#and we know her home had gardeners from epic winter

[zyn0nn]

I’m stealing this, it’s so cute and makes so much sense

We see throughout EAH Briar doesn't really have the same connection to animals as other princesses like Ashlynn and Apple, so I headcanon that she's always been really into gardening and taking care of plants, but until Ashlynn mentioned that line about "plants have feelings too y'know" she hadn't really thought much about it.

Afterwards she started embracing it more, she already loves the outdoors and nature, it could also be a great power for her along with being a hobby she enjoys to do.

[seattlesea]

Songs I Listen to While Writing Sorted by Genre/Type of Scene

(Some songs will be in more than one category)

Romance Scenes- we fell in love in october by girl in red Strawberries and Cigarettes by Troye Sivan Fool by Cavetown Call Me by 90sFlav Girls by girl in red 3AM by Finding Hope Dream Girl by Anna of the North Stay by Zedd & Alessia Cara Somebody To Tell Me by Tyler Glenn Secrets by One Republic Paris by The Chainsmokers Safe and Sound by Capital Cities Wild Heart by Bleachers A Thousand Years by Christina Perri Fire on Fire by Sam Smith Angel With a Shotgun by The Cab She Looks So Perfect by 5 Seconds of Summer Jet Pack Blues by Fall Out Boy Trade Mistakes by Panic! At The Disco When the Day Met the Night by Panic! At The Disco Moral of the Story by Ashe We Can’t Be Friends by Dream Koala Public Making Out Is Like Ugh by DNE Moon River by Audrey Hepburn Mystery of Love by Sufjan Stevens Alewife by Clairo Girls Like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko Futile Devices (Doveman Remix) by Sufjan Stevens  Midnight Love by girl in red

Calm Scenes- Call Me by 90sFlav 5:32 by The Deli Crush by Esthie Coffee Breath by Sofia Mills Santa Monica Dream by Angus & Julia Stone Fool by Cavetown Golden Hour by Jonathon Morali Crosses by José González Death Bed by Powfu (Beat Only) 3AM by Finding Hope Waterloo Sunset by The Kinks Shy Girl by Kedam Counting Stars by One Republic Kaleidoscope Eyes by Panic! At The Disco She Had The World by Panic! At The Disco This Is Home by Cavetown Lua by Bright Eyes Sweater Weather by The Neighborhood Bedroom by Litany FLAMIN HOT CHEETOS by Clairo Will She Come Back by girl in red To All Of You by Syd Matters

Sad/Emotional Scenes- Obstacles by Syd Matters Runaway by Aurora Cancer by My Chemical Romance Unsteady by X Ambassadors State of Dreaming by MARINA Raquel y Sergio Juntos by Ivan M. Lacamera Coming Home by Falling in Reverse Spanish Sahara by Foals I’m Bad at Life by Falling in Reverse 7 Years by Lukas Graham Lost It All by Black Veil Brides Teen Idle by MARINA Hall of Fame by The Script Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish 21 Guns by Green Day Pirate Love Song by Black Heart Shatter Me by Lindsey Stirling Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap Dollhouse by Melanie Martinez The Light Behind Your Eyes by My Chemical Romance Helena (So Long and Goodnight) by My Chemical Romance Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance I Don’t Love You by My Chemical Romance The Ghost of You by My Chemical Romance Bishop Knife Trick by Fall Out Boy Indomitable by Casey Lee Williams The End of All Things by Panic! At The Disco Always by Panic! At The Disco Impossible Year by Panic! At The Disco Dying in LA by Panic! At The Disco Northern Downpour by Panic! At The Disco Far Too Young To Die by Panic! At The Disco This Is Gospel by Panic! At The Disco House of Memories by Panic! At The Disco Moral of the Story by Ashe Reason to Stay by Sody Anchor by Novo Amor Sober II (Melodrama) by Lorde Mt. Washington by Local Natives Mountains by Message To Bears

Action/Fight Scenes- Finish Line by Skillet I Ran (Epic Trailer Version) by Hidden Citizens Another One Bites The Dust (Epic Trailer Version) by Hidden Citizens Back From the Dead by Skillet Never Give In by Black Veil Brides The Phoenix by Fall Out Boy DESTROYA by My Chemical Romance Warriors by Imagine Dragons Bella Ciao by Manu Pilas What’s Up Danger by Blackway & Black Caviar The Resistance by Skillet Feel Invincible by Skillet In The End by Black Veil Brides Days Are Numbered by Black Veil Brides Fallen Angels by Black Veil Brides Caffeine by Casey Lee Williams This Will Be The Day by Casey Lee Williams 300 Violin Orchestra by Jorge Quintero Radioactive by Imagine Dragons Ready Aim Fire by Imagine Dragons Silent Running (Epic Trailer Version) by Hidden Citizens I’d Love to Change the World (Matstubs Remix) by Jetta  Tommy’s Theme by NOISIA The Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance Mama by My Chemical Romance My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light ‘Em Up) by Fall Out Boy The Carpal Tunnel of Love by Fall Out Boy Young and Menace by Fall Out Boy

Happy/Fun Scenes- Tongue Tied by Grouplove Bang! by AJR 100 Bad Days by AJR Wasted by Tiësto 3 Nights by Dominic Fike City in a Garden by Fall Out Boy I Took a Pill in Ibiza (SeeB Remix) by Mike Posner  Safe and Sound by Capital Cities Collar Full by Panic! At The Disco Ahead By a Century by The Tragically Hip American Idiot by Green Day Superhero by The Script Wild Things by Alessia Cara Here’s To Never Growing Up by Avril Lavigne Do It All The Time by I Don’t Know How But They Found Me Burn by Ellie Goulding Move To Miami by Enrique Iglesias & Pitbull Mad Hatter by Melanie Martinez King of the World by Young Rising Sons Bulletproof Heart by My Chemical Romance Na Na Na by My Chemical Romance Miss Missing You by Fall Out Boy Where Did The Party Go by Fall Out Boy Sunshine Riptide by Fall Out Boy Last of the Real Ones by Fall Out Boy Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) by Fall Out Boy Time To Dance by Panic! At The Disco Crazy=Genius by Panic! At The Disco The Overpass by Panic! At The Disco Roaring 20s by Panic! At The Disco Victorious by Panic! At The Disco LA Devotee by Panic! At The Disco Don’t Threaten Me With a Good Time by Panic! At The Disco Something Good by alt-j Hollywood by MARINA

Badass/Dark Scenes- Pretty Waste by Bones UK Bubblegum Bitch by MARINA Born For This by The Score Kings & Queens by Ava Max Castle by Halsey Caffeine by Casey Lee Williams Heaven Knows by The Pretty Reckless Joan of Arc by In This Moment Believer by Imagine Dragons Sand Storm by Apashe you should see me in a crown by Billie Eilish Power & Control by MARINA Fancy by Iggy Azalea Look What You Made Me Do by Taylor Swift Empire of Our Own by RAIGN Revolution by Unsecret & Ruelle Unstoppable by The Score Control by Halsey Gasoline by Halsey Tag, You’re It by Melanie Martinez  Up In The Air by Thirty Seconds To Mars So What by P!NK Do It Like A Dude by Jessie J Ready For It? by Taylor Swift Teenagers by My Chemical Romance Centuries by Fall Out Boy I Don’t Care by Fall Out Boy Rat a Tat by Fall Out Boy Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea by Fall Out Boy Champion by Fall Out Boy Thnks fr the Mmrs by Fall Out Boy One Thing by Casey Lee Williams I May Fall by Casey Lee Williams This Life Is Mine by Casey Lee Williams Let’s Kill Tonight by Panic! At The Disco Girls/Girls/Boys by Panic! At The Disco The Good, The Bad, and The Dirty by Panic! At The Disco Mount Everest by Labrinth Legendary by Skillet Homewrecker by MARINA Modern Day Cain by I Don’t Know How But They Found Me

That One Vibin’ Scene- When I RIP by Labrinth Sweatin’ Somethin’ Awful by Okey Dokey Wasted by Tiësto Leave Me Alone by I Don’t Know How But They Found Me Piano Fire by Sparklehorse Blinding Lights by The Weeknd Good News by Ocean Park Standoff Hey There Delilah by Plain White T’s East of Eden by Zella Day Hazy Shade of Winter by The Bangles (or the Gerard Way cover) 5:15 by Bridgit Mendler Here by Alessia Cara Joan of Arc by In This Moment Mr. Doctor Man by Palaye Royale Cool For a Second by Yumi Zouma Counting Stars by One Republic Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood Ho Hey by The Lumineers We Can’t Be Friends by Dream Koala Public Making Out Is Like Ugh by DNE Sober II (Melodrama) by Lorde North by Sleeping at Last 400 Lux by Lorde No. 1 Party Anthem by Arctic Monkeys Still Don’t Know My Name by Labrinth Primadonna by MARINA dontmakemefallinlove by Cuco

That ‘Holy Shit I Can’t Believe That Just Happened’ Scene- All For Us by Labrinth (or the Zendaya version) Raquel y Sergio Juntos by Ivan M. Lacamera Forever by Labrinth Coming Home by Falling in Reverse Superheroes by Falling in Reverse (also works really well for cliffhanger-ending scenes) Carry On by Falling in Reverse The Thunder Rolls by Garth Brooks (if you don’t like country music, listen to the All That Remains cover) Zombie by The Cranberries Obstacles by Syd Matters Glory and Gore by Lorde Empire of Our Own by RAIGN When It’s All Over by RAIGN Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap

The Cinematic Teen Experience Scene- Amsterdam by Imagine Dragons Midnight City by M83 Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush (Meg Myers’ cover does better with the category though) Good News by Ocean Park Standoff Circles by Post Malone Rollercoaster by Bleachers Bad Idea! by girl in red Mr. Brightside by The Killers Fireflies by Owl City Undercover Martyn by Two Door Cinema Club Check Yes Juliet by We The Kings The Kids From Yesterday by My Chemical Romance I’m Not Okay by My Chemical Romance Fourth of July by Fall Out Boy Tip Toe by Imagine Dragons Someone To You by Banners Gone Gone Gone by Phillip Phillips Make You Mine by PUBLIC Out of my League by Fitz and The Tantrums Perks of Being a Sunflower by Soft Glas A World Alone by Lorde Wetsuit by The Vaccines Bored to Death by blink-182 There’s a Place by The All-American Rejects 18 by Anabor Mother by Smallpools Tompkins Square Park by Mumford and Sons 400 Lux by Lorde The Horse by Beach Fossils Ribs by Lorde Can I Call You Tonight? by Dayglow Hot Rod by Dayglow Marlboro Nights by Lonely God Under Stars by Aurora Sweet Disposition by The Temper Trap Do Not Wat by Wallows Cold Cold Man by Saint Motel Forget Her by girl in red Buzzcut Season by Lorde A World Alone by Lorde Time to Pretend by MGMT Kids by MGMT Bags by Clairo My Tears Are Becoming a Sea by M83 Talia by King Princess (or the girl in red cover) Maybe by girl in red

And yeah that’s all I have for now. If you want any other categories just ask cause I’ll probably make a part two anyways. 

[twelvedaysofxmasandawhopper]

Grand Canyon: Rim to rim to rim.

01/22-01/26 2021.

Unknowingly, my cousin and I started down the South Kaibab Trail a day earlier than our permit stated. Luckily it worked out in our favor. 14 miles in I reached Cottonwood campground and was greeted by a very worrisome park ranger. I was in my standard shirt and shorts when she saw me and asked where I was headed. I told her we were camping here for the night and heading up to North Rim the next day. That didn’t sit well with her. She asked me if I would reconsider my hike as the weather was getting very bad and a winter storm was approaching, that if something were to happen to us up there no one would be up there to save us. I told her no, that we were fine and knew what we were doing and that we were looking forward to hiking in that storm. Looking at my pack size, the ranger thought I was a day hiker and did not have the proper gear to survive a few days down in the canyon. I assured her I had everything I needed and that I was experienced and knew what I was doing. That still didn’t change her mind as she kept telling me about how dangerous it was up there and how much she really did not want us hiking up there and with her 15 years of being a ranger there this storm was going to be very harsh. After about 5 minutes I finally agreed with her and said, “Okay, we wont go up there. You’re the ranger and know what you’re talking about so if you say it’s bad up there, we wont attempt it”. She was relieved to hear that and thanked me and gave us permission to changed our permit and camp wherever we pleased. Bummed and feeling let down, we kind of accepted the face that rim to rim to rim might not be possible this trip and went to bed.

Waking up the next morning, the sun was out and the weather was perfect. We spent the morning thinking that we could reach the North Rim, but with everything the ranger told us and knowing that weather in the canyon could be very unpredictable, we accepted our fate and started hiking back South. About 5 miles in we came across an older couple hiking in the opposite direction. I asked if they were heading toward the North Rim which they responded that they were. I told them everything the ranger told us and they responded that they just talked to that same ranger. She told them that with this sudden change of good weather, they could attempt the North Rim as long as they knew when to turn back if they needed to. Also that the ranger felt, “horrible for telling the couple at cottonwood not to go up there because the weather was so beautiful today”. Feeling a bit aggravated and unsure what to do, we thought about it for a minute, said fuck it, and started heading back North. We decided we would camp at Cottonwood again, wake up early and do the North Rim as  day hike and come back down to camp at Cottonwood again.

Waking up at 5 in the morning, we ate and packed a day pack and set up for the North Rim. It had rained that night so everything was wet and there was fresh snow at higher elevation. Around 7:30 the sun started peaking out of the cloud to present us beautiful misty views of the North Rim. The snow was fresh and there were no tracks in front of us meaning that we were most likely indeed the only people on the North end of the park. It was cold but as long as I was moving I kept warm and leaded the path up to the top. Just past Supai Tunnel, the post holing really began. Not too deep but enough to definitely slow me down and make me work for it. A few miles in I was starting to consider heading back down. I knew I was getting closer to the top but it was starting to feel never ending. However with the beautiful views and the fact that I was almost there, I had to push through and keep going. At about 9:38 AM, I was at the North Kaibab Trailhead, the only soul on top of the North Rim. Feeling accomplished but knowing that a storm could be approaching any second, I started heading down. I ran into my cousin about a mile from the top and told her she was almost there and that I would wait for her down at the restroom at Supai Tunnel. Not too long after, she came back down after reaching the top and met back up with me and we started heading back down, just as the snow started falling. Coasting down trail was relaxing and rewarding knowing that we just completed rim to rim of the Grand Canyon. We made it back to Cottonwood, chilled in our tents, and avoided the rain.

The next morning, we quickly packed up to avoid the morning rain and hiked an easy 7 miles to Bright Angel Campground. Getting there way too early, we had the whole day to relax and do nothing. Bright Angel was a lot more populated with hikers and tourists coming down to Phantom Ranch. (Phantom Ranch: where the tourists come down into the canyon on mules and stay in fancy cabins and get a hot meal from the restaurant with a months in advance reservation). We got the idea that since the weather was shitty, there had to some cancellations at the restaurant and we could maybe snag a fancy gourmet dinner, which to our luck there were and my cousin paid for both of us (thanks Lauren). Dinner was at 6:30, giving us a few hours to hang around and wait. Soon enough the weather hit us with 40 mph wind gusts and some rain. Hunkered down in our tents we waiting it out and hoped that it would end soon, which it did. 6:30 came around and we hit the restaurant and got our meals. A salad, cornbread, vegetarian chili and a cookie for dessert. Coming from previous thru hikes and getting used to the hiker trash lifestyle, I couldn’t help but laugh at how boujee I felt. But it was delicious, rewarding and I enjoyed every second of it. Expecting rain and wind all night, we went to camp and hoped for the best.

The next and last morning, we woke up and was shocked at how peaceful the night was. No rain, no wind, just calmness. Happily packing up dry gear, we left Bright Angel Camp and started on Bright Angel Trail, heading up to the last rim. There were mild rain showers and snow flurries but the views of the Colorado river were epic and the higher we got the views became more epic. The snow on Bright Angel was a lot more chill compared to North Kaibab. I got my groove going and reached Indian Garden in no time. After that it was the home stretch, only 4.5 miles of climbing to the top and we were done. I was back in my groove and was crushing it and by 11:30 AM I was at Bright Angel Trail head and had just completed the rim to rim to rim hike. Feeling accomplished, I took a few pictures and went straight to the restrooms to dry off and to my surprise, there were heaters in the restrooms, the greatest thing I could have asked for at the time. I waited for my cousin to reach the top, high fived and headed back to the car and left the Grand Canyon feeling accomplished. I don’t think that many people experienced their rim to rim to rim hike quite like ours and it was, as the word for this adventure was: epic.

Don’t ever ever ever visit the Grand Canyon in the Summer.

[harley-sunday]

A Good Man Goes to War [03]

Summary: Starts right after Civil War. Steve Rogers is done being Captain America and quite happy living a quiet life in a safe house somewhere in Canada. Until Thanos goes after the Infinity Stones. What happens when a good man goes to war?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC (f) but could be read as reader insert.

Warnings: Loss.

Word count: 4.5k

Entry for @browngirlmagic​‘s writing challenge. My prompt was “Demons run when a good man goes to war.”

AN: We’re getting closer to the end. This one hurt, not going to lie, but you know, full-circle and all that. Well, almost anyway. Please let me know what you think ♥

I don’t do taglists, but if you follow Harley Sunday x Steve Rogers you should see any update I post.

Masterlist

“Steve?”

There’s something about her voice that’s different, but it isn’t the worried tone he’s heard before. He wonders what is going on and if it has something to do with the strange way she’s been acting ever since they got back from their trip into town yesterday. There was some secrecy involved when it came to the contents of her drugstore bag and really the only thing he can come up with is that maybe she’s dyeing her hair and wants it to be a surprise. She has been in the bathroom for a quite some time already, after all. 

He finds her upstairs, but in their bedroom, hair looking her normal color, pacing up and down the room with a smile on her face and something that he thinks looks like a thermometer in her hands. To say he’s confused would be an understatement. He sits down on the bed at her request and can’t help himself, “Are you ok?”

She stands in front of him, smiling even more widely and then she shows him the stick that says ‘over three weeks’ followed by a whispered, “I think I’m pregnant.”

It’s a good thing he’s already sitting down, because his head is spinning, and he can’t believe this is actually happening. He knows she’s waiting for him to say something, anything, but all he can think about is how he finally seems to get to have the normal life he’s been dreaming of for so long. He looks up at her and when he sees the worried look on her face he quickly takes one of her hands in his and pulls her closer. 

“You ok?” Her voice is soft, her free hand running through his hair before she presses a kiss to the top of his head.

He nods, gently tugging on her hips to make her sit down in his lap and then he kisses her to show her that, really, he is. 

She smiles into the kiss before she pulls back a little, resting her forehead against his, “I know we never talked about this,” she clears her throat,  “but-”

“Hey,” he interrupts her, pulling back a little so he can look at her, “there is nothing to talk about.” He kisses her again before he continues, “I have two missions left, but once they’re done I can’t wait to settle down here with you and,” he puts his hand on her stomach, “this little one.”

“I love you,” she says, sounding a little relieved, throwing her arms around him and pulling him close.

“I love you too, doll,” he replies with a smile, vowing right then and there he’ll make her his once he’s back for good. 

Natasha visits them somewhere in May and somehow she knows?

He’s pretty sure he hasn’t told her anything, but still she shows up with a present for them, a wooden toy that turns out to be Russian made and exactly like the one she had when she was just a baby. Something passes over her features as she tells him about it, which in turn stop him from asking about it, after all he knows her well enough to know she doesn’t like to talk about her childhood. 

He is surprised to see Natasha greet her like they're old friends when she steps into the cabin, their quick banter making him realize there’s more to their story than he first thought. He looks at them expectantly.

“Yeah, so uh,” she clears her throat, and nods towards the woman standing next to her, “Nat and I know each other from way back.” 

“Right,” he says, because of course they do. Honestly, he should have seen this coming. 

“I taught her some basic hand-to-hand combat skills when she first started running this safe house,” Natasha offers with a grin. “Fury set it up.”

“So that day you and Sam came over?”

“She knew who I was,” Natasha nods.

“Huh.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, not sure if he should be mad or relieved. He decides he needs more information, “And you’ve been keeping in touch or?”

Natasha nods, “We use the secure line and sort of developed a code for everything.” She snickers then, “We call you ‘The puppy’.”

He looks from Natasha to her and sees she’s trying to keep a straight face from the way she’s biting her lip, but ultimately she fails and laughs, “It was the only thing we could come up with that would make sense to talk about once you moved in.” She looks at Natasha, “He’s a good boy, though.”

Natasha nods in agreement, a sparkle in her eyes, “He really is.” 

“I hate you,” he says, shaking his head, trying his hardest not to laugh. 

“No you don’t,” both she and Natasha counter at the same time.

There’s a mission somewhere in June, but both Natasha and Sam assure him they can handle it, and so he gets to stay with her, preparing the cabin for the summer months. He tends to the vegetable garden mostly, making sure to remove the dead crops after the winter and sowing new ones in time for the harvest in September, while she busies herself with the annual spring cleaning. 

She’s just over three months when his birthday comes around, and he loves the way she’s already showing a little. The first trimester passed without too much trouble, except for some morning sickness she keeps telling him to stop worrying about. Like last year she’s made him all sorts of cupcakes for his birthday, the candle put into the blueberry one this time. He slightly alters his wish from last year, but ultimately he wishes for the same thing even though there’s still one mission coming up. 

They’re on the front porch, where she’s sitting in his lap, her fingers running through his hair over and over again in a way that make him completely relaxed. Once again he wishes he could stop time and just enjoy this moment forever. 

“Have you thought of any names yet?” 

Her soft voice interrupts his thoughts and he shakes his head, “Not really.” 

“No?” She sounds surprised, “I have.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she replies, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

He looks up at her expectantly.

“Oh, you want me to tell you?” she acts surprised. “Nope,” she says then, popping the p, “not until you come up with some of your own.” 

“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” He gently pinches her sides, making her laugh.

“Yeah, it’s like that,” she counters with a grin, hollering then when he lifts her up in one swift motion and throws her over his shoulder, “Steve!” 

He leaves for his last mission somewhere at the end of August, even though every fiber in his body tells him not to go. She assures him she’ll be fine and that she won’t do anything crazy, but still he’s a little distracted when Natasha and Sam pick him up, and Natasha gently tells him to snap out of it when they take off. 

When he returns home four weeks later she’s waiting for him on the porch, her stomach much rounder than when he left. She is glowing and he falls in love with her a little more, this strong woman that he knows will be an amazing mother soon. He holds her as tight as he can, pressing a kiss to her temple before he bends over and kisses her stomach, whispering a quiet, “Hey little one, Daddy’s home.”

“And here to stay,” she adds with a smile, relief washing through her voice as she runs her fingers through his hair. 

He stands up straight and pulls her in for a kiss, smiling against her lips when he murmurs, “‘M never leaving you again.” 

“At least not until we’ve finished painting the nursery,” she jokes before she throws her arms around his neck and kisses his passionately, a quiet moan escaping her when she opens her mouth and his tongue slips in. 

His hands are halfway to her thighs, ready to lift her up, when he realizes there’s now a bump in the way and so instead he pulls back from the kiss and picks her up bridal style, carrying her up to their bedroom with ease. She snuggles up to him once he’s joined her on the bed, her fingers drawing intricate patterns on the arm that’s carefully draped over her stomach, and a quiet sort of happiness settles over him because she’s home to him.

She asks him if he has thought any more about names, but he tells her he still has some time and to not rush him otherwise he’ll name the kid Natasha whether it’s a girl or not.

They finish the nursery with a month to spare, the pale yellow walls of his old bedroom now a soft green with tangerine accents, or so she tells him anyway. To him it’s just green and orange. They decided early on that they’d rather not know the sex of the baby in advance, hence the lack of blue and pink in the room, which suits him just fine. 

He makes good on his promise to make her his early November, exactly one year after their first kiss. He wishes he could say there was an epic proposal that knocked her off her feet, but in reality it was more of a joint decision. Like everything they have been doing so far. She was quick to tell him that she wasn’t one for big parties and so they traveled just across the border, to Littlefork, where they got married at city hall. They make a weekend out of it, and drive back home the long way round, spending their wedding night in a lodge somewhere in Caribou Falls. 

They call Natasha on their way back home and tell her the news, but ask her to keep it to herself, at least for a little while. After all, he’s still not really talking to anyone else but Natasha and Sam and he’s not sure he ever will. Natasha invites herself and Sam to a visit on Christmas Day in the way that only she can, and of course they tell her they’re more than welcome. 

Once they get home, time seems to go even faster and before he knows it’s early December and she yells at him to grab the hospital bag and gun it to town, because she thinks her water has just broke. He panics, just a little, but she stays remarkably calm and jokes that maybe she should drive. They make it there in about thirty minutes, a record he’s not necessarily proud of, but according to the doctors they got there just in time because the baby’s head is already crowning. 

He gets to go with her to the delivery room and there he gets to witness a primal power that far exceeds his own when she pushes and pushes and pushes until there is a baby and he is a father. 

He thinks it is the best feeling in the world, but then they put the baby on her stomach and he can actually pinpoint the moment she becomes a mother, and it’s like his heart grows ten sizes with nothing but love for her. He presses a kiss to her temple and whispers, “I love you,”

She smiles, a little exhausted, and sweaty, but still more beautiful than ever, and then the doctor informs them that it’s a little boy and she nods, looking down at the baby, whispering a quiet, “Hello, little man,” before she looks up at him, “I really like Wyatt.” 

“Wyatt it is,” he replies, because somehow it fits, but also because right now he would do anything she’d ask him to. 

“It means ‘brave in war’,”  she offers, gently stroking their son’s blond hair. 

One of the nurses steps in then, taking the baby from her, wrapping it in a blanket and handing it to him, because they’d like to clean her up a little, and so here he is, holding this tiny little baby boy that is his son. He takes it all in, the little fingers, the tiny toes, and the scrunched up nose that he hopes will end up looking like hers. 

He knows he’ll be forever indebted to her now, because there is nothing he could ever give her that matches this, even though he vows right then and there, with Wyatt as his witness, that he’ll never stop trying. 

Natasha and Sam visit them on Christmas day like they planned and suddenly the house is filled with people and laughter and stories of the good old days, and he doesn’t remember a time when he was happier. He tells them stories about Christmas when he was a kid, how Bucky would always find a way to get enough money to buy them a slice of fruitcake from the bakery around the corner. Talking about Bucky makes him realize he misses his best friend and he wonders how things are over in Wakanda. Maybe he should try to contact T’Challa in the new year, see if they can come over for a visit. After all, he did promise her he’d take her there someday.

Wyatt ends up spending most of the day in Natasha’s arms, who keeps whispering, what sound like little secrets, to him in Russian. Wyatt just stares at her intently, like he knows exactly what she’s talking about. He’s a little hesitant to let Sam hold his son, but it turns out Sam’s a natural, quietly singing Marvin Gaye songs as he walks around the living room with Wyatt in his arms until dinner is ready. He is sad to see them leave at the end of the night, but they promise they’ll see each other again soon and he knows they will.

They spend New Year’s Eve like any other night, except now they struggle to stay awake until midnight, while Wyatt’s sleeping soundly in his crib upstairs. And for Wyatt, New Year’s Day is like every other day and so he doesn’t care his parents were up way past their bedtime the night before, he would still like his bottle at six AM, thank you very much. 

The morning shift is his, like any other shift really, because it’s his way of paying his dues. He lets her dote on their little boy while he takes care of bottles, nappies, and laundry as much as he can. Wyatt seems to thrive, and as happy as a one-month old can be, and she’s very relaxed about everything as well which makes him feel like maybe they’ve got this.

They venture out into the cold a few days into the new year, Wyatt bundled up and tucked away in the baby carrier he’s put on under his jacket. The sun is watery in the sky, and the snow covered ground shows endless animal tracks, most of them from deer and squirrels�� but he also thinks he sees some larger prints that would indicate moose. When he asks her about it she tells him it’s just a single family, who have been here as long a she can remember. 

Day by day they get back into the swing of things, with her back in the kitchen more and more, and him doing whatever he can around the house. Wyatt is six weeks old and as happy as can be, which in turn makes them a little more relaxed too. And so one night, when they’re snuggled up on the couch, the three of them, Wyatt sleeping soundly in her arms, she rests her head on his shoulder, a content sigh escaping her, a quiet, “I love you,” following.

He kisses the top of her head, “I love you too.” 

She’s about to say something but then she’s interrupted by a buzzing sound coming from one of the kitchen drawers. He gets up immediately, cursing quietly, and she looks up at him, worried because she knows what this means.

He finds the old flip phone somewhere in the back of the cutlery drawer and answers it with a solemn, “Rogers.”

The voice he hears on the other end isn’t Tony’s but Bruce’s and immediately he’s on high alert. He listens to the other man trying to form a coherent story, but in the end Bruce just says, “We need Captain America, Steve. Things are bad.” 

He answers with a simple, “Ok.” and then ends the call. He turns towards her and shakes his head, “I need to go.” His other phone, the one Natasha gave him, beeps them, and he takes it out of his back pocket, opening the message app and quickly scanning what she wrote. Bruce was right, it is bad.

She joins him in the kitchen, Wyatt still undisturbed by the change in atmosphere although he is awake now, and looks up at him, “How long until you have to go?”

“Natasha and Sam are at the airport in an hour,” he replies, running a  hand through his hair. 

“With the Quinjet?”

He nods, “Yeah.”

“Oh God,” she whispers, hand in front of her mouth because she knows as well as he does that they would never use a civilian airport unless there was no time to lose. A sob escapes her then, but she clears her throat and he knows she’s trying her best to stay strong. “Ok,” she starts, “you have about ten minutes before you have to leave. What do you need?”

“More time,” he thinks, but instead he says, “Nothing. All my gear is still on the Quinjet.”

“When will you be back?”

She’s never asked this before, but he sees her looking at Wyatt and he understands. He wishes he could give her an answer, but instead he shrugs, “I don’t know.” He holds out his arms and pulls her in for a hug, “I’m really sorry, doll.” 

“It’s ok. The world needs you more right now, so you should go and save it, Captain,” she tries to smile even though he knows she’s just trying to put on a brave face. “We’ll be fine,” she nods, “I’ll be on the porch when you get back. Promise” 

The goodbye is hard, maybe the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, but he keeps telling himself that she’s strong enough for both of them. He tells his son that he’ll be back soon and to be kind to his mom, and he could have sworn Wyatt seems to understand. 

He’s at the airport with minutes to spare, the Quinjet already waiting for him, a solemn nod from both Natasha and Sam as a greeting. He suits up once they’re airborne, Natasha then explaining everything to him way better than Bruce ever could and it’s then he understand the gravity of the situation and wishes he would have taken her and Wyatt with him. 

“Don’t,” Natasha says, because of course she knows exactly what he’s thinking. “They are safe where they are.” Her hand is on his shoulder then, “I don’t know if she told you, but there’s a bunker, not far from the cabin. It has everything she needs to survive at least five months, if not more now that it’s just her and Wyatt.” 

He looks at Natasha, surprised, because no, she never told him this. 

“Smart girl,” Natasha comments before she explains, “The less people know about it, the better.”

“But we’re-”

“I know,” Natasha squeezes his shoulder, “but Nick pretty much made her swear on her life. Me too, by the way.” She nods towards Sam, “Sit down, get some rest. We’ve got this.”

They arrive in Edinburgh a couple of hours later and nothing is ever really the same after that. 

They’re on their way to Wakanda, Rhodey and Sam flying the aircraft, while Bruce and Vision talk about how to safely remove the soul stone. Wanda keeps trying to come up with other ways to make this work, but so far her attempts are futile. He finds himself seated next to Natasha, mentally preparing himself for what seems to be a war against Thanos when suddenly he remembers something.

“When a good man goes to war,” he whispers, the taste of the words sour in his mouth.

“Sorry?” Natasha says from somewhere on his right.

“When a good man goes to war,” he repeats, a little louder. “I read it somewhere, right before I left for Canada.” He looks at her, “Seems fitting, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, Steve,” she reaches out, her hand on his arm then, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Stephen Strange wrote that,”

“What?” 

“Yeah,” she nods, “there’s more to it though.” 

“Tell me,” he says, probably against better judgment, because she looks very hesitant.

“Not now,” she says and points towards the window. “We’re here.”

He watches as Sam expertly lands the Quinjet on the square in front of the palace, and then he and Natasha are the first to exit. He walks up to T’Challa, “Seems like I’m always thanking you for something.”

T’Challa simply shakes his hand and tells them to follow him, where he tells them, “You have my kings guard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje and,” 

“A semi-stable one-hundred year old man,” someone says from somewhere in front of him. 

He smiles, because he would recognize that voice anywhere, some of his worries a little less now that his best friend will fight alongside him. He can’t wait to tell Bucky about his wife and son but he never even gets the chance.

He’s lost all sense of time, not quite believing Natasha when she tells him the battle only lasted a couple of hours. Too much has happened. He’s lost Bucky. Again. Half the population’s gone. Thanos is God knows where doing God knows what with the Infinity Stones. It’s just too much and so he pushes all that to the back of his mind, determined to get back to that little cabin in Canada as soon as he can. He’ll deal with the aftermath once he’s home. 

Natasha wants him to get looked at first, maybe get some rest, but he just tells her she can either come with him or stay here in Wakanda, but that he is going. Now. She stays, tells him someone needs to keep what’s left of the team together and before all this he would have taken this as personal jab, but now he just tells her to be safe and to stay in touch.

He finds the Quinjet where Sam parked it just this morning and pushes the button necessary for it to start up the systems. Natasha catches up with him just as he’s about to prepare for take off, and she’s a little out of breath and he thinks he sees the hint of tears in her eyes, but this is Natasha, so it must be a trick of the light. 

“I think you need to hear the rest of what Strange wrote.”

“The poem?” He shakes his head, “I don’t think now’s the time,”

“It’s not so much a poem,” she admits. “It’s more a prophecy.”

“Natasha-”

She clears her throat, and he’s not sure if every other noise suddenly disappears or if that’s just his imagination, but he can hear her loud and clear when she recites,

“Demons run when a good man goes to war Night will fall and drown the sun When a good man goes to war

Friendship dies and true love lies Night will fall and the dark will rise When a good man goes to war

Demons run, but count the cost The battle is won, but the child is lost”

He flies the Quinjet back to the Red Lake Airport, pushing the aircraft to its absolute limits, trying to get there faster. The airport is empty, no one except the janitor who does what he always seems to do, quietly mopping the floors, but looking slightly more bewildered this time. He hurries past the man, who looks up expectantly like he’ll explain what has happened, but he doesn’t want to. Not now. Not ever.

His bike is waiting for him exactly where he left it, but then again he’s only been gone a little over two days. He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the images that keep flooding his mind, not wanting to think about everything that has happened since he left her and Wyatt, although the image of Bucky turning to dust is still fresh on his mind. He’ll have to deal with later. Or not at all. 

There’s something tugging on his heart all the way from the airport to the cabin and he’s sure he exceeds the speed limit enough to lose his licence, but he really doesn’t care. Not that there’s anyone else on the road, which, to be honest, isn’t that unusual here, but still, it feels different this time. He really wants to get home as quickly as possible, hold them, make sure they are alright, even though he knows something has happened. He feels it somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach. 

She’s not there on the porch like she promised she would be, and so he’s off of the bike and inside the cabin in a matter of seconds but she’s not there either. He checks upstairs, half expecting to find Wyatt alone in his crib, and not sure if he’s relieved when he doesn’t. He starts praying then, to a God he long stopped believing in, for them to be alright. He fishes out the piece of paper Natasha handed him, a quick drawing to show him where the bunker is located, and then he’s running. 

When he gets there he notices the door is slightly ajar and he hears something that he can only describe as grief coming from inside. He takes a moment to just breathe, in and out, trying to get himself under control, knowing he will have to be the strong one for a while. He pushes the door open slowly and his heart shatters into a tiny million pieces when he sees her sitting there on the bottom of the stairs, her head buried in her hands as she cries. And cries. And cries. 

He takes a tentative step towards her, reaching out to her, and her head snaps up and she looks absolutely lost. He rushes to her side and sits down beside her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. Her cries become wails then, her whole body shaking, and she doesn’t have to say anything, because he knows. His prayers turn to promises then, because someone will pay for this. 

He promises right there and then that he will do whatever it takes to avenge his son. 

[droughtofapathy]

Hadestown Song-By-Song:

Notes: Hadestown is still in previews so things are still changing even now. We won’t have a definitive show until opening night. Even from the first preview to the second there were still changes. But yeah, this show now owns every single dollar I have. Other Broadway shows? What’s that?  

Now buckle in, because this is long and I’m just going to give it to you.

Road To Hell I:

·       We open on this gorgeous set that’s something akin to an old French balcony café (it’s the green door and iron staircase that really does it) and 1920s speakeasy. The band is onstage and nearly every one of them are the same people from the NYTW days. They have fantastic costumes too. No basic black here.

·       The cast casually enters the stage and the applause was deafening both nights. There are five ensemble members and they are all so fucking ripped. Both women in the chorus can probably kill me and that’s totally okay.

·       Also, on the first preview night the opening applause lasted 40 fucking seconds. Yes, I timed it. It was amazing, Amber was tearing up, I was almost crying. What a great start. Then, after a long silence, the applause started up again for another fifteen seconds or so.

·       Such great opening trombone.

·       So there’s been a bunch of significant lyric changes to this song. Hermes now gives the characters, including the “hardest working chorus in the goddamn world”, an official introduction. And there was uproarious applause for every single person.

·       When Hermes calls the Fates old women they all simultaneously turn and give him the most attitude-laced look I’ve ever seen. Yes.

·       Side note: the Tony Awards needs to create a category for best ensemble because these people are fantastic.

·       Persephone has a wicker fan and bag and yeah I’m liking this costume more and more.

·       They changed Orpheus’s characterization. He’s much less suave and cool now, and definitely reads on the spectrum. It fits Reeve better, I think. Now Orpheus is a gentle, good-natured bumbling sweetheart who is said to be “a little touched.”

·       Eurydice is a firecracker. A jaded bitter little ball of attitude. Eva Noblezada is perfect.

Any Way the Wind Blows:

·       I love the original lyrics to this song because it felt like a fantastic prologue. But now it’s more story-centered, and I love it. Eurydice and the Fates (and the Fates have the most beautiful harmonies I’ve heard in a long time).

·       The Fates truly are the ones singing in the back of our minds. I love them. They could snap my life thread whenever they want.

·       This song establishes more of why Eurydice is so bitter and used to being alone. She’s been fucked over by the weather and by people so much that she’s just fed up.

·       Also, the Fates used to be three voice parts (I assume. I’m not an expert at all in this): soprano, mezzo, and alto. But now all three are much lower. I’d have to guess it’s a low mezzo, alto, and contralto because Jewelle Blackman’s voice transcends humanity. It is beautiful and impossible. Like, I know I advocate for Grace McLean as Hades one day, but like…Jewelle Blackman as Hades would be everything I’ve ever wanted.

·       Orpheus takes a piece of paper and makes it into a flower, and in the first preview there’s a long moment of silence, but in the second preview Hermes narrates over it so it’s not a big long awkward silence.

·       Also all the Fates are women of color in this production and I am in love.

Come Home With Me:

·       So Hermes warns Orpheus not to come on to strong, and what is the first thing this idiot boy asks? Come home with me. And it’s fucking hilarious. Especially since he immediately follows up with how he’s going to marry her. Like, boy, calm down.

·       Eurydice is decidedly unimpressed and borderline belligerent because she’s had enough of liars and players.

·       When Orpheus says how his song will make spring come again, the chorus says the same thing and has a fantastic harmony.

·       The plot now has Spring or Fall as something no one’s seen in a long time. It just goes from Winter to Summer because Hades keeps Persephone in the Underworld longer and longer.

·       When Eurydice asks “what else you got?” it’s not passive. She’s mocking and aggressive and I love it.

Wedding Song:

·       That mocking tone continues in her first verse in this song. She’s like, ‘you think you can change shit? Fucking prove it, bitch.’

·       And Orpheus is an awkward noodle who sounds so earnest. In the NYTW version (especially since these songs were cut on the recording, but bless bootlegs) I don’t think we see much of how Orpheus gets Eurydice to fall in love with him. Here her journey is so much more clear. She starts out so skeptical, and goads him into singing his song to impress her.

·       The La La La etc. part is now a huge motif. Orpheus sings this angelic medley and literally conjures up a red flower, and that’s how Eurydice starts to fall. She’s just in such awe that a voice could bring something to live.

·       Now they’re singing together and it’s really quite cute. Eurydice is totally on board with this romance now.

Epic I:

·       The La La La is a melody from long ago. And it comes back in a big way. Spoiler: it’s the song Hades sang to Persephone in the garden.

·       Big lyric changes here. The Epics all have gone through major revisions and I’m not sure how to feel. Like this Epic is fine because it’s still in the works, but later…well, I’ll get to it.

Livin’ It Up On Top:

·       We’ve now got an anticipation first verse about how everyone’s waiting on Persephone and Spring.

·       And Amber just prances down the staircase in a huge fur coat. What a voice. So know how NYTW Persephone is very distinguished? Now she’s a disaster goddess who literally sings about how she’s just “doin’ the best she can.” Which is great.

·       Mentions of Demeter. Yes.

·       She’s got two bottles of wine and a circular flask and is perpetually adorably tipsy while up on top.

·       Great dance break by the ensemble here. Brian Drye on the trombone comes to the center of the stage to play, and it’s a fantastic moment.

·       Orpheus’s toast is awkward and earnest. Which is his entire personality to be honest. But when he says “to the world we dream about and the one we live in now” it’s said without any music accompaniment and it’s such a sobering moment the audience murmurs. Also because the entire cast turns to the audience during that point.

All I’ve Ever Known:

·       Also Persephone, when she’s not singing, spends her time onstage almost constantly just draping herself on a step and watching the action. It’s a lot like what Hélène does in Great Comet, and Amber is so good at looking casually regal.

·       Eurydice has her love epiphany. They both sing, and it’s such a good song. Eva’s delivery is delightfully vulnerable.

·       We see the start of Orpheus’s insecurity about how Eurydice could ever love him, leading later to his paranoia as he exits the Underworld. It establishes more of his doubts because Hades preys on his very insecurities. And it’s some good characterization shit right there.

·       There’s a very suggestive sensual sex thing going on. And Eurydice is a TOP. We all knew it, but now we’re validated.

·       The wind’s never going to change? Think again bitch.

Way Down Hadestown:

·       The whistle sounds and the train comes and you can see the pure dread and horror on Persephone’s face.

·       And the Fates, these bitches, gleefully tell Persephone to pack and even help her get her suitcase. Persephone is not amused. What icons.

·       Okay, so Amber has this amazing choreography here. She’s bent completely in two, and it’s like she has no limbs with the way she fluidly moves. Her spine must be otherworldly. Amber Gray for the Tony.

·       Hermes now has a beaded umbrella and does some fantastic dancing with it. It’s huge. The exact extraness we need.

·       Persephone now sings the “chromium throne” and all those lyrics with such vehement disgust.

·       And here comes Hades. He has fucking those sunglasses. And his “I missed you” line is heavily laced with all of that.

·       When Eurydice sings about how she wonders how it feels to have everything, Hades stares right at her over his sunglasses.

·       When the floor drops down and Hades and Persephone descend into the underworld it is a beautiful and terrifying moment. For the first preview I sat in the mezzanine so I could look down into that pit and it’s great. Persephone looks near tears.

A Gathering Storm:

·       What a great little addition. It establishes how Hades keeps coming sooner and sooner for Persephone and how winter comes faster and fiercer with each passing year.

·       Now Eurydice snaps out of the honeymoon phase, and gets to work. You can see how she becomes more and more impatient with Orpheus as he works on a sing while they starve and freeze to death and doesn’t hear her when she calls at all. Eurydice deserves better, damnit.

·       The Fates are so ominous here.

Epic II

·       More Orpheus song workshop.

·       Okay, so. I think Reeve has come a long way since the bootlegs I’ve listened to. The change in characterization really does him a lot of favors. We see more of his struggle to find the right melody.

·       The Ensemble enters in their workers uniforms and it’s fantastic costuming. They’re all dressed the same regardless of gender. They have their leather overalls and tool belt, everyone’s head is wrapped, and everyone’s chest is bound. There is no gender down here. Everyone is the same and everyone is dead.

Chant:

·       The music turns so fucking ominous. Hades and Persephone are on the middle turntable that elevates while the ensemble chants and surrounds them. And she just stares at these dead souls with a mix of morbid horror and fascination.

·       She’s not fucking impressed with Hades and his desire.

·       Meanwhile, Orpheus is struggling to find his La La La melody.

·       The ensemble moves with perfect synchronization. And the lighting goes all orange and spooky.

·       We see more of Eurydice’s futile efforts to keep herself and Orpheus from starving. And clearly Orpheus doesn’t understand the dangers they’re in. He keeps singing, and Hermes even tries to get him to come back to reality because there’s a storm coming and Eurydice is alone, but he’s just stuck in his song.

·       The storm catches Eurydice. The Fates are the wind, and they gleefully tear her bag and coat from her and leave her with nothing. She calls to Orpheus with such terror but does he hear? Nope.

·       Persephone’s verse now has a nod to the turmoil above and how the earth is in chaos as the oceans rise and temperatures heat up.

·       She descends into the underworld alone, and it’s terrifyingly good how Amber can look that angry and scared and resigned all at once.

·       Also, when Hades sings his final “think if it as my embrace of you” Persephone is now gone, so he’s staring right at Eurydice. And it’s a moment of blocking genius.

Hey, Little Songbird:

·       This song highlights the wonders of Patrick Page’s voice perfectly. It’s basically the same song as NYTW because it was already perfection so why mess with it?

·       And after seeing the terrifying storm Eurydice has just been caught with, it’s so understandable why she’d see this promise of a better life enticing. Orpheus is off doing whatever he does. He hasn’t come to help, he hasn’t heard her scream. But Hades has. We see the conflict in Eurydice. She doesn’t want to leave the man she loves, but the vipers and vultures (the Fates! Looking deliciously diabolical) will kill her. And he has a ticket with her name on it.

When The Chips Are Down:

·       If ever it was possible to experience an auditory orgasm, it would be with these harmonies. Goddamnit this is a good song.

·       This would be a dream role if I had any talent, which I don’t.

·       And yeah, Hades was seductive and convincing, but the Fates are the ones who really get Eurydice to make her choice. Which, if these women wanted me to do anything and tried to convince me by singing like this? Yeah, I’d do it without question because I’m a weak lesbian and they’re so fucking good.

Gone, I’m Gone:

·       Eva sings deep at one point and it’s so good. And down into the underworld she goes.

·       Then the Fates come in and sing right to the audience basically saying ‘you can blame her all you want, but what happens if you’re in her shoes? Yeah, you’d do that too.’

·       The line about having principles when you have a bellyful is so damn poignant.

Wait For It:

·       Orpheus, this idiot, didn’t even know Eurydice was gone. So when Hermes breaks the news to him he’s devastated.

·       And okay. This whole scene is the most visually magnificent thing I’ve seen, possibly in my entire life. There has never been a moment when I’ve been so awestruck by a set change and lighting that my jaw has dropped.

·       So, Orpheus starts his long walk down. And the workers have headlights and are armed with those lights that hang from warehouse ceilings. And let me fucking tell you this whole thing is a theatrical masterpiece.

·       The Fates stand at the gates and ask who Orpheus thinks he is to do this. But he sings and (yeah, Reeve was fine here) but it’s supposed to be such a beautiful song that the ceiling lifts and the walls literally crack open to reveal the Underworld. And holy shit it’s gorgeous. This is the best set change I’ve ever seen.

·       The “ceiling” lifts to reveal the copper pipes and the ominous orange lighting and there’s smoke curling everywhere and holy shit it’s not something that can be described or captured in photo. You need to see this because Bradley King and Rachel Hauck deserve their Tonys right fucking now.

·       The ensemble has their lights and they attach them to cables that come down from the ceiling. They take the lights and in perfect synchronism they swing them like pendulums and they move perfectly like physics was made exactly for this moment. And the harmonies as they do this. Yes.

·       This scene is so visually gorgeous that there was a fucking forty-second round of applause that shattered the house. Oh my god. Just wow.

Why We Build The Wall:

·       Hades is center stage. When the company sings about why they build the wall, it’s sang with such vehement belief in it that it’s terrifying because they’ve _all _been brainwashed by this man to believe it. Even Persephone sings the response with a hopeless sort of defeat. She doesn’t believe a word of this shit but what can she do?

·       What a politically appropriate song. And yes, Anais Mitchell wrote this

·       Eurydice enters. And suddenly there’s this world that promises her freedom and security. As they sing the final line, everyone has their finger up in some sort of salute that really just turns your stomach, and Eurydice sees it and joins in. Only Persephone, though she sings the words, does not make the sign. Everyone looks so proud and gleeful in their freedom but she’s horrified.

·       Then Hades ascends the staircase to his office and Eurydice follows. And Persephone knows what is going to happen but she’s helpless to do anything. And goddamnit the music is ominous.

·       We’re left on such a heavy note, but then Persephone turns to us and asks us the real question: anybody wanna drink? And yeah. We fucking need a drink after that.

·       Also I should mention, Persephone is now in her black costume which is identical to her other green dress in every detail save for the color. Her hair is now tucked up into a snood, and the flowers are now black.

Act II:

 Our Lady of the Underground:

·       Intermission just sort of fades out. The band reenters the stage and starts playing as the audience scrambles back into their seats. And it’s such a great song to open up an act.

·       Persephone mocks her husband “step into my office” and she’s like two sips from drunk off her ass.

·       It’s just her, the band, and Hermes on stage. This is just a song about getting blind drunk to forget the horrors of the world. She’s got her little flask and is chucking that shit all damn day.

·       Side note: when she sings about having the wind right here in a jar she grabs her boob and jiggles it and it’s everything the gays want. Then she while she’s dancing up a storm she decides the best way to hold onto her flask is to tuck it in her bra and she gives the audience this playful coy look when she does it.

·       The moment she sings about seeing the sky it’s so sobering and she’s on the edge of being devastated again, but then comes the crack in the wall and the alcohol and it’s all okay again.

·       And yes, they kept the band introduction and I’m living for it. Everyone is the same from the NYTW days except we lost Jenny Shineman and gained Dana Lyn. But I’m so glad an orchestra is getting their fucking recognition. Deafening applause for everyone of them each night. It’s them who sings the “our lady of the underground” parts.

·       They’ve changed “one at a time boys…” to “tell my husband to take his time” and it’s sung in a way where Persephone is trying to make light of her husband’s infidelity by pretending she’s okay with having this time to fuck around, but like she’s still afraid for the poor soul he’s with.

Way Down Hadestown II:

·       Eurydice enters now dressed like every other worker. And the Fates order her onto the line. Gone is the enticing promise, and now they give a fuck about any illusion.

·       Side note: in the program this and every other song that was once II is now (reprise) and I do not care for that shit at all.

·       She joins the line and starts doing the workers’ movements. But now there’s a thing about how none of the workers will look her in the eye, and she’s a little terrified because they’re all just mindlessly working themselves to death.

·       The Fates gladly inform her how she’s fucked herself over. The lyrics are now: “but why won’t they look at me? It’s like their eyes don’t see.” instead of “there must be some mistake…” and the Fates answer: “they don’t//it’s easier that way//and your eyes will look like that someday.” It’s a scary moment. That Eurydice, so full of vinegar and life, will become a dried husk.

·       She tries to leave, but we visually see how the life begins to drain from her. We see her begin to die.

Flowers:

·       This song is heartbreaking. Eva sings it so wonderfully.

·       When she sings how she opens her mouth and nothing comes out it’s sung with such despair and terror. And the regret when she sings about how she turned away into the shade.

·       She lies down and who should pop up? Orpheus.

Come Home with Me II:

·       In the second preview he enters from the audience aisle. He’s all battered from his long long walk.

·       So, lyrics: Eurydice says “I called your name” Orpheus: “I know” Eurydice: “you heard?” Orpheus: “no…” And what a good addition.

·       This is where the tightening of the show really happens. Orpheus says how he’s going to sing them home again, but there’s no back and forth callback to Come Home With Me I. Instead, Eurydice tells him in a anguished voice that no, he can’t. And he doesn’t get it. And then Hades enters.

Papers:

·       What a guy.

·       Persephone tries to step in but Hades isn’t having it.

·       In a moment of confidence, Orpheus tries to argue, and Eurydice can’t bring herself to tell him what she’s done. How she’s signed her name.

·       And it’s a whole thing. Where he asks if it’s true, but oops. It’s fucking true. And this is where Eurydice says “I did…I do.” Which takes out the double marriage acceptance//signed life away meaning, but still. Okay.

·       Fight scene is so well-choreographed. Reeve is just tossed around like a hackey sack and the ensemble beats his ass. In the first preview he has a visibly bloody lip that stays for most of the show, but in the second preview it’s toned down and I think it was the right move because it looked pretty ridiculous throughout the whole emotional bits.

Nothing Changes:

·       The fighting freezes and the Fates come in to offer their message of ‘give the fuck up cause you ain’t shit’ and wow they just roast this boy. What an ultimate defeatist song.

If It’s True:

·       Orpheus starts out echoing the Fates and their defeatism, but then…

·       Just before he turns to go…the walls have ears. It’s the workers who hear his song in this production. And suddenly their perfect synchronization is broken as they start to wake up and it’s beautiful. It’s their spark of something that gets Orpheus to stop in his tracks.

·       “Brother who are they to say?...Cause the ones who tell the lies…” His entire mood and tune changes. This is a rebellion in the making. Suddenly he turns and asks Hades how the fuck he is to tell the many what is true. It could have been more powerful, I think. And it was better in the second preview.

How Long?:

·       So things were changed in this song. Persephone is now much more angry and accusatory. They took out the lines about ‘looking at other girls now and then’ and instead it’s Persephone getting fucking pissed off and saying how Orpheus and Eurydice have the love they once did.

·       And Hades at one point tells her to basically calm down and have a drink, which is not the fucking right thing to say my man. She responds by saying she’s “had enough” which is an incredible character development moment because thus far we’ve seen her fucking wasted, but she’s also saying how she’s had enough of everything that’s been going on.

·       So when Amber sings “Hades my light” she does the exact same movement she does in Great Comet’s Charming when she sings “oh, how she blushes…” You know, that thing where she bends her knees and extends her arms in presentation. And that is some good shit.

·       The song is now less about an old couple trying to reminisce and shit and now about Persephone being fucking done. There’s some good back and forth here. They’re standing opposite on the stage, with the pit between them and a bit of smoke and it’s great blocking.

·       The question is how long they can stay married like this. And the answer is: not very.”

Chant II:

·       So the platform rises back up and the ensemble workers are surrounding Orpheus asking is it true? They’re no longer mechanically working. There’s a spark of life again, and Hades is not having this.

·       So when Patrick Page says “It’s the boy!” he does a great delivery but it kind of sounds a bit Disney villain to me, I don’t know.

·       There’s a steam whistle on stage and I want one.

·       Now the workers are working, but there’s something different. A recognition of what they’ve become.

·       The verses in this song have gone through some big changes. I’d recommend listening instead of me trying to relay.

·       But what there is in this song is some fantastic usage of turn tables spinning in different directions. Hades and Persephone stand completely opposite, and as they walk in different directions of the tables they’re stationary. But then there are moments when the pause and are whisked around. And always opposite. Then Persephone sings to Eurydice and they’re opposite because she hops onto the middle turntable and it’s some amazing choreography and blocking here.

·       The part in this song marks the first time the chorus sings as individuals. Some of them get solo lines that are echoes of Orpheus and Eurydice “If I raise my head…if I change my voice…” and it’s a sign of them waking up and remembering themselves as individuals. Now they’re out of sync, and they fucking start to question everything. They question the wall and why they can’t even look at each other if they’re supposedly free.

·       Persephone is really fucking at her breaking point in this relationship.

·       I like the additions of the workers verses because holy shit that’s fucking great. I’m not sure about Hades and Persephone’s verse changes yet. And they’re still being developed I think, because there are some very subtle differences from first preview to second.

·       But yeah, the Electric City line is still a jaw-dropping moment. When he sings it, to prove it, the lights all blow out. And it’s great.

·       Hermes hands Hades a stool that he dramatically slams down and sits on as he demands Orpheus sing for him,

Epic III:

·       Alright, so this is why I’m not sure the lyric changes work. The first preview night, Reeve’s singing didn’t convince me that it would be able to evoke such a viscerally emotional response out of stoic Hades. It was just eh. For the second preview, I don’t know if it was the developed lyrics, or if Reeve just stepped it up and did a better job, but I was more open to believing he could convince the king of the underworld.

·       Also, side note: when Orpheus sings his opening line about “Hades is king of the underworld” Hades chuckles and says “oh, it’s about me” and almost preens and both nights the audience can’t handle it and erupts in two rounds of raucous laughter. It’s such comedy gold.

·       When Orpheus sings the la la la melody, Hades is ready to kill him right there, but Persephone is not having it.

·       The La La La is fully established as the Song Hades Sung to Persephone and suddenly everyone, the chorus, the Fates, Persephone they’re all echoing this symbol of Hades’ forgotten love. And wow. Vocally stunning.

·       Here is where Orpheus makes Hades realize that Persephone is one step away from leaving him entirely. And he’ll lose her if he keeps this shit up.

·       And Hades tentatively sings is melody, and Persephone is so damn happy about it. She gives him this just soft wistful look and it’s so cute. And and when Hades sings he conjures up a fucking red carnation and what a fucking moment.

·       There’s some really adorable dancing between Hades and Persephone to some ethereal orchestration. And they end up embracing and staying like that for a long ass time. Like throughout Promises.

·       And yeah, Orpheus breaks the tranquil moment by being a clueless idiot who asks Eurydice what he does now.

Promises:

·       They moved Promises up and changed it up so now it’s less the two lovers being scornful about how they haven’t kept their promises and more about how they don’t give a fuck about promises as long as they have each other and a few basic needs.

·       They don’t need fair skies, or kind roads. They just need each other.

·       And god fucking damnit. Goddamnit. It’s so fucking hopeful, and Eurydice even says the workers can make the journey too, that everyone is filled with anticipation and just for one fucking second you believe that maybe it’ll be alright. Maybe, just fucking maybe, everyone will be okay. And you know it can’t end like that, but damnit if it doesn’t make you believe it.

·       But then Orpheus asks if they can go, and Hades says “I don’t know.” And let me tell you, I’ve never seen a woman pull away from a man with such horror and disgust on her face in my life than Persephone in that moment. She practically staggers across the whole stage to get away fast enough.

Word to the Wise:

·       And then the Fates come swooping in to offer their two cents. What icons. What a song. Hell fucking yes. What taunting bitches. They’re the real orchestrators of these events, literally.

·       And such good voices all converging to bring us a masterpiece we’re unworthy of.

·       Question: can the tony award go to all three women? Is that a thing?

His Kiss, the Riot:

·       Now Hades has to make a choice. He’s got to do something to keep his wife from never acknowledging his presence again, and he’s got to keep his reputation.

·       How does someone sing this deeply? How is this possible?

·       He has his little epiphany and shares it with his pal Hermes.

Wait For Me:

·       When Hermes relays the news that they can go, everyone is given this little jolt of hope before he rips it away as he lays out the terms.

·       And here is where Orpheus is convinced it’s a trap, even though Hermes tells him it’s a trial, not a trick. So they start.

·       What a great arrangement of a song. The workers chorus sound so hopeful, so excited to be shown the way the world can be. “If you can do it so can she, if she can do it so can we.”

·       And yes, Hades and Persephone will try again next fall. They’ll wait for each other.

·       It’s such a triumphant moment, but then the Fates come in and start asking Orpheus who he thinks he is to be able to lead anyone out of anything.

·       The turntables are going, and Eurydice is right behind him singing joyously to “wait for me.” It just sounds so beautiful and lifts us up like yes, they can fucking do this. They can do it.

Doubt Comes In:

·       But then it grows dark and terrifying, and Eurydice slips out of view. And who should be two steps behind Orpheus? Our favorite Fates.

·       These bitches come out of the smoke and darkness with their lanterns and they’re circling and slipping into shadows and turning their lights on and off and whispering into Orpheus’s ear. What diabolical voices. Where is she? They ask and taunt and Orpheus’s La La La melody fades out as he’s overcome with doubt.

·       But Eurydice is right fucking there. She’s right fucking there singing about the coldest night. Offering her encouragement even though he can’t hear her. He can’t hear her and that’s why they’re in this fucking mess.

·       And yes, it’s a valid paranoia, but come on. Just keep going. Just keep walking, damnit.

·       The workers are there too, and they’re all ready to go.

·       And as Eurydice sings her last verse, where she sounds so joyous to finally be able to see the sun, Orpheus stumbles up the last few steps to the beacon of light.

·       And he fucking turns around. He fucking turns around and the entire audience knows it’s coming because they warned us, but damnit if we don’t all gasp anyway.

·       “Orpheus.” “It’s you.” “It’s me” and she says it with such anguish and heartbreak, like yes, ‘it’s me I’m right here, we were right there, we almost made it. All of us,” and then he reaches for her, but she’s on the turntable that drops, and she’s dragged back down to the underworld. And everyone is in tears because they were so fucking close.

Road To Hell II:

·       The opening song starts up again, but so much sadder. As if the joy has gone from the world, but it’s time to start up again.

·       Such devastation. Such anguish. But we sing it again.

·       The lyric changes emphasis how this is very much a circular story that will continue to go around and around forever. We are right back where we started, but we know how it ends. That is how it ends.

·       “It’s a sad song. It’s a sad tale. It’s a tragedy. It’s a sad song. But we sing it anyway. Cause here’s the thing. To know how it ends and still to begin to sing it again as if it might turn out this time. I learned that from a friend of mine. See Orpheus was a poor boy…”

·       And right then Eurydice reenters asking for a match just like she did in the beginning of the show. Full circle.

·       “Oh a sunny day there was a railroad car.” And the turntable rises once more with Persephone in her green dress reclining on the speakeasy tables. Spring is back. Again.

·       The lyrics focus more on the old song and how they sing it again and again, and the echoing harmonies are so good.

·       They cut out “it’s a tale of a love that never dies…it’s a love song about someone who tries” and instead repeat the again and again.

Bows:

·       Standing ovations, deafening applause and cheering. What a fucking great show.

I Raise My Cup:

·       The program says nothing about this song, but it’s still fucking here bitches.

·       I was skeptical about having it after bows, but not a single person even attempted to leave. The music started, and we all instantly shut up to see what beautiful thing would happen next.

·       Everyone has their cup, and Orpheus starts strumming his guitar (which by the way looks a bit too shiny and new to be in character, but sure). Amber does the bulk of the singing, but Eva joins in and the chorus harmonizes and it’s good.

·        

Final notes: This is basically just me talking Tonys and I’m not an expert on anything so don’t take what I say too seriously because I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about.

·       I’m excited to see the final product. Will definitely be going again, and again, and again.

·       What a stellar cast. And yeah, I was hesitant about Reeve Carney, but he was fine. Wasn’t exactly blown away, but it’s adequate. He did well, and I saw major improvement from one night to the next to the next so hopefully it’ll just keep getting better and better.

·       I’m living for Eva’s Eurydice characterization. The embodiment of “looks like a cinnamon roll but could kill you.”

·       Amber Gray needs a Tony right fucking now.

·       I’ve seen a number of the new shows this Broadway season and if this doesn’t win what it deserves to win I will riot.

·       Okay, I really enjoyed The Prom. It was a fun, heartwarming, touching show. Especially since I’m a lesbian who grew up in a small town and is now in her twenties and has since gotten out of that. I loved it, and I believe it really deserves recognition and I want it to get it…But Hadestown is just better. It has a stronger book, score, and overall presentation.

·       I saw The Cher Show, and it’s a great production of a jukebox/biography musical. I thought Stephanie J. Block did a phenomenal job. I’m sure this show is likely in the top running for costumes purely because they’re so flashy and hell, Cher’s actual designer did them. But I kind of want a more nuanced designer to win than just whoever has the most zazz.

·       I know Be More Chill is really relatable for the young people out there, and I think that’s great we’re getting a bigger audience demographic than just old white people (which is mostly what the theater is filled with regardless, however) but I’m not convinced it can come even close in terms of Best Book. And DEH aside (I’m still fucking bitter about that show winning over Great Comet or even Come From Away, and I’ll never not be) we’ve seen musicals geared towards that generation with that sort of message not get awards, which is probably not right. Legally Blonde didn’t win because it was too “pink” and “pink” musicals don’t win. And in this case Be More Chill should not win over a better show.

·       And it’s kind of down to just a few musicals realistically to win Best Musical. A lot of shows that opened this year are either for only limited runs (look if Oklahoma or Kiss Me Kate do really well, they might extend them, but if they’re just doing alright it wouldn’t be profitable to give it more awards than necessary. It’s strange how the revivals aren’t open runs) or are already closed. Head Over Heels was a fun riot of a time, but since it’s closed (like Torch Song, Choir Boy, Getting’ the Band Back Together) it wouldn’t be profitable to give them anything.

·       Pretty Women and King Kong aren’t doing so hot either. And we have to wait on Tootsie and Beetlejuice, but I can’t see any of them winning big.

·       I’m interested to know what the American Theater Wing rules on Acting eligibility here. The rule is that if the name is below the title, they’re a featured actor, but if it’s above they’re leading. That’s why Yul Brenner didn’t get a best leading actor Tony in The King and I. The rules are a little bit more flexible these days, I think. And I know for the Prom, at least, even though some of them aren’t above the title, they’re still considered leads, but who knows?

·       And like, who constitutes a definitive lead in this show? Eva probably does, but for Reeve it’s a little different. See he’s not exactly given any more or less stage time than, say, Hermes who is with us for the whole show but might somehow be more of a Featured Actor role. The five principle characters are all pretty solid leads (maybe Persephone a little less so but she’s still very much leading) so who knows? Not me. I have no understanding of how this works.

·       Bottom Line: Give Amber Gray, Rachel Chavkin, and Anais Mitchell their fucking Tonys. If Rachel Chavkin doesn’t get the recognition she deserves I’ll riot.

·       Bradley King for Lighting and Rachel Hauck for Scenic should be shoo-ins. Nothing I have seen this season will ever be this fantastic.

Edit: Alright, who wants an audio bootleg?

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

This is my first attempt at fiction, so posting nervously... thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta.

Trying to start on a new relationship isn’t easy, specially when you’re dealing with the baggage for previous ones. You might look for simple, but there’s always complications. It’s how you handle them that counts

Chapter 1: A Summer Wedding

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. -Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

Now, whilst not exactly in possession of ‘a good fortune,’ Jamie Fraser certainly had reached (at the age of thirty two) a point in his life where he was what people refer to as comfortable - good job as Chief Financial Officer in the family’s long established distillery business, his own home in a smart but not too elite suburb of Glasgow, new car every three years, with enough spare cash to enjoy both summer sun and winter skiing holidays.

Not that he was complacent.  He worked hard and enjoyed the benefits. It was just… not as satisfying as it once had been.

******

Jamie woke at his usual time, even though it was Saturday morning and a three day bank holiday weekend stretched out in front of him. He showered quickly, wrapped the towel neatly round his torso and made his way to the kitchen, picking up the newspaper from the front door en route.

Armed with a cafetière of strong coffee, orange juice, a pen and his newspaper, Jamie made his way into the conservatory that looked onto his back garden. Already, at 8 am, the sunshine streamed into the room, a promising start for Rupert and Fiona’s wedding day. He sank down into his favourite chair, old and well-worn, sipped his coffee and turned to the crossword, enjoying a few minutes of peace and quiet before the frantic activities of the day.

The clatter of the letterbox disturbed the contemplation of 13 across (River, run - 4 letters). Depositing his coffee cup in the dishwasher, Jamie picked up the post, quickly sorting through the pile- broadband deals and ‘epic’ coach holidays straight into recycling, brown envelopes set aside for perusal later and one thick, cream envelope opened immediately.

Mr. and Mrs. Robert Duthie request the pleasure of your company at the wedding of their daughter Kirsty Ann to Mr. Angus Mackenzie...

Another raucous stag weekend beforehand no doubt. Jamie chuckled, thinking of the five (five, really?!) weddings he had been to in the last eighteen months. With most of his close friends settled, that left, well, him in the minority, unattached, unhindered, not tied down, fancy free, uninvolved… on his own. Realistically, Jamie knew he could ‘get a girlfriend,’ that wasn’t the problem. Wanting to keep said girlfriend, now that tended to be the issue.

But I’m no thinking on that today, he told himself. Jes’ focus on the job at hand and get a move on afore Jenny starts mitherin’ to see where I am.  

And with that, he headed upstairs, mentally preparing for the duties expected of him that afternoon.

******

From his vantage point at the front of the church, Jamie had a good view of the wedding guests.  All the usual suspects of course, his friends scrubbed up nicely, all wearing their dress kilts, their wives and girlfriends sporting a complicated array of hats and, what did Jenny call the wee, poofy ones? Aye, fascinators that was it. The only fascinating thing about them, Jamie mused, was why the hell anyone would want to wear some of them in the first place.

Jamie turned his attention to Rupert, who was standing next to him. The pale green of Rupert’s face matched nicely with the floral arrangements strewn around the church.  Jamie noticed he was sweating profusely.

“Dinna fash,” he said, trying to be comforting. “Ye ken she’ll turn up. ‘S’all part of the ritual, turning up late.”

Rupert gave a hesitant grin. “Aye, but what if she changed her mind? What if she’s driving ‘round now thinking of the quickest way tae the airport? I dinna ken…”

Jamie interrupted. “Now why would she do that? She kens exactly what she’s getting into. Remember she was the one who cleaned you up after the projectile vomiting incident of 2016. She kens not tae talk tae ye fer twelve hours after a Scottish rugby defeat, she puts up wi’ yer snorin’ and fartin’ in bed, and she knows when ye say ye’re off tae the gym, you’re really headin’ out fer coffee and doughnuts. Nah, she’ll be here.”

Rupert smiled. “Aye, reckon ye’re right. I got meself a good one. I canna tell ye what she means tae me. What would I do wi’out her?”

And as the organ started up the opening bars of Trumpet Voluntary, Jamie watched Rupert discretely wipe his eyes and move to take his place at the altar.

******

Several hours and several whiskies later, Jamie felt himself start to relax. The reception was now in full swing, the hotel function room full of wedding guests becoming noisier as the alcohol flowed. In the corner he could see the DJ setting up for the evening disco. He wandered from group to group, accepting praise for his best man speech.

“Och, I never kent it was Rupert who painted the neighbours’ dog that time...”

“Weel, now I know how he got that crescent scar on his hand...”

“Good job, Jamie. I guess it must be yer turn soon. Are you no’ courting jes’ now?”

Jamie smiled and shook his head, politely extricating himself from the group of Rupert’s elderly relatives. He started to cross to his sister Jenny who was sitting, no doubt with her shoes already off, a bowl of trifle balanced on her seven month pregnant belly. Beside her, wee Jamie, red faced and sweating, gulped at his lemonade. Jamie’s heart swelled with pride at the sight of his wee nephew and namesake. He thought that…

“Hello there. Good to see you. Nice speech you did there”

Jamie turned slightly to the woman who had just spoken. “Geneva! How are ye doin’? Enjoyin’ yerself? Ye’re looking well.”  

Not just idle pleasantries, Jamie thought she was looking well, not to say glamorous.  Geneva had always managed to maintain a well-groomed air, her sleek black hair never out of place, even when throwing the television remote control at his head, never breaking into a sweat even as she paced frantically round his living room listing some of his many apparent shortcomings.

“Yes, well, it’s nice to have something to dress up for. And you, you’re looking, er, well too. That kilt always suited you.” Her hand brushed the tartan fabric, so lightly that Jamie wasn’t sure whether he had imagined it.

“Aye, thanks. So, er, well…so, how long has it been since I’ve seen ye?”

“Seven months,” Geneva replied, not missing a beat. “Seven months since you, er, that is, we broke up.”

Jamie felt his ears start to flush at the memory.  “Geneva, I…”

“No, it’s fine. For the best. We did have some good times though. Remember that huge slide at the water park?”

“Oh aye,” Jamie grinned at the memory. “That was such a good day. Apart from the wee bit of nausea on…”

“...The lazy river ride,” Geneva laughed.

“Well…” Jamie hesitated as he felt a sharp tug on the sleeve of his jacket. He looked down to see his nephew smiling up at him.  

“Unca,” his nephew began, still pulling at his sleeve. “Unca, I need pee, now.”

Jamie shrugged apologetically at Geneva. “Can yer Da not take ye?”

“Nah, Unca, Mam says ye do it. Do it now!”

Wee Jamie’s hand snaked into his uncle’s large hand as he forcibly pulled Jamie out of the function room and into the hallway beyond.  

As soon as Jamie was through the door, another hand tightly grabbed his elbow and pulled him into the wooden panelling. For all that she was tiny and seven months pregnant, Jamie knew that Jenny was a veritable force of nature, and from the look on her face, she was gearing up to give him a piece of her mind.  

Her face softened briefly as she looked down at Wee Jamie, still holding his uncle’s hand.  “Thank ye, mo bhailach beag, now go tae yer Da. He’s right over there. And walk, don’t run.”  She called after her over excited son.

“I dare say Wee Jamie will be keeping ye up tonight. He’s that excited…” Jamie started.

Jenny stared at him. “And what do ye think ye were doin’ in there? Just now?”

“In celebrity circles, do they no’ call it ‘working the room’?” Jamie tried, but Jenny was not in the mood for levity.

“You ken fine well what I mean, bràthair. I have eyes, I could see ye laughin’ and jokin’ with Geneva. And she lookin’ at ye like ye were a tall glass of water in the desert. Ye’re a catch and she means to reel ye in again.”

Jamie shook his head. “Nah, ’twas just being friendly. We’ve no’ seen each other fer seven months, since we broke up.”

“And remember, there was a reason YOU broke up with her,” said Jenny, jabbing her finger into his chest. “What was it ye told me, about the clinginess, the snobbishness, the, and I quote ye, the inane drivel that comes out of her mouth?”

“Perhaps I was a bit harsh in my opinions, Jenny, she’s no’ a bad lass really.”

“Aye, and a crocodile’s no’ a mean spirited killing machine, either. I warn ye, Jamie Fraser, dinna go down that road again. Remember ye had reasons to break it off with Geneva.”

“But did I?” Jamie looked directly at Jenny. “Did I really? Or did I no’ give it a chance?  Did I just run when the first little thing pissed me off? Is that what I do? Was she just frustrated with me, no’ trying to make it work?” Jamie sighed. “Jenny, look around, look at all our friends, look at ye and Ian. Ye’re all complete. Ye’ve all found yer other halves. And I havena … Or what if I have, and I just havena recognised it.”

Jenny reached up to stroke Jamie’s cheek gently. “Believe me, ye’d recognise it.” she said softly. “It’s out there fer ye. Ye just need tae find it.”

Jamie sniffed and kissed his sister’s cheek. “And on that note, I think it’s time fer a piss, meself”.

**************

Claire Beauchamp certainly appreciated the sentiment behind the birthday gift from her closest friend, Geillis - a relaxing night away at a hotel and spa, leisurely dinner, couple of drinks in the hotel bar followed by a day of pampering treatments seemed ideal. Claire had, as usual, been working far too hard at the hospital and, in Geillis’s opinion, Claire’s ‘me-time’ was in seriously short supply.

On paper, the hotel looked great. The spa facilities were excellent and Claire could not remember the last time she had tasted such wonderful food. Now, sitting in a leather chair in the traditionally styled hotel bar with Geillis, sampling some of the hotel’s wide range of whiskies, the downside was clearly apparent - the wedding that the hotel was hosting.

The plan had been to spend the evening in the bar, watching the flames in the huge stone fireplace, the only noises a calming murmur of voices and the tinkle of drinks being poured.  The reality was that the overspill from the nuptial celebrations resulted in numerous male guests taking root at the bar recounting, in loud voices, tales of rugby hangovers from hell, Calcutta Cup matches through the ages or the questionable songs wedding DJs seem to play (“C’mon, man, gi’e us a wee bit of Dexy’s Midnight Runners, no this disco shite!”).

Geillis touched Claire’s arm to attract her attention.

“Claire, ye have tae admit, there is something about a man in a kilt. Is that no’ one of yer reasons for staying up here even when Frank moved back tae England?” She nodded her head in the direction of the group of kilted men propping the bar up and laughed. “And what better reason could there be? Best way tae get over a man is tae get under a new one, ye ken.”

Claire looked around the bar and laughed. “Well, G, about the kilt situation, I’m not convinced in all cases, but…” Through the door into the foyer, her eye was caught by the rather striking rear view of a tall, broad, red haired Viking stooping down to kiss the cheek of a petite brunette “...there are certain attractions to it, I dare say. About the Frank situation, I’m over him, just not sure I’m ready for a new relationship yet.”

“Who mentioned a relationship?” Geillis winked. “No’ me…just a wee bit o’ fun. And speakin’ o’ fun, I’ll be getting us two more whiskies, then.” Geillis rose and headed for the bar, firmly wedging herself between two of the burliest men there.  

Claire smiled and shook her head at her friend. She looked back to where that Viking had been standing but he was gone.

For the rest of their time in the bar, Claire kept a surreptitious look out for ‘her’ Viking . She chose not to mention it to Geillis - much as she loved her, Geillis would have boldly dragged Claire straight into the wedding party making her walk past every guest until she found him.  Geillis had many endearing qualities, but discretion was not one of them.

**************

It was reaching that time of the night. The more elderly guests and the children had already retired to their beds (Wee Jamie included, protesting loudly all the way), and the alcohol imbibed by the remaining guests ensured that everything was lit by that rosy glow of sentimentality. Rupert and his bride stood together in the middle of the dance floor, swaying gently to the music.

“And now,” the DJ’s muffled announcement came through the speakers. “all you lovers out there, it’s time for the last song, so come and join Rupert and Fiona on the dance floor with ‘I Will Always Love You.’”

As the opening bars of the Whitney Houston rendition sounded, Jamie became aware of Geneva approaching. She held out her hand to him. “Come on Jamie, for old time’s sake, yes?”

Jamie took her hand and together they walked to the dance floor. As they started moving in time to the music, Jamie could feel Geneva’s hands on his shoulders, her fingers lightly stroking his neck, her chest pressed tightly against him, her hair tickling his nose as he breathed. God, she smelt lovely. He closed his eyes and thought about his conversation with Jenny. Perhaps he had been a wee bit hasty seven months ago… perhaps he needed to put more work into a relationship… perhaps he should try again with Geneva. He wrapped his arms around her, his hands resting at the base of her spine, pulling her closer still.

The music died away and the harsh overhead lights switched on, abruptly ending the cosy intimacy of the wedding party. Laughing and shouting (dubious) words of encouragement, everyone followed Rupert and Fiona out to the grand staircase, sending them on their way to the bridal suite.

**************

Claire heard the whoops and shouts from inside the now peaceful bar.  Once they had died down, she stood up. “I think that's our cue for bed, need to get our money’s worth in the spa tomorrow.”

Together, Claire and Geillis headed up the grand staircase to their rooms.

**************

Geneva stood in front of Jamie in the foyer. Tentatively, she took a step towards him tilted her head up to his, lightly running her tongue over her lips. “I guess you’re staying here tonight, aren’t you?”

Jamie nodded.

“I wasn’t planning to,” she continued. “But I could be persuaded…”

“Best not, lass. We’ve both had too much tae drink tae be making wise choices. I still have yer mobile number.  I’ll give ye a call.”

Wrinkling her nose up in mock annoyance, Geneva pulled his head down to hers. Jamie closed his eyes as Geneva pressed her lips to his, her tongue gently sliding into his mouth.  As she lengthened the kiss, moaning slightly, Jamie opened one eye.

Over Geneva’s shoulder he caught a glimpse of a woman ascending the stairs. Wild brown curls cascaded over her shoulders and onto her back. Her long, shapely legs, clad in blue jeans, looked amazing and the way her hips rolled with each step seemed to ignite a spark within him. He broke away from the kiss as the vision disappeared from view.

[masterweaverx]

The Familial Blooper Reel

"Ladies and gentlemen," Yang proclaimed with a smile, "we have arrived in Argus."

"Argus!" Ruby gasped.

"Argus!" Weiss cried.

"Argus!" Blake exclaimed.

"It's only a model," Maria grumbled.

"Hush," Oscar admonished.

Qrow chuckled. "On second thought, let's not go to Argus. Tis a very silly place."

Yang rolled her eyes as the entire group burst into laughter. "Yeah, yeah, classic sketch. Come on, we need a serious take, guys, I've had my butt on this bike all day!"

Oscar looked down at his script. "So, in this scene, you glomp me."

"Yep!" said Nora brightly. "It'll be fun!"

"...can I get a stunt double?"

"Oh come on, I'm not that bad!"

Various hums of consideration came from around them.

"I'm not!" Nora protested. "Really, I'm not--" She looked around for any sign of support.

"We can't get you a stunt double right now," the director said, "but we can get you a bluemat and up your hazard pay."

"Alright, I can live with that."

Nora threw up her hands. "I AM NOT THAT BAD!"

"We should probably start looking for a ship," Blake mused, not catching the uncomfortable look Nora and Ren shared.

"Start looking?" Yang laughed. "Okay, so we've got Whiterose, Ladybug, Enabler, Monochrome, Freezerburn, Bumblebee, Nora's Arc, Martial Arcs, Boop, Lancastor, Sugar Rush, Crimson Lotus, White Knight, Nordic Winter, White Lotus, Dark Knight, Thundercats, Ninjas of Love, Dragon Slayer, Pink Lemonade, Sunflowyr--"

Ruby sighed as Yang inhaled deeply. "No no," she said, holding a hand out to Maria, "let her get it out of her system."

"--Rose Garden, Snow Pines, Deadly Nightshade, Summer Sun Harvest, Compost King, Valhalla, Lotus Garden, Moonshine, Twin Reaper, White Russian, Nightcap, Phoenix, Jaundice, Hammered, Paper Cranes, and that's just with the people here who were in prior seasons taking two to a ship!" Yang finished with a grin.

"Cute," Blake said with a flat look. "Let me rephrase. We should probably start looking for a vessel capable of taking us across the sea."

"And stop looking at the stupid fan memes," Weiss added.

"But the stupid fan memes are the best part!" Yang whined, still grinning.

Adrian pulled himself up onto the couch Blake was sitting on, eyeing her curiously.

Blake glanced at him as he rose to his feet and wobbled across the cushions. "Uh... hey. What... what are you doing?"

"Hrglm," he explained, pointing at her.

Blake's ears flattened. "Yeeeeeah, I have no idea what that means..."

Adrian sat down heavily, eyes wide in amazement.

"...what?" Blake's ears perked up. "What are you looking at?"

Slowly, the child rose his hands to his head.

"...Oh." Blake rolled her eyes. "Yes, I have big ears on my head." She twitched them in demonstration.

Adrian twitched his own hands.

Blake quirked a brow, her ears swiveling forward.

Adrian bent his hands forward, tongue sticking out in concentration.

Blake crossed her arms. Her ears, pointedly, folded back.

"Hrrnmmm..." Adrian, after some thinking, managed to put his hands flat on his head.

A sly grin began to grow on Blake's face. "Hm." One ear rose up.

Adrian blinked. Slowly, he lifted one hand.

Blake let her other ear rise, facing sideways. Adrian, after some thought, cupped his other hand toward the table. A brief chuckle escaped Blake's lips.

"Okay, let's kick it up a notch."

She let an ear bend so it was perpendicular to her head--a bit of a strain, but possible. Adrian managed to bend his wrist to match.

Blake stretched her ears so that their tips touched--just barely. He found mimicking that to be easy.

Very slowly, Blake folded her ears back. Adrian was mimicking her action when suddenly they shot up to full height, and he squeaked as he brought his hands back up.

She began to rotate one ear back and forth so it was rowing through the air, while the other twitched side to side like a metronome. He stared in fascination, trying desperately to match her actions with his hands--

"Are you two having fun?"

Blake jumped, looking behind her at the smirking Yang. "Wh--! No. Well, maybe he is. I'm just, you know, he's here, it keeps him entertained--"

Yang glanced at Adrian, who had put his hands up straight when her ears perked up. "Yeah, I guess they're easily amused at that age."

Blake rolled her eyes. "Come on, you know I don't do kids."

"Mmmhmmm."

She folded her ears flat, completely ignorant of Adrian putting his hands against his head. "I don't! This is just a coincidence!"

"Mmmmmmmmmhmmmmmmmmmmm."

Blake glanced back at Adrian, who still had his hands flat on his head. She unfolded her ears and sighed when he put his hands up. "Now look what you made me do, you made me look ridiculous in front of my costar."

"Mblrgl?"

"Look, just..." Blake reached out, paused halfway, and put her hands on the cushion. "Hands down. Okay? Hands down."

"Yeah, you're never going to be able to convince him to do that," Yang said casually. "You need to give him something else to focus on."

Blake turned to her. Her gaze dropped to her metal arm. She glanced up at Yang's face, eyes pleading.

Yang sighed. "Only for you. Hey kiddo!" She waved a golden hand. "Look at the flashy lights!"

Adrian's eyes went wide when he saw the indicator lights on Yang's arm flicker on and off.

"So, Saphron." Blake looked over at the woman curiously. "You're the only Arc living here?"

"Yep! Moved out the second I could. Jaune and I are the only two living away from home." Saphron smiled fondly, her voice taking on a teasing lilt. "I guess he just wanted to be like his big sis."

Jaune rolled his eyes. "I, uh... hrrm..."

"Awww..." Saphron pinched his cheek. "~You didn't de-ny iiiiit!~"

Jaune pushed the hand away, which led to Saphron pushing back, which led to a little slapfight--that ended abruptly when she leaned back with a yelp.

"Oh geeze--" Jaune pulled his hands back, leaning forward. "I'm sorry, are you okay?!"

"Those are metal gauntlets, bro, soft slaps! Soft!"

"I am so so sorry--"

"It's fine, it's..." Saphron groaned. "Ow. Okay, I'm going to have somebody look at this, I'll be back for the next take..."

"We should probably start looking for a ship," Blake mused, not catching the uncomfortable look Nora and Ren shared.

"So where have you guys been staying?" Oscar asked Jaune.

"Uh.... heh, um..."

"There you are!" called a woman from across the street, waving to the group.

Yang turned around and gasped dramatically. "IT'S ME FROM THE FUTURE!"

Blake groaned. "Come on, take this seriously! I don't want to be stuck doing this scene the whole day!"

"And then, I dragged the Nevermore up the cliff so fast that when I got to the top..." Ruby spread her hands. "Its head flew clean off! Pop!"

Adrian gasped.

"I know! I was surprised too, but I hid it. I turned around with an epic pose."

Weiss rolled her eyes. "And then the director yelled at you for breaking an expensive piece of puppetry, and we had to swap out the Grimm hordes with the White Fang extras until the studio gave us a bigger budget for the season 2 finale."

"Oh come on, that is so not my fault! And they ended up using that take anyway!"

"I was looking forward to fighting the Petra Gigas. But who ends up fighting it? Team RNJR, that's who!"

"Hey, you got to take out that Lancer nest."

"I got to stand in a half-set and point my sword out at a greenscreen."

"But we did have that traintop fight with the Manticores and the Chimera."

"Yeah," Weiss conceded, "that was pretty fun. But it's called a Sphinx."

"It was clearly a chimera!" Ruby protested. "With the tail and... whatever." She turned back to Adrian. "Anyway, so that's how we filmed the initiation scenes. Do you want to hear about how we shot the fight with the Paladin?"

Adrian nodded. "Rgmrl!"

"And you're sure it's alright if we stay with you?"

Saphron smiled at Weiss's question. "Of course! We're happy to house Huntsmen and Huntresses."

"You all risk so much to keep people like us safe," Terra affirmed. "It's the least we can do. Especially for an elite Huntsman like yourself." She gave Qrow a disapproving frown. "Although I will say I was surprised to learn you had students helping you. Is that even... legal?"

Ruby gave Qrow a look. When he didn't respond, she elbowed his arm.

"Uh, of course. Think of it as an extended training... thing. Trust me, I..." He paused. "...have totally forgotten my line here, so I'm just going to level with you, these kids are the stars of the show and I'm just a cocky old guy who they put up with to pay the bills."

"Yep," Ruby agreed to the snickers of the others, "he's dead weight, and we only keep him around to sign the legal adult stuff. That's why we're so glad we found Maria."

"They took one look at my resume and they had to have me," Maria proclaimed. "Of course it's still a probationary period, but I've already increased their effectiveness by seventy percent."

"The only, hee, problem we're having is accommodations," Yang added. "We, haha, we don't have her favorite flavor of nuts."

Maria sighed sadly. "Such good kids, they can't be blamed for the economy."

Terra nodded somberly. "Oh, I understand, I completely understand."

"We should probably start looking for a ship," Blake mused, not catching the uncomfortable look Nora and Ren shared.

"So where have you guys been staying?" Oscar asked Jaune.

"Uh.... heh, um..."

"There you are!" called a woman from across the street, waving to the group.

Yang narrowed her eyes. "Is that...?"

Jaune cringed just a bit, but smiled and waved back. "Hey, Saph..."

Ruby gasped, pointing at the woman, then to Jaune, eyes darting back and forth.

Yang smirked. "Hello kiddos. Look at your sister. Now back to me. Now back to your sister, now back to me. Sadly your sister isn't me, but if she stopped using NPC-scented body wash and switched to Old Spice she could smell like me."

Weiss pinched her brow. Ruby groaned in exasperation. Nora started banging her head on a nearby lamppost.

"Look down, now back up, where are you?" Yang continued. "You're on a movie set with the sister your sister could smell like. What's in your hand, back at me, I have it. It's a cyborg arm with two tickets to that thing you love. Look again, the tickets are now flowers! Anything is possible when your sister smells like Old Spice and not an NPC. I'm on a catgirl."

"Yes you are," Blake deadpanned, "and the catgirl is not happy to have to do this scene AGAIN."

Yang leaned down, holding out her hand. "Flowers?"

"Uh..." Nora glanced back. "Guys? The baby's, uh, playing with a boom mike here..."

"Oh no." Jaune knelt down in front of Adrian. "Hey, can you give that to me? That's not a toy, you know?"

Adrian looked up at him. "Grv?"

He blinked, looking at the speakers across the room.

"Yeah, that's a microphone, it--"

Adrian held the microphone to his mouth. "Agrbo." He stared at it carefully. "Gra... bla gra."

"...yes," Jaune said. "Now. Can you give me the boom mike? We don't want to break it."

"Braga glrm narg arga nrv ragm."

Jaune sighed. "Sis? A little--"

"I've got this." Ren knelt down. "Glrg mra grrmgaa?"

"Fay!" Adrian put the boom mike down and toddled off.

"...How?" Nora demanded.

"It's a tonal language," Ren explained.

"It's literally gibberish!"

"You just need to pay more attention."

"Shut up there's food!" Ruby proclaimed, taking some sandwiches from the shared plate and handing them to the others on her couch. The others grabbed their own sandwhiches, Ruby taking a couple more, and all of them began eating. Saphron and Terra smiled at each other fondly.

Then, loudly, a song began to play. "~The vengabus is coming, and everybody's jumping--~"

Terra quickly pulled out her scroll and hit the receiver button. "Uh, hey mom! Oh, I'm fine, we're all fine, but, um, this is kind of a bad time. Yeah, sorry, you know how my brother-in-law is starring in that TV series? Well, we're cameoing, and filming right now, so... no, I get it, I get it. I'll call you back, okay? Okay. Love you too!"

She put the scroll away with an awkward smile. "Uh, are we going to have to redo the scene because of that?"

"Well," Ruby said, "probably. But that means we have to get more sandwiches, so it won't be for a while."

Weiss quirked a brow. "Vengabus?"

"Oh it used to be her favorite song," Saphron said gleefully.

"Honey--"

"She'd just get up and dance to it whenever it came on, like, hips everywhere, knees pumping--"

Terra put her face in her hands. "Oh my god."

"I'm telling you, it was a thing of beauty!" Saphron turned to her. "We've got to get you dancing again. Hey, script people! Can we write a scene with my wife dancing?"

"No!" Terra shook her head. "No, no dancing! I'm not dancing!"

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Sixteen: Renovate ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

“Well...here we are.” Turning the key, Sasuke lets the engine come to a standstill, the hum of the car now quiet. Dark eyes gaze through the windshield at the imposing building before them.

It almost seems to stare back.

“...this is it…?”

“Mhm. It’s been…” How long has it been…? “...well, a long time. Too long. But after they died...we moved into the city with our aunt and cousin. So this place sat empty from then on.”

The pair sit in silence for a moment before Sasuke unbuckles his seatbelt. “Well...should we get out and look around…?”

Hinata nods, doing the same. Doors click to open and then shut as they leave the vehicle behind. “So this is where you grew up…?”

“Partially. I was seven when our parents died. Almost eight. I have quite a few memories here, but just as many - if not more - with my aunt and her son.”

She gives a thoughtful hum, staring up at the old house with pale, inquisitive eyes. “...so why now?”

“Huh?”

“Why come back here now? Did...something happen?”

“Not really. It’s just been on my mind lately.”

“Your brother doesn’t want it…?”

“Nah, he’s happy where he’s at. Besides, he has a steady job where they’re living now. And with two kids already, he’s not fond of the idea of packing everybody up and moving.”

“Ah, that’s a good point. This place is so big...do you really need that much room…?”

“Well...we might need this much room.”

Her gaze snaps to him. “...I…?”

“C’mon, Hinata.” Sasuke manages a soft yet teasing smile. “It’s gonna happen one of these days, right? We’ve been dating almost four years now...think it might be time to move in together?”

“But this place is...is huge! And -!”

“I’m not moving in tomorrow - it’s gonna need a lot of work before anyone can live in it. It’s been sitting empty for over a decade now. Think of it more like...my eventual forever home. Work on it bit by bit, and by the time I’m ready to settle down...it’ll be here. All spruced up and ready to be lived in again.”

Hinata stares at him, clearly a bit taken aback. “I...I g-guess that makes sense…” Her gaze then averts, flushing a light pink. “And you...you really see me here with you…? When that happens?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, true: we’re each the other’s first long-term relationship, but...doesn’t that kinda hint that maybe we made good choices?”

“...I guess so. It just seems, um...far in the future.”

“...do you not want -?”

“N-no! That’s - that’s not what I mean!” Hinata quickly backtracks, waving desperate hands. “I just…! I guess I...just haven’t thought that far ahead…”

“Well one of us has to,” he rebukes, but not without a grin as she pouts at him. “C’mon, I’ll give you a tour.”

Taking out a keyring his aunt gave him, Sasuke unlocks the front door. The inside is bare: any and all furniture was sold after his aunt moved them out. Flicking a light switch does nothing, which...he honestly predicted. “Guess we’ll have to settle with opening curtains, huh?”

The house is old, modeled after styles of a bygone era. Paper screens and sliding doors, tatami mats and big beams. And rooms upon rooms upon rooms.  Many of the screens are discolored, a few torn...doors askew from their tracks, and a few tatami mats have holes in them. Whether rotten or mouse-chewed, he’s not sure. Note one: hire an exterminator, just in case.

“Watch your step.”

As they walk, Sasuke can’t help but see ghosts on memories play out: furniture reappears in his mind’s eye, his brother and parents walking around as though part of a shaky film reel. Warm Summer light makes the walls shine gold and the air smell sweet.

For a moment, he finds himself immersed in the past.

“...Sasuke…?”

A blink, and it’s gone. “...sorry. Just, uh...remembering.”

They continue on, Sasuke pointing out the purpose of each room. “This one was mine.” A door opens to a small, quaint bedroom. “Kinda undersized now though, huh?”

“A little, yes,” she can’t help but agree with a light laugh.

The back door opens into an overgrown, Winter-sleeping garden. Ice clings to the banks of an ornamental stream.

“This place is amazing...and yet so sad…”

“Yeah...it’s been in the family for generations.” A hand gestures. “Think you could work your magic out here, miss botanist?”

Hinata gives him a look, stepping out into the gravel. “...I can see it was once very beautiful.”

“Both my mom and her sister were avid gardeners. Whenever she’d come visit, this is where they’d be without fail. Even in the Winter. Itachi, Shisui and I played out here all the time.”

More flickering visions of times long past bring the gardens back to life. Green and full, they were the perfect places to play hide and seek, or make believe of any kind. They were little samurai and ninja back then, fighting epic battles with paper shuriken and bamboo rod swords. Mikoto and Manami were the empresses in needing of defending. It was so long ago, and yet he can still see it all so clearly…

Kāsan…

“Oh, look!”

Snapping back to attention, Sasuke follows to where Hinata’s dug into a thicket of weeds. “See that? It’s a lily! A type that blooms in the Winter! Poor thing’s being choked out…” She starts pulling at the overgrowth, mouth set in a determined line.

“Guess I’ll leave renovating the gardens to you, huh?”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind. My mother loved flowers, too...her name even referred to them. I think that’s where I got it from.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it.”

Eventually, the short Winter day begins to darken, and Sasuke takes them back inside. “Think we better button things up.” A flashlight on his keyring clicks on.

“At least no vandals have found it.”

“Yeah, lucky. Then again it’s so off the main road, it’s a bit easy to miss.”

“Hopefully no one see us leAHH!”

Spinning around, Sasuke startles as Hinata cries out. Her foot’s gone straight through a tatami mat.

“H-help!” she laughs, holding out a hand.

“How did that not happen the first time?!”

“I don’t know!”

It’s an easy lift to free her, the pair moving closer to the walls until they reach the front door. “Okay…! I...I think that’s enough adventure for one day…!”

“You didn’t twist your ankle, did you?”

“No, no - I’m fine. It just...scared me! I w-wasn’t expecting it!”

Sasuke still looks to her critically, waiting for a stumble as an excuse to just haul her to the car himself. But they make it out without further incident, locking the door and gate back up before retreating to the vehicle.

“...well…?”

“It’s...definitely in need of some work. But I can see all the old charm to it...and the home it used to be.”

“Think you could stand to live there for the rest of your life when the time comes?”

“So long as I don’t go sinking through any more floors,” she replies with a laugh.

“...are you sure…?”

Hinata slowly sobers. “...yes. Why are you so...adamant about it…?”

Well, this isn’t exactly how he planned to do this, but… Sasuke reaches into a pocket, fiddling for a moment before pulling out a box.

Hinata’s eyes go round as the moon.

“...because I want it - and everything else in my life - to be yours, too. Including me. For all time.” There’s a small click as he opens the ring box. “Hyūga Hinata...will you marry me…?”

Staring at the piece of jewelry for a long moment, Hinata then launches across the car to embrace him as best she can in the confined space. “Yes! Y-yes, a thousand times yet!”

Dark eyes pinch shut, taking a moment to reel in the full feeling in his chest.

“...then we better get started.”

     PHEW, this is a little on the late side, but I had a long day in town today, and then things to take care of this evening! But it's not midnight yet here, so...yay!      I love love love this idea, and it came really easily to me, thankfully. Some prompts aren't that kind, haha! I want to see Sasuke reclaim his childhood home, and fill it back up with lots of SasuHina babies, heh heh~      Anywho, I've got lots still to write tonight so I'll leave it there - thanks so much for reading!

[swiftpng]

❥ — taylor swift’s summer essentials // a glimpse of her.

Summer is Taylor’s favorite season, so she’s always prepared when she’s out having a pool/beach day. She’s always got to have some kind of book, whether it’s poetry, a biography, or a good ole YA. In her beach bag, she carries around her phone, a Polaroid camera to document the day, a speaker that plays music, little things like hair-ties, a hair brush, sunglasses, waterproof red lipstick for touch ups ( she loves sticking to her signature red lips ), and Cetaphil lotion. She also must have long lasting deodorant and sunscreen, because she doesn’t want to be that person. When she’s feeling hungry, her favorite meal would have to be a hot dog, salty potato chips, and a cold brew. Blue Moon is one of her favorite beers. Cookies and cream ice cream and fruit Popsicles are her favorite cooling mechanisms. Skittles and watermelon are her top picks for snacks, along with having a good glass of lemonade or ice cold water. Taylor will also have a deck of cards, in case anyone wants to play a card game. If you need anything to make your summer day great, Taylor’s the one to go to!

first things first, how do you feel about the summertime?

Summer is actually my favorite season for a couple of reasons. One being that I am able to wear a dress almost every single day. I just really enjoy having beach days, gardening with my mom, and being able to take advantage of the warm weather.

would you say that you’re more of an enjoy the outdoors, or enjoy the AC type of person?

Definitely both. I love taking a long hike, but I also enjoy reading a book, with the cats cuddled up on my couch and the AC on, blasting cool air.  

think back to childhood… what was your favorite part of summer?

Not being in school was a highlight. I would have all the time in the world to do whatever my heart desired and it let my creative juices flow. I once wrote an entire novel during the summer when I was younger.

now that you’re an adult, has that favorite part of summer changed?

Usually in the summer, I’m either on tour or planning my next album, so I try to cherish any free time I have. Also, not being in school is still the best.

are there any summertime rituals that you have to do? putting away winter clothes, readying the yard, breaking out the grill, etc.?

To get into the summertime spirit, I always change up the way my house looks. Home decor is really important to me in terms of the way I view the seasons. Getting the grill out is also a big indicator that it’s summer to me. If you’re interested in having a big steak with baked potatoes and green beans, I’m your girl!

do you prefer to do a lot of traveling during the summer, or hang at home and enjoy the time off?

I only like to travel to places where I know I won’t be seen. Paparazzi taking pictures of me when I’m trying to relax is a mood killer, but over time, I’ve learned that I only get one life to live and I shouldn’t worry too much about people looking at every move I make. If there’s a day where my anxiety is heightened, I usually just stay home. I keep myself busy by making a new recipe I found on Pinterest, or by watching one of my favorite episodes of Friends.

whether it be from childhood or adulthood – what’s your favorite summer trip that you’ve ever taken?

From the time I was two to fourteen, my family and I would spend summers at the Jersey Shore. We had a beach front house in Stone Harbor, and I remember every summer being a magical time.

what is your ultimate summer trip destination from your bucket list?

I would love to go to the Maldives or Bali!

do you have a pool at your place? if not, is there a particular place in town you go to cool off? maybe a friend’s, or the public pool?

I do have a pool at my place, and it’s one of my favorite things about my house. Laying out in the pool while relaxing on a pool float is one of my summer staples.

when you’re in the swimming pool, are you more about relaxing, or do you do a little rough housing?

If I’m alone, I’m all about relaxing and enjoying the sun, but when I have friends or family over then I’m all in on some rough housing. Don’t let me break out the pool volleyball net, because you’re gonna get the worst out of me. I love a little competition, and I can be brutal when I want to win!

ladies: bikini or one piece? and gents: shirts on or off by the pool?

I’m into both. Although I do enjoy mixing and matching bikini tops and bottoms.

you’re laying by the pool, drink in hand, sunglasses on – what song is playing that makes you think it’s summertime?

Not to self promo or anything, but my new single You Need To Calm Down is my summer jam. But, anything by Lana Del Rey gets me in the summertime mood as well.

any summer movie favorites that you can’t miss out on? whether it be an epic beach romance or a hot, sweaty heist film?

I love a good romance film, but I love watching classic teen films like Mean Girls, Clueless, and 10 Things I Hate About You.

it’s a beach day! do you spend more time on the sand, or in the water?

The little kid in me still loves making sandcastles and building extravagant pieces. I do go into the water, but I have a deep fear of sea urchins.

are there any special things that you like to do while at the beach? surfing, building castles, hunting for shells…?

Building at least one sandcastle is a must for me. Also, I have a tendency to bring home sea shells since I have a small collection of them at my place. I once was a cafe getting ready to pay when a whole bunch of sea sells fell out of my bag and the lady at the cash register told me that they only accepted cash, so there’s that.

do you tan easily, or burn? and are you always as diligent with the sunscreen as you should be?

I don’t know if I tan easily, but I rarely get sun burned. I try to use as much sunscreen as I need so I can avoid the harmful effects of the sun.

easy one… do you freckle in the sun?

I don’t, unfortunately! My best friend Abigail does, and she looks really beautiful when all of her freckles come out.

what are some activities or hobbies that you pick up during the summertime? anything you look forward to doing the most?

Hosting pool parties, trying out new recipes with vegetables I’ve grown from my garden, and taking long hikes are some of my favorite summer activities. I really want to learn more Spanish before we head to Spain, so that’s going to be something I’m going to focus on in the next few days.

you’re loading up the grill for a summer barbecue… what’s going on it?

Hot dogs, burgers, and chicken wings. Those are the three meats I’m pretty much set on making every summer. I always try to make veggie options as well, so I really love making corn on the cob, stuffed peppers filled with rice, and a variety of smoked vegetables. 

and finally… favorite hot weather treat to cool off?

Cookies and cream ice cream with a pretzel cone. So, so good.

[jalenmara]

HUGE thanks to @notpmahalem for the moodboard-- I feel like I’ve made it into the big leagues or something <3 So beautiful. The newest chapter of Snowstorm - On Ice! after the cut. <3

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next few weeks flew by in a blur. Although no one said it out loud, when she and Jon showed up to the arena the day following their catastrophic rehearsal with hearts light and open, the sense of relief from their coaching and management team was palpable. Dei had even tried to pry the details from her (for she was discerning in the extreme, and knew that something had to have happened), but for once Dany was close-lipped about what had transpired between Jon and her. She was still raw from the unfolding of her heart to him, and had no desire to invite more people into her state of vulnerability.

Thankfully, Tyrion was more than happy to distract them from their burgeoning questions and feelings for each other. After all, they had a World Championship to win. With their Skyfall program needing to be re-worked completely into a short program, and Dei’s new Free Skate looming on the horizon, they had their work cut out for them. The days were long and hard, and more often than not, the entire group retreated to Bronn’s to unwind after the long and grueling days.

Also, more often than not, Dany would find that she and Jon were the first to the arena in the mornings, and the last to leave the comfort of their home away from home in the evenings, almost as if the hesitance to be away from each other for longer than a few hours had seeped into their very beings. It was the little things-- Jon showing up daily with tea from their favorite coffee shop, Dany purchasing a particular favorite rawhide bone for Ghost that showed just how familiar and ingrained they had become in each other’s lives. Their relationship now easily transcended that of partners and friends, and lay somewhere in the murky netherworld of “other.”

Neither felt the need to point it out, as if the other would be spooked if they addressed the phenomenon directly, but as the days and weeks went on, they found that the other’s presence in their own homes had become a constant as well. Their early mornings in the arena together led to carpooling, and the carpooling led to “Well, do you want to come in to warm up for a moment?”, and the warming up led to long talks over tea and wine and dinner and everything in between.

Jon proved to be a constant font of surprise as well. From the first moment he had invited her into his home, Dany was surprised at the changes since her first (and only) visit. Previously, the feminine touches had been overwhelming, the ghost of Ygritte’s presence lurking in every corner, but now…

The rainboots were nowhere to be found, the porch cleared for winter, and the garden was bare and waiting for the new growth of spring. Indoors held a warmer, more welcoming quality. Gone were the formal white lace curtains and doilies, a modern touch of abstract blown-glass art (similar to the rose he had given her, she had noticed) taking the place of the knick-knacks that used to cover every surface. When Dany asked about the redecorating, Jon simply shrugged. “It’s time.”

And he continued to surprise. No more than two weeks after their late night heart to heart, Jon appeared one morning with a pristine new contract, the same as before, but with one key difference-- all clauses about them being alone together were mysteriously missing. Dany could feel her cheeks heating as he held the door of his jeep open for her, waiting until she had climbed into the shelter of warmth before he handed it to her.

“Have your lawyers look it over if you want, but it’s much more…” He paused, his eyes on the road instead of her, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “...standard.”

Dany could feel her heart thrumming in her chest. She hadn’t asked for this, although by now they had broken the particular clauses to which he referenced several times. She simply tucked it into her bag, trying desperately to ignore the butterflies fluttering nervously in her stomach. “I’ll get it back to you by the end of the week.”

“No rush.” he replied easily, his smile breaking through the clouds of his expression like beams of sunlight in a storm.

Dany also found herself grinning at him stupidly, knowing that at last, they were positioning themselves for something great, something that could last forever, something that would be better than any legacy she could build on her own.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Dei’s Free Skate was a work of art. While their Skyfall program was all rough edges balanced delicately on the blade of sensuality, the Free Skate was everything their short program could not be. Open, light, romantic. Two sides of the same coin, but deeply illustrating the longing, the want, and the ease which encompassed every bit of themselves as they skated and cared for each other.

And yet, nothing physical had progressed beyond the occasional hug and kiss on the cheek, both of them straddling the edges of professionality. Dany felt herself slowly burning up from the inside out. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she could not make the first move, even though it was her habit. She had studied Jon for long enough to know that while she could lead a horse to water, she couldn’t make him drink.

And so she waited. Her heart in his hands, and in her throat. It went against all of her modern feminist sensibilities, for she longed for nothing more than to greet him in the comfort of her own apartment with a glass of wine and a command that he take off all his clothes and ravish her in ways she had only dreamt of up until now.

But no. She knew instinctively that that if she were to do that, all would be lost. She was no longer the person who barged in and took what she wanted for her own with little regard for the feelings of others. She had been down that path before and both times had ended in madness. Perhaps this time, she could learn the art of patience, the sensation of savoring the smallest touch, the slightest spark of joy in a whispered word, the deep guttural feelings of want as the waiting, the longing, grew and lengthened.

So instead, she took a page out of Tyrion’s book, putting all of her feelings into her skating. She did her best to show Jon in all but words the true surface of her heart-- the nooks, crannies, wounds, and scars of it, now entrusted solely to his capable hands.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Dany didn’t often think of Boston as a large city (she had lived in New York for a time after all), and so often found herself surprised at the modern conveniences it offered. She had been convinced that there would be no direct flights available from Logan International to Shanghai Pudong, but Jon had simply laughed at her for her ignorance. Her breath still caught in her chest at the sight and sound of it, his luscious bottom lip caught between his teeth as he tried (in vain) to temper his response to her.

Tyrion more than happily set her straight, relieved that numerous flights were not needed to travel to China and back, and that he would only have to endure one monster, marathon flight of 15 hours rather than a number of puddle jumpers to larger airports and planes to get them safely to their final destination. As they boarded their flight, Dany easily fell into her role of caretaker for Tyrion and got him settled with his face mask, water, and instructions to the flight crew to wake him for any and all beverage services. Finally, leaving him to Davos’ tender mercies and care, Dany consulted her ticket once more to check her seat assignment, instinctively searching for Dei.

...only to find that Dei was lodged between Jorah and Grey, which meant that… Jon quirked an eyebrow at her playfully as he stood to help her with her carry-on, taking it from her shoulder and lifting it easily into the overhead compartment. “Window or aisle?” He asked, sweeping his arm out over their row, offering her first choice.

Dany bit back a grin as she threw a pointed look at Dei who steadfastly ignored her and continued to pour over the safety booklet with Grey, pointing out the various nearby exits. “Window.” she breathed, settling into the seat and pulling her seatbelt over her lap, snapping the buckle into place and situating it low across her hips. “You can’t see the magic of the skies from the aisle.”

Jon snorted. “The ‘Magic of the Skies’, eh? You might have to walk me through that one.”

“Oh, it won’t be hard.” Dany smiled at him before turning back to the window, making sure that the shade was fully open. “Do you not like flying?” she asked, wondering if in her desire to not make her interest so obvious, she had missed a key component of her... partner. She knew that Tyrion hated flying, and that he often self-medicated his way across oceans in an attempt to sleep through the longer flights, but Jon-- She never got the impression that Jon feared much of anything.

“It’s not my favorite thing in the world.” He admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. “But, once we get up in the air, I’ll be fine. Take-off is the worst.”

“Oh Jon, no.” She breathed. “Take-off is the best… That’s the epic battle that ignites the magic. Only those who have fought gravity and won can ever truly enjoy the beauty of flight.”

He leaned his head back against the headrest, the warmth in his eyes telling her that he was thoroughly charmed by what she had to say, albeit skeptical. “Epic battles and magic, huh? I think I’ve been missing out by sitting with Davos for all of our flights up ‘til now.”

Dany shivered under his gaze, reaching up to adjust the vent blowing cool air directly on her. “Well, stick with me Snow. I’ll show you wonders you have never seen.”

“I don’t doubt that at all.” His response was whispered, almost missed, and Dany could feel her cheeks heat. Before she could respond, the flight attendants walked through the cabin for the safety demonstration, and then the captain’s voice was on the intercom, asking the flight attendants to prepare for take off.  

Jon gripped the armrests, the tension in his hands and face obvious. Dany laughed lightly and pried the hand closest to her off the upholstery and threaded her fingers through his own. “Stick with me, kitten.” She said teasingly. “I’ve got you.”

Jon cracked an eyelid and peered at her suspiciously, his fingers tightening around her own by reflex. “It’ll go better for both of us if you let me concentrate right now--”

“It’ll go better for both of us if you close your eyes and just listen to the sound of my voice.” She whispered, leaning closer to him and resting her head gently on his shoulder, his hand firmly caught in her own, and her head resolutely turned toward the window as she went on. “Did I ever tell you that I actually wanted to be a pilot when I grew up?”

His head bumped hers as he shook his head. “You might have skipped that before now.”

“Before my parents died, before it was just Viserys and me, we were always traveling. Mum and Dad always had a million engagements to go to, the Targaryen ‘legacy’ needing do be upheld, don’t you know. Viserys hated flying, it eventually got so bad he had to be sedated for every flight, even the short ones. But me…” She paused to take a breath, her fingers gently stroking Jon’s, hoping that he would relax under her ministrations soon. “I love flying. The speed, the rush… the freedom.”

The plane rumbled around them, coasting out to the runway, a hush falling over the passengers as each settled in for the long night ahead. “We flew so often when I was growing up that my dad actually knew most of the pilots on our usual routes. Sometimes, they would bring me up into the cockpit for a while and let me watch them. Pilots are the bravest of humans. And only the bravest reap the best rewards.”

A jolt, and Jon’s grip on her hand tightened. Dany smiled and brought her other hand up to gently rub his forearm, soothing as best she could. The plane was picking up speed, and Jon’s breath hitched in his chest. “This is the best part, Jon.” She said softly. “Gravity doesn’t want anyone to fly-- she despises birds for defying her, and now humans too. But flight is a gift…” The rumble around them increased. “Gravity fights to keep us grounded, she’s a jealous mistress who doesn’t want to share the wonders of the sky with those of us who would know its secrets. She wants to keep us small, and timid, but we--”

The noise was growing ever louder, and Dany leaned closer, her lips now brushing against Jon’s earlobe, struggling to be heard above the rattling of the plane. “Now, we fight. We come together, building speed and purpose, knowing that the beauty we are about to behold is greater than the tethers of our fear keeping us grounded.” The plane tilted as the front wheel left the tarmac, leaving only the rear wheels clattering on the pavement behind them.

“The last vestiges are always the hardest to shed, the last of our fears to leave behind, for there is no room for fear in flight. Only hope. The ground wants to hold us prisoner, but the sky--” The plane lifted off completely, surging upwards in triumph as Jon gasped quietly beside her. “Oh, Jon. They sky calls for us. And we must answer.”

His eyes flew open, the grip on her hand firm as he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the tips of her fingers. “And so we will.” He said quietly, sending Dany’s heart soaring even further into the heavens.

“So we will.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Ladies and Gentlemen- Welcome to our live coverage of the 2015 World Figure Skating Championship! We’re thrilled to welcome you to the Shanghai Oriental Sports Center in Shanghai, China. I’m your host for the evening, Scott Hamilton, and I am joined once more for our Pairs Skating Free Skate coverage by none other than former World Pairs Champions, Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand!”

Ellaria’s laugh rang out over the sound waves. “Ah, Scott, You are a dear. Thank you for having us back! It is a delight to be here, and to be surrounded by such new and burgeoning talent.”

“That’s not all that ‘burgeoning’, my love.” Oberyn smiled, and leaned closer to his paramour, her hand firmly captured in his own as he lifted it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “We have had quite a thrilling few days here in the arena.”

Scott nodded. “So true. So far China has put up a strong showing, proving once more than home ice advantage is no myth. Both teams of Han/Sui and Tong/Pang performed admirably in the Short Program, and now sit in second and third respectively.”

“Don’t count out the Canadians either.” Oberyn intoned. “Radford and Duhamel sit in first place after the Short, and are poised for victory once again, fresh off their National Championship just a few short months ago.”

Ellaria tittered a gentle laugh. “Oh, my love. When will you learn?”

“Learn?” Oberyn shot her a dark glare full of promise.

“Yes, learn.” Ellaria’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Snow/Storm is not to be counted out by any stretch of the imagination. Their Skyfall program was certainly a crowd favorite.”

“Ah, yes, the crowd’s favorite, but not the judges.” Scott was quick to point out.

Ellaria nodded sedately. “To be expected-- their programs have been in flux since the US National Championship. Those who follow our sport will recognize that the Skyfall program used to be their Free Skate, although I hear that choreographer Dei Naath has cooked up something equally as showstopping and spectacular for tonight’s showcase.”

“I should hope so.” Oberyn snorted. “This isn’t child’s play.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.” Scott said brightly. “Stay tuned folks, Snow/Storm kicks off our final group for the Free Skate, next!”

~*~*~*~*~*~

They huddled in the Green Room as a team. Neither Dany nor Jon had said a word all morning, each retreating into themselves a bit as they repeatedly walked through the program, their only communication that of their hands as they reached for the other, going over every skill and move under Dei’s watchful eye.

“Remember-- grace, elegance, height, skill.” Dei droned on. “I want your lines long, your steps light. Jon, I want to think she’s going into space, you’ve thrown her so high. Dany, your landings have to be soft, everything you do needs to be buoyant, lifting the both of you as high as you can go.”

Dany nodded rotely, her mind a whirl. After years of training, they were finally here. National Champions in their own right, poised on the brink of something life changing for them both (if they were to gain the international spotlight). A win here today would mean an invitation to the ISU Grand Prix event in the fall, and more notoriety that she or Jon had enjoyed ever before. Making an international name for themselves could only help in her long-term goals, which definitely included PyeongChang in 2018. But first, she needed to concentrate on the skate in front of her, and on her partner.

He was like a man reborn. Gone were the nerves that seemed to haunt him during Nationals. Instead, it was she who seemed uncharacteristically nervous and trapped within her own head. She folded her trembling hands in front of her, clasping them together so tightly she knew there was a chance of bruising tomorrow. She just wanted to do well. Dei had choreographed a beautiful program, the haunting music of La Terre vue du ciel by Armand Amar, staying with her for days, creeping into her dreams. Dreams which always concluded with Jon folding her into his warm embrace--

No. She couldn’t think about that right now. She owed it to them all to concentrate, to bring the best of her, the best of them both to the forefront of her mind, and to pursue this victory with all of her dogged strength and tenacity she had nurtured over the years. She glanced at Jon, who reached for her hands, bringing them between his own and rubbing briskly, before unclenching them and weaving his fingers through her own.

Tyrion stood before them, watching warily. He had seemed excited to see their growing bond at first, but lately, Dany didn’t know what had gotten into him. Scowling, sighing, and generally displeased with them for reasons she couldn’t begin to comprehend. “You’ve got an uphill climb ahead of you.” He said sternly. “Digging yourself out of fourth with two Chinese teams in your group will be difficult--”

“But not impossible.” Jon broke their unified silence with a promise, an edge of warning to his tone that Tyrion picked up on immediately.

“No.” He murmured. “Not impossible, but this is no longer child’s play. You must be perfect. There is no more room for error.”

Jon’s grip on her hand tightened as he glanced down at her, the warmth and determination she saw in his gaze firmly mirrored in her own. “Then we won’t leave any.”

“Final group to the ice, please. Final Group to the ice, please.” The announcement rang out over the intercom, and the sudden swirl of cacophony deafened her, her mind blank except for the steadfastness of her partner, grounding her beside him.

There was a whirl of last minute well wishes, hugs, and kisses as they removed their skate guards, Davos and Dei full of warm pride, even Jorah and Grey cracking through their stoicism with slight grins of encouragement. Tyrion reached for her hand briefly, giving it a gentle squeeze, and a small, sad smile before nodding and bowing over her hand. “Your Grace.”

She shot Tyrion an exasperated smile and a narrow look of warning before she and Jon stepped out onto the ice, leaving everyone and everything behind. They didn’t look at each other as they swept around the ice, taking a full lap to acclimate and settle into themselves, shaking loose the nerves.

“The first skaters in this final group represent the United States of America. Dany Storm, and Jon Snow.” At Jon’s brief squeeze of her hand, she spun out, turning in his arms to look up at him just once, her eyes blazing and her breath catching at this sight of his determined gaze before turning her back into his chest, both arms gracefully extended on either side of her, their fingertips touching ever so slightly.

Today, they didn’t need words. The music said everything that they were unable to say. The gentle chords of the piano and strings elevating them into each other, folding them together as they moved and flowed across the ice. She reached for Jon, putting all of her longing and need into her grasp, as he moved just out of reach, the gentle chase across the stars lifting them together-- the call of the air, of freedom begging her to join them.

His hands, sure and strong, went to her waist in preparation for their first throw, and suddenly she was airborne-- flying, spinning, a delighted laugh falling from her lips as she threw herself with abandon into the program. His hands again on her waist as he caught her, bringing her down to the ice as gently as if she weighed no more than a leaf on the wind. The crowd erupted into applause, and she knew at his grin that this was the beginning of something truly inspired.

The next throw was even larger, all of Jon’s power on display as he threw her as hard and as far as he could, trusting her to harness his strength, control all of the speed and strength he had gifted to her as she floated through the air, her landing soft as a cat’s, the ice calling her to the home she had found in his arms. She chased him across the ice, his expression begging to be caught, for her to find all of the cherishment she lacked within him.

His hands guided her softly through a series of lifts, his quiet strength on full display. Not showy, not flashy, but just so solely Jon she felt her heart tug in her chest, bursting with pride that they could be this for each other, the softness of their gazes falling upon the other with exquisite gentleness and care. Together, they opened the windows to their souls, carrying the audience along with them on the gentle breezes, their power building with the music, the driving beats and rhythm guiding them through the spins, jumps, and step sequences.

Finally, the gentleness returned, and Dany once more found herself in Jon’s arms, completely wrapped up in him, gathering her strength and courage for the more intimate lifts, nuzzling herself into the crook of his arms as together they fought gravity to a draw. Finally, they reached the end, Jon on his knees under her, lifting her to the heavens, wonder and awe alight in his eyes as the last strains of the music faded away, the crowd’s cheers a vague sensation as he lowered her to the ice.

Dany’s hands went to her burning face, overwhelmed by the fire in Jon’s eyes. Her skates went out from under her and she slid to the ice on her back, when suddenly she felt Jon’s weight over her. She looked up at him, and didn’t know if it was victory or desire burning in his eyes, but she knew that he was a hair’s breadth from pressing his lips against her own, World Championship and crowds around them be damned. Her own lips parted is surprise as he gathered her to his chest, and for one glorious moment, Dany thought she actually could give in to all of the delightful longings that had been crawling over her for so long. As he lay on top of her on the ice, Dany couldn’t help but think about how his hands had already mapped every portion of her body (professionally, of course) and now, oh how she longed to find out what he could do without it, to find out the delicate strength in the snap of his hips.

Jon pulled back, his hands in her hair supporting her head, his eyes searching hers for forgiveness, or permission, which she didn’t know, but then suddenly, she had buried her head in his shoulder, the weight of the ground binding her to her trepidation once more-- the freedom of the skies just out of her grasp.

Sound returned, the applause of the crowds washing over her like waves as Jon pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her, lifting her from the ice in a delighted hug, a laugh falling from his lips and covering her like grace. “We did it!” He whispered, leaning close to her as she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“We did.” She whispered back, sweeping out to take their bows and coming back to him as he led her to the Kiss and Cry to await their scores.

Their entire team was beside themselves with joy, Dei’s arms wrapped around Grey as she jumped up and down in excitement, Tyrion and Davos both beaming with pride as they settled in for the scores. The wait was interminable, the only constant Jon’s hand in her own, the unheard whispers of hope and promises as the seconds ticked by, until finally-- a season best for Snow/Storm and a score of 159.31. Enough to catapult them far enough into first place that no one would be able to catch them.

In the Green Room once the rest of the scores had been announced and the dust settled, a bottle of champagne appeared and the newest World Champions toasted their success, their team, and most of all, each other.

“To Dei!” Jon crowed, the lightness in his eyes almost as intoxicating to her as the champagne swirling through her system as he thrust a glass skyward in salute. “May every program she choreograph be as successful on the first try as this one!”

Dei smiled. “To Jon and Dany-- without whom my programs would never see the light of day!” Their group cheered raucously, and Tyrion finally tapped on his glass for attention.

“To always pursuing your dreams. The trifecta is within your reach, my dears! First Worlds, and then the Grand Prix. Next stop, Madrid!”

Dany laughed and tapped her glass against Jon’s. “To us.” She breathed.

Jon wrapped his arm around her waist and clinked his glass to hers in return. “To us.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

[heyhowdyhellohi]

How Quickly We Mend Pt. 6

Masterlist here

Peter Maximoff x OC (NOT PIETRO FROM THE AVENGERS! PETER AS IN EVAN PETERS AS IN X-MEN)

Warning: TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE, Language Probably

Words: (estimated) 1.8k

Summary: X-Men Days of Future Past timeline, plus an oc healing mutant, Amelia. I’m not doing that thing where I quote huge chunks of the movie. This is going to be related, and then it’s going to veer off into its own thing, namely a love story between Peter and the reader.

HEAVILY EDITED

Peter practically inhales two whole boxes of pizza when he returns and Amelia shoves her worries to the side like she always does and eats half of the third pizza. Peter is flopped onto one of the plush brown leather couches of what appears to be a half library-half sitting room. Amy curls up in an arm chair. Both of them sit and digest for a bit as Peter prattles on an endearing story about his sisters and how he bothers them.

“And to this day we haven’t found that rubber ball.” Peter concludes his epic tale.

“It’s still inside him?!” Amy exclaims, dumbfounded.

“Well I don’t know where else it could be!” Peter shrugs, just as confused as she is.

“Does Wanda know?” Amy presses, leaning in conspiratorially, as though his sister could overhear them if she spoke too loudly.

“I’ve been too scared to ask. We haven’t talked about it since that day,” Peter admits solemnly. They laughed at life’s serendipity before settling into a warm silence.

“I never had any siblings. And I never really got to see my cousins that much.” Amy vocalizes.

“Family’s overrated.” Peter stretches and shifts to face her. “Hey, why do you trust these guys so much?” Peter seems to already be regaining his zooming energy as he is suddenly by the book shelf flipping through the pages of an old green edition as though it’s a flip-book.

“Who?” Amy rests her head on the back of the seat. She knows who.

“Hank, Charles and Logan. I mean, for me it’s fine. I don’t need to trust them, I can just make a run for it if things go south. But your power can’t protect you,” Peter explains a bit, looking half interested in the conversation as he puts the green book back and opens another one, red. The spine cracks when he opens it. But Amy knows his nonchalance is an act. He’s flipping through the pages slowly, one by one.

“I’ve been alone since I found out I was a freak,” Amy turns her head to look down at her feet, suddenly realizing that dirty shoes have no place stepping on a very nice leather arm chair. She lowers her feet to the ground, resting them instead on the elegant Persian rug. It doesn’t make her feel better. “I finally have the chance to be a part of something.”

“Hey, freaks are way cooler that normies. I prefer them actually,” Peter says, very matter-of-fact.

Peter sleeps on the couch. Amelia spends the night resting on top of the bed covers, fully clothed, in a room with a window to the garden. She had pulled the curtains apart to watch the stars. The air is stiff and stale, thick with the smell of disuse, as she stares up at the ceiling in the moonlight. She finds herself wondering if Peter would sit with her if she asked him to. But she knows she wouldn’t feel comfortable with him in the room as she tried to sleep. She thinks he’s both exciting and terrifying, but she’s not sure why. She fights with herself, because he’s just a boy, a nice boy who worries about her, that’s all. But it’s nice to think about being close to someone. Feeling ridiculous because there are a thousand better things to worry about in this particular moment, she turns to the window and counts the stars until the sun rises. Sleep seems about as far out of reach to her as the lights in the sky.

In the early morning, as the light casts shadows onto the hardwood and Amy watches the sun awaken the world through her window, there’s a commotion. Downstairs, the door has opened and something is happening, something that has caused raised voices and worry. Amy bolts up in bed and runs to the entrance despite the stiffness in her limbs and neck. The halls are confusing and maze-like, especially as they catch the early morning light in such an unfamiliar way, but she’s certain she’s moving towards the sound of voices.

“Don’t worry, Professor. I’ll get your medicine!” Hank runs up the stairs in the entrance, shooting her a small ‘hello’ before moving past her, long legs taking the steps two-at-a-time.

“What’s wrong with him?” Amelia asks from the top of the steps. She feels an empty, faintly vacuum-like feeling in her chest, and without looking she knows her hands are shaking. Logan is holding Charles up as the scrawny man rests all of his weight against the wall behind him.

“I don’t know. Stay over there,” Logan points at her, glancing her way for only a moment. “Professor, why can’t you walk?”

Amy ignores Logan and descends the stairs as Charles groans at whatever wounds he feels. She can’t see anything, blood, bruises, or otherwise. She stands by the two men, just out of arms reach of either of them. She wants to take his pain away and run away until her feet bleed all at once. It takes all of her will power to just keep her feet still.

“It’s the medicine. It’s fading. I missed doses.” Charles explains, gasping through the pain.

“You just hold on, Charles.” Logan helps him slide to the ground, legs splayed out in front of him.

“Amy,” he chokes out through whimpers, whipping his hands up to his head, over his ears. “You’re so afraid.”

“What is he doing? Why’s he saying that?” Amy backs up further. But she can’t escape the reach of his mind. It’s like plunging through tepid water and suddenly being two places at once. A part of her can hear Logan yelling for her, worried, confused. The other part of her is remembering, and she can feel Charles invading like a shadow weighing down on her mind, keeping her submerged.

Amy saw the first time her father hit her. His red face yelling right at her. The defiant flame in her chest as she talked back. Then the pain on her cheek.

“Amy!”

Then she saw as her father apologized for hitting her. Amy was wrapped in his arms, and despite everything she felt warm and safe and she forgave him the moment she saw the tears in his eyes.

“Professor! What the fuck are you doing to her!”

Amy was in her bedroom, curled up under her faded, hand-me-down comforter that did nothing to keep out the cold. She couldn’t sleep, haunted by the sounds of her mother’s pain and memories of her own helplessness. She felt the confusion, deep in her stomach with a vividness that had faded as the years crept by. If he loves me, why does he keep hitting me? How can I forgive him for hitting mom? How can I not forgive him? He’s my father. Is it really my fault like he says it is? Amy was that helpless child again, always willing to forgive and hope.

“She’s crying! Can’t you see you’re hurting her?”

Amy relives her mother rushing her into the closet in her bedroom when her father came home. She can feel the scratchy flannel she pressed into her mouth to keep from sobbing too loudly. Amy remembers listening as he beat her mother and being incapable of doing anything to protect the person she loves most in the world.

“Snap out of it! Please!”

Amy’s powers manifesting. The first time she was numb as her father beat her. The first time she looked into the bathroom mirror and watched the bruise and the bloody cut on her face disappear all on their own. The panic. The countless times Amy would lay with her mother and heal her after her father hurt her, and cry soundlessly at the pain that blazed through her every cell like a wild fire.

“Peter! Take her the fuck away from here!”

“It won’t help, Logan, he’s too powerful.” Hank is in her memory? No, Hank is outside. Hank is real. Hank’s yelling.

She saw her father burn a cigarette into her skin, and watch it heal. She felt the needles in her scalp as he grabbed her by the hair and threw her outside. Freak, he had called her. She felt the boiling tears and violent sobs as her own mother wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t fight for her. As much as she begged and called at the door, they didn’t open it all night. It wasn’t until morning that her father came out with a gun and threatened to shoot her unless she left. Amy watched for the second time as the cowering shape of her mother whispered ‘Go away” from behind her husband.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so so so very sorry. I can’t... please, I can’t stop.” Charles. His words are in her head and in the air. Charles is everywhere.

She was walking down the sidewalk in winter. A car skid in the snow, crashed, wrapped itself around a streetlight. A father was in the front seat, a mother in the passenger’s, and a child in the back. The child got the brunt of the damage, she dying. The woman was alive, muttering something. A prayer. Amelia was hugging the child into her lap. She felt like someone was repeatedly beating her with a hot frying pan, cooking her flesh as it came into contact and shattering her bones, and through the torture she smiled, because if it hurt it meant the child was alive.

She is being shaken. Someone is screaming in pain. She is screaming in pain. The high-pitched howl chokes up as she realizes it is her own throat that is screeching. She’s kneeling on the floor. Logan holds her shoulders. He’s saying something.

“It’s okay. It’s over. It’s okay.” She leans into him and wraps her arms around him, trying to forget how the smell of his leather jacket reminds her of the dark closet at home.

“I’m sorry...” Charles is sitting on the floor, crying. She is crying.

“What was that?” Peter asks, eyes fixed on her.

“I”m so sorry, Amelia. I-” Charles’s voice breaks. He looks to Hank and ushers him to bring something over.

“The professor got into Amy’s head.” Logan growls out, still holding Amy. She is latched onto him like wet kitten, scared and desperate, expecting an attack from all sides.

Hank hands Charles a syringe filled with yellow liquid. “His powers are unreliable recently. They can be quite dangerous,” Hank defends his mentor and friend.

Charles tugs up his sleeve and places the needle at his vein.

“Charles, wait!” Logan commands. “We need to find Raven. You’re the only one who can do that. But only if you have your powers.”

Charles laughs dryly. “Did you not see what I just did to Amy? You think I can use Cerebro in this state?” he shouts, but he brings the needle away from his arm.

“We need to try,” Logan says, standing up and bringing Amy with him. She is shaking, and she still hasn’t stopped crying.

Charles glances between Logan, Peter, Hank, and Amy. His gaze lingers on her, on her red eyes and runny nose, the way she her body shudders as she takes deep breaths. “There’s no way. I can’t do it. We failed. That’s it. It’s over!”

“Peter, take her to the kitchen, please.” Logan turned to the silver kid. Peter holds her up and guides her away, walking slowly for once.

“Wait,” Amy mutters as she grabs a fistful of Peter’s silver jacket and turns to look at Charles. She feels like she’s just woken up from a nightmare and she can’t quite trust her senses yet because the dream hasn’t fully left her.

Charles looks down at his feet, useless before him. Though, not more useless than the rest of him, he thinks.

“If you’re going to do it, don’t do it for my sake.” she whispers to her own feet which barely hold her up as she leans on Peter. She wipes away her tears and sniffles in an attempt to compose herself. Her next words come out bitter. “Don’t use me as your excuse.”

“Amy, I never-” Charles tries halfheartedly to explain himself.

“If you’re going to claim you lost control, save it. You know I’ve heard that before. It’s time you gained control, don’t you think? Professor?” The way she says Professor is accusing, almost mocking. She keeps her head down as she turns again, letting Peter lead her away. Then, just at the doorway, unsure if he can still hear her, she says “I’ve met enough addicts in my life to recognize one when I see one.”

Part 5 - Part 7 (WIP)

[yukiwrites]

The Most Illustrious Visit

Thank you so much for commissioning me again, @breeachuu! Thanks for your patience as well ^v^;)

Summary: Cressida’s pregnancy is the best excuse for Owain’s future past friends to pay him a visit or two. Or maybe three. They need to make sure Cressida is well-attended, after all!

Commission info HERE and HERE!

Cressida's pregnancy, among other things, served to remind her how cherished her husband Owain was by his friends. Of course, Owain was the kind of person who would be loved regardless of situation he were in (back in Nohr, despite his outward weirdness, he was always surrounded by someone with a bright smile), but being able to witness how much his future past companions cared about him made Cressida's heart settle in comfortably with the passing of months.

They showed their appreciation with letters, presents and visits, always conveying their heartfelt feelings towards their friend and his growing family: Some were still amazed at how they all actually managed to have a peaceful future for themselves after a life of fighting, while others enjoyed every single moment and looked forward to meeting the mini-Owain that was on the way.

The word of Cressida's pregnancy spread around like wildfire, and both she, Owain and Frederick knew that it was Lissa's doing -- the princess was never a good secret keeper, after all. Soon even the future past children who lived away from Ylisse had heard the news.

The first ones to visit were, of course, his cousins Morgan and Lucina, as well as the most frequent.

"I came to play again!" Morgan would announce as he saw himself in, comfortable enough to barely knock before entering. "I brought a charm for the baby!"

"Morgan, please; it doesn't matter if he's family or no, we need to actually wait any of them to welcome us instead of barging in-" Lucina reprimanded, pulling her little brother's ear.

"Owowow, Sis! But it's Owain's house! Fellow Justice Cabal member and- owowow!"

"Who has a wife and a soon-to-be-born child, Morgan. Wait for when one of them opens the door, all right?" The princess twisted her lips, lifting her chin.

"Please, Lady Lucina, it's alright." Cressida welcomed them after washing her hands from tending to the back garden. "You two are Owain's family, after all. You'll always be welcome."

"See? See?!" Morgan beamed, disentangling himself from his sister's grip. Lucina once again grabbed him by the ear, though.

"Please don't indulge this behavior, Lady Cressida, or else he will not learn..."

"Siiiisss..." Morgan pouted, leaning his head on Lucina's shoulder. The princess cleared her throat, always unable to say no to his puppy eyes.

"D-don't look at me like that, Morgan. No is no."

The young prince only blinked adorably, making Lucina avert her eyes as her conviction wavered.

Cressida chuckled at the exchange, always amazed at how well the two of them got along as siblings and as cousins to Owain. Despite all those years they spent away from each other, their bonds never wavered, as though something as fickle as time couldn't even scratch the depth of the ties that bound all of them.

"You said you brought a 'charm', but that's quite a bag you're holding there, Sir Morgan." Cressida said, putting the table for the tea. She had witnessed that same exchange happen at least every other day, so she quickly got used to it.

"Oh, allow me to help." Lucina let go of Morgan's ear and stepped inside to fetch the plates and cutlery. They had arrived a little bit before lunch time, and they knew Owain would eat at home instead of the barracks.

Morgan looked at the bag he carried and shrugged. "Well, uncle Frederick asked us to bring another thing he sewed -- you won't believe how intricate the design is! I bet he could make a name for himself in the sewing world if he weren't a knight."

Cressida froze on her step, an eyebrow twitching in response.

After the initial shock of surprise and happiness from finding out that he would be a grandpa, Frederick showed up at their doorstep at dawn the next day with a hand-knitted winter set for a newborn baby. It had little gloves and socks and everything; it was the picture of adorableness.

It actually made the bow knight tear up a bit, feeling that her pregnancy was something real and that she was going to meet her and Owain's child in the near future.

Once again she felt like that the next morning as Frederick brought yet another set in different colors, the little baby’s cap graved with the words 'the best grandchild in the world'. She would stare at it and laugh for the weeks to come, but it kept happening.

Every single day since Cressida announced that she was pregnant did Sir Frederick give them something he sewed himself. "He's gonna put the local seamstress out of business," she joked one time, two months after his first present. "... How much yarn is he gonna use? I'm sure he bought everything in Ylisse by now," she sighed deeply after the fourth month, wondering where she's gonna keep so many presents.

Frederick wasn't dumb -- he knew that the clothes of a child, of a baby, no less, wouldn't have a great lifespan. Children grew up quickly, after all. After the first dozens of sets for newborns, Frederick began knitting clothes of varying sizes, so Owain's child would never want for clothes as they grew up.

Cressida felt a droplet of cold sweat itching down her temple, Morgan's words echoing through her mind.

"Lady Cressida?" Lucina tilted her head to the side, taking the plates the bow knight carried. "Are you feeling well? You look pale!"

"Oh wow, it's true!" Morgan put the bag over the couch and trotted to his cousin-in-law, taking her by the hand. "C'mon, let's sit here for a bit, you much be so tired!"

The prince guided her to the very same couch the bag was at, making Cressida's eyes spin. It was as though a swirling energy was emanating from the bag, almost bringing her physical pain.

Frederick didn't simply give them one piece of clothing every day, but a SET of clothing every single morning. Sweaters, socks, belly-warmers, gloves, bonnets, pants... take your pick.

Owain and Cressida's house was a simple one; they didn't have many rooms nor did they have space at the back garden to build an extension, and Frederick's growing pile of presents was already starting to take room they didn't have.

It didn't fit in the baby's closet anymore. Nor did it in their closet. There were baby clothes even inside Owain's herb cabinet! He needed to juggle between his potion-making tools, herbs and a little baby sock that randomly found its way in there.

They sometimes found little wool shorts and tiny gloves at the weirdest places. "I found this little belly warmer under the sink... and this single sock outside at the garden. How did they end up there?" She asked Owain one day, to which he replied that they must've been cursed by the Wool Spirit.

His Father had looked in god's eyes and decided to ignore the plea of thousands of seamstresses who were most likely out of a job by now. Nothing Lissa, Owain or even Chrom said could stop him at this point, and by now Cressida was resigned in accepting everything.

Gulping, the bow knight looked at the bag, its dark energy making her stomach turn. That single thought made her shoulder sag, however. Look at me, she thought, I'm even seeing 'dark energy' in a harmless bag. Maybe Owain's finally rubbing off on me.

"Behold, for this Owain Dark has arrived!" As if on a cue, Owain yelled from outside, skipping through the front stepping stones towards the open front door. "Oh? What manner of evil doers dare to step inside my shrine of redempti- GASP!!" He threw his hands in the air in an extravagant gesture as Morgan dramatically took one hand to his face. "We meet yet again, my mortal allyversary!"

"This time, I shan't lose!" Morgan pointed. "Once our eyes meet, it's time for battle!"

"Stop making a ruckus in other people's house." Lucina bonked her brother on the head, once again pulling him by the ear. "I'm delighted to see that you are well, cousin."

"Our epic battle, interrupted by she who bears the Light Brand!" Owain got on his knees. "Whenever shall we have our bloodthirsty showdown, O fellow Fallen One?"

Morgan massaged his head with both hands, but still managed to laugh. "The conclusion to our thrilling saga... will need to wait for... another day." He paused dramatically, looking at the horizon through the small window, the draft that followed only enough to lift a few strands of hair.

"Oh, look, Owain, Sir Frederick brought another sweater." Cressida's voice filled the theatrical silence as she took the small garment, sized for a child of age 10, out of the bag. "Delightful."

That brought actual shivers down Owain's spine. "H-haha... Father is at it again, I see."

"He never misses a day." Cressida's voice didn't have any strength in it. "It's been five months." She sighed, then shook her head as she put the sweater back inside the bag. "What was that charm you said you brought, Sir Morgan?"

"Hm? Oh yeah! It's actually here with me, haha!" He ran his hands through his pockets, finding a little round bell on a string. "Mother said that this is really good to catch the baby's attention when they're overwhelmed with all the new things around them!"

"Oh, I... actually remember that." Lucina mused as she gazed softly at the bell, her hand still on her brother's ear.

"Eh? Really? She used it on you, Sis?" Morgan gasped, handing the bell to Cressida. Lucina snorted.

"Of course not, silly. She used it on YOU. Sometimes I would catch her jiggling a bell akin to this one over your crib when I was young. Sometimes I thought that she thought you were a cat..."

"Hah, I'm sure I'll need this, then." Cressida took the little bell to her chest, smiling softly despite feeling the dark energy coming from the sweater right beside her. "If she's anything like her father, I know I'll need to distract her with something."

"She?" Lucina and Morgan tilted their heads to the side. "Did you ask someone to see the baby's gender?"

"Oh, excuse me." Cressida covered her mouth, embarrassed. "I just... feel like it's gonna be a girl. Don't mind me, now."

Used to how his wife referred to their child as 'she', Owain helped her up. "If Mighty Cressida, she who bears the chosen one, savior of this land, says our Messiah will be a girl, who are we to argue? We can only bask in her knowledge!"

"That's true." Lucina bobbed her head in agreement, followed by Morgan.

Embarrassed by how well they took that, Cressida snorted. What a close family she ended up being part of!

The visits weren't limited to Owain's own blood relatives, either. The companions with whom he shared the adventures in Nohr and Valla would also drop by time and again.

One day, Inigo and Severa met on their way to visit, their spouses in tow.

"Ho? Finally being honest with your feelings, Severa? Owain IS our oldest friend, after all-" Inigo poked at the front door, a wide smirk on his lips.

"Humph." The mercenary turned her head to the side so fast her pigtails slapped Inigo on the face. "I came here because I'm worried about Cressida, is all. I know what she's going through, after all." She glanced at her husband, who carried their little baby, Caeldori, strapped on his back.

Subaki laughed after being shown in. "She was worried sick back at home. Saying that she'll need to teach Owain how to hold a baby because she worried he would drop his and such."

"H-hey- Subaki!" Severa hissed, stomping on her husband's foot, her face bright red.

Already expecting that, Subaki swiftly took his foot out of the way, making Severa stomp on the floor instead.

"Huh? What's so bad about being worried for your friend? Weird." Hana blurted out, quickly turning to Cressida. "Hah, I win! My belly's bigger than yours." She stuck out her seven months stomach, a proud smile by her lips.

"This is not a competition, love..." Inigo coughed, guiding her to the couch.

"What? Anything can be a competition if you put your heart to it!"

"Well, I can't argue with that." Severa nodded, still trying hard to step on Subaki's foot.

Snorting, Cressida started putting the table for the visitors.

"Hey, c'mon, we don't need these pleasantries." Finally managing to dig her foot on her husband's, Severa quickly ran to Cressida, taking the plates away from her. "You must be so tired every day, having to deal with Owain and stuff."

"Yeah, she tends to the garden while I'm not home- hey!" Owain took his wife by the hand to guide her to the couch, taking a while to understand Severa's poke at him.

Smirking, Severa knew her way around the house due to her frequent visits, and quickly put water to boil so as to serve tea. "What? It's the truth."

Before Owain could open his mouth to retort, a loud voice coming from outside cut him off.

"Cynthia, presenting herself!"

"Uwooooh! A fellow Justice Cabal member!!" Owain jumped out of his seat, running to the door. "T'was Fate that brought you here, Legendary Pegasus Knight, Cynthia!"

"Weh? It was actually my pegasus, but okay- Where can I put her? I don't wanna ruin your garden..."

"Oh, you can circle around the gate and tie her on that tree over there, see? Wait, that's not it! Cynthia! Long time no see!" He opened his arms.

"Just a second!" She ran to tie her pegasus on the aforementioned tree and quickly came back to double high-five her childhood friend. "Surprise! I came crashing down from the very heavens to bless your heroic child! Where's the bride?!"

Wondering what the ruckus was outside, Cressida stuck her head out of the window that was right behind the couch. "Oh? Is that the famous Cynthia the Hero?"

Immediately did the pegasus knight's eyes sparkle. "Is she the one? She has good taste!" She quickly ran inside, her pigtails bouncing on either side of her head. "Nice to meet you, I'm the Heroic Hero, Cynthia! At your service!" She bowed. "I actually met Owain once or twice back at the castle, but I never managed to take a day off to see you! Sorry it took me so long to!"

"Ugh," Severa rolled her eyes. "I won't need to add a cup for her, right? We already have one kid here and mine's a WELL-BEHAVED one."

"Oh? So you allow snakes in your house now, Owain? I'm very experienced in hunting them, you know?" Cynthia narrowed her eyes to Severa, never letting go of Cressida's hands.

"Hah, snake? Look who's talking! You're still wearing pigtails at your age!"

"You're older than me and your pigtails are LONGER!"

"Mine are fashionable, unlike anything you've ever heard before, I'm sure."

"Hey, are they always like this?" Hana elbowed her husband, amused at the bickering. Cressida wondered the same thing, quietly wishing that Cynthia could let go of her hand while they argued.

"Haha... pretty much." Inigo scratched the back of his head. "But they're good friends at heart, you know."

"Very, very deeply." Subaki added, holding little Caeldori on his arms.

"Hey, we're not friends!" Severa snapped.

"Yeah, don't lump me with this bag of unhappiness and- Oh my GOSH, IS THAT YOUR DAUGHTER? She's SO cute!"

"Bag of unhap- uh, yeah, she is-"

Cynthia quickly let go of Cressida and ran to the little baby who cooed and giggled at sound of her mother's voice. "Sooo cute! Peek-a-boo!" The pegasus knight poked the small puffy cheeks, "so unlike your Mommy, aren't you? Aren't youu?"

"Hey!"

"Hah, what a great display of camaraderie!" Owain laughed from the door, with both hands on his hips. Cressida raised one eyebrow in question, but kept her mouth shut.

She wondered if they would ever be able to have that tea.

They all ended up extending their visits to the last minute possible, though Severa and Subaki were the first ones to leave due to needing to tend to Caeldori. As always, they left a small present: a tiny feather hairpin much like the one Cordelia always uses, as well as the one Severa planned to give to her daughter once she grew out her hair.

Cynthia had brought a wooden rocking pegasus, always eager to recruit more girls to her Pegasus Knights. Hana and Inigo brought food they got as a gift after his latest performance at Olivia's stage.

"Haha, old companions are the best!" Still giddy, Owain did the dishes as Cressida lied down, exhausted.

The bow knight smiled, always happy to see how overjoyed her husband was whenever they had a visit. "I'm glad we came here." She said softly, not actually intending for him to hear it.

But he did. And he blushed as an embarrassed smile covered his face. "I can't thank you enough for agreeing to come with me, Mighty Cressida. We'll make this land our daughter's home, but we'll always remind her from whence her mother came from."

"Hmm... I don't mind it either way; it's not like I have many things I miss from Nohr, anyway." She shrugged. "Apart from some foods and sweets... Ah, crap, now I have a craving."

"Oh no!" Owain turned dramatically, spilling water everywhere. "My daughter's gonna be born with a nohrian sweet face!"

It was said that if the pregnant woman didn't eat whatever she was craving for, her child's head would be the shape of the food, regardless of what it was.

Chuckling, Cressida caressed her stomach. "Meh, I'll live. I don't know how to make it, anyway."

Owain looked to the ceiling, as though asking for divine intervention. "It is time... to call the cavalry." He said solemnly, closing his eyes.

Alarmed at his tone, Cressida opened her eyes. "Huh? Owain- what are you planning? Please don't tell me you're gonna hire another dubious-looking cook."

"Hey, that was one time! And he didn't look dubious, he was ragged by war and had three battle scars here-" He pointed to his arm, water dripping out of it.

"Before or after he tried to sack the house? I had to beat him up with a broom! Sir Frederick lectured us for two weeks after that."

Owain deflated, the mention of his father making him put his feet on the ground once more. "Hah, yeah, he was really mad, huh?"

"So, no more dubious-looking people, alright?"

"Fear not, Mighty Cressida, for I have only the purest people in mind! You shall see, mwhahaha!!"

"I'm getting worried..." She whispered to herself, "you are too, aren't you? Please tell Daddy that he's gotta talk to Mommy before inviting people over."

"H-hey, that's foul play-"

"She says you need to ask for her permission, too." Cressida said with a straight face, making Owain crumple on the floor out of cuteness.

"D-daddy will be good, he promises..." He lied down, covering his face. Just imagining both Cressida and their daughter ganging up on him made him feel overjoyed! DOUBLE the cuteness!

Nevertheless, Owain still wrote for two dear friends the next day, receiving their reply on the following morning. "Worry not, for your cravings shall be attended to, my love!" He beamed after reading the letter.

"So much mystery doesn't beckon you, dear. What is this all about?"

"Mwhaha... do you want to know? Do you truly, really, want to know?!" He smirked widely, wiggling his eyebrows.

Cressida turned an unamused gaze away from her husband. "Actually, nevermind."

"W-waiit!" Laughing, he took her hand. "Mighty Cressida wounds me again! But fear not, for this letter is open for you to read!" He pulled her to him, mindful of her stomach, sliding one hand behind her back.

She took the letter with a smile, but folded it and put it on his chest pocket. "It's okay, I'll wait for the surprise my husband so carefully prepared for me."

"I am unworthy of such love and trust!" He nudged her cheek, placing small kisses around her face towards her lips. They lingered on each other, simply enjoying their warm breathing, at peace with their life.

Their daughter was more than halfway there, and they couldn't wait to meet her!

Three days later, they were visited by the people Owain had called for previously: Noire and Brady.

"Behold, for they are the most astounding cooks you shall ever gaze upon!" He extended both hands to the duo, making Noire blush and hide behind the priest.

"I-I just like baking, is all. I'm so glad you called me, Owain! I can't wait to hear your poems again..."

"Ey, musclehead, take the bags inside already; there're fruits in there and they'll spoil if you keep 'em in the sun for too long." Unfazed by his friends loud behaviour, Brady pointed with his chin to the carriage him and Noire used to get there. There were dozens of ingredients there, alongside a few luggages. "We be stayin' for a few days, if that ain't much a problem."

"Dubious-looking cook..." Cressida blurted out, but quickly cleared her throat. "Uh, nice to meet you two, I'm Cressida, Owain's wife."

Brady choked. "Ey, tha's not a nice t-thing to say! I ain't the finest lookin' tool in the shed, but I ain't d-dubious..." He sniffled.

"Wait, are you crying ALREADY?" Owain came back from putting the fruits in the kitchen, "that's a new record, Brady of the Moistened Eyes!"

"P-please don't cry, Brady..." Noire patted his back, worried.

"I ain't crying, ya buncha doofus! It's just the smell of herbs' too strong 'round here. Let's haul ass inside already."

Cressida had heard about the mean-looking priest, but Owain never told her about his... tendency to tear up at any given moment. Later that evening, he said that he had 'vowed' not to say anything, though.

Still, the dichotomy between Brady's scowl, his behavior and the fancy-looking carriage that brought them there made Cressida wonder about his background. He wasn't a prince, that's for sure, since he wasn't at the castle... But was he a noble? That carriage had a crest and everything...

"Owain told us that you've been wanting to eat something from your homeland, Cressida." Noire started after everyone went back inside. "Oh, I'm Noire, by the way! I-I'm sorry for my manners..."

"It's okay, Noire. And that's right, but he really didn't need to call you guys all the way here for a silly craving... I don't even know how to make the sweets, anyway."

"Bulshit!" Brady started washing the fruits and vegetables. He was called there to make healthy and salty food, while Noire was in charge of the desserts and sweets. "A pregnant lady's wishes are final." He shuddered, remembering how even more bossy and prickly his mother, Maribelle, was during her pregnancy of this era's Brady.

"That's right," Noire concurred, remembering her own Mother and her mood swings. "Besides, you don't n-need to know how it was made; just tell me the general ingredients and I can try to recreate it!"

Smiling softly, Cressida sat back on the chair. "Well, if you insist, then by all means..."

Truly, she was blessed to be surrounded by thoughtful and loving people, so far away from home.

Though the taste of home came back on Noire's second try at the dessert. "You're REALLY good at this, Noire! You should open a bakery or something." Cressida mused, finally having her craving satisfied.

"By the beard of Ike! This is exactly like that sweet! You are a genius, Noire!" Owain snarfed down his portion with gusto, throwing a 'poem' in, as Noire liked to say.

The archer giggled shyly, hiding her face behind a table cloth. "Really? I'm glad you both like it so much. I just l-like baking, so I'm not sure about making it a business... Besides, I'm probably not suited to deal with customers." Her voice sounded somber, and Owain and Brady both felt a chill in the air.

Ah, yes.

Yeah, she's better off far from people who can stress her, after all. They nodded silently, taking the conversation in another turn.

The two of them stayed over at the guest room for about a week, and only left after writing down the recipes and where to find the best ingredients for them. "I-if you need me to bake something again, just send a bird! I'm always glad to help."

"I thank you from the bottom of my heart!" Owain bowed to the both of them as they left in yet another fancy carriage, making Cressida once again wonder about Brady's background.

"You have such good friends." She mused, holding his hand as they watched the carriage go.

"I do, don't I? I'm unworthy of them." He breathed out with a wide smile. "I'm glad I never gave up back then; I'm glad I fought until the end to fulfill my promise with Anankos... I'm glad to have gone there to meet you and come back here to show everyone the amazing wife I got in another world."

Cressida closed her eyes, her cheeks flushing slightly. "And to introduce her to the amazing companions you shared most of your life with."

"But of course! Now, what would milady want for dinner? We do have so many possibilities, after all!"

"Oh? Have you become such an accomplished cook in only three days?"

"You wound me, milady! I am the genius Dark Cook, Owain! Ask away and you shall receive!"

"Hah! Alright then, roll up your sleeves..."

Their days went by peacefully for the most part; though of course things would get rowdy whenever they got visitors (or another of Frederick's sweaters). Despite all that, Cressida's pregnancy progressed normally; and the bigger her belly became, the more nervous she and Owain -- especially Owain -- felt.

At that point, Lucina and Morgan visited almost daily, partly because they were worried about the both of them being on their own during the birthing, partly because Lissa compelled them to. Of course, Lissa herself visited and sometimes stayed the night, but she unfortunately couldn't be there every day. And that's what nephews and nieces are for, right?

During one such visits, Cressida started feeling unwell after getting up to put the tray back in the kitchen.

"I-is it coming?!" Morgan caught the tray before it fell on the floor as Lucina attended to Cressida, giving her space to breathe.

"I-I'm not sure? Maybe? O-ouch," she turned uncomfortably as Lucina carried her to the bed. "Yeah, definitely coming."

"Morgan, go call Owain, quickly! Tell him to bring the midwife with him. After you come back, I'll go to the palace to tell Aunt Lissa-"

"P-please, anything but that." Cressida held Lucina's hand as Morgan quickly ran out. "Can you just... stay here with me? Not saying anything? Owain and Morgan are gonna be loud enough."

Understanding falling into the princess' mind, Lucina's shoulders sagged as she intertwined her fingers with Cressida's. "Of course. Forgive me for not thinking of that. I'll stay for as long as you allow me."

"Thanks, Lucina, ouch." Cressida breathed out, strangely calm about it all. Maybe she would start freaking out once Owain arrived.

"Do you need anything? I'm a very good masseuse, you know."

"My back hurts a bit, so I might take you on that later, but for now I guess I need to, hufff... Breathe."

"Do you remember the exercises the midwife taught you? I witnessed some of the classes during Mother's second pregnancy, so I might be of use..."

"Yeah, I'm gonna need them, right abouuut... now." She huffed, hearing loud stomps coming from outside.

"CRESSIDA!" Owain banged the door open, huffing. He was carrying the midwife on his arms.

"Put me down now, dearie. There, thank you." The old lady said, patting her dress. "What a eager father he is, hm, Cressida? He snatched me from my home yelling 'BABY! MY BABY! COMING!' without so much of an explanation."

Cressida loudly snorted, covering her mouth so as not to laugh. "I can, uh, see that- ouch, haha!"

"A-are you alright?!" Owain ran to his wife's side as Lucina gave her seat to him. He held her hand, but was quickly thrown out of the chair by the midwife.

"She's fine, dearie. She's not even pale yet! I'll still need to fetch everything from home and call my assistants, if you excuse me..."

"P-please allow me to bring them all over. Stay here with her." He stuttered, dreading the thought of having Cressida be unattended for a single second.

"Oh, well, if you insist, dearie." The midwife sat back down, telling him to find her assistants first so they could bring everything they needed. "Also, you young man over there? Please boil some water, hm? You young lady can bring fresh towels."

Soon the royals scattered to do their assigned chores, the small house getting livelier by the second. As the midwife had said previously, the baby wasn't in much of a hurry to be born. It took Cressida a dozen of hours to finally be able to give birth to a healthy and loud little girl.

"It's really a girl! IT'S A GIRL!" Owain yelled louder than the baby's cries, his own tears falling unnoticed.

Breathing out, exhausted, Cressida looked at the tiny baby with fondness. "Finally we meet, Ophelia."

From outside the room, Lucina and Morgan heard the crying and exchanged a hug, their faces flushed and wet from tears. Every new birth was a new story beginning in a land now and forever blessed by peace! They couldn't wait to meet their little niece!

[thesweetblossoms]

Blossoming Pear Trees

🎼Breakfast at Tiffanys by Truman Capote, A Tree Grows In Brooklyn by Betty Smith and The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton, are a few of my favorite books based in New York City. In each, I learned about the charms, qualities and history of the port town bordered by rivers and saturated with hopes, dreams, ambitions, adventures and ideas, each framed within its unique time and context. These books careful plots, characters, storyline, setting and subtexts offering a sliver of knowledge, into the eras thinking, behaving, cultural nuances, as well as the animated energies and perspectives, that shaped and influenced such a complex and captivating town.

In Breakfast at Tiffany’s, I was struck by the fathomless quarters of the heart, the vivacious and inimitable character of Holly Golightly, and the sumptuous homage to the renowned Manhattan nightlife, rife with its glamorous habitués, black silk Givenchy dresses, cocktail soirées and scintillating repertee. I read The Tree Grows In Brooklyn, while living on Roosevelt Island. Within the pages of this delightful rendering of childhood memories, I was gripped by the historical flavor of Brooklyn, the memories of life as a small girl in a lively neighborhood, and the universal experience of being a child tempered heavily with the backdrop of a multicultural new land. The Age of Innocence, portrays another world within the five boroughs, it spotlights, the heady world of upper east side mansions, park avenue town homes, sea escapes to Newport and Long Island, the closely knit and highly structured world of the old New York elite, and the inevitable barriers that plant themselves, in the purest love stories. The book is strewn with references and symbolic meanings of flowers; ‘His eye lit on a cluster of yellow roses. He had never seen any as sun-golden before, and his first instinct was to send them to May instead of the lilies. But they did not look like her- there was something too rich, too strong, in their fiery beauty.’

Having studied and lived in NYC for eight years during my early twenties to early thirties, I often miss the alchemical rush, fearlessness, possibility, dreamlike and magical qualities of living and experiencing one of the great world cities. Thus, a setting in Manhattan brings back the memories of my own time in the city, whether in the faint refrain of notes of music drifting from long ago nights dancing, flirting and imbibing cocktails in Soho with my dearest friends, remembering the anticipation of getting ready for nights out, in short, white, party dresses, also sprinkled with hazy recollections of ending up at somebodies apartment watching the sunrise over the east river, or rainy, rose and iris strewn June walks in Central Park, or hot chocolate from a café near the Met Museum, or of teetering in four inch hot pink stilettos to law firms in midtown or Wall Street, or even further, back to my first night of Law School, crying myself to sleep in a dark dorm room in Greenwich Village, to the day I left, unsure of the journey as the cab carried me across the midtown bridge to the airport, Manhattan lit up behind me, my passage barely dimming its intensity or power. My first stop was to spend a few weeks in the South of France before moving to Vancouver. While those trillion and one lights in the epic skyline glittered farewell, I didn’t know that I would create homes soon, in Vancouver, Los Angeles, Toronto and in my current home in palmy, light saturated and desert bewitched Phoenix, all within half a decade of leaving New York.

Of course, when I miss the city and its aphrodisiacal properties, reading a lighthearted, expressive and engrossing book, such as Sweet Bitter by Stephanie Danler, is transportive and thoroughly entertaining. In this book, I follow the hectic, hedonistic, raucous, fast paced and party filled days and nights of Tess, the small town heroine who moves to the city with hardly any money, to work at a celebrated and iconic NYC restaurant. The most riveting elements of the narrative beyond the illuminating yet relatively common premise of being young, confused, riddled with anxiety about the future, driven to the edges of exploration and self discovery, are the careful and considered details that are painstakingly layered, by the author, like nacre accumulating on a shell, to create a picture of one persons bewildering unfurling of time and space; of developing a crush and falling in love, of connecting with other people through post work hours of heavy drinking and drugs, of everyday group camaraderie, of obstacles and of the costs of taking a chance, of being hurt by the many thorns, blind spots and fractures within reality and of times reluctance to reveal the truthful bitter notes of existence to the untried and uninitiated. Along with the protagonists evolving ability to understand her own capacity for work, of her desire to party, and to chase the object of her desire at the risk of rejection, we are gifted with a rich, informative, luscious, compelling and beautifully conveyed dialogue, steeped in knowledge, brimming with anecdotes and lush with poetic names of revered wines, sherries and champagne. Readers are granted an epicurean education into the sybaritic realms of hospitality, of torn figs, marcona almonds, black truffle laced risotto, of fine cheeses, of terroir, of perfumery and of the effervescence, of those who chase the ephemeral, whether in briny winter oysters, mornings commenced with espresso and closed with half discarded bottles of celebrated wine, in rootless love affairs and in risking everything for the intoxicating New York City moment.

Sometimes nostalgia hits in painful ways, like a cut, tearing skin when scraping against a jagged wall, yet when I see my little son who was born in the city, or my husband, whom I met therein, or my daughter, who might one day visit my favorite museums such as The American Museum of Natural History on the Upper East Side, I don’t miss it that much, I become lost in my current adventure, in baking the family walnut, chocolate chip banana bread, in cutting shell white roses from my balcony garden, in hiking in the charged desert and realizing with the grace of hindsight, the I found both heartbreak and love, from a storied place, and that it is as close to me as my breath and as dear as the Callery pear trees that bloom in the early spring along the proud avenues and reverie misted streets.

Dwelling here in the present, I vow to write more about flowers. For a petal and dew drenched reality accumulates hope, positivity, happiness, reveries, ideas and inspirations. One is potently healed by the generosity and brilliance of blossoms, from witch hazel sprays, to lavender soap, to jasmine and vanilla perfume, to dried rose petal dipped madeleines to countless other floral injections. To be among flowers, is our most natural and exhilarating state, whether it is a summer picnic by a meadow of chamomile and violets, or a October harvest of basil blossoms and cosmos, or a spring seaside hike bordering a swell of wild lilies of the valley. Yet, no matter the climate, reading about flowers provides a season-less joy and bliss to those who might stumble upon a pressed peach pink peony, laid lovingly in the pages of The Painted Veil by M. Somerset Maugham, or to the person who receives a catalog of old roses, featuring Chateau De Malmaison from David Austin, or the person that seldom tires of dreaming about flowers, lost in the liminal botanical sphere, content with the written words about these delicate creatures, no matter the coordinates of the sun, or the exact location of ones own heart, beyond the garden.

In between the hours of work and play, sleep and wakefulness, dancing and being still, writing and reading, planting seeds and cutting flowers, I conduct a search for signs from the universe, fully aware, that there may be many that we are sorely deficient in sensitivity, imagination and consciousness to perceive. Perhaps these subtle jewel boxes of illumination render themselves mute, appearing as the earliest streaked lavender, roasted sweet potato orange and bleeding pink dawn in the morning, the horizon appearing as we are struggling to rise and challenge the random slights of the work week, or it could be the jasmine flower you discover on the desk by your computer, turning striped royal purple as it dries slowly, learning later, that it was left by a fellow attorney who has knowledge of your love for flowers, or maybe, proof of grace may arrive, as innocuously as the black holographic star decals, a gift sent along with the romper room nail polish you purchased in the mail, or it could be from the positive occurrence of an overdue text message from your beautiful, talented and successful law school roommate in Los Angeles. However, they appear, the ones that please you the most, are the ones you should carry closest to you, for these may be the keys to unlock your dreams, discover your nature and decipher your heart.

Though I often encounter unbounded bliss, dwelling in my garden by candlelight, under the mist laced stars, calmed by the analgesic dance of the palms and the steady flow of the water fountain, I have discovered an equal passion for delicate, fine or potent pieces of jewelry. My earliest memories of jewels are of tiny, delicate, faceted gold bangles, from my grandmother, that I wore on special occasions or events. I remember them mostly from old pictures of when I was four or five living in Sydney, but also recently, when my mother gave them to me, collecting them from the locker, for my little daughter to wear. Other reminisces include the memories of the joy, ceremony and fanfare when my parents gave my sister and I, little opal earrings as gifts, or when my mother lent me petite ruby and diamond flower studs to wear before a party, reminding me of their preciousness and to return them to her for safe keeping later. Perhaps, just as the energy, vibrations, subtle magic, healing and alchemical qualities of trapped fire, air, water and earth exert their influences over us, working in tangent with the myriad other cosmic objects that comprise reality, the wearer of these exquisite, handcrafted and artistic pieces also alter, influence and change the mystical qualities of the jewels. For after, I wear a piece, whether an heirloom, a vintage piece, or a newly commissioned trinket, I sense a change, both in my self and in the inanimate stone and metal. The jewel and the bejeweled act in concert to chase and trap the light, the anklet bells drifting into the music, the diamond engagement ring quietly drawing two souls closer and the emeralds earrings annotating the laughter and erasing the tears. 🎹

[swanderful1]

Duplicity: Ch 1/?

Summary: Secrets shroud the homes of the idyllic Willow Lane. Its newest resident, Emma Swan is no exception. In a place where perception is everything, the facade begins to crack. And Emma finds herself staring down the deep, dark secrets that the neighborhood was built on and that nothing is as it seems. Not even the blue eyed gardener.

Rating: M

Word Count: ~5800

Notes: Hi all! Back with another one! This story came into my head a while ago and took some time to get out into an actual plot. Also special, special thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for being my beta and also telling me what a beta is in the first place since I’m clueless. 

The rest can be read on AO3 and FFNET

Killian Jones was better on his own.

Which was why he relished in the quiet of the morning before the rest of the world was awake. He contemplated this as he stood before an open window, a chilled breeze blowing through, wondering exactly when he started feeling this way.

Perhaps it was after growing up without parents.

Or it could have been following the death of his brother.

Maybe it was from losing the only woman he had ever and would ever love.

Being alone certainly did leave a lot of room for self pity, he thought to himself.

The air was growing warmer as springtime crept in. It was almost April now. The wind coated his bare chest and reminded him that his busiest season was about to be in full swing. Having a landscaping business in the north east meant slow winters but immensely busy springs and summers. The callouses that had just barely healed from the manual labor of the summer before were on his hand as proof.

He looked down the few floors to the streets below. A few early risers milling about, one or two people doing a clear walk of shame with their shoes in their hand, an old man walking his tiny dog. If Killian leaned forward out the window he could see into the building next door. It was that kind of area. Where each city block was a mish mash of structures packed together and converted into makeshift apartments for the influx of young people that had come to the central city part of Storybrooke in the past few years.

“Are you coming back to bed?” a low, feminine voice sounded from behind him.

Killian turned slightly to see the pretty woman who currently occupied the bed. She was still nude, all messy dark hair and big innocent eyes. She was far from innocent though, the way she had positioned herself amongst the mess of white sheets gave him ample view of her. Gracie, Lacie, Maizie, some name or other she had told him the night before in the bar that took up the building’s first floor below.

“No.” He remained curt in all endeavors of lust. “I wake with the sun.”

“Why is that?”

She was pressing him. An act that normally didn’t bode well for anyone.

“Because I don’t like to waste the day.”

“A day in bed isn’t always wasteful… if you aren’t alone…” she prodded. The woman rose from the bed, moving toward him as her bare feet carried her voluptuous form across the plank wood floors. Her fingers grazed his chest, barely skimming the place above his heart. For a second, Killian entertained it, briefly leaning into her touch. He waited to feel something, anything for her. But nothing happened.

Perhaps another time, another place, another version of himself would have found it endearing. But he was thirty years old and he wasn’t still naive enough to believe a roll in the hay with a woman he met in a bar would turn into an epic romance. Whatever rum induced haze had drawn him to her last night was now gone.

“I think it’s high time we said our goodbyes,” he said gently, taking her hand in his and removing it from his chest.

Normally he would have been gone by now, leaving the woman to awake alone in his usual bedroom above the bar. It was simple. A small studio apartment with a kitchen roughly ten feet from the bed. If you could call it that, the stack of mattresses was hardly luxurious enough to be called a place where one slept. A nightstand held a lamp and the woman’s purse, a dresser sat on the wall where the front door was. Other than that the room was bare. Empty. Despite its hollowness it held something to Killian. It was the room that all but had his name permanently written on the front door in place of the number. The room he had stayed in for nearly a year after he lost the remaining soul on this earth he cared for.

Below the apartment where Killian spent most of his weekend nights, there was a bar. One that was owned by his best friend Robin. The space was dark, even at this hour of the morning when the sun was rising to its height in the sky. The wood paneled walls a chestnut color, the black floors sticky with bottle caps and cherry stems, the stained glass light fixtures dimmed to a light glow, the haphazardly dispersed tables empty. There were no windows, only one door that offered a small peephole onto the street. It was dingy, it was grimey, but it had also been in business for a hundred years. Before it was Robin’s it was his father’s. It was a miracle with all the gentrification that it hadn’t been completely overtaken by the bloggers and hipsters that now roamed the city center.

“I see you’ve returned in one piece,” said Robin. Killian scratched behind his ear as he looked over to his friend, arranging the now clean glasses from the night before. The mirror behind the bar caught a bit of light as the sun cast a glow through the peephole. The Rose and the Thorn, read the white glossy letters. The bar’s only hint of its namesake.

“I learned my lesson.” Killian’s tongue felt the inside of his jaw where the tightness still remained even weeks later.

Killian had spent his fair share of nights at Robin’s bar, sleeping with nameless women who much like him just needed to get off and move on. For the most part the routine worked well, a night of unattached lust capped off by his swift departure in the morning. However, last time the woman he had slept with was under the impression that Killian was in love with her (he was not). When he tried to sneak out she had caught him and subsequently punched him square in the mouth.

“I take it you were kinder this time…”

“Aye, the perfect gentleman.” Killian smirked. The look on Robin’s face said he did not entirely believe him. “But I could use something cold, for the headache.”

“If you keep this up you’ll end up like our friend over there…” Robin stopped what he was doing and pointed to the man at the end of the bar. Half asleep. Beer spilled on the permanently sticky wood counter. “Bill hasn’t left that spot in months.”

Killian knew his friend was teasing, but there was something in his gut. A sliver of truth that made him imagine what he himself would look like in that position.

“Perhaps just a water for me then.”

“How about some food as well. You look a bit narrow. Are you eating at home?”

“Yes, mother, I am.” Killian rolled his eyes. It had been even worse when Liam was alive. His best friend and his brother hovering over Killian’s every move as some form of pseudo parents. Killian wasn’t much of a cook but he ate enough. Most of it was absolute garbage though.

If Robin felt the need to press him any further he pushed that aside. But the look he gave Killian said it all, he was concerned.

“I’ve been thinking of having your usual room steam cleaned and rented out as an Airbnb.”

“A what?”

“A room where people can rent out, you know, pay to stay here…”

“Why would anyone want to do that?” Killian took a seat at the bar. Pulling out one of the heavy old stools that looked to be on its last legs. Literally.

“You tell me.”

“So I’ve lost my spot for entertaining company?”

“There are car services now… you can literally use your phone to have a car take you to your own home instead of staying upstairs.”

Car services ran rampant in Storybrooke now that bars and happy hours were becoming so popular. It certainly made sense, to avoid getting behind a wheel after drinking.

“It’s just so much more efficient to use the apartment,” Killian said back. The truth was he didn’t want anyone at his house. His tiny, little house in the middle of nowhere.

“I only said I was thinking about it, and perhaps it would be good for you to date a woman the old fashioned way.” Robin didn’t meet his eyes as he said it, stacking the glasses along the shelf above the rows of alcohol. “You know, dinner… a movie… maybe a real conversation or two.”

“I don’t think I’m the dating type.”

“You were at one point…”

Killian’s jaw clenched and he looked up at his friend, who was only trying to help, but was also treading on delicate territory.

“Ah, Killian, what a surprise,” said Ruby as she walked out of the door behind the bar. Still, she had two greasy to-go bags of what he could only assume was Granny’s breakfast sandwiches in her hand. Granny’s was the local diner that connected to the bar via a swinging door. Killian caught a whiff of the food being prepared in the kitchen. “Luckily I picked up enough for the two of you.”

“Would you expect anything less of me on a Saturday morning?”

It was getting to be Killian’s only tradition. Burning off a week of hard work with rum, women, and sex.

“I would find it odd if you weren’t here actually,” she remarked.

Ruby had been a friend for a while. Ever since he moved to the area. She was a tough lass and worked hard. Most days she spent helping her Granny at the diner and then would come to Robin’s for tip money. That was how Killian and Liam had met them, just unwinding at a bar at the end of the work day. Twelve years later and the two were just about as close to family as Killian would ever have again. Everyone else was gone.

Killian devoured the sandwich in a few short bites. The egg and sausage and cheese wrapped in a buttery biscuit really hitting the spot. His head swirled but it didn’t feel like it was from his alcohol induced evening. No. There was something deeper there. He looked again at the man slumped over the bar. Sweat stained and heavy, alone on a Saturday morning with his face in a pile of his own spit. Killian found it hard to picture the man anywhere else. Did he have a family? A wife? Anyone?

“I’ve got to get going,” he said abruptly, standing from his stool. The morning was already too heavy for him. That was the thing with using indulgences to block out the cracks in the armor. They didn’t last forever, and when the fog cleared, when his body sobered, his situation was no different than the night before.

He didn’t wait for anyone to say anything else. Just walked out the door and around to the alley where his truck was parked.

Killian’s mind often wandered as he drove. It was hard not to when, 7 years after Liam’s death, there were reminders of him everywhere. It was Liam’s truck that he Killian drove down a nameless highway. It was Liam’s cheesy bobblehead dog that still sat on the dashboard. It was Liam’s trailer that he pulled behind him. It was Liam’s hard work that had started the business Killian hustled to keep alive.

And now with the surrounding suburbs becoming such a popular place to live, Jones Landscaping had been doing better than ever. All thanks to the wasteland of manicured trees and strip malls and chain restaurants all frequented by the area’s affluent residents. It was where creative souls went to die and he felt his growing weaker by the day.

The location had never been such a bother when Liam was alive, afterall it was his older brother who had offered him a job after Killian had been in need of an income at 15 years old. But as the city of Storybrooke grew more popular, the outer suburbs flourished. Housing development, one right after the other was built and that was where Liam saw there was a niche. He was smart, he had cornered the market all on his own.

“Only until I find something else,” Killian had said at the time, the mantra he recited in his head during sweat filled summers and grueling work. That was nearly fifteen years ago, and here he was still driving the old red truck with the massive trailer that said Jones Landscaping in black letters along the side.

It was his busy season. April. When the north east begins to bloom again after a rough winter. The leaves grow green on trees, flowers scatter the earth, and the air is warm enough to be outside. So most every day of the week he had somewhere he needed to be. Today he would be in one of the original developments. The houses growing larger and larger the further out he drove until he pulled up to the sign that read, Emerald Forest.

Across the street from the neighborhood Killian was pulling into he caught sight of the Gold Construction sign. Advertising their handiwork on yet another demolished woodland area to make room for more homes. Killian felt his hands tighten on the wheel, knuckles going white.

He took a deep breath and turned his head away to focus on the road. In due time, the truth would reveal itself. He had to believe that.

Once past the front gates, he slowly maneuvered through the neighborhood where the town’s Mayor lived. Killian took a few swigs from the coffee he had stopped for along the way and filled his lungs with deep breaths. Carefully, he attached his prosthetic hand then slid the gardening gloves overtop.

“Almost done with those rose bushes?” Regina Mills said from the back porch of her mini mansion. Killian was in the backyard, working along the pathway to ensure her mother Cora’s precious roses looked pristine. The Mills, Storybrooke’s First Family, was one of Liam’s original clients. Between Regina Mills being the town’s first female government official, her fiance Graham Humbert being the chief of police, and her sister Zelena being the superintendent of the school district, they had quite the resume.

Killian had come with Liam his first day working, the Emerald Forest neighborhood had been nothing more than a few half complete homes and dirt. The mayor’s house had been the first that was done. The massive white columned house required hours of work to get ready for the warmer months. The front yard, with its stately shaped shrubs that lined the brick walkway and delicately planted lilies, it was all Liam’s creation.

“Just about,” Killian said with as much patience as he could muster. The Mayor seemed to have a real ax to grind today. Being that she had checked on him nearly twenty times in the past hour. All while he mowed, weeded, pruned the backyard to her liking. “You will be the first notified when I am.”

He gritted through his teeth. But the Mayor was no idiot, she knew he hated to be bothered while working. Most anyone did not like to work with someone hovering over them, but for whatever reason it seemed landscaping was fascinating to people. He always had an audience.

This could be for a lot of reasons, he often thought to himself as he worked with eyes on his back. It could be because people wanted to ensure their yards came out the way they wanted. It could be because there was nothing better to do than be outside on a warm spring day. Or it could be because most of the women who lived in this neighborhood looked at him like he was a tall glass of iced water on an otherwise deserted island.

“Well, hurry it up. My mother will be home soon and if the bushes aren’t finished she’ll have to cancel the Garden Party tomorrow.”

Ensuring his face was still concealed from Mayor Mills he rolled his eyes. The idea of rose bushes causing anyone to cancel anything was laughable to him that he could hardly swallow his comment. But if he knew Cora Mills, and at this point he thought he did, she was serious about appearances. The world these people lived in was so small they wouldn’t know what to do when faced with a real problem.

A few moments later he was done. The backyard was pristine. The lawn mowed to the appropriate height. The weeds pulled from the cobbled brick patio and paths that spanned the backyard. The hedges trimmed to symmetrical perfection. He had other staff. His friend Will often assisted with the business. Robin worked occasionally when he needed the extra income. And in the summer months when school was out, Killian had several high school aged kids assist in the smaller tasks. But the Emerald Forest homes were easily the most expensive in the surrounding area, so he rarely trusted anyone else with this neighborhood on their own.

It certainly would have been nice to have an extra set of hands today though. Killian wiped his forehead down, now beading with sweat and headed to his truck.

While he sat in the front seat, he caught sight of a large moving van in front of the newest house on the street. One house down from Mayor Mills. Separated by the home of Granny, as in Granny’s Diner, where she and Ruby lived. The original houses that had been there had been torn down to make room for what was now a custom built, colonial style green monstrosity.

It was the house that the developer’s son would be moving into. Killian had been contracted to do the landscaping.

Neal Gold. Son of Robert Gold, the man who had built this neighborhood and most others in the area. As much as Killian despised the idea of it, heat rushing in anger beneath his skin, he knew that if he wanted to continue working in these neighborhoods he would have to bite his tongue and do it.

The house was a blank canvas for him, it had only just been finished structurally a week ago. It had been a while since he had designed anything from scratch. He had always been better at working than networking. Liam was the people person. But now he had to be both.

Killian had also been advised that the younger Mr. Gold’s wife would be helping with the design. Some activity for a bored housewife to distract her from the extracurricular activities of her future husband, no doubt. He had seen it time and time again.

He watched the couple from his truck for a moment, his curiosity getting the better of him knowing he wasn’t supposed to report to their house to meet them until Monday morning. The man had brown hair cut close to his head and wore jeans and a button up shirt. Even casually it looked expensive. Next to him stood who Killian could only assume to be the Mrs.

His eyes were drawn to her and he could not put a finger on why. She was certainly pretty, though he did not typically go for blondes. Perhaps it was that she stood out against the backdrop of the neighborhood. Her long blonde hair that hung down her back in loose curls, and jeans that hugged her figure. Perhaps it was her stance, that her crossed arms and unsmiling face indicated she was unimpressed. He wondered about her.

The next thing he noticed though was the giant rock on her ring finger. It caught the light of the mid afternoon sun and glinted right in his direction. Stay away, it called to him.

Taking a sip of water from his bottle he recalled the indisputable fact that he was better on his own. Living a life uncomplicated by any emotional attachment. And if that were true of his life he wouldn’t feel like such a goddamn hypocrite all of the time. Because his motivations were almost entirely shaped by the complications of his past, with his next move right now being no exception.

For as many times Emma had moved in her lifetime, one would assume it was a process she was unrattled by anymore. If she wasn’t able to fit an item in her backpack to move with her to the next place, it wasn’t important. Foster homes have that effect on a person. But now she had a lot of things, as was evidenced by the extended moving truck trailing behind her car. And her stomach was so unsettled she had to tuck her legs against it to stabilize the churning feeling.

“We’re almost there,” said Neal from the driver’s seat without looking over at her. Her husband had driven them all the way from the apartment they shared in Boston. The two hour car ride being the longest she had spent during waking hours with Neal since they got married six months ago. Her feet rested bare on the dashboard and she toyed with the watch on her wrist. The rose gold face of it catching the hints of sun. She spun her diamond ring on her finger to give her hands something to do.

“I can tell,” Emma replied looking at her new surroundings. She was a city girl, always had been. So when Neal told her they needed to move to the suburbs of Maine she almost lost it. Scratch that she did lose it. She had had left their apartment for three days, with absolutely no intention of returning, but then something changed.

Emma thought back to those three days. It was January in the north east, so gloomy and cold and snowy. She had contemplated moving, perhaps some place warm. At least for the time being. But it’s easier said than done when one grows up alone and has a shot at a normal adult life. Within those three days she had gone back to Neal, as she always did, and agreed to relocate with him. They were married after all, this was a person she had promised to be with. What else could she possibly do?

“So many neighborhoods,” she commented. The sight of each passing sign for yet another complex named after a type of tree or flower made her want to sigh. And when Neal turned the car off of the main road into a gated community labeled Emerald Forest, Emma knew she was approaching her new home. The fountain beneath the black cursive scripted sign was flowing and surrounded by flowers that had yet to bloom. It was manicured, it was symmetrical, it was unnatural.

“Neal and Emma Gold,” her husband said into the speaker at the guard’s tower. The fact that there even needed to be a security guard for an upper middle class neighborhood made Emma roll her eyes.

Neal looked over at her.

“It’s just easier if I used the same last name.”

“It’s okay,” she said calmly when in her head she was a bit defensive. Though, sure, plenty of women took their husband’s last name she clung to hers. Swan. She grew up with no one, and no roots, her last name was all she had of her past.

A buzzing sound as the gates opened brought Emma’s gaze forward, and she watched as her new home was revealed in front of her. The street was quiet, save for the sound of running kids and automated sprinkler systems to keep the lawns their perfect shade of green. On either side of the winding streets were sprawling craftsman homes of varying colors. Some had little distinctions to tell it apart from its neighbor. One had flower boxes, another had a white fence, some had shutters and others had porches. All well kept and pristine.

“This was the first neighborhood my dad ever built,” Neal boasted as they drove through. “It was done in under six months.”

“Your dad certainly works quickly,” said Emma.

Robert Gold was the most prominent real estate and construction developer in all of Maine. If there was neighborhood or an apartment complex or a strip mall in the area, chances were Gold Construction was behind it. The company carried a lot of weight, which was partially why they were moving here. Mr. Gold was getting older, and who could he trust to run his company after he was gone but his only son?

They pulled onto a small cul de sac, with only about six homes taking up the landscape. Emma looked out her window to the place she would call home. It was massive, far too big for two people. Everything about it dripping in excess. Emma had looked online at the place, the layout, the floor plan but now standing in front of it made it all more looming. It was sage green color, soft with white trim. A front porch framed by pillars spanned the entire front. She followed the lines upward to note the balcony on the second floor and the dormers jutting from the third floor. Evenly laid bricks made up the driveway and path up toward the house, but aside from the structure the area surrounding the house was bare.

“So the landscaping has not been done yet. I thought maybe you could brainstorm some ideas for that…” Neal said when they got out of the car. Emma stood on the sidewalk, she had not even realized her arms had automatically crossed until Neal’s arm wrapped around her.

It surprised her that after all of this time he still didn’t know that she hated the idea of having a yard. But she swallowed that. For now, anyway.

“Thanks.”

“Come on, Em,” he said taking her hands. His fingers toying with the diamond ring she wore on her finger. “I know it isn’t ideal but, we can make it home.”

Emma eyed him. Between the depths of his eyes, the furrow in his brow, the way his head ducked just the slightest bit so she was looking right at him, she noted the first trace of sincerity about moving her here. For just a second, she let herself believe it.

“Hi!” A chipper voice snapped Emma out of whatever daze she had found herself in. “Are you the new neighbors?”

Emma turned to look at the person who the voice belonged to, now only a few steps away. She had short, deep brown hair. Her round face framed by the pixie cut, and a smile that seemed to be plastered on.

“I’m Mary Margaret Nolan, I live right across the street with my husband David,” said the woman, with her sing song voice. Her hand pointed toward the pale gray farmhouse that faced theirs. It was cute, smaller, more civilized, and overflowing with plants and cheesy lawn figurines. It was the first sign of haphazard quirkiness and Emma decided she liked it.

“Neal Gold… and this is my wife Emma,” Neal chimed, shaking the young woman’s hand.

“Gold, as in, Gold Construction?”

“Yes, that’s my father. We figured moving close to family would be better now that we’re settling down.”

The word ‘we’ coming from Neal’s mouth was almost funny to Emma. This move had not involved a single ‘we’ effort.

But then his phone rang, and the dotting husband mask came off. The one Emma had started to believe in the throes of a normal conversation with a neighbor.

“Excuse me ladies, I have to take this.” And he was gone, moving just a touch above a casual pace toward where the driveway led to the garage.

“We were wondering who would be living in the new house, it was the only empty one on the street,” said Mary Margaret.

Her skin looked so soft, it reminded Emma of a porcelain doll she once saw in a store window. As much as Emma had her guard up being here, the woman seemed to radiate with friendliness. And not really in the bad way that usually made Emma suspicious.

“I like your gnomes,” said Emma, noting the several tiny garden figurines that were dispersed in this Mary Margaret’s front yard.

“Yeah, they’re cute. They kind of started as a joke between neighbors and I didn’t have the heart to get rid of them.”

So that was the kind of neighborhood this was, where everyone was actually friends. Emma had lived in apartments as soon as she was able to afford them… and apartment neighbors did not have the same friendly outlook this place appeared to.

It was too perfect, like even the bugs didn’t dare land on a leaf that didn’t belong to them.

The movers began unloading the truck, the sound jarring Emma from her fixation on the scenery.

“I see you’ve got some unpacking to do,” said the woman, drawing Emma’s attention back to her. “I’m sure I’ll see you around though.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Emma replied. And with that the woman was off. A bit of a hop to her step as she strolled across the street to her cute little house.

Emma’s eyes shifted in time to notice the approach of a burnt red truck. Whomever it was climbed out and began walking toward her just as Neal was. What was this a meet and greet?

“Emma, this is the new landscaper Killian Jones,” Neal said as he reached her side. She did not miss the shake of his voice as he said it. And the way his arm suddenly snaked around her waist. “He’ll be doing the work for the outside of the house.”

Emma eyed the man Neal referred to as Killian Jones. He was dressed simply, work pants and boots with a white t shirt. She surveyed him as anyone would, taking in his appearance. His angular face cracked a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His blue eyes.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said, his soft English accent surprising her. She hoped it didn’t show on her face as they shook hands. He had removed one of his rough gloves to reveal a hand that was covered in calluses and welts. Marks of which Neal had none. Sitting behind a desk didn’t naturally give you work-worn skin.

“Likewise,” she said tentatively. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Neal, who had his gaze on their touching hands.

She tugged hers away, wondering why in the world Neal would hire a gardener who looked like this. Had he not seen a picture? Sure, she was married but she wasn’t fucking blind. With his dark hair and rough beard. A hot gardener was the most cliche suburban thing she had seen on every tv show and in every romance novel. Not that she read them.

“I was doing some work across the street for Mayor Mills and saw the moving truck, figured I would introduce myself.” When the man offered explanation he looked directly at her... not Neal.

“I’ve given him some guidelines of what I want done but other than that you two have free reign,” Neal chimed in. Emma looked over at him fully now to try to detect any sort of test behind his words. She came up with nothing.

“I’ll allow the two of you to get settled, I have a few other things in the neighborhood to tend to today. But perhaps sometime Monday morning we can go over the plans?”

When Killian asked the question, he again looked directly at her.

“Monday works.”

“Excellent,” he said back, turning again to Neal. The second of decency where every decision made wasn’t passed through her husband, was gone. The two men shook hands, and Emma noticed that Killian still wore the one gardening glove on his left hand.

“It was nice to meet you, Mr Gold and...”

“You can just call me Emma. Emma Swan,” she said back proudly. Perhaps a little too proudly.

“Emma Swan,” he nodded. And with that he was off, walking away toward where his truck was.

Almost as soon as Killian had moved away from them, Neal’s grasp on her waist fell.

“That was my dad on the phone, before. I’ve got some work to take care of this afternoon, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to her temple that burned more than it soothed. “Make sure the movers are careful not to drop anything.”

“Is it absolutely necessary that you go? What could possibly be so important right this second?” she pried.

“Em, I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t important, okay?” he looked at her, probably wondering where this side of her was coming from.

An odd feeling settled over Emma as Neal climbed into the Range Rover and drove off. She looked around at the neighborhood and then at the house she would be living in again. As a young girl, she had ached for this kind of life. The kind of stability that came from living in a safe part of town. A nice, big house with a front porch and a husband who ensured her life was secure. She would try to enjoy it. It could be lovely, if she found a way to personalize it like that Mary Margaret had to her home. And Emma supposed in time she would have to get to know her surrounding neighbors. But for right now she settled on looking at them from a distance. After all, everyone had a story.

The cosy, cottage like yellow house next door that had an older woman on the porch in a rocking chair.

The stately all white monstrosity that sat next to it, where a little boy played in the front yard.

The pale blue one with a white arched gateway at the sidewalk, a small dog running about in the front yard with two little girls.

The fun, farmhousey one that Mary Margaret and her husband lived in.

Emma made her way up the front steps of the house. Entering the stale foyer, with its gray tile floor and white walls that extended upward two floors to a skylight. No one had lived here yet, she and Neal would be the first. They would fill this house with all of their things. And as she watched the moving crew carry box after box, couches and chairs, bed frames, dressers, she thought of how their physical belongings were the only things that would fill the house.

Between them, they had a lot of ‘things’. Neal had been in her life a long time. They were both nearing thirty, so it had been years since she first met him when she was 17 years old.

The irony was not lost on her that the longest running relationship she had with anyone, was a complete and total sham.

[greenchesedragon]

Fic Recs!

This is a multi-fandom fic rec at the request of @kindvillains, an amazing friend, I am sorry for the delay! It features Bagginshield, Hannigram, Brienne x Jamie, and Reylo (just a little bit, if you’re interested).

*These are my notes/comments/feelings/hopes/dreams.

It is really long, so let’s start under the cut-off!

Here comes: Bagginshield!!! (I will die with this ship in my heart).

The Oak and the Ash by sunryder – 66.6K, M, complete, Sentinel AU

Bilbo Baggins was not a particularly talented Guide. He knew that. His family knew that. Every last Hobbit in the four Farthings and Bree knew that.

But that meant nothing when one morning an agony that wasn’t Bilbo’s ripped right through him, dropping him to his knees with a scream. Wrapped up in the pain there was a presence. Someone fierce and determined, nestling himself in the blank space in Bilbo’s mind for the barest of moments before he slipped away. It was like fingertips brushing across the outside fringe of his soul, and Bilbo wanted it back. Wanted him back.

And so help him, Bilbo was going to find him. His Sentinel.

*Never watched The Sentinel, but I love any fics surrounding. There’s a good Hannibal one too called Oddbodies by toffeecape.

Nothing Gold Can Stay by perkynurples – 296K, T, complete, Modern Royalty AU, slowburn

Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

*A classic in the fandom, but I didn’t like the Bilbo’s characterization. But! You should still read it because it is quite interesting.

Candid by northerntrash – 42K, M, complete, Photographer Bilbo (it’s a series!)

Thorin wasn't entirely sure why there was a six-foot candid photograph of him hanging in this exhibition, but he was going to wring the neck of whoever had put it there.

In which Bilbo is a photographer, Thorin an accidental model, and Gandalf just likes to make trouble for everyone.

All the comics by rutobuka! (The comics are have 0 word count).

Safe and Distant by Lindzzz – 45K, M, complete, Cultural Miscommunication, Post-BOFTA (it’s a series)

"Bilbo never bothers denying that he is a slight, little bit, probably infatuated with Thorin. It’s not something that bothers him. Really. He’s pretty sure that everyone very likely has a little flutter in their chest for the dwarf. He’s something grand and unattainable.

And it’s really much safer if it stays that way."

Something Blue by Lapin – 34K, M, complete, Marriage of Convenience (it’s a series!)

Thorin marries Bilbo after the Battle of Five Armies, a marriage of convenience, not love. Slowly, they must come to make the best of it, Bilbo resolves. After all, he's a Hobbit. They make the best of things.

And sow a star divided in us by MistakenMagic – 57K, M, complete, Star Wars AU

After his first successful solo mission, Jedi Knight Bilbo Baggins, trained by High Council member and full-time nuisance, Master Gandalf, returns to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. During an excursion to the sparring arena, he meets a group of Dwarven Jedi from Ered Luin, a mountainous planet located in the Outer Rim. Young padawans, Fili and Kili, are full of curiosity at this strange, barefoot Jedi, but Master Thorin, who appears to have the personality of a rancor and mental shields like blast doors, is less than impressed.

Tamâmebrulu Id-Mudtu by rutobuka – M, Post-BOFTA, uncomplete

As it turns out, even kings catch colds. After the reclamation of Erebor, Thorin finds himself confined to his bed. Luckily, his dear friend Bilbo Baggins is on hand to ensure he complies with Óin's strict orders for rest. (A multi-chapter Bagginshield comic).

*Just an example of a great rutobuka comic. Super long, amazing.

Oak and Mistletoe by HildyJ – 55K, M, complete, Erebor Never Fell, Fairy-Tail Elements, Shire AU

After a life dominated by a strange form of sickness, Thorin is sent to the Shire to seek a cure only Bilbo Baggins can offer.

*Another fandom classic, such a good read and super creative!  

A Most Sensible Idea by HildyJ – 76K, T, complete, Arranged Marriage, Pining

Bilbo Baggins isn't sure about this. Not one bit.

Frodo is definitely too young to enter into an arranged marriage with a dwarven king called Thorin Oakenshield. It's a good thing that Bilbo is there to chaperone him through their courtship.

After all, there's no chance that a fussy hobbit bachelor would ever catch the eye of a king.

*One of my favorite fics in the fandom.

A Detour to Your Heart by thekeyholder – 9K, G, complete, Modern, Epic Journey, Oneshot

Two strangers meet in the airport in Moscow a few days before Christmas. Bilbo and Thorin learn that all flights to London have been cancelled, so they have to find other ways to get home. An epic journey ensues through all of Europe, a journey which doesn't lack adventures. And maybe the two strangers won't be strangers in the end anymore...

Summer Flowers by acquileaofthelonelymountain – 17K, T, complete, Gardener AU

“So that’s your gardener’s name? Bilbo?”

“Bilbo Baggins, and he’s our gardener. Don’t give me that look, Thorin Durin! He’s been recommended to me by Gandalf –”

“Now that changes everything …”

“… and not only has he made great progress in the short time he’s here, but he’s also a very nice man and considerate enough to put some flowers in your room at your return although I warned him how … stubborn you can be.”

Thorin noticed the little pause very well. “You called me an idiot, didn’t you?”

Coffee and Floral Prints by etux – 3K, G, complete, Coffee Shop AU (it’s a series!)

When Thorin and his siblings are re-opening Erebor, an elegant coffee place in the better area of Paris, Gandalf Grey suggests expanding. But that would require hiring someone new, and Erebor has always been a family business.

Enter Bilbo Baggins, five feet and two inches of smiles with bright coloured pants and floral printed bow ties.

The Mushroom Mine by Chrononautical – 89K, T, complete, post-BOFTA, Bilbo Remains in Erebor (it’s a series!)

There are many trials for a hobbit attempting to make a life among dwarves. A hobbit wants a garden. A hobbit wants to eat regular meals. A hobbit wants friends, good books, and comfortable chairs. Bilbo does his best to carve out a little hobbit life for himself in the mountain. If only there were not one final obstacle. For a hobbit heart wants love, and among dwarves that is a sticky subject.

"Hobbits have a passion for mushrooms, surpassing even the greediest likings of Big People." - The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien

The Riven Crown by The_Kingmaker – 254K, E, complete, post-BOFTA, Middle Earth Politics, Everyone Lives

‘We may have won the battle, but I fear the war with winter is just beginning.’

The aftermath of war is no laughing matter. Those who died must be honored, those who are wounded must be healed, and those who remain need food and clothing, peace and sanctuary. With Thorin's life hanging in the balance, it is up to Bilbo and the rest of the Company to rule the rag-tag remnants of Erebor in his place.

Then there is the matter of the gold...

Can Bilbo save both king and kingdom, or is Erebor destined to fall deeper into ruin?

*One of my favorite post-Battle of the Five Armies Fics, it’s just really well-written and thought-out.

A Remover of Obstacles by MistakenMagic – 371K, E, complete, Modern, PTSD, Soldiers Bilbo and Thorin (it has a sequel!)

"Dis often chided her older brother for being a misanthropist. She did it so often it had become a term of endearment. It was true that Thorin struggled with people; he struggled to form and maintain relationships. Dr. Grey had diagnosed him with this and Thorin hadn’t the heart to tell him this wasn’t a symptom of his PTSD, it was a symptom of his personality. He exercised a sense of apathy with almost everyone he met… But Bilbo was different. Thorin actually found himself wanting to know more about him."

*An absolutely amazing fic - one of the best I have ever read in any of the fandoms. It is long and emotional, but complete worth it! Please, please read it!

The Winter of Discontent by Brass_Brassicas – 138K, T, incomplete, Shire AU, Kid Fili and Kili

Bilbo Baggins is not fond of company, and even less so of the company of children. Unfortunately, events conspire to force him into taking in two lost dwarf children with nowhere else to go. Eventually, their parents are bound to come for them, of that Bilbo is sure, and when they do, he'll be able to return to his quiet life.

Little does he know...

Glitter and Glimmer by DragonsinGondolin – 34K, complete, Modern, Singing Competition AU

Ardavision was the most famous song contest of Middle-Earth, and not only because it was the only one. With its abundance of glitter, ridiculous outfits, and pyrotechnics display, it was an event awaited with great anticipation.

All of the contestants headed to LakeTown this year, after the victory of Girion and his "Missing Black Arrow", and among them is one Bilbo Baggins from the Shire, as well as Thorin Oakenshield and his rock band Sons of KhazadDum.

Tension is boiling, and everybody is ready to slice their opponents' throats ... or so the presenters would like ...

Alone This Yuletide by Emsiecat – 91K, T, complete, Shire AU, Fake Relationship

'Alone this Yuletide? Irritated with prying and nosey family members?

I am an out of work blacksmith currently trying to make my way by any means necessary that does not involve my resorting to thievery (prisons are most uncomfortable, I've unfortunate first hand experience). However, if you would like me to be your strictly platonic companion for any social function, but have me pretend that we are in a serious courtship, so as to torment your family and ward off unwanted suitors then I am more than obliging...'

After becoming increasingly irritated by overtures of romance from various Shire residents following the death of his mother four years ago, Bilbo is more than ready to resort to desperate measures. That is, up to and including pretending to be in a serious relationship with a certain surly blacksmith currently inhabiting the Bindbale Woods.

It's a good idea after all; all they have to do is pretend to be in love over the Yuletide period and Bilbo's family and suitors will surely leave him alone after that. It's perfect! And nothing can possibly go wrong, right? Certainly nothing as preposterous as falling for one another for real...

*This is another fandom classic and it is amazing and heartwarming and totally worth the read!

Growing Dwarves (And Kingdoms) by Lumelle – 302K, T, complete, Post-BOFTA, Cabbage Patch Hobbits, Lots of Relationships (it’s a series!)

Sometimes, Bilbo finds, not everything goes according to plan.

First an injury and the coming winter delay his leaving Erebor, then word from the Shire leaves him mourning his beloved Bag End. And because getting added to Thorin's council isn't trouble enough, Kili is in love with an elf, Fili may or may not have his eyes on a certain little scribe, everyone seems to think he is a lady hobbit, and Thorin needs to find someone to marry.

Okay. So the last part might not be trouble, exactly, except for the part where it makes Bilbo's rather hopeless attachment even more painful. Or it wouldn't if he hadn't possibly accidentally promised to provide Thorin with an heir... and Dáin just might still be scheming something.

Fortunately, if there's one thing hobbits are good at, it's growing things. And Thorin did promise him a garden.

Imbalance by northerntrash – 10K, T, complete, Oneshot, Hades and Persephone AU

“He looks more like a dryad than the Lord of the Underworld,” the newcomer remarked, coldly.

In which Bilbo inherits the Underworld, Thorin can't get the hang of growing things, and neither of them have a clue what to do.

*Greek Mythology AUsssssss!!!!! (I really love them)

Hearts will as Hearts Must by determamfidd – 10K, G, complete, Post-BOFTA, Legolas and Gimli

The Dwarves are returning to Erebor reclaimed, and the elves uphold their promise to safeguard the caravans as they pass through Mirkwood.

One particular Dwarf has wit and spark enough to match Legolas Greenleaf - perhaps even outmatch him.

It's hate at first sight.

Double, Double Toil and Trouble by paranoid_fridge – 25K, complete, Hogwarts AU, All Teachers

Bilbo remembers saying no. And still finds himself at Hogwarts a week before term is about to begin, having tea with Headmaster Gandalf. Who has not only convinced Bilbo to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, but now wants Bilbo to join the staff Quidditch team as well.

Never, vows Bilbo.

Obviously, this results in him playing seeker for a team lead by ambitious captain Tauriel and grumpy vice-captain Thorin.

An Unexpected Proposal by Eareniel – 100K, T, complete, Post-BOFTA, Bilbo Rejected Thorin at 1st

As Bilbo sat smoking in his empty hobbit hole, he couldn’t help but wonder – when did his life become so boring? Or better yet – when did his old life stop being enough?

He suspected the answer to that question lay somewhere around the time when he had refused Thorin Oakenshield’s offer of marriage.

Recovery, Redemption, and Romance by Moonbeam (luvsbitca) – 118K, T, complete, Post-BOFTA, Healer Bilbo, Slow Build, Gifts (it’s a series!)

When Thorin is injured in the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo surprises everyone with his healing abilities.

Then as Erebor starts to rebuild he continues to surprise people with his knowledge and skills. On top of everything else that is occurring there is a dwarf king and a hobbit who might be trying to court one another without the other knowing - while their companions are either helpful or confusingly gleeful.

Prayers to a Broken Stone by Avelera – 104K, T, complete, BOFTA, Body Metamorphosis, Body Horror (there’s a sequel!)

Twisted by the effects of dragon sickness, Thorin banishes not only Bilbo but the entire company from Erebor. Days pass with no word from their missing leader and, fearing the effects the gold may have on the other dwarves, Bilbo decides to enter the mountain alone in search of Thorin.

What he finds may not be Thorin for much longer.

Or: In which the dragon sickness is slowly transforming Thorin into a dragon, and Bilbo must save him before it is too late.

*It’s a really interesting concept and fic!

The Changed Future Series by authoressjean – 598K, T, complete, Post-BOFTA, Bilbo Goes to Destroy the Ring

This is a complete redo of both the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings series. Here, Bilbo was banished from Erebor but learned of the true power of the Ring. His decision to carry it to Mordor changes, well, everything.

This is the story of how he does it, what becomes of the original company, how those who were meant to be kings will rise to their thrones, and how love, ultimately, conquers darkness and evil.

And then there are the stories of what comes after the great battles have been fought.

Primary relationships: Bilbo/Thorin, Legolas/Kili, Dwalin/Ori, Fili/Dernwyn (OC), Aragorn/Arwen.

*For months I looked for a good fic where Bilbo destroys the Ring and I found this and it is AMAZING! It’s like LOTR, but with Hobbit characters! I love everything in it, except for the fact that there isn’t really much detail about how Bilbo and Thorin fall in love, but it’s okay because everything else makes up for it. Full disclosure, I haven’t even finished it because it is so long, but it is wonderful! Read it please!

Planting a Hobbit by northerntrash – 13K, complete, Bilbo Remains in Erebor, Everyone is Insecure

Bilbo liked Erebor, he really did. Even if everyone seemed convinced he was going to leave.

In which soil causes international incidents, Thorin is over-dramatic, and dwarves are rubbish at keeping secrets. Oh, and they build a garden. Eventually.

Collapse by whisper_norbury – 58K, G, incomplete, Post-BOFTA, Shire AU

Thorin was closed and quiet, bent low under the weight of Fíli and Kíli's memory. For his two weeks in the Shire, he had never spoken of them, never mentioned their names, never told Bilbo how they had died—but the evening before the Dwarves were set to leave, the walls that Thorin had set up around himself began to crumble.

Plaits and Weaves by ArgentAconit – 40K, T, incomplete, Grooming, Dwarf Culture, Fix-It

Bilbo misses home, he misses his armchair and his books, but right now he misses his kitchen the most. If only he had something to keep his hands busy, he wouldn't so dearly wish he could turn back and delay their quest even more.

Fili is the first to take notice how restless he is, and quickly comes up with a solution. Bilbo, of course, doesn't seem to understand what he is being asked and how it would affect the company over the course of their journey. Or how it would affect one Thorin Oakenshield.

The Making of a Story by northerntrash – 16K, T, complete, Oneshot, Modern

When Bilbo finds a case of old family photographs, he becomes determined to find the original owners: what he does not expect is to become quite so involved in their lives, or that those photographs should prove quite so important.

If Bagginshield is my soul, Hannigram is my HEART.

A Hollow Ache by something_safe – 41K, E, incomplete, Tourist AU, Italy

AU where Will is a civilian on vacation who meets Hannibal while he's on the run in Florence. Of course Hannibal is incapable of keeping a low profile, so he immediately offers to play tour guide. They fall in love.

Bound by norgbelulah – 15K, T, incomplete, Viking AU, Historical AU

Will looked about himself. They were on a small boat. The warrior had been rowing, but now they drifted. They were not far from the shore, heading north. The sack of treasures from the monastery had been tossed haphazardly at Will's feet, which were bound. Will looked up, squinting from his aching head, and asked him. "Why?"

The northman smiled. "You were not afraid, little monk. I thought it was interesting. So, you will come with me."

No Regrets by TigerPrawn – 4K, T, complete, Oneshot, Tattoo Parlor AU

There were several things Will Graham couldn’t regret, though sometimes he was sure he should. It was something he was conscious of considering the amount of coverups he’d inked for people who had regretted their tattoo choices of years past. He definitely couldn’t regret buying this little shop, despite how much he really hated his damn neighbor - art and antique dealer (and unverified Count), Hannibal Lecter.

With a Crown of Stars by thehoyden – 33K, E, complete, Magical Realism, Wishbabies

When the call connects, Will says, “I know what kind of crazy I am, but I’m not this kind of crazy.”

“Will?” Dr. Lecter says.

“Yes, hi, sorry,” Will says. “It’s me. There’s a baby on my porch.”

*This fic. Is. Amazing. One of my favorite Hannibal fics of all time and I have read like hundreds of Hannigram fics. Amazing characterization, dialogue, and super interesting premise.

Silver Queen's Ficlet Collections by TheSilverQueen – 221K, G, incomplete, Collection of Ficlets

All of my ficlet collections. Because I have a LOT of ideas, and ficlet collections are the best way to churn out a lot of them and satisfy my chatty muse. Currently I have:

#Hannictober 2016 #HanniHoliday 2016 #HannibalEverAfter 2017 #SummertimeSlick 2017 #Hannictober 2017 #HannibalHallow 2017

*So, The Silver Queen is super creative and has really interesting and has well-written ficlets. All his/her collections are amazing! Totally worth the read!

Finders Keepers by beforethedawn, ConstructFairytales, Destinyawakened – 44K, E, complete, Nigel (Charlie Countryman)/Cal Roberts (it’s a series!)

Cal Roberts is in charge of setting up a compound in Romania. An earthquake hits, and he and his team go to help victims and to search through rubble. When he helps a gruff Romanian from certain death, he never expects his life to turn upside down completely.

*So, this is a rarepair, but it is really good! These authors are really active in the fandom and have a ton of rare-pair fics. It’s good when you’re in the mood for something different!

One, two, three by Severus_divides_into_H – 61K, M, complete, Hunger Games AU

Will imagined his death in numerous ways, numerous times. Being chosen as a tribute opened a road of new possibilities, some more horrifying than the others.

He doesn’t want to be torn to pieces like Randall Tier’s prey. He doesn’t want to be burned like Francis Dolarhyde prefers to kill. But most of all he doesn’t want to be caught by Hannibal Lecter, a career tribute with a penchant for eating his victims alive.

Too bad Hannibal seems fixated on him.

*This is the most amazing Hannibal Hunger Games AU! I loved it! Amazing ending. Super romantic.

Waiting for Winter by weconqueratdawn – 6K, T, complete, Post-S3, Cabins, Injury Recovery, Amnesia (there’s a sequel!)

Hannibal wakes up in Will's cabin, still in recovery after the fall and with little memory of what came after. They both wait - Will for Hannibal to be well enough to leave, and Hannibal for Will to make choices.

The footsteps Hannibal heard from behind him were confident, unhurried. Sounds of clothing being removed and tools put neatly away accompanied them. Whistling too, low and musical.

Will walked into the cabin, behind the sofa bed upon which Hannibal lay, and began filling a tin kettle at the sink. The scents of outdoors followed him - soft clay earth, brackish water, burning leaves.

Hannibal remained still, waiting.

The whistling stopped suddenly. He felt Will approach, cautious now, to lean over the back of the sofa. There was a long moment, filled only by the steady deep thrum of blood through his veins.

“You're awake,” he heard Will say softly.

Two Solitudes by emungere – 54K, E, complete, Post-S3, Canadian Shack, Slow Burn

After the fall, Will drags Hannibal out of the Atlantic and they find their way north to a remote part of Labrador, where they try to make a life together.

*It’s by emungere, need I say more?

The Fault in my Code by LiaSo – 90K, M, complete, Soulmate AU, Incarcerated Hannibal, FBI Will Graham

Soulmate AU: Soulmates find their other half when they look into their eyes. After the next time they sleep, they wake with one eye the color of their intended.

Will Graham avoids eyes. He's never wanted a soulmate, never wanted to be told by the universe who he was supposed to feel a connection to. He already struggles enough with connections, thank you very much. As a psychiatrist, he works with soulmates who have lost their other half through various means, part of a social system that regards the journey to your soulmate as the most important thing a person can do. Coerced by Jack Crawford to consult on a case where the assailant is targeting soulmates, Will finds himself turning to the notorious Dr. Lecter to gain insight on how he's choosing the soulmates to target.

Things go horribly awry when he looks into Hannibal's eyes, though. The next morning, he wakes up with one eye blue, the other maroon. He's never wanted a soulmate, least of all one behind bars for murdering dozens of people and eating them. Hannibal thinks it's delightful -it's been dreadfully boring since he was locked up.

Romance, thriller, mayhem, mystery, soulmate au with a realistic twist, and a grumpy Will Graham

Dark of the Moon by beforethedawn, ConstructFairytales, Destinyawakened – 80K, E, complete, Werewolf AU

A wolf. The man, Will Graham, lowered his gun just a notch, watching the animal who didn’t seem to want to attack him or his dogs. He shot off a warning round just in case, away from the beautiful beast. He didn’t want to hurt it, just get him away from his house.

In response to the gun blast, the wolf merely blinked, and tilted his head at Will, appearing nearly amused. He laid down, with poise, making it clear that he was not about to charge the house, not about to attack. It seemed that the magnificent looking wolf was merely curious.

Identically Different by Pragnificent (PragmaticHominid), sparkyhero – 14K, complete, Role Reversal AU (it’s a series!)

AU where Hannibal is an FBI profiler troubled by his own potential for violence and Will is a psychiatrist and serial killer.

*The best and most thorough and lengthy role-reversal AU, really interesting!

Faded Fantasy by Phenobarbital – 82K, E, complete, Post-S3, Sexuality Crisis, Really Slow Burn (there’s a sequel!)

Hannibal navigates his way through Will's heterosexuality...

*Really slow, slow burn with angst, but really well-written.

Eating Daisies by TigerPrawn – 13K, E, complete, Pushing Daisies AU

Hannibal is a talented pie maker gifted with the mysterious ability to reanimate the dead by touching them. However, this gift comes with conditions. Hannibal quickly learns that if something is revived for more than exactly one minute, a life of similar value in the vicinity dies in order to maintain the balance of life and death. The apparent power of a god is not all it seems, when a second touch will permanently kill the revived person. Hannibal has come to live with this condition and use it in order to assist in the making of his infamous meat pies, however life becomes complicated when he revives the serial killer Will Graham.

*I love Pushing Daisies so much, so I love this fic!

Wounds of War by Ghostwriter98 – 21K, E, complete, Child AU

Hannibal Lecter is haunted by the death of his sister. Robert Lecter responds in the worst possible way by adopting another child as a substitute for her. Hannibal is instantly filled with rage at the sight of the chosen orphan, Will Graham, and vows to despise him. Unfortunately, nobody ever told Hannibal that there's a fine line between love and hate.

Greencard by Devereauxs_Disease – 30K, E, complete, Green Card Marriage, Spacedogs, Nigel (Charlie Countryman)/ Adam Raki, 90s Romantic Comedy Remake

Adam is about to lose his apartment. He can't bear the idea of leaving the only home he's known. Luckily, the building's super, Mr. Dalca, has a proposal: Marry his friend Nigel so that Nigel can get a Green Card and stay in the country. It's a simple deal - Adam won't even have to live with Nigel. But when the government starts checking on whether or not Adam's marriage is legit, he's forced to live with a husband he never wanted. Will they make it work? Or Will they kill each other?

*I love Spacedogs and this was just the cutest fic. By the way, Debereauxs_Disease is an amzing writer with great fics.

All of Me by LittleUggie – 8K, E, complete, Oneshot, Victorian AU, Crime Lord Hannibal

Will sneaks into Lord Lecter's house to make a deal.

*Summary may be short, but it’s a well-written fic.

Dragon's Keep by LittleUggie – 2K, G, complete, Dragon Hannibal, Fairy Tale Elements

Prince William is cursed. It's really not all that bad.

*The series this fic is a part of is also worth checking out!

Attachment by Pragnificent (PragmaicHominid) – 24K, complete, Kid Fic, Parent Will Graham

Hannibal is out shopping when the small boy runs up to him and bites him on the hand.

It is not a playful act. The child bites hard, and then he grinds his teeth in and holds on.

There is for Hannibal a moment of outrage, in which he considers striking the child to knock him away. Hannibal’s face curls, for just a microsecond, into a snarl, and astonishingly he realizes that the boy, who is looking up at him with fearsome defiance, his jaws still locked around the side of his hand, has not missed this.

Hannibal sets his face to communicate a shocked but stoic response to the assault, and this is what his father sees, when perhaps three seconds later he crouches next to the boy to coax him into loosening his hold.

AKA, the one where Will is the single father of a troubled little boy, and Hannibal is enchanted by them both.

Irrepressible by PKA – 47K, E, complete, Post-S3, Slow Burn

Will tries to figure out his own desires after the fall. Hannibal is eager to help him in rather unorthodox ways. An exploration of touch, murder... and dogs.

*I love this author’s writings! Check them out!

Mono No Aware by bluesyturtle – 89K, E, incomplete, Post-S3, Chiyoh

Falling off a cliff into the ocean is a really dramatic way to do a baptism, but our boys never do anything halfway. Chiyoh, naturally, is very annoyed with both of them.

*So, this fic is absolutely amazing, but it is very sporadic in updating. IT’s so well-written and thought-out though. Chiyoh plays a central element along with Japanese culture. Even though it is currently incomplete, such a great read and a wonderful post-season 3 fic!

nice hannibal ficlets by emungere – 33K, E, complete, Domestic Fluff, Hannibal is Not a Cannibal

Premise: What if Hannibal weren't such a dick?

Price by emungere – 5K, E, complete, Oneshot, Escort AU

Enter Will Graham, escort in D.C. providing the powerful men of Capitol Hill what they need because he knows them better than they could know themselves.

Something Almost Pure by blind_bombshell – 20K, E, complete, Elias (Men & Chicken)/Adam Towers, Hobbit AU, Basic Chickens

Adam Towers is set to inherit a sizeable tract of land and thus must make nice with his dear old auntie while she lives -- but she's gone and hired a handyman from North Ork Oak that, quite frankly, Adam can't wait to devour.

(Aka. the Basic Chickens Hobbit AU fic)

*Hobbits and Hannibal? How could I not read this fic and you should read it too!

One of the most tender ships in Game of Thrones: Brienne x Jamie!!!

Footsteps by ellaria – 10K, E, complete, Modern, Prison AU

The worst thing about Harrenhal Federal Correctional was Jaime Lannister.

*Brienne is wrongfully convicted, and Jamie is in this weird guy/girl jail too. It’s a great fic!

Ugly Pretty by seamscribe – 46K, E, complete, Modern, Photographer Brienne, Fashion & Models AU (there’s a sequel!)

This Brienne girl looks down at her hands and slowly says, “I’m guessing Margery told you I was a model and then added photographer. She told you I was--” She gives a long-suffering sigh. “Ugly-pretty. Then she forbade you from Googling me.”

The Rules of the New Year by WackyGoofball – 28K, T, complete, Oneshot, New Year’s Eve Party, Manager Brienne, Modern

Jaime comes home to a big surprise.

Only to meet event manager Brienne of Tarth.

Misunderstandings. Complications. Power outages. Champagne pyramids. Glow sticks.

And a firework. Well, obviously.

The Last Time They Met by WauryD – 8K, G, complete, Modern, Reincarnation (there’s a sequel)

An unappealing visit at the museum turns into an odd connection.

Now I See You by Captain Tarthister – 50K, E, complete, Modern, Hollywood AU, Director Brienne, Actor Jamie

Brienne Tarth is an ambitious, talented director about to make her first feature-length mainstream film. Jaime Lannister is a temperamental but critically-acclaimed actor returning in front of the camera after a devastating accident. But having to shoot a sensitive scene makes Jaime split for parts unknown. With the delay costing the production millions and her career about to go up in smoke, Brienne all but tears Westeros apart to find Jaime.

Reylo: Featuring Rey of Jakku and Ben Swolo (I love this name)!

Janus by englishable – 48K, G, complete, Modern, Roommate AU, Mental Illness

She moves into the apartment beside his, with her flowers and her singing and her brisk optimism, and Ben Solo knows himself just well enough to realize that a person like him really shouldn't have anything to do with a person like her. His good friend Snoke, of course, has other plans, because he gets a certain enjoyment from watching Ben - Kylo Ren, rather, as he calls him - screw things up. Which Ben inevitably does: but that's not where he wants them to end, and maybe Rey doesn't either.

*So, I dabble in the Reylo fandom and I have read a lot, LOT of Reylo fics. But, this is my absolute favorite. Nailed the characterization. Nailed the angst. Nailed the conflict that is Ben Solo/Kylo Ren. It is amazing and, if you only read one Reylo fic in your life, read this one.

I Can Teach You by Verisimilitude (Wolfy_Tales) – 8K, T, complete, Oneshot, Modern, College AU, Professor Kylo, Student Rey

Rey needed to fulfill a humanities requirement. Clearly Professor Ren needed to fulfill a torture requirement from the dark lord himself.

*Not as kinky as you think, trust me (pervs), it’s a really good modern Reylo fic.

Within Monsters by AnonymousMink – 132K, M, complete, Technician Rey, Apprentice Rey, Semi-Slow Burn, Before The Force Awakens, AU

This is the last place she ever thought she’d end up.

When work dries up on Jakku, a desperate Rey enlists with Galactech-- a tech company who will hire anyone with the right skills, and work for anyone for the right price. Now trapped onboard the Finalizer, Rey is both horrified and fascinated by the dark tales she hears about the leader of the Knights of Ren and the mysterious Force he controls.

But, when a chance encounter awakens a power within her she has never known, it may just be Kylo Ren’s fascination with her that becomes her undoing.

Miles From Where You Are by Mooncactus – 29K, T, complete, Modern, Online Friends AU, Star Wars Nerds

After an argument over Star Wars fandom with a "gatekeeping, entitled monster" with the cryptic username of KyloRen, Rey finds herself stuck in a series of unavoidable video calls.

Serotonin and Dopamine by pontmercy44 – 28K, E, complete, Modern, Mental Health Issues, Workplace Relationships, Social Anxiety

He could lie and say it was because he was gentleman, but that wasn’t quite true. “I – well, I want to take advantage of you. But I know better.”

Rey looked at him for a long moment, and Ben thought she might slap him. She didn’t. She started to laugh, shaking her head as if she couldn’t quite believe it. Finally, she said, smiling, “Goodnight, Ben.”

Ben turned and walked slowly back to his car. He heard her door creak open, but he didn’t hear it slam shut. It felt as if he was walking away from his chance, from his chance to have something good and uncomplicated and nice.

Ben turned around, and went back to the door. Rey waited for him, biting her lip. He took off his stocking cap and held it in his hands in front of himself. His ears were cold without his hat, but he was in the posture of remorse and penance. "I'm sorry. I'm an ass. Can I kiss you again?"

Lastly: my bookmarks on Ao3.

Which feature a lot, lot, LOT more fics in each of these fandoms!

That’s all folks! (insert that one image of the ending title screen on those old cartoons from your imagination) I hope this was helpful!

[fatesrolled-archived]

beth + relationship w her brothers ay

LET ME RANT ABOUT MY KIDS  ||  ( always )  accepting!

         to put it bluntly:  beth’s brothers are her world.  she is naturally close to her twin,  between being her sole confidante when her magic began to become more powerful and she made her ultimate decision to run away from home in fear of her father’s reaction,  to petty squabbles of  ‘ if you’re the older one,  how am i more mature than you ’,  but her natural nurturing instinct revealed itself when theric was born,  who she arguably babies more than her actual baby brother.

         it’s because of her brothers that the decision to leave home was so hard,  but ultimately,  she knew that it would be for their protection.  she feared her father’s wrath,  but she also feared what he would do to them if she had enlisted them in helping her hide her manifesting power. and when their parents died  let’s ignore the fact that she never got to say goodbye to her mom  beth took upon a matriarchal role in the family,  NOT because she was the only woman in the royal household alive,  but because she knew that a void was left by her mother.  she couldn’t necessarily fill that void perfectly,  but she could at least do her best to be there for her brothers,  especially valen,  who was still a child when xanaphia passed on.  but let’s break it down brother by brother shall we ?

        ILLYRIAN:  said simply,  he is her rock.  while she was off,  you know,  saving the world,  not only did illyrian help to keep their home safe from any potential attacks,  he essentially ran the kingdom in her absence.  not because she wasn’t ready for that leadership position or because she had other,  bigger things to do,  but because the kingdom could not be left without a leader,  and illyrian,  aside from being next in line should something happen,  was the obvious choice.  he has a heart of gold and a keen mind and is always able to see the bigger picture and the more important things in life,  while beth can sometimes get bogged down by the smaller things.  she’ll never admit it,  but she idolizes her twin brother and wishes some days that she could be just a little more like him.  he is her most trusted advisor,  her best friend,  and no matter who passes through their lives,  they know they’ll always have the others back.  plus,  he also took a finace off her hands by falling in love with him,  so that got rid of the arranged marriage she was also running from.  thanks,  twiny. 

          THERIC:  while beth’s natural nurturing instinct was revealed when theric was born as previously mentioned  ( he was her first true little brother,  because at that age of what equals to the human four / five years old,  her twin didn’t count ),  theric is a bit of a mystery to beth.  it’s not just that he’s the middle child and is,  tragically,  sometimes forgotten about,  but theric is naturally quiet and pensive.  he speaks when there is something important to be said,  and often has valuable insight on things because of this.  if illyrian is away or busy,  beth turns to theric.  they aren’t as close as the twins or beth and valen,  but she knows that he exudes a quiet but sharp wisdom and intellect beyond his years that will one day come in great use to matters of state,  should he chose to be privy and pursue them.  she wishes to know him better,  though.  sitting and reading together on cold winter nights doesn’t exactly do that,  but sometimes,  his quiet is a peaceful sanctuary for her to lose herself in,  but to also reflect in. 

           VALEN:  the baby of the galanodel household,  valen is a trickster by nature,  giving him the monkier of the WILD PRINCE.  he loves nothing more than pestering his older siblings and the staff of the palace,  and more often than not,  beth finds herself either a victim or a co-conspirator of his schemes when she has the time  ( and she always carves out time for her baby brother ).  she tries not to mother him too much,  but because their mother died when he was quite young,  she often has no choice in the realm of disciplining him for some of his nastier tricks.  don’t ask about the time he almost rode a griffon into one of the private greenhouses that help make up the extensive gardens of the jifthalas palace.  it was a nightmare of epic proportions.  the family almost delved into full on civil war.  STILL,  she loves him.  he may be a pest,  but he’s her pest,  and hopefully,  one day,  he’ll find some way to put his…  out-of-the-box thinking to good use. 

            tldr;  i could write a thesis about the galaonodel siblings but they’re as tight-knit as they come and i think about them way too often.