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astrogre · 5 months

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What gifts to buy for each Venus sign

Christmas is among us, my favourite season and time of the year. Venus is the planet of love, by nature it can display what we like to receive from others but if you don’t know their Venus or the house it’s in you can try to look at the persons Sun sign instead but Venus is ideal.

A gift based on their:

Sun sign will make them feel seen and like you know them well, it will be a gift they may appreciate

Venus sign is all they’ve ever desired it’s the pinnacle of their ideal gift. Especially as Venus represents how we like to receive and experience love

Aries/ 1H Venus

Gym membership, running shoes, thrill seeking experiences like tickets to bungee jumping, rock climbing, a skydiving event, gym outfit, tickets to their favourite artist, tickets to festival, cool lighter, archery classes, tickets to sports games, a shirt with their teams logo or merch from their favourite artists, scissors set, cooking tools, hair styling products like hairspray, hair dye, Fitbit/apple watch, knives set, sports gear, heavy bass headphones, tickets for those room smashing experiences, take them clay pigeon shooting, family destroying board games like Risk or Catan, diy tattoo kit, diy piercing kit, theme park tickets.

Aries Venus are by nature thrill seekers, Aries is ruled by the head and has 1st house influences, they can certainly appreciate something that ignites passion, they are impulsive and quick by nature to pursue what they desire. They need gifts that match their decisive nature and to let out that pent up energy they have in them, I honestly think experiences are the best for them. Or a box of hair dye for their impulsive moments

Taurus/ 2H Venus

Hire a chef or take them to a really good restaurant for a 5 course meal that serves orgasmic food and has impeccable visuals/atmosphere OR you can even arrange a 7 course homemade meal with the finest of recipes! , fine jewellery adorned with a gemstone, culinary experiences, cooking classes, kitchenware, go to fragrantica.com and find a high quality perfume to give, premium home decor, art, antique items, antique furniture, comfortable cosy clothing, hot water bottle, gardening tools, plants, selection of seeds for their garden, diffuser, essential oils, desserts like baklava/ferro rocher, luxury goods, wellness retreat subscription, day at the spa, tea set, comfy velvet winter pillows and bed sheets

Oh my Taurus natives, they know how to break a bank for Christmas and if not they can enjoy luxury on a budget! They enjoy the finer things of life of course Venus ruled, they know how to induge in pleasures and satisfaction. Due to the earthy influence they have a green finger and a natural affinity with plants and gardening, they may love flowers or want to grow plants themselves. Taurus venuses are rather easy to gift, if you know them they usually have a vice, it may be sleep, food or pure laziness, get them something according to their vice and they will treasure it.

Gemini/ 3H Venus

Really cool stationary, Spotify subscription, comedy show tickets, books from their favourite genre, a notebook, Grammarly subscription, cards against humanity board game, Duolingo subscription, multiplayer games, home kit recording studio, language learning stuff, calligraphy classes, kindle, portable car charger, Bluetooth speaker, karaoke machine, suitcase, travel accessories, a musical instrument, sealing wax kit, creative hobby supplies, microphone, podcasting equipment, audio editing software, a car, vr headset, Nintendo online subscription, Netflix/HBO/youtube/crunchyroll subscription

Gemini rules communication, short journeys and social engagement. Blessing these natives with tools to enhance their pleasant hobbies will make them swoon in gratitude, if you want to get them something make it engaging and whimsical. These natives are ruled by mercury and always welcome something that requires the mind.

Cancer/ 4H Venus

A cooking set, baking set, comfort food, commission artwork of the family, family photos, some really nice home decor, a keepsake/musical box adorned with velvets and soft materials that will store sentimental objects, a locket necklace, family recipe book make a recipe book of all their favourite foods and some foods you know they’d like, soft fluffy blanket, the family heirloom, hand crafted quilt, hand painted ceramic mug, animal crossing game, sims 4 game, games relating to the home, bring and fly in family that are far away as a surprise and cook their favourite meal together, household utilities, lush bath products, a personal chef for a day, a personal butler for a day, custom family tree art, ancestry DNA kit (please be careful though once you use them they keep your data and if they get hacked your information is out there), home movie night, comfy slippers and pyjamas, family board games, this christmas make them Christmas dinner this time.

Cancer rules the home and there’s nothing more appreciated by a cancer Venus than things that remind them of this. They are by nature expressive and nurturing, this time let them be pampered!

Leo/ 5H Venus

Hair care products, gift card for their favorite store, make them an edit no joke like a TikTok edit that makes them look really cool, one of those light up mirrors or a pretty handheld one if they don’t have one already, book them a photoshoot together if they don’t like the camera maybe post them on your social media and show affection for these bold natives, theatre tickets, bold sunglasses, luxury watch, good jewellery, VIP experiences like backstage passes or reservation to exclusive invite only restaurants, designer clothing that is a prestigious brand they love, commission style artwork, make them a playlist of songs that reminds you of them, fine wine, personalised fragrance creation that allows them to create their own signature fragrance, personalised makeup makeover, hire a stylist for them

A perfect gift for Leo’s need to have an element of self expression, luxury and incorporate their personality that garners attention from peers. They need a gift that makes them feel special, something tailored specifically for them that cannot be gifted to anyone else. Personalised gifts do well either this placement too. When I think of these natives I just think of that Meghan Trainor music video “Me Too” watch that and you’ll get their vibe.

Virgo/ 6H Venus

Skincare products, a blender for smoothies, lots of cleaning products, multi purpose aesthetic storage containers, Quora or chat gpt subscription (these guys like to be well informed), give them scientifically researched bath products that have all that vitamin breakdown qualities, make them a notion template to help them plan, quality office supplies like a desk organiser or chair, practical fitness gear like a yoga mat, a fitness tracker, get them a personal nutritionist, tailored meal prep services, bookshelf organiser system, a stylish briefcase, home office makeover (BUT PLEASE GET THEIR PERMISSION FIRST), online course subscription, digital subscription to news feed, you can never go wrong with practical things, an ikea haul, Costco membership, minimalist decor, multi vitamins, a precision watch, set of labelling and sorting tools, a neat tidy chess board, get them a nice little pet, honestly for some reason whenever I think of Virgos I think of matcha. Get them something matcha based.

Virgo Venus natives need gifts that resemble their routine and organisation, they can be rather difficult to purchase for since they have such a specific taste in mind. Gift cards are practical for them but they really need something that allows them to be more prepared. Take them out for comparison price shopping like say if you want to get them a sofa tell them you’ll take them out to Costco, Amazon, ikea, and compare the best ones. They are also very clean and efficient.

Libra Venus/ 7H Venus

Trending Make up like the fenty hot chocolit heat lip gloss, Korean skincare products, beautiful piece of art, a wedding ring 😏, bouquet of flowers, take them to a beautiful botanical garden, fashionable accessories like a silk scarf, books and courses on design, take them to a couples romantic date, a couples workshop, write them a love letter, museum date, tickets to an art exhibition, fine dining, an astrology synastry reading, if they’re single set up a blind date with someone who you KNOW they would like (make sure they’re handsome/pretty), couples retreat, love coach Patreon subscription, pottery/painting classes, relationship podcast subscription, relationship psychology books, fine fragrance/cologne

Libra is ruled by Venus and 7th house, all things related to love beauty and pleasure align with this native, even if they are single they have a natural gift for delving into relationships. Make sure that whatever gift you give them it is pleasing and sensual

Scorpio/ 8H Venus

Intimate gifts, a psychological crime documentary playlist like Epstein island documentary or YouTubers who speak of renowned cult leaders, personalised astrology reading, a dark seductive fragrance, dark artwork, dominance and submission guide book, shadow work journal with a lock on it, dark poetry and literature, escape room adventure tickets, monopoly game, dungeons and dragons game equipment, bdsm accessories, personalised erotic art, leather/latex clothing, bonding activities, empowering books like 48 Laws of Power, martial arts training, taxidermy, personal development workshops, intense workout equipment like a punching bag, chess, daggers, locks on their door or for their belongings like installing a lock for their drawers, buy them a ring camera and subscription, wine tasting experience

Give them something sultry and deep, it has to be psychological and empowering. They are not impressed by superficial gifts that mean nothing to them. They really like gifts that allow them to explore their nature and the darker aspects of existence.

Sagittarius/ 9H Venus

A scratch off map that allows you to scratch off countries you’ve been to, a surprise holiday where you take them abroad, Duolingo subscription, a wanderlust journal for them to document their experiences, passport accessories, an electric guitar, drums, take them to a fireworks display or do one at home for them, a telescope, a drone, binoculars, philosophical books or religious books based on their own beliefs and religion, running shoes, horse riding in the sunset experience, musical instruments, motivational and positive affirmations book or make some for them yourself, a book collection of all their motivational and positive messages they have said, a compass, pay for their tuition for a course they’ve always wanted, traveling stuff like suitcases, pillow for travelling, a portable flask, a disposable camera, a Polaroid camera, a tent, tickets to a cultural festival, hiking gear, skiing gear, camping gear, sketchbook, a donation in their name

Sagittarius Venus and 9H venuses love the concept of exploration whether it be in the mind or physically, the best gift you could give them is one that allows them to take in so much culture, information and experiences.

Capricorn/ 10H Venus

Customisable credit card (CUCU is a good site for this), a nice power suit like business attire, vintage pocket calculator, cufflinks or a tie, formal shoes, pay for their CV to be analysed by professionals in their industry, elegant timeless clothing and jewellery, make them business cards, get them a corporate slave (an assistant will do), pay for business class flights for their next trip abroad, project management courses, tickets to Ted Talk event, take them to and big them up at networking and entrepreneurial opportunities, a sleek desk, submit their work for trophies and awards, quality furniture, Starbucks or their fave coffee place gift cards, a fountain pen, personalised desk name plate, professional photoshoot, designer accessories like a Swiss watch, leather wallet, cheque book, pay for a professional calligrapher to design their signature, time management software

Our sweet cap Venuses and 10Hers need their professional acknowledgment, give them anything timeless and a way for them to better themselves. They love being the best of the best so give them things that support their ambitions.

Aquarius/ 11H Venus

A 3D printer, high tech phone, a gamer console, smart home device like Alexa, chat gpt subscription, AI art pieces of them, rubix cube, VR headset, bespoke one of a kind art piece, tickets to a science technology conference or musem, networking events, phone case, futuristic home decor, membership to an niche club their interested in, mini indoor garden like a plant terrarium, pay for an astronomy stargazing experience for them, alt clothing, goal setting journal, a camaraderie for their friendships can be a bracelet for an example, tickets to a unique workshop according to their niche interests, video editing software, a unique invention prototype for the industry their interested in say if it were cars then a mini Tesla or something, volunteer together, design software, film festival tickets, social cause merchandise, unique fashion piece, astronomy kit, an AI boyfriend or girlfriend, take them a Ted talk.

Always remember the specific niche interests of these natives they like things that are very niche and so sometimes asking them is actually the best thing to do. But make sure it’s something they’re passionate about not all of these natives live tech but they certainly are innovative.

Pisces/ 12H Venus

Seashell necklace, watercolour paints, fantasy book collection, their favourite mangas, handmade artwork, stained glass window art, dream interpretation book, flowerpedia book, vinyls, yoga mat, contact lenses, tickets to their favourite artist like mitski or the sort, create a playlist for them that’s about fantasy and imagination, they might like Disney consider taking them to Disneyland, windchime, subscription to mindfulness app, astrology book, go to the aquarium together, windchimes, art supplies, a dream journal, sound healing instruments, pay for their spiritual retreat, zen garden decor, a mystical music box, water fountain, take them to a mesmerising body of water, prayer mats, diary, write them a heartfelt letter of how amazing they are, take them to a nature retreat, wearable art

Dreamy imaginative gifts would be perfect for these people, they need gifts that allow them to appreciate their escape world where they have a reality that’s just better than here. Give them things that are as beautiful as their inner world.

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elsanna-week · 3 years

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Thicker than water [3/3] - Prompt: Healing

Authors' notes:

Written for Elsanna Week 2021 prompt: Healing

Thank you for your patronage so far. A quick shout out to cs6ice and JYN044 for beta-ing this piece. It's been a struggle to write this given my RL situation, but I saw it through, thanks to your lovely support. I am resuming my multi-chapter story, You Belong to Me soon so if you are into War AU, check it out here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23067358

Chapter 3: Finale

Ana miscalculated. A red energy blast knocked her on her chest, hurling the mage through the stone wall. She cried out as white-hot pain exploded at the bottom of her skull. Her world was spinning — she was at the cusp of blacking out. Her tired eyes blinked, willing herself to stay conscious. She could not afford to pass out right now. There was too much at stake here, including her Servant’s safety.

Focus, Ana. This fight is far from over.

Just when Anatasia was about to regain her composure, her keen eyes spotted a blur of motion entering her periphery. She lunged sideways only in time to dodge several blade-like projectiles flying towards her. The mage rolled away and sought cover inside a narrow gap underneath a heap of rock debris.

“Foolish girl. You are just prolonging your death.”

Her temporary shelter shook as her enemy rained fury from above.

“You are the worst opponent I have faced so far,” Morgan mocked. “Why don’t you grow a spine and fight me like a true Master? Or you are just as useless as your Servant?”

Anatasia chewed her lower lip. Things were not looking good for her. It would only be a matter of time before the makeshift fortress collapsed under the Sorceress’s continuous assault. She would have to come out of hiding and face her enemy head-on.

The grinding pain below her chest was a grim reminder of her precarious situation. Had it not been for Elsa’s ice armour, she would have been paralysed or died of internal bleeding when the Berserker struck her with his club. The impact was so severe that it left visible cracks on the armour. Without Elsa’s magic to reinforce the structure, the armour would soon break. Being vulnerable chilled Anatasia to the core.

A glint of gold caught her attention. Her eyes traced it to a necklace hanging around her neck. She fingered the diamond-shaped pendant, swallowing a lump forming in her throat. Pabbie’s words rang in her mind.

“The Aeternus amplifies the user’s Mana, giving the person unlimited supply.” The shopkeeper pressed the bridge of his spectacles, his ominous gaze piercing. “However, a word of caution. The pendant feeds on the wearer’s life force. If you are not careful, your body will collapse.” He placed the jewellery in her hand and closed it. “Use it with care, Ana. Once it’s activated, there is no turning back.”

She clasped the pendant in her palm and yanked it off.

“I’m sorry, Pabbie.”

A green hue enveloped her body as she uttered an incantation. Rich Mana swelled inside her magic circuits, evidenced by the raised markings on her forearms. Her pain ebbed away into nothingness.

She smiled.

It’s time to up my game.

Anatasia cried out as she threw her fist forward. A crackle of lightning shot out from her fingertips and flew towards her enemy.

Sorceress Morgan evaded with ease. “Your tricks won’t work on me, girl. I am aeons more experienced than you. Argh!” Her bragging was cut short by sharp pain from her back. The Servant crashed into the ground with an earth-shattering impact.

Anatasia snorted. “You talk too much.” She cracked her knuckles and dived in like a hawk. As soon as Sorceress Morgan emerged from the rubble, Ana produced electricity from her fingertips and landed on her enemy. An explosion followed, forming clouds of dust in the surrounding area.

Did I get her?

A blurring shadow zoomed past Anatasia. She backed off and crossed her arms. A translucent screen appeared in front of the mage, just in time to shield herself from a cluster of energy balls. In the subsequent fraction of a second, she dissolved her barrier and retaliated with a few thunderbolts. The opposing elements collided with an explosive bang, littering the ground with shattered fragments. Anatasia’s keen eyes spotted an opening amid the chaos.

The Sorceress seemed to be disoriented by the blast. The mage charged forward with sparks of electricity crackling on her fingers. Their gaze met for a brief second before Anatasia somersaulted and plunged her fists into the Sorceress’s back. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the older woman chuckled.

“Is this the best you can do?”

Blinding pain exploded at her midsection. She glanced down and saw a dagger lodged into her torso. Blood splattered from her mouth, staining the ground beneath. She staggered a little as her body took in the shock and fell backwards. Before she could react, cruel fingers clamped a fistful of locks and yanked upwards, forcing the wounded mage to face her. Teal eyes widened like a saucer plate at the sight of her menacing glare. A hand connected with her cheek, the sudden force snapped her head to the side.

“Arrogant bitch!” the Sorceress spat. Black spots filled her vision. “I wanted to let you off with a quick death, but now I have changed my mind.” Anatasia let out a hoarse cry as Morgan grabbed the pommel and twisted the blade. “I will make you rue the day you crossed me, Mage. Now sing for me.”

Anatasia flailed as her frame levitated in mid-air. The pain Anatasia was experiencing multiplied tenfold with a flick of the Sorceress’s wrist. An invisible force forced her to spread eagle; each limb stretched to the limit. White-hot pain frayed her nerves when her joints gave into the tension and popped out of their sockets. She could not hold back an ear-piercing scream as her arms and legs twisted further, wringing her like wet laundry. Tears of anguish poured from her red-rimmed eyes.

“I wonder how long it will take to break you down.” Morgan hovered next to the tormented Mage, stroking her cheek. “You will make a fine addition to my collection of puppets once I possess you.”

Anatasia nearly blacked out for a second when she was rammed into the ground, face first. Her nose fractured with a sickening crunch. Blood trickled down her throat. She turned sideways to expel the tangy liquid from congesting her airway, but to no avail. Her lungs burned from the lack of oxygen.

“You don’t get the luxury to pass out, girl. Not when I am having so much fun with you…”

A blood-curdling shriek ripped out from Anatasia’s throat. An invisible pressure was crushing her organs, threatening to smash them like a tin can. Sorceress Morgan played with her victim like a fiddle; she pulled her from the edge of unconsciousness to a full-blown agony under her ministrations, leaving the poor Mage with no reprieve from her suffering.

Please, just let me die.

Begging for the Sorceress to grant her a quick death seemed to be a desirable proposition at the moment. All she needed to do was to surrender.

I’m so sorry, Elsa. I failed you.

Anatasia chewed her lower lips in disdain. Shame engulfed her as the words of defeat played in her mind. She wished the ground would crack open and swallow her whole.

“Morgan, I…”

Before she finished, thick rows of ice spikes sprouted from the ground like bamboo shoots. Much to her delight, the ice barricade severed the Servant’s control over Anatasia, providing the wounded Mage much-needed respite.

“Ana!”

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a pair of arms wrapped around her.

“Please, no more…” she sobbed. Her mind did not register that the pair of arms were wrapped tight around her. A familiar scent triggered a whirlpool of emotions inside the young Mage. When the Arctic orbs came into Anatasia’s line of sight, she knew everything was going to be fine. She buried her head at the crook of Elsa’s neck, nuzzling for comfort.

Elsa’s here. She is not an illusion.

“Why did you…How?”

“I’m sorry, Ana. I can’t abandon you like this.”

Anatasia’s sharp ears caught Elsa letting out a soft hiss. She noticed slight tremors on her frame. Pabbie’s words came back to her. It was the counter effect of the Command Spell she had placed on her Servant. Elsa defied her commands, causing her a lot of pain.

“Elsa, you are hurting!” She struggled to wriggle out of Elsa’s hold, not wanting to cause more harm than necessary. “Get away from me!” The Servant paid no heed to her words, tightening her embrace around Anatasia.

“No, Ana.” Elsa retorted. “I am not leaving you.”

The Mage shook her head. “You will only hurt more if you are near me. The Command spell…”

Elsa interjected.

“A little pain doesn’t bother me. Besides...” Her heart stopped beating when Elsa lowered her head and caught her lips with hers. Shades of pink coloured their cheeks when they broke their kiss.

“I love you too much to let you go.”

Elsa’s words sent Anatasia to cloud nine. When their foreheads touched, she could no longer hold back her tears. All the tension bled out in hot tears streaming down Anatasia’s face. Elsa’s fingers intertwined with hers.

“Let’s get you out of here, Ana.”

With a flick of a wrist, Elsa teleported them away. Her transportation circle reappeared at an unknown location and spat them out. Elsa’s quick reflexes kicked in; she manoeuvred her body so she would cushion Anatasia as they crash-landed. Her heart stopped when she saw her friend sob hard, fearing that she had injured her in their hastened escape.

“And..?”

She shook her head. “What about the Grail? We are just one Servant away from summoning it.”

Anatasia might not have knowledge of her Servant’s past, but she knew how much the Grail meant to Elsa. Her strong-headed friend had been giving her best since day one, pushing herself in every battle they fought. It pained Anatasia to see her Servant endangering herself for the sake of duty.

“I carry an unforgivable sin, Ana. The Holy Grail is my only chance at redemption.”

Anatasia had never understood why Elsa was hell-bent on finding the Holy Grail. She recalled the flash of determination in her Servant’s eyes when she uttered those words. Something about Elsa’s unwavering resolve prevented Anatasia from pressing for answers. She trusted her Servant to share her story whenever Elsa was ready.

If winning the war would bring her friend eternal happiness, she would support her without a doubt. As much as she loved the woman, she did not have the heart to let her friend astray. Yet, the selfish part of her wanted to keep Elsa to herself. Unlike Elsa, Anatasia had nothing left to lose. Had it not been her moral compass, the Mage would have damned the universe to keep her Servant from harm’s way without batting an eye. Alas, Elsa’s well-being came first. Everything else was irrelevant to her.

The blonde caressed her cheeks. “I’ve had an epiphany. Some things are best left behind…” Anatasia shuddered when Elsa’s thumb brushed the corner of her lips. “And sometimes you need to take a leap of faith.”

“Elsa, are you sure about this?” she asked. It would not sit well with her conscience if this were a rash decision made at the expense of her Servant’s goals.

“Yes.”

That was all the assurance Anatasia needed. The moment was interrupted when her companion applied too much pressure, earning a yelp from the Mage.

“Oh, dear.. I’m so sorry.”

A frown etched on Elsa’s forehead as she examined the damage done on her Master. A slight involuntary hiss of pain escaped Anatasia’s lips when Elsa applied pressure to find out the situation. She chewed her bottom lip in disdain at the blotches of purple appearing on her skin. Some places were worse-off. One of the dislocated bones had pierced through her skin at the hip area. Elsa shot Anatasia an apologetic look.

“This is going to hurt.”

Her Master gave a weak nod. She let out a long sigh, resigning herself to the imminent pain. She fixed her gaze to Elsa’s, drawing strength from her Arctic orbs. I trust you. Unspoken words reflected behind Anatasia’s teal coloured eyes and reinforced Elsa’s vigilance. She wanted to make the experience for her Master as pleasant as she could, given the circumstances. The last thing she wanted was to cause additional pain to Anatasia.

Her left leg was Elsa’s priority. A thin sheet of ice encased her open wound with a flick of her wrist. She then laid her Master on the ground, propping her head against a flat rock. She pinned her weight on her hips while her other hand secured her knee. She chanced a glance at her friend for reassurance before getting to work. Anatasia gave her a weak smile, head bobbing in consent. The redhead did not register when Elsa moved in one quick motion, snapping the dislocated bone back into its original position. White-hot pain flashed at the affected area, but it lasted barely a fraction of a second, leaving her no opportunity to cry out.

S oft lips pressed against her damp temple, trying to reassure her. “You are doing good, Ana. Just a little more.” Elsa’s heart broke watching her Master trying to compose herself. “Please continue. I can handle it.” The slight tremor in her voice betrayed her words. The sudden flinching when she touched her was a telltale sign. Anatasia was still pretty shaken from her ordeal. Yet, despite what she had been through, Anatasia still soldiered on putting a brave face when Elsa worked on her. Come hell or high water, Anatasia vowed to bring Morgan down and end this nightmare once and for all.

Anatasia had exhausted her last bastion of strength by the time Elsa finished tending to her. She could not help herself; her body sagged into the blonde’s embrace like matching puzzle pieces. She suspected Elsa’s magic had a sedative effect on her; she could feel it in her tired eyes. Her limbs felt responsive again, despite being heavy and sore. Being able to feel her hands and legs again felt alien to her. She stood with a particular difficulty but gradually regained her balance with each step. Her movements, much to her chagrin, were still clumsy like a toddler’s. Frustrated at her snail-like progress, she pushed herself even more.

Elsa clutched onto Anatasia’s forearm when she misstepped and slipped. “Whoa, not too fast, Ana,” she remarked, hoisting her to a sitting position. Her sharp ears caught a faint sound - a mix between a sob and a choke. She lowered her head to meet her eyes, but Ana diverted her gaze. “Ana, what’s wrong?” Worry tightened Elsa’s chest when the Mage stayed silent.

“I screwed everything up, didn’t I?” Anatasia let out a mirthless laugh. “This happens when you trust an orphan girl to play the hero.” She wrung her hands together, chewing on the inside of her cheeks.

Elsa shot her a bewildered look, not comprehending her Master’s cynical remark. “What do you mean?”

Anatasia’s shoulders slumped. “I thought I had what it takes to win this war. I was wrong.” She cringed at the thought of her near-death experience. It took little effort for her to imagine her fate had Elsa not rescue her. Hot tears trailed down her cheeks as realisation set in. “I have doomed humanity with my selfishness, Elsa.”

Elsa’s sympathetic eyes landed on her Master. “Ana, it’s not your fault.” She rested one hand on her tiny back while the other reached out for Anatasia’s “You did what you thought was best for everyone.”

The Mage scoffed, pushing Elsa’s hand away. “Well, I thought wrong. And now, innocent people are going to pay for my mistakes.”

“Please don’t say that, Ana. We still have a chance.”

“Don’t.” Elsa startled. “Please, Elsa. Don’t give me false hope when there is none.” Anger and frustration seethed behind the blue orbs. “We’ve lost, Elsa.” she snapped. “No amount of words can wash the blood off my hands.” Anatasia folded her legs upwards and buried her head into her knees. Watching her Master withdraw in her shell of defeat triggered Elsa. She would not give up on her Master. Not when she got the chance to right the one thing she had spent an eternity regretting. If there was anything she learned from battling her demons, it was to have faith. And now, it was her duty to make Anatasia believe in herself again and support her until the end.

Elsa lowered herself, combing her soaked bangs with her fingers. “Ana, look at me.” she tugged, coaxing the other to meet her gaze. “I know you are scared.” She noticed a slight flinch on her friend’s figure hearing her remark. Elsa caught her hands and held them in hers. “Deep down inside, you don’t want to give up either.”

“Yes.” Crimson coloured Anatasia’s cheeks at her admission. Her grip on Elsa’s hand tightened. “I wanted to fight, but I am scared of the outcome. She already bested me once.” She clasped her hands, willing them to stop trembling. Her voice broke, “What if I fail again?”

“We’ll cross the bridge when we come to it. No matter what happens, I will be there with you.” Elsa closed the gap between them. Arctic blue eyes flashed with devotion. “We can do this, you and I.” She pulled Anatasia into an embrace.

Anatasia hugged back. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s see…. argh!”

Elsa cried out as a sharp pain lanced through her. It took a few seconds for her to register that she had been stabbed. She looked down and identified the source of her pain buried in her side. She frowned in confusion when her Master’s fingers clawed on her back, a soft giggle rumbling at the back of her throat.

“Ana...?”

Anatasia’s unpropitious behaviour triggered Elsa to look up. Her eyes widened when they locked on the Mage. Her pupils were dilated into blackness, swallowing her teal orbs. Her lips quirked into a disquieting smile. Sensing impending danger, Elsa jerked away and put some distance between them.

“What’s the matter, Elsa? Why are you avoiding me?” Her tone had changed to an eerily familiar voice. The Servant fell back into a resting stance, throwing her hands out in defence.

“Let her go, Morgan,” Elsa warned. Magic pulsated on her fingertips, crackling for release. Anger flared inside her, knowing the Sorceress Morgan had taken control over her Master.

Anatasia smirked as she sauntered over to Elsa. “You don’t get to demand things from me, Elsa.” Her hand glowed red, sparkles of electricity sizzling on her palms. “Consider this your retribution for declining my offer.” She charged forward, firing a series of thunderbolts towards the Servant.

Elsa leapt backwards, dodging the attack. Once she landed, she swung her hands—a sheet of ice encased the ground, trapping her enemy’s legs. Just as tendrils of ice sprouted out to immobilize her, she broke free of her bindings and threw her next attack. The blast caught Elsa off guard; it sent her halfway across the clearing. She exhaled a painful wheeze when her body slammed on a cluster of rocks, breaking her fall. Before she could gather herself, Anatasia appeared on top of her; a predatory glare flashing in her eyes. Elsa let out an excruciating scream when Anatasia stomped on her stomach. She almost blacked out when the heel of her boots smashed on the area where she was stabbed earlier.

Adrenaline pumping through her veins ignited her fight-or-flight instincts. Amidst her struggles, she caught hold of her enemy’s leg and froze it. She rolled to her good side and used the remaining strength in her legs to trip her adversary. Once she fell to the ground, Elsa summoned her magic and snared her in an ice cocoon. She raised her hand once more, ready to deliver her finishing blow.

“Elsa?”

Familiar teal locked gaze with Arctic blue. Excruciating pain frayed her nerves as the adrenaline rush ebbed away, causing her to double over. The ice encasing Ana vanished.

“Elsa!”

Her lips dried at the sight of Elsa’s wounds.

“What have I done?”

A soft caress on her cheeks distracted her for a moment. Ana’s heart skipped a beat.

“I should have been more vigilant. Forgive me, Ana.”

“No, Elsa. All of this is all my fault.” Her breath hitched. “Let me heal you.” She clasped Elsa’s palm, closing her eyes. Frustration coiled inside her when her magic did not heed her call. It was like lighting damp firewood.

“Don’t bother.”

Both Master and Mage shot a death glare at the offending voice. Hovering above them was Sorceress Morgan.

“My curse has locked your Mana. Your body is just a tool to do my bidding.” She snapped her fingers. Fine threads, almost invisible to the naked eye, appeared around Ana’s limbs. In just a split second, her body was no longer hers. Her concentration wavered.

“Elsa. Run!”

Elsa yelped when the sole of her Master’s boot connected to her unguarded side, sending her sprawling on the ground. Before she had the chance to retaliate, Anatasia sprung on top of her. Unforgiving fingers tightened around her neck, squeezing the life out of her. Elsa clawed for air. Amidst her struggles, tendrils of ice escaped her fingertips and froze her opponent’s skin. Anatasia backed down from the unexpected attack, releasing Elsa. The Servant took the window of opportunity to tackle her. Two sets of frost shackles emerged from the side as soon as her enemy hit the ground, immobilising her.

“Let her go, Morgan.”

"It's too late, Elsa. I have integrated my consciousness with her." Morgan flexed her host's hands. "She is me and I am her."

"This is your last warning." Her voice tethered, losing patience.

Morgan laughed. “You are all bark and no bite, Elsa. You are just as weak as I thought...” A sudden drop in the surrounding temperature stalled her speech. Her stomach knotted in fear as layers of ice snaked to her other parts of her body. She gulped at the piercing of Arctic blues above her.

Morgan let out a nervous laugh at Elsa’s baleful aura, her taut voice bleeding with panic. “This is just a farce, right?” Her heartbeat raced when the sheet of ice approached her torso. Morgan stuttered, “She is important to you, is she not?”

Nimble fingers brushed against the woman's damp forehead, combing her bangs aside. Something about Elsa's gaze struck a chilling chord inside her, akin to a hungry predator cornering its prey.

“Yes, she is." Elsa clipped. "Now that you have officially crossed the line, I don't have to hold back anymore." A high-pitched shriek reverberated in the air when spikes of ice tore through her enemy's flesh. The edge of her lips curved upwards when she spotted unfettered fear pooling in the Sorceress's eyes.

"Do you know why they called me the Snow Queen in my past life?"

Her hand travelled south and rested above Morgan's chest. "Nothing stops me from getting what I want, not even my sister." With a flick of her wrist palm, a snowflake sigil appeared on her torso. Morgan screamed as the biting cold seeped into her skin, numbing all her senses. "You will feel what it is like to have a frozen heart, just like her." Within seconds, silence took over. And Sorceress Morgan was no more.

Elsa sank to her knees.

I’ve won.

Tired eyes travelled to the frozen statue.

But at what cost?

The Servant buried her face in her palms, mourning for the death of her Master. No matter how hard Elsa had pictured this outcome in her mind, she still could not accept it in reality. Losing was part and parcel of the Holy Grail War - something which she had grown accustomed to after aeons of endless battles. Yet, her victory offered no solace to her. Deep down Elsa knew she had failed Ana, like how she had let her sister down aeons of years ago.

A booming voice echoed in the background.

“State your wish, Caster.”

Maybe this was her chance to redeem herself.

THE END

Epilogue

Elsa's brows furrowed at the sight of silver nestled in between her platinum blonde locks. She knew she should not be bothered with such triviality but it somehow disturbed her. She picked one strand and twirled it around her finger.

“What are you doing?”

Elsa nearly jumped out of her skin when Anatasia tapped her shoulder. She mentally cursed herself for not being careless with her surroundings.

"Nothing…" she replied nonchalantly.

Anatasia's lips curved upwards.

“I'm not going to love you less if you have a few greys on you.”

A shade of pink coloured Elsa's cheeks. Anna had read her like an open book and called her out. Her fingers dug into the edge of the sink in response.

"What about in years to come? When I'm grey and old..."

Elsa fidgeted at the inconvenient fact. Time was finally catching up to her - Her body was already showing alarming signs of ageing in such a short period of time. At this rate, she would probably have aged out.

"I would still love you the same, Elsa." Nothing will ever change my feelings for you."

"Wouldn't it be weird for people that you are in love with an old hag?"

"Let them think whatever the hell they want. They have no right to judge us."

Anatasia hand caught Elsa's. She lowered her head to meet the other's gaze.

"I understand that in your past life you are required to live up to others' expectations. But now, you don't have to do that any more."

Her hold tightened.

"I want you to be your own person, Elsa."

Elsa's eyes widened. Anatasia's words struck deep inside her heart. It's hard to imagine a life free of responsibilities when she was born into a line of duties. Times like this were a reminder that she was no longer Queen Elsa.

Just Elsa.

"I'm sorry. Old habits die hard."

Anatasia grinned.

"If anything, I want to announce to the world how lucky I am to have fallen in love with you, Elsa."

Anatasia pulled her to the open window and shouted.

"I'm in love with Elsa. Do you hear me?"

"Ana, you are going to wake up the neighbours." she scowled.

"I'm sure the forest inhabitants don't mind sharing my excitement."

"Ana…"

The redhead put up her hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright. Message well received."

Elsa let out a yelp in surprise when the other scooped her from the floor and carried her bridal style.

"May we continue this in bed, love?" she asked, flashing a toothy grin.

Elsa smiled back.

"We may."

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exactlyenoughglitter · 4 years

Text

The Pied Piper of the Night City

AO3

There’s a gentle rain downtown.

She has been wandering from district to district, exploring aimlessly after dropping off the package: walking, occasionally hitching a ride, and then walking again. It is getting late and the endless stream of crowds under the neon shades of the night has changed its face somewhat.

Today there are fires in the streets, right here, in one of the centres of the sprawling city where the buildings rise the highest as a reminder of a time when this place did not belong to the people yet. It still really does not – she can hear sirens in the distance – but for the moment it looks almost like it does, and that’s good enough for her, since she is only passing through. There is electricity in the air, and passion and music, and she is drawn to the fires around which the people dance. It could be Beltane if it were not November and if there wasn’t a tangible undercurrent of danger to the grinning faces, painted lips, and razor-sharp eyes that gleam with wetness when they are real and with lens-polish when they are not. True blasphemy – she likes it.

She sneaks a bottle off a slow giant who’s engaged in conversation at the street food stall that’s been revamped into a kind of makeshift bar, and disappears into the crowd. Surprised by how strong the alcohol is, making her seriously question the recipes of Mahakam, she takes another swig for good measure before letting the carafe drop. A woman with short, indigo hair and neat, little gill implants on both sides of her slender neck throws hers into the fire - alongside many others whom the fancy has taken. She smiles at her knowingly. The flames erupt to the joy of the dancers and a buzz runs down Ciri’s spine; she returns the smile quickly and takes a left.

The colours of the falling night become moodier and the music becomes louder, faster, more incoherent in a mixture of recordings that drone and beat down upon the doors of her heart. It drizzles and the fumes of the fires dizzy the mind, yet nobody cares. She lets the heady mix of noise and emotion take her by the hand and pull her in, and she laughs as she mixes and mingles with people in colourful outfits boasting odd gear, eye-catching piercings and just fabulous jewellery – both men and women! She wants them and they want her. Everything feels effortless in this exciting new world.

Manoeuvring between warm bodies, heady with lust for life and desire for each other, she thinks she can really be anyone for once; just pretend a little, and try it out when a handsome stranger touches her elbow and wedges in-between her and the redhead who has been holding her captive so far. Let them chase her in the shadows of the city, try and hold onto her, guide her – she will dance on whether they leave or stay. Let them follow her and the music inside her head, bewitched and enhcanted. She wants the night, and all it has to offer, all to herself; and she can have it here, where the lonely and the holy come to meet.

And why not after all?

She will walk in someone else’s shoes for a while, speak someone else’s words, and feel free and unrestrained before she abandons it all again. Like a demon in the dark. This right here is what destiny is made of, she wants to tell him – these moments she chooses to lose herself in. But he would never come here, she thinks, even though she briefly imagines catching a glimpse of his tall and slender figure in the crowd, unmistakable for her no matter the time and place. And it sows the seeds of challenge in her heart.

Until, above the ocean of space and light, she catches the rich, wind-chime melodies of familiar pipes.

He sets the beloved instrument aside, staring at the steel silhouette of the city that carves itself through the smoke like a carcass brimming with a million void fires.

A carcass deeming not even with cockroaches but with a plague. A virus of 13.3 billion that has constructed this buzzing, chiming, banal and noxious world, overflowing with live matter that devours itself from second to second, and where everything – everything – is freakishly distinctive, while still nothing is. A world where the light of the stars was far outshone by the synthetic glow, captured within infinitely similar, gargantuan golems of steel and glass that had hooked their claws into the skies above and pulled them down to their level. The handiwork of shrewd monkey inventors. And he, a magician, is sitting on top the wreckage of the recently exploded façade of one of these steel giants with darkness above him and the sky at his feet, playing his pipes and finding no comfort in his own music in all this noise.

Everything was upside down in this world.

The local authorities had hastily sealed the place up for further investigation it seems, because much of what remained intact after the fires of whatever tore itself through the multi-floored apartment’s outer walls had been left untouched. Besides expensive fabrics, ruined murals on ceilings, various frivolous interior design elements, and the castrated, potted greenery, there were even remains of art to be found here; of abstract and suggestive variety. Art, and the history of simulacrum technology. Whoever owned the place had vain, luxurious tastes in short, and that suited his preferences, though he did not particularly like anything that surrounded him in this world at any given point in time. He was still very curious though, and simply had to know.

So he pressed some buttons to hear what the place sounded like, and if it did at all anymore.

Forgotten souls in suburban city lights You lose your sense of time, where are you now?

A loud crash. Pivoting around he meets a face that is doing its best to hide all evidence of mischief and devilry, but the spilt red still washes down the parquetry. Ah, she had finally gotten bored then.

Don’t you realize your rage has gone too far?

‘Found something?’

She covers her mouth in shameless, feigned embarrassment, and nods. There is not a shred of an apology in her insolent eyes.

‘You wouldn’t want it,’ she dismisses him, all farce and parody. ‘Especially now that I’ve had some; poison chalices and all that.’ How violently self-deprecating and proud. And how little care she has.

The truth behind the bars lies poisoning your brain.

She takes to the music instantly, chirping happily as she gives herself over to the melody as if he wasn’t there, as if she had not just smashed a bottle of very fine liqueur all over the place. Of course it doesn't matter – when had the integrity of places and people she storms through ever bothered her?

It begins imperceptibly, almost without any warning at all. Humming to herself with her eyes closed, turning and stepping to the thudding beat of the electric bass, she veers off balance every now and again, though that only seems to add to her merriment.

He blinks.

Listen to what I say If you are in the streets of time counting the hours You must listen and learn the secrets of flowers

In the faint glow of the artificial light of gigantic billboards above the streets, Ciri dances to her own heart’s delight. Just as indulgently as by the street fires, though far removed from the desperation of the animals now. A whirl of ash and mulberry, tempestuous and lively. He notices her hair has come loose; it curls around her flushed neck, wild and unruly where wind and rain have visited it, and yet it remains very inviting. He gets the sudden urge to touch her, run his fingers up the back of her neck and hear her make the happy, surprised noise again. Would she dance to him like this if he played to her?

You look still confused, the whirlwinds shake your head Like turbulence in the air, you wonder who you are

Sparkling glass crackles under her heels, but the Swallow steps on, andante, swinging from one masticated wall to another as he watches. Not one would dare challenge her in the midst of all this impromptu pleasure anyhow, and in the corner of her eye, he catches the carefree, mocking look she is sending him. The temptation to look inside her mind grows too great to resist.

There is no one around

He walks through spilled drink, kicking aside the shattered glass. Catching her mid twirl he takes her hand, squeezing softly, and draws her into a different kind of dance. One he would have taught her eventually had she remained with them. The music changes at the wave of his hand and the girl squeals in surprise, shooting him an astonished look. Then bursts into laughter – openly and easily.

It is quite intolerable – this savage playfulness. He would much prefer she sulked and drew away when he interrupts her drunken revelry, for her embarrassment continues to offer him some kind of perverse, sadistic pleasure. It also makes it easier to remember that she is only a silly child, a wild thing that makes up with self-abandon what she lacks in thoughtfulness and grace. Instead, he stares, taken aback and distracted by her unexpected reaction that does not conform to his fantasies.

Try to understand No need to pretend

She slips from his arms, just a little, and invites him to come after her and meld the intent behind his steps with hers. Accommodate her and learn her. Share in her little dance with her. Thus, he bows to her extravagantly, as is befitting of him before the princess of time and space. Oh, how very familiar she feels. Her pulse rapid as a bird’s and her mind swirling with desire, challenge, and simple, shameless joy. Taking her by the waist, he discovers that he does not altogether mind learning from her tonight in this strange upside down world. They have time.

For who would find them here? No one - he has made sure of that.

And she is not going anywhere, he thinks, as he pursues the rare happiness of her large, emerald eyes over the broken shards hiding underneath, onto which spill her intoxication and his obsession. He will not let anyone snatch her from him; will not release her this time.

He wants so very many things with her, and there will be time for that. Tonight though, under artificial lights, above red blood beating hearts, he lets her lead him in this dance and forget about Destiny despite holding hands with it. His poisoned chalice. His little Lara.

No need to pretend

#the witcher #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #avallac'h #cyberpunk 2077 #crossover #post-books #pre-games #posthuman future #aen elle #cirillac'h

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neoculturetechxgot7 · 5 years

Text

// GOT7 as The Seven Deadly Sins \\

---

Bambam || Avaritia

greed • the insatiable longing for material gain

(This is a work of pure fiction and does not intend to offend or disturb readers, idols/artists or religious beliefs associated with this. It is made exclusively for entertainment and literary expression purposes and should not be taken seriously as it does not reflect any part of reality.)

///

The marble under his sole reflected the beams of light from the high chandeliers illuminating his way. Walls carved with intricate and detailed designs framed the enormous hall, in contrast to the minimalistic staircase which only graced a gilded railing and a carpet cut from China's finest red velvet.

With every step he took the diamonds embroidered on his black coat glistered, like droplets of rain water on a leaf, accompanied by the tinkling sound of the many golden forged rings adoring every single one of his fingers. He gracefully strolled across the room, passing by the large balcony without sparing even the slightest glance at the beautiful view of the night sky above the coast, palm trees swaying at the breeze.

He only came to stand in front of a double leaf door, which was instantly opened by a man in a black suit, one of those that constantly followed behind him, ready to please his every demand, and he walked inside. With a swift motion he removed his glasses, a famous designer's name engraved on the them, and took his time examining his surroundings.

His gaze scanned through rows and rows of fabric on hangers, relishing every unique piece of clothing that looked like pure artwork, like a stunning renaissance painting.

Taking a few steps closer, his fingers reached out to feel the fur of an expensive coat, one of his most recent additions, the tingling sensation of the fine hair bringing a smirk up to his thick lips, as he moved on to the next one and then the next one, admiring his collection.

A few moments later he halted and turned to the opposite direction, moving to the other side of his closet to observe the suits perfectly ironed, without a trace of wrinkles, just as he liked it. They look up almost the entire wall from floor to ceiling, some of them made of luxurious satin, simply lined with silver thread and milky pearls, while others sported rare colourful jewels and clear crystals on the lapel, in contrast to the dark sleek cotton material.

His eyes didn't skip the pairs of dress shoes under each one, their soles brand new and untouched, as most of them hadn't been worn even once. And while he continued browsing through other items of clothing he had -oh so easily- acquired, an unwelcome feeling prickled his chest. He tried to turn his focus on the jewellery displayed in the very center of the room, every ruby blazing like wildfire under the flashing spotlight, every diamond shining bright enough to be mistaken as angel tears, encased in platinum.

He neared the marble counter and only stared at the sea of golden necklaces and matching bracelets bearing signature marks of authenticity, and earrings looking like trophies as he was mentally counting them. But the number they added up to seemed...too small. That feeling sank deeper inside him...the desire for something...

He wanted new fur to thread his fingers through and enjoy it's soft texture. He wanted new bejewelled suits to admire the way their precious decorations reflected the light and new silky and velvet and satin shirts to drape over his chest every time he decided to taste the bittersweet flavour of champagne under the crystal chandeliers. His fingers closed slowly as his gaze fell on them. He wanted more rings and more bracelets to feel the cold metal on his skin and more necklaces and more pendants to weight down on his neck.

His fist violently slammed on the table as thoughts erupted in his head.

He wanted more. He needed more than his hands could touch, more than his eyes could see, more than he could ever count. It wasn't enough...What he had wasn't enough to satisfy the emptiness inside him, the black hole that sucked and swallowed everything thrown at it.

The beast within roared to be fed, longed to get more.

"I want more" His words rang in his ears like a breathless whisper, a silent demand that only he had heard. "I need more."

It wasn't enough.

His look quickly glided over the luxuries surrounding him but he only felt like the place was lacking, like it was empty.

"I need more." His voice grew louder, bouncing off of the white walls, making everyone around him startled. His body shook in desire, in need...

"More" His screams pierced the night's dead silence, so demanding...so greedy.

Because greed was devouring him, just as he devoured everything this world had to offer, hungrily and with no end. Avaritia was his greatest sin, the one he'd pay for in eternity.

#bambam #got7 #jackson wang #mark tuan #im jaebum #got7 imagines #youngjae #yugyeom #jinyoung #park jinyoung #choi youngjae #kim yugyeom #jaebeom #im jaebeom

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monkey-li · 5 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: duckverse, DuckTales, Disney Duck Universe, Disney Ducks (Comics), Dimeshipping - Fandom Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Scrooge McDuck/Magica de Spell, Dimeshipping, Scrooge McDuck & Magica De Spell Characters: Scrooge McDuck, Magica de Spell, Donald Duck Additional Tags: Dimeshipping - Freeform Summary:

Who knows what he really desires deep in his heart? Magica finds out...

The mentioned story about the comet is this one: "Comet Get It!"

The one where the Moonquarz comes from is this (MUST read for Dimeshippers!): "Zio Paperone, Amelia & il patto della luna"

I translated it into english here:

Also see my Dimeshipping Masterpost in general here ^0^:

And if you say that Magica wouldn’t be soft and/or crying like this infront of Scrooge see this ^0^:

Enough said ^0^

Special thanks to @shewhowantsmouseears and @xmysticalnightxx for endless inspiration and support ♥♥♥

Also to @viviane-lefay cause you are there ♥♥♥

You can also read the story directly here, under the cut!

Magica woke up with a shock and didn't know where she was. That was not her hut on Vesuvius. The bed was far too big and comfortable. The whole room was too luxurious. Slightly panicked, she rose up in bed and looked around in the half dark. The clock on the bedside table indicated five o'clock in the morning. Her heart pounded like wild, where was she? Suddenly something moved beside her. She wasn't alone in bed?

"Magica? Whats wrong, beloved?"

Scrooge McDuck. She was in bed with Scrooge McDuck. He called her Beloved and oh my God, was he naked? Wait, was SHE naked? With a terrified outcry she hid under the blanket. Why, why was she in bed with Scrooge? Obviously in his room, in his Manor?

"Hey..." His voice sounded so infinitely tender as he bent slightly over her. He gently stroked her face with his hands, probably to calm her down, but her mind couldn't handle the situation. "Did you had a nightmare?" He continued to stroke her hair soothingly.

It felt...good, if she was honest, everything about this situation.

But... why was she in it?

"Scrooge?" She asked carefully. Who knew if he was real or not?

"Of course it's me..." How could his voice sound like this when he was talking to HER? So full of... Love?

He leaned over her to turn on the bedside lamp, then he looked into her eyes that it made her dizzy. Had his eyes always been so deep and warm? A shiver ran down her back and her heart kept beating wildly, but now less because of panic and more because of... Him!

She was still so perplexed that she could hardly move, so she didn't fight back when he lay down so carefully that his elbows were supported next to her head, his body now sat very gently on hers. There was nothing sexual in that touch, it was more like a hug. He wanted to protect her.

"It's all good, I am with you..."

His face approached hers, did he want to...?

Awakening from her rigidity she turned her head to the side to avoid him, her face had turned red in the meantime. But she watched him from the corner of her eye. Shortly he looked... hurt? But then that soft glance came back into his eyes.

"It's all right, you know, I only touch you if it's all right with you. Was it a bad nightmare? You're all pale. Do you want to tell me about it?"

Talking, yeah, maybe it helped explain what was going on. He thought she had had a nightmare anyway, so it wouldn't seem strange to him if she sounded confused.

"I... I'm not sure, I have the feeling... well, why am I lying in bed with you? I mean... we, we are... Enemies... right?" His eyes widened briefly surprised, but then something like understanding scurried over his face. He smiled at her so tenderly that she couldn't turn her gaze away from him.

In the light she could now also see his face and upper body properly. He was really naked and.... he looked so good. She had to swallow, she became terribly aware that only a thin blanket lay between him and her, she could feel his warmth. She suddenly had the desire to put her arms around him to draw him closer.

"Did you dream of the old days? I know, it wasn't that long ago. Your subconscious probably plays tricks on you... that's normal, we both were really stubborn until we realized what we really are for each other." He reached under her blanket with his hand and she panicked and stiffened.

On the one hand she was delighted by the thought he would touch her, on the other hand she was afraid of it. Everything was so unreal. But Scrooge just carefully took her hand in his and raised it to his lips to kiss it.

No, what he kissed was...

He turned her hand so she could see her own fingers and there was a beautiful ring she had never seen before. Golden, shaped like a feather, it wrapped around her finger. But the most significant thing was the gem that pranced at the beginning of the feather. A small, polished piece of moon quartz....

The ring was beautiful but... was that...?

Again he kissed the piece of jewellery and then tenderly her hand.

"You see? Everything is fine. It may have been only one month ago, but you are my wife Magica, nothing will change that, unless you decide not to want to be at my side any longer".

Her mind had more and more problems following the whole thing, on the other hand there was a growing desire to just fall into his arms and accept what was happening.

Then he gave her, so to speak, the coup de grace.

"I love you Magica."

Slowly, so that she could protest at any time, he put his forehead to hers. "Tell me when you're reassured."

His look.... so intense, piercing, loving. He sighed softly. Not annoyed or exhausted, it was a small sound of contentment.

That it didn't bother him that her heart was beating under him like crazy…

"May I kiss you...?" His question was honest. She felt he would never give in to his desire as long as she didn't make it clear that it was all right. A feeling of comfort and protection flooded her.

Had she really only had a nightmare? Was this the reality?

Was she really in Scrooge McDuck's arms as his lawfully wedded wife?

She had never felt such a wave of happiness that overcame her before, tears rose into her eyes.

Immediately his facial expression changed to concern. Again he stroked her hair soothingly. "Sssshhht, don't cry, my love..." Now he sat up in bed and pulled her up with him into his arms.

The blanket slipped so that now their bare upper bodies lay against each other. But his touch was still nothing but tender and protective. If he desired her, he succeeded in suppressing this for the benefit of his care.

His hands stroked tenderly over her back and he swayed her in his arms. Carefully he kissed her temples and forehead. "I'm sorry that you had such a terrible nightmare..." He backed away from her a little, wiped the tears from her face and looked at her seriously.

"Do you want to sleep alone? Please, if you feel oppressed by me right now, you only have to say one word. Even if..." He had to swallow a little to say those words. "Even if you should have doubts about our connection... I love you Magica, I really love you".

His look reflected his honesty, Scrooge McDuck was always honest and stood by his word. "That's why the most important thing for me is that you are happy, even if it means... without me...I just want you to know that you can talk to me about all insecurities!"

The thought that he could leave her alone scared her. "No!" She called out a little too loud. "Please, don't leave me alone, don't let go of me." She pressed herself tightly against his warm body and her arms naturally wrapped around his neck.

Immediately, the situation had something more erotic about it but... In Circes name, never before had she felt as comfortable as she did now.

"When I woke up I was firmly convinced we were still enemies, I didn't even know where I was at first. She whispered into his ear while he continued to sway her tenderly in his arms. "But that's over, it's really over I..."

She laughed briefly because she could not suppress the joy that took possession of her. "I am your wife..." She looked deep into his eyes where she found nothing but affection.

"I love you Scrooge..."

With that words she nestled herself even closer to him, nudged his beak slightly to make him understand what he should do.

His warm smile widened. Lovingly he caressed her beak before catching her lips in a tender kiss.

Magica got dizzy, she didn't expect it to feel so wonderful. A feeling of affection and satisfaction flooded her heart.

Why did all this seem so new to her? As if it were the first time? Or was it just him, was every kiss from him so uniquely breathtaking that it surprised her every time?

She didn't know, and if she was honest, she didn't care. Only one thing was completely clear to her, she wanted more of it.

Quickly the kiss deepened, became more passionate. She greedily absorbed every touch from him.

With one arm he pulled her even closer to him, while he leaned on the bed with the other to slowly lower them both back onto the mattress. The kiss became more and more intimate.

A lustful moan escaped her as they released briefly to take a breath. Embarrassed, her cheeks turned red, she had never made such noises before. But Scrooge just smiled contentedly and kissed her again.

She became infinitely hot, his tenderness felt so good. She cursed her nightmare, never again did she want to go back to being just his enemy and miss these touches, this feeling of being loved and desired by him.

Magica had always been greedy when she wanted something and just at that moment she wanted nothing in the world as much as this man.

"Scrooge please..." Still a little shy, she looked him in the eye. "I want you to..." Why was it so difficult for her to speak? "... to touch me..."

Everywhere, now!

To her astonishment his eyes widened surprised at her words "Really? Are you sure?" Again he stroked her cheeks so lovingly. "I don't want you to force yourself into anything, you were always so insecure because all closeness was so new to you. Even a kiss was foreign..."

His eyes so infinitely understanding and tender. "Please don’t do it only for me, I can wait. I would wait forever for you."

Maybe it was still a nightmare after all.

They had been married for a month and had never...? Was she still quite clear in her head? No wonder she didn't remember anything… There WAS nothing.

"Was I really that foolish?" Now it was her turn to caress through his sideburns tenderly.

"I'm sorry, you must think I have no faith in you. Forgive me for letting you suffer so long..." She pulled him back to her to kiss him, making sure her soft breasts press onto his upper body.

"Believe me, I want to feel you. Nothing I want at the moment as much as that!"

Scrooges eyes became dark with lust as he understood that she was serious.

"I love you, Magica McDuck..."

He repeated before his hands and lips began to explore her body.

Magica McDuck... only the sound of these words caused her to burst into tears again for sheer happiness.

She closed her eyes delighted as his caresses wandered deeper down her body...

She opened them again when he grabbed her rudely by the shoulder and shook her. What was that about? He had just been so tender. But as soon as she had focused the person in front of her, she screamed in shock.

Roberta sceptically raised an eyebrow at her friend's reaction: "Hey Magica, what happened? You suddenly groaned so much in the trance that I was afraid something had gone wrong." Checking, she placed a hand on Magica's forehead. "Besides, you're all red and hot in the face. Now tell me, how did it feel to finally get the Midas touch?"

For a moment Magica looked confused at her friend Roberta. Why was she suddenly in her hut, where was Scrooge?

But then everything came back to her mind. They had brewed a potion called "Heart's desire" that showed you the fulfillment of what you carrie as your deepest wish within you. It had been for fun, a foretaste of what would happen if she finally managed to trick Scrooge and take the dime.

Instead, the potion had done its job too well and really showed her what she didn't even dare to admit she wished for...

"No..."

She whispered, ignoring her friend's question. Everything had just been in her head. She looked at her hand.

No ring...

She was overwhelmed by a terrible feeling of emptiness. As if a piece of her heart had simply been ripped from her chest. She felt infinitely miserable, how could she ever live normally again after experiencing what happiness felt like, just to realize that it was an illusion?

She burst into desperate sobbing.

Roberta was surprised and anxiously tried to comfort her friend. What had happened? Before, she had tried the potion herself. And knowing what it would feel like to reach her goal only motivated her to fight for it.

So why was Magica so upset now? It didn't suit her to give up. "Hey, don't cry now. I know it's frustrating to lose against this McDuck again and again. But now you know how great it will be if you win in the end. Take this feeling as motivation! Magica de Spell does not give up all of sudden! You'll get the dime for sure!"

But Magica only cried louder and buried her face in her hands. "I don't want the stupid dime!" She sobbed heartbreakingly.

"Exactly! You will... WHAT?" Now Roberta was completely perplexed. Magica de Spell did NOT want the first dime of Scrooge McDuck. These words just didn't fit into one sentence. At least not in this universe.

"But... why suddenly no more? What...?" But she was interrupted by Magica's desperate cry.

"I want HIM. I want Scrooge!"

Then she cried on. Just saying these words showed her how hopeless this wish was. Compared to that, the chance to get the dime was practically secured.

Suddenly, some kind of understanding scurried across Robertas face. "Oh I understand... the potion worked TOO well, right?" Gently she put one hand on her shoulder. "If I'm completely honest, I've been wondering for a long time when you'll finally realize that. But I didn't want it to cause you such pain. What exactly did you see?"

In her voice sounded honest regret. Magica was one of her very best friends and if she had insisted for the rest of her life that it was just the dime she wanted, she would have been by her side. But now, she had finally become aware of her feelings and suffered terribly from them.

Of course, as hard as she tried, even to her it seemed impossible that McDuck could feel anything for Magica. After all she had done to him.

With wet eyes and tears Magica looked at her friend.

„I was his wife…“

Now Roberta also had tears in her eyes: "Oh God, sweetie... I am so sorry... I didn't think you'd suffer from what the potion shows you..."

But then she pulled herself together again. No, that was not the end. With every other person maybe but not with her friend Magica! "You know... it is not proven that it is impossible before you have tried... you never let it stop you that you have countless times, miserably failed to get the dime. And now you just want to stick your head in the sand without at least trying?"

She pulled Magica from the chair she was sadly sitting on and pulled her in front of the mirror. "Look at that. You are Magia de Spell, the witch who doesn't even know how to give up. You and McDuck are so similar in many ways! Besides, he would have to be blind if he didn't see how beautiful you are! That's a good beginning! There are relationships that started with less. Don't just give up now! Fight! I stand behind you, and if necessary also Mim and Hazel. We support you, you are our friend!“

With sad eyes Magica looked up into the mirror and was shocked. Roberta was right, that wasn't like her giving up before she got the mitten. Sure, the illusion she had been shown might be utopian, at least for now. But who knew if Scrooge didn't have a little bit of affection for her? If she fell in love with the man who had stood between her and her magical mission for years, why would it be impossible the other way around?

They were similar, very much so. Even his nephew Donald had thrown this at their heads once. With new courage she turned to her friend. "You are right! Even though it might hurt, I have a better chance of success if I try it than if I give up immediately. And even if it is really impossible for him to feel something for me..."

Her heart contracted painfully as she thought of his soft eyes from the illusion, of his tender touches...

"... then I'd rather hear it from him myself than imagine the worst! I will go to him!"

And that immediately!

In record time she had arrived in Duckburg, now she hovered at some height above the money bin to not activate the witch defence and pondered what she should do. Maybe her decision had been a LITTLE too premature? What was she supposed to tell him? Would he let her have her say? That was a stupid idea, a foolish idea that had no chance of success!

With this realization she landed in front of the money bin, now she was in known territory...

Still, she couldn't prevent her heart from beating like crazy and her cheeks from turning red. After all, this was no ordinary, hopeless attempt...

Shyly she looked up at the camera she knew was already pointed at her. Together with an overdose of garlic probably.

In the money bin, Scrooge was about to scold his nephew, who once again excelled at giving him a headache because of his inability. When his alarm system announced the arrival of Magica de Spell. He took a quick look at the monitor to see that she was just standing in front of the entrance.

"At least someone here today who still knows how to stimulate my mind." He growled towards his nephew. " Of course they both knew that he basically loved Donald more than anyone else in his family. Maybe that's why he always got his uncles every bad mood.

Donald wondered a little how pleased his uncle seemed about the appearance of the witch. As if he could hardly wait to measure his strength with her. But as soon as Scrooge had looked at her picture properly in the camera, his face was worried. "Something's wrong with her..." He meant more to himself.

Donald looked over his shoulder, but for him the witch looked like always. "What should be?" Scrooge thoughtfully zoomed the picture closer. "She seems... desperately, the last time she came to me with such a face she had accidentally conjured up a comet that would destroy the world..."

Donald laughed. "Don't you think you're exaggerating a little? One could think that you care what's going on with the witch..." His laughter stopped when he saw the look of his uncle. Oh... he really cared...

But still everything could be a trick. "What do you want here witch?" Scrooge spoke brisk into the microphone.

As if that wasn't clear, but decency had to be.

She flinched as his harsh voice resounded over the loudspeaker. He was in a bad mood, great timing Magica...

Calming, she held her hands in the air. "Stay calm, I am unarmed I..." She faltered for a moment, should she really go through with it? But why delay the inevitable? Better she knew immediately where she stood.

"... I just want to talk to you..."

"Obviously...Not a single bit suspect..." Donald meant contemptuously.

"Shut your mouth nephew!" Scrooge interrupted him rough. "You have no idea! There are unspoken rules between us..." He looked into her face again, was mourning to be seen there? "... she tells the truth... Witch safety systems switch off!" On his word all anti magic shields were shut down.

"Come up, I'm in my office. And Magica.... you know the rules, if that's a trap I'll give you a load of garlic that even your ancestors will feel!"

Magica had to smile despite everything, she loved their disputes. The fact that Scroge found her a worthy opponent, filled her with pride and that he let her in without much fuss, only proved what a good heart actually beat in his chest.

In Circe's name she really got it hard...

Thank you..." She barely whispered audibly. Only Scrooge noticed, worried, his forehead wrinkled, what was wrong with her?

Of course they all had to stare as she walked through the building. Everybody was on alert despite the boss's orders, especially his secretary Mrs. Quackfaster, the faithful soul. But the worst moment was when she entered his office and his nephew Donald stood there.

The garlic loaded shotgun pointed at her was expected, but couldn't Scrooge McDuck be found without part of his family for once? She was looked at expectantly by two pairs of eyes. But how could she speak like that?

Impossible...

Scrooge immediately noticed how Magica recoiled when she saw that he was not alone. She could hide it good, but he just knew her too well. He sighed softly and turned to his nephew. "Donald, I believe you still have some work to do today, go!" His nephew stared at him. "I shall leave you alone with the witch? Have you already been bewitched, or what?"

It was nice that he was so worried, but why did you always have to tell him everything twice? "I have already told you that there is no danger and if there is, I am well prepared to defend myself. Go!... Please..."

Donald looked at him with big eyes that he asked instead of commanding was more than rare. He would never understand the dynamic between his uncle and the witch. Whenever he listened to them he had the feeling that the two would live in their very own world and understand each other without words. Very well, he was right, Scrooge knew how to take care of himself... mostly. With a nod he left the office, not without casting a warning glance at Magica.

She couldn't blame him and actually envied Scrooge for his loving family, how much she wanted to be a part of it...

When they were alone, Scrooge lowered his shotgun and put it aside. He instinctively knew when to trust Magica and when not. He looked at her standing silently and insecurely in his office, knowing how much it took her to be here.

"Just tell me one thing, is the world in danger?" Magica shook her head. No, only her own.

Scrooge seemed relieved and much more relaxed. "Come with me..." He meant briefly and marched towards the vault, he opened it, let her in and closed the door behind them. This unsettled Magica a bit until he spoke again. "Here we are really undisturbed, whatever you have to say will stay in this vault if you want. No one can hear us here."

His smile was almost as loving as in her vision, her heart was beating faster. Where did he get this charming composure? He sat down on the ledge and told her to do the same. Shyly, with a little distance, she sat next to him. "You are crazy to just let me into your vault, you know that, right?" She mentioned not without smiling.

Scrooge laughed, it wasn't gloating or condescending, no, he just sounded cheerful. "Magica, you are pretty much the only person I know who is not interested in my money. Or do you think I would have let you polish coins as penance here otherwise?"

Without looking at her, he put his hand on hers, which she had placed next to her. "I know when I can trust you and you wouldn't be here if you didn't trust me too... so tell me what's going on. No matter what it is. As I said, what happens in this vault stays in this vault" He winked mischievously at her. He simply had no right at his age to look so charming and young when he was like that.

Without wanting it she started to cry.

Immediately his facial expression changed to concern. He didn't expect that. He slipped closer to her and after a short hesitation he put his arm around her. "Has something bad happened? With Ratface, or your family?" She shook her head again. "The witch council?" Again, just shaking her head, although that might become a problem if the council found out what her feelings were like.

Now Scrooge was at his wits end, what else could have happened, that a strong woman like Magica burst into tears in front of her arch-enemy? Whatever it was, it seemed to affect her pretty hard personally. Taking all his courage together, he moved even closer and gently embraced her. His hands stroked tenderly over her back and he swayed her in his arms.

"It's all good, I am with you..."

He whispered into her ear in a soothing manner. Magica had the feeling her heart would explode in her chest so fast it was beating now. This gesture, these words... it was exactly like in her vision. That only made her sob harder.

But she took the opportunity to cuddle into his strong arms. Who knew if he would ever allow that again if she confessed to him what she...

Then she felt him kissing her forehead as light as a feather. These parallels made her desperate. She never wanted to leave this embrace and yet...

She knew she owed it to him, she was not allowed to take advantage of his kindness to satisfy her longing for him, without him knowing what he triggered in her.

That was unfair.

"Please Magica, talk to me, we're alone here, no one will judge you, no one will hurt you..."

She just couldn't stand his tender words anymore, which he only said because he didn't know what was in her heart.

"No one but you!"

She called desperately and pushed him away to hide her face in her hands. Her whole body was shaken by her sobbing. It hurt Scrooge so much to see her like that, he wanted to help her. If only she would understand what she meant to him... if only she would be interested in what was in his heart...

How could she assume that he would hurt her now of all times? She had already inflicted so much suffering on him and his family, had that ever disturbed him? Had he ever seen more than another adventure in it? No, so what had happened so badly that she thought he would despise her now of all times?

"You can't be serious." He began hesitantly. "You came here to talk to me. Because you instinctively know how much we resemble each other, that only I can understand you." He closed the gap between them again and gently laid his hands on her shoulder until she looked him in the eye. Such fear was reflected in them.

"Please..." He whispered once more.

Something in Magica broke. Every second she stretched it, would only make it worse.

"I love you!"

She sobbed out. "I love you so much..."

She jumped on her feet. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that I feel that way." She couldn't stop crying. "I know you hate me. I know I'm ruining everything, but I just can't undo it anymore."

With all the courage she could muster, she looked him in the eye. He just stared at her stunned, of course, he had to think she was completely crazy.

"As soon as I realized what I felt for you, I couldn't think of anything else..." Again she hid her face, she was afraid to look at him again...

"Forgive me... please forgive me..." She repeated it again and again between sobs.

Suddenly she felt her hands being grasped and slowly pulled away from her face. Stubbornly she kept her eyes shut, she wasn't brave enough to see his contempt.

"Please open your eyes, look at me Magica..." Scrooge's voice sounded very soft.

She hesitantly complied with his request and looked directly into his beautiful eyes, which looked at her tenderly. Eyes exactly like in her vision, how cruel it was to be so close to her wish but to know that he only tried to be a gentleman about this. Because he just had to be such a damned, loving fool under his hard shell...

God how much she loved him.

Scrooge took a deep breath. It was visibly difficult for him to choose the next words. He kept holding her hands in his. "Magica, I swear, if this is a trick of yours, I will never speak to you again..." He waited briefly to give her the chance to admit such betrayal, because he knew the prospect of never being able to compete with him again would make her do it. But she only looked at him with big, wet eyes. Fearful and insecure. No, she was really serious about it...

He felt his cheeks turning red and his heart beating faster. Magica de Spell had feelings for him? Could that really be true?

A laugh came out of his chest and his eyes filled with tears as well. All of a sudden he pulled her firmly into his arms and buried his beak in her soft neck feathers. A suppressed moaning could be heard from her, which made him realize how intimate this gesture had been.

He looked at her again with a bright red head. "I'm sorry... I didn't wanted..." He lost himself completely in her beautiful, deep black eyes and suddenly all nervousness had disappeared.

"I love you Magica..." He finally said very gently. "I have been undyingly in love with you for many years."

She shook her head wildly "I know that, you don't have to apologize for the fact that you... excuse me, WHAT?“

Finally she looked up and into his eyes which were still loving, although a little amused, directed at her.

"You don't!" She meant with utter conviction. That was out of the question, but his tender smile remained stubborn in his face. "Are you making fun of me?" She asked unusually meekly with an injured voice, but looked him firmly in the eyes to see the lie in them.

She found none.

She couldn't help but have tears in her eyes again.

Soothingly he closed his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "I would never have dreamed myself that these feelings had a chance. I had already come to terms with the fact that I would always be your enemy... How... I mean, what made you realize it wasn't like that?"

Very slowly Magica understood that what was happening here was the reality, that she wouldn't wake up every moment. Carefully she put her arms around his neck and enjoyed looking into his eyes. When she was so close to him, she felt that his heart was beating as fast as hers.

Embarrassed, she began to tell him about the potion... but she couldn't get any further than to the point with the ring when he suddenly interrupted her. He grabbed her by the upper arms and pushed her so far away from himself that he could see her properly.

"What are you saying?"

It gave her a sting that he reacted so panically that she had dreamed of being his wife. Even though she understood that it was pretty much, all at once. But when she looked at him she noticed that there was nothing pejorative in his face but only bare astonishment. With his eyes wide open in amazement he looked at her for a while, pondering. Finally, he let go of her completely.

Immediately she became cold. She didn't want him to turn away from her now, wanted to lie further in his arms. Uncertainly she wrapped her own arms around herself and watched him pull something out of the inside pocket of his jacket. With a faltering voice he held the object out to her.

"Do you mean… this one?"

She was wrong. That HAD to be a dream. Because Scrooge held exactly the same ring in his hands that she had worn in her illusion. But... that was impossible. She reached out a trembling hand for the piece of jewellery, but did not dare to touch it for fear everything would vanish into thin air. "Yes, that... thats it... but how can you..."

She looked Scrooge in the eye, so many questions in her face but none wanted to get over her lips.

"Because I had it made... for me I have exactly the same, I always carry them in my pocket, close to my heart ..." Now he definitely seemed more embarrassed than she. "I knew of course, or at least I thought so, that my feelings for you would never be reciprocated, but still...

After our adventure on the Moonquarz Island, I had pieces of the quartz worked into the rings. I own the rings themselfs even longer... I thought you would like them, shaped like a raven's feather... just in case the possibility would arise to..."

It was visibly unpleasant for him to talk so openly about it. He had felt so silly to have let rings made for a woman who abhorred him, to whom he could never confess what he felt.

But here he stood now…

"Magic is really not to be underestimated if it even knew about these rings and showed them to you in your illusion..."

Shyly he looked into her eyes, shining with wonder. "Would you like to wear it?"

Then he noticed how that sound. "That doesn't mean that it must have the same meaning from your vision!" He quickly made clear. "Not immediately that is..."

He added a little bit hopeful. "Only, as a sign of the bond between us..."

With this promising smile even Glomgold would have accepted the ring and Magica was already floating on cloud nine anyway. This time her new tears only reflected the extent of her joy. Laughing, she fell around his neck and he lifted her into his arms and rotated with her in a circle of joy, as if she didn't weigh the slightest bit.

He was ridiculously strong. But it was clear to both that only such strong arms as his could tame a fire like the one that burned in Magica.

Now they stood opposite each other, forehead to forehead and looked at each other happily for a while. Scrooge's heartbeat drummed uncontrollably in his chest. He still couldn't believe that his feelings were returned and she was so intoxicatingly beautiful that it made him dizzy at her sight.

Carefully he leaned forward and gently caressed her beak, looking into her eyes to see if she resisted. But Magica returned the tender touch and slowly her eyelids closed.

With a contented sigh he caught her lips in a tender kiss...

Frightened Magica opened her eyes again and withdrew from him.

Not enough to release the embrace but to interrupt the contact of their lips. Immediately Scrooge had an apologetic look in his eyes. "That was too fast, I'm sorry Magica I thought you were okay with me kissing you..."

Honestly worried, he looked at her. But she shook her head quickly, her cheeks were so hot that it almost hurt. Soothingly she snuggled herself closer to him again and put her head to his chest. It calmed her to feel his heart beating as fast as hers.

"No, thats not it Scrooge. It was just... I thought it would feel like in my illusion..." Embarrassed, she buried her head in his jacket before she could look at him again. Astonished, she saw that Scrooge looked distressed.

"Oh… I see... I... I'm sorry if it wasn't that good..." He looked so damn cute when he was so embarrassed. "I fear... I have no special experience in that field..."

Wait, what did he say? Quickly she caressed reassuringly through the soft feathers of his sideburns and lovingly rubbed her beak against his. "No, Scroogie, I didn't mean that, but..."

This time, she kissed him. Longer and deeper than before.

"...but that it felt so much more beautiful, so much more intense, that it chased a shiver through my whole body...“ She looked down.

„That scared me a bit because, you know, I don't have ANY experience in it yet... it is new for me to be touched so tenderly. Please forgive me if I behave silly, I have to get used to the fact that the person I love, loves me back and wants to touch me..."

It was so embarrassing for her to have to admit that in front of him. There she lived for infinitely many years and was uptight like an old door...

In the meantime Scrooge's sorrow had completely disappeared from his face and in its place lay a tender love.

"Then together we will learn to understand, beloved... and I will never touch you if you don't want it. I promise you that!" Gently his arms closed around her, while Magica sank into them with a contented sigh. He had called her, Beloved. She could die happily.

At some point they had to leave the undisturbed silence of his vault. Hand in hand they walked out of his office, the rings proudly on their fingers. For people who knew him well, like Mrs. Quackfaster, one look from him was enough and she understood. Smiling, she looked after the couple, her heart filled with joy to finally see her boss happy. She had been one of the few who had known about the rings. The rest of the staff would have to wait for an explanation.

Later, as they stood in front of his front door, still hand in hand, Magica shyly spoke.

"How will you explain this to your family?" She asked, not without fear in her voice. But Scrooge only smiled at her tenderly.

"I don't have to explain anything, it's my family. They will understand..."

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the ring on her finger.

"And you, are now a part of it!"

#dimeshipping #scroogexmagica #magicaxscrooge #scrooge/magica #magica/scrooge #scrooge mcduck #magica de spell #donald duck #duckverse #my fanfictions

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meroxioblogs · 2 years

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Perfect Jewellery for your Outfits

What’s more frustrating than picking out the perfect outfit? Trying to pick out the perfect jewellery to go along with it. The right jewellery can bring out your style and make you look great, and feel awesome. On the flip side, the wrong jewellery, depending on what you pair it with, can make you look clumsy and uncomfortable. More people have jewellery now more than ever. It's great to have choices, but too many can turn dressing into something dreadful. Jewellery is the staple of the ensemble, so why not make informed decisions when you accessorise? Cristina Cipolli brings you the best jewellery collections of all time. Here in the blog, we have mentioned some of our favourite picks. Keep reading to know more.

AMAZON RING WITH GEMSTONE - This precious ring from the collection of Amazon depicts wild and power. The unisex ring in 18k yellow gold vermeil, set with rainbow moonstone. The design is inspired by the shape of horseshoe nails and the horned-body ornaments popular in tribal traditions.

SHARCH CUT OUT BANGLE WITH SAPPHIRES - This piece is the definition of architectural luxury. This is a limited edition cuff bracelet in 18k gold vermeil, set with sapphires pave. The design is inspired by a fusion of Modernist-Futurist Architecture from the 1970s and the body of the shark, a predator of the ocean. It has cuts in an abstract fishbone pattern, shaped to perfectly embrace your wrist, it can be worn as low or as high on the arm as you like.

ECO-FINE HUGGIES WITH BLACK DIAMONDS - The collection of Eco-fine minimalist fine jewellery brings you Eco-fine huggies with the embracement of black diamonds on it. Pair of tiny hoop earrings in 9k recycled yellow gold, set with black diamonds. You can wear them traditionally in two ears or layer in one if you have multiple piercings. They are also perfect for a mix and match style. They are the perfect choice if you are a multitasker in human life.

#gold jewellery #online gold jewellery uk #silver jewellery #essential jewellery #silver jewellery uk

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piercer-charlies-creations · 3 years

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Luxury Piercing - Fine Jewellery https://www.instagram.com/p/CTaTmnRjk7M/?utm_medium=tumblr

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lenacohensblog · 1 year

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We all love a curated ear! No matter if you’ve got just a lobe piercing or a fully stacked cartilage. Stylish earring combination can elevate any casual outfit. Depending on our mood for the day, a suitable designer jewellery can become an accent that will emphasize the style of any outfit. As you know, the world is becoming more and more comfortable and casual in terms of clothing. One of the world’s best jewellery trends for modern living is “ear stacking”, as the name suggests, the trend in ear stacking is to use multiple earrings together or simply layering them up the ear....

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030303ly1999 · 3 years

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Disney Princess sale

It oscillates between the boundless energy of his youth and the quiet torpor of the old neighborhoods where one loses. Moreover, as Cécile had inherited a huge fortune from her adopted grandmother, Madame Furtado-Heine, they had the means to live in great state. stolen number is traditionally the roses made big names in perfume like walt disney family members. Disney flowers set DISNEY SALE with and varicolored gold palm trees. The extract of perfume is a luxury for oneself, comparable to those whose disney cuddly toys fashionable gemstone is visible only inside the ring, says Christopher Sheldrake, perfumer at Disney. From an apprenticeship in goldsmithing to becoming Goldsmith to the Imperial Crown, Carl Fabergé led an extraordinary life creating unparalleled wonders. Shirt, but you feel good inside, youll be fine. As I am not necessarily very large and well coordinated in my movements, I started with classical dance. Small, his dream was to come to Paris. Each piece is unique, handmade treasures from patiently collected by Marc Auclert, antique. The same as the old ladies in elegant Avenue Foch in the 1970s. At the time of their production they were known in the high end jewellery market as being particularly gifted at creating the most impossible and challenging designs and despite being one of the most successful independent jewellers in France, Jean DISNEY TOYS and Pierre Bellin found the large majority of their revenues came from abroad. Fred Leighton Emerald Concentric Circle Drop EarringsFred Leighton Emerald Concentric Circle Drop Earrings - photo c/o BetteridgeLong pavé emerald concentric circle 3-drop earrings, each circle centering on a bezel-set circular-cut emerald, with a graduated cascade of five emerald drops at base, the earrings on French wires (for pierced ears), mounted in 18k white gold, signed Fred Leighton. As fine examples of creations from this period sale disney become ever rarer, it is unfortunate that the other necklace has disappeared. Frederic Disney does not choose the corner of the square and the Rue de la Paix to chance: the mansion enjoys an exceptional light. Disney, light hotel With this collection, Disney celebrates the 120th anniversary of his arrival at 26, instead. The ultimate one Disney Shetland wool. The ideal dress All dresses Azzedine Ala, both classic and modern. www.disnco-outlet.com/

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poz-piercer · 4 years

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New Solid 14ct Gold LeRoi Flower to this customers Helix, she already had ridges where the petals rested so we felt this flower placement would be a great way to fill them. Enjoy the luxury of LeRoi Fine Jewellery and keep on turning heads. We currently hold a large selection of LeRoi Fine Jewellery - see what we have to offer enquiries welcome - +44(0)1473255857 #leroifinebodyjewelry #earpiercing #solidgoldpiercingjewellery #solidgoldpiercingjewelry #solidgold #helixpiercing #scaphapiercing #flatpiercing #freehandpiercing #pozpiercer #scarzbarz (at Scarz & Barz - Piercing - Landing Page) https://www.instagram.com/p/B7DiStzg1T4/?igshid=15fobrd5kv982

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murai5i · 4 years

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Jewelry Customs Among Eastern And Western Women

Having grown up immersed in south Asian way of life, I came to be familiar with jewelry as a trendy accessory and critical part of a woman's expressive identity. In my culture, women decorate themselves with precious jewels as with no trouble as one could placed on their wristwatch here inside the west. Upon moving to the US as a younger girl, I located that rings is appeared upon as a luxury, commonly bestowed upon a woman by using her huge other, and only on unique or uncommon events.

Image source The Diamond Club Of route, I am regarding first-rate earrings, in preference to the style and gown rings that regularly fills the display instances at most branch shops. In fact, in nations like India and my place of birth of Sri Lanka, some thing much less than 22KT gold isn't always considered "real" rings, and wearing and amassing portions of best rings begins at an early age. My first pair of rings, a couple of 22KT gold hoops that I nevertheless own, had been in my ears on the age of six months antique. Yes, six months vintage! No self-respecting south Asian girl would ever depart the residence without accessorizing her ears, even in infancy.

My first advent to American culture, because it relates to earrings, started at the age of sixteen when I turned into running at a jewelry keep within the mall in Connecticut. In stark evaluation to my own upbringing, I observed that getting pierced ears turned into almost taken into consideration to be risqué and turned into regularly discouraged via parents, in young ladies. I watched with fascination as little women came into the store with their mothers, begging to get their ears pierced. More times then no longer, the discern might respond with the notion that their daughter become still too younger.

The concept regarded overseas (no pun supposed) after coming from a way of life where nearly each young lady has pierced ears via her first birthday. Another fact that came as a marvel to me is that, in fashionable, western women and girls do not buy their personal earrings. Instead they wish that their boyfriend, fiancée or husband will wonder them with a stunning piece of jewelry for a special event. Popular dates encompass birthdays, Christmas and of direction, Valentine's Day. Back home in Sri Lanka, it does no longer arise to us to watch for our full-size other to buy us a bit of jewelry.

In areas like Sri Lanka and India, girls are essential customers of jewellery, purchasing the whole thing from simple baubles to extravagant high-priced portions that may be passed down to more youthful generations. From an outside perspective, it's far charming that in the United States, a country that celebrates individualism and empowerment, even within the yr 2007, girls still do no longer sense empowered to make their personal jewelry purchases. American women do no longer think twice approximately pulling out their credit score card for a 5 hundred dollar pair of fashion designer shoes or a designer purse, yet on the subject of jewelry they're nevertheless desperately hoping to be supplied with the proverbial "little blue field."

Recently, a a success advertising marketing campaign added the concept of the "right hand ring," a diamond ring that ladies can buy for themselves as a praise for his or her own achievements; one that would be worn on their proper hand, freed from social stigma. This marketing campaign went one step similarly, pushing the idea that a female no longer has to look ahead to a person to buy her that lots coveted diamond ring. This begs the query, why must we anticipate all people to buy us rings?? Instead of wasting loads of bucks on disposable dress rings, why don't we indulge ourselves and buy the investment pieces that may be loved over the course of our lifetime, and then handed down to our daughters and granddaughters? And why limit our own rings purchases to simply the "proper hand ring?"

American cultural norms appear to dictate that the diamond ring ought to be the main funding piece of jewelry in a woman's collective property and in her life. There are, in fact, so many beautifully crafted and various options to choose from.

It become in the course of my very own quest to locate the proper earrings for my wedding that inspired my jewelry line, Crysobel. I wanted jewelry that might commemorate my special day and would additionally replicate and specific a mixture of my japanese roots and my contemporary urban life-style. I simply did now not expect my amazing Dutch fiancée with the intention to meet my particular requirements in this place. As a modern-day day woman, I knew precisely what I turned into seeking out, and after an exhaustive search I found out it did not exist.

I decided to design my personal wedding earrings and the seeds of the Crysobel Jewelry Line have been sewn. During my initial quest to layout and craft my very own earrings line, I changed into reminded once more how uncommon it's far for ladies to buy their personal jewelry. It became then that I decided to dedicate fully to Crysobel. I chose to layout a line that was now not handiest a mirrored image of my aesthetics and cultural heritage, however one that might additionally introduce a new angle into what people partner with women shopping for, amassing and making an investment in satisfactory handcrafted earrings.

My clients have a tendency to be assured, style ahead and independent girls who pick to spend money on finely crafted jewelry and who take into account that a pair of splendid 18K gold and ruby chandelier rings can just as easily be worn with a couple of denims and wedges as it can with a silky slip cocktail dress. They recognize that they deserve to enjoy their earrings on a each day foundation, and that they deserve it. I try to design my pieces for this reason, to come up with the money for clients all of the flexibility they may ever want in an "funding" piece.

After all, who desires to invest in an exquisitely designed piece of jewelry, handiest to keep it locked up in a vault and pulled out for the uncommon dressy event? Life is too quick...Every moment of our lives ought to be regarded as a pink carpet event.

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delaware-lemme-smash · 7 years

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Hi! I don't know if you're still open for scenarios but if so, could I request a Prince!Todoroki AU with him trying to get out of an arranged marriage, only to meet his fiancée when he discovers her trying to escape the castle before she meets him? And he starts warming up to them despite their circumstances?

This ran away with me a little bit. I got this idea as soon as you sent the request. I’m a sucker for fantasy and this was right up my street. I might write a sequel if people are interested. Also, I write in a reader-insert style so my stories are usually in second-person. I hope you enjoy!

Todoroki Shouto

The sound of hard-soled leather boots against polished marble echoed through the wide corridor leading to the War Council chamber. Guards lined the walls, backs straight, halberds held at attention. Their polished armour gleamed in the light of gilded lamps that interspersed hanging tapestries, each of which depicted a stylised flame - the symbol of the Todoroki kingdom.

Shouto pretended not to see any of it: the guards, the flagrant display of wealth, the symbol of his father’s House. Two Kingsguards in full plate, painted red, blocked the doors of the Council chamber. He narrowed his eyes. The guard on the left bowed, a mere incline of his head, then slipped into the chamber. He closed the door behind him, but Shouto could still hear the rumble of the king’s reply through the thick panel of wood.

The guard returned, a few shades paler. ‘King Endeavor will see you, Crown Prince.’

If the hall was grand, the Council chamber was downright ostentatious, bedecked in every shade of red and gold known to man. A fire roared in the black marble fireplace, despite the summer heat pouring in through the open windows. The ugliest and most unnecessary thing, however, was sat at the end of the long, polished table that dominated the middle of the room. His father.

A tall man with short red hair, and wearing armour lavishly tooled in crimson and gold, painted with yet more fire patterns, King Endeavor regarded his son with a piercing blue glare, his elbows planted on the table, hands steepled in front of his chin. No affection shone from that face, only expectation.

Shouto reined in both his nausea and his rampant dislike for the man. He took a formal stance in front of the table. He didn’t bow or incline his head. Endeavor’s eyes narrowed. The fire behind Shouto’s back roared higher.

‘You are supposed to be meeting the envoy and the girl.’

‘I came to inform you that I will not be attending that meeting.’

Endeavor scoffed. ‘I know it’s tedious, but you have to actually meet the girl before you marry her. After that, as long as you produce heirs, I could hardly care less.’

Shouto forced himself to met his father’s eyes. There was no point in mincing words. ‘I am not going to marry her.’

A muscle ticked in the king’s jaw. ‘I’ve told you time and again that this is not up for discussion, boy. As my heir, you do what I tell you and you do it without complaint. Anything less is treason.’

‘By all rights, my elder brother should be your heir-’ Shouto started. The king’s hand slapping against the table silenced him. The wood blackened under Endeavor’s palm and smoke coiled up between his fingers. The servants would have to replace the table.

‘You are my heir. I created you as such. Your siblings were nothing more than failed experiments. What good are your brothers? And the less said of your sister, the better. With luck I can get a good marriage for her to bring in some trade but-’

‘I’m not marrying her.’ Shouto spoke quietly, but his words sliced across Endeavor’s tirade like a hot knife. ‘You want to bind her magic to mine, just like you did with my mother.’

Endeavor settled back in his throne-like chair, tapping his fingers on the burn mark he’d left. His tone was low, dangerous. ‘Yes, and look what good it did me. Three worthless, expensive royal brats and a mewling tit of a Crown Prince.’

Shouto forced himself to unclench his fists, and let go the breath he was holding. He wouldn’t rise to the bait. ‘I will not marry her.’

Endeavor surged to his feet. As he came around the table, flame swathed him from head to toe. The fire in the grate roared and spat sparks. The room turned into an oven. Shouto leaned back as his father’s furious, fire-wreathed face loomed over his. The king seized the front of Shouto’s tunic, burning holes through the fabric, and hauled him closer.

Flames licked at the corners of his mouth as he spoke. ‘I don’t care what you will or will not do. Your will has no meaning, Shouto. My will is your will. You’ll do exactly as I tell you. I don’t care if I have to drag you down that aisle in chains with the point of my sword in your back. You’re marrying her. Now go.’

Shouto stumbled as King Endeavor shoved him away, releasing his tunic. The front of the garment was in tatters.

‘And get changed,’ Endeavor snapped. ‘You look like some street urchin.’ He turned his back on his son, facing the fire, arms clasped behind his back.

Shouto stared at his father, taking in the details, cementing his hatred of the man. The burn over his left eye seemed to prickle. A stark reminder of everything the man had done. It might not have been his hands on the pot of boiling water, but it had been him who’d driven Shouto’s mother to madness.

This is the last time I’ll ever see you, you bastard.

Shouto turned and left without a word. The guards opened the door when he knocked, and he retraced his steps along the hall. As soon as he reached a cross-section, two guards in pale blue armour fell into step beside him, visors down. Shouto barely reacted, save to say, ‘It did not go well.’

‘I’m not sure what you expected,’ said the guard on his left. His armour was adapted to his needs, with a bird-shaped helm and a thinner gorget to cover his neck. His eyes gleamed red from the slits in his visor. ‘You’d have done better to be away.’

‘Think a little deeper, Tokoyami,’ said the guard on Shouto’s right. He made stiff, emphatic gestures with his hands while he spoke, armour clinking. ‘If he went along with it too easily, the king would have grown suspicious.’

‘Then we are pulling a double-blind?’ asked Tokoyami, sounding thoughtful.

‘There’s still no time to delay,’ said Shouto, turning onto a narrower corridor, though still lavishly furnished, that led to the private quarters of the royal family. Or the royal children, at least. Endeavor had his own quarters elsewhere in the palace, much to his childrens’ relief. Shouto’s doors were at the end of the hall. They’d been recarved at his birth. One half was fire: all sinuous lines and tongues of flame, and the other was ice: fractal patterns and snowflakes.

He pushed open the ice-covered door and entered. He didn’t spare a second glance for the luxuries of his room. The silk sheets and upholstered couches and gilded sconces meant nothing to him. He changed from his soft, rich clothing that was only suitable for inside the castle (suitable for nothing now), into tough leather gear, high boots, a blue surcoat, and a light cloak. His fur-lined one would attract too much notice for a short horse ride on a warm day. He emptied his drawers of jewellery, trinkets, spare money. Anything small and sellable.

Behind him, Tokoyami moved swiftly. Packing extra clothes and blankets into a roll he would conceal beneath his cloak. Iida guarded the door.

Shouto buckled on his sword. ‘Leave anything that won’t last a while.’

He wouldn’t need silk where he was going. Cotton and wool, fur and leather were his fare now. He would grow accustomed. He stepped out onto the balcony, bracing his hands on the balustrade. The castle gardens spread out before him, lush green and hazy in the sultry afternoon. The sky was a perfect, unbroken blue. But all Shouto could see was how quickly it would turn to evening, and how little time he had to put distance between himself and his father before it grew dark.

Something scraped against the castle wall.

Shouto turned his head, eyes widening slowly. There was a woman clinging to the wall. Correction: there was a woman hanging onto a long rope, staring at him like a deer looking down the shaft of a hunter’s arrow. Shouto’s gaze tracked upward, following the line of the rope to a balcony some three floors above. His own was two floors from the ground. His eyebrows rose.

‘Your highness, Princess ____.’ he said. His mind was oddly blank.

You swallowed against a dry throat, clinging to the rope for dear life. ‘Prince Shouto,’ you replied, politely. There was no reason to be rude just because you were dangling from the side of a castle.

Shouto blinked slowly, as though he was trying to dispel a hallucination. ‘Is there a reason you’re rappelling down castle wall?’

Your hands were beginning to burn from the strain. You really weren’t made for this kind of activity. Bracing a foot on the railing of his balcony, you fumbled for an explanation that wouldn’t see you dragged before the king to explain yourself.

‘It’s…a hobby.’ You took in his clothes for the first time. Leather hunting gear? ‘Is that what you’re wearing to the betrothal presentation?’

He stared at you incredulously. ‘I could ask the same question,’ he said in a tone of quiet disbelief. ‘You are, after all, wearing peasant clothing.’

‘You noticed.’

‘I did.’

This really wasn’t going well. You’d done perfectly up until now, ditching both the guards and your ladies-in-waiting. The rope you’d bribed one of the female servants to leave stashed under the bed in your chamber had been long enough. And the knots that old drunk admiral had taught you at a stuffy dinner party had held up just fine, so far. You weren’t sure how much longer you could go dangling like bait on a hook though. All it would take was one wrong glance upward and there’d be a thicket of guards waiting for you at the bottom.

‘Are you…going somewhere?’ Shouto cast a glance back into his quarters. Iida was poking his head out of the door and Tokoyami was waiting with the bundle tucked under his arm.

‘I could ask you the same question,’ you said, throwing his own words back at him.

He tapped his fingers on the balcony. ‘Perhaps.’

‘Then, perhaps,’ you said, growing irritated instead of terrified, ‘you would let me continue what I’m doing in peace?’

‘You’re running away,’ he concluded at last, noting the heavy backback that was slipping off your shoulder. His voice was chilly. ‘How far do you possibly expect to get?’

Then, at the very worst moment, Tokoyami stepped onto the balcony. ‘My prince, we have to leave before the king sends guards-aiyo?!’ He squawked at the sight of you. ‘My prince, that’s-’

‘The princess. I’m aware. She’s running away,’ Shouto said. ‘Are you ready to go?’

‘Yes, everything is prepared,’ said Tokoyami. ‘But, the princess…?’

‘Hm?’ Shouto glanced at you, sizing you up. ‘Oh, yes. Leave her be. She seems to know what she’s doing.’ He turned to leave.

You gaped at him. ‘Then…you’re not going to summon the guards?’

Shouto paused, glancing over his shoulder. ‘That would get in the way of my own plans, your highness. I have no desire to marry you.’

That might have offended you, if you weren’t scaling the castle wall to escape the same situation. You abandoned the rope and hopped neatly down onto the balcony. Tokoyami moved as if to stop you, but you brushed him off, following the prince.

‘You’re running away, too?’

The prince ran a hand through his bicoloured hair, blurring the line between red and white. ‘I am.’

‘Let me come with you.’ The words had left your mouth before you had time to consider the wisdom of them. His eyes widened. You scrambled for an explanation. ‘I won’t get far on my own. I don’t know this kingdom. If they catch me, they’ll force me to marry some old man if they can’t find you. I don’t want to be married. You can drop me off as soon as we’re over the border. I have money. Please.’

His mouth twitched at the corners. ‘You…you are proposing that we run away together…to avoid having to marry each other?’

You laughed at the ridiculousness of it. ‘Yes.’

He stared at you for a long moment, then turned to Tokoyami. ‘Find her some men’s clothes that will fit. A cloak and my spare sword. Iida, get the stablehand you bribed to saddle another horse.’

You started to curtsey, then changed it to a bow. Better get used to pretending to be a boy, for now. ‘Thank you, my prince.’

He flipped up the hood of his cloak. ‘Prince no longer. Just call me Shouto.’

#Anonymous #delaware-lemme-smash #todoroki shouto #Shouto Todoroki #Todoroki Shoto #Shoto Todoroki #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #boku no hero academia #mha #mha headcanons #mha imagines #mha scenarios #my hero academia #Mod Rig

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punk-in-docs · 7 years

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You Were Always Mine, Chapter 11

AU Tom Hiddleston - Romantic, Historical Romance, Victorian Fic. Based off the imagine; ‘Thomas spying on you after your divorce and doing anything to get you back. Including threatening your new beau.’ credits go to the lovely ladies at Tom-Hiddleston-Imagine.Tumblr.com. Link to the imagine here…. http://tom-hiddleston-imagines.tumblr.com/post/158156795440/gif-lokihiddleston-imagine-thomas-spying-on-you Chapter number: Chapter 11 Author: Punk-in-docs  Triggers/warnings: mentions of nursing. Injuries. Limb loss.

Thomas Sharpe sat alone in the Royales expensive, elegant and low lit dining room. Candlelight the colour of champagne splashed up the walls, and doused the ceiling. Silent waiters skated dextrously through the room, gliding from table to table. The rooms atmosphere is underlined by sheer elegance, and class. Baroque, golden mirrors, that seemed to ooze and drip gilding down the middle, lines each wall. Multiplying the room out on itself for what seemed like eternity.

Gold chandeliers cast soft lighting around the antique, ornate ceiling. That too was ostentatious in it’s seventeenth century extravagance. Everything was flawless. The food. The wines, the champagnes. It all promised to be luxurious and immaculately sublime.

He sat, alone, at a white, linen clothed table that was laid as flawlessly as an iced cake. Set for two, with gleaming silver cutlery, the finest china, adorned with sparkling wine glasses, crystal, glinting in the light. Like amber sherry in the firelight. It was a dinner service so fine that it could be served to royals at Buckingham palace should it need be. Though he himself admitted he wasn’t exactly the kind of gent to get along with all members of society. Tonight, he looked undoubtedly suited to this environment. Pressed black tails, black waistcoat, and a scarlet red ascot tie. His hair was neatly brushed back, and most of the curious men and women about the room were drawn to his mysterious aura, and the beauty of this elusive, dark, lovely creature.

Men wondered who he was, this abstruse, dark outsider. And women wondered what on earth an eligible, stunning, dashing man like that could possibly be doing, dining alone.

He and Vianne had an outstanding reservation this evening, to dine. She had been volunteering all afternoon at the Hospital. He had been surveying some possibilities of striking up business with a local engineering company. So their days had been separate. But he had pledged to her that their evening, most certainly would not be. If at all possible, he wished to spend the evening as entwined as was possible. He couldn’t keep his mind off what happened between them the other night.

Whenever he shut his eyes, he could smell and feel her skin under his hands. Her lips on his neck, and her small hands raking into his back. He could picture her, utterly naked, laying in bed next to him. Doused in moonlight, that red hair a copper mess and her lips all bruised from him as she lay under him. Enchanted in his hold.

He opened his eyes. Trying not to let his body grow roused at the thought as he sat there. He blinked, jolting himself back to reality. He adjusted and refolded his legs under the table, shifting his restless body. Glancing once more at pocket watch. They’d agreed to meet at eight o'clock sharp. And now it was a quarter to nine.

He watched it go from ten past, to twenty past, and then half. His eagerness to see her not fading. He could only hope the next few minutes would bring her to him. But. To no avail it would seem…

He had his eyes glued to the doors, waiting the familiar sight of her to walk through those doors at any second. Most probably flustered, and wearing that pinched expression of empathy for being so late to their dinner. His eyes diligently watch the doors. Waiting. For that red hair. That shapely figure that was wholly and uniquely her. His eyes are blessed with no such luck tonight.

He tightens his jaw. Putting his watch away before he had the displeasure of watching it tick over to nine. Sighing inwardly to himself. His eyes flicking back over to the place setting opposite. He watched her champagne fizzing and spitting in it’s glass. Probably warm by now. And he looked on with despair at the velvet jewellery box and red rose he’d sat to nestle on her placemat.

A wry, polite cough at his side alerted him to the dark coated, light of foot, waiter who’d appeared at his side as if he were not human, but rather a spectre made out of thin air.

“Will your companion be joining you to dine, sir?” Comes the enquiring sneer. Hands folded nearly behind his back. Thomas gave him a pointed stare from those piercing eyes. Letting him know his snide contestation did not go unnoticed for it’s poignant sarcasm.

“Evidently, I think by now, we both know the answer to that question…” Thomas answered him. A slight edge to his tone.

The waiter dipped his head in a formal bow. And slid away to attend another table.

He drained his own glass of lukewarm champagne. It was sweet, crisp and the tang of taking so much at a time burned acrid in his throat.

He slowly stood. Scraping the chair back. And coming to a stand. He picked up the velvet box, stroked it with his thumb, sadly, and slid it back into his pocket. He tucked his chair back in under the table. And adjusted his jacket. Smoothing his lapels, and the creases near his elbows. He looked at the docked stemmed, crimson rose on the table below.

He picked it up. And twirled it round in one hand. Feeling the brush of its silky petals ghost over his knuckles. Able to sense it’s sickly, rich fragrance.

When he detects the hefty burn of someone’s eyes boring into him, he looks up. A few tables away, a young girl, no more than ten and six years old, was watching him. Her big, innocent eyes snapping elsewhere when he joined eyesight with her. Her cheeks reddening. He could tell her age by her waif like figure that hadn’t blossomed into womanhood yet. And she still wore little blue ribbons twined in her dark hair. He felt sorry for the poor lamb. Sat in such a stuffy environment was no entertaining experience for any child. All the more potent for the unfortunate girl, as she was being ignored by both her parents. That was no way to treat a child.

He turns to leave. His pride a little sore, dejected, slightly incensed at Vianne for forgetting their engagement for dinner. He cuts through the dining room. Heading in the girls direction. A testament to how little attention her parents were paying her. That they didn’t even notice when Thomas stopped and handed her the red rose. She took it, reluctantly, still as shy as a baby fawn.

He smiled down at her, before nodding kindly and in a gentlemanly manner, before he moved away. Out of the expensive, elegant atmosphere. Away and off into that London night.

Usually the wards at night were quiet. Only the sounds of coughs and snores to be heard, and the gentle footsteps of careful nurses, gliding from bed to bed, with oil lamps, to check dutifully on their sleeping patients.

Tonight was no such night…

This evening, the wards were lively. Invigorated by the catastrophe that had all medical hands to be spared on board. Everywhere was chaos. Chaos, blood, burns and bandages. It was all a blur. Shouts and groans of agony. People crying out for their mothers, wives or doctors. The three people whom beheld the highest degrees of comfort, safety and escape from the pain. Her evening thus far was a blur of fractures, deep wounds and sutures. She felt like no matter how fast she stitched, dressed and helped reset splintered bones. She was still behind. Men and their cries, faces gnarled in agony, all were seared, raw, into her mind.

Vianne had never known a night like it. Other than the war, was her instant comparison. The receiving room was crammed. There had been a boiler explosion at the docks from a faulty compound yard. Which meant that every already full ward was twice as busy. Vianne wasn’t a properly qualified nurse. She was busied by fetching and carrying clean linens, changing beds, dressing wounds and tending of those who needed help with feeding themselves.

She must have been a sight for sore eyes, in her high collared, aproned, cobalt blue dress. Streaked with blood, and muck. Her white sleeves she’d left off long ago, after she shed them helping assist in holding down a man who’d sustained severe burns from the Docks explosion. Her hair was unruly, and unkempt now. But even Matron Davis was too busy in her duties tonight, to point out that her buttons were askew and her drooping hair arrangement needed re-pinning.

Vianne liked her work. Really she did. She found pleasure in dressing wounds, helping ease pains and aches. Sorting immaculate linen cupboards and organising a spotless ward into it’s functionality. She got along very nicely with patients. She was always requested after, to sit by beds. Read stories, chat idly with them. Both young and old, male and female. She was adored on the wards. Her bedside manner was remarked on as being divine. They always asked for Nurse James.

She was there. Always. For those in need. Helping young girls dress their hair prettily, or getting young boys to eat all their greens under doctors orders. She could comfort the lowliest, foulest, most vile mannered person into easiness. Five minutes talking with her and her no nonsense attitude, and they were cured of their ill temper. No one could deny it. She was a highly skilled nurse. And no exception. Though she wasn’t aware if it, her looks helped her along somewhat too. That made her all the more popular - particularly with the male patients. Staff or not, both adored it when she did her rounds on Wellington, the men’s ward, because that meant that everyone would be obedient if she were there to cause smiles.

She’d just delivered another round of dirty linen to the laundry, and hurried back to the ward. Where Sister Evangeline have her an entirely new set of orders. To redress bandages in beds, four, seven, and twelve.

She nods. Wiping a hand over her dewy brow. Dutifully obeying. There were too many things to keep track of. Her mind going at a million thoughts a minute. She grabs an oil lamp, and heads to Mr. Hewitt. She almost preferred to work at night. It was calmer. But after the catastrophe earlier, the place was still humming with life, and it was all hands on deck. Doctors still flitted about beds, nurses marched from bed to bed soothing where they could, and groans of agony could still be heard. There would be no slumbering silence for a good while yet.

She rounds bed four, and sees the old man within, brighten lightly at the sight of her. He was led back, asleep, his cheeks rosy, and he was perspiring too. She could see it plain as day in the sparse, low, lamp light. His hooded eyes found her as she came to stand by his bed. Her eyes creased as she smiled gently down at him. He groaned, adjusting himself to sit up. Made all the harder by the fact that his left arm was no more than a nub. Having been amputated a week ago for gangrene from a poorly done tattoo. He was baring the loss of it remarkably well.

“Having trouble sleeping, are we, Mr Hewitt?” She asked in a gentle whisper.

“Yeah. A bit. All that rackets keeping me ‘wake. Nurse. D'you think you could tell ‘em to keep in down, for an old man?” He japes lightheartedly.

“… You and me would both be in for the long jump if I let out so much as a peep of that notion to Dr. Warner. He’s busy trying to patch up those poor souls from the docks explosion…” She explained. Straightening and retucking his covers, adjusting his pillows. It was some form of magic she had about her, he decided, because from two mere touches and suddenly he felt much more relaxed and comfortable from the simple way she’d rearranged his pillows and bedcovers.

“Sister told me you were uncomfortably hot earlier…” She adds. Placing a cool, soft hand on his forehead. She then reaches down for his pulse, finding her watch and taking it. Feeling it was a little faster than normal. She then reached for a thermometer and he dutifully allowed her to slip it under his right armpit.

“My temperature always shoots up when it’s youse here to take it, Miss.” He flatters. Vianne smiles. Slyly. Watching him out of the corner of her eyes. Flicking over from where she was still watching her pocket watch.

“Now, now. Mr Hewitt. Do try to behave yourself. Your temperature and your heartbeat certainly aren’t. And we can’t have that. Now can we?” She tells him firmly.

“Would you mind awfully unbuttoning your shirt please, Mr Hewitt. I need to get to your wound. Due for your hourly check I’m afraid. We need to see if there are any abnormalities happening with those dressings..” She tells, helping him slip off his striped hospital wear, nodding when she saw the state of his wound.

It was seeping through the snowy dressing. And when she pressed her hand to it. She found what she thought she would. It was abnormally hot. She unwound it, and found his discomfort was due to that fact the surgical site was slightly infected.

“I’ll speak to Sister Evangeline and Dr. Warner, Mr Hewitt. But it looks to me like there might be an infection. Which means you may need a drain in that wound. We’ll get you comfortable as soon as is possible… I’ll make sure of it. In the mean time. I’ll fetch you a cool flannel and some ice-water to help cool you down. Never worry. We’ll get you sorted.” She assures him. Patting his shoulder. Before recollecting her oil lamp and heading for the desk.

She can barely get her words out. And she had more tasks to be getting on with. It turns out the young rascal in bed three had a friend sneak him in more booze flasks again. Trouble was, booze was not a good thing in trying to cure portal hypertension. Causing cirrhosis of the liver. All of which meant that one should usually give up the cup that inebriates and not cheers. Trouble was. Their patient was a slippery customer. An East Ender who was the very meaning of the word trouble.

“I’ve no idea what to do with him. Nurse James. He’s a menace. As if we don’t have enough to deal with on our plates tonight already… That boy has a smart mouth on him. And he’s as stubborn as a mule.” Sister Evangaline fretted to Vianne, in a quiet hush under her breath whilst she angrily scratched her pen onto the ward report.

Vianne smiles. They were both in the same state. Weary to the bone. Dead on their feet. Aching. Hungry and tired beyond any reasonable measure. Covered in blood and various other fluids that couldn’t be named. Hair mussed. Uniform shabby. It was remarkable, what the toll of a day saving lives took on ones appearance.

“Don’t worry, Sister.” Vianne assures her. “In my own way. So am I.” She smiles. Heading over. All she wanted to do was drop into a hot bath, with a stiff drink, and scrub her day away. But, she sighs wearily, not yet she can’t.

Again. She is off. Barely having time to stand still. She crosses to bed three, where their calamitous patient lay with his bowler hat perched wonkily on his head. His arms were cockily crossed behind his head, and his legs were resting in the same crossed manner. One folded over the other. He lay atop the covers. Smirking at Vianne as she moved closer.

“Evenin’ Nursey…” He drawled when she came close. She stood by the end of his bed. Her hands folded as she looked at him sternly.

“Good Evening. Mr Robins.” She smiles sweetly. “How are you feeling?” She asks pointedly. Rounding the bed. Eyeing him shrewdly as he levelled his hat on his head. When she came closer, she eagerly eyed a spot of a stain on his shirt. It was the colour of toffee. But she had a sneaking suspicion that it was not a confectionary related spillage. He had that wicked gleam in his eyes. One she had seen in him before when she was admitted. And it had not appeared there under the influence of sobriety.

“Can I help you, Nurse?” He asks her cheekily. Vianne says nothing. But narrows her eyes and steps forwards to look through his bedside cabinet. He jumps a little, sitting up in the bed.

“Am I to find any contraband that you are wishing to keep hidden from us, Mr Robins?” She asks. Searching through his folded clothes.

“I’d not dare hide anything from you, Nurse.” He flirts. She drops to her knees, crouching, and runs her hand along the underside of his mattress. He watched her. Those brown eyes twitching in nervousness that he masked with confidence. She could see him fidget in disquiet as she probed around.

“You don’t believe me. Do ya? Oh. I am hurt Nurse. You cut me. Cut me to the quick you ‘ave.” He teases all the more. She stops. And raises an unimpressed brow at him, her smile wry, as her hand grasps for the object that it came into contact with. She gets her fingers around it, and tugs it out. Tilting her head in a silent query as she held a small hip flask in her hand. Still able to hear something sloshing around inside it. She watched Mr. Robins sit bolt upright. Looking severely panicked.

She opened it and swilled it’s contents around. Holding it under her nose to take a sniff. Raising a brow.

“By my guess….I’d say… Scottish…. Single malt, whiskey. Judging by that stain on your lapels. And if I got any closer, Mr. Robins, would I, or would I not, be able to smell that very same spirit on your breath?” She asks him with thinning patience. Still smiling down at him. He averted his eyes. Ashamed under her scrupulous interrogation.

“Just a little tipple to take before bed, Nurse. Nothin’ ‘armful. I can’t sleep without it.” He protested grumpily.

“Mr. Robins. You came to us because though you may be in your early twenties. You have the scarred liver, and abdominal tenderness of a middle aged, forty year old. You’re suffering from alcohol poisoning. Mr Robins… Because that’s what drink is doing to you. Poisoning you. Killing you. And if you keep it up at this rate, you’ll have a lot more strife to deal with than me giving you a sharp dressing down. Do you understand?” She tells him firmly.

He looks ashamed. But seems to perk up and smile filthily at her again.

“Wouldn’t mind you giving me any sort of dressing down, Nursey.” He winks. Vianne sighs and employs her best, well learned, sharp, hard, nurses glare that oft had people jumping to obedience to do her bidding when she employed it. Patient or no.

“That’s, Nurse James. To you. Mr. Robins. I’ve no doubt out about in the streets you think yourself in charge. But this here’s my domain. And I rule in here with absolute authority… Now consider this flask confiscated. And if I pass by again and find you still awake, I will set Matron on you. And you’ll be begging for a reprieve by the time she’s done with you. I can safely assure you of that.” She promises. Tucking the flask in her uniforms pocket and walking away. Before an idle thought occurs to her. And she pauses…

She walks back to his bed. And smiles, politely.

“Do you not take your hat off, to a Lady? Mr. Robins?” She demands with a cunning smile. Knowing she had him beat. He acquiesced to her request. Plucking his hat and lifting it off his head to her. Careful to keep the inside brim concealed from her sight.

She rolled her eyes and snatched it from his hands. He let out a loud exclamation as she did. But quietened down when she looked into the dome of it, and found yet another flask pinned, hidden up there.

She raises a brow. She unlatched the flask, and with a flick of the wrist, as if she was skimming a stone, she tossed the hat back to him. It landed square on his chest. Emptied of it’s contraband contents.

“Sweet dreams, Mr. Robins. You are a terrible liar.” She smiles before she sidles away to the Nurses desk.

“My dreams aren’t sweet compared to your tender care, Nursey.” He calls sarcastically after her.

She rounds the counter, smiling at Sister. Placing the two flasks in a strongbox. Smiling at her conquering victory. Placing the source of Mr. Robins ill health under lock and key. And putting it out of sight. If only all ailments were so easily cured. She thinks.

“We’d be a sorry ward without your expert touch. Nurse James. I thank you.” Sister Evangaline smiles, looking up for a moment from her ward report. She had a sweet smile that was rarely seen for all the times she was so shrewish and strict. She was kind. But she took no nonsense above it. Vianne had a kinship with her. She saw less and less of her acerbity now. The very same veracity that had most probationers shivering in fear when she passed them by.

“Oh, a Gentleman just left this for you. Nurse… he didn’t leave his name. He said you’d know who he was, and what it was about.” She told. Passing her a small, white envelope.

Vianne swallowed. Looking at the small, rectangular slip of paper in Sister Evangeline’s hand. Her breath came short, and she felt queasy just looking at the dreaded little thing.

For if it was anything alike the note she had received the other day. She didn’t want to go through opening another. She took it quickly. With a false smile. And a nervous, trembling hand.

It had her first name written on it. No profanity’s this time. Which eases her fears, if only by a little. She smiles meekly.

“Have you any other duties for me, Sister?” She asks curtly.

Sister Evangeline met her eyes, smiled. And bid her leave to go and take a tea break for a few moments. Vianne walked briskly away, out of the wards double doors. Which squeaked loudly in her absence. And her footfalls echoed loudly in the empty, hallway. She stalks quickly to the linen cupboard, and shuts the door soundly after her.

She’d hidden the previous one from Thomas. His temper would be volcanic if he thought someone was threatening his Vianne. She’d stuffed it into her dressing gown pocket and forgotten it. But let it instead burn a gaping hole in her brain…

Then she gasps…. Thomas. Oh. God, Thomas.

She is suddenly hit with a wave of epiphany. Aswell as one of guilt and shame. It had just gone eleven o'clock. And she had dutifully promised Him she’d meet for a romantic dinner at the Royale at Eight. She put a hand to her forehead. She felt rotten. She sighs in her abhorrence at her own stupidity. She’d been so caught up in her shift and orders, that she’d quite forgotten the time.

She opened the note with a heavy heart. She have to make it up to him in some way. She’d stood him up, without so much as a note. But when she tore open the letter in her hands, she didn’t find anger in it’s contents.

“Carry on the good work. Dearest Heart. - T”

When she is released from her duties, she doesn’t even bother to change from her nurses uniform. She pulls on her coat. Collects her surgical bag. And trudges wearily for a hackney cab. Her aching body bone weary, and miserable. She was tired, hungry and filthy. And to top it all off, she’d let her Thomas down.

She hated letting anyone down, let alone him. Especially not him.

She chides herself all the way home. Wanting nothing more than a scorching hot bath, and to get a missive to him as quickly as was possible. Detailing all the ways in with she was sorry for missing their engagement tonight. She can only hope he’d be forgiving. If she'd have ever done that to Henry, the repercussions of riling his temper didn't bare thinking about. But judging by Thomas's perplexing letter, he had visited the hospital, and found she was too busy to be pried away. That’s what ate away at her worst of all.

The fact he now thought that she would put work ahead of him was just too unfathomable to bear. Given their past history.

When she gets home, she drags her aching limbs out of the cab. Cursing inwardly at the frankly foul nature of the ache in her neck, and back. Pays the driver. And coerces her ailing form up the steps, unlocking the front door, she let’s herself in. And shuts it after her. The house is unlit, and eerily quiet. Tonight was Jeanie’s night off. She often went to see her family in Poplar of a Wednesday night.

She stood, for a second. Looking up at her dark, lifeless house. Never dreaming she’d be the one to be a lowly spinster. Coming home to nothing but a house. A silent house, to a woman of her age, was the saddest thing of all. No husband. No children. Not even an batty, aged relative to keep her company in the next room. Just her. And her monotonous life.

She sighs. Putting her coat on the rack, chucking her bag on the side table. In the foyer mirror, she looks at her dark, baggy eyes. And exhausted face. Un-pinning her nurses cap, and removing her stained, bloodied apron. She crumples it into a ball in her hands. She then detached the stiff, two buttoned collar and threw that down too. Undoing buttons down to her chest, letting some air get to her heated skin. Placing a steady hand on her sternum. She breathes deep and looks in the mirror. She saw the same flawed woman staring back. Looking lonely, tired and despairing.

She’d march herself upstairs. And flop straight into her own bed. She wasn’t even sure she’d spare the energy to pull off her shoes. Of course, her corset was ruthlessly tight. And she wanted to tear it off. But with the little energy she has, she fears the climb above stairs would sap her of all the little motivation she did have left.

She turns to take her bloodied clothes upstairs, when her attention is drawn to her front parlour door. Because there was a sliver of amber light slicing under the door. Standing out like a beacon in the dark house. She frowns.

Walking quickly to the door, she twists the handle and slowly walks the door open. When she saw what was the other side, she gasped. Smiling wholeheartedly at the sight within.

A small table. Set for two. Laden with lit silver candelabras, dressed with a vase of roses, and two silver domes awaiting their attention. And one ex-husband, turned current lover, sat smiling across at her from the settee.

“May I begin with a thousand apologies?” She asks him sincerely. Frowning with empathy at him.

Thomas comes to a stand, and crosses to take her in his arms. One hand to her dainty waist, the other to the back of her neck. And he pulls her into a hungry kiss that conveys how much he had missed her, being parted from her all day. After he’s made her knees weak, and her legs shiver in wanton arousal. He pulls away. Both hands now on her neck as he leaves her gasping for air when he retreats. His hot breath fanning against her lips. She rolls her eyes back in her head in pleasure as he kisses her neck. And then he speaks.

“You may not. And I will tell you why. I came to the ward tonight. Ticked off, and with my nose put out of place because I thought you’d taken the choice to put work before our time together. But then I saw you… I saw you sat talking to that man with one arm as you gave him comfort, and made him smile. I watched you tease and chide a patient for the sake of his own silly good. I knew then you hadn’t chosen your nursing over me… But that I had been selfish once again. There were people who needed your help, more so than I needed your time. How can I be mad at a woman who spent her time today, saving lives?” He asks her.

She smiles. Clutching at his arms. He nuzzles his forehead to touch hers. Closing his eyes. And sighing a moan in pleasure as he held her in his arms.

“… And then. I thought. Well. If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain. The mountain shall come to him.” He smiles. Gesturing to the table behind him.

She kisses him for that kindness. He draws her closer, the hot look in his eyes letting her know he intended to kiss her once more… She pulls back. Gasping a smile as one hand slid south to grab her bottom.

“I should warn you. I’m in dire need of a bath. And I can barely keep my eyes open. I don’t know what I want more, a drink, to rip these clothes off, or some sleep…” She sighs happily. Stroking his hair. One finger sliding lovingly along his pale, sharp cheekbone. Drinking in the sight of that adoring face. Even sans scar. To her, he was still the handsomest man to ever walk the earth.

“Why don’t we start with that drink, then, my love?” He asks. Helping guide her to the table. Helping her to take a seat. She flushed wildly, hot, as she sat down. Because then he leaned in, his warm fingers toying with a curl of hair at her nape. And his lips lowered to her ear.

“And as for the ripping off of clothes, and the bath… I’d quite happily assist you in those ventures…” He flirts. And when she meets his mischievous eyes once again, she can’t help but notice he looked terribly determined in that quest also.

@heavymist @totallynotasmutblog @frenchfrostpudding

#tom hiddleston #victorian era #historical fiction #romance #angst #seperation #divorce #nursing #hospital #stood up #dinner #romantic

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spyder-m · 7 years

Text

Naruhina Week 2k17, Day 1

FF.net | AO3 | Day 1 - you are here | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 |

Day 1: Gifts

Summary: There was only one thing Naruto could think to give Hinata for her birthday. Only one thing that would show how he truly felt for her.

Naruto sat perched on his usual stool at Ichiraku's, gazing vacantly into his bowl of ramen. It was as though he hoped to find the solution to all problems hidden amongst the cloud of steam rising steadily from the broth.

There was a break in Teuchi and Ayame's workflow as they watched their most loyal customer picking lazily through his noodles with a single chopstick. They exchanged a look of concern, wondering where the usual enthusiasm and vigor with which he ate his favourite meal had gone.

Though, from the way he was slouched, his brow furrowed, it seemed there was something weighing heavily upon his mind.

Naruto sighed, tucking his free, gloved hand deep into his jacket pocket, sheltering it against the chill. Thin layers of snow coated the streets behind him, a sign of the Winter season having long since set in.

Hinata's birthday was just around the corner, and he still hadn't thought of anything to get her.

He had just finished scouring the marketplace, hoping that something would stand out to him. Yet he had trudged away, empty handed, hoping perhaps some miso ramen would lift his spirits.

"What's with him?" Sasuke asked Sakura as they approached the stand, nodding towards the blonde. Though, his impassive tone seemed to suggest he didn't particularly care. Sakura rose a finger to her lips, gesturing for him to lower his voice.

"He's upset that he can't think of anything to get Hinata for her birthday," Sakura whispered.

"He's worried about that?" Sasuke snorted in disbelief. "I'm pretty sure he could give her a lump of coal and she'd happily accept that."

"Be that as it may, I think he wants to get her something special. Something that shows her how much she means to him." Sakura said, her eyes holding Sasuke's.

He shrugged in response, his hands fisting into his pockets while Sakura released a low breath. She walked towards the ramen stand, Sasuke shadowing her silently.

"Naruto?" Sakura said, touching him on the shoulder. His eyes widened, the unexpected contact breaking him from his stupor. "Are you okay? You haven't touched your bowl."

"Oh, Sakura-chan." Naruto turned, setting his lips into a tight smile. "I'm fine. Just needed a moment to let it cool down, heh."

Naruto began scooping up generous helpings of noodles from his bowl, chewing them thoughtfully.

Though he was still disappointed by his unsuccessful search, he dish did bring Naruto some comfort, settling in his stomach and warming him. He savoured his treat, slowly and deliberately, allowing himself time to reflect.

He could feel Sakura's gaze lingering on him as he ate. Piercing, as if searching his expression for any tell-tale signs of how he truly felt. Naruto tried to feign nonchalance but couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable under her scrutiny. Eventually, her hand came to clasp his shoulder once more, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Don't worry yourself too much, Naruto. I'm sure you'll think of something eventually."

She turned away with a wave, readjusting her coat and stepping back out into the busy streets. Sasuke offered him a simple nod, before disappearing into the crowd after her.

For as long as he had known her, Hinata had always been something of a mystery to Naruto.

For someone like him, who was open and almost unapologetic in how he expressed himself, someone like Hinata; who was cautious in how of herself she exposed; stood out to him.

No matter how close they got, she always seemed to retreat from him at a certain point. as though he threatened to breach some intimate boundary. He had seen it ever since they were young, in the way she would shrink behind other people or hide her face behind a veil of dark of hair. How rarely she would raise her voice, sometimes speaking so softly that he would have to strain just to hear her.

He thought, at first, that it was just her shy nature. Yet, he could help but notice, that it was only around him that her cheeks would flush, that she would glance anxiously at her feet.

Somehow, though, that resistance only served to draw him closer, to entice his interest in her.

The more he managed to see beyond the veil, the more he recognised.

The more qualities he found that reflected his own. It was slow, and at times, painstaking, but he could find the patience to find, to understand, each and every part of her.

With her birthday around the corner, Naruto wanted to get her something, something that could express exactly how he felt.

Naruto knew that he was just an orphaned kid, someone who had spent most of his life getting by on the bare-essentials. That there probably wasn't anything he could possibly offer her, the heiress of the Hyuuga clan, of material value.

Yet, he also knew that Hinata deserved more than just empty, material possessions.

She had lived a fairly luxurious life in the Hyuuga compound. Yet, for a large part of her childhood, she had been starved of something more vital to her wellbeing. Something as simple as affection. Love.

The death of her mother early on, coupled with being raised by an, at times, cold, strict father had created a void inside of her that could not be filled with fancy jewellery or clothes. Even now, there were still scars the lingered. Some of which appeared all too painfully familiar to him.

He wanted to give her something that would show how much he appreciated all that she had gifted him with so selflessly.

Something that couldn't be so easily bought or sold.

It had to be perfect.

It had to be just right.

A large gathering was held at the Hyuuga estate to commemorate Hinata's nineteenth birthday. Her father had spared no expense, arranging banquets of food and wait-staff.

While Hinata appreciated the gesture, she was not particularly fond of the extravagant celebration, nor being such a focal point of attention. She preferred spending time amongst the close company of her friends and immediate family. Instead, she found herself sharing polite, albeit forced, conversations with guests she wasn't entirely sure she'd even met before.

Still, it came with being the clan's heiress, Hinata supposed. Hopefully, she could grin and bear it for another hour or so, and carefully make her exit when non one was watching.

The evening would improve exponentially, however, as she was quietly whisked away by her friends, her father too engaged in conversation to notice.

They each took the time to greet her individually, offering her warm embraces of words of congratulation. Though her cheeks were bright and she ducked her head bashfully with each kind word, Hinata was giddy, happiness warming her too her core.

She truly could not be more grateful to have such wonderful friends.

Though, from the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but notice one person in particular, keeping their distance.

"Here, Hinata." Kiba exclaimed, eagerly thrusting a package into her hands. "This one's from Akamaru and I."

"Oh Kiba-kun!" Hinata exclaimed, "You didn't have to... "

"Tsk. Are you kidding me? It's the least that I could do."

"That's so sweet of you, KIba." Hinata said, leaning forward and hugging her friend tightly. His hand reached up, gently cradling her head. "Thank you."

Before she could begin to unravel the paper, she was startled by a short, indignant bark as some wet and rough nuzzled against her leg.

"Oh? Did I forget to thank you as well, Akamaru-kun?" Hinata smiled, kneeling down and scratching the dogs head.

"Come on, come on!" Kiba pressed, with all the rambunctious enthusiasm of a puppy. "Open it already!"

"Alright, alright. Settle down you two." Hinata teased, returning to her feet.

"Oi, dobe." Sasuke muttered, flicking Naruto across the forehead. The blond flinched, holding his face with a whine. "Stop gawking and give your present to her already."

"Sasuke-kun's right, Naruto." Sakura said, as they watched Hinata speaking with Kiba and Shino from the other side of the room. "Everyone's given their gifts to Hinata. You're the only one left."

"I know, it's just… I don't know what to say."

"That's a first," Sasuke drawled, earning him a deft thump across the shoulder from Sakura. He rubbed at the numb sensation in his arm, muttering under his breath.

"Come on, Naruto." Sakura encouraged. "There's no reason to be nervous. It's just Hinata. You talk to her all the time! You're friends!"

"This is different, though." Naruto protested.

"But you spent so much time planning it. I can tell that you'll be dissapointed if you don't follow through."

With a sigh, Sasuke pushed himself from off the wall, stepping towards his friend. He realised that, given Naruto's stubbornness, their chances of convincing him to move on his own were minimal.

With this in mind, an idea came to Sasuke. Without a word, he roughly shoved Naruto, making him stumble into the middle of the room.

Barely managing to regain his balance, Naruto growled, turning toward Sasuke with a clenched first.

"What the fuck, Sasuke?! You asshole-" before the words could even finish forming on his lips, Naruto realised that he was standing just a few feet away from Hinata, who was watching him with wide eyes.

If the smirk etched across Sasuke's lips meant anything, what he had done clearly hadn't been an accident.

That bastard.

"Oh- I, uh... Hinata." Naruto acknowledged, waving lazily. "It's good to see you! H- happy birthday."

"Ah- Thank you, Naruto-kun." She answered, flushing. "Although, I feel like I haven't seen you much tonight."

"Yeah, sorry." Naruto said, glancing to one side. "I could see you were talking. I just- I didn't want to bother you."

"Oh, it's no bother. Really."

Noticing the brief lapse in conversation, Sakura stepped forward, making sure that Naruto did not forget the very reason he had approached; or been pushed towards; Hinata in the first place.

"Naruto," she said, with ales than subtle nudge. "Don't you have something you'd like to give to Hinata?"

"Eh? Oh, right! I just- I just don't have it on me, right now… Hinata, could you uh- come with me, for a second?"

"Eh?" Hinata exclaimed, her entire face lighting up noticeably.

"It's not like that!" Naruto countered, waving his arms dramatically. "I just… I wanted to give your gift to you in private. I- is there somewhere we can go... to be alone?"

"A- alright then." Hinata said, a hesitance in her voice. She wasn't entirely sure what was going own, but she felt that she could trust Naruto. "Here, come this way."

She gestured towards a nearby door, leading Naruto outside.

"What was that about?" Kiba asked with a puzzled expression. Sasuke simply pointed towards Sakura who was holding her hands against her mouth, bounding up and down on the balls of her feet excitedly.

"I'm happy that everyone was able to come tonight." Hinata spoke, as they stepped out into the night, the breeze pulling lightly at her hair. "It's not often that we're able to all be together like this."

"Yeah." Naruto answered, his eyes remaining fixed on the girl beside him.

They only strayed when she turned to face him, his head pulling away with abrupt force, afraid that she may have caught him staring. He tried to concentrate instead on the plethora of stars blanketing the night sky, but found that the image did not compare.

"So..." Hinata's voice carried through the empty air. "You- you said that you had something for me?"

"Right." Naruto swallowed, finally looking towards her again. His breath caught the sight of those familiar, yet distant eyes, watching. Waiting for him.

"Hinata, I'm really sorry." He began. "But I- I couldn't think of anything to get you for your birthday. At least, not anything that could say what I wanted to."

Hinata frowned, not quite following.

"W- what do you mean, Naruto-kun?"

"I- I like you, Hinata..."

His words were soft, but pulled at her heart with unrelenting power. She looked at him, her eyes bulging in disbelief, yet recognising, from the firmness of his stance and the determined expression on his face, that what she had heard was the truth.

For once, her gaze did not falter, but held with his own, resolute, allowing him to take in with clarity and detail all that had alluded him before. Naruto found himself inching closer still.

"There was... something I was thinking of giving you. But I wasn't sure if you'd like it or not."

Swallowing, Hinata was surprised she was even able to find her voice.

"W- whatever it is, Naruto-kun, I'm sure I'll love it."

Naruto's released an anxious breath, his hand fidgeting at the back of his neck. He closed his fist, resolve building in his chest as he turned towards her.

"A- alright, then. Close your eyes." He requested.

Hinata's stomach churned in anticipation, suddenly overtly conscious of the even slightest movements, the sensation of Naruto standing so close to her. The heat radiating from his body, the strength and warmth of his hand as it rested against her arm.

The gentle caress of his lips brushing against her own.

Hinata's mouth broke open in a gasp, falling limp into Naruto's arms as they surrounded her, warmly, firmly. Perfectly.

Naruto, for all he had tried, had only been able to think of one thing he could give Hinata, one thing that could capture just how he felt about her.

A kiss.

Her very first one.

Little did Naruto know, however, that; standing there, with him, surrounded by her most precious people; Hinata could have asked for anything more.

As they parted, a thin whisp of breath slipped from their lips, rising into the cool air. Naruto rested his forehead against her own, heat radiating from his skin.

"Happy birthday, Hinata." He whispered into the night.

#naruhina #naruhina week #naruhina week day 1 #naruto uzumaki #hinata hyuuga #fanfiction #belated happy birthday hinata post #i severely underestimated how long this would take me to write #i'm slightly behind schedule now #i have no idea how i managed to write something for every day of the month last year #oh well

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nightfoot · 7 years

Text

This is a commission I did for @hoskky! She drew these characters, gave me a vague description, and asked me to flesh them, so here are three little backstories I wrote for each. Set in a vaguely-fictional medieval Persia.

Commission Info

The Runner

Rahim first realized he was fast when he was seven years old. He had always known he liked running, of course, but that was typical of a young boy. The epiphany came when he was seven and he found himself challenged to a dare: retrieve a pomegranate from the tree at the far side of the school master’s garden, and get back to the street without getting caught. Though he feared the beating that would surely be in store if he failed, Rahim could not tolerate his friends thinking him a coward. Overcome by pride and the need to prove himself, he clambered over the wall and crept through the bushes.

It had been his intention to achieve his goal through stealth, and he managed to get all the way to the tree and pluck a pomegranate from its branches without being seen. He had just turned back to the wall to wave to his friends poking their heads over when heart-stopping bark reminded the hair on the back of his neck that humans were prey animals. The saluki dog raced down the garden path toward him, graceful legs galloping like a horse and silky hair streaming from its ears and tail. Rahim only needed a moment’s glance at the snarling teeth to take off in a sprint. Rahim pushed his legs faster than he ever had in his life, certain that the dog’s breath so close behind him was pushing him onward. When he reached the edge of the garden, he tossed the pomegranate over the wall and leapt up a trestle of ivy. At the top of the wall, he perched with one leg hanging on both sides. He looked to his left and saw a dog furious that he’d outrun it, and then looked to his right and saw his schoolmates shouting and cheering. From that moment, he knew two things: one, speed was a gift he possessed in strides, and two, he rather liked being above everyone else.

Over the years, his parents were pleased with him. Rahim was a dutiful son, paid attention to his studies, respected his elders… and won every race he entered. He was the best, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was the kindest. An endless stream of praise from relatives and teachers alike can do things to a man’s ego, so when he sprinted past the finish line at the spring athletics competition, he felt confident that he deserved the applause being thrown his way. When an attendant from the palace introduced himself afterwards, praised his speed and stamina, and offered him a position running messages for the Shah, he felt he deserved that, too.

Rahim left his small town to travel to Asheveh. There, he became a royal messenger and raced around the empire. He enjoyed the luxurious perks that came with palatial connections while he was at home, and also relished every mission he was sent on. Nothing made him happier than running down long roads, letting the warm air fuel his lungs and his legs flow so rhythmically that it would take more effort to stop. Some people said that racing was his one true love, and that was why he’d never pursued any romantic relationships. He wasn’t sure if that was true; he’d just never found the time nor inclination. On any sunny day, he could often be found running back home after a job, an invisible saluki nipping at his heels. Back home was fine wine, decadent food, and an evening of good company with other well-respected workers in the palace, but in the moment, there was only the race.

The Urchin

Tamaris had never been comfortable with her older brother’s stealing. She knew where he got the loaves of bread he sometimes brought home, but she tried not to think about it. It became even worse the first time her older brother had shown her how he picked pockets, and then she was met by crushing terror when he told her it was her turn. She pressed her back against the sandstone wall, shaking her head. She would get caught! And stealing was wrong! But her brother scolded her, pointed out that picking pockets was what had put food on the family table for years, and that, being six, she was old enough now to help support the family. With the guilt piled on, she hesitantly crept into the bustling market.

Shafts of light pierced through gaps under the brightly coloured awnings and voices cried out from every stall. The smell of sweaty bodies and spices on display nearly overwhelmed her, and she felt certain that every vendor and shopper alike was watching her and knew what she was planning. The panic nearly sent her scurrying back to her brother to insist she couldn’t do it, but the thought of him scolding her and thinking she was a baby was even worse. She tried to find someone who looked wealthy - someone whose day wouldn’t be ruined by losing a few coins. She spotted a man arguing over the price of a necklace and eased toward him, slinking past a donkey and creeping up behind him. She swallowed heavily, licked her chapped lips, and reached for his pocket. Just like her brother had demonstrated, she pulled out the pouch of money and then bolted into the crowd. She didn’t even look back to see if he’d noticed.

Tamaris didn’t stop running until she reached a sunny plaza and fell into the shade of a date tree. Breathing hard, she looked down at the money pouch in her shaking hand. She tipped the coins into her palm, dazzled by the gleam, and then quickly put them away before someone saw and asked where she’d gotten them. A scrawny girl in clothes as baggy as hers clearly hadn’t come by them honestly.

With that thought, guilt spread through her like venom from a snake bite. She was a thief. A dishonest, thieving, no-good street urchin. When she was little, she’d hated the disgusted looks richer people gave her when they passed her on the street, but she deserved them now, didn’t she? People looked down on kids like her because you couldn’t trust them, and they were right. She tried to tell herself that this money would help feed their widowed mother and younger siblings, and that they needed it more than the rich man needed the necklace, but she still felt awful.

She turned her head away from the market and toward the domes and slender pillars of Asheveh’s palace in the distance. Tamaris tried to imagine how nice it would be to live there and spend her days lounging on silk cushions as servants fanned her and brought her infinite platters of food. It was hard to imagine such luxury being real when she’d spent her whole life in the slums. She had good friends there, and the camaraderie between those that had nothing was unmatched, but she often dreamed of a world of sparkling fountains and golden jewellery. She wanted that life so bad she could feel the longing lashing against her rib cage, but this pile of stolen coins clutched in her hand was the closest she would ever get to it. She’d never achieve wealth without stealing it, and she’d never be anything but a thieving street rat.

The Warrior

It was the final months of the Isfahan Campaign. The war had raged for almost two years now, and the enemy was on their last legs. What were they fighting for? Well, Behrou had never bothered thinking too hard about that. She was a soldier, and soldiers went into battle when told. The whys and the whens were questions for the officers to sort out.

That morning, the sun rose over the hill and shone like gold on the cavalry’s spears. With the blast of a horn, a hundred horses galloped down the slope to the enemy encampment below. Wind whipped the flags, voices shouted in unison, and the ambushed enemy scrambled to pull their pants up in time to meet them. Behrou rode at the front of her division and led them into the encampment. They cut down every last one of those barbarous curs before the sun was halfway up the sky, giving them time to be back to their own camp before lunch.

But then, just as they were settling down to enjoy a well-earned meal, Behrou spotted movement behind a fig tree. Sneaking up behind the lieutenant was a straggler from the enemy camp, dripping with blood and face filled with vengeful fury. The lieutenant, too busy feeling pleased with himself after the successful raid - as officers are wont to do - didn’t even notice. The enemy began to raise his scimitar to strike down the unsuspecting lieutenant, but before he could deal the fatal blow, Behrou threw her spear like a javelin. Her aim was true; the spear went right through the enemy’s neck and sank into the trunk of the tree, pinning him there. Everyone in the area stopped to stare, and in the utter silence that followed, a single fig dropped from the tree and plopped onto the dead man’s head. Behrou stepped past the frozen lieutenant to pick up the fig. She held it out to him and said, “Care for some dessert, sir?”

At the conclusion of this tale, the bar erupted into applause. Behrou, withered by age, drank in her audience’s rapt attention… and then drank in another mug of beer. Was it true, she was asked, the part with the fig? Behrou assured him that of course it was true, and that for the rest of the campaign, some jokers in her regiment thought it would hilarious to offer her a fig at any opportunity. From there, she moved on to the next story, a tale that involved a daring mission across enemy lines and how she and a small handful of companions scouted out the enemy’s numbers. She remembered the mission fondly, and especially remembered how it felt to ride a horse with joints that didn’t creak, to sleep in a tent on the ground without aching the next day, or to spring to action at a word and never look back. She was old now, and the vigour of youth was long behind her. Things had been simpler in her youth. She went where the officers told her and fought the enemy because they were the enemy. Your friends were the ones who fought at your back and you never worried more than a month ahead, because who knew if you’d still be alive to deal with it?

At a young age, Behrou had realized that her parents’ farm held nothing for her but a future of marrying a farmer, so she followed the trumpets into the cavalry as soon as she was old enough to do so. She rose through the ranks until she commanded scores of soldiers (but never to officer, of course - she would be insulted to be mistaken for an officer), and every time she screamed a battle charge while stampeding into battle, she thought about how the rows of pikes ahead of her were still a better future to look forward to than season after season of wheat fields. And eventually, after decades of adventure, the borders of the empire began to stabilize, campaigns came fewer and far between, and her treacherous body started having trouble getting on and off a horse. In the end, she retired with honour, a handful of medals, and enough stories to fill a book.

It had been a good life. She took her military pension and bought a house in Asheveh, because even now she wanted to stay as far away from a farm as possible. She’d been all across the empire with the army and seen more of it than most of the patrons in this bar combined. She had a thousand and one tales of daring and valour, and a few more that focused on the naughty bits. As long as her stories kept flowing, so did the beer.

#nightfoot writes things

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