?

My parents’ story was a classic cautionary tale- a story that had bred a pathetic girl who was about to die… of course he wanted me to fight.

In his eyes I was just a poor lamb led to slaughter-

“My mom was Ephra. That was her name,” he said, silencing my racing thoughts. “She would have loved to meet you, M. You remind me of her, sometimes. Her compassion and her loyalty-”

He stopped himself though I could tell he wanted to say more.

“Ephra’s a beautiful name. And I’m sure she was too.”

He smiled. A beautiful smile I knew I would never tire of seeing.

“So is Edalia. For everyone that matters right now, Edalia is just a beautiful name. Don’t worry.”

“But now everyone knows that I have nothing to fight for. No one to go home to.” I looked up to him, letting a bit of fear slip up through my quiet words.

“Hey,” he held my hand and my gaze in his, “remember that you’re going to win out of spite. They want you to think like that- and you’re gonna fight to prove them wrong.”

“Is that how you won?” It slipped out. I internally scolded myself for being so impulsive. He didn’t let go of my hand, but didn’t reply either.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No. It’s alright,” He took deeper breaths, more conscious. “Sort of. Obviously I had my family back home, but what really fueled me to fight so hard was my anger. Everyone said I couldn’t win. They… I could see it in their eyes how much they wanted me dead. How disposable I was. If it wasn’t for that anger, I don’t think I would have fought so hard. I needed to prove them all wrong.”

I nodded but stayed silent, in case he needed the space to say more.

“I was the last name called, you know? So…” He took another breath. “So…”

“If it wasn’t for the quarter quell…” I finished his thought for him. He somberly nodded as his blue eyes met the concrete floor below.

“I would have never gone in. And they’d be alive. And maybe I wouldn’t be such a-”

“No, Haymitch,” I placed my free hand on his cheek, not caring if it was too forward or too impulsive. I caressed my fingers against the brown stubble on his face, a few silver hairs peaking out already. I couldn’t believe he didn’t see the funny, caring man I did. “Don’t say that. I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Go upstairs. Alder and I will meet you there soon.”

I couldn’t quite interpret his tone. He wasn’t angry, just… sad. No matter what I said or did I could never ease that sadness because in just a day I would be adding to his pain, too.

I nodded, squeezed his hand and left as quickly as the high heels would take me.

This was too dangerous. It should have never gotten to this… I thought through my tears as I stepped onto the empty elevator.

All I did was give him one more person to mourn.

—

Next Chapter

Masterlist

#the hunger games #haymitch #haymitch abernathy #hunger games au #hunger games fanfiction #thg haymitch #district 12 #hunger games

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Looking for Help

Thorns & Jasmine

In which Aska goes to find help.

Warnings: None

Previous | Masterlist | Next

“Marian, Marian, there’s a plant creature at the river.”

Marian turned towards the boy running quickly into her direction while shouting at the top of his lungs. Not that this was unusual, Luke came running at least every second day, excited over something he had found or seen.

“Do you mean Caldyn?” she asked.

“No, of course not. I know Caldyn,” Luke said with righteous indignation in his voice. “It’s a small one. Like a dog? But it’s all leafy!”

Aska? Marian furrowed her brows. She’d seen the dog before, but Caldyn didn’t bring it often. He had told her that the dog liked neither the river nor too many people, so he preferred to leave it at his cave. Perhaps he was coming to visit and the dog had run ahead? It could be an explanation, but it didn’t seem very plausible.

“Thank you, William, exactly like that. I’ll check back tonight,” she said, turning her attention back to the man she had been speaking to before Luke had shouted her name.

William nodded, already weighing the hammer in his hand and eyeing the hut he was about to fix up. It had been standing empty for a while, and wind and rain had dislodged a part of its roof. But now she was expecting a new resident to arrive in a few weeks, and she wanted to make sure they’d find more than a drafty home and waterlogged furniture when they arrived.

“I’ll check it out. Thank you, Luke.”

It wasn’t like she had anything important to do, so she might as well go and see what this was about. If it was Caldyn and Aska, she could meet them halfway to the village. If it wasn’t… well, she’d see, then.

She followed the path out of the settlement, along the river. The fog still hadn’t lifted fully, but she could see some steps ahead. She could even make out the other shore, and after a few minutes, the shape of a small creature running along. It barked as it noticed her, and she recognized the familiar shimmer of green leaves on its body.

It was alone, and it was agitated. Marian’s stomach dropped as she realized that Caldyn was nowhere to be seen. The last time it had behaved like this had been the day she had met this strange kalani for the first time. He had fallen into the river, had been separated from his pet. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been a bit cautious at first. Despite living in the Wilds for a decade already, she had never gotten to know any of their people, only met them in passing. It hadn’t taken long for her to realize that the differences between her kind and his weren’t so big after all.

She hadn’t hesitated to invite him to visit their village, and been so happy when he had followed their invitation. She had never asked what had happened, why he had left his home and his people behind, but even her little knowledge about his kind was enough to recognize the scars on his body. It made her heart ache to think about it, to imagine that someone had hurt him. There was a kindness to him, in the way he always offered to help, in his quiet smile, enjoying when those around him were happy. And she could tell that he was lonely. Sometimes he visited, just to sit somewhere for a while, to listen to the people of Murkside going about their days.

Marian really hoped nothing had happened to him.

As soon as she arrived at the spot where Caldyn usually crossed the river, she pushed all those thoughts aside. It wasn’t too deep, but on a day as cool as this, Marian wasn’t exactly looking forward to getting drenched. As she stared into the water, trying to figure out how deep it was, she saw the outline of a huge rock. It would have been nice if it was closer, larger, then she could get to the other side without sinking into the water up to her chest. Really, really nice.

Marian raised her hand towards the rock, concentrating. It was harder if she wasn’t touching the ground, but seeing the target of her magic could work. She could feel the rock, most of it still buried deep in the riverbed, and the earth that surrounded it. There was a second rock, fully buried under a thin layer of silt. If she could get it up, if she could get both up a bit, just a bit…

She turned her hand, concentrating, feeling the earth shift as she pushed. The water became cloudy and she closed her eyes, no longer able to see what she was doing, but feeling it. The buried rock rose, shifting away from the one only half embedded in the ground. They drifted apart, the hollow beneath them filling with water first, then with earth as the ground itself shifted to hold them in place. Then the larger one cracked, a piece splitting off, sinking slowly to the ground. She pushed it further, then buried it, halfway between the large boulder and the other shore.

After she had made sure that all three rocks were sitting firmly in the ground, Marian let go of her magic and opened her eyes. She never crossed the river herself, so she hadn’t thought of that, but it might make it easier for Caldyn, too. The thought of the kalani made her smile falter and she gathered her skirts, lifting them as she stepped into the water. Balancing from rock to rock, the water reached only up to above her knees; still unpleasant, but better than getting fully wet.

The moment she arrived on the other shore, the little dog came running up to her. After greeting her excitedly, sniffing her wet shoes, it started to run, only to stop after a few steps, looking back at her.

“I’m coming,” she said, not sure if the creature would be able to understand her words. If it didn’t, it seemed to at least understand their meaning, for it ran on and Marian tried her best to keep up. She only knew Caldyn lived in a cave, somewhere on this side of the river, but he had never shown it to her.

It wasn’t easy to run through the forest like that. Where the dog could slip through narrow spots or under low branches, she had to find her way around, all while she tried not to get her skirts or shawl entangled somewhere. When Aska finally stopped, she was out of breath, her skin sticky with sweat and the moisture the fog left behind.

“Well… where is he?” Marian asked, looking around.

Aska sat at the foot of what seemed to be a cliffside, stretching to both sides. The ground was barren here, the nearest trees a good three steps away from the rock. The dog whined, rising onto its hind legs, front paws on the wall. Finally Marian looked up, only to see the dark opening of a cave, a bit higher than she was tall.

“Is he up there?”

Of course, there was no reply.

“Caldyn?” she called out, listening.

There was no reply, either, and her worry grew. If he was there, what had happened that he couldn’t even reply to her? Only one way to find out.

She stepped up to the wall, trying to find a way to get up. As much as she liked rock, this seemed impractical. There were some shallow ridges and edges, but she wasn’t exactly a good climber, and wearing a long skirt was no help, either. For a moment, she wondered how Caldyn might have gotten up, before she realized that he was way taller than she was, and could probably grab the edge of the cave easily.

Tracing the rock, she had another idea. What had worked at the river might work here as well. She just had to be way more careful. As she moved her hand across the surface, she closed her eyes, listening within. She wasn’t a particularly powerful earth mage, but she could feel… she didn’t even know how to put it into words. It was like the nature of the earth, the mood. It was stable, it wouldn’t mind her pulling a bit, forming a step or two. Nevertheless, she kept alert as she started to form the rock, to shape a small ledge at the height of her knee, then another one at the height of her hip. When the earth stayed calm, she added two more.

When she opened her eyes, she found the dog staring at her and smiled.

“I’m checking, okay? If he’s up there, I’ll help him.”

She could only hope she wasn’t promising too much.

Climbing up was hard, even with the additional ledges, and she cursed under her breath as her toes got caught in her skirt. Then, finally, she had made it up, pulling herself over the ledge.

There wasn’t much light falling into the cave, but enough to see the motionless figure lying on the floor. She instantly recognized green bark and brown leaves and scrambled to her feet, hurrying over.

“Caldyn?” she asked again, her voice strained.

There was no reaction, not until she knelt down next to him, reaching for his shoulder to turn him around. Then he screamed, struggling to get away from her, and she quickly pulled her hand back, her heart racing.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s me. Marian.”

He didn’t seem to hear her, trying to curl up, to hide his face. He was shaking, and the sounds he made were foreign and familiar at the same time; they spoke of fear and sadness.

At least he was alive, but whatever it was that he was trapped in, she had to help him. He didn’t seem to be hurt, at least not at first glance; there was a shimmer of gold on his left arm, and for a moment, she thought that it looked pretty, before she realized that this could very well be his kinds’ blood.

“Caldyn? It’s me, Marian. There’s no need to be afraid. I won’t hurt you.” That she even had to say those words made her feel sick; that they didn’t seem to help at all even more. “Aska went to get me, so I came. I’m here to help you, but I don’t know how.”

For a moment, she had the feeling that his posture went from doesn’t-hear-a-thing terrified to tries-to-listen terrified, but she couldn’t be sure. He didn’t reply to her words, if he even understood them. Perhaps he needed something more familiar than a human voice.

“I’ll try to get Aska up here, alright?”

Marian didn’t even hope for a reply this time. As she took a step to the side, her foot touched something, sending it rolling over the rough floor. She looked around until she found the object, roughly half the size of her head. She picked it up.

A hollow pumpkin, with an opening at one end, framed with something she couldn’t make out in the dark. Some kind of container perhaps, or a bottle?

Could he have been too sick to leave his cave, and run out of water? She had no idea how long a kalani could survive without it, or how long he was lying here already, and she couldn’t expect to get a clear answer out of him. She would get some, Marian decided, and see if it helped. If it didn’t… well it would do no harm, either.

“Caldyn? I’ll get you some water. I will come back, I promise.”

She wasn’t sure if he had heard her or understood her words, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. She picked up the cork, lying on the floor next to her, and walked back to the cave entrance, to climb down; to do the one thing she could do, that might help — hopefully.

The dog was still waiting below, now watching Marian as she jumped to the ground.

“You want to get up to your friend, don’t you?”

Marian only hesitated for a moment. What if the dog usually didn’t go up into the cave, what if it would hurt itself if it jumped down? But there was no way to get the answer to that, either, and the way Aska clawed at the rock told her that it really wanted to get up, used to it or not.

She placed the canteen on the floor, reaching out for the dog. It didn’t even hesitate, it almost crawled into her arms, holding still as she rose.

“Okay, I have no idea how this will work, but…”

She lifted the dog higher, glad that it was only small. Leafy paws scratched over her chest and shoulders, finding something to step on. Then the dog climbed her head, pulling her hair, making her wince. But it worked, somehow, and with a last struggle, and a scratch that would surely bleed across her forehead, it scrambled into the cave.

As she picked up the canteen, Marian listened, but there was only the quiet sound of paws, then nothing. She sighed, looking at the canteen in her hand. Where should she get water? No human would just pick water from one of the many rivers, not if they didn’t want to spend a day or two in the outhouse, but kalani? Marian decided to be safe rather than sorry, to fetch the water at the well in the settlement. She might as well bring some food and a blanket or two as well, even if she didn’t know if it would help.

The way back to the river took Marian a bit longer. Not sure which way the dog had led her, Marian followed the cliff until it met the water, then turned upstream until she found the spot where she could cross it. She hurried along the path, going straight into her house as soon as she had reached Murkside.

She grabbed a blanket, then another, stuffing both into a tattered bag that was lying on the floor, usually used to transport research material to the ravine and back. Caldyn’s canteen in one hand, one of her own waterskins in another, she went to the well, filling them both. Deciding against going to the cook and possibly answering questions, she took whatever food she had in her house. She found an almost full loaf of bread and some cold roast, wrapping both carefully into some cloth before putting it into the bag with the rest.

Before she left, she placed a note on the desk.

[I’m with Caldyn. He isn’t well.

I might stay for a while.

There is no danger, don’t worry.

🌹]

[ID: The top image is a banner showing red, glowy plants. Across it   is written the title of the story, Thorns & Jasmine, in a bright to dark green gradient. The letters are slightly thorny looking. All other  images in this post are purely ornamental lines. End ID.]

Tagging: @dont-touch-my-soup​​​​ @whump-cravings​​​​​

#Thorns and Jasmine #whump #fantasy whump #non human whumpee #my writing

[starbudspresents]

Re.Gray 030 - Whereabouts Unknown

[ Masterlist ] [ Read on AO3 ] [ Raws ]

Summary: Lenalee gives Allen a well-earned earful.

♦ 61

30th Night - Whereabouts Unknown

Narration: The Earl is now targetting Exorcist Marshals. Narration: Exorcists worldwide are assembling into four teams. Narration: The mission this time is to safeguard the marshals.

Dollface: Geheheheheh!! Dollface: It's no use, no use!

♦ 62

Dollface: You can't save your marshals!! sfx: bibi [chittering] sfx: gagah [gurgling] Dollface: Noah and Akuma have joined forces to go after them. Dollface: Even as you're busy destroying us—

sfx: don [Kanda finishes it off] Kanda: Shut up already.

Daisya: Let's move, Kanda.

sfx: chin [Kanda sheathes Mugen]

♦ 63

Daisya: What a pain in the ass. Daisya: They just keep coming, one after the other. We're not getting anywhere here.

sfx: zah [Kanda sweeps between Daisya and Marie, eyes fixed ahead]

Kanda: Because they're trying to slow us up.

Marie: Just getting to the marshal is proving difficult.

Kanda: Tch. sfx: ira ira ira [fuming]

Marie: What's the matter, Kanda? You're steaming.

Kanda: Am not!

Daisya: Seriously though, are we ever going to catch up? Daisya: Marshal Tiedoll doesn't even seem to be in this town anymore. Daisya: He's so fast on his feet, dammit. Is he a man or a bullet?

Marie: He's probably around here somewhere, painting.

Daisya, side: ahaha Daisya: We've had an oddball for a master too, haven't we, Kanda.

sfx: boso Kanda: I fucking hate that old man.

Daisya & Marie: Oh... Daisya & Marie: So that's why he's so pissy.

Daisya: Well... at least he's better than Marshal Cross...

♦ 64

30th Night - Whereabouts Unknown

♦ 65

Lavi: Allen. Lavi: Hey, Allen. Wakey-wakey.

sfx: vu—n vu—n vu—n [Allen snoring as Lavi doodles on his face with a paintbrush] On Allen's forehead: MEAT (BUN?)

Lavi: C'mon, the train's here~

Bookman: What are you doing, you brat! sfx: goh [thwack]

Lavi: He's dreaming about Marshal Cross again.

Allen, side: Guaahhh... snore... snore... you're a real brute, Master...

Lenalee: Everyone get on quick! If we miss this one, the next isn't till tomorrow!

sfx: purururu [train rolling]

♦ 66

Allen: Haa~~~ sfx: guttari [wrung out] Allen: Being on my way back to Master is making my dreams worse... Allen: I'm such an easy mark... Arrow: Self-deprecating ► Allen: But it is what it is, I shouldn't complain... Allen, side: Doodles're finally coming off. sfx: basha basha [splish splash]

Komui: I don't issue orders to the marshals; the Grand Marshals do. Komui: They're given a whack of missions at once, then move at their discretion in the field. Komui: That's why I don't know where any of them actually are right now. Komui: That said, three of the four do call home at least once a month, so we have a vague idea of their whereabouts... sfx: bishih [raises a finger forcefully] Komui: The last one is the problem!

sfx: hah [Allen flinches with a tiny gasp]

sfx: do—n [dramatic gong-knell] Komui: Marshal Cross Marian!! finger: CROSS MARIAN side: detail-oriented Komui

♦ 67

Komui: As you know, Marshal Cross has not contacted Headquarters in nearly four years. Komui: The various rumours boil down to a) "He's dead" and b) "He's ignoring his missions and playing around"... Komui, side: Personally, I was in camp B! Komui: BUT THEN! Komui: You showed up, Allen! sfx: bishi! [Komui now points his pinky finger at Allen; it apparently has Allen's name written on it]

Allen: !?

Komui: You were with him for three whole years!! Komui: Every day!! sfx: fufufufufu [huffing laughter through his nose]

Allen: I-It's no good, though? I have no idea where my master is.

Lavi: How do we find someone whose whereabouts are unknown? Lavi, side: Impossible!

Allen, side: I really don't know.

Komui, side: Indeed. Komui: The other teams are made up of the other marshals' disciples, Komui: but in your case, we'll have Tim be your guide.

Lavi & Allen: Tim Canpy!?

sfx: gashi gashi [Tim gnawing on a curtain]

Allen, side: Leave the curtain alone.

Komui: Unlike our other golems, Tim was made by Cross, not our scientists. He should be able to sense his contractor's1 whereabouts. Komui: Combine that with Allen's intimate knowledge of his habits, and we'll have Cross squirming in our talons!2 Komui, side: AHAHAHAHA [in English] forehead: MAD

Lenalee: That's a bit much, brother mine...

Allen, side: Are we arresting him?

♦ 68

sfx: puri [Allen peels the bandage off his cursed eye] sfx: pori pori [he prods around the area tentatively] Allen: Still can't see with it, but it doesn't seem to hurt that much anymore. Allen: !

sfx: gatan gatan [train trundling along at a good clip]

Allen: What are you doing out here, Lenalee...?

sfx: niko [Lenalee smiles, but it's a knife] Lenalee: Nothing. sfx: suta suta [she walks off very briskly]

♦ 69

Allen, side: Um? Allen: She seems a bit... Allen: Was that a bursting blood vessel? Allen, side: She was smiling, though...

Bookman: Now! Bookman: Let's go over what we know.

sfx: ji— [Lenalee peering]

Lavi: Aw, you've already wiped it off? It was so funny though. sfx: pupupu [snickering]

Allen: Knock it off already.

Bookman: Pipe down over there. Bookman: At the moment, we're heading through eastern Germany. Bookman: How is Tim Canpy?

Box: Sensing in progress. sfx: ji— [intense concentration]

Lenalee: East and further east, seems like.

Allen: At too great a distance, seems like it can only pick up the general direction he's in. Allen, side: Komui said so, anyway. Allen: Master must still be very far away.

♦ 70

Lenalee: Just how far has he gone...?

Tim, label: Sensing in progress. Tim: .....

Lenalee: Marshal Cross doesn't bill the Order for his expenses, so there's no paper trail to follow.

Lavi: Huh? How's he pay his way, then? Out of pocket?

Allen: Borrowing, mostly. Allen: He mooches off the lovers and acquaintances he's got all over the place. Allen: Until I joined, I didn't know one could bill the Order. Allen: And when things were really pinched, I'd gamble.

Everyone else, overhead: YOU'D WHAT

Allen: Huh? Allen: What? W-What?

sfx: bachi [Allen's and Lenalee's eyes meet] sfx: pui [she turns her head away] sfx: ga—n [Allen is taken aback]

Allen: She turned away!!

Bookman: By the way, Allen, your eye still won't open?

♦ 71

Bookman: It would be well for us if it healed quickly, so you can keep an eye on our surroundings. Bookman: According to word from our compatriots, the Akuma are working to impede everyone's progress. Bookman: Catching up with the Marshal will mean long train rides. Bookman: To avoid getting civilians caught up in things, we need your eye for snap judgements.

Allen: ..... sfx: chira [glance] Allen: Yes, sir.

Lunch-stand: Cheers. sfx: chari [drops change in Lenalee's palm]

Allen: Lenalee?

♦ 72

Allen: Er... Allen: Suppose we haven't had a chance to talk since then... have we. Allen: Back then, when you...

Allen, flashback: Why did you stop me!?!

Lenalee, flashback: Of course I did, you're one of us...!!

♦ 73

Allen: I'm very sorry.

sfx: dosah [Lenalee settles her large, full bag of lunch purchases on the back of his bowed head]

Allen: Bwah!?

Lenalee: Just stay like that.

Allen: Wha? Allen: Oh. All right. sfx: fugugu [already feeling the strain of the weight]

Lenalee: I haven't forgiven you yet. Lenalee: You're selfish, Allen.

♦ 74

Lenalee: Just because you're the only one who can see the souls of the Akuma... Lenalee: you take it all on yourself. Lenalee: You fight to be the only casualty. Lenalee: What are the rest of us here for, then? Lenalee: Don't just write us off. Lenalee: Why don't you Lenalee: fight with us?

♦ 75

Lenalee: I... hate it. Lenalee: That left eye of yours. Lenalee: I hate it.

Allen: Sorry... Allen: Lenalee, Allen: thank you for saving me.

sfx: bah [Lenalee glares] sfx: biku [Allen startles]

Lenalee: However many times it takes!

♦ 76

sfx: bah [she snatches the bag off Allen's head and strides off]

Allen: ? Allen: Am I... forgiven, then...? Allen, side: Still seems a bit cross...

sfx: dotatata [the door clatters shut behind her with a bit of extra force]

Allen: .....

sfx: purururururu [train's engine heating up]

Allen: Damn— Allen: I've got to board...

sfx: gah [a large hand seizes his wrist as he turns to run for the train; it's the lunch-stand proprietor, who looks unsettlingly like the "Uncle Sam" of American wartime propaganda posters]

♦ 77

Allen: !?

Georg: That thing on your chest. Georg: It's a cross, right?

sfx: gashah [steam releases as the train begins to roll] sfx: goooo [it gets up to speed and soars along]

Lavi: Uh, Lavi: where's Allen?

♦ 78

"Lounge" vol. 2

Q. Why does Kanda call Allen "beansprout"? A. Haven't the faintest. That pony-tailed menace is so rude, honestly. What part of me comes off sproutish? Hmph.

Q. How much money does Cross owe, exactly? A. Ugh... I may be sick...

Q. What colour are Allen's eyes really? A. Ahh, this question has been asked a lot. Well, the short answer is "silver-grey". Making them blue and red in the colour edition was simply a whim on the parts of Hoshino and manager Y-shi. Truth be told, they only settled on silver-grey quite recently.

Q. What's the bath situation at the Order? Does everyone have their own, en-suite? A. Baths? Well. We don't have any in our quarters, no. Shall I give you the tour? [wobbles to his feet] Right this way, then. Let's go~ (to page 96!)

♦♥♦

FOOTNOTES

契約者 keiyakusha "party to a contract, subscriber, policy owner". A very interesting choice of words in this context, as it implies that Tim could have other past or future contractors. [ ♠ ]

袋のネズミ fukuro no nezumi "(an) owl's mouse". Approximately equivalent to the English idiom "rat in a trap", but the image of Komui with talons was too fun to leave out. [ ♠ ]

#dgm #dgm translations #d.gray-man #d gray man #re.gray #allen walker #bookman #lavi #lenalee lee

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Wednesday 26 December 1832

8 20

12 10

fine morning F48 ½° at 8 ½ a.m. breakfast with Marian at 9 50 till 10 ¾ - then near an hour with my aunt – out at 11 ¾ - Pickles not at the stubbing in Wellroyde brow – John had been earthing up holly hedge along west slope of walk – had got up the great hazel at the top of the calf croft – told him where to put it – with James S- and William Green and John trying to get it into the sledge till 1 – too much for us – to get more force after dinner (told John I would send his daughter Charlotte to school and try what I could do for afterwards) and at 1 ¼ off from the hut to Lidgate - Miss W- out - walked towards Crownest the old road and met her - returned - sat by her the 12 minutes while she dined - about 3 walk her to Whitehall and back and then sat with her till 6 ¼ - better today talked till I had half persuaded her to say a serious yes and go with me    her scruples seem abated   grubbled her after our walk she saying nothing for or against it but seeming not very anxious about my ceasing this sort of care for her    talked of keeping on Lidgate for us to return to    of her going to York and Langton and our being of[f] on the last day of next month  had before said if her answer was no she might go with me to London    which seemed to please her   she said she had been looking at the first note she ever had from me which she had carefully kept and it was dated    the seventh November 1828  this date seemed to have made a great impression on her in fact tonight she was quite inclined for going and seemed to think more seriously of her word and the tie between us    but I attached in reality no importance to all this   well knowing that tomorrow she might be all on the other side [of] the question home at 6 ½ - dinner at 6 55 - afterwards wrote 3 pages and ends and first page crossed to M- said it was odd enough but I had not written to Mr Kinnersley having waited to hear from her M- whether the man objected to take £20 including washing and whether he would wait a few weeks for my place - thought I should not want him before the 30th of next month but considering what M- said (that he would now have been living with them but for proximity to Clough hall) and that not much good was to be expected from Mr K-s’ answer I would wave writing to him, and would engage Thomas Beech from 30 January next - might want him sooner but if not so soon would allow him board wages 12/. a week from 30th January - she must make him understand that he must make no difficulties, take the place as he found it, and do what I told him - should be much obliged to get him an undress suit, Oxford-mixture jacket and waistcoat and plush breeches and plain yellow buttons which would do till I got to London Strongitharm having my dries and furnishing me with buttons - would pay M- for the livery and things from Leamington when we met - sorry for her trouble in parting with all her under women servants - would she have any objection to try Martha Booth as kitchen girl? thought she might suit her - had not mentioned it to anyone, so M- might think of it or not, as she liked - asked when they were to be at Leamington - ‘I fancy myself looking much better than when you saw me last - I am fatter, stronger, and happier - much of my former buoyancy of spirit is returned, and I have much positive enjoyment - reason has at last prevailed, and I am mistaken if you do not soon blot me out from your list of the dissatisfied - Everything seems to go well with me, for, tho’ I have no gold mine, I feel that I shall work thro’ my inconveniences, and have little cause to regret what I have done - there will be no further nonsense I trust, about my walk - it is not a good walkable path, and I mean to give one of the men now working for me so much a year to keep it in order - In fact, I hope I shall leave all my concerns more satisfactory than I have ever done before - I have lately been much pleased with some business like attentions from people upon whom I had no claim - I seem to have established myself a character at least respectable - I see, and feel, that I have nothing to complain of, and all I am now anxious about is to wind up my concerns and be on the wide world again - God bless you Mary! May every good attend you - may be happy in whatever way is best suited to your taste and believe me always very especially and entirely yours AL’ – sent off by John at 8 55 my letter to M- ‘Lawton hall Lawton Cheshire’ wrote out the whole of yesterday and first 8 lines of today and went into the other room at 9 ¾ - Antwerp surrendered unconditionally on the24th instant (Monday) – my aunt went to bed at 10 35 and I staid down and wrote all but the first 8 lines of today till 11 10 – fine day – F48° now at 11 ½ p.m.

[believingispowerfulmagic]

Building a Family

Summary:  Ten-years-old Sophie Mills had a goal for her summer: Find her dad. With her mother, Regina, not wanting to talk about him, she comes up with a plan to find him from the one photograph that may contain him. When she does, she discovers she may have started looking for a dad but found a family instead. OutlawQueen, non-magical AU.

Chapter 1: FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Chapter 17: Tensions at the Barbecue

FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

"I think maybe it would be nice if Roland spent the long weekend at my house," Marian said. "I have a room set up for him and it'll give us a chance to bond."

Robin bristled at the suggestion, not sure it was a good idea. But he didn't want to respond, knowing that it would just cause a fight. So he watched Archie, who studied Marian with a concerned look in his eyes.

She frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that? I'm his mother, I should be able to spend time with him."

"Yes, but you've only just re-entered his life," Archie said. "I don't think Roland is going to be ready to spend such a long amount of time with you."

"Long? It's only three days, maybe two or three nights!" Marian protested. "That's not very long."

Robin frowned now. "Roland's never spent more than a night away from me and always at Will's. I don't know how he will react to being away in a strange new place without me."

"Does he stay at Regina's?" she asked, the bitterness clear in her voice.

He bristled at her tone. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."

Archie's frown was turned to Robin now. "I think you do owe her an answer. Does Roland stay at Regina's?"

"He and I have spent the night at Regina's house a few times," he replied. "But I'm always with him. He has never spent a night alone at Regina's."

"Would you let him spend a long weekend at her house?" Marian asked, crossing her arms.

Robin paused, considering his answer. While they had talked about Roland sleeping over Regina's house, he realized he always imagined himself being there as well. "Probably not by himself. Not yet, anyway."

She hummed. "And what about little Regina? Has she slept over your house?"

"This isn't about Sophie," Archie said, shaking his head. "What Robin and Regina decide to do with her is between them and has no bearing on the decisions you two make regarding Roland."

"Doesn't it?" Marian countered. "Shouldn't he be treating both his children and their mothers the same?"

Archie shook his head. "The differences between the two relationships aside, the children are different as well. So it wouldn't be fair to Roland to treat him the same as a preteen, right?"

"I guess not," she mumbled, clearly upset. Loudly and clearly, she asked: "But do you agree that he should come stay with me?"

"Right now? No," Archie told her with a sigh.

Marian tensed up and her eyes narrowed. "And why not?"

"Because it's too soon, Marian," he replied. "We've talked about this. You need to be patient and understand that this will be a journey, not a sprint."

She crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. "Why is everyone against me?"

Robin shook his head. "We're not against you, Marian. But we all need to put Roland first and do what's best for him. Like it or not, you're still a stranger to him and it's not in his best interest to spend a weekend with you."

"This seems to be a Catch-22 if you ask me," she protested. "The only way to bond with him is to spend more time with him but I can't spend more time with him until I bond with him!"

"No one is stopping you from bonding with him," Archie replied. "However, I am concerned that you are trying to speed up the process and force a bond that is very fragile. You don't want to push Roland away."

Robin nodded, adding softly: "He's only four years old, Marian."

"I know," she replied. "I am his mother."

"Then as his mother, you need to put what's best for him ahead of what's best for you," he reminded her.

She frowned. "Do you always do that?"

He bristled at her implication and crossed his arms, glaring at her. "Of course I do. Roland is always my top priority."

"Marian, we are not here to attack each other," Dr. Hopper reminded her. "That won't help solve anything."

She crossed her arms. "I feel like I'm being attacked and being punished."

"Why?" Dr. Hopper asked.

"All I want to do is spend time with my son," she replied, "and neither of you are letting me do that."

Robin's blood boiled at Marian's victim act. "We are letting you spend time with him, a couple times a week."

"Yes, you control when and where I see him," she replied. "I should be able to see him when and wherever I want. I am his mother, I have rights."

"No, you don't," he reminded her. "At least not legally."

She scowled. "Then I want them restored and I want unlimited access to my son."

"Our son," Robin stressed. "And you don't get to make unilateral decisions regarding him like that."

"But you do?" she countered hotly.

Dr. Hopper held up his hands. "Okay, okay. I think I'm going to end this session so everyone can calm down. I'll set up our next sessions."

"Oh, I'm going to have a lot to say," Marian told him, standing up. She glared at Robin. "Will you tell Roland I love him?"

"Of course," Robin said, standing up as well. "Despite what you think, I do want you to have a relationship with him."

She narrowed her eyes. "But?"

"No real 'but' there," he told her. "Just…just be patient, Marian. Parent-child bonds don't just happen instantly. Roland and I have a bond because I stayed. I parented him. I was there for every cough, every sneeze, every nightmare, every fever, every tantrum, every milestone, every new discovery. I'm there when he wakes up and when he goes to sleep. I know all his favorites and all his dislikes. Our bond is four years strong and still growing. You're starting behind the eight ball and you can't try to catch up with a snap of your fingers. But if you put in the work, you can have just as strong of a bond as well have."

Marian was quiet and pensive as she studied him. "Do you feel the same way about your relationship with Little Regina?"

"Do I feel that I'll never have the same bond with her that she does with her mother?" he asked. "Yes, I do. But don't compare your journey with Roland to my journey with Sophie. She is older and went looking for me, so she was prepared for this. It's a very different situation and so how I'm creating my bond with her will be different from how you will create your bond with Roland."

"Robin is right," Archie said softly. "You need to create a relationship that fits you and Roland, not try to copy someone else's."

She pressed her lips together before sighing. "Alright. It's just…I want to be his mother so badly and I want to spend all the time I can with him."

"I know," Robin said, knowing he felt the same way about Sophie. "And soon you can. You just have to be in the work to get there."

They followed Archie out of the room and made new appointments with him as well as confirmed their next meeting with Roland. Archie wrote everything down before looking up at them with a smile. "I'll see you two next time. Have a good day," he said.

Robin thanked him and followed Marian down the stairs to the door. They exited onto the street as Marian looked at him. "I'm guessing if I ask to see Roland now, I will get turned down?" she asked.

He pressed his lips together, knowing that the answer was yes. Regina had agreed to babysit Roland for him during this session and so he was enjoying time with his sister at Regina's house. Which was the last place he wanted to bring Marian and he knew it was the last place she wanted to go. And he worried how she would react if he even mentioned that Roland was spending time with Regina.

"I can see it on your face," she said, scowling. "The answer is no."

"For today, yes," he replied. "And maybe we should run this by Dr. Hopper before we do anything outside of his office, just to be safe."

She sighed. "Sure. Whatever. You're the only one with a say over our son, as you've reminded me."

"Marian," he said, trying to keep his emotions in check. "I explained this."

"Yes, I know," she replied. "And I promise you that I will get my maternal rights back and then I will get to spend time with my son without your permission. Mark my words, Robin."

She didn't wait for him to reply before walking away. He watched her get in her car and pull away before sighing. Running his fingers through his hair, he pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number. After a few rings, the person picked up. "Hi, Tink, it's Robin Locksley. Do you have time to meet with me?" he asked her.

#once upon a time #outlaw queen #oq au #oq ff #building a family

[diedbrave]

Blue eyes were fond as they gazed into his lover’s eyes, hoping that Eddie would be able to see just how much he appreciated what he had done for him. It was touching and far more than he deserved even though he knew that anyone else looking at this wouldn’t understand why he was so moved by what the other had set up for him. It really was the best gift for someone like Bill who didn’t really ever celebrate his birthday and was genuinely uncomfortable when it was brought up most of the time. Feeling like a burden. But this was just more proof that Eddie knew him better than anyone ever had or ever would. Bill wouldn’t want it any other way, of course. Ending up with his best friend was the best thing that had ever happened to him. “You thought right,” the author confirmed, smiling  softly and reaching for the man he loved to bring him in for a soft kiss. “You know me so well. Thank you for doing all of this.” It really was exactly like when they were younger, the scene was familiar and reminded him of the times that they’d spend just the two of them both in good moments and bad. This would be one of the good ones, he knew, and that was what Bill would be trying his best to focus on. Being able to hold the brunette close to his body in a way he was lucky enough to be able to do now that they were together and grown. Truly the most thoughtful birthday gift he had ever received. “Wine sounds amazing. Being able to act our ages is good too, because I am, in fact, an old man,” he chuckled. It wasn’t a fact he liked to admit, however it was a fact nonetheless. At least Eddie still seemed to love him. “My birthdays were always made better with you.” His head cocked his head to the side as he asked, “Do you want me to grab the wine?” Bill hadn’t helped out at all — even though this had been a surprise for him — and he didn’t like not being useful when he could be. A lot of work had been put into this and Eddie deserved to take a break. The kitchen wasn’t too far, but still.

__________________

“Yeah, well, you’re the fucking hottest old man I’ve ever seen, baby.” He laughed lightly, kissing Bill again, despite Bill having just grabbed him and kissed him in that moment of gratitude and thanks. Eddie was beaming with pride that he had done a good job, that he had created a set up that Bill would actually enjoy and not feel like he was being pressured into celebrating a day he didn’t like to celebrate to begin with. “We’re both old men at this point, but you know what? Having you be mine for another year of your life isn’t anything to complain about.” 

He grinned, giving a nod of agreement. Eddie had never celebrated his birthday, because Sonia didn’t really like most of his friend group. He would maybe do something small if the other Losers had thought about it, but often Eddie just ignored it. It was too close to holidays like Thanksgiving, and if he were lucky, people would just forget altogether. “No. No, you’re not grabbing the wine, mister! This is your birthday. That means you don’t work.” He knew that was something that Bill struggled with, but he kissed the other’s cheek, looking at him with such love. “Just let me spoil you.” 

Eddie hummed, tucking a curl behind his own ear, nodding towards the television. “How about you start the movie while I pour us each a glass? It isn’t like I haven’t also seen Indiana Jones a hundred times, no thanks to a certain someone.” He teased, heading back into the kitchen to get the wine out. He grabbed their wine glasses, filling them each a little too hefty. It was a day to celebrate, was it not? Besides, the wine might help Bill relax in terms of the whole birthday thing. 

Moving back out of the kitchen, Eddie sat next to his husband, crossing his legs in criss-cross style as he nudged him. “Remember back when we would play Indiana Jones, and decide who was who? And you wanted Richie to be Marian? Fuck, I know it was a joke, but I was so jealous back then.” 

@scribedhorror 

#scribedhorror #queue #do i think im so creative in referencing our other threads? #yes but i know i am not at all

[redeemedsoutlaw]

Life had not been kind to Robin Locksley. Every time things were falling into place something swept the pieces awry. The turbulent past is exactly why the former thief could not believe things with the love of his life would pan out. It hadn’t been but a moon when Emma Swan proved him right. MARIAN had returned from the dead with a wicked tongue lashing out at his new life. Elation turned to shock as young Roland was privy to each horrid thing spilling from the formerly kind woman’s lips. It hadn’t made sense that day but even lesser now. Too many questions were left open ended. Too many things did not add up. At first Robin felt guilt for thinking ill of the former bride in-spite of the very visible changes. Morals blurred each day. No longer did he wish to be loyal and honest. Sitting in the middle of a forest with a woman once loved playing with an adored son should be home. But it wasn’t. Home had changed to a former Evil Queen turned hero. Home was warm apple pies, stolen kisses and sassy remarks. HOME was wrapped in the arms of a woman desired unlike anything felt before. There was no going back after steps forward had been taken which is exactly how the Locksley’s ended at the town line.

Fingers gripped desperately to the woman who gave him life after emotional death with tear filled eyes. It was quite certain those standing around for support could hear the shattering heart. He just had to let go. It wasn’t fair. An honorable decision had been made and presented to both women to 24 hours before. Robin would remain with Regina and co-parent with Marian. But life was not kind to Robin Locksley. Once more the foundation was swept from under feet without pause. Time seemed to standstill when in fact minutes passed with silence. Marian stood beside the soulmates with such grace. If attentions hadn’t been solely focussed on his hardest goodbye there would questions of the solace upon the woman’s face. A streak of white hair reminded them all what evils drove them here. A spell with no answer. I don’t wish to go. A mantra screaming inside his skull but didn’t dare touch the tongue. It would do no good to speak things which cannot be. Blue hues looked long and hard. This could be the last they see of each other for sometime so every detail was burned to memory. A thumb drug across the apple of her cheek before tracing the scar above her lip. Shuddering breaths followed as the mark was touched. Another example the horrible pasts they had both lived. Limbs quaked as their hands joined and lowered between bodies. Farewell seemed harsh. Goodbye impossible. How was he meant to cross the town line knowing this would all be gone? It seemed implausible a solution would be constructed in the near future which made every move that much harder.

“Robin…. we need to go.” Marian’s sweet voice stabbed painfully. They had agreed this was for the best until a permanent solution could be conjured. Moons had been spent searching thus far with no results which left little hope. “I know.” The answer was barely a whisper but seemed a shout. Gods he wished to ask Regina to come. It would be quite simple to pull the woman across with them but selfish. Standing just a few feet away in the arms Emma Swan was Regina’s reason for living. Henry Mills. A boy with a great sense of adventure and much love to give. Never would Robin take a child from their mother. Before final words could be uttered the smallest of Merry Men thrusted himself at Regina’s legs. Tiny arms wrapped so tight around thighs it was questionable whether a bruise would be left their wake. For this sight is what caused the first silent sob from Robin. Cries of a child professing missing her and being scared of a new place wet her thighs.

For the first time since their arrival Robin glanced at Marian. It was peculiar to see a look of serenity when her son was suffering. A brow lifted as the former couples eyes met. Suddenly the calm turned to turmoil which relieved Robin a bit. Marian swooped in to pull Roland from Regina before offering a kind smile and words of thanks to the very woman she was ripping everything from. The gratitude sounded sincere. It was clear the longer this goodbye took the harder it would be. Marian’s feet slowly moved back to the line with soft eyes gazing at everyone who wished to help. Roland wiggled until his own feet hit pavement. “Are you coming, papa?” The heartbreak was visible to anyone dared look. Both Locksley men were torn but doing what they believed was morally right. Fuck morals! “I’ll be right there.”

Feet shuffled against the blacktop until they faced the direction of the town line. No one was entirely sure what to expect as Marian crossed over. Fingers sought comfort tangled in Regina’s as Roland held Marian’s hand but remained on the Storybrooke side. A glimmer of something and wave of invisible magic surrounded the woman. A woman who they all believed to be Robin’s first wife. A woman they believed to be the mother of Roland. A woman they believed to be their friend brought back. It wasn’t until it calmed a flash of red curls appeared. “What the blo - “ Before the question could be finished Marian turned and for a fleeting moment the truth was revealed. “Zelena?!” The sinister smile was unmissable.

Fingers pulsed hard around Regina’s before releasing to reach out for Roland. In an instant Zelena realized the veil of Marian was gone. Lips twisted to a snarl before the magic returned. It was puzzling why she would change appearances again until the hand holding Roland was tugged. The child was bewildered as tiny feet almost tripped across the line. “ROLAND!” Calls would be of no use as the other side could not hear. Discombobulated Robin kept a hold of Roland’s tiny hand unsure of what to do.  There was no bringing Roland back to this side of the town line but he refused to release. “Regina?!” Before a decision could be made Zelena disguised as Marian had convince Roland to release his papa’s hand so he could give Regina a proper goodbye. Anger flared nostrils as he called out to Roland knowing it would fall on deaf ears. The smile of his boy was unmissable as small fingers pulled from Robins. 

#redeemedqueen #[ au | s4 redo ]

[quoteoftheweekblog]

QUOTATIONS - JAMES JOYCE’S ’ULYSSES’ (FIRST PUBLISHED 1922)

First sentence:

‘Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.’ (Joyce, 1992, p.1).

On the Eucharist:

‘And at the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it. Dringdring! And two streets off another locking it into a pyx. Dringadring! And in a ladychapel another taking housel all to his cheek. Dringdring!’ (Joyce, 1992, p.49).

‘A batch knelt at the alter rails. The priest went along by them, murmuring, holding the thing in his hands. He stopped at each, took out a communion, shook a drop or two (are they in water?) off it and put it neatly into her mouth. Her hat and head sank. Then the next one: a small old woman. The priest bent down to put it into her mouth, murmuring all the time. Latin. The next one. Shut your eyes and open your mouth. What? Corpus. Body, Corpse. Good idea the Latin. Stupefies them first.’ (Joyce, 1992, pp.98-9).

On literature:

‘Who ever anywhere will read these written words?” (Joyce, 1992, p.60).

‘Our national epic has yet to be written ... ‘ (Joyce, 1992, p.246).

On June 16th:

‘How grand are we this morning.’ (Joyce, 1992, p.147).

‘It was a peaceful day.’ (Joyce, 1992, p.285).

‘It was a charming day.’ (Joyce, 1992, p.287).

‘ - That’s a fine day ... ‘ (Joyce, 1992, p.288).

‘ - 16 June 1904.’ (Joyce, 1992, p.294).

‘Long day I’ve had.’ (Joyce, 1992, p.496).

On life:

‘Every life is many days, day after day.’ (Joyce, 1992, p.273).

On Shakespeare:

‘But “Hamlet” is so personal, isn’t it? ... I mean, a kind of private paper, don’t you know, of his private life. I mean I don’t care a button, don’t you know, who is killed or who is guilty ... ‘ (Joyce, 1992, p.248).

‘Leftherhis

Secondbest

Bestabed

Secabest

Leftabed ...

(’As I believe, to name her.

He left her his

Secondbest

Bed.’) (Joyce, 1992, p.261).

‘Shakespeare is the happyhuntingground of all minds that have lost their balance.’ ‘But “Hamlet” is so personal, isn’t it? ... I mean, a kind of private paper, don’t you know, of his private life. I mean I don’t care a button, don’t you know, who is killed or who is guilty ... ‘ (Joyce, 1992, p.320).

On Wilkie Collins:

‘Miss Dunne hid the Capel Street library copy of “The Woman in White” far back in her drawer and rolled a sheet of gaudy notepaper into her typewriter.

Too much mystery business in it. Is he in love with that one, Marian?’ (Joyce, 1992, p.294).

‘ ... she gave me the Moonstone to read that was the first I read of Wilkie Colllins ... ‘ (Joyce, 1992, p.896).

On Master Courtenay:

‘There master Courtenay, sitting in his own chamber ... ‘ (Joyce, 1992, p.418).

On the British:

‘To hell with them! The curse of a goodfornothing God light sideways on the bloody thicklugged sons of whores’ gets! No music and no art and no literature worthy of the name. Any civilisation they have they stole from us.’  (Joyce, 1992, p.421).

‘That’s your glorious British navy ... that bosses the earth. The fellows that never will be slaves, with the only hereditary chambers on the face of God’s earth and their land in the hands of a dozen gamehogs and cottonball barons. That’s the great empire they boast about of drudges and whipped serfs.’ (Joyce, 1992, p.427).

On summer:

‘The summer evening had begun to fold the world in its mysterious embrace.’ (Joyce, 1992, p.449).

‘This is midsummer madness ... ‘  (Joyce, 1992, p.613).

‘ ... a concert tour of summer music embracing the most prominent pleasure resorts, Margate with mixed bathing and firstrate hydros and spas, Eastbourne, Scarborough, Margate and so on, beautiful Bournemouth, the Channel Islands ... ‘ (Joyce, 1992, p.723).

REFERENCE

Joyce, J. (1992 [1922] ) ‘Ulysses’. London: Vintage.

[contreparry]

Happy Friday Ann! From the romantic yearning prompts, how about "we can share the bed. if that’s not weird."?

Here’s some pre-relationship Isabelaxfem!Hawke for @dadrunkwriting !

The manor had a surprising lack of beds.

Guest rooms were plentiful. The Amells had no shortage of chambers. At some point in the past there was probably a bed in those rooms, but those days were long past and now the rooms only stored dust and memories, and Marian was frugal with the money she had. Sure, she could refurbish the manor in the latest style and refurnish every room and have a fortune to spare, but circumstance made her wary. So she made the manor safe. She bought what was necessary. She fixed one room at a time.

The problem arose when her friends came over for supper.

Most departed in the later hours of the evening, retreating to their own homes and beds. Varric escorted Merrill down to the Alienage, Aveline returned to her office at the keep (something about filing some paperwork), Sebastian crossed the square to the Chantry, Fenris drifted down the street to his own manor, and Anders took his now customary route through the cellar back to his clinic. But Isabela stayed behind, lingering in the study with a goblet of cut crystal in one hand and a bottle of cheap brandy in the other until the hour grew far too late for Marian to be comfortable with kicking her out of the house. Not that she ever would, especially in regards to Isabela.

“It looks damn pretty in this, even if it tastes like tar,” she explained as she poured the amber colored liquid into the glass. It sparkled like a jewel, but Marian prized Isabela’s smile more than any riches money could buy. She was smiling thoughtfully turning the glass this way and that to catch the lamplight.

“Mother says those glasses were an heirloom. Her mother- my grandmother, I suppose- inherited it from hers and so on. Guess I’ll get them next,” Marian said. It was hard to imagine herself inheriting anything, never mind something as frivolous and expensive as heirloom crystal goblets, but ever since she recovered them at an auction she put them out on the sideboard in the study. Best place for them, really. They lived with the drinks, saw some use, and her mother smiled whenever she happened upon them. It was nice to give her something to smile about. Maker knew her mother hadn’t had a much of a reason to do that after… everything.

“Mmm. Probably will be used for something far more posh by then,” Isabela murmured. She took a sip of the cheap brandy, her eyes fixed in Marian. Marian’s heart raced. She was only looking, it hardly meant anything if Isabela was only looking- she looked at people all the time! Andraste’s Tits, the woman spent all of supper teasing Fenris about his beautiful eyes! Looking was something Isabela did, just as she examined the brandy in the crystal goblet. Isabela liked pretty things and people, that was all.

“Honestly, they’ll gather dust. I’m no good with ‘delicate and dainty,’” Marian joked. Isabela looked skeptical but didn’t argue, which was nice of her. There were some wounds that never quite healed right, and sometimes the weighty history and expectations of being an Amell (a noblewoman who ought to have a noblewoman’s hobbies and bearing) was too much to handle. Much better to be a Hawke, truth be told. Hawkes were supposed to be unconventional.

“Mmm,” Isabela hummed. “I think we’ll let the matter of you ‘not being built for the softer things in life’ lie for now. I’m rather tired, sweet thing. I can take the, ah, chaise lounge in the parlor, if you don’t think I’ll give poor Orianna a fright in the morning.” She winked at that, and Marian giggled at the thought of Orianna opening the curtains the next morning to find Isabela napping on the chaise.

“The first guest chamber is under construction, but you can use my room,” Marian offered. “We can share a bed, if that’s not weird.” The suggestion popped out of her mouth before she could think better of it, and even as a flush overtook her face and her heart threatened to burst out of her chest Isabela’s lips curled up into a sly smile as she looked up and down at her. Marian knew that, whatever happened next, she would not be sleeping that night.

“Oh no, sharing isn’t a problem at all,” Isabela murmured. “But I’ll have to borrow a nightshirt.”

#my writing #da drunk writing circle

[haverdoodles]

A Fork In The Road - Hawke & Inquisitor

This is an unedited drabble featuring my Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan and my Marian Hawke. It takes place around the time of the quest 'Here Lies The Abyss'.

.

“Varric has told me much about you,” Ellana said, joining Hawke by the stone guard of the battlements. The Champion was gazing up at Skyhold with a faint smile, though Ellana could not glean why from her expression alone. For someone so expressive, she was remarkably difficult to read.

“He’s been singing my praises, no doubt,” Hawke said. “Either that or he’s been spinning wildly raunchy tales about me and various other colourful characters. It tends to swing one way or another depending on the day.”

“There have been a few… questionable stories,” Ellana admitted, which made Hawke laugh. “Mostly, though, he spoke of you and your friends. Of how much you cared for each other, despite your differences.”

“Ah,” Hawke said with a soft smile. “Those were the days. Did you know that at one point, it had become customary for any of us to waltz into each other’s homes at any given time? That’s a big deal in Kirkwall, you know - everyone is so paranoid and secretive all the time. You don’t just allow people to walk in your home whenever they please.” Hawke shook her head, grinning behind her coppery fringe. “Sometimes I’d wake up to Varric asleep beside me, or Fenris sitting just outside in the hall. I’d visit Aveline’s place with Merrill every once and awhile to see how her wifely duties were coming along, and there would be nights where Anders and I attempted to outdrink Isabella at The Hanged Man. That never went very well however, Anders was such a lightweight…”

Ellana watched Hawke with a faint smile as she spoke. ‘She loves her friends,’ she thought to herself as Hawke began animatedly telling an anecdote involving Varric and her dog. Varric hadn’t been exaggerating about how much Hawke treasured her friendships, it seemed. She reminded Ellana a bit of Te’lise, in that sense - the two of them wore their hearts so openly on their sleeves, and loved everyone around them with a warmth that rivalled the sun.

“Listen to me, rambling on,” Hawke broke off from her stories to laugh. “And I didn’t even need a drink to get going! Sorry about that, Inquisitor, you must be bored to tears.”

“Quite the contrary,” Ellana told her sincerely. “I like hearing of your life in Kirkwall.”

Hawke’s smile dimmed a bit. “Yes, well. That was a long time ago. Many things have changed since then.” She looked over at Ellana when she spoke, the sunlight catching her eyes and setting them alight to a burning sapphire. “I’m thankful I still have Varric. I would be… quite lost without him, I think.”

“He is thankful for you too,” Ellana replied in a gentle tone. “Though I am sure you do not need me to tell you so.”

Hawke turned her gaze back up to Skyhold’s tower with a pensive expression. The wind ruffled her hair, setting the wayward strands ablaze in the fading sunlight, and Ellana once again admired just how vibrant the Champion was, inside and out. She had never met a person quite as bright before.

“Say,” Hawke said softly, “Do you ever wish for things to return as they once were? Before life for us got complicated, I mean.”

The red sails of aravels and the sound of sweet Natan’s laughter came to the forefront of Ellana’s mind, making her heart ache. “I used to,” she said slowly, “When I first came to Ferelden. But over time, I have learned that life becomes unbearable if we cling too tightly to the past. Sometimes it is best to let go and move on.”

“I wonder what he would think of that,” Hawke murmured. Catching Ellana’s confusion, she smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I was thinking aloud. I meant Fenris.”

“He is your… lover?” Ellana asked hesitantly. “That is what Varric told me.”

Hawke’s smile changed into something quieter. She seemed… sad. “We are - or we were, once.” Hawke half leaned on the stone wall of the battlements, crossing her arms over her armour’s chestplate. “It’s been a little over a year since I last saw him.”

Creators. “I am sorry,” Ellana breathed. “I should not have brought it up.”

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault. Gives me an opportunity to talk about it, at any rate.” Hawke grimaced. “Er, that is to say, I don’t want to impose.”

“You aren’t, I can assure you,” Ellana leaned against the wall beside her, turning her head to meet Hawke’s gaze. “I can lend an ear, if you need someone to listen.”

Hawke’s blue eyes softened, and she bumped their shoulders lightly in thanks. “Maker, where would I even begin?” She smiled ruefully. “Things were going well for us, I think. I loved him fiercely, and he loved me. We worked as one unit, taking on jobs and defending the weak. It was good, and I was so happy to see him thrive as his own person. Varric most likely told you this, but are you aware Fenris was once a slave?” Ellana nodded. “When you are a slave, you own nothing at all - not even your own name. It is the worst state of being, and I wanted to give Fenris something better than that. I wanted him to experience all the love and the light that the world has to offer, in order to drown out the darkness he had been accustomed to. I wanted to give him freedom.” The last word was said with a tinge of desperate hunger.

“That,” Ellana told her quietly, “Is a very noble goal to have.”

“Hah. You’d think so.” Hawke smiled humorlessly. “I got ahead of myself, however. Once I began showing him all the sights and wonders and treasures, I began to forget that Fenris did not have my upbringing, nor that I had his. I forgot that he too craved freedom, but to an insatiable degree that I would be unable to provide.

“I was happy and in love,” she continued on, nudging at a piece of rubble with the tip of her boot. “And like a silly, whimsical little girl, I wanted something more out of our relationship. I never paused to consider if Fenris would even want that too.”

“Oh, Hawke,” Ellana said sadly.

Hawke tipped her chin up to stare at the sky, blue eyes far away. “I never thought I’d want to get married,” she confessed. “I used to think of it as a load of sappy nonsense. But once I met Fenris, and had fallen in love with him over time, I knew in my heart that I could want for nothing more than to be bonded to him.” Hawke laughed, but it was a joyless sound. “I asked him to marry me, and he told me ‘no’. He did not even hesitate. To him, marriage is just another set of chains, even if it’s marriage with me. We argued, said some hurtful things, and the next day he was gone. Not even a note left behind. He just…”

Hawke suddenly pushed herself off the wall, scrubbing a hand furiously through her short copper curls. “Sorry,” she blurted awkwardly. “I went too far. I know that must have been difficult to hear.”

Ellana would have none of it. She reached out and clasped Hawke’s hands gently. They were clammy from nerves, and her rough callouses brushed over Ellana’s own, hinting upon years and years of swordsmanship. She swept her thumbs over freckled knuckles and met Hawke’s wide-eyed stare.

“I know how it feels to lose someone precious,” she told the woman softly. “I know how cruel and unfair it feels for them to disappear in an instant, as if they were never there in the first place - as if their entire time with you had been as insignificant as anything else. Hawke…” she squeezed her hands gently. “Do you love him?”

“I have always loved him,” Hawke said hoarsely. “I love him so much it hurts to breathe.”

“Fenris is alive, Hawke.” Ellana whispered. “He is somewhere out there right now, alive and breathing. Things are not as finite as they may seem. You may still have a chance to make it right.”

Hawke looked vulnerable and lost, scared, even, as she took in Ellana’s words. “He left,” she quavered. “He did not even say goodbye.”

“Hawke, Varric has told me so much about you. But more than anything, he spoke of how much you and your Fenris cared for one another. The Fenris he told me about does not sound like the sort of man to leave so suddenly because he no longer loves you,” Ellana insisted. “He was afraid, and he did the only thing a former slave would know how to - he ran. But that does not mean he has lost his affection for you. It does not mean that he does not want to marry you.”

“I don’t think I could handle losing him again,” Hawke confessed brokenly. “If Varric is my Sun, then Fenris is my Moon. He means - he means everything to me, Inquisitor.”

“I think,” Ellana smiled, “That you are telling this to the wrong person.”

Hawke looked at her amazedly, as if she were really seeing Ellana for the first time. Without hesitation, she used their joined hands to pull Ellana in for a rough, squeezing hug.

“Oof!” Ellana wheezed.

“You,” Hawke whispered fiercely into Ellana’s shoulder, “Are a gift from the Maker. I have never been more thankful that Thedas has an Inquisitor like you. Thank you, Ellana. Thank you.”

The Inquisitor blushed despite herself, and slowly brought up her arms to hug Hawke back. “When all this is over, I hope that you and Fenris find happiness at last.”

Hawke pulled back, and Ellana was met with a blinding grin. “When all this is over, I will find him. I am going to pummel him into the ground for leaving, then kiss him, then maybe pummel him some more. I am going to tell him how much I love him and always will love him, wedding ring or no.”

“Well. That certainly sounds like a tale Varric will send spiralling,” Ellana said, and the resulting roar of laughter that erupted from the Champion was music to her ears.

It's unrefined and a little all over the place, I know! I just wanted to play around with how Ellana and Marian would interact with one another, since canonically they spend very little time just chatting. Thank you for reading, it is much appreciated <3

#drabble #hava writes #haverdoodles #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age 2 #dragon age inquisition #dragon age hawke #fem hawke #inquisitor lavellan #here lies the abyss #short story #fanfiction #my ocs #marian hawke

[izusun]

Goblin anon back with the Robin Hood AU

I have put together Izuku's band of Merry Men who he collects through various shenanigans:

"Robin Hood" is Izuku, who's the head honcho of the operation

"Little John" is Kirishima, who is Izuku's right hand man and usual backup

"Maid Marian" is Himiko, who helps on heists by turning into people

"Friar Tuck" is Yaomomo, who uses her wealth to cover up heists and fund the operation

"Will Scarlet" is Tokoyami, who usually helps on the more stealthy heists

"Much the Miller's Son" is Hatsume, who makes everyone's gear and costumes

"Alan-a-Dale" is Shinsou, who is the newest addition to the crew

Also the basic plot of the au is just

Izuku as Robin Hood: Rich people should get robbed at least once a week.

People: Why?

Izuku, in the middle of a heist so he can't go on a wild anti-capitalist tangent: Builds character.

- Goblin anon

JELWOSPWWK YES!!! [.]

goblin anon rn:

I LOVE LOVE THE TEAM!! ok but imagine how they all meet:

kirishima:

midoriya met him during middle school? like imagine after the whole sludge villain incident and the posting of midoriya’s angry rant in social media, kirishima sees him and goes oh. i want to be strong (confident, angry at what’s wrong and speaking up about it) like him

their meeting was purely coincidental too. midoriya’s coming home from visiting the library (stemming from the old post, that’s where midoriya spends time searching for credible sources that were critical of the hero system. books and anecdotes and journals that could be traced back before the emergence of quirks, often cross-sectioning areas that overlap because hey look we never learned from the past even though we have proof that this thing that’s going on is leading to a big trouble because it helps him build his agenda and shapes his plans) and they just bump into each other.

they become friends because of the similarities between them, and one day kirishima asks if midoriya can teach him what he does because he wants to be better, but also because he wants to help. so midoriya does, tells him that kirishima’s big heart is something the world will need and that it is something kirishima needs to take care of because the hero system may be wrong now but they’d need kirishima’s honest kindness to reshape it to how it should be.

toga:

oh toga sought him out. unlike kirishima’s friendly stumbling, toga cornered midoriya with a feral grin and an even more feral eyes. despite the way she pretended to be unhinged, midoriya knew how dangerous and serious toga was at the moment.

“did you really mean it when you said quirks don’t define a person?” she asked then and midoriya was filled with clarity.

of course quirkless weren’t the only ones in the bottom of the caste, villainous quirks were there too. midoriya remembers this one student who transferred to aldera who also had a quirk dubbed villainous, then his parents relocated again when they found out about the bullying. so midoriya knows what toga meant. he saw firsthand just how bad and broad the discrimination is, so of course he won’t fail her.

“i do,” he said and toga must have heard–must have seen–the way he meant it. toga grinned, backed off, and from then on, they became friends.

(she doesn’t become a villain here!!)

the next ones he meet are shinsou and mei (both of which i talked about in the prev post)

yaoyorozu:

he meets her because of mei (mei, shinsou, and kirishima attend UA). mei created a file about yaoyorozu, and with kirishima’s personal input, he goes and meets her.

the first meeting wasn’t smooth. yaoyorozu, despite understanding midoriya’s stance, doesn’t want to help because “it’s the wrong way of going about it.”

but midoriya expected that. expected that as much as yaoyorozu is kind and smart and so so empathetic, she is still looking at the lens crafted for privileged people. so midoriya shows her. takes her to the self help groups for people who are discriminated because of their quirks, or the lack thereof. he shows her statistics that are presented by the media and by the news, then tears those statistics apart because they’re lacking, because they don’t show the truth. so he shows her. adds the numbers that are not recorded, shows that the quirkless are no longer even accounted for. shows things like unemployment rates for people who are quirkless or who have villainous or mutant quirks and yaoyorozu understands.

because while she can help change all of these once she’s a hero, it isn’t enough.

so she joins.

tokoyami:

he’s recruited by toga, of all people.

(this is something i’ve always been headcanon-ing about but basically since the hero commission is canonly sketchy, i think that at the start of the hero commission’s rise, they implemented some laws that restricted rights of...unheroic quirks. since they had to sell to the majority of quirkless population that quirks are beautiful and good, mutant quirks and villainous quirks were discriminated against. thus, the ancestral line of tokoyami must have been restricted by those rules. of course as time passes by, they remove those restrictions and hide the fact they existed into the shadows, but the damage is still there.)

HENCE why toga and tokoyami see each other eye-to-eye. they both understand the fucked up system, practically grew up in it alongside midoriya so of course tokoyami’s also privy to midoriya’s plans.

ANYWHO I LOVE LOVE THIS MAKE UP

sorry again for rambling but i just like the dynamic of midoriya’s merry men

#goblin anon #ask #GOBLIN IK I KEEP SAYING IT BUT UR MIND OH MY GOD #ALWAYS SO BEAUTIFUL AND BRIMMING WITH BRILLIANCE #thank u so so much for imparting us with your au dumps <3 #bnha #mha #midoriya izuku #shinsou hitoshi #kirishima eijirou #hatsume mei #toga himiko #momo yaoyorozu #tokoyami fumikage #quirkless deku #vigilante deku #robin hood au #long post

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: Ructare florem tristitiae

Summary: Allen Walker’s feelings bubble up his throat, flower petals spilled on his father’s grave, for the Akuma, who will never get proper burials. Ructare florem tristitiae, Cross Marian diagnoses, grief flowers.

Parasitic type Exorcists never live for long; carries of Hanahaki should die even quicker.

Allen is determined to make the best of it.

Rosa bracteata

His name was Allen, his father was dead, and he’s choking, drowning in his grief, spilling his guts in the graveyard. His shoulders shook and he heaved until he collapsed, fingernails clawing at his skin until they left red scratches. Metal in his mouth as he vomited roses that, under all the blood from thorns tearing up his throat, were white.

“You want me to retrieve Mana Walker?” the grinning clown asked, curiously staring down at him.

Another rose petal fell from Allen’s mouth as he screamed his father’s name.

Ornithogalum umbellatum

Cross was too late.

His mistake couldn’t be any clearer, standing in front of Mana’s grave, holding a casket that was bound to be empty, looking at a child that was meant to disappear. Allen’s face was covered by blood, and thus Cross did not pay any attention to the flowers surrounding him as he picked Nea’s host up and carried him to safety.

The little brat never should have been caught up in this war of theirs and Cross almost wanted to laugh at the irony of a Noah’s host being so deeply connected to Innocence, it took over his body. Laughing, drinking, and sex would certainly be better distractions than screaming in rage and lashing out at a kid that couldn’t be blamed for any of this, but right now, Cross couldn’t afford to do either.

All he had left were the curses he could hiss under his breath as the child screamed himself hoarse from the pain, choking until Allen threw up on him, the remains of lunch and flower petals ruining his shirt.

“Fuck no,” Cross exhaled, fingers twitching for a cigarette. “Since when does the brat have fucking Hanahaki?”

Mother only huffed. “Why are you asking me? Shouldn’t you know since you watched him?”

“Well, he certainly wasn’t spitting up little snowdrops when he was running around with Mana!”

No, when the two clowns had been traveling together, Mana had been the one choking on the same red poppies he’d always cried for his brother. Fucking Nea, this better be worth it. From a scientist to an Exorcist to a nanny for traumatized little Noah hosts, who pissed their bedding.

“Those aren’t snowdrops,” Mother said, picking at the few flowers Cross had cleaned off the blood. “Aren’t you a bad priest that you can’t even recognize these?”

“Why the fuck should I recognize any flowers—”

“Stars of Bethlehem!”

Cross turned to the door where Barba was standing with Allen’s clean sheets, pointing excitedly at the little flowers. “Those are stars of Bethlehem. I’ve always wanted to decorate with them for Christmas because of the name, but they’re pretty sad flowers.”

Sad flowers, huh? “What do they mean?”

“Atonement,” Barba replied. “And reconciliation, guilt, and fear.”

Sighing, Cross leaned back in his chair and grabbed the entire bottle of wine. “Of course, the brat has grief flowers.”

Parasitic Innocence and Hanahaki? Nea better woke up soon, or the boy might die before he had the chance to erase him.

Calendula officinalis

Allen’s new Master was a bastard, so unlike Mana that he wanted to scream and return to his grave, spill more father’s day gifts and stars. But if he returned to Mana without having saved a single soul, he could never forgive himself.

And thus Allen stayed, carried his bags, found a routine with his Master, wondering when he’d finally learn how to use his Innocence against those Akuma.

“Hurry up, stupid apprentice, we’re going to be late.”

“Late where—” Allen froze as his gaze stopped at a lone man in the crowd and his left eye suddenly exploded in pain as his vision changed, shifted, and the man turned into a shadow, a skeleton wrapped in chains and guts, screaming, tearing at their constraints, begging for salvation.

Allen fell to his knees, his father’s screams echoing in his mind as he began coughing, struggling for breath, orange blooms landing on the dirt road.

“Allen— what are you doing!?”

His Master’s voice thundered through the air, commanding and another note he couldn’t identify.

“The man,” he stuttered out, swallowing down the bitter taste, the copper. “The man, Master, he’s like— like Mana!”

Cross’s head whipped up just in time for the man to see them.

And then all hell broke loose.

Tagetes erecta

The marigolds continued to haunt Allen until he learned to swallow down the blooms even as he fought against the Akuma.

No matter the Akuma’s level or origin story, orange petals always begged to leave his mouth. It made their stay in India more taxing than any other, marigold garlands covering the streets at all times. How strange that a flower that had always represented pain and grief to him was celebrated here so. Allen had met quite a few people suffering from the same ailment as him, though the taste of their hurt was a different one; unrequited love, fear, hopelessness – the number of emotions that could evoke Hanahaki seemed to be as varied as the stars above.

Allen had never known which one Mana had suffered from, but his flowers had also never changed, blooming for the same purpose and person.

He stared down at the abandoned bowl, his arm still aching. He had been so careful that any of the marigolds he brought Narain were not stained by those expelled by his body. But now, covered by the Akuma’s blood, it hardly seemed to matter.

They looked just the same.

Mentha arvensis

Allen’s introduction to the Black Order was chaotic. From his meeting with the angry Japanese Exorcist he absolutely did not want to work with ever thank-you-very-much to the confusing words and touch of the guardian Hevelaska. Komui, his superior, seemed like a fun and kind man, one Allen wouldn’t mind working alongside.

This place truly felt like it could become home if one were to believe Lenalee. Allen even had his own room that was his to do with as he liked, given that he didn’t destroy it. That certainly was an entirely new experience.

Allen hadn’t really had a home in a long while, though, when he was just feverish enough, feeling more like a child than an Exorcist, he would consider his Master’s coat on his shoulders shelter his home.

Not that he’d ever admit that to the man out loud.

“Is there anything else we need to know?” Komui asked, looking over Allen’s file, hopefully not cringing too much over Allen’s handwriting. Just because he had gained dexterity didn’t mean that his handwriting was particularly great. “Your personal data isn’t exactly precise.”

Allen tried to keep his smile in place, but he was well aware that his life had gaps. The entire first half of his childhood was one giant black hole, and as much as Allen sometimes wanted to solve that particular mystery, he was sure he hadn’t forgotten for no reason.

Mana’s memories had been full of empty spaces, and that for a good reason too.

Allen still remembered his screams when his nightmares overwhelmed him, begging for his brother to save him, forgive him, stay by his side eternally.

“I’m sorry,” Allen apologized regardless. “I know my background is not that easy.”

Komui only smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Allen. We care more about your own welfare now than anything else.”

His throat tickled and he desperately wanted to believe Komui, perhaps a bit naively too as his childhood self would condemn, but he tasted mint and knew it was for naught. Komui might care, God, the man had given everything so he could be here with his sister, but that didn’t speak for the entire Order.

“There actually is one more thing,” Allen admitted. “I have grief flowers.”

Komui’s eyes widened, fear and pity flashing through them. “How long?”

“Since General Cross took me in,” Allen said, knowing that for most, that would mean he was as close to death as he could be. “But I have it handled. My Innocence keeps me steady and heals my lungs.”

It was probably not as good of a reassurance as the man was hoping for, but it was all Allen could give. As always, he was lacking.

Lathyrus odoratus

Dealing with Innocence always interfered with his sickness. His own shard kept him healthy enough to continue on even if the number of flowers he’d displaced over the years should have long since killed him.

“What the hell, moyashi?” Kanda shouted as Allen doubled over in front of Lala and Guzol, covering the sand with blood, baby’s breath and sweet peas. Baby’s breath was nothing new given the presence of Innocence. Allen had filled Maria’s casket with it multiple times already, but he knew the sweet peas were for Lala, the sentient doll, and her dearly beloved human, her accommodator.

“Let her sing,” Allen begged through the pain, wheezing, still pathetic and weak. “Let her sing, please.”

And they remained as they were.

Gypsophila paniculate

God’s true apostle was a little girl that made Allen freeze. No matter how much he wanted to fight, to protect the world he had learned to love with his father’s smiles and jokes, he couldn’t anymore, his eye destroyed, bleeding.

Time running out and out and out until—

Rewind.

Miranda’s Innocence, baby’s breaths on his tongue, was as cruel as it was kind, giving Allen more time to fight, to understand, to choke down the marigolds as Road ordered the self-destruction of the Akuma and he watched that screaming soul disintegrate.

He knew there would be a price to pay.

The Noah’s door, a checkered form that seemed so familiar, closed and Allen stumbled back to Miranda’s side. Sweet reassurances were all it took to get her settled, to allow time to return to them.

Allen blacked out with a cough so deep, he thought he was crying at Mana’s grave again.

Papaver nudicaule

Lavi was curious by nature. It was the reason Bookman had picked him in the first place. Their kind needed to be curious, interested in the world, but only ever as its silent observers. Bookman Junior could recite his entire lecture on the topic, the ever repeated ‘know your duties’. Junior knew that he wasn’t Bookman’s first apprentice, and given how much Bookman insisted that Lavi stayed impartial, he knew there was a story to discover, history to inherit someday.

But for now, he had to chat up the Destroyer of Time.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Lavi said with a mild smile. “Yu-chan already told me so much about you!”

Kanda had been unusually chatty, complaining about Allen Walker for minutes, which was as good as ranting for an hour for normal people. Lavi had learned a lot about Allen during that time, mainly his sickness being of interest to Junior. The number of people suffering from Hanahaki was low enough that they had yet to find a proper cure or cause.

There were enough speculations, the church was particularly fond of going on about Eve and Lilith, Eden’s curse, but it was as good an explanation as a shrug and a disinterested ‘I don’t know’.

Although, perhaps, remembering the glass of flowers in his coat pocket, a cure had been found, just not one readily available for the masses.

“Here! Miranda collected them for you. It’s tradition in Germany to save them.”

Lavi handed Allen the glass full of yellow poppies before the youth could protest, waiting to see what his reaction would be. He had already gathered that Allen was used to his sickness, had learned how to live with them.

These flowers should not surprise him.

And yet they did, the boy almost dropping the glass when he saw what was inside.

“Poppies,” Allen breathed, his face twisting into shock, the kind of which Lavi had never seen before. “But they’re Mana’s—”

Mana Walker, the father that had been turned into an Akuma.

Lavi had to hold back a grin.

This was bound to be interesting.

Roseanne giganteus carnivorus

Roots took ahold of Allen’s heart and lungs and he reminded himself repeatedly that Mana loved him, that he had friends now and a home, that he was cared for. His father may have cursed him, but only so Allen would have something to live for so that he’d continue and not plant his roots at his father’s grace and let his body decay to feed the soil.

“I never wondered if Akuma could love,” Allen confessed to Lavi while Krory was still knocked out, head resting against the window of the train. “I thought them incapable of forming positive relationships unless they were modified.”

“Modified?” Lavi echoed, keen eyes, fake smile.

Took a liar to find another.

Eliade had felt something for Krory, even if it might just have been possessiveness, staking her claim on her victim and prey, waiting for the Innocence to get strong enough that its destruction would be interesting.

I love you, Mana’s words rang in his ears.

The flowers settled.

Glaucium flavum

The Exorcist cheated them right out of their money, and if Tyki didn’t feel like there was something familiar about the boy, he would have ripped his Innocence and heart out right there. He’d learned restraint, how to curb Joyd’s hunger. It had been insufferable when he’d still been a child, giving in to pleasure much too quickly.

But the three Exorcists right in front of him were taunt and temptation.

And still, Tyki resisted, especially once he got close enough to that white-haired menace to catch his scent. He’d excused himself after one round, saying he needed to freshen up. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it also wasn’t the truth.

“You smell like flowers, menino,” Tyki commented, watching as the boy quickly wiped blood from his mouth, something yellow disappearing down the drain. “Hanahaki?”

Fraude A flinched, looking like he’d been caught in the act. The cheerful if devious demeanor from before had all but faded away, leaving behind an exhausted teenager. The bags under his eyes were heavy, and the Innocence in his hand must be sucking away at his lifespan as well.

What wouldn’t Tyki give to turn that crystal into dust, play savior for this damned child.

“It’s not contagious,” the boy said immediately, probably thinking that Tyki was one of those fools who avoided flower bearers like the plague.

“I know,” Tyki said. “Don’t worry about it, menino. You seem to be doing as well as you can. I want to ask about your sickness if you don’t mind.”

The boy eyed him suspiciously but nodded.

“The child we have with us, Eeez, he has Hanahaki as well. His family threw him out because they could not afford to care for his health.”

Not that Tyki and his friends could afford his treatment either. Whenever Eeez, Momo, and Clark slept, Noah’s third disciple reached far into the lungs of the boy and ripped out the flowers stealing his breath, drenched his fingers in blood to see the child take another pathetic breath.

“Oh.” Understanding flashed over Fraude’s face. “Which kind?”

“Fear,” Tyki replied and there was so much to fear for weak little human boys in a world as cruel as theirs. “And you?”

“Grief,” the boy said, almost apologetic as if he’d trade his variant for a chance to help Eeez. “And I’m sorry, but I can’t offer you any help. My method of coping won’t work for him.”

Flores de tristeza and an Exorcist, the boy was truly detested by fate.

“I understand.” Oh, he did. That parasite leeching on the boy’s lifespan kept him alive, healed him over and over again so he could keep fulfilling its cursed mission. Tyki wondered what his lungs looked like, whether they were entirely scarred over. “Thank you still, menino.”

Aquilegia atrata

Lenalee was excellent at reading people, even if she couldn’t keep up with Lavi. It was a skill she had learned out of necessity during all her attempts at escaping the Order, searching for weaknesses in her guards, moments where their attention slipped just enough for her to throw herself out of the high towers they kept her in.

No matter how much Allen lied and cheated and smiled, Lenalee could see that it wasn’t true.

And that he was putting too much pressure on himself.

Surrounded by all the Akuma, hunting down Allen’s Master, the fall was inevitable.

Lenalee just hoped she would be there to catch him when it was the time as Komui had been there for her.

Dianthus caryophyllus

Innocence was good and holy.

God’s dearly beloved crystal, sent to save humanity.

Allen had known this deep in his heart, had clung to it when the appearance of his arm had still made him insecure because it gave him purpose. He was not so foolish as to think himself special, one of God’s chosen, but he chose to believe that Innocence mattered.

That it was kind and protected.

“I’m sorry,” Suman Dark apologized under tears he could not cry as Allen kept on screaming, begging him to live and go on, no matter how much the Innocence was eating away at him.

This couldn’t be true; it shouldn’t happen. His own Innocence would never do this to him, had it loved and protected him even against his own father. Yet it was failing him when Allen tried to dig through the violet butterflies, the violent pain. His shoulders trembled terribly as he swallowed down the sharp taste of carnations burning him as much as the artificial insects left nothing of Suman behind.

Cercis siliquastrum

“Fraude A?” Tyki exclaimed, surprised, though he knew he shouldn’t be. He had known that the tristeza boy had been an Exorcist, these plagues liked to flaunt it after all, with their shiny expensive uniforms, and he’d known that they’d eventually clash on the battlefield.

He had just, foolishly perhaps, hoped that it would be a fair battle, one where the boy could give it his all despite his failing, scarred lungs.

Allen Walker.

How pitiful that his name was on Tyki’s list.

“Don’t worry,” Tyki told him. “It doesn’t hurt.”

His words weren’t even a lie, and Tyki knew he could very easily put the boy to rest without him feeling a thing, and yet, he couldn’t help explain his work, act it out, because he wanted to leave his mark on his victim, have Allen Walker grieve flowers for him.

So Tyki crushed his hand, his Innocence, destroyed it with Dark Matter, let the Tease bite into his heart, and left the boy in tears.

Taking his dying breaths, unable to spit any flowers for Tyki. With a grin, he reached deep into the boy’s lung, retrieving judas tree blooms and a silver button.

How sad.

Tyki had hoped for poppies.

Bellis perennis

Allen lay on the ground, his Innocence above him as mist as he struggled for breath. It had never been this bad before. He couldn’t remember a single time where his flowers had been coated in so much blood, he couldn’t tell which kind it was right from the bat.

“You can’t overdo it,” Fo told him, rolling back on her feet almost playfully if not for the severity of the situation. “Your Innocence isn’t healing you anymore.”

I know, Allen wanted to reply. I know, I know, and it is all my fault.

He only wanted to continue on, do as he always had, push through the pain, and fulfill his purpose. Why was it so difficult, why did he struggle so much? Did his Innocence think him a betrayer, nothing worth saving anymore?

Please, he begged into the quiet, his flowers for the first time since he’d started blooming posing a  threat to him. I just want to do my duty.

He grabbed his bloodied flowers with his one good hand and thought about springtime and Mana teaching him how to make daisy chains.

Tagetes lucida

Marigolds were comforting, almost. Allen could feel his throat put itself back together, healing as his body still decided to punish him. He wondered whether the other parasitic Exorcists had felt like this as well, torn between being weapon and host, beloved friend and tool.

He wondered what it might have been like for Maria to be the host of Innocence and spit flowers whenever she needed her throat to sing.

He wondered what her Innocence’s name had been once upon a time before it had become nothing more than Grave of Maria.

(Wondered whether his Master loved him enough to turn him into a doll to be used for battle as Allen would want.

Whether Cross Marian loved him too much to do so.)

“Tell me where my friends are,” Allen ordered and the Akuma complied, truth tasting like marigolds and poppies.

Rosa bracteata: Macartney rose – white rose, typically given to fathers

Flower list

Ornithogalum umbellatum: Star of Bethlehem – atonement for crime, reconciliation, guilt and fear

Calendula officinalis: marigold – pain and grief

Tagetes erecta: marigold

Mentha arvensis: mint – suspicion, lack of trust

Lathyrus odoratus: sweet pea – goodbye, departure

Gypsophila paniculate: baby’s breath – innocence, pure at heart

Papaver nudicaule: poppies

Roseanne giganteus carnivorus: Rosanne from canon

Glaucium flavum: poppies

Aquilegia atrata: purple columbine – driven to win

Dianthus caryophyllus: yellow carnation – disdain, disappointment, rejection

Cercis siliquastrum: judas tree – betrayal, unbelief

Bellis perennis: daisy – innocence, purity, new beginnings

Tagetes lucida: marigold

#dgm #allen walker #tyki mikk #lavi #cross marian #d gray man #fanfic