#Ferns downstairs just singing his little heart away | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wasabi-duck · 7 years

Text

florist jimin

these are so generic but i wanted to do it so yolo

okay so jimin

our boy jimin

he works at a lil flower shop down on main street

okay so here's some visuals

so it's this little shop tucked away between a restaurant and like a public office

it has a giant awning and an old wood door that makes it seem like a gate into a fantasy world

in the windows sit not only roses and lilies and daisies but also like cacti and ferns and vines too so is obviously not just flowers, but every plant you can imagine

the inside is super tiny so it's like flowers are practically growing from every nook and cranny to make the most of all the possible space

and when the seasons change, the plants offered change so like in spring it's obviously flowers all around and you can't make a turn without ramming into a sunflower

and in winter it's all succulents and cacti and it's like a fairy garden

there's always some classical music playing and sometimes there's like off celtic music playing too just soft non vocal music

jimin was actually the one who suggested the music because he's like we can't talk to all the plants all seconds of the day and they're going to get lonely if they don't hear anything!! so we have to play them some music so they feel better!!! and so yes there's always music playing in the background

the walls are gray blue and there's wind chime hanging from the ceiling always and every time it step inside you're transported to another world

you just moved into a new apartment and you're like it's so dark and cold in here and i hate it and i need something to make my world better

you hear of this little flower shop down the street so you bundle up and decide to go explore

it's easy to spot

you head inside, and the little bell above the door tingles and jimin is the one at the counter

he's singing to some of the lil cacti so he doesn't really notice you standing there and so you kinda just watch and listen

and his voice is so beautiful you're like what is he doing here when he should be on the radio

jimin finally notices you and he gets all embarrassed and he immediately stops singing when he sees you and he coughs and straightens up and fixes his apron

“oh hi i'm- i'm jimin!!” he waves shyly and his cheeks are redder than the roses

you smile and introduce yourself but you guys don't talk after that because jimin is too embarrassed to say anything

and you think he's super duper cute and you don't wanna seem weird by talking more so you just meander around and look at all the other plants

it's not awkward with the music playing in the background but it's cute??

because like you keep peeing at jimin from behind the sunflowers and he keeps glancing over at you when your back is turned

he eventually whips out his phone and texts the bangtan group chat and is like uh help i have seen the cutest angel in the world

and hoseok is like :D wow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and yoongi is like lmao but hoseok is here with us uhhh

but namjoon is all supportive like plz just say hi and tae is like no that is noT ENOUGH-- drop your number

jungkook and jin are seeing who can send the most naruto memes :/

jimin thinks that he'll end up regretting it if he doesn't say anything to you though so he takes a deep breath then walks over to you

“so is there anything you're looking for in particular?” he asks and you jump a little because you didn't realize he was standing there

“oh um…” you brush your fingers over some peonies “well i moved into a new apartment and it's so dreary and i just wanted something to brighten my room…”

“well i mean… not like you have to take my advice but gerberas are really pretty. you could make those your center pieces.” jimin smiles and points to some large red flowers “they always make me smile”

your eyes widen and you smile excitedly “oh those are beautiful… i think i'll take those…”

you hurry over to them and jimin follows along patiently while you pick out your favorites

you're not making a bouquet so jimin doesn't talk about the greens and other flowers you typically add to make a complete set

but then he realizes that like uhh you're gonna leave now

“you should come back next week, we're having a sale.” he blurts out after ringing you up

you blush heavily but nod “of course… i'll need something new by then, so think for me okay!!”

it becomes a weekly tradition to go into the flower shop and every week jimin has a new flower for you to take home

and as the weeks go on you spend more and more time chatting with jimin and one night you even stay until close because you and jimin get lost in your conversation

jimin always gives you flowers for free too like sometimes you'll get an order of daisies and he'll slip in lily for you

or you'll get a ferns for the week because you need some green and jimin is like well these white carnations are going to rot if someone doesn't take them soon so you can have them!!!

and succulents!!! he admits to you that he named them all and he's like they're my children…

and that day you find one that's really long and spindly and you're like this is so opposite jimin omg cute…

and you're like,,, “this one can be our shared child.”

and jimin gets all red and he hides behind his hands and he's like !!! “our what!!!!!”

“our child?? his name is johnny, we're the proud parents obviously…”

and soon you two are both giggling and joking about your new little family…

all the other works know jimin is like in love with you….

but he's too shy to say anything like you're just a customer and he just needs to get back to reality, you're just being nice to him….

but his boys are like lol jimin plz you're the whole package you need to make a move!!!

but jimin is so shy and so cautious that he doesn't want to upset you or ruin your relationship because you guys are like… friends

and you like come in every day so it would be weird if you didn't!!!!

but one day you actually don't---

and jimin is pacing because they're about to close and where are you?? and everyone is teasing him because he has a crimson amaryllis waiting for you… but you're no place to be found

he shakes it off and thinks you must be busy,,, but he goes home with a heavy heart because he was looking forward to seeing you and your beautiful smile and bright eyes,,,, and hear your cute laugh,,,

but the next day you don't come in either?? you're gone??

jimin panics and he assumes that maybe you're upset with him or something and that day he doesn't sing to the flowers and he just stares out the window, glumly waiting for you

it's like all the flowers wilt when you're not around and jimin swears that it's because you're not there to brighten their day…

one of the other workers is like why don't you check on them…

and jimin is like thats weird---

but then jungkook, that little brat, tells jimin that he's heard from some mutual friends that you've been sick!! like super duper sick and haven't left your apartment!!

and jimin is like what--- how do you know and jungkook is like i have their number lol we're bros now

and jimin is whAT!!!!!!!!!!

jungkook is all like you should bring them some flowers on your day off or something idk just an idea or something…

and jimin is like yes i will

jimin doesn't have a car, he has a bike, an old rickety bike with a big basket in front

he fills the basket with a variety of flowers and ferns, to include a bouquet of roses and your son johnny

there's a bunch of your favorites too!! jimin knows all your favorites and brought them along

and he's pedaling down the street as fast as his legs will pedal him and as he does some petals fly into the air!! and it's kind of cute like it's a very sunny day and he has all these flowers and he's peddling down the street to come and make your day

jungkook told you to make your way downstairs so you assumed jungkook (who you don't know is jimins bestie) would be coming to bring you soup or something

you're standing at the entrance to you apartment, huddled in seven quilts and still wearing your favorite pajamas

you squint because you see someone coming and then to your surprise it's not jungkook, it's jimin, on his bike

your brows furrow but then you acknowledge that yes, yes that's actually jimin and your heart starts to run a marathon in your chest

jimin brakes and then parks his bike against a tree

he grabs all the flowers in his arms and hurries over to you

before you can even speak he shoves them all in your arms

“jungkook told me you were sick and so i brought all your favorites and i hope you don't think this is weird, but i'm sure you were feeling lonely and i thought all of these might cheer you up or something!!!” and he's rambling now because he's so embarrassed and he realizes that damn this is a lot of flowers…

but you smile so wide and even though you're absolutely sick, you're glowing… like jimin hasn't seen anything brighter

you hug all the flowers to your chest and you go to say thank you but jimin suddenly runs back to the bike

he comes back holding johnny and he's like “ahh i forgot this one…”

and you're so touched you could almost cry but now isn't the place and time and you don't wanna embarrass yourself in front of jimin

you go to say thank you but then you sneeze and jimin is like !!!! is it that the flowers and you're like shhh no i'm just sick these are amazing

and he gets all smiley and he does the eye smile thing and he shoves his hands in his pockets all sheepish and shy “it was nothing…”

and he gets all embarrassed so he's like uh i gotta go hoseok and yoongi and jin and i are having game night i'll see you soon okay???

and you're like okay… bye chim

and his heart skips a beat because um chim?!

okay but you head inside with all your flowers and you're like wait… red roses… i've never gotten roses from him…

and you're like well uh… google

and then you look it up and uh… this can't be right i thought they were generic romance flowers because they were pretty…

so you're like is it coincidence or

or does jimin…

like me???

and you stare at the screen for what be hours upon end and you don't know whether to laugh or cry because jimin just admitted his feelings!!! or at least you think he did!!!

and you're like spinning around and you're holding the roses close to your chest and when you go to bed that night you keep the baby succulent and roses on your bed with you…

once you feel better you head into the shop and jimin just watches you because yes he confessed but like… he doesn't know if you saw that… or realized it so he stays silent and he kind of ignores you almost at first…

you have a plan though

you go through the store and when you find what you want

you slam it down on the counter, waking jimin from your thoughts

“ambrosia.” you smile. “it means returned feelings. or at least… i think it does…”

you purse your lips but jimin just stares at you and you're like oh uh maybe i misread the situation--

“i get off in an hour- come back and maybe we can get some coffee…??”

and yes you get coffee and you raise a succulent family and he gets you a new flower bouquet every day cause he loves you...

#park jimin #jimin #bts jimin #jimin scenarios #jimin scenario #jimin fluff #jimin imagine #bts fluff #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts #bangtan boys #bangtan fanfic #bangtan text #bts fanfic #bts imagines

204 notes · View notes

supacutiepie · 6 years

Text

Dorian’s Song of Bees

The singularly most indulgent headcanon fic I’ve ever messed around with writing lmao. In which I get emotional and make a lot of shit up for Dorian for funsies and bc i just wanted him to raise bees dammt.

The witching hour had fallen across the estate, and throughout its various rooms and halls there was the sullen hush of sleep. Even the late evening servants had retired, and left naught but burning embers in the fireplaces to flicker in the din.

It was the perfect hour for mischief and escape. But at Ten, one saw more mischief in their actions than escape- or at least, practiced more mischief than escape. At the time, the idea of running away was something magical all in itself, and not something inherently necessary to one’s well-being.

But these weren’t thing a young boy pondered as he slipped out of bed, quiet as a mouse. A boy decides whether or not he will wear shoes with his cloak, if he will weather thin pants soaked from the fresh dew of soft grass. He decides that no, not shoes. Because shoes ruin the magic. A boy decides the best route is the route well followed, silently tip-toeing around the halls and using only moonlight and the soft sympathetic magic of embers to guide his way.The estate was large and austere, so to a little boy it was an adventure to sneak about unseen. The shadows painted funny faces onto the marble floor, but he was never afraid.

This was the Pavus’ Estate House, the largest of four different properties and homes. And little Dorian Pavus didn’t care about any of the luxuries if they didn’t suite his very specific interests. He much preferred the Thalrassian Estate House, his others parents home. It was smaller, but filled with books and spells and people who breathed magic with every step. In this home, with it too-large space and no-too-filled bookshelves, it felt empty. Void of the magic Dorian so deeply yearned to understand.

He’s magic portal lay through the kitchen, tucked into the servants hall that ran the perimeter of the building’s main rooms. The kitchen was always a detour, and it was still pleasantly warm as he snagged some soft rolls and jam for his favorite snack. The kitchen was the oldest part of the house, and he like to imagine that if he simply stood with his bare feet on the hearth-warmed stones that plausibly he could feel the decades of simply hearth magic layered into the stone and wood.

When he was eight, he’d snuck one of the servants keys into his pocket and never regretted it. He doesn’t know if they ever noticed, or if someone had let the crime go unanswered...but he refused to give up his precious key.

The door opened silently into the main conservatory. It was a spacious room, filled from tile to ceiling with so many plants and herbs that Dorian also felt in awe when he stepped inside. It was warm in the room, and the night sky twinkling in from the glass roof did little to cool it off. There was probably a magical solution, or just a very practical one, but Dorian liked to think it was all magic.

He carefully walked through the room using the utmost diligence to avoid stepping on wayward tendrils of delicate plants. His mother would maybe excuse the late night excursions, but if he harmed one of her precious plants he’d never see the light of day again. He also wouldn’t forgive himself because he adored these plants. He’d lived in this room as much as any other room his entire life.

He pauses by the slowly swaying pot of foxtail-cotton. It’s a stiff stemmed plant that flowers in clusters of soft white almost-cotton. The leaves of the plant range from red to silver, and curl playfully like the tails of their namesake. Dorian isn’t sure where his mother found such a plant, or why she only has this one sample, but he love the bright colors and soft blossom.

He says his hellos to the little plant before making his way out of the conservatory and into the wam mid-summer evening. Outside was always just as awe-inspiring. The garden was ripe and in full bloom, with heavy bundles of Roses and Peonies wafting thick scent into the air. The path split off in many directions and with each came new scents and sights to indulge in. The garden path itself as a soft gravel lined by Marigolds and Chrysanthemums, each bloom heavy and shivering in the faint breeze that came rushing over from the nearest cliff on the other side of the estate. It tinkled the dainty windchimes set high into tall Oak and Sycamore trees, and it set the heavier wooden chimes off in low thnk thnk thnks.

He dashed to and fro, hiding behind the hedge and trellis’. With careful peeks his looked at the windows facing out to the garden. Seeing each on still darkened, he giggled with boyish glee and sprinted out into the garden.

At night, what was glorious became divine. Little fire-bugs danced through the leaves, and the more enchanted plants seemed to sway to a gentle merry tune. Out here, there was no need for wondering about one’s place in their home. Or worrying about a future they couldn’t yet imagine. Out here, a little boy could twirl under the stars and let his magic sing out and entwine with the roots and stems of beautiful plants and foliage.

He danced across this natural ballroom gracefully, until he was past each wonderful plant and stood at the edge of the estate’s main property. His pants were soaked and smelled of grass and lilacs, and his hands had been sprinkled with pollen and nectar.

This is perhaps his only favorite thing about his father’s estate.

The cliff at the edge of the estate drops down into the Nocen Sea, and the ever tumultuous water provided a constant mist of sea salt and loam, whose scent lingered even before one came to front gate. But there are its peak, the cliff seemed to hum with the power of the ocean that which crashed upon its crags. Near the edge of the cliff-face, standing old and weathered, is what remains of a ground-wardens home.

At some point, before the Pavus family took control of this estate- someone once lived in this small cottage and oversaw the general maintenance of the grounds. This duty had been personally retired by Aquinea, in favor of her own personal grounds keeper taking over the task and residing in the main estate with the rest of her favored staff.

This left the cottage untouched for many years, leaving it to become a guest home for less desirable or more solitary guests of the estate.

But to a young and impressionable Dorian Pavus, it was the closest thing to heaven’s fields.

He walked up to the front door and hummed something genial and merry. A jaunty little tune he’d heard from the cooks whilst stealing sweets between lessons. He loved this house, and its nostalgic austerity. It was simple and nothing like the rest of the estate gold lacquering.

It was built to weather the storm, and the old wood held fast against the roughest upheavals. It was the perfect place for a young mage to hid away.

The key to the back door fit this lock, and it was a discrepancy that Dorian hoped nobody would ever notice.

The small cottage was neatly squared away for guests. But it was also largely abandoned. The floor was unswept, but had no obvious stains of trackings. The shelves undusted, but with no obvious need to dust in the first place. The downstairs was meant for simple necessity and hospitality- and held little to no personal charms. It selt of old dust and books but also of fresh sea mist and driftwood. It was serene.

When he was eight, he had a little streak of sneak-thieving. It was something he’d caught onto when he could no longer bare to stand in his lessons and be chastised by his father. He took to hiding when he could, and sneaking about when he knew he should have been practicing those destruction spells his father oh so valued.

But he was a little boy, who wanted nothing more than to join his mother in her garden. Something of which his father detested.

It was one such hideaway that he found another key, and another such tantrum which led him to use it.

He’d made a mistake, been to careless, and had earned quite the wrath of both father and teacher. In a fit of tears he fled from the estate and went as far back as he could until his pounding heart came to the rushing cliff face.

The cottage then was just an empty set of rooms to explore, but it became his refuge when he couldn’t face his father. It was by chance, pure happenstance, that he went up the stairs for the first time that same day.

The upper room was once an observatory, but with disuse it was free to be locked away and left forgotten. It was there that Dorian truly felt the power of the suns rise and fall.

When he was eight, it was a mostly empty room with a beautiful balcony and large clean windows. When he is ten, it’s his own personal grotto.

In the two years since finding it, he’s packed an entire generation of plants into that small place. Vines grow from planters off the floor onto the walls, with handmade rickety trellis’ to cling to. Different kinds of vines twirling together and reaching towards the always open balcony.

The floor space had been converted from smooth wood to dirt and ceramics. Pots and planters lined up in rows from one wall to the next. An old fainting couch was shoved the side and sat between two large pots of foxglove and larkspur, with the large sunroof sitting directly above it.

There was a telescope, but long forgotten its wonder when it took up space- so e’d dismantled it himself and stowed the pieces under a large wooden desk which became his personal botany table. It was covered in notes and journals, hand drawn pictures of plants and foliage studies. His hand was messy, but through the months he’d shown significant improvement with his research skills.

The room was drenched in his own magic, and the various plants and flora reacted to him instantaneously. Tendrils of ferns and soft petalled stems bowed as he approached, the leaves swaying out to brush against his hands as he examined them all. Some of the vines seem to peel away from the walls, slowly unfurling and playfully falling to land against his temple. He always laughs and gently pushes them back into their anchorings, then flits away to the next plant.

There are plants in this room that his own mother wouldn’t know, because he had grown each one with his own hands and his own magic.

From below, there was a hum. But once the stairs were ascended that hum became a steady thrumming beat that bounced off the wood and tiles. It’s epicenter was past the balcony doors, and with each step closer the buzzing got louder and stronger.

In a heartbeat the room shifted, and thousands of small golden insects came swarming about the room and centered around the boy.

Where most would be frightened, Dorian simply laughed and opened his arms to the swarm. Thousands of bees, each one singing their song whispered against him. All taking turns to land on him and leave him with their scent. He greeted them happily, “My lovely girls!”

He ran his hands through the air and felt the ticklish wonder of millions of little legs and hairs brushing his skin. And then with a simple gesture,the careful roll of his shoulders, the bees rescinded and went about patrolling the room or returning to the hive. There were little hives all around the room, places for the large colony to settle into once they outgrew the main hive box.

“Ah, there you are my dear…” he spoke gently and raised his closed hand. Sitting on his knuckles was the largest of his hive, the oldest as well. His Queen was a darling example of proper domestication, and he adored her greatly. She was calmer than all the rest and sat patiently waiting for him to gently pet her with his pinky finger.

“You’re looking lovely today.” He spoke to the Queen like one would speak to their oldest friend, for more casual and honest than he’d ever spoken to another human. He took his precious passenger with him out to the balcony to inspect the main hive box. Once outside, the wind seemed to materialize from nothing, so the little queen moved from one perch to the next- nestled against the fibers above his heart. With great care Dorian looked into the box and examined the various odds and ends of the hive, taking note of the many new larva and the honey he would need to collect upon his next day visit.

He’d only been growing this colony for a year and a half, but his bees adored him sincerely. It was in part due to the enchantment he had learned and placed on the Queen. A simply domestication spell many used to create lifelong companions from the more common pets of society. With the spell at hand and a few tweaks here and there, Dorian had made it possible to create a bond with the Queen, and then from there the rest of the colony followed.

He was in all honestly, Very proud of himself. The Estate’s foliage benefited the most from this symbiotic relationship, and throughout the year the Pavus Gardens were the envy of Minrathous. He was Very proud.

The bond was solid too, Dorian knew that every little piece of his Queen was dedicated to her keeper. And he adored her just as much.

With a little flourish the boy produced a jar of watered down syrup from his person, he dipped the tip of his pinky into the mixture and deftly re-lidded the jar before offering the digit to the insect against his chest. Without pause the Queen accepted the gift, far past needing the bribe of the enchantments spell to be coaxed into cooperation.

The boy sat upon a stack of crates and looked out at the ocean with open eyes,”I had another dream my dear. I woke up and I just had to come tell you about it.” The bee moves from pinky to knuckles again, and then she settles in the crook of his ring finger. “It was the lighthouse of course. And just as always I saw the path down to it’s gates. But this time I actually got to the gates!” he was excited about this new development, it had been one of the most vivid dreams he’d had to date.

“On the way down, I was stopped by the most beautiful flower…” he sighs and recalls the image in careful detail. “It was golden, like freshly polished gold coins. Big fat petals with prettiest blush as they all connected. The filament was the cleanest white though. You’d love it, it looked like a perfect throne.” He hummed and gently swayed with the breeze.

“It must be a lily breed, that large shape. But the colors spoke of rosacea. And the smell, I could smell it my dear...it was wonderful.” he beamed at the whispering Queen and watched her dance in shared excitement. “I’m going to find it, and I’ll make it if I must.” he nods resolutely before ushering the bee back to his lapel and reaching for his carefully stowed away sketchbook.

While the use of the cottage wasn’t quite secret, what exactly he did in the cottage was his knowledge to have alone. The book contained every sketch he’d ever made since he’d begun his herbology research. It was his way of not only channeling but training his primary magic without the scrutiny of his father at his back.

------ PRIMARY MAGIC

-----

When Dorian was five, he awoke from the most awful dream. The little boy had been so frightened that when his eyes opened, they were filled with bitter tears. And his small voice had been screaming out from the darkness so sharply that when he tried to call for help all that came out was a hoarse shout.

Entirely juxtaposed to his nightmare was the waking world in which he found himself.

His room had exploded. Every corner from top to bottom had been filled with foliage. From thick brambles to soft petalage, not an inch was spared by the sudden explosive burst of magick. His bed frame was covered in a heavy layer of honeysuckle and laurel, and the smell was so thick and cloying that he could taste it past his tears. The covers themselves had been covered, soft emerald moss and delicate purple flowers that haloed around his head and saturated his pillows with a sleepy, heavy scent.

If it had been any other occasion, he would have been delighted. As it was, he was still deathly afraid.

He was choking on his sobs when his ‘Keeper’ can rushing into his suite. She was half awake herself, but the alarm coming from her ward was enough to wrench her to awareness quickly.

She had been at his side since the moment he entered this world, deftly filling in for his mother when she had been too exhausted and weakened by birth to properly care for him past those first precious minutes. And beyond that time, when it was simply easier to pass the little boy off to available hands when he became too much to handle for the mother.

Her name was Amaranthine, and she was by far the most well treated and cared for of the Pavus’ servants and slaves. Something that at first had carried over as a Thalrassian motif, but quickly morphed into something more sentimental as time went by and she more of it with the young Pavus heir.

So much time in fact, that it was “Ama!” he shouted for through his terror- neither parent coming to mind in his time of need.

The boy clung to elf, who gently rocked him back and forth and hushed his frantic sobs. She had of course been shocked to see his room turned into a personal greenhouse, but living with powerful mages often dulled one’s sense to magical wonderments.

His parents were as well conditioned, but only one was pleased.

His Mother had rushed in at a servants beckon, and upon entering the room her eyes went wide with amazement. Soft reverence in every touch as she examined the petals and stems that seemed to root from non existence. She was delighted by the growths, already her mind tripping over itself for answers.

Halward however, was not pleased at all. The man called for every single growth to be removed and destroyed. His outrage was palpable, but Aquinea’s stubborn was of equal measure. She demanded that the flowers be preserved, and that what could would be planted in her personal garden. A large portion of these flowers didn’t even grow in the Imperium and she refused to waste such a perfect opportunity for study. Halward had scoffed, “Study? It’s an abomination!” he cried and in a rage he started ripping vines from the walls. He was shouting and cursing, incensed that his heir would be wasted as some botanist instead of the proud Altus he was born as.

One’s primary magic was one’s first step to power. Halward Pavus had come into his magic at Ten, when he set his Mother’s old apple tree ablaze the day its roots tripped him. Aquinea Thalrassian’s first spell was ice, to the utmost dismay of the poor servant who had tried to wake the girl from a nightmare when she was eight. The hand at her shoulder had been frozen solid…

In the world of the Imperium, Fire, Ice, and Electricity were considered high schools of combat magic, and deemed therefore to be standard for high ranking families to have as their primary magic. Mid ranked magic was Healing, Spirit Work, and the more Physical, like force magic. Aesthetic magic ranked low but not nearly as low as botany. Growing flowers could not make a strong magister, it would never make a strong archon.

Dorian was only five years old, and barely an hour into his magic- when his father began hiding pieces of him away from the rest of the world. This wouldn’t connect until many years later, and it certainly didn’t register to a scared little boy still clinging to his nurse with fright. His horror amplified by the fighting between the adults he was supposed to find comfort from.

It wasn’t until after they left that he found his comfort, quietly telling his keeper what the dreams had shown him.

She had to curl around him, tucked into a spare bed chamber while the room was cleared of the residual magic and foliage. She was humming something soft and kind, and coaxed the truth from him easily.

“I saw...the fade,” he whispered. Terror still laced his voice and the woman paused. “The...the real fade,” a violent shudder wracked his little frame and he hid his face against her neck. “There..there were demons and spirits and...and..”his voice hitched and he started to sob again. “Oh...Ama they were so scary...they..they tried to take me and I was so scared…”he sobs and his Keeper does her best to calm him, but she was frightened dreadfully for her precious ward.

It was a startling fear, to hear a child had gotten so close to the fade and faced it alone. She wanted to soothe away his fear and protect, but how could she protect him from within his own mind?

His little voice spoke up again, and it chilled her deeply. “I saw...auntie..she was there too…”

Dorian’s Aunt had been the adventurous sort. But as such, she died rather tragically. Lost to the world forever after a simple expedition went completely south and her body was never seen from again. No one had been sure of her demise..and yet…

“She was so cold…” he touched his check with wide frightful eyes. “Her hands were so cold...like mother’s magic. Ama gently covered his hand in her own and held him tighter. “She didn’t look all there...like only half of her was colored in…”

A spirit. The spirit of his dead aunt. What in Maker’s name that meant the elf had no clue but it still unsettled her.

“What happened my dear? After she touched you?” She smoothed his hair and tilted his face to meet hers. He frowned,”She...she told me to go home. She kissed my head like you do when it’s bedtime- and then I was falling...and I woke up…”

He shivered again and tucked back into her, and she was left to silently worry about what this would mean for her charge.

For a while, it had meant he was just deeply connected to his magic. His father seemed, satisfied, at the news. Ama had taken her worry straight to the heads of the family with further concern for Dorian's safety in his sleep. So young, it was incredibly likely that he was in danger from possession and spirits. If he was already being accosted by such horrid creatures, surely it meant his mana reserves where deep and his magic was bound to be quite powerful regardless of his primary attributes.

But when it became clear it was more than simply a prodigal level of magic reserves, that something far more powerful fueled his dreams...that’s when it became apparent Dorian was something entirely unpredicted.

It became clear when Dorian happily recalled the most wonderful dream he had had. He recounted in full colorful detail how he’d been walking along the most beautiful beach, and that he walked until he came upon the most grand and enchanting lighthouse.

#dorians song of bees #ill finish this eventually promise #and also add the rest bc its goes on FOREVER #i wanted to study how he reacted with the other companions as well #so theres a whole section of that written somewhere else #da: i

0 notes

love-with-you-i-have-everything · 6 years

Text

all I want for christmas 20/24

So I found a series of Christmas prompts posted by @justablobfish and decided I wanted to give it a go. The post has 24 prompts, so there should be one every day until Christmas Eve!

Also found on Ao3 here.

20th ~ It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

A/N: IT'S NEARLY CHRISTMAS! Today's prompt was Christmas traditions, so I've gone back to our favourite little family. Enjoy!

Holiday traditions were a big deal in the Swan-Jones-Charming-Mills family.

On the first day of December, all the kids would crack into their advent calendars, screaming and carrying on about what shape the chocolate was that morning. Elizabeth had a Disney one, that, much to her grandmother’s simultaneous horror and joy, featured her make-believe counterpart front and centre. Charlie had a Star Wars calendar, featuring all the characters from the original trilogy obviously; Emma would go into an early grave before her son said he preferred the prequels.

Neal, Robin, and little Gideon all had one too, cars, Mickey Mouse, and cartoon characters adorning them. The kids would meet up every day and tell everyone what they had gotten.

“It’s like an early present!” Elizabeth had exclaimed one morning.

December second rolled around and the Christmas hype still lingered. It was that day that the Swan-Jones family would go out searching for the perfect Christmas tree to put up the next day. Before they’d had children, Emma and Killian had found this a relatively easy task, neither of them particularly fussy when it came to size and shape. Elizabeth and Charlie however, had a lot to say.

“That one’s too small!” yelled Elizabeth, pointing to a shorter, tamer tree in the corner. Charlie silently nodded in agreement as the pair took off, weaving their way through the mazes of trees. They picked one eventually, about two hours later, the four of them cold and wet, but mostly happy with their selection.

The next day it was time to put up and decorate said tree. Charlie and Elizabeth would argue over the colour scheme, despite the fact that Emma had a preselected box of baubles and tinsels already out, ready to be placed on the fern. They all took turns hanging up the decorations, Killian stretching to reach the top portion of the tree.

At the end, after everyone had contributed, and the tree looked like a self-proclaimed mess, Killian would pick Charlie up on his shoulders and let him put the star on top of the tall structure. This was Charlie’s special thing, and everywhere, Elizabeth would complain. Every year, Emma had successfully found something to distract her, letting her switch the lights on for the first time, or put the first present under the tree.

That night, they would all sit on the couch surrounding the tree, the four of them snuggled up as best they could. Killian would be next to Emma, an arm around her shoulders, with Elizabeth next to him and Charlie next to Emma.

‘Next to’ was generous; ‘on top of’ was probably more accurate.

On the fourth of December, a new tradition was added. After the first few Christmases in Storybrooke, living in their own house, Emma and Killian had noticed a new trend. It appeared Christmas lights on houses was becoming more and more popular, even expected in their area of town. So, on the fourth of December, Killian got up on the roof and decorated the large blue and white house with hundreds of lights. The kids would stay on the ground under Emma’s watchful eye.

“We really are big enough to go onto the roof with Papa, Mama.” Charlie would insist, backed up by an insistent nod from Elizabeth. Emma sighed, a big smile on her face, “Maybe next year, you two.”

She said that every year. The kids were starting to catch on.

So one year, Killian ascended the ladder with Elizabeth clung tightly and securely on his shoulders. Turned out, it was a lot higher than she’d expected and, with a little help from Emma’s magic, made her way safely down back to the ground. Charlie had still insisted he was big enough, and got a turn himself.

Emma had known the kid would have been fine up there; he’d been climbing the rigging on the Jolly Roger as soon as he’d learnt to walk. They all gathered out the front that night, looks of awe on their faces when they saw the house light up, the kid’s faces lighting up like nothing Emma and Killian had ever seen. Killian pressed a kiss into Emma’s temple, and they simply basked in the little moment of happiness.

Over the next few days, Christmas carols could be heard all through the home, mostly from Killian’s singing rather than a recording. Emma would spend her days away from the station decorating the interior of the house, baking gingerbread at least once a week. That was a feat in itself, Emma Swan baking. But she had always loved the scent of ginger spreading through foster homes when she was Elizabeth’s age, so the least she could do for her kids was give them the same thing.

No matter how oddly shaped they were.

On December fifteenth, ten days before the big day, Killian would clear off the Jolly Roger and take them out sailing. Well, maybe not sailing, what with the often harsh winter weather. But they would pack a lunch and sit out on the deck, just enjoying the time as a little family. Elizabeth would sword fight with Emma while Killian let Charlie ‘steer’ the ship. It was their little family tradition. Most years, when it did snow, they’d stop by the park on the way home, making snowmen and snow angels until the evening.

They’d return cold and wet, but happy as they all collapsed in Emma and Killian’s bed.

On Christmas Eve, Storybrooke put on their annual Christmas parade, one of Charlie’s favourite parts of the holidays. The way his little face lit up as the floats went down main street was enough to fill Emma and Killian’s hearts for the rest of the night. Elizabeth and Neal ran up and down the street, the pair famous in the little town for being the biggest troublemakers around. Everyone knew it, but couldn’t help but love them, waving and laughing as they ran by.

It was nights like that, the whole town and a big family around them, that Emma and Killian were lost for words. They would often simply look at each other, completely in wonder at what their lives had turned into. Elizabeth and Charlie were happy, Emma’s parents and brother were happy, and they were happy.

Finally.

After the kids had gone to bed, and Emma and Killian had managed to calm them down enough to sleep, they would creep downstairs and put all the presents under the tree. Killian happily drank the rum the kids had left out for ‘Santa’, and the rest was left for Elizabeth and Charlie to discover the next morning.

Christmas was a big deal for the whole family, breakfast at Regina’s, lunch at Emma and Killian’s, and dinner at Snow and David’s. At the end of the day, no matter where they were and what they were doing, they went around the group and shared what they were happy about, what they were thankful for that holiday season.

Every year they said the same things, but it didn’t matter. It needed to be said either way. Maybe the traditions were quaint and repetitive, but it was what they did, year in year out.

As a family.

#mywriting #cschristmas #captain swan #csff #fanfiction #ouat

0 notes