(A/N: Um...um...I don't suppose a simple sorry covers it? But really, what's been holding me up was that I couldn't finish any story I started. I remember staring at my AmeBela story for a long time, thinking, how the heck is this going to end? My AmeViet story snippet failed similarly. Which is why you've got some already written JoanFra drabbles, because you guys deserve SOMETHING. Also two of them because I feel bad and the first one is short. Sorry that I couldn't deliver (YET) on the AmeBela or AmeViet requests...Oh, in this drabble, Victoria = Seychelles, and she is brought up for like, one line. -_-

Thanks to my very incredibly lovely reviewers...I love all of you so much! Please enjoy this very belated chapter. And I didn't realize it 'til this second, but JoanFra actually WAS requested by someone, one .candlelight. :D)

DARLING

"Perfect..." Francis muttered as he gently placed a flower in her hair, then stepped back to observe his work.

She chuckled, and the sound was so pretty and her smile so lovely that Francis felt undeserving standing in front of her. The wind whipped around them, blowing her blonde hair into her face and muffling her next words.

If not for her hair covering her face, he might've seen the tears welling up in her tepid blue eyes. If not for the wind drowning out her voice, he might've heard her whisper, "Just let go."

But he noticed neither of these things, so when she disappeared with the wind and the rose he placed in her hair fell slowly to the ground, Francis stood there in a daze, not entirely sure what had just transpired.

"Why does Uncle Francis go out there every day and talk to the air?" Victoria turned to Arthur.

Arthur looked sad and contemplative for a moment. "I don't know, sweetie." he lied.

DON'T LOOK

"Don't look," he whispers into the back of her hair, breath hot on her scalp. He continues to chant this, as if this mantra is urgent to their survival. However, he knows it is truly useless.

Waterfalls of tears stream down Jeanne's face as she opens an eye, red and swollen from crying, and looks back at her Francis. "You've been so strong-" he begins, and she can hear a sob interrupt him, "It's okay to cry now. You can cry." She hadn't waited for his permission, she thinks, as she sobs more loudly than before. He places a pale hand over her eyes and she doesn't even care that his hand reeks of blood. She's sure her entire body smells of the substance, anyway.

"Are you coming or not?" A voice interrupts the not-quite-tender moment, and both of the blondes snap their head towards the one who had spoken, one Arthur Kirkland. Francis can not even try to send the man a glare that portrays all of his feelings (the sadness, the hatred) at the moment, so he settles for a weary and exhausted frown.

"Remember that I loved you..." he whispers to her, losing composure, as he removes his bloody hand from her eyes. She wishes he'd put it back because when his hand is away, she can see the blazing fire. She settles for closing her eyes. She wishes he'd keep talking because when he stops, she can hear the fire crackling. She leaves herself alone with her thoughts instead. She wishes she was back in his embrace, because he is so so cold, and the fire in front of them is so so hot.
She has no escape from this fire, and instead she kisses him and says, "I always loved you too. Don't forget...I did *everything* for you. Everything. And I don't regret any of it." Francis' heart simultaneously soars and plummets. The declaration that she cared so much about him makes him feel warm, but it also of course means that what is happening now is because of him. She leaves his touch and instantly wants it back. Arthur is tapping his foot behind them, but neither care as they search each other's eyes for the last time.

She sees fear in his eyes, which is ridiculous because she's the one who's supposed to be scared. He sees the love in her eyes, and he thinks that she's the one who earned his love. All he did was sit on the sidelines while she fought for him and gave him every reason to fall hard for her. He almost wants to hate her for making him love her...he had never grown so emotionally attached before.

Arthur leads her away and Francis grits his teeth. She looks back at him imploringly, but he looks away. He knows this moment means a lot to her and that she wants to stare into his eyes as it goes down, but he cannot stand to watch it happen. He squeezes his eyes shut and she doesn't scream once as Arthur chucks her into the inferno and she burns alive.

(A/N: Phew, and there they are. As always, these drabbles are based off of pictures I didn't draw, so just message me if you want to see those pictures! Also you may request pairings for upcoming drabbles, though I will TRY to fulfill the requests I still have first.

I'm sorry for these drabbles ;_; Tragic romance and me...I'm just...I don't know. I don't know if I succeed in being sad or not, or if I'm realistic, or what have you. But I absolutely adore JoanFra so I enjoyed writing this...whether they're crap or not. ;D Still, I may have upheld a JoanFra stereotype that I myself don't like to read...I don't like when JoanFra is seen as a seamless pair, the perfect couple who love each other unconditionally and live for one another. Because no couple is like that, it's just not human or realistic. I'm wondering if I made them too much like the glorified tragic pair here...-_-

Um, please review, and thank you so much if you've stuck with me even with all these slow updates. I make it a goal to respond to all my reviews, but I lost track somewhere since last update. Know that if you read or reviewed, I am eternally grateful and you are my motivation for this story! :D)