#I did not want a precious baby elf who we would love only for them to be taken away from us | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

2-cute-4-school · 4 years ago

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NCT Dream reaction to you getting your wisdom teeth removed

Mark

babysitting the dreamies is part of his daily job so he thinks ‘how hard can it be to take care of you for a few hours pffft’

he’s never regretted underestimating you so bad in his entire life ◑.◑

you’re not just a nightmare

you’re THE ULTIMATE NIGHTMARE

he was so embarrassed when he had to gently drag you out of the dentist’s office while you were crying cuz

“mY TOOTH!! mark, i lost my tooth, what am i gonna do?!?! i should have put a leash on it, i knew it!!!! now it’s gone and it’s all my fault!!!!” (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )

*ugly sobbing* *mark awkwardly patting your back while pulling you away from the scrutinizing glares of a few karens in the waiting room*

“mark. i didn’t even get to name it!!!”

poor bby cheetah mark is SO lost

“baby, hey, don’t cry! we’ll uh…. i’ll get you a new one!” ヾ(ﾟДﾟ;ヾ)

you look up with your glassy eyes and your right cheek chubbier than your left from the cotton lodged where your tooth used to be, your bottom lip trembling oh so cutely

and mark just…stops functioning for a moment because

‘HOW CAN ANYONE BE SO CUTE BUT SUCH A PAIN IN THE ASS AT THE SAME TIME IT’S NOT FAIR !!??!?!?’

“ rweally? would you really do that for me, markie?” (◞‸◟；)

“ASFKSFRDACGCS YES LOML ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING JUST SAY THE WORD AND I’LL BRING THE MOON TO YOUR FEET YOU PRECIOUS LIL BABY” ⊂（♡⌂♡）⊃

and he still insists he’s not 120% whipped for you can you believe it

he ends up piggybacking you all the way back home because your giggles were just too cute for him to resist so he can’t even get tired with how happy he is to witness you so carefree and joyful

and his heart just melts when you leave a huuuge kith with the loudest *MWAH* ever on his cheek and you nuzzle your nose in the crook of his neck that’s like the fatal combination of cute acts ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)

in conclusion : this man just adores you with every bit of his heart :((((

Renjun

probably asked kun to pick you both up from the dentist

you’re just too much for him smh

you’re cute and all but renjun is a tired uncle

so you’re both in the backseat with kun as your driver and it’s silent

renjun just knows something is wrong there’s no way you’re so calm

but you’re just staring at him like ◎_◎

“uh..babe, you alright?”

silence and then *GASP*

renjun just knows he’s about to facepalm himself into another dimension when you grip his cheeks in both hands

“you’re a fAIRY!!!!!!!” (*ﾟﾛﾟ)

*sigh* *muffled words* “y/n let’s calm down and just-”

he doesn’t get another word out before you shove his face in your lap and literally raise his shirt up to the nape of his neck

damn beach you know what you want huh go off

“where are they???!!?!?! where are you hiding them you impostor??!!!?”

and then you start slapping his back

“ow ow OW, Y/N WTF ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?? STOP !!”

“YOUR WINGS!!! WHERE ARE YOUR FRICKIN’ WINGS ?!?!?” (╬ Ò ‸ Ó)

renjun is this 👌 close to knocking you out for good with a karate chop

so he just pushes you off and straps you to your seat with a second safety belt as he huffs under his breath

“i can’t guarantee you’ll live to see next week” (⊙_◎)

kun watching in the rear mirror like （͡°͜ʖ͡°）

“you know what? i’d really eat some chicken wings right now!! jun, let’s go get chicken wings!!!” ⊂((・▽・))⊃

he’s surprised you even remember his name

but you eventually exhaust yourself and pass out in the backseat of the car so renjun and kun drag you to bed

and renjun just tucks you in like the soft loving boyfriend that he is

and he just stares at you fondly and smooches you all over your face cuz

“how tf can you be so cute, you lil overexcited evil? you’re like the cutest thing in the world and it just!!!not!!!fair!!!!!” (♡ ‸ ♡ )

so even though he complains about you a lot, he’d sell his kidney just to see his lil cute bub happy i’m so soft :((((

Lee Jeno

“let’s go to the playground!!”

“y/n, no, let’s go home and put some ice on that cheek”

“but baaaabe i wanna go one the swing” ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

“then we’ll have to ice both cheeks”

“what did ya say???!!?!”

so jeno’s headache only worsened once you both arrived home with no prior stop to the playground

and as much as he loves you he also wants to bang his head against a wall and end his suffering yay o((*^▽^*))o

“just stay still for a second please, i’m really trying to tie this thing properly around your head”

you’re just so restless and jeno is just so done

“does it hurt?”

“ywes, my heart hurts because my own boyfriend doesn’t love me!!!”

“y/n, we already had this conversation, now just-”

“i just wanted a swing!!!” *bursts into tears* *jeno sighs half of his soul out* ଽ (৺ੋ ௦ ৺ੋ )৴

so jeno sits down beside you and pulls you into his lap gently, rocking you back and forth in an attempt to soothe your sobs jeno best boyfriend no cap

“there there, baby, we can’t go out-” *sobs intensify* “BUT i promise i’ll get you a swing right here if you let me take care of you first”

you leech yourself onto jeno’s sleeve and wipe your tears on his shirt but he doesn’t seem to mind the wet patch left on the material as he watches you with that soft look of his (´-ω-`)

so you let him patch you up after his reassurance and after he just pats your head affectionately and motions for you to stand up

and this man just flexes his arms and nudges you to latch on

that’s how jeno ends up with a squealing you as you swing back and forth with your fingers gripping his arm ╰(✧∇✧╰)

Lee Haechan

you want to pretty him up

because “since my left cheek looks like it’s stuffed with a tennis ball, i can’t carry the visuals in this relationship for a while, so i need to hand the responsibility over to you”

“who even said you’re the one carrying the visuals” ℃ↂ_ↂ

“oh honey you’re only now realizing?”

(╬☉д⊙)⊰⊹ฺ

he blames the anesthesia for your severe accusations

but the only way to shut you up is give in to your wishes

so that’s how he found himself seated down on the carpet of your home with your legs draped over his and your totally professional make up applied over his face

“i look like a clown”

“not even make up can cover your true identity, hyuck”

deep breaths, donghyuck, in and out, take it easy (◎ω◎*)

“any preferences for the nail polish color?”

“to match my soul”

“so hot pink” o(≧∇≦o)

*poker face* “you know i could obliviate you if i wanted to clown you”

*pout that hurts hyuck’s lil heart* “but you wouldn’t do that to your hurting baby, would you” *blinks rapidly with puppy eyes*

“you bet i would” (no he wouldn’t you’re just too cute and he loves you too much) *totally not whipped (♥ω♥*)*

painting his nails is the hugest struggle in your entire life

“WHY TF ARE THEY SO SHORT, ARE THEY TAKING AFTER YOU”

on second thought, mercy is no longer available for you

“hyuck, you should tape your fingers so you won’t bite your nails like a preschooler anymore”

“i’ll tape your mouth shut, that’s what i’ll tape” *_*

“hUH???!?!!?” (*ﾟﾛﾟ)

Na Jaemin

“okay jisung is an easy task compared to you right now”

even though this man is used to being the mom of the group

he’s still most likely in disbelief watching his otherwise angel flap around like a headless chicken

but you’re even cutter with your swollen cheek so he forgives you (︶▽︶)

“hey, jaem, did you know i’m closely related to snails??”

“entertain me” (∩_∩)

“they can sleep for years at once. that’s like my main talent.”

“it would be great for me if you’d put this talent of yours to work now”

jaemin ends up sprawled over the couch and watching dramas like a tired mom of 3 hyperactive children with you curled up at his side playing games on his phone

*hiccup*

jaemin’s brain before he even registered the sound : something’s wrong

“y/n baby?” (｡•́︿•̀｡)

*hiccup* *sniffle* *hiccup*

jaemin’s overprotective instincts kicked in ಠ╭╮ಠ

he knocks the phone out of the way and swings your legs over his lap to cradle you against his chest and hush you with the gentlest coos while rubbing your back up and down softly

“what happened, my love? does it hurt? tell nana what’s wrong and he’ll get rid in a second of what dared hurt his precious baby” just imagine this man this would be like the peak of my life 🥺

so in between your boyfriend’s comforting whispers and your harsh breaths of air you managed to let out a few words

“e-elephants, nana”

he already knows the biggest facepalm is coming his way -_-

“tHEy CAn’T jUmP, tHE poOR ELephANTs”

(ノ-_-)ノ~┻━┻

he just sighs and continues rocking you in his arms until you doze off, slumped on his chest, your head cushioned by his shoulder

he softly shakes his head at you and lays a butterfly kiss on your forehead

“i would make elephants jump just for you, my cute big baby” ♡♡(￫ε￩*)

Zhong Chenle

he halfway panics at the way you act

you’re usually the one who takes care of him so your childish act that surfaced because of the anesthesia took him by surprise

“dude they brainwashed y/n” (ﾉ｀□´)ﾉ

once you start babbling to him about the end of the rainbow and the elf that awaits there with a pot full of golden coins he knew you lost it

calls renjun

“hyung i’m sorry for saying you’re batshit crazy with your conspiracies, but aliens kidnapped y/n”

*muffled voices on the other side*

“NO, I’M NOT DRUNK!! they brainwashed y/n or even worse… returned a cheap copy of them”

renjun probably just tells him to put you to sleep and advises chenle to do the same with himself -_-

so chenle just approaches you very carefully, his voice barely above a whisper

“hey, babe, aren’t you tired?”

“actually no, how about a walk in the park???”

“idk y/n, it doesn’t seem like the best idea”

“PLEASE” 🥺

“THIS IS THE BEST IDEA OF THE YEAR BABY!!!11!!”

this man is royally whipped for you so he takes you to the nearest park and keeps a careful watch on you as you bend down to pet every dog that passes by ⊂((・▽・))⊃

while he would do anything for you, he’s very panicky about your safety so he has to hold your hand the entire time and you’re not allowed to leave his side for even a second overprotective boyfriend check

mid walk you take a break on a bench and you lean your head on cheble’s shoulder before muttering sleepily

“lele, i’m tired, imma take a nap”

“are you serious rn” (ಠ_ಠ)

but you’re already a goner and chenle is left fuming by himself

despite his annoyance he still adjusts you so he can piggyback you home and hums songs softly every time you stir (灬♥ω♥灬)

you’ll have to baby him an entire week to pay him back

Park Jisung

this boy is actually quite pleased

because for once he can take care of you and not the other way around without any complaints coming from you

so you both end up curled into each other under a blanket while watching the Frozen movies :((((((((

and for once he ends up watching you more than he watches the movie because you’re so cute reciting all of Olaf’s lines ꒰˘̩̩̩⌣˘̩̩̩๑꒱

but the fun can only last for so long

and when your mouth starts feeling ‘funny’ jisung’s mind goes haywire

“sung, i’m gonna die”

panic panic PANIC (ｼ;ﾟДﾟ)ｼ

“they poisoned you didn’t they??? i knew it!! i knew dentists are evil, how am i gonna explain i let crazy doctors perform dark magic on you???!!?!?” no offense to dentists y’all are life savers

so you have at least 2 ice packs and a bag of frozen peas clutched against your cheek and you swear you’re about to die from frostbite rather than the weird feeling coming from your teeth

and then jisung wraps you in a mountain of blankets cuz ‘we can’t have you catching a cold now too’ as if sweating your ass off is gonna fight off the numbing cold on your face ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

but babie is confused a tad lot bit scared for both his and your life

and you’re kinda very dazed so comforting him isn’t really in your agenda

he probably worries within an inch of his life ヾ( ๑´д`๑)ﾂ

too afraid to let you fall asleep just in case

so every time you doz off sweet cutie jisung just kithes you (๑°꒵°๑)･*♡

and you wake up just to kiss back your cute boyfriend

and he just chuckles and blows raspberries on your neck man jisung would be such a cute whipped boyfriend

but he ends up asleep next to you with his face buried in your hair and arms tightly wrapped around you cocooning you close to himself ah i’m getting soft again ♡(㋭ ਊ ㋲)♡

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therenlover · 3 years ago

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Would The Danny Bunch Survive A Holiday With My Family?

A/n: In the wake of recent life garbage, I have neglected to write a whole fic, and I’m sorry. In the interim, please enjoy this writing exercise I have put together in the hopes of nailing some characters I haven’t written for in the past in time for a larger project I’m working on! Cheers!

Characters: Laszlo Kreizler, Alex Kerner, Niki Lauda, Andrea Marowski, Ernst Schmidt, and Helmut Zemo

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Mild Misogyny, Mentions of Alcohol/Alcoholism, Mentions of Mental Illness, Non-Graphic Mentions of Death, Minor Spoilers for The Alienist Season One, Minor Spoilers for Goodbye, Lenin!, Spoilers for Rush (2013), Minor Spoilers for The Cloverfield Paradox maybe??? I haven’t actually seen the whole movie, blame Wikipedia if things are wrong.

Laszlo Kreizler

As the first of all of the Dannys to be put through the ringer, Laszlo Kreizler unfortunately would not survive a holiday with my family.

First of all, this man does not like massive huggy kissy crowds, so he’d already be off his game the second he walked into the packed house. That’s not why he’d die though, surprisingly.

His downfall would be his status as an Alienist.

There is simply so much mental illness and childhood trauma present at my family holidays that he would combust within 15 minutes of sitting in a room with all of my relatives.

Even if he were to somehow make it past the introductory phase, my family is nosey as hell, so they’d be grilling him about his arm and his own childhood trauma within the first hour.

Laszlo, for all of his strength, simply wouldn’t be able to withstand it.

His death wouldn’t come from the initial combustion though. No, it’s not that simple.

Knowing Laszlo, once he had combusted and entirely lost his composure the first time, he would become extremely intrigued about the interconnected nature of everyones issues with each other and he would start asking questions.

That’s where the problems would begin.

Because it’s one thing if my drunk great aunt starts badmouthing her sister at the table for abandoning her 90 year old mother for a lake house with her new boyfriend. That’s fine.

But when Laszlo hops in and starts picking apart the mommy issues and underlying reasons for their decades long sibling rivalry?

Oh it would be over for him.

The yelling would never end.

And, I have no doubt that Laszlo would start to psychoanalyze whoever started to yell at him, which would only lead to more yelling.

In the end, someone would throw a probably full and probably fresh out of the oven casserole dish at his head and he’d be unable to defend himself because of his weak arm.

We’d have to cart him out in a wheelchair and even if he were to technically survive, he’d never come back.

Therefor, Laszlo Kreizler would fall victim to my family and die before we even got to dessert.

Alex Kerner

YES

Ah, little baby Alex! A great contender here for holiday survival.

He seems relatively young in comparison to most of the Dannys on this list, though I don’t actually know how old he’s supposed to be.

Based on his relative youth, he would automatically get points with the fam for not seeming like a creep or sugar daddy. Instead, he could be just about any dude I brought home from college.

His skillset as a semi-skilled laborer would also earn him some points, seeing as several members of the family are in similar professions.

Alex might get lost in some of the more complex conversations about the local organic scene or the fine details of running a fine art gallery, but he would fit right in with the majority of the younger members of the family, smiling and nodding his way through the conversation.

His enthusiasm and optimism would brighten the room and leave everyone excited to see him around again.

There’s also the semi-small detail of him caring for his mother, which would earn sympathy from the older members of the family as they are in charge of caring for my deaf, blind great grandmother.

Now, all of these aspects have already set Alex up for a successful survival of a holiday dinner with my family, but the real secret weapon he has up his sleeve is what really cements him in place as a survivor.

What is his secret weapon, you may ask?

Lies.

Alex Kerner is really, really good at lying, and is even better at figuring out increasingly convoluted ways to keep his lies straight.

If he managed to hide to fuckin’ Berlin Wall coming down from his mother for as long as he did, he could keep a couple of white lies up for appearances if he was asked any potentially embarrassing or weird questions that would make him look bad.

He could also lie about enjoying my great aunt’s cooking, which is a vital skill for holiday survival in my family.

Therefor, at the end of the day, Alex Kerner would not only survive a holiday with my family, but he’d probably enjoy it and get invited back for every subsequent holiday he could possibly attend.

Niki Lauda

Niki is another Danny that falls very firmly into the category of characters that would absolutely not survive a holiday with my family, for many, many reasons.

First of all, just like Laszlo, Niki is not huge on going to big huggy kissy parties.

Both adults and children would be all over him the second he walked in the door, which would probably make Niki get very uncomfortable and cagey.

Little does he know at that point that people aren’t just all over you when you get in the door.

No, no, no; from the moment you show up to the moment you leave, if you’re at a holiday with my family you are being basically accosted with questions and hugs and conversations that get weirdly personal.

It doesn’t help that the whole entire house is packed and there are eyes on you at every moment, so he wouldn’t even be able to sneak in a break for air or a cigarette.

If my own mother can’t sneak out for a smoke when she’s been going to these events her whole life, the new guy who’s still being vetted by the family sure as hell won’t be able to either.

Needless to say, Niki would start to get really, really tired of it all in an hour tops. I’ll give him until dinner at most.

That’s where things would start getting really sticky.

See, a lovely little fact about the Niki Lauda that lives in my brain, as portrayed by Daniel Bruhl in Rush (2013), is that he’s just a little bit misogynistic. No more than would be period typical, but a little misogynistic.

Another fun little important thing to note is that my family is entirely matriarchal in nature.

There are only 4 reoccurring male guests at family holidays out of about 20 to 25 guests at each event; My great aunt’s husband of many, many years, the two male siblings my mother has that live in the area, and the young son of one of those siblings.

Men, specifically boyfriends, simply do not last in my family. They are considered pretty disposable and easily banned from family events after breakups or small mishaps.

So, not only would Niki not have any other manly men there to chat about sports with over a scotch and a cigarette, he would be surrounded by so much estrogen that he would definitely struggle with his inner asshole even more than usual.

In fact, we never have sports on, even on Thanksgiving. Poor Niki would be stuck hearing conversations about artisanal candlemakers and how to hand felt a woodland elf puppet.

Back to his downfall, the second he made a slightly sketchy joke about women in the kitchen at the dinner table to my great uncle, his fate would be sealed.

If you thought the yelling at Laszlo would have been bad, this yelling would be ten times worse, because he would be surrounded by like 20 very angry, very defensive, and very strong women waiting to beat the shit out of him and I would not be any help.

He dug the hole, so he can climb out of it.

In the end, his death would come when he tried to light a cigarette and calm himself down at the dinner table while trying to rescind his earlier statement, because smoking inside around all the precious textile art? Thats a big no no.

My great aunt would grab the lighter right out of his hand, light up whatever cocktail she had at the moment, and throw it all directly into Niki’s face.

It would be like crashing his car all over again, only this time he would be surrounded by people who would rather he burn than try to get him out of the situation.

Moral of the story, Niki would die within the first few hours of a holiday with my family because he made an asshole comment to a room full of women who don’t put up with that shit. Don’t be like Niki, even if you think you won’t get killed for it.

Andrea Marowski

YES

Andrea is pretty much the polar opposite of Niki here, and I love him for it.

He is very soft, very kind, very pure, and would never dare to say something rude at the dinner table like a certain racer we all know.

He couldn’t even say something rude if he tried to, because he probably wouldn’t have the English in his vocabulary to say the things he wanted to say even if he intended to say them out loud.

But let’s be honest here, Andrea would never.

Even with his limited English, Andrea would appreciate being surrounded by a whole bunch of people who think he’s the sweetest little thing since the invention of cake.

My great grandmother, despite being almost entirely blind and deaf, would say he looked darling and he would immediately be a member of the family from the moment he stuttered out his thanks.

Andrea, like Alex, is also relatively young, so he would get points for not being old enough to be my father.

I feel like, because Andrea was shown living happily in a tiny village by the ocean with two old ladies, he would have an appreciation for craft, so he wouldn’t mind sitting quietly as my great aunt pawns off a handmade blanket from my great grandmother to him.

He would also happily sit with the younger children and do whatever craft or simple game one of my aunts brought for them that time.

The cherry on top with Andrea is his skill with the violin.

My family is one that appreciates fine art a lot, but more than anything we appreciate music.

I wouldn’t say that any of us are anywhere close to Andrea’s proficiency, but we definitely aren’t terrible, and we all can appreciate the effort, practice, and talent that goes into getting truly good on an instrument like Andrea is on his violin.

He would be encouraged to play, of course, and he would happily oblige.

If he felt comfortable enough, I could even see my great uncle grabbing his guitar, my cousin sitting at the piano, and my sister bringing out her own violin to do a little quartet with some simple song they knew as everybody else sang along.

By the end of the holiday evening, once dinner was served and people were heading to the cars, Andrea would definitely be considered a member of the family.

Needless to say, he’d survive and pass their tests with better than flying colors, even despite the language barrier.

Ernst Schmidt

Now, Ernst was probably the most difficult one on this entire list to put into the living or dying category. In the end, though, there were a few things that couldn’t be overlooked that send him into bad territory.

To be fair, though, he would last the longest out of everyone who would die tragically at one of my family’s holiday gatherings.

He, like the past two victims, would not be exactly suited for the mushy crowding that’s inevitable when it comes to my family.

That being said, I think he would deal with it a little bit better than the other two did and would make polite conversation with the family when he could.

The fact that he was trapped in a packed house filled with drunk people who have several generations worth of beef with each other, though, would start to get him eventually.

If we consider all of the shit that happened while he was in space to be canonical minus, you know, the earth getting really fucked up, he would probably start to go a little bit nuts while packed together with that many passive aggressive people.

The second someone burst into tears on the way to the bathroom he would start to lose his shit.

Still, I think Schmidt would probably be fine-ish until dessert was served, because that’s about the time where all the adults are absurdly drunk, so insanity ensues.

They would start poking at him about his credentials and experiences as a physicist.

He would answer their questions at first, but, unfortunately for him, the questions would turn more and more personal and uncomfortable as time went on.

Did he ever still think about what happened up in space? Did he blame himself for not getting things to work correctly? How much did he miss his old world and old life? Did he ever have nightmares about what he saw? How much did it hurt to get shot?

They’d poke and poke and poke in their drunken state until poor Schmidt would snap at them, flying into a slight rage at their insistent probing.

From there, he would be swiftly asked to leave and then “accidentally” run over while calling an Uber to take him to wherever he’s staying as my drunk great aunt tries to back out of the driveway to drive down the block to her house.

In the end, Schmidt and his wit would be really close to surviving a holiday with my family , but he would, unfortunately, let his anger get the best of him, and it would be the last thing he ever did. Literally.

Helmut Zemo

YES, BUT ONLY BARELY

Okay, so my earlier comment about Ernst being the most difficult out of everyone was incorrect. Zemo was, by far, the hardest to put into one category or the other.

His wit and charm won out in the end, though, and I determined that he would survive one single holiday with my family.

If he ever came back for a second he definitely wouldn’t make it, but he would succeed in living past the first one.

Helmut’s problems start, surprisingly, not with the fact that he is a criminal. In fact that doesn’t even cause any problems for him.

No, instead they start with the fact that he is 43.

I am 99% sure that my mother is 43, and I know for a definite fact that he’s older than one of my uncles who would be present. I, at the time of writing this, am 18.

Needless to say, literally everyone would be massively suspicious of him and his intentions the second he walked through the door. The amount of money in his bank account definitely wouldn’t help in this situation either.

The family would warm up to him eventually, though, because if there’s one thing Helmut is good at besides killing people, it’s making people like him even if they absolutely shouldn’t.

With his expansive knowledge of what feels like literally everything rich and niche, he would slowly win over the older members of the family. Who knew the strange old man Jac brought home was so well versed in the American pottery scene, or that he could name specific jewelry artists from across the world that my family had done business with for years?

My family definitely wouldn’t. At least, not at first.

Oh how they’d learn, though.

Another nice thing about Zemo that would allow him to survive is his aggressive politeness.

No matter how many weird glances or dirty looks he got over the course of dinner, he would simply continue to be the best version of himself in the hopes of impressing everyone.

He would even pretend to enjoy my great aunt’s cooking and get himself seconds, because I’m sure it would be easier to scarf down than whatever he and his EKO Scorpion squad had to eat while serving in the Sokovian special forces.

On the tail end of reasons he would be accepted, Helmut Zemo drinks alcohol like it’s water, so he would fit right in drinking white wine and cocktails through the night with the rest of the adults.

((I think he’d totally tease me about not being able to drink with him, but that’s a story for another time. Anyways...))

His slight downfall would come from something entirely uncontrollable by him or anybody else.

And that something would be my flirty aunt.

I love my aunt. She’s wonderful in her own special way.

That being said, I know if a hot Sokovian baron with a nice smile and a fat pocketbook showed up to one of out holidays, even if he was introduced as my partner, she would be going for the kill all night long.

This would make Helmut more and more uncomfortable as she got more and more drunk, because lets face it, he’s probably not very comfortable with being touched by near-strangers anyways, and being touched by a drunk member of his partners family who is very obviously coming on to him?

That’s even more difficult to deal with.

That being said, Helmut is a man who has been shown to be extremely in control of his emotions.

He would swallow down whatever awkwardness he felt, make it to the end of the night, and, once he had escaped her clutches, he would politely say that he was never going back to another holiday function with my family again, though he would be happy to facilitate me still attending them.

So, in the end, Helmut Zemo would survive one holiday with his sheer stubborn politeness alone.

I will say that his patience would absolutely wear thin if he attended a couple more holidays and he would eventually die of a stress induced heart attack after being unable to politely decline my aunt’s advances.

For now, though, he’s safe.

#zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #niki lauda #andrea marowski #ernst schmidt #laszlo kreizler #alex kerner #jac rambles #imagine #the danny bunch

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midearthwritings · 4 years ago

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Shooting Star

It is your birthday, and Thorin fears you might hate him in the future.

Words Count : 841

Pairing : Thorin & Kid!Reader

Warning : None

Author’s Note : Another request by the lovely @anjhope1 who gave me the opportunity to finally write some Thorin fluff. Hope you enjoy!

From behind the door, the King under the Mountain could hear your soft giggles resonating in the room like thousands of tiny bells dancing in the wind. He knew you were not alone, for your melodic laughter was accompanied by his nephews’ baritone ones. You never were, alone. He did not let you be, not yet. You were still such a fragile and delicate creature, and most of all, he did not want you to feel as if you were being abandoned.

Until the end of time, he would curse the power given to him at birth and the duties that came with it. Was being King truly a blessing when it kept him away from you, his greatest treasure? Since the day you were born, losing your mother and condemned to grow with only the love of an absent father, he had feared the hatred you might feel towards him in the future. He had feared the day you would look upon him with empty eyes, silently asking him why he was never there.

“It is my turn now, brother!” The offended voice of his youngest nephew brought Thorin back to reality. Quietly, as if not to disturb the three of you, he reached for the doorknob.

“Aye, Fee!” The King smiled softly. Throughout his life, he had heard the most beautiful songs, performed by people from all Kingdoms. But no music played by any dwarf, elf or man would ever reach the perfection of your innocent voice. “Kee’s turn to make me fly!”

He pushed the door open, and the sight that welcomed him warmed his heart in a way that would have made the Sun jealous. Perched on Kíli’s shoulders, your tiny fingers gripping his hair, you were laughing wholeheartedly. Despite having given his place to his brother, Fíli was not laughing any less. The smiles on his heirs’ faces matched yours, and the King couldn’t help the one that was now curving his lips.

Bouncing and twirling, too preoccupied with amusing you, your cousins did not notice Thorin joining your little party, and neither did you. So, for a moment, he stood still, quietly observing, painting this pure happiness in his memory. How envious they must all have felt when he was the one with the most precious treasure in Middle Earth.

“Careful sister-son.” he spoke up, stepping forward. Kíli’s movement ceased and the three of you turned to face him. “I wouldn’t want our Mizimith to fall to the floor and get hurt.”

The familiar voice made you squeal excitedly, and little fingers clutched harder at Kíli’s mane, making him hiss in pain.

“Adad!” You cried out, wiggling like a tiny worm trying to dig his way out of the earth. Delicately, you were put down by the Crown prince. And as soon as your feet touched the floor, you rushed into your father’s arm.

Thorin looked down at you fondly, resting his hand on your shoulder. To Hell his royal duties and those who wished for him to get a woman to care for you. You were his only, and he would not share your love with anyone else.

With a happy sigh, you nuzzled your face in his tunic before pulling back. More precious than any gem he owned, more precious even than mithril.

“We thought you would not be able to make it, uncle.” Fíli said softly, standing beside his brother. What a sight they were as well, those too. They were like the Sun and the Moon, shining endlessly in the sky. And you were the stars, truly beautiful and irreplaceable. Without you, the picture was not complete, tasteless and sad.

“I will always be able to show up for my Kidhuzel’s special day.” As he pronounced the words, his hand enveloped yours. It was big, you thought, compared to your tiny baby paw. Slowly, you reached forward to place a gentle kiss on Thorin’s knuckles.

The King closed his eyes, the turmoil of ever losing you beginning to rage again inside of him. Perhaps, this fateful day would never come, the day when you would realize he had not been with you as much as he had wanted to. But if it ever did come, he knew he would never be able to forgive himself.

He felt you tugging at his garments, forcing him to slightly lean forward. So small and already so strong. He looked down at you, burying his worries deep inside of him.

“Kee and Fee got me presents!” you exclaimed, pointing at wooden toys, discarded on the floor. Of course, they would spoil you, for they loved you greatly. Yet, it was he that loved you the most.

“I shall take a look at them, my treasure.” He said, letting you guide him through the room. “And then, perhaps, I can give you mine.”

Sparkling with excitement, your eyes made him think of the stars again. You were his greatest, most precious treasure. Maybe the day your heart is filled with hatred towards him would never come.

----------

Translation :

Adad→Father

Kidhuzel→Gold of Gold

Mizimith→Jewel that is Young

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit reader insert #thorin #Thorin Oakenshield #thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin oakenshield x reader

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depths-of-your-soul · 4 years ago

Note

Hiii! I saw that requests are open so how about artist S/O? Like the reader would be very bored in class and they just, doodle todoroki, bakugou, and tamaki from afar with little notes beside the doodles like "i can't do his hair wtf is this" "why is he so adorable" "stOP MOVING I CANT GET YOUR HANDS RIGHT" and then one day they just saw the little doodles? Idk the thought of it makes soft- unless you already did something similar then I'm stoopid dhxbhxhd.

#Artist!S/o who doodles them during class

Pairs: Katsuki bakugou x reader, Shouto Todoroki x reader, Tamaki Amajiki x reader

Notes: I can personally relate with this s/o HAHAHA I always get annoyed whenever my subject moves around so much that it messes with the anatomy of the previous pose and I would ALWAYS get so irritated that I give up

A reminder that request is open y'all!! :D

Katsuki Bakugou

• Katsuki with his resting face is simply angelic

• You wouldn't think that such a person would cause such havoc around him

• And one of the few places where he has his guard down would be during class

• So naturally, you cry internally trying to draw his unnecessarily spikey hair because IT'S JUST ALL OVER THE PLACE H E L P

• Where in the world does his hair even come from? It's just a bunch of spikes

• Does it hurt to touch? òmó

• Anyways, you just find his resting face so precious that before you knew it, you had 5 pages dedicated to just him

• And him alone

• Little did you know, Katsuki has been feeling your intense stares throughout the lessons

• 'What are you doing???'

• 'Stop staring at me stupid'

• Those were all in his head

• To be fair, you were being blatantly obvious

• So after class, he couldn't take it and went right to you with his iconic "ònó" face

• Swoopty Doodle Doo you have achieved "Bakuhoe fanclub prez"

• Seriously. That is embarrassing. Not for you but for him

• Everyone knows Katsuki has an 'above average' face (we all know he be hot)

• Expect curses and new found words to be thrown at you while everyone around hears of a daring fan who came out of the closet and presented their fanart to thy lord explosion murder

• It's not the drawings that made him embarrassed

• Oh no dear it's not

• It's the fact that YOU drew him when you could've just asked him in your free time at his dorm

• Truth be told, he might shout at you, but he never raises his fists against you when neither are sparring

• God please stop being oblivious

Shouto Todoroki

• Alright simps, let's get down to simping

• His face, oh so perfect

• Every nook and cranny, it's so beautiful that we cannot explain it in words

• His scar? Merely an addition to his hot and cool nickname

• Those red burns in contrast to his beautiful arctic coloured eyes tells a story that made him for who he is

• Such fine hair strands that flows oh so serene against the gentle breeze that flew great lengths to bless him with their cool element

• Okay I'll stop-

• Shouto is simply a living statue, it's in his genes

• He knows he doesn't look bad but that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate compliments

• Drawing him will literally be a blessing in and of itself

• Such art should be loved by all forms

• Unlike Bakugou, he won't pretend to not feel your gazes

• He will make eye contact with you at some point and smile at you as a form of greeting

• HAVE YOU SEEN HIS SMILE

• Being so pretty is a sin

• After class, he would go up to you and ask what you are doing

• After you tell him and apologize, he will assure you that he doesn't mind and that he appreciates it

• He will however ask that you let him see it afterwards

• Of course, that is only because he wants to spend time with you

• This mochi is so cute I love him uwu

Tamaki Amajiki

• Don't lie to me

• I know you can see how cute and adorable he is

• His elven ear is his icon

• Your sketches have certain details that never fails to be missed - it's those blush at his ears and the way his mouth seem to always be pursed

• But then again, throughout your sketches, you would constantly go "OMAGAD STOO BEING SO CUTE I CANT HANDLE THIS CUTENESS OVERLOAD" and "Babey I love you but PLEASE stop moving"

• Those frustrations are worth it though, you know love it

• The way he stares off into space at times are the best times to sketch those details

• He may accidentally see you looking at him while he tries to glance at you from time to time

• But that doesn't really do anything except for the fact that his face will burn and he might cover his face out of embarrassment

• To be fair, you know you love seeing that side of him

• It just makes anyone go \(>w<)/

• Honestly, his movements are joy in and off itself

• This babey elf does enjoy the fact that you, too, glances at him

• Though he will admit, the attention does get a bit too much at times

• He won't go up to you after class though, he will instead hide in the comfort of Mirio's presence seeing as he might melt if you stare at him too much

• How did he find out you ask? Well, simple

• It's the cliche bumbparoo. But not with Tamaki oh no my dear not with this elven baby

• Mirio was too busy laughing and accidentally bumped into you... And voila you sketchbook went flying to the wall and opened at one of the countless pages of Tamaki

• Of course he saw, my dear. But... He may or may not have fainted from the affection

• Go talk to him! He may be shy, but he will be so glad that you even look at him

• I love this elf uwu

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panic-based-riot · 3 years ago

Text

Gilded Chapter 1

Fandom: Inheritance Cycle

Pairing: Murtagh x OC, Eragon x OC, love triangle

Warnings: None

Ilirea tightened the blue scarf around her white blonde hair, tugging the sides to make sure they were snug. A small sigh passed her lips. Thankfully it was still in place. The men, or rather boys, who had been tugging at it were currently still on the streets, being scolded by their fathers on how to properly treat a woman. Slipping further away, between two houses, she turned and made her way past the edge of the village.

Ceris was small, situated at the eastern edge of Du Weldenvarden, the forest that housed the elves and their cities. The houses were small, only a single road running from the forest to the outer edge of the village. The houses seemed to grow right from the ground, as all did in the forest. Only here, on the outskirts of the forest, were humans allowed to dwell. But that didn’t stop Ilirea from wanting to see more of it. No matter how many times her mother had warned her, even on her deathbed. As the distance between Ceris and herself increased, Ilirea reached up and tugged the scarf from her head. Her straight hair tumbled in a silvery wave down her back, and the tips of her ears poked through. Not as prominent or sharp as any elf, but not the rounded ears of anyone else in her village.

Her mother had told her stories of her father when she was young. An elf from deep within the forest, who had met her mother while she was out harvesting berries from the forest. When she was almost killed by his companion who mistook her for a trespasser, her father had saved her mother’s life. And so, knowing how the Elves valued plants and their fruits, her mother offered her harvest, and to never take from the plants again. Her father had refused the offer, and asked instead for a warm meal and a bed for the night. Ilirea scoffed as she wandered through the trees. He had gotten a little more than that.

Kicking a small stone in her path, Ilirea sighed, and let out a soft curse. If her father were still alive, she wished he would come for her. Hiding her ears was easy enough, but her thin angular face and slanted eyes were another thing altogether. At least the trees did not judge nor mock her, and if they did it was only in the language of rustling leaves. The forest seemed to speak to her, to the soft music that whispered in her mind and the traces of elf magic in her veins. And so it called to her, beckoning.

With a sad breath, she sat at the base of a tree, closing her eyes briefly. She leaned her head back, her hands brushing the ground absentmindedly. They froze as she ran across something smooth and hard. Her fingers ghosted back across the surface under her fingers. She turned to look at the ground, and saw a bright yellow object, mostly obscured by dirt and small plants. She knelt, brushing the dirt away with both hands, pulling out the small plants that had rooted in the shallow soil. When enough of the object was cleared, she started gently pushing on it, rocking it back and forth to loosen it.

Slowly the dirt around it gave way and she slid her fingers into the crevice she had made next to the large object which she now suspected was some kind of jewel or precious stone. Pulling, Ilirea tugged it out of the dirt, nearly falling backwards with the effort. She picked it up, running her hands over it to brush off the dirt, and her almond shaped eyes widened. She had heard stories about the object she now held in her hands and had watched often from under the trees as the hero Rider Eragon had flown over on the beautiful blue dragon Saphira. They were undoubtedly working to restore the nation after they had freed them from the tyranny of Galbatorix. She also on occasion saw the elf queen Rider Arya and her emerald dragon Fírnen flying in the distance over Du Weldenvarden. But never in her 20 years had she imagined that she would hold this in her hands.

“A dragon’s egg…” Her voice came out as a whisper, and almost in response the egg thrummed lightly. Ilirea laughed softly, and stood, cradling the egg as gently as she would a newborn baby. Reaching down, she set it gently on the forest floor, then lifted the side of her top skirt. Pulling it through her skirt hike, she looped it up high, creating a small pouch-like area where she could easily carry the egg without others seeing it. She picked it up and gently deposited it into the new pocket she had just made. It settled in gently, thrumming softly against her thigh.

Ilirea gently made her way through the forest and back to the town, keeping one hand on the egg in her skirts. Just outside of the town she paused, wrapping her blue scarf back around her head and tied it on to hide her pointed ears. Satisfied she had hidden them well, she headed into town. Inside the gates, she waved hello to friends, but politely made her way straight home. Once she reached the one room house on the far side of the village, she closed and bolted the door behind her. Settling in the center of the room, she pulled out the yellow egg, running her hands over the smooth, cool surface. It felt warm and alive, and carried the scent of the forest. Dirt crumbled away as she cleaned it, speaking as she did so.

“The proper thing to do would be to find a way to get you to Queen Arya or Queen Nasuada. That way they could get you to Rider Eragon.” The egg thrummed again, deeper than before, as if displeased with the notion. “I don’t want to do that either.” For some reason, she didn’t want to part with it although she knew the chances of it hatching for her were slim. Soon the beautiful yellow egg was clean, and Ilirea caressed it gently. For her to have such a treasure in her hands...she was unworthy. She quickly placed the egg on the solid wooden floor and stood.

“Well, I don’t really know what a dragon egg needs…” Ilirea looked around and gathered some spare blankets from a chest in the corner of the room, and folded them together to make a nest of sorts. Pushing them together, she sighed, and reached into the back of her mind. The elven blood in her veins had gifted her with magic, though her mother had forbidden her use of it. Pushing through the barrier, she whispered one of the few words she knew. “Verma.” Energy flowed out of her, and the blankets in her arms grew warm, heated just enough to be comfortable.

Ilirea set them on the ground, resting herself next to them, breathing slightly harder from the effort. A moment passed and when she trusted her arms enough, she picked up the egg and set it in the now-warm nest of blankets. As she held it, she felt it thrum again and energy flowed from it, strengthening her after her spell. She quickly released it, breaking the connection and she pulled her hands close to her chest.

“Thank you, but I don’t deserve your magic.” The egg thrummed so low that it seemed to growl at her, and she sighed. “I shouldn’t even exist. But hopefully that will be enough to keep you comfortable, at least for the night.” Glancing around the small home, Ilirea stood. “Tomorrow, we leave. I have to take you to Queen Nasuada. She’ll give you to Rider Eragon.” She paused, “He will know what to do.” At that, the egg thrummed a discordant, unhappy pitch, then fell silent. Ilirea sighed and changed into her night clothes, collapsing on her small bed, and soon sleep overtook her.

Part 1/??

Taglist: @raiikuiii @gilded-moon @thebluemoonwolf @overlordspirit18 @nightsshadow1

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist

#riot writes things #the inheritance cycle #Eragon #eragon shadeslayer #eragon bromsson #dragon rider #inheritance cycle oc #inheritance cycle Fanfiction #IC fanfic #murtagh morzanson #murtagh #saphira bjarskülar #saphira #gilded Fanfiction

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hogwartsfirebolt · 4 years ago

Note

Ways you said I love you prompt: Without needing to say the words

I couldn’t find this prompt on the list, but it was so beautiful the story started writing itself in my head. Thank you very much for asking ❤️

Ways you said I love you: Without needing to say the words.

Draco dreams of the forest. A forest, he supposes, but it feels like the forest.

In the dream, he’s holding a stone and looking at the ghostly figure of Harry Potter. In the dream, he’s crying. He can hear his parents calling out for him, he can hear, still, the echo of bombardas that he knows should have ended hours before.

He knows, in the dream, that things had gone the way he always knew they had to. He knows that he wishes they hadn’t. That, in the dream, he’s devastated.

That heartbreak follows him into daylight, drapes itself over him like a cloak. He feels it when he wakes, feels it as he walks the halls of the manor he commands, feels it as he’s told by his house elf that his father has called by floo and is waiting for him. He feels it as he hears him say, “the Potter boy was seen in Dorset three days ago. You know what to do if you find him.”

The heartbreak follows him all day, because he knows if he sees Harry Potter, he has to kill him. He knows that he will. And he mourns him already, the man he has never met, the man who is more legend than man, because he remembers himself standing in that forest. Because, in a dream, he knew him.

He also knows what’s expected of him, and he will follow through. Even if it kills him.

But this is not that kind of story.

What happened was this: the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord was born as the seventh month died.

And so, one fateful Halloween night, the man who called himself Lord Voldemort aimed his wand at that baby, after killing everyone standing on his way. He didn’t flinch or bat an eye, way past the point of hesitating before taking a life, even if it was the life of an innocent, wide-eyed one year old who stared at him with his arms outstretched, looking for comfort. He aimed his wand and said the words that would kill him.

The babe, defenseless, just sat there.

...but killing off a child would not be very PG-13 of us, would it, and so what happened was this: the little boy broke the Killing Curse as it slammed against him, turned it into endless fragments of green light, tendrils of black magic that floated up into the ceiling like dancing fingers, fading into nothing. Some of it slipped inside of him through his weeping little baby mouth, through his wide green eyes, through the jagged crack the impact put on his forehead, but most of it – gone.

And yes, the boy was nestled in a cocoon of protective magic strengthened by his parents’ sacrifice, but he was an actual baby, and a powerful curse slamming against him was certainly enough to knock him out, even if he did have a bit of a magical force field. He passed out. He did not die.

The man who called himself Lord Voldemort – perhaps not much of a man after all – did not die that day, either, in any way, shape or form. There was no rebound to the spell. From his side of the wand, it appeared as if it had hit the boy and done what it was due.

He peered into the crib that held the unconscious baby and, being a Dark Lord and therefore not knowing the first thing about babies, assumed his work there was done. Satisfied, he turned on his heel and stormed down the stairs, ready to continue his pursuit of power, now unstoppable. That’s what he thought.

But the boy had not died, as we’ve established. What happened to him was this: a devastated young man in a flying motorcycle found him and, you know, like a regular person, thought to shake him around a bit before assuming he was dead. And the baby knew him, so he sighed with relief upon waking, lay against the man’s chest and fell back asleep clutching his battered jacket in his tiny fists.

When Hagrid came for the boy, Sirius insisted on accompanying him, and together they met Albus Dumbledore in Surrey. Yes, unfortunately that still happened.

We know how this story could have gone. But it is not how it went.

What happened was this: young Sirius Black now had an alibi. Even though the baby was still left in a terrible home with his terrible aunt and uncle, his godfather, a free man, visited him in the form of a dog – against Dumbledore’s orders, but, in young Sirius’ words, he did not give a shit – and taught him about magic all through his childhood. Harry Potter was a happy boy. He knew his stay in Privet Drive was momentary, he knew as soon as that man “Dumbledore” allowed it, his godfather would take him.

A few things changed, of course. This is not the story we knew. Let us try to break it to you… gently.

1. Harry James Potter received the “you’re a wizard” talk at 4 years old, as soon as Sirius thought he’d be old enough to understand it.

2. Sirius Black told him all about his parents as well. Showed him pictures and books and sometimes cried while he cradled Harry to sleep.

3. Sirius Black, unbeknownst to Harry, once slipped into the Dursley’s bedroom at night, let them think he was a demon, and threatened to unleash hell’s wrath upon them if they weren’t nice to their nephew. It worked.

4. Lord Voldemort didn’t die that Halloween night.

5. Lord Voldemort continued his campaign for power and immortality.

6. Lord Voldemort gained terrain over the Ministry, terrorized and devastated magical villages, established governors in each of them – Death Eaters, all of them.

7. Lord Voldemort directed a series of attacks against ministry facilities.

8. On Christmas Eve, 1986, the Ministry fell. Millicent Bagnold was killed in her office, and Pius Thicknesse was appointed Minister in her place.

9. Lord Voldemort gained full control of magical Britain.

10. Albus Dumbledore visited when Harry turned 7 and told him the story of Tom Riddle, the man, and Voldemort, the monster. Harry was 7, and Dumbledore let him know he was a soldier. He let him know he was the most powerful wizard of all time, probably. He let him know he was their only hope. Harry was 7.

Everything was different.

Harry was whisked away from Privet Drive and taken to Grimmauld Place. He was 7, and his transformation into a warrior, a bringer of hope, began.

Harry Potter is, at 20 years old, a first priority criminal, wanted by a corrupt government for treason and criminal disloyalty.

The tips of his fingers hold more power than many wizarding folk see in their entire lives, charged with years of training, charged with light and dark magic, balanced inside of him like night and day. And what he does is this: he walks. There’s a member of the Resistance next to him, always, a different one each day as he walks through the country, feet calloused, refusing to apparate anywhere before he sees it all. He walks, passes villages in his search for horcruxes, and bestows small miracles upon those who need him.

He comes and goes, more legend than man. In places where governors reign wielding terror as their weapon, the people await him. His name is whispered in taverns, held close like a secret, like something precious, and when he appears, white hooded cloak shadowing his face, it’s as if rain poured after centuries of drought. He smells of dirt before a storm, of fresh grass, and every house welcomes him in secret in the middle of the night.

His hands brush over burning foreheads, over broken arms, through strands of hair, and his touch is curative. His words slide smooth like a balm over wounded souls, his message — we will win this, I will win this, worry not, fear not, for I will end this — the love everyone feels for him, deep in their hearts. He’s a stranger, but he’s not. In places where fear has become a living, breathing thing, villages where everyone cowers before their leaders, people bow down for their warrior, kiss his calloused hands, his scarred forehead, and what little they have they give him so he can continue his trip.

At night, after he has left, the air smells different, smells like him, like rain and lightning, and his message of love is whispered into the night with the certainty that he will free them, he will free them.

Harry Potter, the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. The boy who lived, the man destined to become a savior.

At night, people come together in secret and say, “long live Harry Potter, savior of all.”

He’s just a boy, too.

He flies over Dorset, broom held tight between his legs as he makes his way to the Resistance’s refuge in East Devon. The hands that cured a man of blindness earlier, now push through a wooden door and find their way around the back of his godfather, who was up waiting for him. Desperate times, but that man always has a smile for Harry.

“News of civilization?” He asks then, holding him tight, letting him know it’s okay to share the burden of his responsibilities if only for a minute.

“Yes. A man knows of a man who bought the cup. We need to move to Wiltshire.”

That’s how he lives. Just a boy who happens to be a savior, who lives nowhere and everywhere, who knows his duty, who has trained his whole life to achieve it.

And Sirius goes with him. “We’ll hit the road tomorrow.”

When Harry Potter knocks on his door, Draco almost sicks up on the spot.

Piercing green eyes stare at him, ready for a fight. But Draco is smart. He knows Harry Potter has come looking for something. Draco reads the paper, talks to his father daily about the information they have on Potter at the Ministry. He wouldn’t come, unless he was looking for something.

Draco should kill him, should end this, win the Dark Lord’s favor.

But he dreamt of a forest, and of knowing this man who carries the wild in his eyes.

He lets him in.

Malfoy Manor is full of secrets. Harry coaxes them out of hiding, cradles them near his chest and learns about darkness by stumbling into it in every corner.

The cup calls for him from the heart of the house, and he finds it on the second day of his stay, unearths it from a coffin in the depths of the dungeons. He destroys it on the spot, unspools the layers of iron with the magic contained beneath his fingernails, and destroys it.

When he turns, Draco Malfoy is in the corner. The child of a Death Eater.

But Harry has been in many places, seen enough repentance to recognize it in downcast grey eyes. He lowers his cloak and walks to the child of a Death Eater, holds his head between his hands.

“You can tell me.”

“There’s more where that cup came from,” Draco mutters, as if Harry had forced it out of him. He could have, but he didn’t.

“Will you show me?” And he can tell this man whose beautiful face he holds between his fingertips knows little of gentleness, knows it because he sees him flinch at Harry’s uncomplicated love and soft words.

“I should turn you in.”

“Will you show me?”

Draco shows him.

He learns more from Harry Potter the first two weeks they spend together than he did in 7 years at Hogwarts.

In the mornings, he steps out the door to find Harry kneeling by the flower beds, and when he turns to Draco his smile is wide and gentle, “Look at this,” he says, and with a touch to their petals, he makes the buds shake off their stupor and bloom, nurses them back to health. “Every living thing is ready to thrive, if you ask nicely.”

In the evenings, when they share a meal by the fire, he can’t stop himself from thinking about his father. About the fact that he’s betraying him. And Harry knows, because he always knows. In the short time they’ve spent together, he’s always seemed to know.

“Once you’ve passed your own limit, punishing yourself for love, you will start hating yourself, Draco,” he tells him as if he could read his mind, and then reaches for his hands and plays with his fingers, traces an outline of vines and flowers along Draco’s arms with magic, with locks of pure, blue light. “And if you think you know what’s right, that’s what you should do.”

And it’s nothing Draco doesn’t know. He knows what’s right, knows the magic of Harry’s hands, knows his heaving chest after an evening looking through the libraries for clues of where he needs to go next, he knows his profile, has been staring at it for days, he knows what he feels after Harry kisses his hands and tells him he can join them if he wants, they have room for him, he has room for him.

He knows what’s right. Harry’s message of love, of life is what’s right. And he would walk through fire if Harry asked, but right now, he’s simply asking him to thrive, if he’s ready.

He’s ready.

“The locket is in Inverness,” Harry says. He can see Draco flinch, and he knows the reason. “We have a fortress there. Will you come with me?”

He knows the reason.

This is what it’s like, walking with him: there’s magic where Draco never thought to look before. In the eyes of a child, who feels hope for the first time, in the lips of a mother that kisses Harry’s hands and Draco’s forehead. There’s magic in Harry’s feet as they touch the ground and make flowers bloom around him, as he brings life to everything around him, offers tenderness and words of love in places where authoritarian brutality is the norm.

It’s this: walking into prisons at night and melting out the iron keeping innocents locked in. It’s colors seeping into grey, it’s Harry reaching into a tree and it producing a perfect, ripe apple to gift to him, it’s Harry pressing it to Draco’s lips with a smile and saying, “here, you’ve earned it.” It’s Draco biting into it and being certain of the fact that he loves this man, tasting it in the sweet, sweet juice after breaking the skin of the fruit.

He knows, now, that Harry is the legend he has always heard about. He’s infinite, raw power poured into the purest vessel it could find, he’s gentleness to his core, he’s magnetic and good. He makes it impossible not to love him.

And he knows, now, that Harry is also the boy everyone forgot used to hide underneath that cloak. That for all the life he brings everywhere he walks, there’s a solemnity he carries in his chest, the burden of hope heavy between his shoulder blades, crushing him even if he does not know.

Sirius comes and goes, joins them on their trip and disappears on recon missions, over and over. Once, when they’re alone, Draco tells him about it, says “he’s just a boy” and Sirius sighs because he knows what it’s like to love him, to love this boy who is both young and ancient, like Draco does, and can’t even assure him, because there’s many ways this could end, and only one of them, the least likely of them, lets them keep him.

So he gives Draco a stone.

It takes them a year. Harry makes his way through England and Scotland, brings hope and freedom to the people as he searches for the items he needs to destroy the Dark Lord.

Draco guides him into Hogwarts, hand in hand, the moment they know where to find the last one. As Harry destroys it, he sees Draco cry.

He hasn’t told him what Harry has always known, that the way this ends for him is in sacrifice, but he thinks Draco must suspect. So he holds him in his arms and smooths his hands through his hair and over his eyelids. “It’s almost over, my beloved. Now let him come to me.”

He makes himself sound more confident than he feels. For the first time, as he holds Draco close, he doubts his own faith, for entirely selfish reasons.

But he remembers his lessons, and he remembers Dumbledore, and the Order, and reminds himself that this is what he was born for.

“Let him come to me.”

Draco knows what Harry is going to do, and sees him try to hide it. He sees him fight, sees him help every single witch and wizard to cross paths with him, the way he always does.

And when they part ways in the midst of the battle later that night, when Draco sees his mother, he feels something shatter inside of him and knows it’s happening. So he runs.

“The boy who lived, come to die.”

“You think this ends with me, Tom, but it doesn’t. The people’s pain is more powerful than their fear, and they won’t be silent. Do not think they’ll be silent. From the other side, I will see them bring you down.”

And then a curse, finally doing what it was due all those years before.

He stands in the forest, a stone held tight between his fingers. He can hear his parents’ cries for him in the distance, running towards him, echoes of bombardas that should have stopped hours before. He stares at the ghostly figure of Harry Potter.

“Why?”

“This was the only way he would die. I know you don’t understand, Draco, but this was the only way.”

“But he’s not dead, he went back to the castle, he’s making everyone pick sides. Harry, it’s over, it’s over.”

Harry stands in Kings Cross.

He’s given a choice, and he thinks of the burden, thinks of what his life might look like now, what will be expected of him next.

He thinks of the boy with the grey eyes.

He makes his choice.

In the morning light, a hero is reborn. Draco tosses him a wand and runs to fight next to him. Where he always belonged.

Afterwards, when the withering body of a man who was a monster hits the ground, they walk into the Hall, hand in hand, covered in dust from head to toe. Harry touches every bloodstained forehead, every dead body, presses his forehead to them and whispers words in the ancient language of the magic that runs through his veins, through underground streams and every living, breathing thing.

Everywhere in the Hall, eyes begin to open, and look into a new world.

“The change is only starting,” Draco tells him, as they stand with their foreheads pressed together outside the castle.

“It has started, my beloved.”

He doesn’t say he loves him, but Draco has known from the beginning, hears the words in the spaces between, slowly, dripping from every pore of Harry’s skin.

“We should go away for a while, just… while the dust settles.” Harry doesn’t protest, but Draco sees it in his eyes, and so, he interrupts his thoughts with a soft press of cracked lips, rough to touch, tender to heart. When he pulls away, Harry’s smile is nearly blinding. “You deserve it, for once. Besides, I know of a place in Wiltshire where the flowers sing your name.”

“And you?”

“And I sing it, too. I sing it, my love.”

#drarry #drarry fic #draco malfoy #harry potter #mine #prompt #ilyprompts #mywriting

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hockeyboysiguess · 4 years ago

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Hi 👋 Can you write 69 with whoever you want?? Btw i love your writing. have a good day/night 😊💕

69) “You’re teasing me again…”

a/n: thank you :) hope you like my take on this! also, hope you like jonathan toews! and who doesn’t love Christmas in August? writing from this list.

word count: 1.2K

You took in a deep breath, filling your lungs, before blowing out, watching the dust fly off the large red and green container in front of you. You slid the lid off it and smiled when you saw all of the multi-colored ornaments packed in the box, nestled among bubble wrap and old tissue paper to keep them safe from Jon’s rough handling he did to get them out of storage.

“You know,” Jon dropped another container next to the one you had opened, “I think, and this is just a suggestion, that we might have too many Christmas decorations.”

“Jonathan Toews, if you’d like to still be engaged to me by the end of today, you will apologize for,” you grabbed a golden round ornament from the top of the box, “and rescind that statement.”

You looked up to see Jon’s expression, one of fake pondering, as he pretended to mentally toss your statement around his mind with the left and right cocking of his head. You rolled your eyes at him and gave him a little shove in the chest on your way over to the tree. You looked over the still only lit tree, bare of any ornaments, and tried to find for the perfect spot for the one in your hand. The first ornament placement would set the course for the entire tree, so the task had to be taken seriously. You heard Jon shuffle around behind you before you heard the scratch and static of the record player before the familiar dulcet tones of Bing Crosby’s Christmas album began floating through your shared apartment.

“So,” Jon came up next to you, a lazy smile on his face as he picked the ornament from your hand, “you get an apology, which is that I’m sorry for suggesting we have too many Christmas decorations. I am also formally rescinding my comment and striking it from the record. I have also provided a peace offering in the form of Christmas music. Going to keep that ring on your finger or do I need to grovel some more?”

“If you put that ornament, right on that,” you pointed to a branch just out of your reach, “branch, then all will be forgiven.”

Jon laughed and dropped a kiss to your forehead before reaching up and placing the ornament on the exact branch you had pointed to, checking with you that he had the right one before dropping it into place. You headed back to grab a small box of wooden sleigh ornaments for Jon, a responsibility he could probably handle accurately enough, and a few breakable, precious ones for yourself. You handed him the box and he nodded.

“Okay, I see how it is,” he nodded. “Don’t trust your future husband with the nice ornaments, eh?”

“I’m just picky about the Christmas tree, Jon,” you sighed, waving him off with your hand carrying a glass icicle for the tree. “You know how I get. Now, you going to do your assigned job with proper ornament spacing or not?”

“You got a ruler for me?”

You rolled your eyes at him again and he laughed again, a regular routine for the two of you, as was your smile that resulted from his laugh and the kiss he dropped to your forehead before going to do what you asked of him. Jon was a great partner, better than you had ever imagined you would find. When he had asked you to marry him a few months ago, saying yes was the easiest thing you had ever done. The idea of marrying someone before Jon was terrifying in a way that reminded you of picking the college you went to or of the day you started your first real job or even of learning to ride your bike when you were seven. It wasn’t a fear of the unknown really, more a fear that you would be a terrible at whatever lay past your current point of experience. You were terrified you would be a terrible wife. That is, until Jon. He was your partner, lock step with you in everything, always by your side. He was your support and you were his. He had your back in a way that you had never experienced before and you were the woman he wanted to marry, so you knew you could do it because Jon believed you could.

With the tree half decorated twenty minutes later, you flipped the record and grabbed the two boxes of wooden nutcracker ornaments to take one yourself and give the other to Jon when he returned from the kitchen on your mission to finish the tree before lunch. Much to your delight, he returned with two cups of peppermint tea, a staple for you around the holidays. Jon smiled when he saw how your eyes lit up as the mug in his hand.

“Figured my little Christmas elf could use some fuel,” he said as he handed you a mug, taking one of the boxes from you in the exchange.

“You know me well, Toews,” you laughed before taking a sip.

You grabbed a coster and set your tea down, grabbing one to slide under Jon’s cup since he always forget, before returning to the tree decorating task at hand. You looked over at Jon, watching him carefully consider the placement of his second nutcracker relative to the first, his dark eyes flitting between the first one he placed and a few open spots on the tree, trying to pick the best one. He didn’t fully understand your vision or your intensity, but he could appreciate the balance you tried to create and that you had both a vision and the intensity to see it through to the end, so he supported you as best he could in your decorating ventures. Your mind drifted as you realized you would get to see this every year with him for the rest of your life, Jon helping you decorate your apartment, and getting to spend every holiday season with him. In a few years, the holidays and the decorating might look a little different though.

“What are you thinking about?”

Jon’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you waved him off, placing another nutcracker on the tree.

“No, no,” he laughed a little. “I saw that look on your face, the happy thinking look. Means you have a good thought. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Just thinking about how I get to do this with you every year,” you said, sliding a nutcracker onto a nearby tree branch. “Also how this is going to be even more fun with a few kids helping out in a few years.”

Jon let out a long, drawn out sigh before he barked out a quick laugh, shaking his head softly at you.

“You’re teasing me again, hun,” Jon told you, his voice light and bright, but you knew behind that was the fact that Jon desperately wanted kids. He wanted them as soon as you would have them. “Now I’m thinking about it.”

“Yeah?” you asked him, your smile evident in your voice. “Two littles ones, running around, helping us with the decorations?”

“Not sure how much helping they’re going to be capable of if they’re anything like me when I was a kid.” Jon laughed the words out of his mouth. “But, I can run interference for you if that’s what it takes to get the decorating done.”

“Thanks for volunteering your services, Jon.”

“You just let me know when you want to get started on making that thought a reality,” Jon threw back at you. “Ready whenever you are, baby.”

#jonathan toews #jonathan toews imagine #jonathan toews writing #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl imagine #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey writing #hockey imagine #blurb time

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beautifulterriblequeen · 4 years ago

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Impressions from TTM

Spoilers, spoilers everywhere. Just a big bulleted list of thoughts as I read through the graphic novel. Not a lot of detail included, so it’ll make a lot more sense if you’ve already read it yourself!

looks like Moonshadow elves cross the arms of the dead... when they have a body to bury

it’s nice to see that Rayla imagines Runaan with all his shirts, the way she last saw him

kinda looks like Rayla changed into her jammies right on her bed and dumped her clothes on that little table. maybe she’s afraid of letting the few things she actually possesses out of her sight

listen we get one little panel of Opeli in here and it’s great

Soren’s cape smacking Callum in the face, 10/10

Lujanne’s appearance out of nowhere, along with Allen’s is just adorable, she’s so sparkly. And also she can apparently just turn totally invisible with an illusion spell? Even at a new moon? Probably because of the Nexus I guess

Lujanne’s “Big strong man with big strong feelings.” She and Runaan have exactly the same type and I support them

Allen’s face when Lujanne says it aches to miss Phoe-Phoe

Callum eating off Rayla’s plate and wondering how Lujanne suspected they were a couple, hmmm

Soren and Allen bonding

Rayla warning Lujanne about hand disguises, as if that was something Runaan made very sure she knew

Rayla’s cute chaos grin when Callum’s Aspiro spell goes off is my favorite pic of her in this whole graphic novel

Lujanne’s “Oh.” afterward is my fave pic of her, too, she does not seem to handle reality well!

Bait’s tongue will never get old

Lujanne’s whole speech during Phoe-Phoe’s rebirth ritual is so touching and beautiful, my heart

Lujanne putting the newborn Moon Phoenix into Ezran’s hands, like she knows he’ll have the best connection with her

Callum’s tears as he reminds Rayla that Runaan killed Harrow, he’s trying to move on, but it hurts

Rayla’s self-soothing behavior when she has her second nightmare in the book--she must have these most every night :((((

the big symbol on the Moon Temple doors looks like a stylized Moon staff, like it’s a building for mages

Lujanne saying Rayla might not want or need the truth right after Callum mentions Runaan’s name to her, he sassily asks about her husbands and she turns it into a compliment

Callum’s big reaction to the moon opals is adorable. The only other one he’s seen was part of a pair of treasured gifts between long-time spouses, so it kinda looks like he’s all “uhh we just started dating”

also Ethari must’ve made cute metal swirly covers for the pair he and Runaan wore, since these two are undecorated--maybe he got his from Lujanne?

listen Lujanne is a hoot and all but she’s both an ally and an antagonist. Her actions are trustworthy but her advice is generally terrible. It’s an interesting parallel to how Runaan says a lot with his actions too, but he talks a lot less than Lujanne

Rayla yeeting herself into a fight just to ask Soren for a talk is 10/10 Moonshadow assassin goals

but her hood is up when she’s lurking in the trees--she might not have known where she’d find Soren and was anticipating something less fun on the feels-o-meter

Rayla in the mud again. Soren keeps making people fall in the mud

Allen’s grumpy squiggle

Callum, I love you, but you have no respect for moon opals. It’s like they wronged you in a previous life or something

that dancing elf has very long hair and shoulder pauldrons, and they start off dancing with six kneeling, watching, hooded elves around them--Moon Druids wore hoods even before they were assassins. Considering what Lujanne said about why the portal was sometimes opened, maybe those six kneeling elves are waiting under their emotion-hiding hoods to farewell a loved one who’s recently died?

can’t tell for sure but maybe the elf is dancing along the lines in the stone like they mark patterns for ritual dances, which would be the bomb

Soren and Rayla’s conversation is pretty wrenching. Seeing Soren have to struggle with what he did because it’s tangled up with Viren is rough because as a Crownguard it should just have been his duty to defend his king and he’d have nothing to feel weird about

Rayla dissociating herself from the term “assassins” and Soren dissociating from calling Viren “my father” in the same conversation is 10/10 excellent growth

Soren must know what happens to prisoners his dad gets a hold of, even if he doesn’t know the details :(((

“we captured him” and “Viren took him” seem to be talking about the Crownguard and Viren, not the brodigies and Viren

Rayla having a wooden sword at the end of the day bc she played swordfighting with Allen and Soren all day long

the panel where Rayla doesn’t say anything at all after telling Callum that she asked Soren about Runaan actually says so much, you can hear it

every time Lujanne’s white lies idea gets repeated, things get worse

Allen’s reading glasses, there must be one optician in the human village and he caters to soft kindly gentlemen of a certain age

in the moon phase montage, baby Phoe-Phoe is flying next to Ezran after one week at the Nexus. Maybe he’s paying her back by helping her learn to fly after she helped him teach Zym how to fly! Did they bond as tightly as Ezran did with Zym? I support Ezran just bonding with the most powerful flying creatures in all the land.

the irony of Callum using Lujanne’s tactics against her is amazing, but really the white lies thing is a giant ball of chaos in this story and it does not play favorites

Bait on the stone pillar during rebuilding

all the noises the Moonhenge makes are 10/10

Rayla dancing with Callum even though there’s almost no chance she’s ever done that dance before

Lujanne’s pupils going white, that is a cool effect, what’s it mean?

the black moon in the pink sky is so spooky! Is it just me or does the color scheme here kinda vibe like the space outside Aaravos’s library?

the smoky assassin squad, 10/10 creep factor, I love it

the lightning being a literal crack of doom with “CRAK-DOOM” as Katolis Castle appears, “echoes of thunder” indeed, very nice

Lujanne being mad but she can’t decide if it’s at Callum or herself

when she says pulling Rayla out now will leave her soul on one side and her body a husk. After the Insta live stream last night where we learned that soulfang serpents are Moon primal creatures, that’s... super interesting

smoky assassins go tssh in the rain like they’re still hot from being cremated, thanks I hate it

Andromeda finds Rayla first and seems closest/most aggressive so I wonder why she might hate Rayla more than the others

the assassins’ wrist bindings have gone red but they’re still attached and seem to trap the souls where they are. But all they need to be free is to perceive that Rayla completed their task, even though we know otherwise. So... would that work for killing any target? If you’re certain that you did it, does your binding fall off even if you’re wrong? eyes Pip

this must not be the actual afterlife since the spirits kind of mist up toward the moon and vanish, it’s more like a lobby, no one stays here unless they get stuck

portaling around just by shouting at villains, excellent

Rayla literally dropping a sword at the sight of the pod Viren’s in, yeah, it’s that creepy, I agree

Viren’s eyes are so black I think they’re Aaravos’s. I got a whole headcanon on Good Viren and Evil Viren for S4 now, wow

Phoe-Phoe pulling out a feather for Callum, awww my heart! This is why Ezran had to come, to bond with her so together they could save Callum and Rayla, it’s so sweet

so these humans are from the Storm Spire battle, bc that’s the Storm Spire behind Rayla and Callum on p108, with the rune-written arch. Did they die hating Rayla and Callum from the battle? Did they even know Rayla was up there? Or is pod Viren/Aaravos actually making them attack out of hatred for Viren’s death? One of these is definitely creepier and more awesome

Rayla’s confidence that Callum can and will boost her at the right moment with his magic, my heart, I love battle couples

that one panel that mirrors the Ghost Feather key art, hhhhhh

Rayla being the better swimmer, such precious irony, thanks Runaan

them holding hands and swimming upward together on the full-page panel is blessed

Lujanne pulling Rayla out of the lake with both arms gives me feels bc my grandma saved my life once

Lujanne being super soft over Rayllum, she is indeed a hopeless romantic

Rayla says “gone” about her parents and Runaan, and that’s the word Ethari used too, and I’m suddenly wondering if Ethari reached right into that pool and has always known that the lotus is half-submerged and if the sword he’s been making is for himself

I’m so glad Rayla told Callum what she saw of Viren

Rayla deceiving Callum and heading into danger alone because his life is more valuable to her than her own is exactly what Runaan did for her the night of the full moon in Katolis. I’m leaning toward her having thought this over and doing it on purpose bc she believes it’s a sign of deepest love--that Runaan’s actions and Lujanne’s words match up in her head, so she thinks it’s the right thing to do bc the mage and the assassin agree. Alas, Callum doesn’t understand the Moon arcanum yet, so he will have a different opinion. That mage and that assassin do not agree!

Rayla’s cloak has that Moon Temple symbol on its back. Is it Lujanne’s cloak? Any Moonshadow who sees it will probably know where she got it and who helped her. That could be fun!

#through the moon #through the moon spoilers #rayla #callum #rayllum #tdp allen #lujanne #ezran

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mlepclaynos99 · 4 years ago

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Holiday Cards (Christmas Eve)

The second last chapter to the 12 Days of Peraltiago I’ve been writing!

Summary: Amy looks over the family holiday card on Christmas Eve!

The smell of cookies wafted through the apartment that was brightly lit up by the decorations. Jake and Mac were busy singing “Jingle Bells” extremely off key and taking over the actual music that was playing in the kitchen. Wearing the blue snowflake pajamas that matched theirs, Amy adjusted the stockings that hung by the fireplace while glancing over at the father and son. They had strangely offered to clean up the kitchen after yet another attempt to bake cookies for Santa and she knew from the giggles from the open area, the two were up to another one of their mischievous antics. Smiling as she remembered last year when her toddler was covered in powdered sugar and she was presented a plate covered in more icing & sprinkles than the cookies on them. After cleaning Mac, she had spent last Christmas Eve shaking the sprinkles out of Jake’s curls and tonight, she made sure anything resembling sprinkles was hidden in her pantry.

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Walking by their Christmas tree, her lips curved upwards in tranquility, as she ran her hand over the colorful ornaments. As the years had gone by, she had let go of having their Christmas tree be covered in one colored ornament, enjoying how the three of them would put together a tree full of different colours. She couldn’t decide whether she enjoyed putting up a crossword ornament with their names on the tree or watching Jake and Mac carefully deciding where their favourite 4 turtles should be placed. She sat down on their couch, realizing watching Mac sitting on Jake’s shoulders as he tried to put up the star on the top of the tree was the best part of decorating their place.

However, her smile slowly washed away as she sighed picking up the empty frame and their holiday card that had reached their all family and friends earlier in the day. This year they had chosen to take a picture for the card outside in the snow instead of another picture of them at home in their pajamas like they had been sending out for the last two years. She had sent a generous gift to her photographer friend who had managed to capture the three of them laughing as Jake and Amy had each taken one of Mac’s mitten clad hands, and lifted him into a swing off the ground. However, the more she looked at the photo, the more she kept noticing her own appearance in it. While loving how adorable her baby looked in his puffy winter jacket that seemed bigger than he was and a beanie that made his chubby face cuter than normal with Jake who smile stole the picture, she found herself worried about the whether she had made the right choice to wear that winter coat and whether she shouldn’t have worn a turtleneck under that coat. The clothes reflecting how her appearance was slowly changing had her worried it would let their little secret.

“Amy, you gotta try these! They’re amazing!”

She looked up from the card and frame to find Jake and Mac bringing a plate full of cookies to her. Setting down his smaller plate by the tree, Mac rushed over to Jake ready for more sugar. Refusing the cookie Jake offered her (before he shrugged and ate it himself), she had a harder time saying no to Mac as he kept holding up the cookie ha decorated just for his mom.

“Chwistmas cookie!” He pouted to her, his big puppy eyes resembling Jake when Mac had said he wanted to watch Elf instead of Die Hard last night. Looking over at Jake for help, she was met with the same look on his face and she had no choice but to open up her palm for his cookie. Planting a kiss on Mac’s cheek, she felt his tiny sticky hands grabbing her face and leaving icing on her cheek as he reciprocated her gesture before running off to his toys powered by the sugar rush.

“I saw the cookie package in the garbage, these are store bought.” Amy pointed out as she took a bite off the top of the tree shaped cookie before handing the rest to Jake, who looked like a deer caught in headlights. He thought he had been sneaky enough last year and today to replace their homemade cookies with the store bought ones, but he should have known better than to get anything past his wife.

“I never said fresh, I said they’re amazing. And we decorated them.” He quickly and nervously mumbled while shifting on the couch, worried about hurting her feelings while she laughed, having accepted the Peralta-Santiagos should probably never open up a bakery.

“It’s fine, I only like the idea of baking you with two, not eating those cookies. I had a package in the cupboard as well. You just beat me to it.”

Watching him breathe a sigh of relief, she thought she had lost his attention when he picked up the TV remote and looked back down at the holiday card. Amy should have known she would never lose his attention since he had put down his plate of cookies seeing her expression change when she had looked down and inched closer to her to wrap an arm around her. She lifted up the card in front of him and pointed towards herself in it.

“Look at this.” She frowned at him, and he wanted to the lower lip she stuck out in a way he would always find cute. But curious to know what she saw in their family picture, he took it with his free hand and held it up higher and only saw the way Amy looked at Mac making him almost wish he could frame those two in their own photo.

“It’s a masterpiece.” He shrugged and handed it back to her only for point at herself again and he knew she was overthinking how her choice of clothes again.

“But-”

“It’s you, me, and Mac. It’s perfect.” She closed her mouth, letting his sentence dangle as she took another look at their photo.

It was beautiful; a reflection of the perfect day they had. The snow was falling lightly that day. The corner of the park was empty around them. They had been laughing all day in the snow, building snowmen, sipping hot chocolate on their way home, and cuddling under one blanket by the fireplace as they watched a movie. It was perfect day and their photo was a reflection of that. She looked back at Jake and saw him looking at the card, the love he had for her and their son was so evident in that picture & in the way he looked at that picture. Placing her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes holding back her emotions that were going to come down as tears if she didn’t. She had been worried about various people’s thoughts on their card, but as she sat next to Jake who had his hand gently grazing over her stomach and listening to the sounds of their son playing, it didn’t matter.

“You’re such a sap.” She mumbled against his shoulder and he kissed the top of her head with a chuckle, knowing she wasn’t wrong. He was especially sappier around the holidays, contrary to the Jake she knew years ago, and it wasn’t going to ever change.

“I was just worried, I just know my mom is going to call and make some comment on how different I look...”

She started talking and pointed to her face and stomach while he sat up on the couch realizing she wasn’t worried about not hiding her changing body, but rather what her mother would think of her. Jake clenched his jaw for a moment, trying not get upset at how Camilla managed to affect Amy after all these years and why his mother-in-law felt the need to still make scrutinizing remarks about her brilliant, beautiful, badass daughter.

“Okay, first off it would ridiculous for her to do that. Second, if she does say anything, you hand me the phone immediately. Third…Mac will make my third point.”

Amy opened her mouth to stop him, wanting to tell him that it didn’t matter to her but stopped when he called over to their child, letting him go on and wanting to see what he was about to do. Mac immediately left his toys, running into Jake’s arms and quickly finding his spot on his dad’s lap.

“Mac-a-roni, who is the prettiest person in the whole wide world?” Jake asked tickling the toddler and Mac leapt onto Amy’s lap who put aside the items on her lap, quickly made space for him.

“Momma!” Mac wrapped his arms around Amy’s neck and she hugged him back, so glad she had let Jake talk. Inhaling the smell of cookies and candy canes that came from her son, she closed her eyes when she felt Jake’s hand on her. Her crazy boys thought she was everything, and it meant she needed nothing from anyone else. Parting back from their hug, letting Mac snuggle into her, she ran her hands through his curly hair while looking up in an attempt to stop her tears.

“Come on, Mac wouldn’t lie.” Jake, thinking she was rolling her eyes, nudged her soft before pulling Mac’s chubby cheeks that he never got enough of.

Now Amy genuinely rolled her eyes as she uses the back of her finger to wipe off chocolate from the corner of Mac’s mouth.

“He just lied about eating the chocolate chips.” She pointed out to Jake who looked offended but not as much as their son who got off her lap and stood up on the sofa. Taking her face into his tiny palms, Mac looked dead serious as he tried to defend himself, making it hard for Jake not to laugh watching how precious their baby was.

“No not lie Momma.” With widened eyes, Mac looked on eagerly waiting for Amy to say something only her for to scrunch her nose as she continued to wipe more chocolate off his face.

“Who ate the chocolate chips then?”

“Dadda!” Mac’s finger pointed at Jake whose soft laughter had turned into shock as he realized how mischievous Mac was becoming and put his hands up.

“Woah woah woah, I did no such thing.” Jake stood up, lifting Mac off the couch as they ran off to kitchen to get rid of any evidence of chocolate chip theft from either of them, although she knew they were both guilty of emptying half a package of the tiny, sweet nibs.

As they were getting cleaned up, Amy picked up their holiday card and finally put it into the frame. Knowing exactly where it belonged, she placed it on the shelf by their TV, right next to the last two holiday cards they had sent out. She realized how quickly their son was growing up every time she looked at progression of their holiday pictures, wishing she could slow the time and be with him more, as if she would ever come to a point of having enough time with Jake and Mac. She made sure each frame was perfectly aligned, taking a moment to look at them and remembering the days behind the photos.

The first year they sent out a holiday card was an impromptu decision when they had received the Jeffords’ card. Starting their own card, she remembered how they had spent hours dressed Mac, a few months old back then, in a Santa hat, moving him all over their home and filling up their camera rolls with pictures of him they would share for the entire year. It had taken them even longer to settle on a picture of Mac in a gift box as their holiday message to everyone, secretly reminding themselves, they had the cutest baby ever.

Last year, they had a harder time to get a picture since Mac had just learned about how to walk quickly without fear a few weeks earlier, and was looking for any reason to show off his new skills. They had struggled for the entire day to calm their energetic child, but the only time they could keep him still enough for a picture was when it was dark and time for bed. Amy had quickly set up a camera and Jake had put up some decorative lights in their bedroom as Mac finished up his bottle, putting him in a sleepy state. Managing to have him sit up against them as they took a picture in matching pajamas, they didn’t have to spend time deciding which picture to use, since Mac had fall asleep on their bed after the first two.

As she looked at the recent picture, she felt his arms snaking around her, hands stopping over her stomach and his head resting against her. Admiring their pictures and already excited for the one they would add next year, he whispered into her ear.

“You’re so beautiful Ames.”

She felt her heart warming up more than it already was, and leaning into his touch she smiled looking at all their pictures, also knowing the next one would be incredibly special. Turned her head, she placed her lips against his cheek, letting them linger until she felt Mac’s little hand tapping against her leg. Catching their attention, the toddler looked at the ground shyly before Jake kneeled down and asked him to speak up.

“Open pwesents now?” He looked towards Amy’s directions and she gave in to the soft puppy eyes yet again, to retain her title as the prettiest person in the world.

“Just one.” Jake ruffled Mac’s hair before he ran towards the pile of presents under the tree, trying to find one that his name on it.

“Do you want a present right now too?” Amy looked at Jake with raised brows in an attempt to see him following Mac’s actions only for him to shake his head and his arm around her.

“I am just waiting for this one.” His hand carefully touched her stomach, caressing it gently with his thumb and she didn’t stop herself from leaning in to kiss him before they had to supervise Mac opening up his first Christmas gift.

The following year, Amy placed another framed holiday card on the shelf as chaos of baking cookies was taking place once again, but the music and Jake & Mac’s laughter quieter because of the baby slowly dozing off in her arms. Aligning the frame, she admired the photo of her and Jake sitting in front of the fireplace, Mac in her lap, and all of them looking at the new prettiest girl in the world, fast asleep in Jake’s arms.

#brooklyn nine nine #b99 #peraltiago #jake peralta #mac peralta #amy santiago #christmas fluff

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smokeybrand · 4 years ago

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Rise of the Skywalker

This sh*t with Lucasfilm is wild to witness. I’m not really one to buy into entertainment gossip but i am emotionally invested in Star Wars. I’m an Eighties kid, man. Star Wars helped to shape our childhood growing up. Vader is one of my all-time favorite antagonists. Ahsoka has grown to rival him in my heart as a beloved character. As a cat who creates, myself, i can’t help but adore the passion and creativity i n the entire world lore around the Skywalker legend. I mean, look at everything built around those first three films. Just taking Legends into account, you have the absolutely excellent Shadows of the Empire and the Thrawn trilogy. More than that, and probably one of the best game franchises ever realized, you have The Knight of the Old Republic. F*ck, dude, Revan? Nihilus? Bastila? Kreia? HK-47? This is Bioware at it’s finest, save Mass Effect 2. And then Disney cam in and f*cked it all up.

Kathleen Kennedy has been a poison to the franchise, and not because of her identity politics. Look, you can work in your ideals and messages without being so goddamn heavy-handed with it but this chick, and her “writer’s group.” can’t craft a story to save their lives. That’s the problem here. Not Rey or Finn or Poe. Not Holdo or Rose Tico. Not even Snoke. It’s how these characters were presented, it’s how the writing shaped them. I’ve written at length about how Rey was a missed opportunity and, according to the original leaked treatment, that misstep was more like an outright face-plant The Rey that was to grow throughout the Sequel trilogy, culminating in a battle between a fully realized, Jedi Knight Rey and a fully realized Sith Lord Ren, should have been the Last Jedi we got. Instead, we got what we got and it shattered the credibility of the entire franchise. Star Wars, the most successful franchise in cinematic history until the MCU came through, was on life support. Forty years of solid, narrative storytelling, ancillary material, and fan passion, squandered because the chick in charge wanted to instill everything with her identity politics, using something she had no creative credit toward, co-opting the shine of another, to secure her legacy. And she did just that; Kathleen Kennedy was the person who almost killed Star Wars. Kennedy’s legacy of failure, secure. But then, a new hope. Jon Favreau, the progenitor of the MCU, stepped forward and saved Star Wars with his show, The Mandalorian.

John Favreau is a great creator. Dude not only gave us Iron Man, but Chef, Swingers, and Elf. He gets the content but, more than anything, Favreau understands how to craft a goddamn story. He was appointed to The Mandalorian and given creative control by, at the time, CEO of Disney, Bob Iger. Favreau, in partnership with the genius pariah, Dave Filoni, architect of Star Wars: Clone Wars, Rebels, and the best f*cking character created in the modern era, Ahsoka Tano. With theses two at the helm, Mando returned to the true essence of a Star Wars tale. They created their own pocket universe, one with the evolution of the Mandalorian culture and sprinkled with shenanigans of an adorable, and marketable, Baby Yoda. That first season gave us amazing characters like Din Djaran, Cara Dune, Greef Kaga, and Moff Gideon. That first season of Mando saved the franchises and that is not an exaggeration. It felt like Star Wars. The characters were rich and developed. More than anything, the stories told were absolutely excellent. The funny thing about that? Mando isn’t expected to succeed like it did. No, everyone, including Kennedy, thought it was going to fail. She fought, tooth and nail, against what Favreu was trying to created, sabotaging him at every turn. But he was able to complete his show and the fandom received it with utmost fervor, eclipsing anything Kennedy and her idealouges every created. Then season two dropped.

I’m not going to sit her and say that the narrative for Season two was better than the first. It wasn’t. But that’s because season two of The Mandalorian was a love letter to the fans. Favreau and Filoni had a hit on their hands with Mando and, more importantly, they made Star Wars profitable again. This gave the two of them a margin of creative freedom that expanded into something truly marvelous. That second season of Mando was able to dig deep into the lore, introduce fan favorite characters like Ahsoka Tano and Bo-Katan Kreyze, reintroducing Boba Fett while giving him a bad-ass second in Fennec Shand, while expanding the universe for spin-offs and delivery a franchise altering return of a Jedi Knight, Luke Skywalker! Kennedy spent her entire sequel trilogy, discrediting and marginalizing the old trilogy, typified by the complete destruction of Luke in The Last Jedi, only for Mando to overturn, redeem, and empower Luke with a two minute gauntlet of Force awesomeness that rivaled the utter dominance displayed by his father at the end of Rogue One. That tidbit about Vader? Yeah, Kennedy fought against that, too. The Mando came through and proved that fallowing Lucas’ path was the true way of the Star War and Chepek agreed. We now have this entire blueprint of shows birthed from this one season, that will build toward an Avengers-level event. Ahsoka, Rangers of the New Republic, and The Book of Boba Fett will all culminate in a cinematic experience, most likely a theatrical film, based around Thrawn. And, more to the point, people are excited about this sh*t. People are looking forward to this sh*t. People want this sh*t. What they don’t want is more of Kennedy’s politics and bullsh*t hot-takes, masquerading as Star Wars canon. Case in point, the abject failure of The High Republic.

Before Favreau and Filoni came through and saved Star Wars, Kennedy had this entire idea for a full-on Star Wars universe, built upon token diversity and f*cking Space dinosaurs. There was a pitch meeting that showed a literal checklist and story was the third or fourth option. How the f*ck is story not the first thing on the list for an actual narrative you’re writing? Why the f*ck isn’t the Writer’s group, not putting story first, in a narrative they’re constructing by committee? That is the genesis of The High Republic. In the time that Youtube preview hit the fandom with all the force of a wet fart, Mando came through and proved no one wants that sh*t. Then season two came through and rived people want more Luke and more Lucas Star Wars, weeks before The High Republic, the jumping off point for Kennedy’s original vision for “New Star Wars” was supposed to launch. Yeah, that launch ain’t go so well. The High Republic is out, right now, and you can buy it. No one is buying it. They’re all paying for Disney+ memberships to watch Mando sh*t on everything Kennedy has done or will do. Disney announced a whole slate of Star Wars shows and material. One of which is The Acolyte, a spin-off from The High Republic tarring Brie Larson and written by Leslye Headland. The Acolyte is going to bomb for the same reasons The High Republic is bombing; No one wants to be preached to and that’s all these woke, blue hairs, want to do. I know that because they’ve told you as such.

The Force is Female. All of that sh*t with Pablo Hidalgo. The recent controversy of Justina Ireland telling people not to buy The High Republic if they don’t agree with her politics. The fact that Kathleen Kennedy has been trying to get Favreau fired for “sabotaging” her High Republic launch by redeeming Luke and galvanizing the entire fandom. The thing about this, though, is the fact that everything Kennedy has crated, is creatively bankrupt. Everything Favreau and Filoni have built with Mando, has been genuine, organic, and fun. Just to be clear, i actually like Brie Larson. I think she’s an excellent actress with very valid opinions. I think the sh*t she wants to make should be made. I don’t think she should co-opt a long running franchise with decades of lore and a ravenous fandom who are already on the outs with the current management of their beloved franchise. I can’t say i like Headland but i did adore her Netlfix show, Russian Doll. that sh*t was hilarious and dope. I don’t think her type of film making lends itself to Star Wars, however, for he same reason i don’t think Larson should have a show in the fandom either. Having opinions is fine. Installing those opinions in your writing is fine. Installing your opinions in an established property is not fine. You can do that, Back Panther was able to integrate that sh*t successfully, but they did it nuance. It didn’t get clumsy and ridiculous until the end. Kennedy’s writing group started with the awkward preaching. Those weren’t the droids yo were looking for, bro.

Ultimately, The High Republic is going to fail, as will the rest of Kennedy’s Star Wars legacy. Favreau is already working toward altering her most precious OC, Rey Palpatine. There are plans in the works to make her a Kenobi going forward, redeeming the most egregious of Darth Kennedy’s transgressions, something that wouldn’t even be necessary if they had followed the original treatments JJ left for them going forward. Rey Palpatine should have been Rey Skywalker. She should have been Luke’s daughter. She should have been trained by her pops and took that discipline into the final film where she and her cousin would have a proper reckoning. Rey should have been a proper character with an established legacy. Kennedy decided otherwise and in that hubris, she failed. She has failed, not because she is a Femanzi or has an eye toward activism or an agenda to push. Kennedy has failed because she decided to heavy-handedly force those politics down our throats with no nuance or grace, by slighting everything that came before with malicious intent, while bolstering her analogous creations with the worst kind of writing and non-existent development. Favreau succeeded by weaving a compelling tale, that mirrored the Hero’s tale which has been the bread-and-butter of a great Star Wars narrative, filled it with realized characters who became fast fan favorites, staunched in the lore that came before. He respected the genesis and built something great from it, while revering the stuff which came before. Kennedy thought she was bigger than the franchise. Favreau understands he is in service to it. That’s the difference, That’s why Mando is succeeding and The High Republic has been laid low.

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cristinablackthornkingson · 5 years ago

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Magnus Chase Short Story #1.

It is a warm spring day when Hearthstone and Blitzen are asked by Percy Jackson, to babysit his baby sister Estelle.

“Please guys, you’ll really be helping me out!” Percy pleads, as he, Annabeth, Magnus, Alex, Hearth and Blitz sit around a table, outside a café about 10 minutes from Percy’s home in Manhattan.

“Does your mom know you’re asking a dwarf and an elf to look after her baby, kid?” Blitz asks, raising an eyebrow at Percy. Magnus, Alex, Sam, Blitz and Hearth had met Sally Jackson a few times and they all thought she was simply the most amazing woman on earth, more of a goddess than Freya or Sif, however Blitz doubts she would want he and Hearth looking after baby Estelle, since neither of them have much experience with kids.

“Yeah, when I told her I couldn’t do it and neither could any of my friends, or Annabeth, Magnus, Sam or Alex, she asked me to ask you. I have to go to this college interview, my mom has to meet with her publisher and my step-dad has to to work.” Percy explains.

“Hey I never said I couldn’t look after her, you turned me down.” Alex points out, leaning back in his chair, lifting the front legs up and crossing his arms.

“Because you said you said if she startles you, you might shape-shift, she did that to Frank once and it did not work out well.” Percy points out.

How long do you need us to watch her for? Hearth signs.

“Just like 2 hours, my mom should be back after about 2 hours. Please guys, you’ll be doing me a huge favor.” Percy pleads.

“If we do this, will you convince that Chiron guy to let me design new t-shirts for your Greek demi-god camp?” Blitz asks. Percy nods enthusiastically.

“Yes! Yes of course I will!”

“Whadya think Hearth? Should we help the kid out?” Blitz asks, touching shoulders with Hearth.

Yes, I want to see Estelle again, she’s so cute and you know I love babies. Hearth signs, all the while smiling broadly.

“Alright, what time do we need to be there?” Blitz asks, turning to look at Percy.

“11, thanks guys you’re doing me a solid!”

The next morning, at 11 A.M. on the dot, there is a knock on the Jackson-Blofis’ family home’s door, and when Percy opens it, he is relieved to see Blitz and Hearth.

“Hey guys! Thanks for this again, Estelle is in her playpen in the living room, there’s bottles in the fridge and if she gets hungry for something else just give her anything soft and easy to chew. There’s a bag on her stroller in the hall with diapers and bibs too, and a change of clothes, and there’s more blankets and pacifiers in her crib in the first room on the left. My mom will be back at one, or just after. Thanks again, I gotta go. Bye Essie, have fun!” Percy hurriedly explains, before darting out of the room and closing the door behind him, leaving Hearth and Blitz looking at each other trying to process all that information, Percy had spoken so fast and was digging through his bag half the time, so Hearth didn’t catch half of what he said.

Did you take in any of what he just said? Hearth asks Blitz.

“Yeah I got the gist of it, diapers in a bag on her stroller, feed her soft food, we got this. Come on, lets go check on her.” Blitz says, heading into the living room.

When Estelle hears the footsteps enter the room, she looks up and her face lights up at the sight of Blitz and Hearth and she reaches up to be lifted.

Hello little one, beautiful Estelle! You remember us? Hearth signs before scooping Estelle up and settling her on his hip with a grin. Estelle coos in delight and reaches out to pat at Hearth’s face.

“Do you remember me Estelle? I brought you a gift, kid.” Blitz says in a happy tone, digging around in his bag before producing a beautiful sea blue/green onesie decorated with pink starfish and multiple colored sea-shells, along with a matching sea blue/green headband that will look beautiful with her pale skin and dark hair. Estelle squeals with delight and smiles widely at Blitz.

You spoil her. Hearth signs with his free hand, smiling at Blitz, who grins back.

“Yeah, it’s good practice for when Sam and Amir have a kid.” He says. Sam and Amir have been married for two years now and both definitely want children one day, though not for a few more years, Sam wants to finish her pilot training and work for a few years before she and Amir start trying, seeing as she won’t be able to fly once she reaches a certain stage in a pregnancy.

Hearth laughs, then turns his attention back to Estelle. This tiny little girl never fails to brighten his day and make him happy, she is so sweet and innocent, knowing nothing of the pain the world has to offer. She does not know or understand that Hearth is deaf and the way he communicates is not the norm, she just sees someone who loves her and makes her laugh and smile.

Hearth begins to sign something to Blitz, but as he holds his hand up, Estelle reaches out and grabs onto his finger, grinning in delight like she has just discovered gold. Hearth laughs softly and kisses Estelle’s cheek.

“How come she can get away with grabbing your hand but I can’t?” Blitz grumbles.

She is cute, that’s why. Hearth signs, managing to get Estelle to let go.

“Oh and I’m not cute, is that what you’re saying?” Blitz asks in a mock hurt tone. Hearth laughs and shakes his head.

You are cute too, but Estelle is cuter.

“You gonna leave me to come be The Blofis’ nanny? Leave me at the mercy of Alex and Magnus?” Blitz teases, wanting to see Hearth smile again. Hearth’s smile is one of Blitz’s favorite things in the world, alongside Hearth himself.

No, not when I have finally gotten you to admit you do want children with me. Blitz signs, as Estelle tugs at his hair. Hearth has always known he would one day like to have children, though he knows that in any of the 9 worlds, it will be difficult for him to adopt, due to his disability, no one seems to think a deaf person can be a good parent, for some ridiculous reason. Blitz was unsure if he wanted children for a long time, then he and Hearth started dating and he realized he did want children, but was almost too afraid to say it to Hearth, in case he did not feel the same. They finally talked about it a few weeks ago and agreed to adopt in a few years, or at least start the process.

“Yeah yeah, don’t go getting soft on me pal, Estelle you’re turning my boyfriend to mush with your adorable little face, take it easy!” Blitz teases, tickling Estelle’s cheek, making her squirm and scream in delight. Hearth suddenly wrinkles his nose, and signs

Do you smell that? Blitz sniffs, then immediately covers his nose.

“Gods kid, what do they feed you? I better go find you a diaper, then Hearth can change you.” At this, Hearth’s eyes widen and he shakes his head.

No he signs Not me, you. Blitzen is not eager to change little Estelle’s diaper, either. There’s only one way to settle it, the way he and Hearth settle everything. He sighs and fishes a coin from his pocket.

“Flip for it?” He asks. Hearth nods. “You take heads I take tails?” He asks. Again, Hearth nods. Blitz flips the coin, then catches it, and lets out a whoop of delight when he sees it has landed on Heads.

A few minutes later, Estelle is lying on the sofa contentedly chewing on one of her toys, while Hearth does his best to change her diaper, and Blitzen stands by watching and laughing, though his laugh is cut off when Hearth throws a rolled up dirty diaper at him, hitting him square in the chest. .

After a few more minutes of fumbling, Hearth manages to get a new diaper on Estelle. He then lifts her up and holds her in the crook of his arm.

There. He signs. All better. We should take her a for a walk. Blitz figures a walk might tire Estelle out, meaning less work for he and Hearth, if she falls asleep, so he agrees to the walk.

After about 10 minutes of struggling to get Estelle strapped into her stroller, Blitz and Hearth are out the door and strolling around the streets of Manhattan, with Hearth pushing the stroller and Blitz walking at his side, his arm linked through with his boyfriend’s.

About 15 minutes into the walk, they are stopped by a smiling woman with dark skin, dark red hair, dressed in a flowing floral maxi dress and sandals. She smiles at them and peers down into the stroller, at Estelle.

“Oh she is so precious!” The woman exclaims. “What’s her name?”

“Estelle.” Blitzen replies.

“Oh that’s a lovely name! It suits her, how did you choose it?” The woman asks, confusing Blitz and Hearth.

We didn’t. Hearth signs, and Blitzen translates for him.

“Oh, did her mother choose her name then?” The woman asks, earning a ‘Well duh’ look from Blitz.

“Uh yeah.” Blitz says, wondering why this woman is asking these weird questions. Why would he and Hearth have chosen Estelle’s name?

“Are you in contact with her mother?” The woman curiously asks, this time earning a confused look from Hearth.

“Uh, obviously.” Blitz replies.

“Oh well yes, I suppose if her mother chose her name you would still be in contact. You have an open adoption then? Is it fully open, or semi?” When the woman asks this question, Hearth and Blitz both have the same two thoughts. 1. Who the helheim is this woman to be asking such personal questions? And 2. This woman thinks Estelle is Hearth and Blitz’s daughter.

She’s not ours. Hearth signs.

“Yeah, we’re not her parents, we’re babysitting. Her brother is a friend, needed a favor.” Blitz explains. The woman blushes, obviously very embarrassed.

“Oh I see, I am terribly sorry! You just look like a perfect little family together. I’m sorry.” She says in an embarrassed tone. When she leaves, Hearth and Blitz share a look, as if to say ‘What the helheim just happened?’

She thought Estelle was ours. Hearth signs. Blitz nods.

“Yeah, not sure how I feel about that.”

Me neither.

The little trio end up walking for an hour in total, and by the time they get back to the house, all three of them are exhausted and end up conked out on the sofa, Blitzen and Hearth shoulder to shoulder, and Estelle on Hearth’s chest, his hand over her back. They sleep soundly for an entire hour, only to woken by the sound of a key in a lock and the door opening. They are just sitting up and rubbing the sleep from their eyes, when Sally Jackson steps in and smiles warmly at them.

“Hey, she tire you out?” She softly asks, setting her keys and bag down.

“Nah, she was good as gold, we just tired ourselves out on a walk.” Blitz answers.

“She likes you Hearth, she never sleeps that easily for anyone but Paul or Percy, or sometimes Annabeth.” Sally says with a smile. Hearthstone smiles softly, his hand still resting protectively on little Estelle’s back.

She is very sweet, always makes me smile. He signs.

“Oh she’s as sweet as pie now, but she can be a right little devil at times, she has one hell of a temper, I’m thankful she doesn’t have water powers like her brother or we would be forever fixing things.” Sally laughs. It’s not often Estelle throws tantrums, but when she does you can probably hear her up on Olympus.

“Like Hearth.” Blitzen laughs, earning a glare from his boyfriend, who also has a temper that rarely shows, but when it does show, you do not want to see it.

“Well thank you both very much for today, it’s not often we can’t find a sitter for her, but you know demi-gods, always busy with something.” Sally says, taking Estelle when she reaches for her.

We loved taking care of her, we had a lot of fun. Hearth says.

“I’m glad, and of course you are welcome to come see her anytime, she just loves you both. Oh, and thank you for the clothes you sent last week, Blitzen, they are just gorgeous.” Sally says in an appreciative tone, remembering the package of clothes Blitzen had sent for both her and Estelle.

“Ah don’t mention it, what’s the point in having a fashion designer for a friend, if you can’t get free clothes? You ready to go pal?” Blitz asks, nudging Hearth who is fixing his scarf around his neck. Hearth nods and they both get to their feet. Hearth smiles at Estelle and leans in to kiss her cheek.

See you soon sweet Estelle. Hearth signs. Blitz ruffles her hair.

“Yeah, see you soon kid. Be good for your mom, you have no idea how lucky you are to have her.”

Hearth and Blitz make their way out of the house, and start walking toward the subway to go back into Boston. As they do, Blitz slings an arm around Hearth and says

“Come on you big softy, lets go make sure our other kid, Magnus, hasn’t started Ragnarök yet.”

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space-blue · 4 years ago

Text

Unlikely Friendship

Ellois opened the virio he'd received in the mail with a sigh. He turned to watch Bulla collapse on the pouf next to his with a grunt.

'I have one also,' the orc said, baring her fangs in what looked like a sympathetic smile but Ellois knew was really a grimace of dread. She twirled a little roll of parchment between her tapered fingers. 'Family not so good with technology, but same crap, you don't worry.'

Ellois laughed. 'Shall we open them together then, and find out if things have calmed down back home?'

Bulla snorted and popped the seal of her letter. 'Friend, if the news is peace, I change career, buy the Cut-Boulder inn and you drink free every night your entire life.'

'Deal,' he said, without worrying of ruining his friend's prospects.

The pure indignation of his parent, family, and the bemused wonder of his entire clan was something he'd foreseen when he'd announced he was joining the new inter-species course of the dwarvish Bolarukt Metallurgic University. He'd expected all of the unexpected. But that, as an elf, he'd find himself becoming closest to an orc lass had not made the list of his wildest speculations. It also hadn't made the list of things he'd written home about. "Feels quite lonely, this campus under the mountain! Turns out I'm the sole elf here (haha!), but not to worry, foreigner's club is welcoming and diverse, made friends with another loner! Charming Barung orc named Bulla–" He probably would have gone home to find his entire forest bereft of elves, his home-tree tacked with his disinheritance and banishment.

The virio's gold threading shimmered, expanding and vibrating as they formed the image of his sister's face. Her voice came tiny and distorted. She sounded exasperated. She was the one who'd started the virio message, and warned that when their mother's turn came, she might insist he come home for the Bel-Lunar feast.

"You know, I think she hopes you'll refuse? Half the family will pester you to remain, half our friends will want to put you at the forge to see how "tainted" your skills are, and right about everyone will want to hear your stories, and get fed in the process." She laughed then, a brittle sound, "I personally hope you come dressed in dwarven mail and with a filthy long beard. Give them something to be so shocked about, they'll stop plaguing me for news, get my drift?"

She was right too, his mother's message was to ask him to return for the festivities. "Maybe bring something special? Some assignment you made, that would reassure the family?" His father, looking tired and hard-pressed, appeared next, and then the two cousins who worked with him in the family forge. It was all pleas, gossip, and grief. The usual.

'You're safe Bulla,' Ellois said, folding the metal cage over his grinning cousin's face.

The orc didn't reply. She was starring dead ahead into nothingness. Ellois glanced around the room, just in case. They weren't alone of course, he could tell from the four pair of halfling feet that cropped up from the large couch by the fireplace. The inseparable group spent every afternoon break napping on that couch, and they sat there too in the evening, feet towards the fire this time. They'd effectively turned it into a sort of inland halfling nation that none of the other members of the Foreign Student Lounge dared infringe upon. Two humans, Mel and Ardan, a couple now, were playing a game of Atrib in a corner and not minding anyone else.

'Is it bad news then,' he asked, turning back to his friend. She looked like some blue-quartz statue with inlaid obsidian eyes, she was so still. Ellois snapped his fingers.

'Ah!' Bulla started. 'Yes. News. No, not bad.'

'Wait,' Ellois felt a shiver down his spine, 'you're not busy calculating the selling price of the Cut-Boulder are you?'

'Not bad news–terrible. My fair elf friend, you come from precious society, yes?'

Ellois gave her a deadpan glare. They hadn't gone for the passive-aggressive praising in months now.

"I mean you have nice society, full of the feelings.' She made a butterfly motion with her hand, her bone bracelets clicking. 'You let the children do what they feel, marry the person they feel for. Love, yes.'

'Sure,' Ellois said, confused. 'We live a long time. Maybe you can ask a human to put up with another for thirty years, but for an elf to spend centuries with another they do not like, it would be silly.'

'Yes. It is a nice way.'

'What's your practice in Barung?'

'Like this,' she said, grimacing at the parchment, 'by the mother telling her daughter "when you come home this Bel-Lunar break I introduce a fine orc to you. His family is large, runs an armoury, and they were very impressed by your work. He has two fine tusks and black hair like soot, very dashing. Your fathers approve." See, I think I made a tactical error when I sent my chain mail back home.'

Bulla was in the opposite situation to Ellois'. They were both the first of their kind to join the University, but her admittance had been the pride and joy of her family, and had, as far as Ellois could understand the very murky familial politics of Barung orcs, greatly increased their status. She suffered from jealousy, gossip and familial pressure. Two months prior they'd started the armour course, during which the foreign students had each spent a week teaching everyone some local techniques, before moving to the dwarven four-fold layering of scale-plated cuirasses. Karli, a Nortern woman, had demonstrated a splendid process to merge mail and plate in a single outfit, and Bulla had worked late into the night to adapt this to light orcish-style armour. She'd made a baby-sized model in copper and sent it home, and then had grinned for two days straight until the engineering professor had told her to quit it with the terrifying teeth display.

Ellois laughed a little. He felt bad for his friend, but it was funny.

'You made yourself too eligible then? Surely you can say no? Don't you have some sort of status matching going on?'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, you can already chat comfortably with the humans in midland-speak, you soak up elvish as fast as I let it out, though you'd need to file your teeth to fix your accent, you're obviously doing great in your dwarvish classes, that's four languages! You'll never be a jeweller but you're already in the top of the armour class. Plus haven't you gotten accepted in the Greater Metalworks studios for the summer months? You'll be smelting Alfuris! You must be the only orc who's ever seen that metal and lived to speak of it."

Ellois was on his knees on the carpet by now, waving enthusiastically. The human couple had turned from their game to listen to his peroration.

'You're a good friend, full of praise,' Bulla said, her cheeks flushed purplish with pleasure, 'but your value of me is– Oh! I see!'

'Right? Why not write home saying your status is much too high now to even think of marrying some armourer?'

'He's right, you know,' Mel called out, 'golden haired and golden tongued, our master elf! But you could be the first orc ambassador to the Midland Marsh as soon as you graduate.'

'Yeah, just don't open a business in the capital, no need for that sort of competition.' Ardan added, eyes already back on the board in front of him.

'Thank you, friends, I think on this now.'

And she did. She thought about what to do as she manned her bellows, thought about what to write as she peered in her crucible, tried to think about nothing as she hammered away, her broad shoulders slick with sweat, creating the assigned shapes. By the time she arrived at the animated-goldwork class which she shared with Ellois, she'd made up her mind. She would write that she'd been privileged with extra work, and could not return home. It would buy her time. She'd barely sat down that Ellois was upon her, his golden hair tousled and plastered to his brow, black streaks ran across his cheeks where he'd brushed sweat away carelessly. He looked like he'd run straight from his last forge.

'I have an idea!' The elf cried excitedly. 'I struck down on a piece of silver and it sang and I knew, like I had been speaking to it and it answered back! Haha!'

'What is it?' Bulla asked, bewildered. She'd never seen Ellois this out of sorts, and she'd seen him passed-out drunk under a tavern bench.

'As you know, I also got a message. It came with some advice, "to make a tremendous impression", to solve my own problems.' He grinned, eyes glinting with mischief, 'how would you feel about spending Bel-Lunar feast in an elvish home?'

~~ September/October 2019 – Theme : School

#original work #original story #competition #fantasy

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fenharel-babe · 4 years ago

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@ma-serannas-vhenan

Update >:))). AND THIS IS RLLY LONG MY BAD DHWBD.

I still love how Alistairs voice cracks sometimes when he’s in his goofy voice, how serious he comes at times, and how sometimes his voice is soft and not loud but,,confident in a way?? Even if he himself isn’t confident. I love him,,,

Yo I’m such an idiot. When they say “Lady” I expected like a human but it’s just werewolves.

OH WAIT NO ITS NOT THERE IS A SPIRIT (?) AND SHES THE LADY OF THE FOREST!!

Hnnng,,the keeper (forgot his name) is not willing to talk to the werewolves even though HE IS THE ONE WHO DID THE CURSE IN THE FIRST PLACE?!! I will force him to talk to them bc I’m an Empath™️ and WILL try to keep things peaceful >:((

YESSS I CONVINCED HIM TO TALK TO THEMM!! He better not harm them >:(. But I do see where he’s coming from. They did kill his son and then hurt his daughter all the same,,,that is terrible, but you shouldn’t give them an ETERNITY of pain. I wouldn’t like an eternity of pain, and so I wouldn’t be able to wish an eternity of pain on someone. Maybe a few years, but not eternity. But maybe I’m saying that bc I’m not him who knows-

NO!! I DONT WANT TO FIGHT HIM PLEASSEEE. I don’t want him to die,,the Dalish will not be on our side since we killed the keeper but like,,,making all those people suffer, even YOUR clan suffer because of your revenge isn’t right. They deserve peace now at least. They’ve sure learned their lesson and deserve a bit of peace,,,

OH. Alistair approves? I thought he would’ve disapproved just a little since I’m protecting wolves who have been cursed (for a good reason tbh even tho they don’t deserve it forever) and how they are dangerous. I’m happy then :))).

YESS! SPIRIT!! She can’t kill him since if they can’t show mercy then the keeper cant!! YES!! I LOVE HER!! I would LOVE for her to be my lady. I mean if I was under her rule lol. And I’m so happy I got to basically let everyone have peace. The keeper may have had to die, but maybe he’s at peace now with his kids. Idk if he had a wife but he may be at peace now,,,I’m happy it ended okay😭. What did you choose bc I’m curious👀.

Basically all my inquisitors approve of my Grey Warden since,,I’m terrible at making different inquisitors since they all just are Empaths™️. They have 100+ approval for my grey warden lol.

AYYY!! DANYLA’S HUSBAND GOT HER SCARF AND HES GONNA GO MOURN HER BUT HEY,,AT LEAST HE KNOWS SHE SENT HER LOVE.

YES!! Alistair came up like “(ɔ ⚈︣ ᴥ ⚈︣ )ɔ” bein shy and like a puppy and he asked her to sleep with himmm!!! I love him he was so awkward and shy but sO HONEST!! Precious baby🥺. Now it’s time to talk to my companions a bit more and such and lvl up before I do the landsmeet :)))).

OH NO,,OH NO,, in an Alistair walkthrough he said “King or no king I’ll find a way for us to work,” BUT TO ME HE SAID “Idk what it means for us. I don’t want to be king, but I will if it’s the best for our nation, and I don’t know what will happen to us. I need to think about it,” OH NO DBWBS. Don’t let me lose Alistair now no😭. If so, then I WILL pull a me when I made Bloom on DAI, not finish her, and do a human route for this puppy. I will do it bdbwbs.

I love Wynne and how she’s so nice😭. She apologizes for being harsh about Rose and Alistair and how she thought she (as in Rose not Wynne) would hurt Alistair, but now she realizes that they love each other so much. And I better be able to keep Alistair please,,

Ooh,,Zevran loved his mother’s gloves but they were never seen again,,I wonder if it’s possible to find them? Hmm?? If so, I’d love to talk to him more bc Ik he had a quest and if you don’t at least come a little close to him, then it will have an unhappy ending and ya know :))) I don’t like unhappy endings :((((.

OHH!! I already found his mothers gloves I believe!! Yesss >:))).

Leliana just starting singing and HNNG THE SONG IS SO BEAUTIFUL!!! And Leliana apologizing when she was talking about the elves and saying how they were looked upon if they were well trained and realizing her words were a little harsh-ish. I love Leliana here and in DAI🥺.

Leliana trusts me and says how she feels comfortable around me and HMMM LELIANA I LOVE YOUU!! I have so many conversations to catch up with people. But it’s mainly bc I’m dumb and keep taking Leliana and Wynne and Alistair with me lol. Maybe I should take Wynne (I NEED a healer since I’m dumb and sometimes don’t notice people need healing), Morrigan, and Zevran. That’s an interesting pair. Mainly bc I’ll get to talk to Zevran more since he’ll be able to go to new places with me and maybe get more topics to talk about with him :))).

OHHH. I DIDNT REALIZE THE “Andraste’s Grace” FLOWERS WERE MEANT FOR LELIANA DABSB. I tried to give them to Zevran to try and make him be a little closer but he said no and I was like “oh? Do they only take specific gifts?” And decided the flowers seemed to fit Leliana since she is from the chantry and such and she did like them!! Now I need to find Wynnes personal item and Oghren personal item. If they have one I mean-

Aww. Wynne’s apprentice was an elf and she was young and thought he was arrogant and stubborn because he was young and knew nothing of humans other than what he saw in the Alienage. She wasn’t patient and just saw him as another mage and he couldn’t learn since he was unresponsive and closed off. And then she betrayed him off a ridiculous at the time and they had his phylactery and they hunted him down,,AND HES DEAD AND THEY KILLED HIM WHEN HE WAS LOST AND A CHILD!!! AND WYNNE NEVER LEARNED OF WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM, ONLY THAT HE DIED😭. At least Wynne learned tho. Ik it’s a terrible terrible way to learn, but at least she learned.

AND SHE SAID HOW HE WAS THE TEACHER AND SHE WAS THE STUDENT😭. AND I GOT A QUEST FOR WYNNES REGRET!! If I can somehow find her apprentice (forgot his name) THEN I WILL LITERALLY WORSHIP THIS GAME.

Oh no,,OH NO HYDRA. WAS THE HERMIT HER APPRENTICE?? PLEASE DONT TELL ME IT WAS BC I HAD TO KILL HIM. HYDRA NO-

OH THANK GOD IT WASNT HIM!! I WAS ABOUT TO BE SO MAD AT MYSELF SNWBD.

WOAH,,this is rlly long my bad. But love уσυ ( ˘ ³˘)💙. I’m excited to get DA 2 soon😌. But right now in gonna finish this but like I said earlier, if I can’t keep Alistair then I WILL start over dbwbdb. I’m that stubborn when it comes to wanting to keep LI’s lol.

#dragon age #dao #dragon age origins #dragon age: origins #da:o #da #hmmm the wait for getting DA 2 is killing me but it’s better than paying literally 20 dollars or 45 dollars for the game.#It only cost 4.99 but with shipping and stuff it costs 9.70 :))). Better than the other prices so👀👀#But Fenris I’m excited and the voice PC bc it sounds SO nice. Like I’ve said multiple times a

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