carpet-bag

Frozen Water Vapor (M)

Originally posted by dazzlingkai

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Summary: The first snowfall of winter. The flurries comfort you in the midst of heartache. You love Chanyeol and Baekhyun, but they’re so happy in their newfound relationship. Baekhyun is so happy with Chanyeol, but he misses your touch on his skin. You would never think of getting in the middle of them, not two of your closest friends. Baekhyun thinks otherwise. (Baekhyun x Reader x Chanyeol)

Warnings:
Polyamory, Rough Sex, Cheating

Word Count: 2,427

Written by: Smutty Jaefairy

A/N: This is a personal fantasy of mines that I formatted into a reader story. I’m such a wet noodle for Baekhyun, I’m sorry I’m like this.

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its-kayden-hawkins  asked:

I've had this question on my mind for a while, but what exactly don't you have in your bag?

“Well.” She then picked up her bag and flipped it upside down; shaking the bag. “You see Dear. I don’t normally keep things in the bag physically unless someone else puts something in it. Then it gets filled with things. It really is a normal bag unless you know how to use it right.”


Then pan over and you see her Mun going over some notes on a separate topic. “Damn it.” She says all frustrated. “I can’t seem to understand how these notes are suppose to function in the order that it says it should go in.”


Aldonza seeing her dilemma, flips her bag around and reaches into her bag.

She then takes out a two books and presents them to her Mun. “Here Dear. These will aid with your research.” Mun shifts her head over. “Oooooo! That will help!”

// @its-kayden-hawkins

a list of nice things

- strawberry lemonade
- soft hands
- naps
- large windows
- cold sunny weather
- quiet beaches
- puppies
- flower shops
- oranges
- ice cubes
- lemon slices
- those eye masks you put in the fridge so they feel cool and refreshing on your face
- backpacks
- little bags
- rugs
- carpeted staircases
- cashmere blankets
- the color red
- the smell of salt water
- pebble beaches
- sea towns
- sofas
- dusty smelling bookshelves
- wood
- stair rails
- house front steps
- local boutiques
- lavender
- green tea
- ladders
- sweater dresses
- loft beds
- duvets
- wooden shelves on walls
- stones
- the smell of pine
- being indoors during a rainstorm
- golden hour
- creaky cabinets
- socks
- old shoes
- the sound grandfather clocks make
- carpeted houses
- throw pillows
- furniture
- pretty china
- record players
- library stamps
- notes
- handwriting
- peppermint
- old photos
- succulents
- sleepovers
- late night conversations
- bed tables
- lamps on bed tables
- bell peppers
- paintings
- clean paintbrushes
- letters
- things that you can hang from the ceiling
- the smell of hotels
- golf fields
- wild flowers
- dresses
- good fitting jeans
- jackets
- knitwear
- libraries
- finding notes in used books
- small roads
- gravel roads
- fences
- shop houses
- bakeries
- well decorated cafes
- french coffee shop music
- light
- roses
- embroidery
- sorbet
- frozen grapes
- raspberries when theyre still a bit sour but almost ripe
- baths
- deer
- whale watching
- blankets
- homeware shops
- sea towns
- cliffs
- hawaii
- eyelashes
- san francisco
- nice hair
- clear skin
- you!!

Great Comet Experience Part Two

I had to split this up because it’s stupidly long. We’re talking like 10k words. You’ll never find a more indepth description anywhere.

Letters:

·       Act two commences with another air siren. I love this song. And got so into it when listing to the recording.

·       Everyone enters the same door which is the only time this happens. Most of them are in their regular costumes. Hélène is back in her black based with green underskirts dress, Mary has on her shapeless frock again. But Marya (while having on the same blouse as usual, and similar patterned skirt has something different. The skirt is one of those that’s really more of a wrap and it’s completely open in the front. She’s got on these tight leather pants (same Marya shoes as always), and wow.

·       Okay so, the company takes their places sitting on the stairs, and facing the audience directly. So I made direct eye contact with Alex Gibson during one show for like a full thirty seconds. And at one point I like raised my eyebrow and he mimicked me and we both just spend a good time smirking at each other. I played it cool, but during another showing when I had eye contact with Grace McLean and she looked at me seductively I’m pretty sure I was close to swooning. Gods, I’m so gay.

·       I never got a letter though and I’m so sad. Because during one point, everyone in the company gives the audience letters, and apparently one of the ensemble members (Heath if I’m not mistaken) always writes a different, innuendo laden letter.

·       Pierre is so set on killing Napoleon. Dude chill.

·       Dolokhov looks so smug when he says he composed the love letter.

·       Also while the company is singing the whole “A love letter” they’re all seated and bopping along so well. Marya takes on a lot of Hélène’s manerisms I’ve noticed. She’s so seductive, and drapes herself across the stairs much like Hélène does. Also her (really long and very leather clad) legs are everywhere.

·       So when Natasha passes her letter off to Hélène to give to Anatole they both look so excited.

·       And the whole audience participation when the letter is passed down the line til the last person gets on stage to give it to Natasha is so cute. Hélène enthusiastically directs it down, and Natasha looks to excited to receive it. During one show, a man didn’t want to get onstage, so the girl in the next row, leapt up and practically flew up stage.

·       So, Mary’s letter to Natasha is so full of affection and love. Mary is so in love with Natasha, and in the books they’re like attached at the hip and kiss and hug each other and go out together. It’s so much better than the tense dislike from before.

·       Side note: while I love the Natasha/Mary pairing, I’m a huge fan of Sonya/Mary because not only is it a nod to Ghost Quartet (where Brittain Ashford and Gelsey Bell play lovers at one point and it’s so adorably dark) but also both these characters need love and affection and this is way better than what actually happens where Sonya is left alone forever.

·       So during the whole “say yes” bit, Anatole gets down on his knee, and asks Natasha like three times, and keeps pulling her closer by her waist (which like, creepy dude), and she looks so confused and conflicted, but in the end gives in.

Sonya & Natasha: (Side note: they really love their ampersands)

·       So Natasha is asleep on the stairs and Sonya enters and snatches the letter. Reading in horror.

·       Lemme just say, Sonya is so much more sassy live than the recording leads you to believe.

·       During the entire song, Sonya is just following Natasha around rolling her eyes, and looking so exasperated by everything Natasha says.

·       Other than what the song suggests, there really aren’t any other actions that you can’t figure out from the words. But Sonya just runs off at the end when Natasha yells at her.

·       So, this is the point Sonya stops looking exasperated and looks just so heartbroken. This is her best friend, and she’s just screamed that she hates her. This is the part you start crying.

Sonya Alone:

·       So wow Brittain Ashford fuck me up. The real and raw emotions are just so mesmerizing. This is the point I wish I was at the final performance because I know this would be the most emotional of them all.

·       She starts off conflicted about what to do. Like, does she let her best friend follow her heart, or does she help?

·       And as the song goes on she gets more and more sure of what she wants to do. Yes, it is on her, and no she will not let Natasha go to ruin. This is her family, her best friend. And Sonya is completely and utterly devoted to her. She’d give up everything to make sure Natasha doesn’t go to ruin.

·       I’ve got a friend like Sonya, and it makes things so much more heartbreaking.

Preparations:

·       Mood whiplash in three, two, one.

·       Anatole enters Pierre’s office circle with a carpet bag and Pierre is dead drunk. I saw Josh Groben such a long time ago, that I just remember Dave’s performance better, but Dave does drunk word slurring so well.

·       He hands Anatole fifty rubles, but Anatole reaches over and snatches the rest of the wad of cash like an ass. Really. Then he goes to the mirror and starts to do his shaving routine.

·       So Dolokhov launches into his patter verse. And it is a bop. When he says Natasha and Sonya’s names they are lit up by spotlights. Hélène enters and hands him a cup of tea before going to Anatole. She also laces up her “Abduction vest” thing.

·       During this song, Dolokhov grabs hold of Anatole and pins him against the railing to try to talk some sense into him. Then follows him around groaning, and glaring. While Anatole is doing his part of the song, Nick Choksi is off-mic screaming “no no no” in such a done voice.

Balaga:

·       So, Balaga begins and everyone bursts onto stage. There are egg shakers and I’ve now got two and I’m so happy. Everyone is dancing, audience included and it’s such a wonderful moment.

·       There’s so much twirling. And everything.

·       Hélène starts out playing the drum on the top layer. She plays so deadpan (imitation of her total girlfriend Marya D. anyone???) and her eyebrows are quirked up in such a haughty way. Then when the beat kicks up, she hands the sticks off to Marya.

·       And Marya is having the time of her life up there. She swings the sticks down on the drum, and waves around, kicking her legs up. It’s great.

·       So Balaga is pretty much everywhere during this. He goes from the main stage to the mezzanine, to the main stage again. And I don’t even know how he gets there so fast.

·       When he does his “and I never ask for rubles” the company roars their love for him, and when they sing “and we like balaga too” they all practically lurch to him. Marya flings her arm at him and points with her drum stick.

·       The whole “woah” parts everyone just gets into position for the real fun. And my favorite part is coming up soon. Also Anatole is doing his twirly routine.

The Abduction:

·       Everyone, (and sometimes they encourage the audience to sing this part too) does the “goodbye my g*psy lovers” part and the word is actually a slur, so I’m conflicted. Dave Malloy wrote a really long explanation for why he did this, and it’s logical, but like slurs. So I sometimes like to replace G*psy with either tipsy or pretty. Sometimes I get so into it I forget though.

·       Okay so everyone raises their glasses (audience members included) and at one point Grace McLean shouts to her section that “I don’t care if your drinking or you’re not. Raise em up!” and it’s the growl again. I’m hooked. Actually though.

·       When Anatole sings goodbye to Matryosha it’s Katrina who passes by with her accordion. We all sway and shake our shakers. It’s the best.

·       Then the chaos begins. And you’ve got to see it to believe it. I notice something new every time. (Though I admit I miss most of it because I’m staring at Marya and Hélène, but can you blame a baby dyke?)

·       Everyone is screaming and dancing all over the place, there’s some organized dancing, like the circle line. Nick Choksi shoves his guitar at an audience member at one point and screams to hold it because “I gotta go dance” and they do the circle thing. I really love that because the joy of everyone is so visible.

·       Then the music gets deliberate, and Alex Gibson and another male ensemble member in the mezzanine have this dance off and they mirror each other and it’s awesome.

·       Then comes the real chaos. The music becomes jerky, and everyone just goes wild. Mary is up in the mezzanine flailing about looking so overjoyed. Sonya is backed into a corner by Pearl Rhein with her bow string as a weapon. Heath Saunders just rips his hair out of its bun and starts swinging it wildly. Pages of War and Peace rain down from the mezzanine. There’s a fist fight between Andrey and an ensemble member (Azudi Onyejekwe).

·       And of course, my favorite moment. The kiss between Marya D. and Hélène. While everyone else is running about chaotically, they just jump each other. It’s basically a contest to see who can smear their lipstick on the other’s face more. During it, Hélène hoists Marya’s leg around her hip (holy shit she’s got such long legs) and they just rut against each other. Hands are groping everywhere it’s the best And during the second to last show (the last one I saw) they were so into the kissing and grinding that they could find a balance, and they couldn’t get Marya’s leg up long enough.

·       Apparently this part of the chaos was entirely Grace and Amber’s idea and they wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I formally thank them for their existence.

·       Then, the end of the chaos comes and everyone just collapses where they stand. Ashley Perez Flanagan is seated on an audience member’s lap, Mary is down for the count. Lauren Zakrin is splayed out on the floor. And Marya and Hélène just cling to each other with lipstick everywhere. Even the orchestra just collapses back into their chairs.

·       During this point, everyone’s panting and dying, and Dave Malloy has to gasp every time before he launches into his “here’s to happiness freedom and life” part. And at that point everyone launches back up with astounding energy. There’s even more dancing and skirt flinging, and really there’s no reason for Marya and Hélène to be so into each other if they’re not actually dating so Marya/Hélène is real fite me!

·       Then balaga is like “let’s get out of here” and they all dash up the steps towards the big doors. At this point, Gelsey, Brittain, and Marya slip out to costume change. And the whole wait sit down bit is so necessary. During the shut the doors part, Balaga is off-mic saying “doors what doors? Oh wow, those are big doors” and it’s so funny.

·       Sitting in banquette seating you can see every cast member. Everyone is panting heavily and look like they’re gonna pass out. Sweat is just everywhere. And it would be gross, but it’s just so impressive. Lucas Steele sits down next to an audience member and slings his arm around them.

·       Then they’re just about to get up and go when Dolokhov is all like wait a fucking minute here. And Balaga groans and is all like what now?

·       But the fur cloak routine is fantastic. So Pearl is wrapped up in it, and I only noticed in the last show I saw that the cloak also has like a gauzy salmon colored part of it in addition to just the fur. But during this part, Dolokhov steals her bow and she plays the fiddle with her fingers, while he plays her. There’s that fiddle symbol thing painted on her stomach, and its such a great detail. She delivers the cloak to Anatole who kisses her (c’mon man not the time!)

·       Then they finally head out. Everyone is so excited and ready. Anatole dashes up the stairs towards the big doors (I got hit by the flapping coat), the maidservant (Gelsey Bell you beast) does this amazing Operaesque line. And the doors open, there’s red colored smoke and everything.

·       But it’s not Natasha. It’s Marya D. and shit’s about to get real. She just glares at Anatole and the audience goes crazy. If looks could kill…

·       So sometimes she starts out with restrained anger during the “you will not enter…” and the growl comes out during “my house, scoundrel” but the last time I saw it she just scream/growls the entire thing and either way I am very turned on and very afraid at the same time.

·       Anatole sprints away with a look of terror on his face, and really that’s the only sensible thing he’s ever done.

In My House:

·       Okay so while the Prologue is my favorite song, this is the best one.

·       So Marya starts off restrained. Scoffing, and smirking with disbelief and rage. When she calls Natasha a hussy, Natasha looks shocked, and Sonya reaches for her from across stage.

·       Then she sings “now you listen to me when I speak to you,” twice the first time is calm, and then she fucking screams it and terrifies everyone.

·       During the line “do you hear what I’m saying or not” she holds out the last word so much longer live and the t ending is so sharp.

·       Sonya just sounds horrified and devastated. Like she wants nothing more than to hug Natasha and never let go.

·       Grace McLean deserves a fucking tony like jesus Christ.

·       Everything is very pantomime, but at one point when Marya calls Anatole a scoundrel and a rat she grabs Natasha’s chin and Natasha shoves her arm away. Marya stares at her arm in shock, before turning away scoffing like a mother when her kid does something really wrong. Like “oh you think you’re going to act like this, think again bitch”

·       But then Natasha screams that they all hate and despise her, and Marya looks so horrified and hurt. She knows she fucked up with how angry she was, and runs over to her. She has to rein in all this anger and shock because it’s definitely not what Natasha needs.

·       She screams “Natasha” with such desperation that my heart just snapped. She tells us what she does to comfort her goddaughter and looks just so horrified and heartbroken.

·       While Natasha sings what she does, Marya is sitting among the tables writing her letter to Pierre. She sends it off with a grandiose gesture.

A Call to Pierre:

·       The servant wakes Pierre from his drunken stupor and Dave Malloy really plays a great drunk.

·       He heads off to the Dimetrievna household, and Marya starts off restrained but quickly grows desperate. She pleaded with him and explains, with such urgency that I felt my anxiety welling up. And all that rage that she tempered down comes back with a vengeance.

·       Holy shit, so this role is usually a very low voice part, with a lot of that glorious growling. But this song has full on high belting and Grace McLean slays it every time. When she screams “Anatole Kuragin” you know that man is a dead man if Marya D. ever gets her hands on him.

·       And when Pierre reveals that Anatole is a married man (gasp! it’s mentioned earlier during the Duel but there’s so much going on that many people miss that moment), Marya is just blown away. During one performance she was like “I fucking knew something was up with this bastard” and during another she was shocked and horrified like “oh shit we are all so fucked”

·       And when she orders Pierre to find Anatole, wow. It’s basically the last thing Marya says, and Grace McLean never fails to go out with a bang.

Find Anatole:

·       The music turns urgent, and Pierre does more running around than he has ever done before. He goes to the club, and the ensemble are in the mezzanine and on the stairs just gossiping. When Pierre assures them nothing is wrong they all look so disappointed. These people love their gossip.

·       So Anatole enters the Bezukhov house stumbling in, and looking completely distraught. Hélène rushes to him, devastated.

·       Back at Marya’s house, Marya and Sonya break the news that Anatole is married, and the sheer pain, and anguish on Natasha’s face could make anyone sob. Her denial that he just can’t be married is the moment she realizes the true gravity of the situation.

·       Pierre returns home to find Anatole (and really he could have avoided all the running, if he just went home).

·       He yells at Hélène and tells her how repulsed he is by her. And holy shit. Okay so let’s dissect this for a minute. Before Hélène mostly spoke and looked at Pierre with a mocking or dismissive tone, but here she looks absolutely terrified of him. When he comes closer, she shrinks back against Anatole. I could see her visibly trembling. She rushes down the stairs and throws herself over one of the banquette booths.

·       When Pierre crosses her to get to Anatole she physically recoils and lifts her hand to shield herself from her husband. And maybe this is just a reaction to the visceral rage Pierre gives off, but you can’t tell me Pierre hasn’t or won’t in the future raise his hand to her. She just looks so terrified, and no one ever seems to notice this. And I just want to take her away from that home right now because she’s not safe. She’s not safe at all.

Pierre & Anatole:

·       So this is the big fight scene.

·       Pierre starts out like Marya. Restrained. But as Anatole gets more and more cocky, Pierre just grabs him and it’s truly glorious.

·       Anatole is practically shaking. But quickly recovers when Pierre realizes he’s gone too far. Side note: why the fuck can Pierre back down to Anatole and forgive him when he can’t even do that with his own wife, who is totally way less at fault here. Fucking misogyny that’s what it is.

·       So when he is all like “amuse yourself with women like my wife” Helene bolts up from where’s she’s been hunched over on the floor. The look she gives him, part terror, part rage, part disbelief like “how dare you say me or any other woman should have to go through this?” Hélène deserves better. Someone bring her to Marya’s house so they can kiss and make up.

·       During this, Natasha crosses to the middle of the stage with a glass of water. She holds it above her head and pours the arsenic into the cup. It’s such a devastating moment. And if you don’t know what’s going to happen you think she’s actually going to die. First she hunches over retching. Then after several beats, she shrieks in horror when she realizes what she’s just done. Somewhere in this, both Marya and Sonya spring up from where they’ve been waiting. Sonya looks devastated and disbelieving and as she runs after Natasha, she’s off-mic just saying no no no over and over. And Marya? Oh gods. Marya looks like she’s going to start sobbing. When she jumps up, she reaches out to Natasha desperately. Just her facial expression. Grace McLean Fuck me up.

·       Anatole takes off to Petersburg and the note he hits at the end. It’s truly a fascinating moment.

·       Hélène stares at him leaving and her heart is just shattered. She turns to Pierre as though pleading, but he just gives her this horrible glare, and she turns to lean over the banister, clinging to it to stay upright. Someone give this woman a tony for fuck’s sake.

Natasha Very Ill:

·       The song begins with sirens. Sonya crosses Marya’s path and for the first time there’s a moment of true affection between them. They’re united in their love for Natasha. Sonya looks at Marya with such devastation, and Marya reaches out to comfort her and assure her as best she can, but it’s not very effective when Marya looks as lost as she does.

·       Pierre enters the house, and leads Marya into a chair. Marya knows what to do, she always knows what to do, but now she just looks so small and helpless. There are tears pouring down her face, and just wow.

·       On the opposite side Hélène is seated. Hunched over and looking horrified and devastated over Natasha. I think Hélène, even if she wanted to shake things up, genuinely cares for Natasha (after all she is the goddaughter of her girlfriend).

·       When Sonya sings that Andrey is to return, the doors open, and the bright light once again illuminates the person coming out. When this happens, the entire cast shields their eyes, looking at him with such a variety of emotions. Marya is anxiously waiting for the axe to come, Hélène looks terrified, Sonya dreads everything. Only Pierre looks somewhat happy to see his best friend, even if it’s heaving mixed with sadness.

Pierre & Andrey:

·       So both Nicholas and Blaine deliver the “there’s a war going on” line differently. Nicholas says it with sorrow and exhaustion. Blaine says it angrily like “do you all know what’s happening? And I have to come back for this?”

·       He slaps the letters into Pierre’s hand.

·       So I’ve got some thoughts about the whole “but I didn’t say I could forgive” because on one hand if Andrey had asked Natasha to marry him again, they’d never be able to move past this. It would always be a sore spot in their life, and it probably would be a terrible marriage. But on the other hand, you fucking hypocrite. I understand where you’re coming from, but c’mon.

·       But the clincher is when Andrey returns home. It’s this exchange between him and his sister that condemns him forever for me. Mary is waiting for her brother in her father’s chair. And when she sees him she knows things are bad, but she’s just so happy to see her brother home from war and alive. She rushes to embrace him but he just shoves past her and slumps into his father’s chair. Mary’s face though. Frightened just like she was with her father, and you just know she knows the cycle is going to start up again. Because he is her father’s son. She’s completely defeated, and slumps back onto the floor at the foot of the chair. And you can’t help but wonder if she’s thinking it’s all her fault. Because that’s the kind of person Mary is… and if she had just been nicer, if she hadn’t driven Natasha away that first time…

Pierre & Natasha:

·       Natasha comes out in this shapeless shift, and I was just struck by how thin and helpless she looked.

·       This whole exchange between them is heartbreaking. Like when Pierre asks her if she loved that bad man, Natasha raises her voice telling him not to call Anatole bad. And people have said this before, but she’s just thinking that if he’s a bad man, what does that make her to fall for him?

·       When Natasha doubles over and starts to sob, your entire person feels her pain. In the last performance I saw, she sobbed even louder than I’d heard before. Because the show was ending tomorrow, and emotions were high. And I’m still not okay after that.

·       And when Pierre does his spoken line, the entire theater is dead quiet. No music, no nothing. (Side note: during my last show, the woman next to me – who kept snottily telling me that they’d take my phone away if I was using it or recording (and I wasn’t thank you very much) – her phone vibrated at this exact moment, and I can’t tell you how satisfied I was with that. I only regret that she didn’t see the amazing side eye I was giving her. And then during the next song she starts trying to make a call. Like fucks sake!!!)

The Great Comet of 1812:

·       So during this song I couldn’t help but think Dave Malloy looked a bit maniacal. His shoulders were hunched, and he had his head tilted into one of them. And he had this stupid little grin on his face. All in all, so Pierre.

·       Natasha is the comet, pass it on.

·       When the entire cast joins him, it crescendos into this beautiful, and devastating melody.

·       I was watching Grace (no surprise there) and she was physically struggling to hold it together. She kept wiping her nose and dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief. And when the song ended she had to pull herself up and together to finish the bows. I know I’d be a sobbing mess, so she’s just that good!

Bows:

·       So the non-instrument playing ensemble comes to the circle around Pierre’s office, and they all take turns with their bows. Then the instrument people come and circle around. The fiddles get their spotlight, and the clarinet, and the accordions. The opera dancers get a spotlight too.

·       Then, almost in reverse order from the Prologue intros, the main cast comes out. First Balaga dances around. Mary and Andrey/Bolkonsky do their thing. Everyone is still in character because Mary is so sweet, and thankful, and when the actor for Andrey/Bolkonsky switches between roles, he turns puts on the glasses and shakes.

·       Dolokhov does this fantastic air guitar motion, and everyone cheers.

·       Then the music changes to something so joyful and upbeat with this rockesque feel. Hélène saunters around (and I forgot to mention her costume from Find Anatole to now is just this super extra dressing down, a corset, her stockings, and undergarments. It’s really something. I want one). During this Marya is just like, “ugh please” but it’s with this exasperated affection (for her girlfriend!)

·       The music changes again and Marya spins around bowing. I just really love Grace McLean.

·       She then hands it off to Sonya. And then we go to Anatole and yeah he always gets a cheer. Like Lucas Steele totally deserves it, and probably that tony as well. But like Anatole, what a fuckboy.

·       Then from the big doors, Natasha and Pierre emerge. There’s a shitton of cheering, and once they’ve acknowledged the orchestra (who all have their own costumes too!) it’s ended.

·       And we must say goodbye to our lovers once last time.

Final Thoughts:

·       Dave Malloy is a genius who deserves better. The whole cast deserves better honestly, but they’re going on to great things.

·       Ghost Quartet is going to be coming to off-broadway for a month, and I want to go so badly.

·       Gelsey Bell isn’t real. She’s some otherworldly being with a voice of an angel.

·       Brittain Ashford is so pure, and good.

·       Denee Benton captures Natasha so well, and I’ve never seen such beauty.

·       Amber Gray? More like Amber Gay, amirite? Seriously though, I could listen to this woman all day long. Her voice could melt glaciers. And Hadestown better bring back Amber Gray because I need to hear her sing those songs.

·       If I could write an entire thing on how much I adore Grace McLean we’d be here for the rest of time. So I’ll just say that we don’t deserve this woman in our lives. She is amazing and talented, and beautiful, and is both life and wife goals.

·       But that, is all I am permitted to say.

Jonerys AU (7/?)- Governess and Single Father

Jon lives with his son and daughter in a house far away from civilization, mourning the loss of his wife. She died so suddenly-and now he worries that something awful will happen to his three children. So he keeps them at home and hires governess after governess to teach them and keep them entertained while he goes about his work-but the governesses keep leaving, either because they do something wrong or because he grows tired of them.

Dany’s out of options and she’s always had a soft spot for children so she becomes the newest in Jon’s line of tutors. She and the children get along very well, but she and Jon are constantly at odds-especially over the children. Jon wants to fire her but he can’t because his children love her and he’d do anything for them. But as they spend more time together for the childrens’ sake, they realize that in the depths of pain, love can blossom as well.

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askhildon  asked:

(( Cute headcanon, Aldonza can pull another identical bag from her current bag if anyone asks where she got it/says they really like it. The second bag doesn't have the same abilities as the first bag, but it looks just as cool. ))

// BWAHAHAHHA!!! You are not far off from the truth! 

You see, Aldonza outside of retrieving supplies would be out on Search and rescue missions whether or not assigned to her by a client. Heck she even comes across people in distress out of the blue whether or not it was in a storm or after a pirate/marine attack. 

Never the less she would gift people little care-bags with clothes and daily remedies to take care of themselves. She would either use purses, backpacks and yes; Even normal carpetbags! They won’t look like hers since even her carpetbag is unique looking in its design, but she does have plenty in stock to give out when needed!

Untitled ficlet: Dean gets magically whammied

Spell’s incomplete when it gets tossed at Dean by the witch to try and slow him down, leading to only Dean getting affected, and to him ending up with the ability to scent people like something out of an urban fantasy novel.

Since Dean’s not hurt, they aren’t too worried by it- even if Dean tends to follow Sam around or even get mad because “Fucking hell, Sam, you smell like a damn bakery. I need something with cinnamon now.”

Sometimes the smell has obvious meanings no one mentions, like how Mary smells like a burnt pie- love that turns into disappointment.

Sadder still, and a secret he keeps to himself, is when Dean digs out Charlie’s left behind duffle he’d kept just in case… just in case. He cries when he smells her. Cries like he never got to when he lost her.

Coming into the library to see Castiel seated in one of the chairs, Dean’s eyes sort of glaze over, and the next thing he knows there’s a hand on his shoulder and one at his waist (not the same person) and two people saying his name in concern, and Dean blinks and pushes himself up and back, like dragging himself awake from sleep- though he knows he’s awake- with a gruff, “What?” and Sam can’t seem to even make words, though his face does a series of odd things, and then he hears a low, “Dean" soft and pointed and near, and Dean finds himself blinking in confusion into blue eyes aaannnddd Dean has somehow crawled into the chair to straddle Cas’ lap and basically bury his nose at Cas’ neck and shoulder smelling him.

He kind of wants to get back to that, actually. Sam shifts around, brows furrowed and hazel eyes more worried than amused. “Dude, are you high? Cas, I think you got him high. Look at his pupils.”

Dean feels high, actually, and snickers with the realization. And kind of want to lick a stripe up Cas’ neck. From the flush of heat on the angel’s face, Dean thinks he might have already. And, oh yeah, aside from giggles, that’s another side affect when Dean and drugs mix, which he can feel very evidently as he shifts to try and shove himself away.

“Sam, get him away from me. Or me from him,” a laugh, “He’s catnip and I wanna climb him like a tree,” followed by more giggles.

Sam drags him away, barking orders for Dean to both stop fighting him as well as to stop talking, herding him out into the garage, and Dean nearly purrs when he scents the Impala, happily climbing into the car and lounging back in contentment.

“You… better now?” Sam asks worriedly. He’s breathing heavily like he had to practically drag Dean the rest of the way, scared and aggravated in one.

Dean can only chuckle and wave him away, before settling back to sleep.

The next time he wakes, it’s to fingers gripping his chin and turning his head, and Dean is suddenly very alert at the sight of Rowena and Sam, eyes zeroing in on her.

She waves his brother away. “Run along, Samuel. He’ll be fine.” Standing, she offers out her hand, which he immediately takes, letting her lead him from the garage. “We’ll be in the library.”

Dean’s obedient as she tells him to sit on the end of the table, eyes studying her as she moves, pulling things from a carpet bag and setting them on the table near a bowl.

“It smells like Lysol,” he says softly.

“They wanted to make it safe for you to come back in the bunker.” She glanced at him with a coy smirk. “Heard you made quite the display.”

He can’t stop staring, fingers reaching out to pluck at one long curl. “You don’t, though.”

She falters with a blink, expression going guarded as she busies herself. “And what do I smell like?”

“It’s… complicated. Sweet, like sunlight and honey on the tip of your tongue,” he answers a little dreamily, like he’d been laying out in the sun and wanted a nap. “It’s warm like tea. Flowers in springtime. It suits you somehow.” There’s pink on her cheeks even as he releases the coiled lock. “What’s wrong with me?”

She pats his knee. “Nothing serious,” she comforts, voice soft and, for once, genuine. “Your body is under the effects of an incomplete spell for a sixth sense and psychic abilities. Your brain is interpreting partial readings of the world around you using the senses you have- all well and good, so long as you’re dealing with a mortal.” Straightening, she tapped the tip of his nose with her finger. “The supernatural on the other hand? You smell magic on me. Things a bit warm and fuzzy at the edges? Feel a wee floaty? Like a dream?” He nodded. “Aye. That’ll do it.”

He struggles to remember, earlier in the library when he’d had a bad- or very good reaction to- “Cas.” He looks at her. “What happened with Cas?”

Her lips purse like she’s trying not to smile. “Apparently, your bonny angel is- well, Samuel says you were immediately intoxicated and quite giddy. Whether from, ah, feeling not exactly platonic or just sensing the divine, I’m afraid I don’t know. Perhaps a mixture of cause and effect. Drink this.”

Obeying, he pulls a face at the taste, and hands the container back. She’s studying him. “What?”

“You… you just did it. No suspicion. No threats. You obeyed.”

She starts working on another concoction, Remedy Part II, he guesses.

“You’re not here to hurt me,” he answers. “Why wouldn’t I?” Something spikes in the way she smells, tangy like orange slices, and he think he may have embarrassed her, but then is immediately distracted again, reaching forward once more. “I like your hair.”

Two concoctions later, the room loses the dreamlike quality for something more real, before he starts feeling very heavy and sleepy.

“Samuel!” Rowena calls, stepping to the side as Sam rounds the corner, catching Dean as he slumps forward, half-asleep already. “The rest is sleep,” she soothes, fingers gentle where they touch him.

He comes only partially to, later, awakened by the sense of a familiar presence that has him reaching out blindly, index finger hooking around the tips of Castiel’s that hang over the arm of the chair.

Material shifts, and Dean can tell his patient waiting is replaced with alert relief. He cracks open a eye, trying to focus even as he feels himself drifting back under.

“Sorry…’bout before.” He yawns and snuggles more comfortably into his pillow and memory foam mattress, settling. “You still smell nice, though. I like it. Like you.” Sleep saps strength from his arm, making his hand fall away. “You always smell nice… Catnip.”

If he was going to say more than that, he doesn’t get to, and he doesn’t remember it when he wakes up. He buys Rowena some specialty tea as a thank-you, and sends it with a card.

He still zones out sometimes. At the scent of coffee or flowers or as light refracts brightly and it’ll take him a moment to come back to himself, shaking away the fog like a forgotten dream.

“Dean?”

Green eyes drift to the angel that had been walking beside him, then down to the bouquet of sunflowers he vaguely remembers selecting from the cart. “They’re you.” Cas clearly lacks all understanding in his meaning, which is drifting so quickly, Dean hardly remembers it himself. “They look like you,” he tries, knowing it’s not right, and grip loose as Castiel takes them from him.

A flush spreads across the angel’s cheeks and Dean wonders at it and then down at the flowers he’s holding, gesturing to them and trying to remember when they stopped. “…you like those or something? We can get ‘em for the bunker if you want.”

Cas angles his head, smiling. “I do like them.” He steps forward, gaze dropping to Dean’s mouth and then back up. “And, you don’t remember this conversation, but… I like you, too, Dean.” His brows knit as he tries to remember the exact wording. “Like catnip.”

Dean doesn’t remember, but something beyond memory does, something that has him smoothing a hand up the line of Cas’ neck to cup his jaw and slot their mouths together.

Dean freaking loves witches.

The Adventure Continues // Na Jaemin

Pt 1

-

summary: prince!jaemin part two where jaemin and you meet again, only this time he is engaged to be married.

words: 6063

category: angst + fluff, prince au

author note: it was nice to return to this au (also it somehow turned into my second longest scenario ever so maybe i got a bit carried away but how can you not it’s jaEMIN). as usual i miss jaemin and wish he would just show himself to us bc i miss my bestest pal. i hope he’s safe and healthy and being loved by his family.

- destinee

honestly if sm doesn’t update us on this pure snickerdoodle i will swim over to south korea mYSELF WATCH ME

-

Jaemin found himself sitting on the stone edge of the right side turret of his family’s castle. With his feet weighted by heavy boots, he found that he couldn’t hardly swing his feet back and forth like he pleased.

Instead, he let them hang limp, perhaps to mirror the feeling of despair that had settled in his stomach. In just two years, schedules and duties had distracted him from any kind of adventure he had dreamed of, bit more than anything, it kept him from you.

Jaemin thought about you often, and he wondered how you were doing. Your grandfather visited the kingdom every once in awhile for routine smithing and repairs. The young prince had followed him around for the first few months, asking questions about how you were doing.

Apparently, your grandmother’s condition had only worsened into something much more serious than a cold. Your grandfather informed Jaemin that you had been giving all your time to take care of her, and you wouldn’t be visiting the castle any time soon.

Months went by, and you still hadn’t visited. Then your grandmother passed away, and Jaemin felt his heart breaking along with yours. He wished to visit you and comfort you. He wanted more than anything to gather you in his arms and assure you that he was there. He wouldn’t leave your side.

They would just be empty promises, he often had to remind himself. The truth was that he was a prince unable to ignore his duties just to comfort someone. His job was much bigger, unfortunately, and he had to tend to the needs of the kingdom before he could tend to the needs of you.

Although he wanted more than anything to just throw down his metaphorical crown and run back to you.

Worries haunted him day to day. What if you had forgotten about him? What if you thought he forgot about you? What if you thought he was deliberately ignoring you?

Unfortunately, his worries hadn’t lessened in the past two years. If anything, they only came back stronger. Especially since his parents had just announced that he would be betrothed to one of the ladies who lived in the kingdom.

All of this would explain the disheartened spirit of the prince as he sat on the turret.

He held a sword in his lap, one with badly whittled initials in the hilt. His nineteen-year-old hands were more worn than his seventeen-year-old hands. The pad of his thumb was rough against the smooth hilt of the sword.

Jaemin sighed and looked out at the view before him. Somewhere out there was your small cottage, playing as a shelter for you and your grandfather.

You didn’t know what had happened earlier that day. Jaemin wasn’t sure you would, until it was officially announced by the local newsboys. He wanted to tell you himself though, and ask what he was supposed to do about it. He wanted to ask how he could marry anyone when you were the only thing on his mind.

A guard appeared on the turret. “Your Highness? Her Majesty has requested that you come spend lunch with Lady Havergaud immediately.”

Jaemin turned slightly to assure the guard, “Coming!”

-

You pulled the wool blanket closer under your grandfather’s chin. “Don’t worry, alright? You’ll be fine.”

He coughed, and a jolt of fear ran up your spine as you thought of him perhaps having what your grandmother died of. He had been depressed since she died two years ago, and the stress weighed heavy on his shoulders as he still did smithing work for the kingdom.

“I have an order,” he said. “I have to deliver the swords to the castle.”

“I’ve got it,” you assured him. “You taught me everything, remember? This way I can take over while you’re recovering.”

“Are you sure you can handle it?”

“I’ve got it. Trust me.” You leaned down to kiss his cheek, “Now go to sleep, and when you wake up I will be back with a warm pot of soup waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Y/n.”

The past two years hadn’t really been kind to you either. You had taken over your grandmother’s work, along with daily deliveries and lessons from the forge. Your grandfather thought it was important for you to learn the trade that brought income into the house, so that if anything were to happen to him you could step up.

Unfortunately, that time came sooner than later, so you were stuck doing day-to-day work with little rest. Your smooth hands were replaced by the rough and calloused palms of a blacksmith. Your hair was cut short, to keep from getting caught in the metal and fire of the forge you worked in. Your skin was often covered in a layer of dirt by the end of the day.

Entering the forge, you picked up the many swords given to you by the castle guards only yesterday. It was important to work on the swords quickly, so you and your grandfather often lost sleep over the knight’s swords you had committed to cleaning.

You sheathed each of the swords and placed them in a large carpetbag. Then, swinging the bag over your shoulder, you began the long walk to the castle.

-

Upon your arrival, your heart beat rose at the thought of who lived behind the walls. You hadn’t forgotten about the prince, although you were sure he had forgotten about you.

Because of everything that had happened, you really hadn’t had any time to visit him, even though he invited you to. You were busy with more important things than following the prince around all day. No matter how fun the latter sounded, you owed it to your grandfather to help him in any way you could.

Once you showed him the bag of swords, the castle guard opened the gate and allowed you inside. You eyes widened in bewilderment as you gazed down the well-lit stone walls. The entire castle seemed bright and cheerful, despite being made of dark gray stone. It reminded you of Jaemin’s positive vibes, and for a fleeting moment you could hear his cheerful voice in your head, convincing the castle decorators to make the interior of the castle more bright and welcoming.

“Y/n?” You turned at the familiar voice, and the sword hilts against your back all clanged together at the sudden movement.

“Mark!” you said happily. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since you moved to the castle!”

“I’m great!” he answered. “I’ll be completing my knight’s training next year. How’s your grandfather?”

“Not good,” you sighed. “He’s gotten much weaker from all the stress of Grandmother being gone. He won’t admit it, but he needs to rest for awhile.”

“He hasn’t rested since the funeral, had he?” Mark guessed.

“Works distracts him,” you supposed. “It also adds more stress to him, which is why I want him to rest. I can work the forge while he’s gone.”

“Speaking of.” Mark grinned and reached up and pulled something out of your hair. “You’ve got some ashes in your hair.”

You shrugged. “That happens when you work in a forge. Now, do you know where I deliver these swords?”

“Oh, I’ll take them. I’m on my way to the practice ground right now.”

You transferred the carpet bag onto his back, the whole time looking around.

“How in the world did you carry these?” Mark groaned under the weight of the bag.

“Practice,” you mumbled, peering down the hall.

“He’s at lunch with his fiancée,” Mark answered your unasked question.

“Fiancée?” Your voice caught on the word, as if it pained you to actually say it.

Mark looked sheepish. “I forgot they hadn’t announced it yet. Jaemin’s betrothed to a Lady.”

“Oh. Well, wish him well for me.” You forced your lips to turn up in a smile, “I’ll be going now.”

-

You subconsciously played with the ring on your finger as you walked into your home. “Grandfather? I’m home!”

“How’d it go?” he yelled from his room, coughing the final word.

You entered his room. “How long have you been awake?”

“Only a few minutes,” he assured you. “Tell me, did you see Jaemin?”

You hated to disappoint him, seeing the twinkle in his watery eyes. “No. I only saw Mark. Jaemin’s engaged, you know.”

“Really?” Your grandfather tutted. “I never really understood rich people and their arranged marriages. How bad is it for the prince to marry the one he loves?”

“It’s been two years, Grandfather. We’ve both grown since then and I’m not quite sure he loves me in the same innocent, childish way he used to.”

“First love is always innocent and childish. True love is the most innocent love there is, Y/n. He asks about you all the time, so there must be some feelings still there.”

You smiled bitterly. “Thanks, Grandfather. I appreciate you trying to cheer me up. Now, let me make you some soup and then I’ll go back out to the market.”

“As you wish,” he replied. “Choose to stubbornly ignore my words.”

You laughed, “I can’t get my hopes up, Grandfather. I’ve got so much more to do now than pine after a prince.”

-

Jaemin stiffly bowed to the Lady Havergaud. Her first name was Gwen, but Jaemin wasn’t sure he was ready to call her by that just yet.

She was dressed like every other nobleman he knew. Bright and colorful clothes, powdered makeup, and hair done up extravagantly.

“Your Highness,” she spoke with a knowing lilt in her voice. “How marvelous to meet your acquaintance.”

“It’s just Jaemin,” the prince said awkwardly. He shifted from foot to foot as he waited for someone to rescue him from this awkward encounter. When no one intervened, he supposed he would have to save himself. “Well, let’s have some lunch. Mother is probably waiting for us.”

She accepted his arm, using her gloves hand to keep a firm grip on him. “You’re not very muscular,” she spoke honestly. “I thought princes went through training to become stronger.”

“I’m strong,” Jaemin retorted.

“Of course, Darling,” the way she said it was patronizing and condescending. “When we marry, I’ll put you under a special diet and training program that will surely make your more buff and fit.”

Jaemin bit his lip to keep from biting back a sharp remark. Why did he have to be buff to run a kingdom? And, he would have her know, he was already fit.

“Be sure to eat more, okay?” She said. “I want my husband to be the envy of all the land.”

Jaemin couldn’t believe his ears. “Does my royal title mean nothing to the ladies?”

Gwen laughed loudly and slapped his arm. “You’re cute. When we’re married, let me do the talking at social events, okay?”

Jaemin gritted his teeth and only nodded. But deep inside there was a pang of regret and despair, knowing this would be his future.

Couldn’t he just run away? Couldn’t he just stop being prince for one moment and go on another adventure?

Couldn’t he go see you one last time?

Instead, he was stuck with someone who obviously only liked him for his title, and was already planning on changing him. Wonderful.

-

“Grandfather, you need to drink some water. If you get dehydrated, the sickness could get worse.” You struggled to get him to drink anything.

For the past few days, his fever had worsened. Now he was both throwing up and convulsing. Fear struck your heart, since he was doing everything your grandmother had done before she passed away.

If you could afford the cure for your grandfather, you could avoid the heartache. He could get better and you wouldn’t have to go through the pain of losing someone again.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t afford it. The village healer made that clear during his visit. “If you go to the castle healer, you can request the cure. However, I can guarantee it’s going to be worth an arm and a leg. I’m sorry.”

“Do they take exchanges?” you asked. “My grandmother has a watch I could trade for it.”

He nodded slowly, “It might work. I would definitely try it.”

“I will. Thank you.”

-

Jaemin picked up a vial of medicine and sniffed it. “What’s this?”

Jeno, the castle healer and Jaemin’s long-time friend, answered from the other side of the shop. “It’s for indigestion.”

“Hm,” Jaemin commented. He waited for his friend to turn away before he tipped the vial back and drank it’s contents.

“Jaemin, I swear—” Jeno looked at the empty vial and then the guilty grin adorning the prince’s face. “You can’t try a new medicine every time you come in here. You’re lowering my stocks.”

“It’s all natural remedies,” Jaemin said. “I’m not hurting anything. Besides, I might have indigestion.”

Jeno stopped at stared at his friend, “Jaemin, what is indigestion?”

The prince averted his eyes to the side. “Okay, well I don’t have to know what it is to suffer from it, do I?”

The bell hanging above the front door rang, signaling the arrival of a customer. Jeno excused himself and went behind the curtain, where the front of office was located. “Hello! How can I help you?”

Jaemin stayed in the back, doing what he was supposed to be doing in the first place: avoiding his fiancée and helping Jeno label his remedies.

“Hi. My village’s healer said you had a cure for me? He said he talked to you about it.”

Jaemin stopped his actions, feeling a nostalgic memory hit him instantly.

Y/n. That was your voice. It had to be.

Jaemin bit his lip as he tried to concentrate on the unnamed label in front of him. Still, he couldn’t seem to think of anything, save you and what you were doing at the castle healer’s.

Were you hurt? Was your grandfather hurt? Jaemin wasn’t sure he could face either possibility.

Stealthily, he crept towards the curtain and peaked it open ever so slightly, so that he could catch a glimpse of you.

He felt his heartbeat quicken and his thoughts go to mush as he saw you. It had been so long, and yet he hadn’t forgotten your youthful smile. It was the same even now, yet Jaemin could see a smudge of worry behind your upturned lips.

Your skin was darker, perhaps from the sun. Your hair was much shorter, and Jaemin thought that the way your messy strands ended at you shoulder looked cool and attractive. You seemed older, more mature than before, but as was he.

Jaemin felt like bursting through the curtain to give you the biggest hug. Unfortunately, he still lacked courage, and that kept him rooted in his place.

“Ah, you’re Y/n,” Jeno’s voice returned. “I’ve kept the cure safe in my pocket all day. Have you got your money?”

“Actually,” your voice shook, “can I trade something for it? I have a watch…”

Jeno accepted the watch and turned it over, this way and that.

Jaemin studied your anxious face, and he wished Jeno would just let you take the remedy free of charge.

“I can’t accept this,” Jeno said. “It isn’t real gold, so it’s worth isn’t much.”

“Oh.” You looked down, disheartened. Then, your expression grew hopeful.

Jaemin followed your gaze to your hands, where he saw on your third finger a ruby ring. It was the same promise ring he had given you just two years prior. An oath made so that the two of you would never forget each other. Jaemin’s heart lifted. Did you still think about him, too?

“I have this ring,” you said, struggling to pull it off of your finger. “It’s a real ruby.”

Jeno took the ring from your hold and nodded. “That’s perfect. Are you sure you want to give it up?”

“I’m sure,” you answered quietly. “It’s not very important.”

If a heart was made of glass, Jaemin’s would be in pieces right now. Servants would be scrambling to sweep up the shards as they fell onto the cold, hard floor.

Wasn’t important? Jaemin understood completely why you had to sell the ring, but why did you have to say it wasn’t important?

Did that mean he wasn’t important? Did you not remember him? Or worse, you did remember, you just simply didn’t care.

Jaemin retreated from the curtain and went back to his labels. Now his work was quicker, albeit quiet and solemn.

When Jeno returned, he looked at Jaemin carefully, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Is indigestion a broken heart?” Jaemin asked his healer friend. “Because I think I have it.”

Jeno stood still for a moment. “Actually, it’s gas, but I suppose a broken heart probably feels the same.”

-

Your finger felt empty. Throughout the next month, you were constantly aware of the ring’s absence.

Still, it was worth it, since your grandfather was returning to health rather quickly. By now, he could even visit the forge for a few hours each day.

The wedding was approaching quickly, and there were only three weeks to prepare. The queen had ordered that special rings be forged for the couple. According to Mark, Jaemin had spent weeks trying to convince his mom to let your grandfather forge his rings. Apparently he was still Jaemin’s number one influencer.

Your grandfather spend as many hours as he could, molding and forging rings only to realize he wished for a different design and start all over.

“It doesn’t feel right,” he would always say to you. “Of all the things Jaemin has told me, I have no idea why he would go through with this marriage.”

You shrugged in the middle of shoveling more coals into the fire. “Perhaps he likes her.”

“Yeah, right,” your grandfather snorted. “Remember last week, when Jaemin invited me for tea?”

You bit your lip. Jaemin had somehow found out about your grandfather’s recovery, so to celebrate he asked him to come for tea with his fiancée. Your grandfather was never allowed in the castle, however, because Jaemin’s fiancée wouldn’t let him come in. She said he was too dirty, with his fingertips blackened and his shirt carrying the sweat of a hardworking old man.

You heard from Mark that when Jaemin found out, he was furious, and even tried to visit the forge and apologize. You also heard that he was stopped, once again, by his controlling fiancée.

Still, these accounts were coming from two people who wanted you and Jaemin together. For all you knew, they could be lying, and she could be the nicest person you’ve never had the chance of meeting.

Until today.

Your grandfather had just gone back to the house to clean up and sleep for the night, but you stayed up, busy carving flower designs into some recently discarded rings.

“Hello!” someone shouted.

“We’re closed!” you replied, not looking up from your work. “Please come back tomorrow morning!”

You turned to see a woman coming in anyway, a familiar object in her hand. “Actually,” she spoke with a sort of haughtiness about her. “I’m the future princess so I think I can come in.”

“No,” you replied respectfully. “I have to get to sleep soon. Please come back in the morning, Your-Future-Highness.”

You bowed slightly, signaling her to leave the forge. Instead of respectfully leaving, she came closer. “My husband’s sword needs to be fixed. He said this part was getting old and he wants a new handle.”

“Hilt,” you corrected, feeling peeved at the fact that she called Jaemin her husband. They weren’t married yet.

“Whatever. Just have it polished and ready by our wedding day. I don’t want to see those ugly marks on it, alright?” With this, she dropped a sack of gold onto the stool behind you.

“Okay,” you agreed, not really connecting the pieces quite yet.

Then, as soon as she left and you glimpsed down at the sword, it became clear. It was Jaemin’s sword that he had made when he lived here. The hilt was the same, carved with his initials and yours. More things had been carved through the past years, like a small rose in the corner, and something similar to a heart.

Your memory stirred as you looked at the sword. Your heart was both elated and discouraged.

Did Jaemin really wish to erase this part of his life?

You set the sword aside, not having the strength to do it that night.

-

“Hey, where were you last night?” Jaemin asked the next morning on his way to the practice field. He had some free time that he wanted to spend with Mark, who had been teaching him the latest knight techniques.

His fiancée usually visited him every night to complain about something or other, and although Jaemin couldn’t say he missed it, it did make him curious as to why she hadn’t visited him the night before.

“I took your sword to that forge you always talk about and asked the person there to fix the handle.”

“Hilt,” he corrected.

Gwen rolled her eyes, “They said that same thing and it’s quite annoying. I swear I’m going to get wrinkles from all the stress you cause me. Anyway, I thought you would appreciate having those horrid marks removed from the handle. It would make it prettier on our wedding day.”

“WHAT?” Jaemin shouted, “You asked her to remove them?! Those marks are my memories! They’re the best memories I have! Why would you do something like that without asking me?”

Gwen shrugged, “I didn’t think it matter. Now I see it does. Sorry.”

Her apology didn’t sound the least bit sincere, and it took every fiber of Jaemin’s being to keep from saying something he shouldn’t have. Instead, he used his anger to fuel him as he ran down to your village in the hopes of getting his sword back, completely intact.

-

You bit your thumb nail and stared at the sword as if it were going to move. How could you restructure a hilt when the past one had so many memories? Why would you want to?

Your grandfather was still in bed, since it was the early crack of dawn. The only reason you were up was because you couldn’t sleep, and the past night was filled with tossing and turning and thinking about the prince.

You needed to stop. It had been two years. He hadn’t come back. You hadn’t gone to visit. It was time to forget Jaemin once and for all.

You picked up the sword, ready to completely redo the hilt, until a loud banging on the door caught your attention.

“Wait!” the outside voice called, “Let me in!”

You hurried to open the door, wondering who could be so distraught at such an early hour. Your breath caught in your throat as you beheld the prince, in the flesh, standing in front of you.

Jaemin was flustered, leaning with his palms against his knees as he inhaled long intakes of breath. “My sword,” he wheezed. “Don’t ruin it.”

“Jaemin…” the sword dropped to the ground as you stared at him. He was taller, yet just as you remembered him before with that same mischievous glint in his eyes.

When he finally caught his breath and straightened up, you engulfed him in a tight hug.

“Woah!” he laughed before wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you off the ground momentarily. “I thought I wasn’t important.”

Although his voice was teasing, his eyes held a certain fear in them that you couldn’t place. You let go of his neck, allowing your hands to slid towards his chest as you looked into his eyes. “Who told you that?”

“You did!” he said, his grip on your waist slacking only slightly. “When you gave the ring to Jeno.”

You slapped the prince’s chest, “Of course it was unimportant at the time! I needed medicine. I never said you weren’t important, though. Why would you think that?”

“I’ve been a horrible friend,” Jaemin replied quickly, “I haven’t visisted you in two years. Even when your grandmother died, I did nothing. I could’ve visited you or sent some money or anything but I didn’t.”

You gave him a soft smile. Everything felt better suddenly, and you wondered how you and Jaemin could return to easy conversation after having not seen each other for two years. It felt as if it had only been a few days, and the wait was worth it. “I know you’ve been busy,” you comforted him. “You’ve got a lot of stuff to do at the castle.”

Jaemin sighed and pulled you close to him again, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “What do I do?” he mumbled, tickling your sensitive skin. “I don’t want to marry her.”

“Why not?” you asked sardonically. “She’s an absolute peach.”

Jaemin laughed against your neck, and you felt goosebumps hearing your favorite sound for the first time since he left. “Isn’t she?”

“Come in,” you said, letting go of him and leading him away from the forge. “Grandfather will be awake soon and I know he’d want to see you.”

The two of you walked towards the cottage, shoulders bumping occasionally.

“We should go on another adventure while I’m here,” Jaemin said. “Maybe we could go back to the cave and I can see those fish again?”

He hadn’t changed at all, and you felt comforted by that fact. For there you were, more quiet and subdued after all that had happened. After you had to take the title as head of the house. You wondered if that bothered Jaemin: him coming back to a different you.

“I’ll take you to the cave after breakfast,” you assured him, smiling when he pumped his fist victoriously.

Inside of the cottage, Jaemin entered the kitchen before you could close the door behind you.

“It’s the same!” he cheered. “Nothing has changed!”

You leaned against the doorway of the kitchen and chuckled at his childlike excitement. “Grandfather thought changing it would be an insult to Grandmother’s memory.”

Jaemin suddenly frowned. “I should’ve visited her.”

“She wouldn’t have wanted you to,” you spoke honestly. “She didn’t want the prince to see her in such a state. She wanted you to see her when she was still beautiful.”

Jaemin smiled bitterly, “She was always beautiful.”

You walked forward and hugged him from the back, pressing your forehead in between his shoulder blades. “Don’t think about it too much, Jaemin.”

“Alright,” he whispered, placing his hands over yours.

“Now let’s make breakfast before Grandfather wakes up,” you said, hoping to lighten the mood.

-

“My babies! I’ve come home!” Jaemin said, dropping his bag and dramatically running over to the dark lake.

You dropped your bag as well. The two of you decided it would be fun to go camping inside of the cave, mostly because Jaemin had a scary story he insisted could only be told during the witching hour. Apparently, no one in the castle had wanted to hear it, so you were his last hope.

Jaemin dipped his hand into the water, giggling to himself as the fish swam by and tickled his skin.

You found yourself staring at him, and your mind felt like a puddle of goo as you thought about how great he was. How much you wished he wasn’t getting married, so that to two of you could have adventures like this forever.

He made you feel young again: youthful and free to do nothing but play around with the hidden wonders of the world. You were quite sure you loved the boy.

Jaemin looked up at you, and your heart stopped for a moment as you wondered if you had spoke your thoughts aloud. “Y/n, come see them!”

Sighing in relief that your secret hadn’t been found out, you happily went to sit beside Jaemin and watch his precious fish swim around.

“I really like them,” Jaemin spoke into the silence of the cave. “Watching them swim around makes me feel like I did two years ago, when everything was okay.”

“Tell me about it,” you mumbled.

Jaemin smiled at you, “We sound like old adults.”

“I know,” you replied, “It’s tragic.”

Jaemin elbowed you lightly, “You’re tragic. I’m awesome.”

“Shut up.”

Jaemin leaned forward and placed his hand in the water again, and you caught the long white scare lining his palm. “It scarred.”

“What? Oh, yeah.” Jaemin pulled out his hand and held it towards you, palm facing upwards. “I was a bit careless back then, wasn’t I?”

“Like you aren’t now,” you countered. You traced the scar carefully with your finger.

Jaemin suddenly grabbed your hands, “They’re rougher than they used to be.”

You squirmed at his words, “Sorry they aren’t dainty enough for you.”

“No!” Jaemin said suddenly. “I was just observing. There’s nothing wrong with rough hands. It means you’ve worked hard.” Then he pulled your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles. “Y/n?”

“W-What?” you stuttered, feeling warm under his gaze.

“Can we hold hands like we used to?”

“I don’t think we ever held hands, Jaemin,” you replied quickly. In fact, you knew it. You and Jaemin hadn’t done anything of that sort when he came to live with you. Except maybe all those times he clung to you when he was bored. That didn’t count though, did it?

“Yeah, we did,” he argued. “When you helped me feed the rabbit.”

“That’s hardly hand holding.” You laughed at him. “You were afraid and I helped you feed the rabbit. We weren’t holding hands.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes dramatically, “Can I just hold your hand? Whether we did it in the past or not?”

“What about your fiancée?” you asked nervously.

Jaemin linked your fingers with his own and smiled at the finished product. “I don’t want to get married to her, so I won’t.”

“How are you gonna get out of it?”

“I have no idea.”

-

Jaemin looked at you with the scariest glare he could muster as he held a lit torch under his chin. In reality, he looked like a constipated dragon.

You tried to contain your giggles as Jaemin continued his story, “So she was never seen again and no one remembered her. The only one who did was that lone fisherman, who could still hear her cries throughout the dock.”

You slapped your hand over your mouth, yet you couldn’t stop the laughter from spilling out of your mouth. “That wasn’t scary at all!”

Jaemin pouted from above the flame, “Really? I worked hard on that one.”

“How hard did you work on it?” you giggled, falling onto your back as you couldn’t stop laughing.

Jaemin frowned and crawled over to you, peering down at your face. “I spent a whole three weeks coming up with that story.”

You smiled up at Jaemin from your spot on the floor, “You’re a dork.”

Jaemin returned your smile and plopped down, rolling over to lay beside you on the ground. “You love me.”

You stayed quiet. Then, perhaps because it was dark and you couldn’t see his face in case he rejected you, you answered, “Yeah. I do.”

Hesitantly, you turned your head to the side to see Jaemin already looking at you in the low light. His smile had grown, and he was quiet as he stared at you. “Really?”

“I mean of course,” you shrugged. “It’s not like we don’t love each other, right?”

Jaemin’s smile fell and he looked up at the cave ceiling. “If…” He exhaled softly and closed his eyes before continuing, “If I can’t get this engagement to end, please don’t think I don’t love you back. Please don’t think you haven’t been the first thing on my mind since I left. Please know that I love you so much and I would love nothing more than to go on a different adventure with you every day, even if that adventure was just delivering swords for your grandfather. If I can’t get this to end, please don’t think my feelings for you aren’t real.”

“I won’t. I promise,” you whispered, reaching for Jaemin’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

-

It was the night before the wedding. You knew, because the entire village was covered in flowers and festive wreaths for the prince. Funnily enough, none of them mentioned the future princess.

You felt numb the whole night, pondering what it would feel like when the newsboys would run down the road and announce that the prince was officially married. Your heart felt heavy as you continued with your chores.

Your grandfather left to go to the wedding, having to deliver the rings and wishing to visit Jaemin beforehand. He pushed you to come along with him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go. There was no way you could see him again, knowing he would be married the next day. There was no way you could watch Jaemin vow to love someone else for the rest of his life. There was no way you could watch the mischievous light in his eyes fade to misery at the distant future. There was no way you could watch him kiss someone else.

Instead, you stayed home and continued your work before washing up and heading to bed.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t sleep, so you wrapped a large blanket around your shoulders and climbed up to the roof.

It was silent, as the majority of your village had turned in for the night. Only the distant sounds of neighbors still up, chatting in low voices, could be heard.

You could see the castle from your perch, and you wondered if Jaemin was there now, sleeping the night away before his wedding. The night before his entire life would change, and yours with it.

You couldn’t hold it against him. It was his duty to get married to someone before he took over as a king. Still, it pulled on your heartstrings that he was marrying someone he didn’t love, and someone who didn’t love him in return. Sure, you were going to be lonely with out him, but he was going to live the rest of his life with someone he didn’t love. That had to be the worst fate of all.

You shivered at the cold wind and pulled your blanket closer to your body.

“I found you again!”

You jumped at the voice and turned around to see Jaemin climbing up to the roof, a cheeky grin on his face. “What are you doing?” you hissed. “Your wedding is tomorrow.”

Jaemin shook his head, “Only if she says yes.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused, until Jaemin threw a familiar velvet box at you. You caught it and opened it to reveal the ring you had recently traded. The ring you loved. The ring that symbolized your promise to never forget Jaemin.

“If you agree, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. We can have our own adventures every day, and your grandfather can even move to the castle so we can be near him. I understand if you don’t want to become a princess, but unfortunately that’s the only life I can offer you.” Jaemin looked at you with pleading eyes, “Please say you’ll marry me.”

You pulled the ring out of the box and pushed it onto your finger. “Jaemin, what about your fiancée?”

“She was just as happy to end it as I was. Mother said I should’ve told her sooner that I was already in love with someone. She said I proved my sincerity to her, and any girl who helped me do that was deserving of the princess title.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the compliment. “It wasn’t all me. You’ve always been sincere in your feelings.”

“Maybe,” Jaemin agreed, “but you help me express them. Now please answer my question.”

“Oh,” you grinned. “Of course I’ll marry you. I thought that was obvious.”

“Yay!” Jaemin tackled you in a hug, constricting you as you were still cocooned in your blanket. “We’re going to literally be best friends forever.”

You giggled, “I can’t wait.”

~the end~

Precipice Chapter 3: Piece by piece

What’s this?  A wild update has appeared!

Sorry this took so long, but here it is, chapter 3!

In which Ford gets confused, several times, Soos needs a hug, and Abuelita makes an allusion to Mary Poppins.

Word count: 3,686

Chapter 2     Chapter 4


       Ford wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep, leaning sideways in the hospital chair with one of the books Wendy left sitting in his lap.  He was hovering on the fringes of unconsciousness, that dreamy state where he could feel the awkward position of his neck and the lackluster padding of the hospital chair and hear the distant voice that was coming from near his brother, but he just didn’t care. 

       Slowly the voice became clearer, and Ford grabbed onto it like a life preserver, pulling himself back into consciousness.  Something stirred in his chest- panic, joy, fear, shame guilt guilt guilt- that he couldn’t quite pin down until he was able to identify the voice as belonging to the hairless gopher man-child.  Ford started to sit up, but something in Soos’s voice made Ford pause and listen, feigning sleep. He opened his eyes a fraction and peered through his lashes, the man-child not having noticed him moving before.

       “-and don’t worry, the Shack is open today.  Ford was staring at the back of Soos’s head, but he didn’t need to see his face to know that the handyman was still just as upset as he had been yesterday.  Ford could hear it in his voice, see it in the way Soos mashed his baseball cap between his meaty fists. “Mabel’s in charge again, and Dippers doing the tours. You’d love to see him go Mr. Pines, he does a great job.  But not as good as you dood,” Soos said with a little sniff. Or, well, a rather loud sniff  “no one can compare to the original Mr. M-mystery.“  Soos’s voice broke on the last word, and through barely cracked eyelids Ford saw the young man’s shoulders tremble.

       "We’re all really worried about you Mr. Pines. Dipper and Mabel both cried themselves to sleep last night, and Wendy is low-key freaking out.  We were texting until like, two in the morning cause neither of us could sleep.”  Soos took a trembling breath before continuing, “We all really need you to wake up soon dood. I mean, without you, who’s gonna read out of the joke book? And who’s gonna punch zombies and pterodactyls for Dipper and Mabel? Who’s gonna complain about Waddles eating the attractions? Wendy won’t have anyone to call a crappy boss anymore, and she’s gonna get like, sent up state and you know she doesn’t wanna do that. And I-“ Soos’s voice broke into a sob, and Ford watched the young man break down in front of him, twisting his hat between his hands "I really can’t have my dad leave again. So-so you gotta wake up soon.” He gave the hat in his hands a final twist before tugging it back onto his head “Please Da-ad.“

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Sherlolly Appreciation Week, Day 5- The Abominable Bride

Hello again! I was kind of excited to try this theme because I actually never wrote anything at all to do with TAB since it aired over a year ago. Tbh, I wasn’t terribly inspired by it at the time. But that’s another story lol. Now I was happy to try! So although this isn’t technically canon, it also doesn’t conflict with the canon of that episode. It could certainly fit if you’d like it to…I know I would. :)) 


A War He Must Lose

“Going somewhere?”

The deep echo of Sherlock’s voice in the back alley caused the small woman to halt and slowly turn. Once she was facing him, he could see the fear in her eyes. It occurred to him that she was afraid of him and that cut him deeply.

“Suppose I’m not anymore,” she said bitterly. “You’ve come to stop me, I assume?”

“I have,” Sherlock admitted.

She nodded. “And is the whole of Scotland Yard out front then? Waiting to take me away?” she asked through grit teeth.

Sherlock approached her slowly, again noting her trepidation. “No, Molly.”

Her lips parted in momentary shock. “Y-you know…you remember.”

“Of course I remember, yes. Do you really expect that I wouldn’t recognize a childhood schoolmate who happened to have the same last name and unmistakable eyes as a rather short and slight, but supposedly male, doctor at Bart’s hospital?” He raised a brow.

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Thief Pt 5 // Park Jimin

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt 4

- Part Five: Courage

summary: in which prince jimin doesn’t know that his future wife is not only trying to steal from him, but is also trying to kill him.

words: 2,683

warnings: mentions of abuse

category: prince au, fantasy au

author note: i hope this chapter makes up for the fact that i skipped last week’s update.

- destinee

Originally posted by princejimin

-

-

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A wonderfully insightful peek at Anne the Series.  An exploration of the contents of the battered carpet bag that Anne uses to house her meager possessions.  Full of touching little insights into who she is.  That’s the mark of a well-thought-out show.  Even if we may never see the contents of that bag onscreen, the producers still fill it with meaningful little details.  That way, the world of the show is filled out, even if we don’t see all of its hidden corners.

And Moira Walley-Beckett’s description is poignant as she reflects on how that bag is an important echo of Anne herself…

“The carpet bag is Anne’s one worldly possession.  It’s this place that holds… the tiny things that she owns.  And its broken and battered and stained… and has been repaired countless times.  And it’s something that somebody didn’t want… just like her…”


willowfae82  asked:

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.” with Tig (or Juice). thank you!!

❗️Warning: insinuation of violence and death

“Breathe baby, breathe.“

You shuddered out a shaky breath, an involuntary whisper coming out at the end as a few more tears made their way down your cheek. You turned your head and tried to look over at the body laying on the floor, but Tig grabbed your face firmly, pulling you to rest against his chest.

“Don’t look over there babygirl. Don’t look at that. Come on, let’s go to the living room.”

Tig stood with you, pulling your out of the bedroom and into the living room, holding you close to him the whole time. He sat down on the couch first, holding his arms out for you to come settle in his lap. He sat you sideways, your legs handing off to the side of him while your arms were tucked between both of your chests, your hands fisted in his leather. His fingers stroked through your hair gently, every now and then patting as he pulled out his burner and dialed Jax’s number.

“Hey brother, listen. I uh, I’m gonna need a couple of you to come down here to Y/N’s place. We just got back from dinner and there was some guy hiding in her room. I don’t think it has to do with the club, it’s just some kid. Probably broke in to steal some shit. I doubt he was counting on me being with her. Either way, I,”

He looked down at you to see you with eyes still open and decided to choose his words a little more carefully.

"I handled it. It’s a mess though and I need you guys to come help clean up.“

You listened as Tig finished off the conversation, hanging up and immediately pulling your body closer into him.

"You ok baby? Don’t cry.”

You shook your head and pulled your arms out from in between you, wrapping them around his neck.

“I’m not crying for him. I just, he got so close to you with that knife. I mean I’m thankful that you were here because if I were alone I don’t know what would’ve happened. But you were here and what if he…what if he had… ”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to spit out the words, an ache throbbing in your chest at the thought. Tig quickly grasped your face in his hands, gently pulling you for face him.

“Look at me. Look and me babygirl.”

You allowed your bloodshot eyes to drift up to him, thanking whatever was out there that he was still there with you.

“But he didn’t. He didn’t hurt me and he didn’t hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me. You’ll always be safe with me. I promise you that.”

You nodded and leaned up to press a kiss to his lips, your nerves beginning to get back under control. You both stayed there in silence, only the sound of Tig’s hand rubbing along you back could her heard, the fabric of your shirt rubbing again she is hand. It was merely minutes before you could here the rumbling of bikes coming down the street, the sound almost deafening as they parted in front of your house. The sounds of boots and skewers stomping towards the door could be heard before it swung open. Jax, Juice, Chibs and Hap all came in, a prospect hurrying in behind them with a heavy looking bag.

"I’m gonna go back you some clothes ok. You stay here with Chibs, I’ll be right back. Then we’ll get you to the clubhouse for the night.“ You nodded, immediately feeling at ease having all of the boys around. Chibs walked over with a sympathetic smile while Tig slide you off of his lap and towards his brother. Chibs sat beside you and threw an arm over your shoulders, leaning down to press several kisses into your hair.

"How’re ya holding up sweet girl?”

You simply nodded and cuddled in closer to him, watching as Jax spoke quietly with Happy and Juice. Half Sack reached into the bag and began pulling out its contents; a gallon of bleach, a scrubbing brush, carpet stain remover, garbage bags. You could here Tig rummaging around in your dresser before he finally came out of the bedroom, an over night bag packed.

“You ready baby?”

You nodded and slowly pulled away from Chibs, standing slowly, the drop in adrenaline starting to make you tired. Chibs stood up with you and softly whistled at Tig.

“Why don’t you take the lass in her car. We’ll bring your bike back.”

Tig nodded and clapped his brother in the shoulder in thanks before reaching out to grab your hand. He walked with you towards the front door, holding it open for you, his hand on your lower back as he led you out. With one last glance back, you saw Juice smile softly at you, Happy pulling on gloves and cutting open a black trash bag.

Richonne AU (Forbidden Love) Your Love For All Of Time pt 2

Happy Birthday @siancore I did a part 2 as requested for you and all those who asked. I hope everyone enjoys.

xxxxxxxx

Michonne stood and looked around her small quarters one last time. She had tidied it so if looked the same way she found it a year ago.

“So Mr.Blake informed me you were his governess for little Penny.” Mr. Walsh said, as he looked at the young, black woman in front of him. He immediately decided she was a serious little thing. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun of coily, curls. Although a few tiny curls escaped and rested against her forehead. She wore a bright, long-sleeved white blouse that had a collar buttoned all the way up to base of her neck. It was tucked into a long, dark skirt that failed to hide her shapely figure. Her hands clasped in front of her. If not for her youthful features and large sparkling, brown, almond shaped eyes she would be the spitting image of his governess. Do they all dress alike? He wondered.

“Yes sir.” Michonne answered, she swallowed and looked as if she was blinking back tears. “Such a tragedy what happened to his wife and daughter.” Mr. Walsh said. The wife and daughter of her former employer were killed when their horse got spooked and ran their carriage into a lake bringing them back from church. None of the passengers could swim. Mr. Blake wasn’t fond of church service and he was not present. Michonne had saved enough to visit her father on weekends off from teaching, so she wasn’t there with them that tragic day. “Mr.Blake is certain he wants to part with you?” Mr. Walsh asked. When Mr. Blake had asked him to employ Michonne he didn’t look to be in any state to be alone, as most of the staff had left, expect a few and Michonne. Michonne. The only one seemingly able to handle his grief…until now.

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