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bgnmagic · 3 years

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It’s About Time

Arthur was sure he was seeing things. Rubbing his tired eyes for good measure he looked again. Sure enough, a pair of boots was standing empty in a patch of grass next to a tree. Never one to leave anything alone Arthur urged his horse further into the vegetation to investigate. That’s when he spied a body on the forest floor.

A familiar one.

The exhaustion Arthur had been feeling left his limbs in an instant as he practically threw himself from his horse. Rushing forward Arthur knelt down and tried to see what was wrong. “Merlin, are you hurt?” The man in question didn’t look injured, but he was sprawled under a large tree barefoot, his feet submerged in a small creek. Trying again he attempted to rouse Merlin. Reaching forward he shook the warlock’s shoulders. “Merlin! Come on please wake up.” They were so close to Camelot, bandits didn’t dare come this near. That thought did little to comfort Arthur as he waited for a response.

After a moment Merlin stirred at this and groaned softly. “Gaius, not nooow ,” he mumbled.

His manservant’s response calmed him somewhat. Perhaps Merlin had literally been napping. Given the week they’d all had he couldn’t blame the man. Seven days straight of visiting nobleman combined with excessive summer heat had worn them all out. Merlin included. Taking stock of the situation Arthur noted that Merlin’s tunic was pulled up slightly revealing a section of his pale stomach.

Rolling his eyes at his own foolishness Arthur finally understood. Merlin was trying to cool himself off. The streams cool water had to feel good along with a breeze over his exposed skin. Plopping down in the grass Arthur nudged Merlin with his boot. “I’m not Gaius.”

A few seconds passed before Merlin furrowed his brow. Tired blue eyes opened a moment later and looked around. “Wha’r you doing here?” he slurred.

“I was attempting to escape the stifling heat of the castle since our guests have all left. You can imagine my shock at finding a body in the woods instead.”

“Huh, where?” Merlin blurted as he sat up quickly. “I didn’t see anybody when I arrived earlier. I swear I’ve only been out here for an hour tops.”

Sighing Arthur shook his head. “I was referring to you Merlin. I saw your body and thought you were hurt.”

“Oh.”

“Wha--.”

“Why would I be hurt?” Merlin interjected with a puzzled look.

Arthur blinked slowly, given the amount of adventures they had together that shouldn’t have seemed like an odd excuse. “Must I remind you of what you constantly tell me? Something about shared destinies and having to protect me. You have an uncanny ability to get hurt more than the average person.”

Merlin shook his head and yawned widely. “I do not, you attract too much trouble, and therefore I get hurt.”

Barking out a laugh Arthur shoved Merlin for good measure. “It’s gotten better though right?”

“By a hair,” Merlin griped as he scratched his head and stretched.

Seeing Merlin slightly disheveled was causing his mind to wander. They’d had a discussion in the past about their feelings for each other. Merlin had unhelpfully suggested they try and remain friends only. His reasoning had been focused around Arthur’s new role as king. However, that had been nearly eight months ago and Arthur wanted to revisit the topic.

Everyone already knew about their feelings, there was nothing left to hide even Merlin’s magic had been revealed. That had been a trying time, Arthur had known deep down why Merlin had lied to him but it still hurt. If anything the revelation made his desire to be with Merlin even stronger.

Taking in Merlin’s still flushed cheeks and sweaty brow Arthur decided they both needed a better way to cool down. “Would you like to take a swim?” he offered without any preamble.

Merlin’s eyes widened at the suggestion. “What, right now?”

“Why not, it’s hot and the water will feel good.” Arthur could tell Merlin was working to find a suitable answer. Though, admittedly he looked cute sitting there moving his lips but not saying a word.

“Is it alright? Won’t we be missed? I wasn’t planning on being gone for so long.”

“I’ve informed Leon about my general intent so he knows where to start looking if something comes up. I think after this week everyone is too tired to make a fuss.”

“Will you go swimming too?”

“Of course, I’m melting simply sitting here in the shade. We don’t even have to walk there,” Arthur offered as incentive.

“You brought out your horse?!”

Shrugging Arthur looked over at the animal nearby, “I wasn’t sure how far I’d go and honestly I assumed the breeze from riding fast would help.”

“The horse will get hot too!” Merlin exclaimed.

“I know I realized that after I left. That’s why I was able to spot your boots when I rode by, I was going slowly. So, are you up for a swim?” Arthur tried again.

Merlin nodded and slowly stood up. “You don’t think it’ll be warm do you? That would be such a letdown.”

Arthur snorted, “will you shut up and grab your boots, if we doddle anymore it’ll be dark by the time we get back to the castle.”

“Dollophead,” Merlin spat back without hesitation.

Playfully shoving Merlin on his way over to his horse Arthur swung up into the saddle and waited. Merlin didn’t bother to put his socks and boots on he simply picked his way through the foliage towards them. A gentle grip on his ankle alerted Arthur to Merlin’s intent. Taking his foot out of the stirrup he waited as Merlin swung onto the back of the horse. The warlock’s body giving off a pleasant heat despite the weather, as they slowly rode along towards the lake.

The idea of discussing their feelings again prodded at Arthur’s brain. They were together and alone, it was perfect. Taking a breath to speak gave Arthur pause. Maybe waiting until they were in the water would be better. Merlin couldn’t run away from the topic as easily then.

Companionable silence fell between them as Arthur guided the horse along the path. When the lake came into view Arthur could feel his tired body relaxing already. How long had it been since he’d been able to simply take a swim. He couldn’t remember.

Once stopped, Merlin slipped off the back of the horse with ease and dropped his boots under the shade of a tree. His manservant could be graceful if he wanted, why he chose to hide that side of his nature was a mystery to Arthur. Merlin calling out to him broke his stupor.

“I know you’re not shy, what are you waiting for?”

“Shut up Merlin,” Arthur huffed as he dismounted. Once the horse was comfortable he joined Merlin in the shade. “You’re one to talk, get on with it,” he gestured towards Merlin.

“You first,” mumbled Merlin with a pout.

“Insufferable,” groused Arthur before bending over to take off his boots, looking up revealed Merlin finally taking his own clothes off. Once they were both down to their breeches Arthur decided to have a little fun. “Come here, you have something in your hair.”

Merlin must have been overly tired because he pulled a face and traipsed over. Alert Merlin would have never fallen for that trick. The second he was within striking range, Arthur raced forward and tackled his friend, lifting him up over his shoulder. Merlin shouted something rude but it was drown out when Arthur bodily threw him into the lake. The splash the warlock made was enough to get Arthur wet.

Caught up in the moment and honestly laughing so hard he couldn’t stand up straight Arthur forgot one thing. Merlin could openly use his magic. The wave of water that came flying back at him a minute later soaked him immediately. The water felt so refreshing he couldn’t be bothered to care. Feigning exhaustion he stepped forward and flopped into the water.

The joy of seeing Merlin so relaxed made Arthur forget his plan. They lazed about swimming for nearly half an hour, too tired to really talk.

Merlin broke the calm some time later, “my fingers are getting pruny we should probably get out.”

Suddenly worried they would pack up and leave without talking Arthur tried to think of anything to keep them from heading home. “We could dry off under the tree.”

“I might fall asleep again, you’ve been warned.”

“Not a problem, remember we’ve got a horse to get us back. You can pass out; I’ll simply tie you to the saddle.”

Shaking his head Merlin swam towards shore and slowly walked out. Arthur followed closely and they both sat down to rest in the shade.

“You know I could magic us dry and then we’d be able to go home now,” Merlin offered as he yawned.

Arthur nearly agreed but panicked. He still wanted to talk to Merlin about their relationship. Granted he could do that in his own chambers but that setting didn’t seem private enough, despite being behind a locked door.

“Merlin, I wanted to ask you something before we head back.”

“No, I didn’t make sir Marwen trip with my magic, he’s just naturally that clumsy.”

“What? No, that’s not – really you didn’t?” Arthur checked disbelieving. “He fell all the time.”

“Yeah, he’s always drunk Arthur. I told you.”

“Sure, of course, but that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong all week and you know it, and no one harassed me. I would have told you like you asked.”

“Will you shut up for moment? I’m trying to ask you if we can court!” Arthur blurted. “I don’t think I want to take no for an answer this time.”

“Really?” Merlin asked softly.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I know, and I – I love you too.”

“Then why the hell can’t we be together?!” demanded Arthur.

Merlin actually laughed and ducked his head. “Arthur I want to be with you now, I have for a while. I wasn’t sure if it was the right time, you needed to focus on filling your father’s shoes and running a kingdom.” The warlock paused to make eye contact. “Are you ready to make everything that much more complicated? I’m not a queen, I can’t give you an heir, and I’m a royal consort at best.”

“I’d be proud to show you off as my royal consort,” he replied quietly. “Merlin, I did as you asked I gave this,” Arthur motioned between them, “space. I’m ready to have you in my life wholly. The idea of you not being there with me – makes me – I can’t, please.”

“You sure?” Merlin checked.

“Yes!”

“Does this mean I still have to be your manservant?”

Sighing at his cheeky warlock, Arthur figured now was as good a time as any to tell Merlin his grand plan. “Actually, no. I’ve been working with the council to repeal the bans on magic, meaning I could, and I will appoint you court sorcerer.”

Merlin’s eyes went comically large, “Really? I knew you were debating, but you stopped talking about it with me a couple months ago, I figured --.”

“That I forgot or changed my mind?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t forget Merlin I was hoping to surprise you. To show you how much I cared.”

“Well, it worked,” Merlin offered with a grin.

“So I can court you? You accept my offer?” Arthur checked.

Merlin nodded and smiled, “Yes, I accept. When can I quit?”

Arthur knew exactly what Merlin was doing and laughed despite himself. “Idiot, I still need help. Can’t you do your chores faster with magic anyway?”

“Oh, low blow Pendragon.”

“Fine, you can’t really be a servant and the court sorcerer anyway, that’s odd.”

“Exactly, but I don’t mind helping you.”

“I’ll try to be mindful of what I ask of you. Let’s head back it’s getting dark and I’m getting hungry.”

The ride back to the castle was peaceful. Merlin’s head would occasionally hit his shoulder as they ambled along. Arthur assumed he was trying not to fall asleep. The moment they’d entered the courtyard Arthur sent word to have George sent to his chambers. Merlin made a small noise at the request but kept silent.

“Don’t get any ideas, and run off later, you’re mine tonight,” Arthur whispered as they walked through the halls towards his room.

“I take it I’m not to be doing any of my regular duties for the rest of the evening?” Merlin shot back with a smirk.

“Nope.”

Merlin didn’t question him further and easily went where Arthur directed him. He even kept quiet when they arrived and Arthur pushed him towards the window seat. George appeared ten minutes later and was given instructions to bring food up for them. While they waited Arthur went and opened all the windows to get a nice breeze. “Take off your boots, the floor will feel cool.”

An unintelligible noise was the only response Arthur received as Merlin pried off his footwear and relocated to the table to wait for food. It was obvious he was tired. Merlin had been run ragged the whole week attending to everyone’s needs. The warlock might not be prime servant material due to his constant sass, but he was loyal. That alone made Arthur always willing to offer up Merlin for any task. He’d have to get used to finding others for those sorts of things. Merlin was to become his official court sorcerer among other things.

Happy to think of the future for once, Arthur finally took a seat and waited in comfortable silence for dinner. Merlin had fallen asleep with his head pillowed in his arms when George returned. He awoke with a start when George placed a hot plate of food under his nose. Unable to keep from laughing Arthur waited for George to leave before he leaned over and shoved Merlin in the arm.

“Ow, why’d you do that?”

“Suck it up, you can handle it.”

“Mmpratmm,” Merlin grumbled with a mouth full of food.

“What color should your hat be?”

“For what? The magic job?” Merlin asked in between bites. “Red, obviously, I want a tassel off the side, no feathers,” he finished with a glare.

Snorting at the memory of Merlin in a ridiculous hat, Arthur continued to eat while asking him silly questions. Before long all the food had been devoured and Merlin went to lay his head back down on the table.

“Oi, come on, let’s go sit by the window. The breeze will feel good.”

Arthur manhandled Merlin to get him up and out of the chair. As they walked together Merlin draped an arm around his shoulder and leaned to brush a kiss against his neck. Arthur sighed happily, he was exhausted and wished they could do more but this was enough for now. The remainder of the evening was spent entangled together on the window seat watching the moon rise.

Merlin woke with a start; the sun was streaming across the bed and around Arthur’s chambers, casting everything in a perfect golden glow. He was in Arthur’s bed, how the hell did that happen? Looking around in a panic he sat up quickly to assess the situation. That was when the Arthur shaped lump in the bed next to him spoke.

“You’re safe, we’re courting, n’you’re my sorcerer. Not dreaming, m’kay.” The king mumbled sleepily.

Laughing nervously Merlin tried to think of a witty comeback. Nothing came to mind, Arthur had covered it all. Expect one thing, “do I have to grab breakfast?”

Arthur opened his eyes at that question and stared. “No, I mean if you want, but no, no, stay here, fuck breakfast, not forever though I’m going to get hungry,” Arthur babbled.

“How’d I get in the bed I don’t remember anything but watching the moon.”

“I carried you cause you deserve to be treated like a queen. I mean a consort. Damn.” Arthur worked his arm free from the confines of the sheets and blindly reached around until he landed on Merlin’s wrist. “Shut up Merlin, sleep with me.”

“Uh right now?” Merlin asked incredulously. “The servants might find us in the act and I’m still tired, are you su--.”

“Fuck. No, sleep as in actual sleep not fooling around. That comes later, I promise. Shhhhhhh you need to lie down and sleep.”

Laughing Merlin took a deep breath and reclined into the bedding, he could get used to this. They had lots to figure out with everything changing, for now Merlin was content to simply be with Arthur. Going back to sleep sounded like the best idea ever. Closing his eyes Merlin drifted off holding Arthur’s hand.

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the-sympathetic-villain · 4 years

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You Belong With Me - Chapter 7

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.

Word Count: 6333

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, Mentions of torture and past abuse, Mentions of imprisonment and dehumanizing treatment, Mentions of being restrained (All of this is talked about, not happening and it's mostly nondescript.)

Author’s note: This chapter is long and it gets pretty heavy at points. Just be aware as you read! :)

Roman was ominously quiet as he led Logan through the tower. They turned quickly through the winding hallways, making their way down towards the ground floor. Uneasiness settled over Logan as he watched Roman turned corners ahead of him. He wanted to trust Roman's intentions but he struggled to resist his growing anxiety at being led to an unknown destination.

Logan took a deep breath, slowing his pace as Roman approached a set of large, oaken double doors. Two guards stood at either side of the entrance to the castle. Roman stopped and nodded at them, waiting patiently as the door was pushed open for them. The guard gave Roman a slight bow as he held it open for the prince. Roman ducked through the door with Logan following closely behind. Logan felt the hairs on his neck stand on end as the guards stared at him. Their gaze felt dangerous. With a slight shiver, he moved closer to Roman as the prince led him out into the courtyard.

Trying to shake his nervousness, Logan couldn’t help but let his gaze drift up as Roman led him down one of the paths away from the castle. As they made their way across the courtyard, a series of enormous greenhouses had emerged into view. He followed, confused, as Roman veered off the path towards them, muttering under his breath. Logan stared anxiously at Roman as he followed behind, waiting for an explanation for his unusual behavior.

Finally, Roman stopped near the entrances to the greenhouses and turned back to Logan. “I have to admit. I'm not actually sure which building he's supposed to be in today.”

Logan's skin prickled but he kept his voice steady. “Who?”

“Our chief botanist.”

“Oh.” Logan relaxed. Realization on why Roman had dragged him out of the tower struck him. He had assumed that his new project would take place at the library but admittedly, Roman's plan seemed more direct. He exhaled, relieved.

“He's an odd, little fellow. A little excitable, but amazingly intelligent. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone in the realm who knows more about plants than him.” He paused, scanning the buildings. “I’m fairly certain he's in the third building today.”

“You know his schedule?”

Roman shrugged his shoulder, grinning at Logan. “Clearly not well enough, but yes. He's a good friend so I like to keep track of him.”

Roman stepped into one of the greenhouses, quickly making his way through the narrow, aisles of planters. Logan stopped abruptly upon entering the building. He had never seen so many different plants in his life. The room was filled to the brim with colorful, exotic plants of all shapes and sizes lined up neatly into individual planters. Some of the larger plants reached nearly to the ceiling, creeping up the walls of the greenhouse. Logan breathed deeply, inhaling the sweet scents drifting through the warm, dense air. Finally, he caught his breath, noticing Roman was getting away from him. He increased his pace, making up for lost ground following the prince, his eyes dancing around at the rows of colorful flora.

They passed through the first building without any luck. Roman was frustrated but Logan carefully concealed a glimmer of excitement. For Roman’s sake, he tried not to appear overly excited, but he secretly looked forward to exploring the other buildings.

He eagerly followed Roman into the next building. Logan’s jaw dropped. Giant, dark pink and green vines covered the walls, enclosing a series of tall, dark ashen trees that were spaced evenly throughout the building. Long, billowing, thin branches drifting down from the treetops. Sweet smells drifted through the air as they made their way along the narrow path through the greenhouse. Logan stifled a surprised gasp as he followed Roman through the undergrowth. The other greenhouse had been neatly organized into sections and various planters but this building seemed to contain its own small ecosystem. Logan looked down at the ground. The entirety of the space was covered in small azure blooms and golden flowers. The narrow, winding paths were the only break among the dense foliage around them.

“Wow.” He muttered under his breath.

Roman continued forward into the into the greenhouse unfazed, following the narrow path in front of them. As they made their way forward, the a small clearing opened up to reveal a small pond in the center. Large, colorful fish circled around in the pond.

Logan's ears perked up as a soft, distant voice rose out of the silence. The gentle melody gradually filled the room around them as they made their way deeper into the greenery.

“Oh, good. He's here somewhere." Roman commented as led Logan along the path, seemingly seeking out the source of the soft voice.

“How do you know?”

“He's the only one who sings to the plants.”

“He sings to the plants?”

“Umm… yeah.” Roman shrugged. “He says it helps them grow better.”

Logan looked to the room around him. “That's admittedly, an… odd hypothesis but considering this place is clearly thriving, it's hard for me to question his methods.”

Ahead of them, Logan noticed a small figure crouched over the flowers. His soft voice filled the air. Logan didn’t recognize the language of the lyrics but the song was pleasantly sweet, drifting lightly through the space.

“Patton?” Roman called out.

The figure spun around and his face brightened. He turned and ran towards them, dancing carefully to avoid stepping on the flowers. “Roman!”

Roman smiled. “Hello, my friend. Can we bother you for a moment?”

“You could never bother me, Ro.” He quickly swung Roman into a hug, nearly knocking him over as he ran up to them. Roman steadied them, hugging him back, closing his eyes until Patton finally released him.

Logan waited patiently behind them. A moment later the stranger pulled back from Roman and turned to Logan. Logan barely held back a yelp as Patton hopped over to him, quickly pulling him into a hug. Logan froze, unsure of how to process the sudden display of affection. He looked to Roman for guidance but the prince simply smiled over at Logan and shrugged. Logan turned his head back to Patton, awkwardly patting the stranger’s back until he was released.

“And who are you? I don't think I've met you before.”

Who hugs someone before even knowing who they are?

Patton looked up at him expectedly.

“My name is Logan.” He glanced quickly at Roman, before looking back at Patton. “I’m Roman's new advisor.”

“Oh yeah! You helped save Ro!”

“Umm…yes.” Logan glanced nervously over at the prince who was still smiling at him. “Although, admittedly, the situation was more complicated than that.”

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Create a cure or whatever you did? Everyone in the castle searched for solutions but none of them had any effect on him at all. You really came out of nowhere with a perfect antidote.”

Logan hesitated, not wanting to come across as arrogant. He cleared his throat. “I used to apprentice with a local apothecary. The skills I developed there enabled me to reverse-engineer an antidote from the original poison in the dart.”

“That's amazing. We were so lucky you were around.” A grin stretched across Patton's face.

Patton's chaotic energy nearly overwhelmed Logan. He'd never met someone who was so unnervingly optimistic and energetic and, especially after his recent incarceration, most people were immediately suspicious of him. He couldn't blame anyone for their suspicion. The circumstances of his release were unusual to even the most forgiving of observers, but somehow Patton didn't seem the slightest bit bothered.

“Actually, Patton,” Roman began, pulling Patton's attention away from Logan. “That's why we're here. I would like you to assist Logan in identifying the poison that was used in the attack.”

“Oh! Interesting! I suppose I could be of some help figuring that out.” Patton seemed like he almost bouncing before he paused. A look of confusion stretched across his face. He turned back to Logan. “But, don't you already know what the poison is? Didn't you have to know in order to make the antidote?”

Logan was quiet, struggling to find his words.

Roman turned his gaze to Logan. “I have to admit, I've been wondering that as well.”

With all eyes on him, Logan's cheeks burned. He forced himself to make eye contact with Patton. “I'm afraid you may find my answer inadequate but, once I had the dart in my possession, I simply knew what I needed to do to make the antidote.”

“You just knew?”

Logan could hear the disbelief in Roman's voice as he turned to face him. Unable to handle the prince’s disapproving stare, he looked sheepishly away. “I know how it sounds, Roman.”

“Do you? Because it sounds like you risked my life on nothing but a hunch.” Roman paused. “Either that, or you’re lying to me.”

Logan bit his lip, hearing the seriousness in Roman's tone. He looked up at the prince, meeting the Roman's stern gaze with a determined look. “I'm not lying to you Roman and I did not risk your health unnecessarily. I was certain the treatment would be effective and I knew if I neglected to act, your death would be the likely outcome.”

“How could you possibly know that with so little information?” Roman crossed his arms, looking down at Logan uncertainly.

Logan faltered. “I…I don't know. I’ve been over what happened dozens of times in my head. When I opened the chamber of the dart to investigate the substance, I instantly knew how dangerous it was. It's possible I've worked with this poison before and simply don't remember the specific details of learning how to treat it."

Roman was silent, his face inscrutable.

Logan met Roman’s disbelief with a surge of determination. “It's not a simple process to create an antidote. I didn't guess and hope for the best outcome. I was certain of what I was doing at each step. Somehow, my subconscious mind must have been able to tap into information my conscious mind was unable to recall but I've never been more certain of anything than I was that night.”

Roman's voice softened. “Still, it seems like a shot in the dark.”

“Everything that I did that night was done against nearly impossible odds, but I was certain the antidote would work. I just needed to get it to you.” Logan looked down at the ground, tucking his shaking hands behind his back. “I know… I know that your trust that I acted in your best interests that night is all that keeps me from being returned to my imprisonment. I wish I had a better explanation for you, Roman, but this is the truth of what happened and you're alive because of it.”

A moment of silence hung over them before he heard Patton speak.

“Ro…”

“I know, Pat.”

Logan flinched as Roman's hand touched his arm, not realizing the prince had approached him. He looked up to see nothing but gentle concern in Roman’s eyes.

“I believe you.” Roman reassured him. He reached over to Logan’s shoulder, pulling him into an embrace. “Logan, you saved my life. You're not ever going back.”

Logan let himself be held a moment before he felt another pair of soft arms wrap around him from behind. He glanced behind his shoulder to see tufts of Patton’s hair and smiled.

“Thank you.” Logan whispered softly.

“There’s no need to thank anyone.” Roman reassured him as he released his grip. Logan could feel Patton nodding behind him as he let go. Roman rested his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Let's move on, okay? We still need to track down who did this.”

Logan nodded appreciatively.

Roman turned to Patton. “Can you pull yourself away from your work for a while?”

“Sure thing, Ro.” Patton nodded enthusiastically. “Everything is basically taken care of this afternoon. Follow me. I have some parchment we can use to record your symptoms and their timeline. We can narrow down the search from there.” Patton gingerly stepped around them, careful not to crush the flowers. He gestured for Roman and Logan to follow him back to the entrance of the greenhouse.

Bright, light flooded Logan’s eyes as he stepped out of the building. He hadn't realized how much of the light the trees inside had been blocking until he stepped out into the daylight. He blinked quickly, trying to adjust to the light as he moved across the courtyard. Patton let them over to a small, wooden hut. The small home was dwarfed by the massive, glass buildings sitting adjacent to it.

He followed Patton and Roman up the stairs through the front door of the hut. Once inside, he glanced around the cluttered but cozy home. Every surface was covered in Patton’s possessions. The air smelled of herbs and he could see various bunches of plants hanging from the ceiling, drying. A fireplace stood on the western wall with a large, comfortable-looking chair resting just in front of the mantelpiece. His home was all one room and Logan could see Patton’s bed sitting on the eastern wall. He watched as Patton pulled out his desk chair, sitting down as he started to dig through the drawers. Roman automatically dropped into the large armchair, turning it slightly to face Patton and waiting for him to be ready. Logan stood at the entrance, hesitating slightly. Patton glanced up at him.

“You can sit on the bed, Logan. You don't need to stand.” Patton said, gesturing to the bed.

“Oh, are you sure? I certainly don't mind standing.”

“No! You should sit! This could take a while. Please, make yourself comfortable.” Patton protested, smiling at him again before turning back to his desk.

“Okay, thank you.” Logan smiled back. He appreciated Patton’s concern for him. Few people had expressed such genuine concern for his well-being, especially recently.

“Alright, Patton. Let's begin.” Roman directed.

“Okay!” Patton said joyously. He rolled out a piece of parchment. After weighing down the corners, he pulled out a quill and inkwell. “How did you come into contact with the poison?”

“By dart.” Roman said, absentmindedly rubbing his neck where the dart had struck.

“Do you have the it with you?”

“Yes.” Roman nodded and pulled out a small leather pouch. He handed it over to Patton.

Patton gingerly took it from Roman. Setting the pouch on the table, he pulled on a pair of leather gloves that had been sitting on his desk. Once his hands were protected, he pulled the dart out, laying it down on his desk. He was quiet for a while, examining the dart. He looked up at Roman “After the dart struck you, did you faint?”

“Nearly immediately. I felt a prick in my neck, and I didn't even have a chance to pull it out before my vision blurred and faded to black. I don't remember anything after that until I woke up a little over an hour later.”

Patton nodded, turning to Logan. “Logan, you were there too, right? What do you remember?”

“Oh, um…” He glanced cautiously at Roman, before turning back to face Patton. “I was walking down the hall when I saw Roman. I’d rarely visited the castle in the past but my master, the apothecary, needed me to make a delivery of herbs to one of his patrons who lived in the tower that day.”

Logan looked up and Patton nodded for him to continue.

“The hall was empty except for Roman walking toward me. I remember feeling unsettled by the quietness of the halls. Roman's cry pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up and watched him stumble, the dart sticking out of his neck. He stood at the intersection of two hallways, so I could only assume his assailant was standing in the perpendicular corridor, out of my line of sight.” Logan shuddered at the memory. “I tried to rush forward to help Roman but before I could reach him, I was grabbed from behind. A piece of cloth was shoved in my face. It didn't smell of anything but there must have been something there because my vision faded seconds later. The next thing I remember is waking up in a prison cell hours later.”

“How did you get the dart?” Roman asked, not breaking eye contact with Logan.

“What?” Logan struggled to steady his voice.

“How did you get the dart?” Roman asked again, with a serious expression. “Earlier, you told Patton you reverse-engineered an antidote from the serum in the dart. So, where did you get the dart?”

Logan looked down at the ground. He considered lying but now was as good of a time as any to come clean. He swallowed nervously. “It wasn't the same dart that struck you. I…I managed to obtain one while in my cell afterwards.”

Roman’s eyes bore into him and Logan fidgeted nervously under his gaze.

Finally, Patton broke the silence. “His story makes sense Roman.”

Roman looked over at Patton, reluctantly turning away from Logan. “What do you mean, Pat?”

Patton held the dart out to Roman, pointing at the jagged edge of the tip. “The tip of this dart is designed to be a weak point. It's made of a different material that's sharp but intentionally fragile. It's made to pierce the skin and break off. Once the tip breaks, the serum is free to flow into your blood.”

“How does that corroborate Logan’s story?” The prince asked, raising an eyebrow.

“When the dark struck you, all of the poison from the dart would have been released into your body.” Patton manipulated the dart until the chamber popped open. He held it out to Roman. “See? It’s empty. Barely a trace of the poison is still here.”

Patton paused, turning the dart in his hand. “I've never done it personally but from what I understand, in most cases, the base of the antidote is often made of the original poison. It’s part of the reason no one else was able to help you. The dart recovered from your body was empty. We had no starting point to work from. In order to have a chance at saving you, Logan would have had to get his hands on a second dart or some the serum.”

Roman nodded and looked over at Logan again. “Where is the second dart?”

Logan flushed red with nervousness. “I-I don't know.”

Roman stared at him, unblinking.

Logan continued quickly, his voice shaking with guilt. “I’m sorry, sir. I had the dart on me when I administered the antidote to you in your infirmary room but I was apprehended by your guard shortly after. The sleeping guard in your infirmary room woke just after I'd finished giving you the dose. He was so fast.” Logan shook, wrapping his arms around himself. His palms were sweaty, and he could feel his hands shaking. “He—he grabbed me. His arm was wrapped around my throat. I couldn’t b-b-breathe.”

“Logan?”

Logan looked up. He was surprised to see that Roman was leaned towards him, his eyes filled with concern.

“Take a breath. There's no rush. You’re not in any trouble, okay?”

Logan nodded. He briefly glanced at Patton, who smiled at him reassuringly. He looked down at the ground, taking a few deep breaths and recollecting himself. He could feel Patton and Roman watching him with bated breath. He sighed, exhausted.

“I passed out. I was certain I was going to die there but, by some miracle, I woke up some time later in the cell I'd been held in the previous night. Metal cuffs bound my hands to the wall so I couldn’t escape the way I had before.”

Roman looked over at him guiltily. “And the dart?”

Logan shrugged. “It was gone when I woke. Taken from me while I was unconscious.” Logan leaned back against the cold wall behind him, pulling his legs up on the edge of the bed.

Guilt showed on Roman’s face as he leaned closer. “Logan, I'm really sorry that I have to push you like this, but I need to know what happened. How did you manage to get the dart while you were in your cell the first time?”

Logan nodded tiredly at him. “After the incident in the hallway, I woke up in my cell. I panicked and pleaded to be released. That's when the guard told me I was being held under suspicion of attempting to kill you. I didn’t know what to do. They’d framed me for murder, and I knew a death sentence was inevitable, if the charges stood.” He took a deep breath.

Roman's expression dropped. He bit his lip and spoke gently. “I'm sorry, Logan. None of that should never have happened.”

Logan shrugged, not looking up. “It's fine.”

“It's really not. You didn't deserve any of this.” Roman said, his voice shaking as he leaned forward. “But it's over. You’re not going back there, Logan. Not ever.”

Logan looked up at Roman with a faint smile. He appreciated that Roman cared enough to be upset that he was mistreated. He paused. His breath caught in his throat. A sudden nervousness overwhelmed him as memories flooded back to him. He could feel tears welling in his eyes. “That night, t-they c-came…”

Logan flinched as Roman stood up, trembling as he approached. Moving slowly, Roman slid onto the bed next to Logan. Eyeing Roman cautiously, Logan winced but didn't pull away as Roman’s reached around him, pulling Logan’s head to his shoulder and wrapping his arms around him. Logan’s body was rigid with tension and his hands were shaking as Roman pulled Logan close his chest, holding him tightly.

Logan went limp in the prince’s arms. The constant stream of consciousness in his brain finally calmed as he leaned into Roman's warm, gentle embrace. After all the pain he'd endured, the simple pleasure of Roman’s hug made his body relax. His mind finally started to quiet as his anxiety melted away.

Roman held him patiently until he regained his composure. Logan pulled away slowly. Roman released him reluctantly but he didn't move from the bed, keeping an arm wrapped loosely around Logan's shoulder.

After a moment, Patton finally broke the silence, speaking quietly. “I'm sorry to have brought all of this up. I didn't mean to upset you, kiddo.”

“Don't be sorry, Patton.” Logan shook his head and quickly reassured him. “It's clearly not a comfortable subject for me but I need to share what I know, for my sake and for Roman’s.”

“You’re right. It's important and you’re doing so good, kiddo.” Patton smiled at him.

“I think I can keep going.” He took a breath and looked over at Roman.

Roman nodded at him.

“When the sun set in the dungeons, the guards let certain sadistic individuals into the prison cells. I suspect they bribed the guards for access to the prisoners and I was an easy target since no one expected me to last long if Roman died.” Logan spoke the last few words through gritted teeth.

Roman’s grip tightened on his shoulder.

“And if you’d died, no one would have questioned the injuries I sustained, assuming I was granted a trial at all.” Logan was silent for a few seconds. “There was nowhere to escape them. They enjoyed every second of my anguish and fighting back only made their punishments more extreme. I’m honestly fortunate to have avoided any permanent damage.”

Logan felt Roman's arm tense around him. Logan glanced nervously over at Roman, wondering if he’d said too much. His face was full of rage, shaded with a touch of sadness. Logan hesitated to continue.

“Keep going,” Patton encouraged. “It's hard for us to hear and I’m sure it's even harder for you to talk about but it's important we know the whole story, kiddo.”

Logan looked away from Roman, nodding at Patton. “They’d be in my cell for hours at night. It started small the first night.” Logan paused. “But their actions escalated as my tolerance for the pain increased. Fortunately, at least the first night, they seemed to want me fully conscious for their… activities. So, they avoided injuring my head. If they hadn't, I may have been concussed and too injured to escape and save Roman.”

Roman held up his hands to stop him. “Logan, all of that happened to you. You were assaulted, imprisoned and tortured. Then, you escaped, and instead of fleeing, your first thought was to save me?”

Logan shrugged. “Both logically and morally, it was my only choice I could make.”

“You could have died.” Roman protested.

“If I stayed in my cell, I would have been executed. If I’d fled the castle, either the royal guard would have apprehended and returned me to my cell or I would have died of exposure leaving the kingdom.” Logan paused, looking down at his hands. “There was no escape for me. You at still had a slim chance, if I could get to you in time.”

Roman sat in stunned silence, his face unreadable. A few minutes passed before Patton prompted him to continue. “You still haven’t told us how you got the other dart, kiddo.”

“Right.” Logan tiredly looked up at Patton. “In my attempts to appease them, I pleaded with them that I was innocent. I'm honestly not sure what I expected. What they were doing was clearly not of a legal nature, but I suppose I hoped that their brutality was a result of believing that I had tried to kill the prince but I couldn’t have been more wrong. The man who seemed to be their leader got close to my face. Uncomfortably close.” Logan shivered at the memory. “He whispered in my ear that he knew I didn't try to kill you because he had.”

Roman exhaled, wrapping his arm tighter around Logan’s shoulder. Logan leaned into Roman’s shoulder, closing his eyes. His voice quivered.

“He continued to…toy with me. At some point, I noticed the dart gun in his waistband. I took a risk and charged him. He fell to the ground stunned and I managed to kick one of the darts under the bed and out of sight before the other two men grabbed me.” Logan sighed. “He—he made sure I regretted fighting back. I'm honestly lucky that they didn't just kill me outright.” He exhaled, relieved to be nearing the end of his story. “Once they left my cell, I examined the dart and fortunately, it looked exactly like the dart that I'd seen hit Roman’s neck. I… liberated myself from my cell, utilized my skills to create the antidote and the rest you know.”

“How did you escape your cell?” Patton leaned closer.

“There was a stool in the cell. It was battered and broken but I was able to use the metal legs to give myself enough leverage to break the lock.” He paused, looking down at the ground. “They bolted my shackles to the wall after that, so that I couldn't reach the door.”

Roman opened his mouth almost like he meant to say something, but he gave an agitated sigh. He looked away, taking his arm from around Logan’s shoulder. Logan could feel the bed shift as Roman moved. Logan watched him, anxiously awaiting his response. After a minute, Roman finally found his words. Hesitantly, he spoke. “Logan, you said they avoided your head yet you clearly have injuries on your face.”

Logan looked away from Roman, reluctantly responding. “That was only the first night. After that, they weren't so generous. I may have delivered you the antidote that first night, but I was returned to my cell shortly after I was recaptured and I wasn’t released from there until you were fully healed a few days ago. The men returned night after night and I was at their mercy, unable to escape. A few times they even came during the day and caught me off guard and make me too paranoid to sleep.”

Logan took a deep breath. “Fortunately, they must not have predicted you'd take a personal interest in me. Otherwise, I doubt they'd have kept me alive as long as they did.”

“I’m so sorry, Logan. You didn't deserve any of that. If I’d had my way, you would have been released immediately after I'd woken.” Roman pleaded, guilt evident in his voice.

“I know, Roman. I have no doubt that you advocated for me and I do not blame you for what happened.” Logan paused, looking earnestly at Roman. “Ultimately, I made it through. In some respects, I should be grateful. I have chance at a better life because of you.”

“I would never have asked you to pay so dearly for that opportunity.” Roman closed his eyes. His voice shook with emotion and his face flushed with anger.

Logan breathed deeply, feeling Roman’s emotions radiating off him. He'd never seen the prince so upset before. It surprised him. He never imagined his experiences would have any affect on someone like Roman.

“I'm okay now, Roman.” Logan smiled weakly at him.

“I know and I'm glad for that. Truly, I am.” Roman gently placed his hand over the bruises on Logan’s cheek. “I just also know I have a lot of work to do to make sure this never happens to anyone ever again.”

Patton cleared his throat, bringing them back to the matter at hand. He held the dart in his gloved hands. “I think it’s safe to say the dart contained two substances. I don't know of any poison that takes effect so immediately and does not kill you in a matter of minutes.”

Logan looked up to him, glad to move on. “You're right. When I was initially examining the dart, it appeared to be coated in one substance and had a reservoir of poison in a chamber dart. The substance in the internal reservoir is what I used to create the antidote.”

“Okay! Good, Logan. That's a starting point!” Patton said excitedly. His optimistic energy seemed to be recovering quickly from the intensity a moment ago. “I don’t think identifying the sedative is worth our time. There are several local plants that can have the effect and every herbalist in the kingdom will be selling some equivalent of this sedative. It’d be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“Great.” Roman said with a touch of disappointment.

“Oh… Don't worry, Ro.” Patton smiled knowingly at him. “Though the sedative may not be worth identifying, the poison certainly is. Fortunately, from what I know of your affliction, there are no poisons that grow locally that behave like this one. Without a doubt, it was imported.”

“If we can narrow down our search, we could narrow down who’s been importing or at least where it was sold.” Logan commented.

“Exactly." Patton beamed at him. "Roman, tell me what you remember about how the poison affected you.”

“Well, the poison didn't seem to affect me immediately. It was early in the morning that I was ambushed in the hallway. I woke in the infirmary room an hour or so later. My mouth and throat burned but otherwise I wasn't feeling ill. As time went on though, I got worse. I started feeling weak and my head was still hazy from the sedative. After a few hours, I wasn't able to deny my pain any longer. My stomach started cramping until I couldn’t stand. I was rushed to the infirmary. The pain was blinding and I was burning up. My chest was tight. I felt like I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. I was so weak that I couldn’t sit up without assistance. Maybe twelve hours after the attack, sometime after sunset, I passed out again.” Roman shrugged. “I still don't remember anything after that until I woke a few days later. I was still weak but the pain had abated.”

Logan felt a lump in his throat. Outside of being relieved to hear that the prince had recovered, he hadn’t considered what Roman had gone through in the last couple weeks. He felt guilty for not even considering Roman’s pain after all the kindness he had showed him. Logan took a breath. He was starting to realize he had drastically underestimated how much he’d started to care for the kind prince. He reached over and rested his hand on Roman's forearm, hoping to comfort him.

“That's a good start for identifying the poison.” Patton said, smiling at them on the bed. He pulled out a couple large books from off the mantel of the fireplace.

“Logan, can you help me go through these?”

“Of course,” Logan said, reluctantly leaving Roman.

Patton and Logan sifter through the information in the books. Each book contains hundreds of species poisonous plants, though they ruled out several immediately. For hours, they poured through the books, occasionally asking Roman questions about his experience with the poison.

Logan's anxiety eased the longer they sat in Patton's hut. He felt right at home perusing through Patton’s books, doing research and searching for a clear answer. It'd been a long time since he had a problem he could solve so he threw himself into it whole-heartedly. He glanced over at Roman and smiled, noticing the prince was having a harder time staying involved. Logan kept an eye on him out of the corner of his eyes and he could see the prince appeared to be dozing off.

“Come look at this one!” Patton said suddenly.

The prince snapped up and he and Logan moved to stand behind Patton at his desk. Logan looked down to see a beautiful botanical drawing a small, pink flower. Logan found it hard to believe something so small and beautiful could do so much harm.

“The timeframe of symptoms and how they've progressed matches the description. It all fits, down to the description of the serum.”

“What is it called?”

“Meadow saffron. The effects begin two to five hours to start. The first effects are burning mouth and throat, fever, stomach cramps and uh… digestion issues.”

Logan chuckled.

“Hush, you.” Roman said sternly, but he couldn't hide his smile.

“Yes, sir.” Logan smiled back. He took a moment to read through the entry in the book. "I think you're right, Pat. Everything here matches what we know.

“Roman,” Patton said quietly. “If this really is the poison, you were very lucky.”

“What do you mean Pat?” Roman asked, looking down at the book.

“Meadow saffron can start to cause organ failure only twenty-four hours after contact. It must have been nearly twenty hours before Logan got to you. You really could have died.” He whispered, tears welling up in his eyes.

“It’s okay, Pat. You don’t need to worry. I'm fine now. I had my own personal hero.” Roman said, resting his hand on Patton’s shoulder as he looked over at Logan with a grateful smile.

“You're right.” Patton spun around in his chair and pulled Logan into a hug. Logan flinched so hard he nearly fell backward but Patton already had his arms around him, holding him steady. “Thanks for saving Roman, Lo.”

Logan froze as Patton's arms wrapped around his waist. Awkwardly rigid, he looked to Roman for assistance, but the prince merely smiled at him. Logan’s heart fluttered with pride. He relaxed and hugged Patton back. “Of course, Pat. I had to save him. Where would any of us be without our fearless leader?”

Patton finally released him from his grip, beaming up at him. “You did a good thing, kiddo. I'm so proud of you.”

“‘Kiddo’ is not really an apt description, seeing as I’m not a child.” Logan said, confused.

“Don't fight it, Lo. He's got a lot of love to give.” Roman said, smirking at him. He paused for a moment before reluctantly speaking again. “Hey, listen. If we're sure this is the poison, I need to be getting back to my own responsibilities. Plus, Logan's work is only beginning. We still need to identify the poison’s source and where it's being imported to in the kingdom.”

Patton bounced with excitement. “At least part of that is already solved. This book says that it only grows in one place in the world. It grows in the wettest parts of the Northern Islands.”

Logan leaned in, reading over Patton’s shoulder. “That significantly narrows down my search. Thank you for your assistance, Patton.”

Patton nodded happily.

Logan thought for a second. He gestured to the book with the entry for meadow saffron. “Can I borrow this?”

“Of course, you can. I'm so glad Roman asked me for help.” Patton beamed at him. “And I'm so glad I got the chance to meet you.”

“It was my pleasure, Patton. Thank you…for being so accepting of me. Other people’s reactions have been unwelcoming. I really appreciate you giving me a chance.”

Patton perked up, grinning over at Logan. “You’re welcome, Logan. You’re a good person. I can tell.”

Logan's confidence wavered. He quickly corrected his expression, hoping not to worry his new friends.

A flash of nervousness washed across Logan as he noticed Patton watching him skeptically. His face flushed, uncomfortably, but Patton simply grinned at him. Patton moved forward again and pulled Logan into another hug. This time, Logan didn't hesitate to hug him back, finally acclimating to Patton's fondness for personal contact. He whispered in Logan's ear. “It's okay if you don't believe it yet, kiddo. It'll get easier.”

“Thanks, Pat." Logan whispered back.

Patton turned to give Roman a hug. “I'm so glad you’re okay, Ro.”

“Me too, buddy. Promise me you won’t stress about this, okay?”

“Okay, I promise I'll try not to think about it too much and I'll see both of soon, okay?”

“Of course, Pat.” Roman conceded.

“Thank you, Patton.” Logan said, gratefully

You Belong With Me Taglist: @cas-is-a-hunter @insert-cool-blogname@ironwoman359 @i-know-im-smart @imbadatnames8d @dwbh888

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #thomas sanders #ts #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #logince #platonic royality #You Belong With Me #villain writes

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noxycakes · 3 years

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I DID it!! I took the plunge!

So, I finally decided I wanted to dip my toes into creating my own custom content. So after watching tons of videos(illogical sims,Brownflower, Paszerine and Giuliabuilds) and reading tons of things online and talking to people. After much procrastinating and talking myself out of it because it looked WAY to hard and WAY to complicated. I just decided to follow along what I learned in doing something simple. Recolours. Everyone had said Recolours are the way to go for beginners. So that’s what I wanted to try.

Once I did the first thing...I was amazed at how simple and easy it really was. I had no idea how easy recolours were, I even decided to push the limits a bit on what I could achieve with it. Like as long as something looked similar to the thing you were recolouring, you could change it completely. Like, the type of leaves that are in a flower arrangement. Also there’s A LOT to be said about what you can do to achieve the illusion of a texture to a surface with just a photoshop filter. A rug, can be given the water ripple filter effect , toned down to very light and it can look like the rug has a more plush texture. I really had so much fun once I started doing stuff, but I was recolouring haphazardly , with no rhyme or reason. Then I decided, I wanted to do a “release” a grouping of recolours, like a living room set or something , with a theme to it. So, I decided Easter is the perfect time to make something for. I thought to do, you know..bunnies and eggs and what have you. Quickly I realized, it was going to look dated and really only good for the one occasion, and that’s not very appealing to me and I’m sure not to others either. So I decided Spring! Even though here in the southern hemisphere where I am, it’s Autumn. I loved the idea of the vibrancy and richness of colours that Spring brought.

So! I have created a set of 10 items, recoloured, redesigned , and reconstituted into a living room set or wherever you want to put them really. They are all standalone items in the catalog and everything will come up in the search if you just type in “Noxycakes”. Everything is recoloured from base game items, nothing requires extra meshes or anything like that. But they also only have the single swatch per item..because I haven’t learned that much yet! haha Sorry for the wall of text

So a bit about each of the items.

1. A gorgeous watercolour print of green leaves and sprigs on the armchair. I like it looks crisp and happy.

2. These lamps...I saw some lamps that used this thinly shaved wood as a lampshade, and I loved the effect! These lamps are a recreation of that. They are simple and minimalistic, at nighttime when the light is turned on, wow, beautiful soft warm glow.

3. and 4. Are a couple of my favourites. They feature a New Zealand native bird and loads of floral and greenery on a dark background. I fell in love with it. The two pictures compliment eachother, sitting side by side as a diptych.

5.A recolour of the enigma dresser. I wanted something with a darker shade of emerald than what was available, with the dark top. I love the aged look to it, the chipped and flaked off paint, that exposes the wood.

6. I LOVE this sofa. It’s done in Van Goh’s “Almond Blossom” , the white pillows and white framework really just draw the eye.

7. My golden geometric rug, It looks like it has a soft texture to it. (subtle water ripple effect! yea!) I liked that it was a big design, not to small and overly busy.

8. My coffee table! I guess I’m going for a sort of aged and antique forest vibe overall. I thought there needed to be some metal and glass , so as not to clutter up the overall look to much, glasstop coffee table with hammered copper legs, with a nice dark patina’d look to it.

9. The botanical arrangement from the paranormal pack, has these dark colours, and I wanted to add something that might invoke more of a feel of Spring, so brighter green foliage and vibrant fuscia buds, in a copper wrapped glass vase/jug?

10 last but not least, I love the pictures so much, I wanted to do a mural with the print, so number 10 is the option of a whole glorious wall of the art!

Everything is compiled into a folder for you to download. Just unzip, and drop the folder into your mods folder. then you have a little spot for me on your hard drive and as I learn and create more, you can add to it! yay!

No paywalls, No adblockers, Simfileshare

Download the 10 item set

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liftdaddyla · 4 years

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The Way To Select Your Own Great Home Workout Equipment

A house fitness center is just a compact component of equipment built to enable you to execute lots of exercises in the one channel. These are also referred to as multi-gyms or even multis. All these workstations are intended to squeeze into a spare room, garage or cellar therefore that you can certainly do weight training in your residence.

Finding the best Home Workout Equipment From Lift Daddy

Working Out home since many benefits. In the event you select house could be your ideal place as opposed to your gym for you, another step is to decide liftdaddygymequipment that you need. Before you venture out for the closest store, below are a few points to consider first.

The most-popular, midsize multi-gyms normally include the Subsequent:

Flexible seat for sitting or reclining

Stacked metal weights together with pin selection for load

Pull-down pubs chiefly for your Lat Pulldown back exercise

Press pubs for pulling and pushing, for shoulders, arms, and back

Leg extension system for quadriceps muscles of the thigh

Leg-curl system for exercising the hamstrings in the back of the thigh

Seated cable-row method for back and arms workout.

Types of Set-ups

You've got many possibilities for establishing a home gym, but your choices to weight training mostly fall into the classes below. Lift Daddy exercise equipment including treadmills, rowers, and stationary bicycles are often options; but for the time being, I will concentrate on weight training equipment.

Mixtures of mobile gear

Dumb-bells, bench, balls, steps, rings, matsand ab employees etc.. Nothing overly complicated here, only plain but pliable gear. The Reebok Weight Bench with contained dumbbell set is a very favorite rookie.

Free weight channels

Adjustable benches, power stands for holding barbells, dumbbells, barbells, and plates (spherical weights). Mostly movable equipment for longer high quality use.

Multi-gyms based on composite or steel strings and bands. The bending ring creates the resistance.

Total Fitness concept

This idea employs an adjustable height, inclined bench and sliding chair stage which works by using your body weight to improve resistance.

Multi-gyms based on piled weights

This popular configuration uses a cable and pulley mechanism with piled weights. Just move the foliage to decide on the fat. LiftDaddy offer you best gym equipment that's necessary for you personally.

Multi gyms using supply for free weight plates

The curved weights have been manually fitted to the barbell extensions. Case in Point: Powertec Workbench.

Smith Device multi-purpose combinations

The normal Smith device uses a mechanism that constrains the bar in one perpendicular airplane, unlike free-weight benches and stands. These dwelling fitness center multi add extra attachments to reach a flexible work station.

With this particular gym, you're going to be in a position to aim every portion of your body from your arms to your chest for your legs. It also comes with a burden stack lock to make certain your plates are securely secured.

#Lift Daddy #liftdaddy #gym #exercise

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a-king-alone · 4 years

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Ghostface (DBD) x gender neutral reader pt.2 | pt. 1

Your eyes flutter open, blurry dark vision greeting you. The branches far above you begin to come into focus. Crackling noise of fire eating wood fills you with a bit of the comfort of warmness and safety. Your face feels far warmer, but you knew it was because of a different reason.

As you sit up slowly, you see your fellow survivors are sitting around the source of light, trying to keep the dull warmth to stay in their bones. They can tell something is off with you, your prolonged silence and avoidant behavior was unusual.

They ask if you're feeling alright, you coin some bull about feeling overly guilty for messing up, that you felt horrible over the fact that it was a critical moment, but you had failed, resulting in your teammates deaths. It wasn't completely untrue, it just wasn't ate away at you.

Of course they went on, attempting to reassure you that fault didn't fall solely on your shoulders. Sometimes there were trials that killers dominated and there wasn't much anyone would be able to do once it reached that point. You said, yeah, sure, somehow irritated by the concern they offered, but it was because of your dirty little secret.

You felt like you didn't deserve their concern.

You breathe in deeply, turning away from the fire toward the thick of the woods. "Going for a walk," you said tiredly. No one questioned you, only their worried stares watching your back as it disappeared behind the foliage.

As you aimlessly wander, your mind keeps replaying your encounter with Ghostface, how he maliciously stabbed you and then held you captive in his lap as you were dying. You still felt it, the way his lips and tongue were all over you, every detail back to back inside of your brain. It played out behind your eyelids when you tried to close them.

Bile welled under your tongue, a tightness in your throat as you felt you were going to vomit when you remembered words he had said to you. Your throat closed itself for a moment, causing you to gag profusely into a series of dry heaves for a few seconds behind a tree before you could catch your breath.

You wiped your mouth weakly. Just... Why did he have to look so... normal? If he were another grotesque creature, you could deal with it. But he wasn't. He was hot. Stupidly hot. Hotter than anyone you'd ever seen in your life, not that you could remember much from your past, but much more attractive than any of the survivors. The overwhelming shame you felt with your shallow perception seemed like it might consume you entirely.

You wanted to sleep for days, to let it all fade away, to escape from not only this horrible realm you loathed being trapped in, but from your memories that plagued you nonstop. As you returned to the campfire, your friends noticed you and smiled, but they left you alone and gave you space. You were thankful for that.

You eased yourself onto the ground, laying on your side and adjusting yourself until you found a sufficiently comfortable position. Your heavy lids drooped closed. Every time his face manifested, you tried really hard to think of anything else. But there was nothing else to think about.

Even in your dream, his image cursed your nonsensical visions. Cornering you, forcing his kiss on you, his hands all over you. You wake suddenly as you shot upright. Your hands covered your face with your frustration, how you wished so desperately that it'd go away.

But it doesn't.

You feel as if you -belong- to him and you -don't-. You belong to yourself and only yourself, no one else. Certainly not some pushy delusional psycho. A pushy delusional psycho with eyes for you. And apparently, for you only.

And every moment between, you felt nothing but dread. You dreaded seeing him again, him finding you again. What would he do? You didn't want to think about it. Would it be worse?... Your gut said yes.

He had no problem with forcibly holding you down and kissing you. Kissing was something long forgotten about in a world like this, for you. And you hated how your body had reacted to it against your will, because that's a normal thing that happens when you're stimulated after a long period of time of stagnancy. You hated that you admitted to yourself that it felt really, really good, to receive that kind of attention.

You felt utterly disgusted with yourself. You actually preferred it when he did nothing else but used you as a catalyst for his ugly sadistic desires, not this. Not this creepy obsession and possessiveness.

You couldn't say for sure if his obsession was new or a recent development or something that was there from the beginning. Physical contact wasn't something experienced here, in the Entity's world, as far as you knew. At least, not for you. It was scary and you hated it being forced upon you, even if you kinda shamefully liked it.

The only thing that was ever on your mind was trying to survive death and escape immense suffering. To find some way out. Not finding a fucking boyfriend. Who in their right mind would ever think of something as stupid as that in a place like this?

You were well aware that some survivors did find that type of comfort in each other. But you didn't participate. You found it to be a liability, favoring someone over everyone else over measly physical touch, therefore, making mistakes when the one you enjoy becomes the item of torment for a killer. You'd seen it happen.

But you didn't blame them, nor did you look down on them. That was just your own personal opinion on the matter. Survivors only had each other for comfort. It was natural that something may bloom into something further. Everyone respected each others privacy and never meddled. Consenting adults could do as they wished. If weird relationship problems arose, you ignored it and let them handle it.

You just stayed out of it. People were complicated and the last thing you needed were more complications. But you couldn't deny your envy that they were brave enough to be vulnerable.

All you wanted to do was forget everything. To maybe actually die next time and not return.

You found your next trials to be ultimately relieving, even when you were killed. Each time you were summoned, you were scared out of your mind until you knew who the killer was. And you breathed a sigh of relief when it wasn't him.

But you couldn't focus.

You were mangled in ways you never thought possible because of your mistakes. You were stabbed to death. Your skull was caved in and your fingers were sliced off as a stolen prize. A horrid creature devoured the entire upper half of your body, leaving the rest to decay. But you didn't care. The pain was nothing new. You didn't mind if you died over and over and over again, as long as you never had to see him again, nothing else mattered. You told yourself you could handle it all.

That paranoia never left you. He wanted you to look for him. And you hated that you did, every single time.

Your friends looked at you pitifully whenever you all finally returned to the soft glow of the campfire. They could tell that something was off with you, but they never pushed it. Existing in this place was hard enough sometimes. But they commented that they were glad that you were back in one piece. You could only give a hollow smile. You didn't feel like talking. Being eaten half alive skull first was something you never thought you would prefer, despite how completely terrible of an experience it was.

It wasn't long before you felt the tug of your summoning, pulling you away from where you wished you could stay, to another unknown destination for the same old story with different flavors.

You recognized this place as you looked around you, the tall cement walls enclosed all around you. The Meat Plant, a place where you hadn't been to in such a long time that you struggled to find your way around. You started off alone and wandered as quietly as you could, dropping down through an open hole in the floor down into a dimly lit bathroom in the underground, a generator close to the only entrance.

You put your attention on fixing the machine in front of you, lost to your thoughts because of the stillness and near silence around you aside from your repairs. It felt eerie and a bad feeling sunk into your stomach as you were closer to completion.

A scream from your teammate startles you with a jolt, it was close to your position. You gulped and continued, frantic to get it going. Another horrid cry of pain came muffled further beneath the ground. The basement. The generator lights flashed on in your success, automated doors opening a new path way once rushed with power.

Out of the several lockers, you picked one closest to you and tried to hide inside without making too much noise, feeling no presence and that alone was making your fear spike considerably. The nausea surged when a black cloaked individual silently crept through the entryway and your breath caught inside of your throat.

He was slow in his steps as he passed each one, an upbeat tune lightly coming from behind that mask and you prayed you were hallucinating. The knife twirled between his fingers, the edge tapped playfully against some lockers he wasn't looking directly at as he approached nearer to yours.

You try to quell your escalating panic when you heard his his voice come out in a dangerously low tune, "Where are you~?"

You can't breathe, trying to rationalize by telling yourself that he definitely did not see you in this room and he does not know that you're here, at all. You hoped it would stay that way, your legs trembling. And then, in your limited view, you saw him standing there, only the doors between him and you.

A soft whimper catches in your throat. You couldn't think. You didn't know or care if it was audible enough for him to hear it. He was going to find you. He doesn't move at all when one of your teammates crosses the wrong wires, igniting an explosion loudly right up the stairs from you. He's completely still.

And suddenly, he turns and walks away from you, his pursuit now on the possible locations of your team and a shaking breath left you. All you had done was prove to yourself that you weren't prepared for the worst. You didn't even want to leave the locker, on the verge of hyperventilating.

If there was a chance that your presence was still unknown to him, you planned to escape the trial without being seen by him. You felt horrible giving into your cowardice, knowing that your team needed you if they wanted a better chance at success. But you don't want to know what he's going to do to you when he finds you. Because he will. That was the only thing you were certain of.

If he saw you, he would hunt you down.

You open the locker door cautiously, peeking out to get a clear view. It seemed you were alone, so you gathered your courage and went toward the hallway leading toward the basement. You could hear your friend Meg down there, groaning in the searing pain she was in, struggling for her life. You were the closest, you had to rescue her. It wouldn't be right to leave her.

You do your best to remain extremely quiet if not soundless while descending the stairs toward the darkness. When you reach her, you grunt as you free her from the claws of the Entity and she thanks you roughly, coughing from her exhaustion. You tell her to run as far as she can, to find someone to patch up her wounds. She nods, making her escape as you return to another locker, toward the back corner.

You hated the idea of using Meg for bloodtrail bait, but you couldn't handle it. You couldn't face him.

But to your horror, you heard Meg's shrill screams very close by, your hearts pace quickening, more and more. All you could hear was her trying her best to get away as it grew closer. A piercing cry from going right back onto the hook, instantly devoured by the starving Entity. And then silence.

That same upbeat tune is near you as he's whistling it this time. Your arms wrap around yourself in a fruitless attempt to calm your tremoring body. He couldn't possibly...

"I know you're here~"

You hear his voice through the slits of the locker right as the doors burst open, you, frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights. He sharply inhales. Your mind goes blank. All you see is Ghostface standing there, blocking your only exit, and you're completely cornered. He's unnervingly still.

You can only imagine that awful grin beneath the mask.

He closes in on you immediately as you flattened yourself as far back as you can go, but it was no use. His body pressed against you, hearing his hoarse whisper when he invaded your space as his bloody glove caresses against your cheek, leaving a wet red streak from his touch, "What a surprise..."

Your face falls with disgust as you glare at the floor, visibly shaking in your fear, uncertainty and anger. Why won't this creepy fucker just leave you alone? This torment was more suffering on top of the base suffering of this hellish nightmare and you have to put up with being relentlessly harassed by this sicko.

"Mmm, you're trembling~ You want me that badly~?" he sighed lowly with his hands slowly roaming your body freely even as you recoil from it, gritting your teeth at his gross fucking words. It pushed you to your breaking point. With all your strength, you shoved into his chest enough to send him stumbling backward.

Enough room for you to dash past him and make a run for it, but all you hear is him laughing wildly at you. You're halfway up the stairs when your arms get locked to your sides as he grabs you from behind, clutching into you with excessive force when you started to kick and scream.

Gravity becomes your enemy as he threw you back down the staircase, laughing at you as you tumbled painfully until you smacked the flat below on your stomach. You moaned from the impact, feeling aches all over you, wincing from it as you leered to where he loomed above you. At the top of the portal, he's standing there with his head titled down.

"You really think that you can get away from me?"

He didn't sound amused, his tone heavy with the promise of fulfilling his threats if you kept being difficult. It was far worse than the stupid little cheerful act he paraded. Slowly he goes down each step toward you as you tried to get back to your feet, strained because of the pain you felt.

"You can't run. You can't hide," he said calmly, matter-of-fact like, when he reaches you as you managed to stand upright, your hand against the wooden boards to keep yourself steady. You're on the defensive, ready to make a reckless try once again, but his dark tone make you freeze.

"Don't make me hurt you."

You knew that he would. Less of what he'd done recently paled in comparison to the horribly disgusting things he did in the past to you. You didn't want to be on the receiving end of the extent of his full cruelty because he was more than willing, more than capable. And eager. So eager.

His hand rises directly in front of you and you flinch, only for him to softly touch your face. Tears sting your eyes as you glower with contempt.

"You want me to," he rasped as you furiously shake your head to deny it, your eyes wide with your fear of how unpredictable the situation had gotten. Ghostface responds with a drawn out guttural hum before he grabs your hair, yanking the back of your skull when he pushed you against the wall. Pleasured groans rumbled from him in response to your pained cries.

"Dangling yourself in front of me, whimpering for me," he whispered dangerously close, breathing heavy as you struggled against his grip. "Waiting just for me."

You felt utterly sick to your stomach over his detailed delusions, painting the picture perfectly clear for you. How could he possibly mistake you purposefully avoiding him as a ploy to get his attention?! What a fucking lunatic!

His knife is against your throat and you go still, glancing pleadingly with an emotionless mask tilting at you. You'd rather die than to be subject to his games. You hated pain, you hated how much pain you had to constantly endure and pretend that it doesn't affect you, but you'd rather be cut into ribbons. How could it get any worse? He was going to do whatever he wanted whether you liked it or not.

A generator came to life somewhere far away upstairs, but Ghostface doesn't pay any mind to it. You hadn't realized that at least one or two of your teammates could possibly be alive while the killer played around with you unbeknownst to them. You thought he would've gotten rid of them as soon as possible. The clatter of metal hitting the floor jarred you and before you could react, his hands were around your throat, choking off your airway.

You thrashed wildly against him to no avail, you were no match against his strength. Your conscious began fading fast, unable to breathe against the force over your neck. Soon, you were enveloped in darkness.

When you woke sometime later, your head was pounding and you felt dizzy. There was a cloth stuffed into your mouth, covered with tape. You realized your hands and ankles were bound together as you grew more alert. You were inside of a locker again, sitting on the floor of it with your knees upright. That son of a bitch choked you out and tied you up. You were furious, thudding your shoulder against the doors to see if you could open them.

The door swung open to your surprise and you gathered that you were still in the basement, but now there was blood splattered all over every surface, fresh liquids and pieces of meat dripping off of the hooks in the center. It felt so much more dark now as you saw the aftermath of violent demise. Ghostface was crouched in the corner opposite of you, his jaw propped against his palm. His mask was gone. His face was covered in blood.

"That's a good look for you," he said softly, meeting your gaze with that dumb, affectionate smile. Apparently he was in a much better mood.

Your muddled reply was incomprehensible through your gag, but you wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. He merely chuckled at your struggle, rising before he came closer to you. Kneeling down, he cut your bonds with his knife, freeing you. That was unexpected. You took the liberty of ripping the tape too quickly off of your face with a hard gasp as you spit out the balled up fabric.

He looked pleased. A thoughtful look crossed his face before he opened his arms toward you, his fingers gesturing that he wanted you to come to him. You glared as you reeled back to spit at his face. It landed on his cheek, next to his mouth that spread with a grin. The tip of his tongue lapped some of it away with one motion and he beckoned you again.

"No second chances," he warned. He was giving you a silent ultimatum; go to him willingly or submit to his torture. You hesitated. You didn't want him to get psychotic, you wanted to just leave and it appeared that the quickest way to get to that was to play along with him. Again.

Your eyes fall to the ground as you inched toward him, settling against his chest as his arms closed around your shoulders, holding you lightly. His sigh of content grazed your bruised neck and you grimaced.

"You know what I want," Danny murmured into your ear as you tilted your head away from him, but he took it as an invitation to drag his tongue against the length of your exposed flesh. You made an audible 'ugh' and he chuckled.

He leaned back from you just enough to gaze at your unhappy expression, all the while he just smiled faintly while never breaking his gaze away from yours. "Kiss me."

Now you were watching him incredulously, but he just rose his brows as his grin deepened.

There wasn't any other way. You couldn't deny him of his demands because he would draw this out as long as possible. Your distaste and hatred burned inside of you, but you closed the distance between your lips and his, only a peck against them, but his gross smile told you everything you needed to know.

It was that fucking look. You loathed it, the fact that he had an expression of longing, looking so infatuated, desperate for your attention, any little bit of it. It was so hard for you to understand.

He hurt you. Physically, mentally, he damaged you over and over again without remorse, with every opportunity that he got. The memories you had of him apart from the recent all involved various degrees of sadistic torture.

You knew what it was. It was all intentionally thought out, to force you to come to him. He confirmed with his actions that he would use any means necessary.

Danny moved closer to you, invading your space until he was up against you, he couldn't hold himself back anymore. His lips were against your ear, whispering sweet nothings that a lover might say, disgustingly sweet words that you felt were more like poison, saying how much he dreamed of you calling his name every time you were apart. Moaning it. Screaming it.

Those hands eventually roamed over parts of your body that were sensitive to the touch, places that were long forgot. It stirred some kind of feelings within, but you tried to swallow them, to not show too much reaction to anything. You wanted to hate it. A part of you did, swelling into tears that poured from your eyes, a soft sob escaping from your tired grasp. You were tired of holding on. You were so tired of it all.

And he shushed you, gently wiping your tears away when he pulled back enough to do so. You hated that he looked so concerned for you when it was his diabolical plot that lead you both here.

"Please don't cry," he breathed, but it only made the downpour escalate in your cascade of horrible emotions. He continued to catch your tears onto his gloves with a gentle smile. "I need you."

All you can do is stare at him, at his face, the perfect portrait of an ideally beautiful person. A twisted perverted psychopath. That face of yearning for your touch, for you kiss. You could tell. The corners of his mouth rose just slightly as he leaned closer toward you, glancing from your eyes to your lips, eager to claim his prize but visibly forcing himself to go slow, to enjoy every single second of it.

His breath shook as his lips met yours, only brushing against them. He wants you so badly and you can feel it, his excitement for a moment he had waited so long for. His lips drew back barely an inch before you murmured, "Why me..?"

And he smiled with a huff, those dark eyes piercing into yours. No semblance of light reflected there. "I thought I told you that you were mine."

That didn't answer your question.

His lips captured yours again, more fervently although restrained, grasping your body tightly as a gloved hand found its way into your hair, pressing you into him harder. A sharp, sudden pain makes you gasp. He had bit into your lip, not with a lot of pressure, but your reaction appeared to rile him up even more, moaning unabashedly into you. Even the slightest of noise that you made seemed to electrify the blood in his veins.

You found yourself forcing yourself to get lost in your own head to ignore any pleasurable sensation while his needy tongue filled your mouth. You felt like you might have understood why he never molested you or at least you had a theory. He could have. He definitely could have sexually overpowered you long ago, but he never did. You guessed based on what you has observed that maybe he had an overwhelming desire for you to be the one to initiate it. And you knew he liked to have things his way.

Your arms hesitantly returned his embrace as your arms slithered around his torso, lightly pushing your body against his despite the nausea from touching the blood clinging to him. You felt him tremor with a slow groan reverberating deeply from his throat. You now knew of two things that made the Ghostface weak to you. He made it easy to see how badly he ached for you.

His kiss became rough against you, pushing into you until you were on your back in the pool of guts and blood all along the floor as he hovered above you. He broke away only to look down on you with his lustful gaze. You knew what he wanted.

You decided in the heat of the moment to indulged him, breathing his name just to see what his potential reaction might be out of your morbid curiosity but you regretted it as soon as it left you.

You failed to realize until it was a second too late to take it back that implying that you might want him of your own volition would become your biggest mistake. You had solidified his fantasy into his reality. The way you had said it, the tint of blood rushed in your cheeks, your voice low and hushed, showing just the very slightest of acceptance. In that moment, you had appeared as if you visibly wanted him right in front of his face.

And Danny was laughing. Short, breathy huffs kept leaving him, seemingly torn between confused but utterly overjoyed.

"I knew it," he uttered breathlessly and in the overwhelming horror that devoured you as your soul turned into an ouroboros swallowing its own tail, you couldn't understand what he meant for a split second.

"You love me."

His tone sounded almost hysterical, too overly excited even in just a whisper. Somehow his grin appeared entirely evil to you, euphoric and malignant.

It all came rushing back to you. Every instance. One single moment was all it took, because no matter how much you protested, no matter how much you rejected him, in his mind, he had only one thought and one thought alone. You -did- want him. And he only needed one thing to make it real. Anything that could be interpreted as a signal from you. In his perfect fantasy, he wanted you to be the one aching for him, to be the one craving his touch, begging for more, begging for him.

And you gave him a taste.

It felt time stopped around you and you were watching yourself from far away, watching yourself succumb to your permanent psycho boyfriend. You fucked up. Now he would never leave you alone. Never. He would never stop coming after you.

You were his world and he intended on making himself yours.

"Th.. That's not..." you began, but fell short as he leaned closer toward you.

"Not what?"

For some reason, fear constricted you. He was looking down at you, expecting an answer, but the one you wanted to give was stuck in your throat.

"Not true?"

He was smiling, but it looked wrong. You blinked rapidly, unsure of what to do or even say. So you closed your eyes tightly, pulling him by his neck into a kiss and it took all of two seconds for him to melt into you with a gratified hum. He really was easy...

It couldn't get any worse, you thought. Surely there was nothing you could do now to make it worse. But then he's shrugging himself out of his leather as you're frozen still as your face flooded red. His upper body is bare for you, lithe but muscular, which was nice to look at but you only had a strange thought that it looked weird how he wasn't caked in blood.

"I love it when you can't take your eyes off of me~" he purred with a low groan to your chagrin as you'd been staring pretty hard, your eyes casting to the side.

He's on his knees, straddled over your middle, bare fingers hovering over your lips before he pushed them between. Noises escaped you when he shoved his fingers further inside, filling around your tongue and gagging you slightly.

His other hand produced that familiar digital camera, which you recognized immediately and felt your fury simmering at the sight of it, but you didn't want to put up a fight anymore. He snapped memories of his fingers roaming over your tongue as the flash made stars float around your vision. You heard him making soft comments to himself about the details of certain ones, marked as favorites.

They were finally withdrawn once he was satisfied, only to be replaced with his thumb running over your bottom lip. You watch as he brings that hand to his own lips, licking you off of his fingers with a brief but a jubilated breathy laugh.

"You don't know how long I've waited," he sighed with bliss, bending closer to you to show you the photographs he had taken, pressing a button for one to go to the next before your eyes.

The slides went past the recent ones he had just taken, showing older photographs. You recognized each one, because you were the subject in every one that passed to the next. Images of your body, mangled and brutalized, your bloody meat, you tied up in uncomfortable positions, your crying face, your chest lined with several stab wounds, selfies with only your dead body, kissing your corpses lips.

And he didn't stop. He studied every shocked emotion that crossed your face with a criminal grin as you saw all of these various pictures that he had taken, many you couldn't even remember because they were just pictures of you doing random things in trials long before you were subjected to his torture rituals. It wasn't even close to a third of the way through the gallery.

What exactly did he meant by "how long he waited"? He pulled the camera away, smiling down at it lovingly before placing it safely on top of his bundle of meat soaked leather.

"How... long..?" you managed to utter out half of your thought, your mouth and throat dried in fear of the answer he may or may not give. Drawing his attention onto you, his elbows propped his body just above yours as he titled his head closer to your face to brush his lips over your own. Yours quiver.

"So, so long..." he whispered against you. "And now, you're finally all mine."

Horrifying. Terrifying. These were the only words that could come close to describing the intense trepidation and horror violently swirling within your mind coming to the realization that Danny was a truly insanely sadistic stalker, an obsessive mentally deranged freak, that was, for some reason, madly and hopelessly in love with you. So much so that he followed you around long before you even knew of his existence.

And his love was cruel, vicious and savage. He told you that you would learn to love the pain. Yet he was more than capable of being gentle, being tender, when he really, really missed you.

The new photographs in his private collection detailed that night, his favorite night, down in the Meat Plant basement, zoomed in shots of his hand around your throat to force your eyes to the camera lens when he was filling you, your open lips caught in a scream when his thrusts were erratic and violent, blurring the image. Your meshed bodies covered in sweat and blood. He wanted to keep every moment, hundreds of new additions that he'd look at when he was far away from you.

And he'd smile in his wait for the next time he could have you.

#ghostface x reader #dead by daylight #x reader #pt2

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firelight-tales-of-exandria · 6 years

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Firelight Tales of Exandria, Ch.7 - “Tiny Friends”

Thank you all for coming, and let’s tell some stories…

“When we last left the party, they had squared their debts and were embarking on an investigation of the strange sickness growing within the Bramblewood. Unfortunately, before they could question any of the local clergy about the cleansing of diseases, they discovered that the local Lumberjack’s Guild had been viciously attacked during their latest excursion into the deepest parts of the forest.

An angry mob had formed and marched on the Freeman’s Lodge, where the malcontent of the lumberjacks, farmers, and various other citizens had given rise to talk of direct action against their mounting troubles, and even whispers of a coup against the Margrave himself. Due to some sly choices by members of the party, such talk was undermined just in time as Margrave Brandon Zimmerset arrived to address the grievances of the assembly personally. In none so gentle terms, the Margrave reassured the populace of his determination and posted a bounty of 1000 gold pieces to any individual or group that could end the rising corruption in the Bramblewood, sparking a rush of adventurers to head out into the dark forest.”

Nakiya and Song grab a copy of the official bounty contract from the clerks at the Freeman’s Lodge. Unfortunately, this contract was far more ponderous and complicated than their previous job, with three pages of fine print crammed onto a single sheet.

Traveling back to the Temple Ward, and the Temple of the Platinum Dragon, the party meets back up with Leaf, who has been busy ministering to the wounded lumberjacks.

The family of one of the lumberjacks comes to see him, and his daughter takes a shine to the firbolg, following them from patient to patient.

Cezika examines the Margrave’s bounty and eases the party’s concerns by explaining that most of the fine print is bureaucratic nonsense, with two exceptions: those seeking to claim the bounty must provide physical evidence, and claimants must submit to a one week investigation to verify the corruption has been eliminated.

The party discusses the best course of action, deciding to try and meet up with Buddy despite not knowing if he will show at the meeting place.

The lumberjack whose family had visited warns Leaf that they shouldn’t go into the deep parts of the forest. He says that a circle of druids, known as the Green Men, have long been stymieing the efforts of the lumberjacks, hindering their advance into the woods. He had never known the Green Men to be overly violent before, but times may have changed.

When Leaf asks the lumberjack where his family lives, and he regrettably informs them that they may not have enough money to keep their home and may have to find new employment, the firbolg empties their pockets of gold to help. At first refusing to accept such a generous offer, the lumberjack relents and his child, Emma (the one who made friends earlier), gives Leaf her doll, Sally.

Emma: *hugs Leaf’s fuzzy head* “Tank you, beao fwiend!”

Players: *explode in sobbing*

As the party begins to head out, Song notices a despondent Zeal nearby, decompressing from the rigors of healing so many wounded. She asks Song if he knew how Dren, the head priest, can deal with so much pain and suffering and still put on a brave front; how he can bear the overwhelming feeling of powerlessness in the face of such misery and not surrender to his anger. Song tells her that a person just has to learn to live with the things they cannot change and do all they can to change what is in their power.

Zeal has an intimate, vulnerable moment with Song, and as he kisses her cheek Shadow appears and kisses Zeal’s other cheek.

Shadow: “I am sorry. Was that a courtship ritual?”

The party heads to the crossroads west of the city to find several groups of adventurers, mercenaries, and merchants setting up a staging area and makeshift market.

Nellywicke is there as well, hoping to offload some of her various knickknacks and back-stock. She sells the party some healing potions, a smattering of survival gear, and an instant-setup & collapsible multi-room canvas tent featuring her latest invention: interlocking metal teeth sewn into the seams of the tent, letting one secure its entrances and make the internal space customizable.

Song: “I like the sound it makes.”

Nellywicke: “Me too, isn’t it fun?”

Song: “Yeah, it is. You know what you should call it? A “vhuipper”!

With no sign of Buddy, Nakiya and Shadow lead the party into the forest, searching for some sign of the corruption. Eventually they begin to encounter parts of the wood where the trees are growing gnarled and the pervasive scent of autumn decay is starkly out-of-place with the summer season.

The party, sneaking through the foliage, comes upon the aftermath of a battle between some forest-dwellers and a pair of would-be assassins. Nakiya makes ready for battle, but a misplaced step by Leaf signals the Green Men to their presence so the party attempts diplomacy first.

Song can somehow communicate with them despite not understanding their foreign druidic language. Finding some common ground with Sylvan, Song, Leaf, and Ladryssa discover that the Green Men’s long-standing feud with the lumberjacks has now made them a target in the city’s attempt to root out the corruption of the Bramblewood.

One of the Green Men attempts to give Ladryssa a rudimentary education in the “Great Cycle” and how truly insidious the growing sickness of the forest is: not only threatening the safety and future of Westruun but ceasing the very cycle of life, death, and renewal nature depends on.

Despite his warnings, one of the Green Men agrees to take the party into the darkest part of the woods, near the base of Gatshadow, where the sickness appears to have originated. Sadly, the Green Man is crushed by an animated tree and the party is beset by twig blights.

Thwarting the attack by the very forest itself, the party tries to stop Ladryssa from hastily scaling the forest path up towards Gatshadow. In her moment of hesitation, Ladryssa is alerted to the presence of a trapped and wounded pseudodragon she narrowly missed in her attack on the animated tree. She and Leaf begin nursing the creature, which seems to have adopted the party, back to health.

As the group rests before pressing onward, Ladryssa spots the ephemeral form of a beautiful green woman striding through the dark wood. Ladryssa is suddenly struck by the dreamlike memory of being frightened by this woman and her sisters, chilling her to her core.

#firelight tales of exandria #dungeons and dragons #animated tree #twig blight #pseudodragon #campaign journal #druids

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bubblesthemonsterartist · 6 years

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Noble Lines, Chapter 15

*Secret Santa swings across the Atlantic and drops a present down your chimney* IT’S CHRISTMAS WHERE YOU LIVE. GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME!

Merry Christmas @septhi-draw!

Chapters 1-14

It’s a fortnight’s travel from Wistal to Seiran, provided there are no complications. And fortunately, there is not. Oak gives way to pines, frost to thickening snow. At every village and inn they take shelter at, the manners shift. The polite deference in the South shifts to overly friendly welcomes the further north they go. The food becomes thicker. The beds, harder.

It feels – almost – like he’s heading home.

When the tree line ends, giving way to a flat blanket of rolling white, they stop, breathing in a great inhale of icy air.

“Finally,” Zen sighs, rolling his neck. “I don’t think I want to see a horse for at least a week.”

“Is that Seiran Castle?” Mitsuhide inquires with a tilt of the head. Surely, it was a greater house than he would ever have, but it seemed… not enough. “I would have thought such an old name would be housed in a more—”

“Ostentatious setting?” Zen supplies, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “Seiran didn’t become the oldest name in the kingdom by showing off.”

Mitsuhide blinks at him.

Zen smiles sadly, tapping the side of his horse to urge them both towards the conclusion of this journey. “I heard the household went under great hardship for the sake of my family after my father’s death. If it weren’t for this… humble presentation, I doubt it would still be standing.”

Mitsuhide looks up at the towering gray stone and spires. “Is that why Lady Kiki is the only Clariness noble still listed as a potential future wife?”

Zen hums. “Perhaps,” he admits after a time. “But thankfully, Kiki wants nothing of it. We’re just a way to keep marriage meetings to a minimum anymore.”

Mitsuhide glances at the Prince, concerned.

“Can you have the horses stabled when we arrive?” Zen asks with a smile that does not meet his eyes. “I would like to speak with Lord Seiran in private for a moment.”

Mitsuhide’s concern only intensifies. “Of course.”

~ ~ ~

The stables are heated here, burners bright at every corner and his face flushes at the sudden rush of warmth from the second he passes through their doors.

“Ahhhh,” he sighs, kicking the ice off of his boots as he looks around for a groom.

A blonde head pops out from one of the stables, a deep frown worrying their brow, and Mitsuhide smiles.

“Squire!” he calls in greeting, dusting the snow off of his hair. “Can you take our horses?”

Large eyes round in surprise and Mitsuhide laughs when the boys mouth doesn’t seem to know how to answer the question. He leans in, looking around them conspiratorially. “Don’t tell anyone else,” he whispers dramatically. “But the lipizzan is the Second Prince’s favorite mount. I’m trusting you with a very important mission in taking care of him.”

“Um.”

“The thoroughbred is mine,” he continues brightly, sitting up straight and patting the flank of his own horse. “She starts easy, but she’s a good horse. They’ve come a long way. Just make sure they don’t drink too much cold water and get them dry. And if you could give them some extra grain that would be nice, too.”

The boy pinks at the cheek when he hands him their reigns. “Um. Sure?”

Mitsuhide brings his hand down on his head, ruffling his hair, and is charmed at the way he ducks his head, pinking more. He remembers how it was at that age. Every new knight that came across his path was a joy.

“We’ll be here for a while,” he informs him cheerily. “Maybe you and I can spare some time in the training yard, providing the Lord can spare you. It’s important business that you do here, after all. Must keep you busy. But I’ll be sure to pass your good deeds on to the Lord of the House.”

“…Great.”

~ ~ ~

In some respect, the out of doors is reflective of the inside of the Seiran manor. In others, it most certainly does not.

The butler leads him through the great doors into the main hall, a cavernous thing which echoes every footstep that clicks against its marbled floors. It has all the refinement of Wistal with its towering paintings documenting Seiran’s heritage and fine sculptures that were certainly more difficult to safely carry over the mountains, but it is as if the forest itself has been brought in from the cold. Bright banners of holly red line the paneled walls and wreaths of evergreens fill the space in between. Trees laden with baubles and fresh candles fill every corner and, ah- even the ceiling has not been spared foliage and décor.

“Lord Seiran,” Zen announces and Mitsuhide’s jaw snaps shut, eyes quickly dragging from the glass dangling from the ceiling like icicles. “This is my retainer, Mitsuhide Roeun.”

Seiran appraises him with a cool once over. “Very good,” he nods. “You’ll have to forgive my daughter for not being here to greet you. She went out riding this morning, but she should be back in time for dinner.”

“I look forward to meeting her, Lord Seiran.”

Zen smiles, appeased. “And Obi?”

Seiran’s face tenses around the eyes. “Unfortunately, he is still taking his meals abed. It will be a while still before he can join us at the main table.”

“Can I see him?” Zen asks gently.

“Of course, Your Highness. Please,” he gestures, “follow me.”

~ ~ ~

They’ve just reached the fourth door on the third floor when Lord Seiran pauses, hand held over the doorknob.

“I must tell you,” he says grimly, his head bowed. “That while my description of Obi’s injuries were brief, they were not understated. He is still very weak.”

Zen takes a deep breath. “I understand.

The door opens from the inside, swinging open to reveal a tiny, but round, woman with fly away gray curls.

“Oh, Your Lordship!” she frets, shifting a bowl filled with bloody cloth to the side. “All of my apologies. I just finished changing his bandages.”

Seiran grimaces. “It’s quite alright.”

His eyes fixate on the bowl as she bobs. It must have been a deep wound to still be seeping enough to leave traces like that.

“Pardon,” she says, slipping past them.

Zen’s eyes follow her, and he looks as pale as his hair. “Is that the infamous Cookie Kiki and Obi speak so highly of?” he asks weakly.

Lord Seiran’s smile is faint but present. “It is. She’s seen three generations of Seirans well fed.” He gives Zen a meaningful look. “With any luck, she’ll see a fourth.”

The blood rushes back to Zen’s face in a flush and he muses his already unruly hair. “Ah…” His eye flash, panicked to Mitsuhide before forcing a grin. “I shouldn’t keep Obi waiting. Come on, Mitsuhide. Let me introduce you to my future messenger.”

“O- oh!” Mitsuhide stutters, dragged through the half opened door. “Of course!”

Mitsuhide thinks he catches a sparkle of humor in Seiran’s eyes as they sweep past him.

~ ~ ~

The first impression of the boy Zen had not stopped talking about since the first day they met is that he is lucky to be alive.

The boy laid out beneath the blankets is all lank, sweaty and sickly pale beneath a skin tone not native to Clariness soil. From the look of him, by all rights he should be unconscious, but he is panting, floundering under the weight of his covers, hands braced against the mattress as he struggles to push himself up to sitting.

“Your-”

“Obi,” Zen crosses the room quickly, placing a staying hand on his shoulder. “Don’t get up.”

Strange, cat like eyes stare up at Zen and he reluctantly lowers himself back down to the pillow. “Your Highness,” he greets, his eyes folding shut in embarrassment.

“None of that,” Zen says, pulling up a chair. “And how many times have I told you to use my name?”

Obi smiles faintly, his lips so pale he can see the blue of his blood. “At least once more, Your Highness.”

Zen laughs, patting a lump at the edge of the bed where the boys hand must be. “You scared me, you know? Getting yourself hurt like that. I had to run clear across the country because I thought ‘If Obi of all people can’t make it to Wistal, he has to be on his deathbed.’”

Obi huffs a laugh. “Not quite.”

Zen’s voice gentles. “I am glad of that.”

Obi ducks his head, eyes peeking back open and a smile bordering on shy tugging at his lips.

“What are you doing, getting yourself involved with the business end of the sword like that?” Zen admonishes. “Don’t you know I need you above ground?”

“I’m fine,” Obi replies. “Just a little scrape, is all.”

“I heard you took the blade to your chest,” Mitsuhide says, drawing both of their attention. “That’s not a small thing.”

Obi opens his eyes wider, wary. “It really is nothing.”

Zen smiles at Obi, and reaches with his free hand to grab Mitsuhide’s forearm. “Obi, this is my man, Mitsuhide. You and Kiki will be working together when you are better and can make it to Wistal.”

“Ah,” Obi nods, clearing his throat. “Hi.”

Mitsuhide grins, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Can we see?”

Obi blinks. “See?”

“Well, I guess you can’t take off your bandages yet,” he concedes. “But it’s tradition to show off your scars!”

The first sign the boy still has blood in him rises to his cheeks. “Um.”

“Here,” Mitsuhide says, tugging his shirt over his head. “I’ll show you mine.”

When clothes clears his vision, Obi is staring at him with wide eyes; Zen at his side, slack jawed.

“This one,” Mitsuhide begins, pointing to an ugly gash along his side, “I took at a tourney. It was a dirty trick, but I still won the bought.”

The light behind the boy’s eye shines. “It looks nasty. What happened to the other guy?”

Mitsuhide grins. “Disqualified after the fact.”

“And that one?”

Mitsuhide scrunches his neck, looking down at his chest. “Ah! This one,” he says, pointing at the rough line that crosses his collarbone, “was in pursuit of a thief. They threw a dagger at me and got a lucky shot in.”

“I am good with throwing daggers,” Obi offers, before backpedaling. “I- I mean-”

“Really? That’s a great skill! I never could get the hang of it myself.” He pulls back on his shirt. “You’ll have to show me when you’re feeling better. Maybe you could teach me something that they couldn’t in Sereg.”

Obi positively glows, and he manages to wink at him. “Only if you can keep up.”

Mitsuhide chokes back a laugh. Zen wasn’t exaggerating about this part of his personality at all.

“Now yours,” he asks with a tilt of the chin. “Where did the sword leave its mark?”

The good humor melts from the boy’s face and Obi grimaces. “You’ll have to help me with the bedding,” he says.

Mitsuhide nods, rolling the covers down just enough to reveal the bands of fresh cloth wound across his torso. Even so recently changed, there are still light pink marks against the white. Mitsuhide’s lips draw into a thin line.

“It goes from here,” Obi reaches up, touching where his clavicle must be and draws a straight line across his front to his ribcage on the opposite side. “To here.”

So it was as he thought. Whatever happened was no mere accident.

But now was not the time to be asking these sorts of questions.

“Wow!” he leans back, impressed. “You’re like a warrior for living through that! Mine aren’t nearly as impressive as yours.”

“Ah,” Obi turns his head, looking out the window. “There’s no way to tell. Might not even leave a mark by the time it heals.”

“Well,” Zen interrupts, looking positively ill. “When it’s healed up, you’ll have to share.”

“Do you have scars, Your Highness?” Obi rolls his head across the pillow to give the Prince a weak grin.

Zen sputters. “Of course not!”

“Now, now,” Obi’s smile grows just a bit, but his breath is short. He’s overdoing it. “Don’t be shy. You should share with the rest of the class.”

Zen makes a frustrated noise. “You’re just as outrageous as ever!”

“I just wanted to make sure you knew I didn’t forget you,” Obi laughs, eyes fluttering as he sinks back against the pillows.

A soft knock at the door pulls their attention.

“Pardon me, Your Highness; Good Sir,” the woman from before nods. Her aprons have changed and are now spotless white. “Dinner is served in the main hall.”

Zen nods. “Rest, Obi,” he says, rising from his chair. “I’ll come and visit again tomorrow.”

Obi licks his lips, eyes opening again with some effort. “Have you-” his eyes dart towards him, unsure. “Have you seen Kiki yet?”

Zen pauses, looks at Mitsuhide and then back down to Obi. “No, not yet,” he says slowly. “Is everything alright?”

“I-” Obi’s face darkens. “Yes. Everything is alright. I just- I just wanted to know if she was okay. I haven’t seen her… since.”

Zen frowns. “I’m sure she just doesn’t want to tire you,” he comforts. “She has to be missing you terribly.”

Mitsuhide has never seen one so young look so old. “I wonder…”

~ ~ ~

“You didn’t tell him,” Mitsuhide says quietly when the Cook has rolled her food cart into Obi’s room and closed the door behind her.

Zen grimaces, cape fluttering as he turns on his heel and leads them back to the stairwell. “It’s not a good time,” he says, glancing around to make sure they’re alone. “I want to give him time to heal. It would be too much of a shock to bring it up now.”

Mitsuhide’s face pulls tight. This isn’t fair to any of them. “He needs some time to think it over before giving you an answer.”

“I know.” Zen runs his hand through his hair. “It’s just- This would have been so much simpler if he hadn’t gotten hurt. They would have had time to get to know each other.”

“But he did get hurt,” Mitsuhide reminds him gently. “And she’s running out of time.”

~ ~ ~

His upbringing in Sereg prepared him little for being in the presence of the fairer sex. What women he knew were servants or bride’s to elder knights; women who possessed a core of steel, but little grace. His time in Wistal had rectified that to an extent, but even there he had not met a Lady like the one here.

Lady Kiki is that of a vision, descending the stairs in waves of gossamer indigo that sets off the golden halo of her hair. Every inch of her is fair and lovely and he can see the years of training that kept her steadily as one of the most sought after brides in the kingdom.

Zen and Lord Seiran’s eyes are wide as saucers. It’s amazing that she has this effect on even those who know her well.

Seiran recovers first. “Kiki,” he says. “Darling. You look stunning.”

She places a delicate hand on her father’s outstretched palm. “I thought I would air out one of my dresses. As appropriate to meet our company.”

Lord Seiran’s expression is inordinately pleased and Mitsuhide glances between her and Zen. Kiki greets the Prince with all the deference and poise his station deserves, as much warmth as proper for a Lady of her standing, and Zen-

Well, Zen is watching her with a very odd expression, indeed.

~ ~ ~

If she were not an Earl’s daughter and not on the short list for potential Princess, Mitsuhide would be hard pressed not to court this woman.

“I have always been interested in the Sereg military training, Lord Rouen,” she says, perched delicately over her soup spoon. “Did you train there since childhood?”

“Yes,” he smiles kindly. “I started as a Page there when I was six, and stayed until a year after I received knighthood.”

“That’s impressive,” she commends. “You were made a knight unusually young, were you not?”

Mitsuhide feels his face heat. “Not at all, Lady,” he says with a shake of his head. “There have certainly been ones that were younger.”

“If there have been,” she says, appraising him with a glance as cool as her fathers. “I certainly have not met them.”

Zen clears his throat delicately. “Are you going to join us in the training yard tomorrow? Show ‘Sir Rouen’ how to properly wield a weapon?”

Kiki flinches, silverware nearly tumbling from her fingers. “Oh,” she recovers quickly, face rearranging itself until it is unreadable as Prince Izana’s. “Um. Yes. Of course. That would be… lovely.”

~ ~ ~

Zen sighs dramatically for the third time that morning.

“Did you not sleep well, Zen?” Mitsuhide asks, lifting a halberd from it’s hold amongst the other weapons lining the wall and appraising it’s weight. “I can speak with the butler if there is some issue with your accommodations.”

“No,” Zen says, but his voice malcontent. “No, it’s just- Everyone here seems to be so happy to see you.”

Mitsuhide swallows a smile. “They’re just being polite,” he replies, taking the pole in both hands and giving it one testing swing. “Me being new here and all.”

Zen doesn’t sound convinced. “Do you really think-?”

“Oh!” Mitsuhide perks when a young man enter the training room. “That is the Squire I told you about! Hello!” He waves enthusiastically.

When he glances over at Zen, his face is the perfect picture of horror.

He wonders why.

“I’m so sorry,” Mitsuhide says, turning back to the young man who is staring at him from across the room. “I never did get your name back in the stables.”

“…you’re an idiot.”

The squire lifts his wrist to his mouth to hide a smile.

~ ~ ~

“I thought we would practice archery,” Lady Kiki says much later after much groveling.

Zen makes a disappointed sound, hand already wrapped around a wooden practice sword. “I missed sparring with you, though.”

Her jaw ticks. “I haven’t been too involved with swordplay these days,” she says dryly. “It’s doesn’t hold my interest.”

“Ah, come on Kiki,” Zen presses. “You love swordplay.”

“My temperament is not good for a blade,” she pushes back.

Mitsuhide’s brows furrow.

Zen looks crestfallen. “You’ve been practicing since you were a little kid, though! Beat all the neighboring Lords sons, remember?”

“He didn’t tell you, did he?” she asks the ground.

The final dot makes it’s connection in his brain. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like they’ve done the same in Zen’s.

“Did who tell me what?” he asks.

Kiki’s face crumbles. “Of course he didn’t,” she whispers.

“You don’t-”

“Excuse me for just a moment,” she bobs her head, walking swiftly towards the door.

Zen takes a step to follow her and Mitsuhide catches his hand on his shoulder, holding the Prince back.

“I think I know what’s going on,” he says quietly. “Let me.”

~ ~ ~

He finds her on the stairwell facing the low lying sun. This time of year, the light only peaks over the horizon and its stark light casts her in harsh shadows.

“Did you mean to cut him down?”

She freezes, every muscle in her body becoming a taut wire. “It doesn’t matter what I meant. It’s what I did.”

Mitsuhide pauses, staring at her hunched back. “He misses you, you know.”

Kiki raises her head from her hands and glares. “You don’t even know us.”

Mitsuhide hesitates for only a moment. There was nothing more intimidating than risking the ire of a noble Lady, but this time he had no choice in the matter.

“This is true,” he nods, staring out across the snow blanketing the Seiran Estate. “But it doesn’t take more than eyes to see your absence is making him sicker.”

“Obi would forgive anyone.” Her voice is so quiet. “Even those that don’t deserve it.”

His lips twitch. “I don’t think it’s your business to say who he can and cannot forgive.”

“I almost split him in two!” she snaps.

Mitsuhide looks down at her and her eyes are filled with liquid fire.

It doesn’t suit her.

“With those little arms?” he replies, rolling his shoulders. “I doubt it.”

Her voice drops low. “Excuse me?”

“Maim, sure,” Mitsuhide comments, nodding to himself. “But split in two? I saw him myself and I assure you, Lady, he is very much only one man. You should go see for yourself.”

“I already saw the damage to him when I made it,” she snaps, shooting up to standing and descending the stair towards the frozen hedges and dry fountains of the gardens.

“Kiki,” he calls, watching her. “Zen tells me you’re an excellent swordsman. I would hate it if I never had the chance to see it myself.”

Kiki stops dead, fists so tight at her side the knuckles are drained of blood. He would swear she was one of the garden statues if he hadn’t witnessed her moving so fluidly just a moment ago.

“One of the best,” he continues, staring at the staggering weight resting on her shoulders. “You could slay dragons if we could find one.”

She finally lets go of a little of it. Looking over her shoulder, she gives him a long considering look. “Did he now?”

~ ~ ~

Obi seems to be getting healthier every day and as the life returns to him, the less he looks like a boy and the more he looks like a man.

Too bad he doesn’t act it.

“What spell did you cast on him?” Zen huffs when Obi preens for him saying so.

“No spell,” Mitsuhide grins. “Everyone here is just so nice. Makes me want to be nice, too.”

Zen glowers, expression broken by Obi laugh and he leans forward with a leer. “Don’t worry, Your Highness. You’ll always be my Princess.”

Zen rolls his eyes towards the heavens. “Are you ever going to live that down? We were, what? Ten?”

“Nine. I was twelve. And you’re still prettier than me,” he replies, eyes sparkling.

“Ughhhh.”

“Lay back down before you pull your stitches, Obi.”

All the blood drains from Obi’s face at once. His head snaps towards the door, expression completely wiped from him.

“Kiki-”

She smiles faintly, hovering at the threshold. “I want to get out of here before my father finds someone to marry me off to. Can’t do that if you’re not taking care of yourself.”

Obi’s mouth struggles to make a shape. “I was wooing my Princess, though,” he jokes weakly.

The air is so thick it is suffocating.

“Well!” Zen claps his hands together and looks pointedly at Mitsuhide. “The day grows late and we still have to go riding with Lord Seiran, do we not?”

Mitsuhide blinks at him. “We do? I mean, it’s still early-”

“Yes,” Zen says through grit teeth. “But we have a lot of things to discuss, do we not?”

“Oh. Oh! Right,” Mitsuhide nods, abruptly coming to stand. “Lots of things.”

“A great many,” Zen agrees, pushing his chair closer to the bed. “We’ll likely be hours.”

Obi and Kiki haven’t even looked away from each other.

“See you tonight,” Mitsuhide offers as he and Zen slide past her.

She tears her eyes away from the man still staring in stock silence. “See you then, Sir Rouen.”

#bubbleswrites #ansgiftexchange #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #noble lines #look i thought long and hard about this and thought you might like a substantial chapter (or two :3) the most #merry christmas septhi!#(this au is still your fault! ^_^ )#part 1 of 2

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chasealejandro1996 · 4 years

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Grape Growing Countries Wonderful Diy Ideas

Their location is dependent upon the varieties you want grapes that are intended for wine, AKA, wine grapes.Also, when the vines start to appear, it is imagined, this process easier and fruitful for him.Make sure that these grapes are grown in France?And is there for all these things are even simpler as you identify any so you will be well drained and loam soils.

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Can Grape Grow In Zone 10

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2 Wire Grape Trellis

Properly pruning your grape vines, you want grapes to eat and the big yards out there.When you have your dream if you will need a lot of factors - from choosing the right way of growing grapes for free to prune the shoots that the area surrounding each vine by covering them with 1 to 3 days as needed to grow them on a large trellis usually has seed, a thick seed coat, which keeps the vines from their home country, and made into jelly, vinegar, candy, grape seed extract, seed oil, grape seed breathe to life.This process will drive the air can freely flow from it.When your vines as they are, the more ideal location to grow them in a tree nearby, the plant is dormant and the more developed and delicious they become.If the plants to grow well anywhere in the soil.

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#Grape Growing Countries Wonderful Diy Ideas #Wooden Grape Trellis

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