#but my life was not spectacular growing up. all I ever wanted was simple peace and some cats. nothing flashy.

[imwritesometimes]

I think, and this is gonna sound crazy but stay with me, that life should just get a little bit easier and softer and kinder

[biconicfinn]

Sam/T'Challa Headcanons

just some general headcanons for my faves <3

i dont remember much of the mcu timelines anymore but whatever have this post okay thank you

i'm thinking maybe they get together post-ca:cw, t'challa helps shelter steve, bucky, sam, clint, scott, and wanda in wakanda for a while so they can recover

obvs bucky goes into cryo and then i'm thinking maybe clint takes wanda under his wing and goes on the run, maybe scott joins them too idk i didn't spend too much time thinking about it

so it's just steve, sam, and cryo bucky

steve spends most of his time talking to bucky and moping and being generally Emo but eventually starts going stir-crazy so he turns his usual captain america suit into the nomad one, and heads off to go be a vigilante fugitive

meanwhile sam decides to stay in wakanda; he hasn't had a chance to just be in a long, long time, not since captain america first knocked on his door asking for a safe place. he stays in a small little apartment in the capital city, kinda near the palace so people can still keep an eye on him

over several weeks sam establishes a routine: wake up, go for a run around the neighbourhood (cutting through the public gardens at the palace), come back home and work out, shower, eat breakfast, go out on a patrol with the border tribe around the area, explore the city and practice xhosa along the way, check in with sarah, lunch, check in with steve and bucky, read, sleep, repeat.

he finds a purpose in the help he gives his neighbours, helping the older lady next door with errands at the market, telling the kids stories about what it feels like to fly with your own wings, joining the border tribe on their patrols around the city

occasionally he runs into the generous (and gorgeous) king who gracefully allows him to stay in wakanda in peace while running through the palace gardens

t'challa rises with the sun and often runs in the morning to get at least some form of training in; crucial on days where he's stuck in meetings

sometimes the two run into each other—once literally, and okoye never lets t'challa hear the end of how he was so very flustered by sam wilson taking off his shirt to cool off and the sight of him all hot and sweaty and half-naked made him freeze and run right into said man—and sam has to come to terms with the fact that getting lapped by superhuman attractive men (though he personally prefers t'challa over steve) is just his life now

typically sam opens their conversation with a cat pun that makes t'challa fight back a smile and respond with something so dry and deadpan, couched in the characteristic diplomatic quality he uses it takes sam a minute to reply and react

but when sam does understand, t'challa is met with a charming half-smirk half-smile that makes his heart trip and he relies on all his diplomatic training to remain neutral or at the most amused at sam's comments

the conversations grow slowly, from casual one-liners and sarcastic quips to sam's stories of riley and sarah and his community back in delacroix, and t'challa's anecdotes about growing up in wakanda

soon enough, what starts off as a brief conversation during a part of their respective runs becomes a standing daily routine run together, the two becoming fast friends, admiring one another's loyalty, dedication, honesty, and determination

of course, because sam and t'challa are sam and t'challa, the platonic friendship with a side of appreciative attraction slowly becomes a crush

and it's not just the funny stories and misadventures they share with one another, but the sleepless nights and trauma and grief and healing too

sam couldn't sleep one night and went for a walk in the gardens he ran into an equally sleepless t'challa and so began yet another routine for them; to sit in the gardens at a clearing where the stars were bright and plentiful and visible, so vast that sam felt an ache in his bones to be up there, to be in the skies along the stars, and he realised that if there was anyone he wanted to be up there with him, it was the man sitting next to him in quiet contemplation, shoulders slumped slightly, expression handsomely brooding; the man behind the mantles of king and black panther

t'challa found himself wandering towards the gardens on those nights he couldn't sleep, when the weight of the crown and his legacy and the nation weighed so heavily on him that he felt he would crumble under it, he sought out the clearing in the garden, and more importantly, the man with his soul in the skies, his heart wherever he could help people

some nights were quiet for the most part, a brief check-in with one another before just simply taking comfort in one another's company. others were filled with conversation, those deep talks you only feel safe having in the dead of night, when the only thing awake and alive is nature, when every word is just that much more honest and real

losing parents and partners, the responsibilities of leadership, recovery and healing; just some of the things the two talk about when they can be just them, no titles or nationalities or protocol there to censor them

over morning runs and late-night conversations, sharing music and food and language and culture, and impromptu excursions to the city or beyond they grow close and find that their feelings are getting more and more difficult to ignore, both wanting more than just a friendship

it's not during a morning run or nighttime confession that they admit their feelings, but over a shared lunch together

they're eating a simple picnic lunch near the warrior falls where t'challa will soon undergo the first part of his coronation ritual and offer the people of wakanda to send a representative to fight him in ritual combat for the throne

the view of the falls is spectacular, and sam's wide-eyed face of awe and wonder, bright smile shining with all the warmth of the sun makes t'challa feel like he could take on the entire country in ritual combat and come out the other side victorious if sam continues to smile at him like that and if they had more time then they would probably go for a swim, but they don't so here they are, alone at the falls, the rush of water and the sounds of the river fauna their only company

they're laying on a blanket on the grass, watching the clouds, and sam feels just as at peace on the ground with t'challa next to him then he's ever felt with his wings in the skies

during a discussion about the coronation where t'challa answers the questions sam asks him. the subject turns to his duties as king, and sam asks about whether t'challa is expected to marry a woman in order to produce heirs for the throne. he knows wakanda doesn't discriminate against people for sexuality or gender identity, but the duties of a king are to ensure the legacy of the royal bloodline is preserved isn't it?

t'challa laughs, and says that while the royal bloodline is important, there is no restriction on who the king (or queen) marries, as long as they would be able to connect with the people, serve and help the people of wakanda the way any good ruler should

"so what i'm hearing is all's fair in love and war"

"i guess you could say that"

"so if gender and sexuality don't matter; does nationality?"

"perhaps in the past yes, but i feel wakanda is changing, and that it will not be such a concern moving forward"

"even if the king were to be with, say, a fugitive american ex-pararescue-slash-ex-avenger?"

t'challa turns to face sam, heart caught in his throat as he processes just what sam said, takes in the hopeful and tentative look in his eyes masked by a slightly wavering tone of jest and hunour, as he shifts to mirror him.

the moment stretches out for what feels like an eternity before t'challa can respond

"for you, my falcon, i think we can make an exception"

their lips meet, the two smiling too much for the kiss to be anything other than as sweet and warm as honey and sunshine, and sam wraps his arms around t'challa, bringing the king on top of him, and two exchange soft kisses and softer words until t'challa gets called away, promising to meet later not just for their near-nightly rendezvous, but for dinner in t'challa's private quarters

okay so that's all for now! i kinda hate how this turned out but whatever it's done!! taglist under the cut! if anyone didn't want to be added i'm sorry just let me know and i'll delete!

@sambuckies @thewondrouspickle @tchalcons @like-butterflies-and-glitter @shadowyenthusiaststudentus @vodka-infused-unicorn @cassleia @finger-lickin-fuckboy @twisterss

[shouldntcryoverit]

Fireworks

Dad!Rex x Jedi!Reader

w/ Padme, Anakin, Ahsoka, Obi wan and the Skywalker twins ;)) they’re all very much alive and happy.

After the war, with no order 66 because I said so. This is my first time ever writing children, a weird milestone i know, but I hope I did okay let me know! I was gonna give the 501st boys a mention or a scene, but it didn’t feel natural and I couldn’t squeeze it in - so if you want them there, they’re there <3

Also I decided on the name Mira as ‘mirjahaal’ translate to ‘peace of mind’ in Mando’a, and I just know that Rex would name his kid after something like that. (also i felt smart with the whole deeper meaner situation)

taglist -> @pinkiemme

———————————————————————

“Da!”

Rex swivelled his head to the table he had been called from. He still reacted to ‘Captain’ as a variation of his name, but for around three years now ‘Da’ had caught his attention far quicker.

“Yeah C’yare?”

Perched on the edge of the table was his four year old daughter, Mira, smiling smugly as she puffed out her chest and straightened her back just how she’d learnt from Cody. She beamed as her father walked over and pressed a small kiss to the top of her head.

In a short check formed out of habit, he recognised her now braided hair, which had been partitioned into two dainty lines down her blonde head. He had gotten better at doing hair for her sake, but not that good; Leia must’ve gotten ahold of her. Whereas Luke was becoming so much like his father, Leia already had the willpower and strength that mimicked her mother, though that was no bad thing.

Her dress, again courtesy of Padmé, was a beautiful blueish pink colour, and it matched in harmony with the rosemary hue of the sky that bled through the wide windows behind them. It was almost night, and somehow there was an undeniable peace in the air. Perhaps it was something about the time of day, or perhaps it was purely because nowadays there were hardly any reasons for it not to be peaceful.

“Tell Unca Ani I’m right!” Mira spoke with surprising indignation for someone so small. That had always made people laugh.

“I’m not wrong!” Anakin proclaimed, appearing to be hurt by the child’s comment, but failing to hide his grin.

He was rested against the kitchen counter, still slumped like he always did. He perked up slightly as the ‘argument’ began again.

Jaida was near enough to have heard most of their conversation from where she sat beside a dozing Ahsoka. She was mostly focused on the datapad in her hands: lists of still uncompensated troopers that still needed to be helped, but she was far more inclined to listen to the sounds behind her. She smiled distantly at how Anakin acted around her daughter. He softened, even as Mira babbled away.

As Rex and Mira sat and stood respectively, Anakin found it almost laughable how much they were alike. She looked so much like her mother, but her blonde hair and honey eyes were the exact copy of his, that was undeniable.

“Unca Ani say that on Flucca plants glow in tha dark!” Rex smiled sweetly at his daughter’s awe “But that’s imbossible!”

“It’s not!”

“Nope!” Mira popped the ‘p’ like Jaida always did. Anakin laughed at that. It was a solid argument.

“Well, then we’ll go to Felucia. You can see it all for yourself.”

It was a promise Rex was happy to make, especially as Mira lit up at his words.

“Gotta be careful though, sometimes they bite!” Jaida teased from behind the sofa back.

As Mira giggled, a knock sounded from the door to the apartment. Ahsoka stirred up in her light sleep, though Jaida hushed her and moved instead. She pushed off the couch beneath her, winking at the grinning toddler before she made it to the door.

As it opened, Padmé and the twins were revealed, both looking perky behind their tired faces. Luke looked half asleep in truth, but Leia was tugging the senator along with a fist she’d latched onto a few fingers. It had been a long day; no words were needed for Jaida to understand that.

“Hey! You all look so tired what happened?” Jaida laughed lightly as she welcomed them into the room.

“Yoda went bonkers.” There was a hint of remorse in Luke’s voice.

The Jedi chuckled, “What’s new?”

Padmé watched with kind eyes as her children weaved off, and laughed as Ahsoka only just managed to reposition her posture before she was attacked by them both. Luke and Leia were only a year and a bit older than Mira, but they matched each other in energy.

It took them no time at all to close the door and cross into the kitchen where Anakin, Rex and Mira were. Mira had resorted to asking about the different planets, to which Anakin found himself wishing to remember the answers. Rex couldn’t help himself from laughing at the exchange.

“Is the Senate in disagreement again?” Jaida asked as she grabbed a mug for Padmé’s tea, and judging by how she rubbed her temples she suspected she was right.

“Not entirely; it’s just this new vote. Some of the Senators are too focused on the expenses of it all, and I can’t blame them. It won’t be cheap, but it needs to be done.”

“This that liberation bill Cody was talking about?” Rex interjected.

“Yes, it should be simple enough. Only they’re just some people who I can’t seem to budge on it.” Padmé sighed, but didn’t hold that annoyance for much longer. “But anyway I didnt come here to discuss even more politics, how long until they start?”

The reason for their gathering. It wasn’t often that coruscant had fireworks, but when they did it was always something spectacular. The cause for this celebration was particularly important; the 5th anniversary of the end of the clone wars. The senate had decided without much debate to introduce the idea of fireworks, Anakin even joked that it was the quickest they’d ever decided something, yet it was still exciting nonetheless.

Ahsoka got up from where she had been talking to Luke and Leia and grabbed a fruit from the bowl. She laughed along with what conversation had been happened, and grinned at each joke and jibe.

“It’s a shame Obi-wan couldn’t make it back in time.” The togruta spoke after his mention.

“It won’t be the last time we have something like this, and plus, I think Mandalore have something planned as well!”

Ahsoka shrugged in agreement at Padmé, taking a bite at the same time.

“Oh, look!” She spoke between mouthfuls. They all followed the line of her outstretched hand, looking towards the window now beginning to light up in disarray.

“It’s starting!” Luke interjected. He pushed through to the front with Leia hot on his tail. And indeed it was, the beginnings of bright crackles started to compete with the stars behind them. The fireworks were just above the senate building, bemusing the gathering with small, golden splashes of light in intricate patterns. It wasn’t loud, the apartment being so far away, but the distant sound of bangs made Mira jump a few times.

Rex comforted her, taking her up in his arms. She relaxed as soon as she knew she was safe with him; he kept her safe. That was the promise he’d make a thousands times over and more if he could. Jaida met his eyes, and hugged his arm with her head rested on his shoulder. Everything was right; real. The war was over and they had won. The fireworks were a beautiful touch, but nothing could displace the satisfaction of watching your own life grow into something you never even imagined it could. Rex had endured enough, and now he could honestly say it was worth it. He kissed Jaida’s forehead as she melted into his side.

The smaller, yellowish bursts began to grow: feeding into the sky as pinks, oranges, blues and greens spiralled off from their sources. Each pop of colour that continued into circles or stars had it’s own mind, yet still unfolded as if it were puppetry. Some shot straight up and exploded after a minute of delightful teasing, and wove between themselves like missiles. They were the ones that made Luke squeal in excitement the most.

Others whirled in spirals, endlessly collecting momentum and continuing in their talented hast; or shattered into millions of personalised sparks you couldn’t choose which one to follow. They tumbled down in rains of coloured stars, settling as if the art they’d shared with an entire silent city was only fiction. Their message was received in awe, and Jaida held a teary gaze even as they faded. Luke and Leia clapped, Mira laughed, but the adults shared pregnant silence, a moment for what they had found for themselves. Children, family, peace. Love.

The war weighed heavily, it always would. But it was over, they had lived, and a new life had begun.

[behindheremeraldeyes]

DamiRae Week 2021 Monday, May 3rd - Pregnancy/ Parenthood & Family/ In-Laws

title: a cup of tea, please

summary: This is her first time being invited for dinner at the Wayne Mansion as his official girlfriend, and to say she’s nervous would be the understatement of the year. While she waits for them to arrive from an emergency call, perhaps, a nice cup of tea can calm her poor heart. Ao3 / ffnet

.

The path connecting the gates to the main entrance is probably the longest she ever remembers walking in a long time, and the clicking of her black heels against the concrete is starting to sound too loud in her ears. She’s miles away from Gotham, now, and the constant symphony of sirens that is always playing doesn’t reach her ears anymore. The garden is enveloped in peace and quietness, the moonshine bathing the statues and trees with its delicate light.

The Wayne Mansion is a spectacular construction, indeed. Her lavender eyes can’t stop looking around, carefully paying attention to all the details that make this place so impressive. The gothic style, the lit windows and the empowering towers make her feel incredibly small and she can’t help the shivers that run down her spine when she sees the massive water fountain in front of her.

Perhaps, she thinks, it’s a good thing that she came in alone. Raven doesn’t know what kind of face she is making right now, but she knows for sure that her boyfriend would make fun of her for reacting like that. Due to a sudden call from the GCPD requesting the dynamic duo, the empath ended up teleporting herself from Jump City on her own.Though she would always grow worried whenever they received those emergency calls, Damian did promise to meet her at the mansion in one piece so the three of them could have dinner.

Oh, right, the dinner. She feels her heart skipping a beat at the thought, and she has to suppress the urge to bite her lower lip in order not to ruin her lipstick. Of all the monsters and bad guys she has had to face in her life, Raven doesn’t recall ever being this nervous before. All of her primal emotions are screaming at her right now, and some of her inner demons— her father included— are telling her to run and hide in the depths of hell so she won’t have to face what’s to come.

She’s having dinner with the Waynes. However, it’s not just a simple dinner, no. It’s her first dinner as Damian’s official girlfriend— her first dinner meeting his father as his father. And even if she has already encountered Bruce Wayne many times before, she can’t help but think things would be much easier if she believed he was just a rich and eccentric man.

It would certainly be easier if she didn’t know he was, in fact, Batman.

Though she has never had any problems with Bruce since she’s joined the Titans, Raven must admit that she does feel intimidated by the fact that her father-in-law is the Gotham City’s very own Dark Knight. In all of their previous encounters, he has always been very cordial, never disrespecting her or any of her teammates. He is a good man, Damian says so himself. A good man with enough skills to go against every member of the Justice League without a single super-power.

He is a meticulous man, very precise and mysterious. He is her boss, and tonight, he is also her host.

It takes her a while to recompose herself from that wave of emotions, but eventually, Raven reaches the main entrance of the mansion. The mahogany doors are lustrous, and something tells her that the carved details were handmade decades ago. She takes one, last and deep breath, and finally, she reaches for the intercom with her index finger. A loud bell resonates inside the building, and before she has the time to rethink her choices, a muffled voice greets her.

“One moment, miss Roth.”

At those words, the empath is left slightly startled, as she starts playing with her fingers. Judging by the few things she was told her about the manor, Raven believes it’s safe to assume that voice on the speaker belongs to Alfred, the butler. According to her boyfriend’s stories, he has been in the family for at least three generations and he’s probably the one man who knows all of the secrets of the Waynes. Damian always speaks very fondly of him, saying he has always treated him like a boy instead of a potential assassin. Perhaps it wasn’t a very wise decision at the very beginning, but it says a lot about the man he is.

It doesn’t take long before the huge doors swing open in front of her, and as the lights start to creep out, it’s like a whole new world is revealed in front of her. She slowly walks in, her eyes marveled by all the elegance oozing from every corner of that entrance hall, which is probably larger than the house she grew up in.

There’s marble on the floor beneath her feet and a crystal chandelier hanging high above her head. Two spiral staircases unite the first and the second floors, and she notices as the walls are decorated with large, classical paintings of war and winter woods. There’s a brunet woman beautiful portrayed in one of those frames, and something tells her she must be Bruce’s mother. Though subtle, it’s undeniable that Damian shares a lot of his delicate features with her.

He has her cheeks, she thinks, a tender smile taking over her lips. It’s a pure emotion contrasting her current uneasiness, and right now, it’s enough to provide her some sort of comfort.

Even if Raven is completely absorbed by whole scenario around her, she’s quick to notice his presence in the room. Though her ears didn’t realize exactly when he arrived at the entrance hall, her senses are quick to detect the way his warm emotions mingle with hers. There’s a pinch of worry mixed with calmness, but mostly, she can feel a certain excitement building up inside him. It’s completely different from what she feels coming from the Wayne men she knows, for it’s lighter and consistent, and she can’t help but feel welcomed by that.

She still doesn’t even know his voice, but the empath is starting to understand why her boyfriend likes this man so much.

“Good evening, Miss Roth.” He starts, speaking politely and never taking his eyes away from hers. He’s dressed with a formal smoking, his black shoes perfectly shined and his gloves withe as the snow. “My name is Alfred, the butler. Welcome to the Wayne mansion. I apologize on behalf of Master Bruce and Master Damian, for they are still busy handling some matters in Gotham. They should be arriving shortly.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Alfred.” Her voice is steady and low, as she tries her best to cause a good first impression. “I'm sure they must be taking care of some important business. There’s no need for an apology. The city needs them, after all.”

“You’re a very kind, young lady. Please, allow me take your coat and walk you to the living room.”

She offers him a smile in response, carefully removing the black coat covering her petit body and revealing her outfit. She’s wearing a long, beige skirt that falls just above her calfs. Her onyx stilettos are giving her some extra inches, and a charcoal, sleeved shirt completes the set. For the material was a little transparent, it was possible to see her dark, lacy cropped beneath it, but according to Zatanna, it’s not indecent or anything. While preparing for tonight, Damian told her not to worry about futile details, but it only felt natural for her to want to look presentable for this evening’s event.

“Thank you, Alfred.” She handles him the coat, and she realizes how careful he is as he puts it inside a hidden closet.

“You're welcome. Now, if you could accompany me.”

"Of course.” She nods, following behind his footsteps. They walk down a large hallway with frames also decorating the walls, and even if she wanted to stay and look carefully at every single one of them, Raven knows better than to risk getting lost. Instead, she keeps paying attention to the composed man leading the way, observing in awe as the living room finally comes to view.

As expected, it’s another no by veryelegant room, filled with classical furniture and a gothic-themed fireplace that is responsible for keeping the area warm. Another large portrait hangs above it, and this time, that same woman is accompanied by a man very similar to Bruce himself. It’s a powerful painting for newcomers such as herself, but she knows it probably has a deeper meaning for those living inside those walls.

The carpets now are thick enough to muffle her heels, and while she’s distracted admiring the clocks spread around the living room, once more, his delicate voice bring her back to their reality. “Would you like a drink, Miss? Master Bruce has chosen a fine wine for the dinner, but feel free to ask me anything.”

“Uhmm.” She hums, pondering, her lips now pressed in a thin line. Though she doesn’t want to sound rude, Raven isn't really a fan of wine. She doesn’t hate it or anything like that, but it’s undeniable that she doesn’t have a high tolerance for alcohol. Once Bruce arrives, though, she will eventually have to share a glass with him, so, for now, she thinks it will be safer to avoid any liquor in order to prevent any embarrassing incident. “How about a cup of tea? I mean, only if it won’t cause you too much trouble, Alfred.”

“Non-sense. I will go boil the water immediately. Would you like any tea in particular?”

“Thank you very much, Alfred. And about the flavor… You can choose whatever you like, I guess. Damian once told me you know a lot about tea, so you probably know better than me when it comes to tea and the best choice for each occasion.”

His expression freezes for a fraction of second, a certain surprise now lacing his emotions. “Oh, did he?”

“Yes, he did.” She nods, offering him a soft smile. “He talks a lot about you, actually.”

“Good things, I hope.”

“The best, I assure you.”

“Who would have thought…” He nods, accepting her words and it’s as if she can sense a certain happiness in his voice. “Very well, I will go boil the water. If you need me, I will be in the kitchen. Please, make yourself at home.”

“I will, thank you.”

After nodding politely— because everythinghe does is polite— he turns around and walks away until he disappears in one of the many hallways she imagines this mansion to have. A soft smile takes over her lips as a warm sensation fills her chest. Alfred is really an amazing man. He’s thoughtful and his emotions are as transparent as Damian’s are filled with pride. Her first impressions on him are impeccable, and though he’s very different from the entire Wayne familiar circle, Raven is starting to understand why their dynamic works.

Maybe, with time, she will come to a full conclusion on that matter.

For now, though, she’s just happy to have finally met the man Damian always mentions whenever he’s talking about home. And now that she’s finally having the chance to add real images to his vague descriptions, well…

To say she’s just impressed would be the understatement of the year.

Though she has been in the mansion for a while now, Raven is still finding it hard to get used to her surroundings. Perhaps it’s the sepulchral silence or the fact that she’s all alone in Batman’s living room, but suddenly, she’s starting to feel a mild anxiety creeping around. She’s starting to feel self-conscious, as if she’s been watched— which is very likely to be happening, for sure— and even if Alfred has told her to make herself at home, the empath realizes it’s easier said than done.

She should’ve brought her book, damn it.

Her eyes are looking around in search of something to distract her from overreacting, but she soon realizes it’s useless. All of that subjective pressure is starting to get the best of her, and chances are that, if that continues like that, she will be teleporting back home before Damian even gets back.

Raven needs to calm down. She needs to stop overthinking and get herself together.

She needs Alfred, preferably with that tea. And even if she doesn't really know where the kitchen is, it’s not like she can’t use her powers to help her find the butler.

Without sparing a second thought, her eyes are already glowing and some loose locks of her purple hair are lifting up. With just a little concentration, she’s able to locate the only emotional human-being in the mansion and even if she doesn’t know which corridor will take her to him, Raven decides to improvise.

A dark energy envelops her body, and in a blink of an eye, the empath is teleported to a dim-lit room that is filled with a slightly bitter citric fragrance she’s very familiar with. It’s Earl Grey tea, she knows. The scent invades her nostrils and she can feel her body calmly responding to it. She takes a deep breath, then, and that’s when her eyes finally acknowledge the man responsible to that delicious aroma.

He’s standing in front of the stove, the boiling water working its magic on the leaves floating above it. As it appears, he’s following all the correct steps to brew the perfect Earl Grey and she doesn’t feel like she can thank him enough for that.

She stands a couple of feet away from him, near a wooden table that has a porcelain tea cup that certainly belongs to an english crockery set. There are four stools near her, and she also notices the many kitchen utensils displayed around the room. The newspaper is resting next to a pair of reading glasses, and she wonders if that’s what he was doing before she got here earlier this evening.

“Miss Roth, may I help you?” He speaks, not bothering to turn to face her, as he’s delicately blending the black tea with Bergamot oil. Though she has literally just appeared behind his back, she noticed how he remained calm and focused. Years of living with that family must do that to a person, she thinks.

“Oh, Uhm… It’s nothing, really.” She starts, stumbling upon her own words like a 5-year-old child who was caught stealing cookies from the jar. Apparently, Raven didn’t really think of a way to properly explain why she even bothered coming after him in the first place. “You see, Alfred, I was just… I was—“

“It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” He speaks, and suddenly, it’s like her worries dissipate in thin air. It’s funny how she’s the empath between them, and yet, he seems to know exactly what she’s feeling right now. He’s a good man, for sure.

“Yeah.” She sighs, a smile on her face. “I guess I just didn’t want to be alone in Batman’s mansion. Do you mind if I stay here with you until they get back?”

“Of course not, Miss Roth. Please, sit and make yourself comfortable. The tea is almost ready.”

“Thank you.” She says, choosing one of the stools for her to sit. Even if it’s not one of Bruce’s expensive armchairs, Raven is feeling a lot more comfortable here, with him. “Also, I see that you’ve chosen Earl Grey… It’s my favorite.”

“I know it is, Miss Roth.”

Her eyes widen for a moment, and slowly, she lets his words sink in. Few people in this world know such simple details about her life, and though she wouldn’t take Damian for one to chit-chat about his girlfriend’s favorite kind of tea, she’s not oblivious to what that means.

They do get along, she can tell. And even if she can only make guesses on that matter, she definitely wants to know more about that relationship.

“So, Alfred…” She starts again, not really sure how to ask him those questions without sounding too nosy. “How was Damian before he joined the Titans? He talks a lot about you, his father and Dick; but never really about himself.”

“Uhm… Master Damian is different from all the others.” He states, finally turning off the flame of the stove. He lets it sit for a couple of seconds, only then opting to pour it in the cup he had separated for her. The scent is stronger now, and she can’t wait for the temperature to drop just enough so she can take a sip of it. “He's the only one who wantedMaster Bruce to be his paternal figure, even if he might not be aware of that himself.”

“And did he get what he wanted?”

“You perhaps need to spend more time with Master Bruce, my dear.” He says, his voice laced with a certain sarcasm as his mustache slightly turns upwards.

“Well… I don’t know how it was before, but I think they’re starting to understand each other a little better now, right? At least that’s the impression I get every time he goes back to the tower after a night patrol.”

“I believe you’re right, indeed. Both of them are too similar in many aspects, and I think it’s safe to say they’re making progress as father and son. An old man such as myself can only hope for them to find a balance."

“Damian Wayne finding balance in life… That's something I would love to see.” She giggles, earning a side smile from him.

“He's changed a lot since the first time we met him. Master Damian is certainly no longer that irreverent child who’s constantly angry and lost.”

“Maybe that monastery did good for him.”

“Well, not only the monastery, Miss Roth.”

A comforting warmth creeps under her skin and she can't help but feel a sense of wholesomeness taking over her emotions. Though she doubts she’s had all of that effect on him, it’s nice to know she was able to make a difference, no matter how small it might have been.

Her boyfriend is a very complex man, filled with doubts and conflicts that might never come to an end. He struggles to become a new man without abandoning his past, and perhaps, that’s the one thing she loves the most about him. He’s unique, original in his own shape and colors. He’s not trying to please anyone, and yet, even if he doesn’t believe her words whenever she points it out, he’s trying to be a hero.

He will be a fine leader someday, and she can’t wait to be there by his side when his day arrives.

“Thank you, Alfred… For taking care of him when he was a little boy.”

“It was only my job as the family’s butler. I should be the one thanking you, Miss Roth. For taking care of him now that he’s no longer one.”

His old, wrinkled eyes are now looking at her, and there’s an emotion there that Raven can’t really name. It’s pure and laced with honesty, and for a moment, she thinks this is how grandparents are supposed to look at their grandchildren.

It feels special to be looked at like that. It feels warm and safe in a whole different level, and she feels encouraged enough to talk to him about anything in the world. Her tastes, her doubts, fears, and mostly, the things she loves.

At last, she’s beginning to understand the man behind the dynamic duo. At last, she beginning to understand why Damian loves him so much.

There’s an inch of expectation in his face as she finally takes a sip of the tea, and she hopes he can see the satisfied look on her face after that. It’s perfect, for sure. Perhaps the best Earl Grey she’s ever had in her life. As expected from a man such as Alfred Pennyworth.

“It's delicious, Alfred.” She nods, closing her eyes to savor the moment. “Would you like to drink with me?”

“Don't mind me, Miss. It’s still too early for my tea.”

“Oh, I see… Maybe next time, then?”

“Of course. Next time will be perfect.”

Neither of them really knew for how long they’ve been talking, but eventually, their ears capture the sound of rushed footsteps coming from down the hallway. Unalarmed eyes turn their attention to the source of the new sound that has disturbed their chit-chat, and in a matter of seconds, a raven haired boy dressed in his black turtle-neck shirt appears.

“Alfred, we’re home! He starts, sounding slightly breathless. “Have you seen Rav—“ Though he did seem bit exasperated, at first, once his emerald eyes meet her amethyst one, it’s as if time stops and he allows himself to breath. “Oh, there you are.”

“Hi.” She greets him, a warm smile now forming on her lips. “Took you long enough, Boy Wonder.”

“You see, everything was going just fine until those lunatics decided it would be fun to rob the Gotham museum. Penguin was behind this one this time.”

“And did you get him?” She asks, taking another sip of her tea.

“Not really… He escaped through the sewers, that bastard. Next time he won’t stand a chance, though!”

“You’ll get him next time, I’m sure.”

“Yeah…” He nods, running his fingers through his dark locks. “Sorry to keep you waiting for so long."

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Alfred here has kept me company while you were busy.” She states, looking at the butler so they could exchange an honest glance. “Though I believe he’s too polite to tell me to leave so I can stop distracting him from the important things he has to do."

“Nonsense, Miss Roth.” Alfred states, no hesitation in his voice. “Our talk has proven itself quite amusing.”

“I'm glad to know that. I really enjoyed our talk, too.” She states, taking the last sip of her tea before finally standing up. She takes a few steps to get closer to Damian, who almost instinctively, places his hand right on her lower back. Their eyes meet once more, and there’s a small smile playing on his lips.

“Good to see you two getting along. What were you two talking about?”

“You, of course.”

“Me?” He lifts an eyebrow, and she watches amusedly as confusion takes over his face. “Can you be a little more specific?”

“Sure. We were talking about this silly game you play with all the girls you bring home for dinner.” She teases, a sparkle lit inside her amethyst eyes. "Honestly, keeping us waiting all alone so close to Batman’s secrets isn’t a really good idea.”

“TT.” He scoffs, a pout decorating his face. “You're not funny.”

“I would have to disagree, Master Damian. She’s quite the spirituous one.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“You're welcome, Miss Roth.”

“I'm clearly outnumbered here.”

A giggle escapes her lips as she smiles at her new partner in crime. Alfred nods back at her, and once her attention returns tenderly towards her boyfriend, the butler clears his throat in order to get their attention. “Master Damian, why don’t you take Miss Roth to the living room to meet your father? I’ll be finishing the preparations for the dinner.”

“Great idea, Alfred.” Damian agrees, offering her his arm to hold as a true gentlemen would. “Shall we?”

“Of course.” She nods, accepting his offer and bringing her body even closer to his. Her emotions feel lighter, and her chest is warmer now that she is getting to know more about him and his life away from the Titans. Her conversation with Alfred was very pleasant and she really hopes she can get another chance like this in a nearby future. “Thank you for keeping me company, Alfred. It was a real pleasure meeting you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Roth.” He bows cordially, and she has no reason to doubt his words.

Both Alfred and Raven reach a mutual agreement, and carefully, she feels Damian carefully pulling her towards the corridor from where he came. The two lovers are about to walk away with their arms laced, but suddenly, the butler’s voice stops them in their tracks.

“Master Damian, if I may…”

“What is it, Alfred?” Damian asks, curiosity now taking over both of them.

“You've found yourself a very nice girl and my old heart can’t handle another emotionally inept Wayne. Don’t let her slip away.”

Her eyes widen at his statement and she can even feel a blush threatening to tinge her cheeks. A mix of feelings is running through her veins right now, and if anything, she feels her heart skipping a beat while waiting for Damian’s answer to this.

Is he going to laugh it off?

Is he going to opt for one of the rude answers he’s always giving Dick?

Is he going to—

Her train of thoughts is suddenly interrupted by the feeling of his other hand on top of her arm. His fingers caress her exposed skin, and for a moment, she hopes she doesn’t look half as dumbfounded as she is inside. His emerald eyes are now looking deep into hers and all of the words disappear from her mind.

“I won't, Alfred.” He answers, his voice an octave lower than before. “I certainly won’t.”

A soft smile slowly makes its way to her lips, and right now, she realizes how happy she is to be here. Not only she got to know the famous Alfred, but Raven also got the chance to know more about the man she holds so dear in her heart.

At last, they make their way to the dinning room where Bruce is probably waiting for them. They exchange smiles and a few words in order to catch up on the last couple of hours. There’s a chuckle, a sigh and even a muffled sound that shall be kept in secret by the walls of the mansion. Without a hurry in the world, their feet keep moving forward, their arms never once untangling.

fin.

------

a/n: Hapy Damirae week! This is my first time participating and I’m so excited!! Thanks to this ship, I’ve met so many wonderful people and all I want right now is for our beloved ship to be showered with all the love and affection it deserves! Thank you all who have made me feel so welcomed and let’s have a blast during this week! Hope you enjoy this one, and please, tell me what you think!

[gloster]

FAVORITE FANFICS OF 2020

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

I know I speak for all when I say....I cannot wait to toss 2020 out the door the way Uncle Phil constantly did with Jazz. One of the things that got me through this rough year, besides family & friends & BTS, were fanfics.

It’s that time of year again where I make a list of all the fanfics that I absolutely adored. Some are by veteran favs of mine, others are new to me who just knocked it out of the park. If you’re interested in past lists, here is 2019′s list and 2018��s. If y’all are interested in doing your own fanfic favs of the year, please do so and tag me. Always on the hunt for new favs. 

So without furhter ado, my fav fanfics of 2020:

1). Another Word for Forever series by stardropdream (sheith)

Summary: Shiro knows better than to expect love in an arranged marriage. This is all for the sake of universal peace, after all, and solidifying a Terran-Galran alliance. At the very least, Shiro can hope to make a friend out of this. Becoming friends would be much easier, though, if he and his husband could actually communicate. 

With a language barrier and a mountain of cultural differences between them, getting to know Keith proves to be a challenge. Luckily, Shiro's always worked well with challenges.

2020 shockingly became the year of sheith. I ended up rewatching the show w/my bestie @littlenightdragon​. Diving more deeply into it w/my other bestie @kila09​. She and I spent the better half of this year devouring so many fanfics of them in various AUs. I came across new fanfic authors, and stardropdream is among them. 

If I could describe this series & stardropdream, I’ll take a cue from Lady Gaga: “ talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference, put it in a blender, shit on it, vomit on it, eat it, give birth to it”

This series was just PERFECTION. I’ve gotten into arranged-marriage AUs and this has been one of the best I’ve read. It was just perfection. The language barrier definitely added an extra charm to it, in which Shiro finds his own ways to get to know his husband better: both creative and funny ways. So many cute moments, so many funny moments with Hunk being the translating middle man between them, and the smut. THE SMUT. THE SMUT. THE SMUT. Just *chef’s kiss* Incredible. It was just so so sweet, and such a comfort read. I reread this series 5 times already and hope Robin (the writer) does more stories in this AU.

Please read this series. You’re not gonna regret it. It will MELT your heart. 

Honorable Mentions:

If I Called You Mine

Sail Across the Sky Just to Get to You

Finding Shelter (The Alien Baby Remix)

Say You Do(n’t)

2). The Golden Hour by @goldentruth813​ (sheith)

Summary:  After a space mission failure, Shiro loses his arm and his career. Two years later he's settled into a quiet and simple new life on his farm, but when a beautiful alien crashes in his field, he discovers the answers to his questions—and possibly the keys to his future—will come from the stars.

I’m sure no one, least of all Janel the writer herself, is surprised to see this author featured on this list. For now the 3rd year in a row. WOOOW  👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿 She is the reason I got into shieth, and she just continues to put out amazing conent with them. This story by far has been the best she’s done this year-possibly one of the best ever. 

We have Shiro trying to have a simple life at the farm with his dog and animals. A curious BOM Keith who shakes things up with his boldness/innocence-and questions bound to test blood pressure, especially Shiro’s. Loads of cute moments, loads of funny moments, and also loads of oreos. 

If summary and my thoughts don’t sell you, only one thing will: reading it for yourself.

Honorable mentions:

Two Hearts in Bloom

Mountain Men

Home is in Your Heart

3). Spun like Gold by Neyasochi (sheith)

Summary: Though Shiro is currently operating his fledgling bakery business out of a decrepit food truck he got for cheap in a repossession sale, he dreams of something more: a cozy bakery and cafe on a tree-lined street somewhere, filled with the smell of fresh coffee and sugar glaze instead of diesel. A little money could go a long way to helping him get off the ground-- and luckily, Keith has money to burn.

Or: Keith takes care of Shiro’s financial woes, in exchange for a little sugar.

OMG, OMG, OMG was this story so sweet. Neyasochi already sold me with the baking/baker Shiro trope, but went a step further throwing in sugar-daddy Keith who knows his way around his manic family and cars, but when it comes to asking a cute guy out? What better way to make an impression than becoming his best paying customer?  

Honorable mentions:

oh, devour me

Healing Touch

on your hand of gold 

4). The Destiny You Sold by @tryslora​ (drarry)

Summary: In which Draco knits, Harry makes wands, and things get very tangled up between them.

If there’s one thing I love about fanfics is how they introduce you to tropes you never would consider before. Draco and knitting was a combo I didn’t realize how much I needed until now. And I love the fact knitting played a big part of the accidental bonding. Also loved the fact everyone in their friend group shipped them like crazy. Highly, highly recommend 

5) What’s My Age Again? by @lazywonderlvnd​ (drarry)

Summary: Harry Potter has had enough of pleasing the public, and his reckless tendencies are finally getting out of hand.

The Quidditch World Cup is only a week away; as Captain of the English National Team, Hermione has assured him that his immaturity won’t be tolerated by the Ministry.

And then Malfoy shows up.

(Inspired by the blink-182 song of the same name.)

It’s no secret that I’m such a fangirl of @lazywonderlvnd​. Any drarry story I read, I always love. Last year, I ADORED The Changing Lights, which was one of my favorites last year, and her updating/finishing the story was a massive highlight for me. I thank ya for that. 

This story was honestly refreshing. I’ve grown so used to Harry being responsible, always doing what’s right, that seeing a story where Harry pretty much has his middle finger in the air to “good reputation”, “being responsible,” because as he brought up: “I’m 25. I’ve been fighting all my life. I’ve earned my life to have fun.”

Okay, granted, it wasn’t quite like that but it was along those lines. And I agree. After all he went through, Harry deserves to have fun. He deserves to be reckless and make stupid decisions.

Also, it was such a blast reading a story where Harry is the brat & Draco has to keep him in line. LOVED.

Honorable mentions: 

Inside Your Mind

Aletheia

6). Chocolate and Pastry by agentmoppet, anemonen (drarry)

Summary:  When Pansy bets Draco that there is no chance he and Harry could carry out a genuine romantic relationship, he and Harry form a plan. But as their fake relationship progresses, Draco sees a side of Harry he never expected. Harry is struggling with something, pushing it far down inside him where he doesn't have to acknowledge its existence. Draco starts to worry, and then he starts to care, and then... horribly... he starts to fall in love.

Do not let the title fool you like it did me. Title alone, I was thinking it was going to be a fun, fluffy story involving baking, maybe chocolate crafting. However....it was not that at all. It was more. A lot deeper. A lot more angsty. It explored mental health, PTSD and the dangers of loved ones ignoring the signs, and contained an important message:

You can’t love someone out of their illness/disease/ addiction. Which is true and this story showed that. 

7). i’m still here by owedbetter (zutara)

Summary: "You see me."

And somehow, that makes all the difference.

If there’s one of the few good things 2020 has brought, it was Netflix bringing back ATLA to their library. Which in turn ignited my love for zutara & had me drag @kila09​ into that ship. 

This story was just incredible. The way it was written, it really felt like it could have been canon. Deleted scenes that a certain creator didn’t want us to see. The way Zuko and Katara came together, starting from their peaceful friendship after the Southern Raiders episode up, becoming closer along the way. 

I dare y’all to read this and not think OMG...is this secret canon bonus material? I definitely plan to read more by owedbetter. 

8). all the what ifs i never said by rosegardenlake (sheith)

Summary:  Keith is nine when he first notices Shiro. Shiro is gentle and quiet, always keeping to himself. Keith is rough and loud, running wherever his feet will take him, screaming on the top of his lungs into the wind. But despite that, they're a constant throughout each other's lives...if only that could be enough. As they grow, Keith just wants them both to be happy, but instead, he's falling apart.

Rosegardenlake is another sheith writer who I adored last year & adore this year as well. This was a story that I read during the beginning of quarantine-life and when I tell you the number of times Keith’s emotions of loneliness got to me, it’s a big number. 

Keith’s struggle with life after high school, after peaking in school, and his mental health reminded me too much of where I was at 2018, which wasn’t a good year for me at all, especially mentally. So that was triggering but it was also helpful since I saw how far I came. And it was beautiful seeing how far Keith came. 

Also the relationship between Shiro and Keith was just beautiful. It’s very funny how Keith was Shiro’s protector growing up and Shiro became Keith’s later on in life. There’s a chance your heart may be heavy, but will also be so swelled up with feelings these two bring it. 

Honorable mentions:

Where the Light Doesn’t Reach 

9). When Night Comes by Oh_Hey_Tae (BTS; poly ot7)

Summary: Jungkook’s tipsy, but he’s not buzzed enough to miss that he doesn’t recognize any of the four dozen people here. And seeing as his friends aren’t ones to ditch and there’s no way they’d play a prank this mean on him, Jungkook reaches the conclusion that he just walked into a stranger’s very expensive home, uninvited, and started eating their food and petting their well-dressed dog.

(Or: Jungkook shows up to the wrong Halloween party and meets the most powerful family in Seoul.)

I can easily say Oh_Hey_Tae easily one of my favorite BTS fanfic favs. Always come through with the stories, and this one was just amazing. We have Jungkook stumbling into a Halloween story, and soon enters into a intense, insane relationship with all six guys, who are already in a relationship with each other. Oh, and supernatural creatures at that. 

You do see certain relationships are stronger, deeper. For example, a lot of moments between Jin and Jungkook. Vmin has their own story and moments. But it was just so amazing. 

Fair warning. Halfway through, things get darker and Oh_My_Tae really loves playing readers diirty with the angst, but it’s so good. 

10). peace-weaver by magisterpavus (sheith)

Summary: You will be the peace-weaver, his mother told him, smiling though her dark eyes welled with unshed grief. The one who brings two bitter enemies together and ends the bloodshed and death between us, once and for all.

But men will always crave war. The Galra, most of all.

Yet another arranged-marriage AU that I loved. This particular one is well-loved in the sheith fandom. I can definitely say it’s considered one of the classic fanfics that’s been read or shared at one point or another. 

The story itself reminded me a lot of Macbeth, involving murder and dark forces at bay. The dynamics between Shiro and Keith reminded me of Drogo and Daenerys from GOT, one of my fav couples there, which only made it all the more better for me. 

I do credit the author for the creative approach they took with quintessence and Shiro’s role/persona as the Champion

Honorable mentions:

The Boy in the Window 

Sheith Demon/Priest AU

A Matter of Scale

Directive 

Honorable mentions that I seriously wanted to add to the list but this post is already lengthy. All amazing, all greats reads by various writers y’all should check out:

Hold Me Tight, or Don’t by snowfallen (yoonmin with a Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU featuring assassins and hitmen, secret identities, fake marriage, and a lot of smut)

The Prince and Pirate by Maniacani, @nerdherderette​ (drarry with a splash of royalty and pirates. Perfect if you’re needing to fill in any Pirates of the Caribbean or Black Sails cravings)

First Kisses are the Best Ones by SashaDistan (sheith in a 50 First Dates Fusion heartfelt/heart-gutting story)

freely, as men strive for right by @bixgirl1​ (drarry w/Harry explaining the many ways why Draco’s the love of his life. we love to see it)

The Sacrificed by SasuNarufan13 (sasunaru w/ dark fairytale elements similar to Little Red Riding Hood & Beauty and the beast + feat. mpreg)

Chasing Treacle Tart (and Draco Malfoy) by xErised (drarry feat. lunch lady Draco + scheming Harry + loads of fun w/sweets & more)

Red Desert by @beatitudinembty​ (taekook in a unique sci-fi AU; hard to explain but so worth a read

one way ticket to another life by starboykeith (sheith Hades x Persephone background)

Even So by lewilder (zutara; arranged marriage+ language barrier +soft strangers to lovers)

Well, lovely people, there you have it. My top 10 favorite fanfics of the year. I do notice a certain ship shows up a lot on this list, but I wasn’t kidding when I said they took over this year. Still, I tried to mix the list up with other fav ships/fandoms of mine. To the writers who created these incredible stories. I applaud you. I thank you for creating and sharing these wonderful stories. Anyone interested in doing the tag, please do. 

HAPPY NEW YEAR, GUYS

[sylvie-writes]

Bad (2): What Happened?

First inspired by this song ➳ Bad by Lennon Stella

(Ransom Drysdale x wife reader)

Summary: What went down that fateful night...

A/n: I got carried away, and kinda forgot about the real plot lol. So there’s more fluff than angst... I think. 

Disclaimer: this chapter is sort of a filler before we get to the real shiz. 

Warnings: Cheating, mild profanity, poor writing. Ransom being an asshole (rip all the soft Ransom stories I’ve written)

As always, plz pardon any mistakes, the stories are always proofread but I tend to make many mistakes regardless.

Series Masterlist 

Picking up from where we last left off: About two months ago, your work gave its employees a week off for the holidays. It was once in a blue moon that you got to see your family, so you seized this opportunity. You wished your husband could have come, but Ransom had to stay behind to help Harlan with an upcoming novel. In truth, Ransom never saw himself reverting back to his bad ways, but who knows what entices people to change… 

They always say to choose a job that you love. Something even your own parents had drilled into your head as a young child, trying to prevent you from their own mistakes. It was known then, that if you chose a job you didn’t love, you would be metaphorically chained like a prisoner bound to the wall, or in your case, the job. 

Well, you followed their advice, and chose a job you were passionate about, something you didn’t mind studying about all those years ago in college. It’s not that you didn’t love your job, but you were tired, very tired. Life was fast paced and you were running out of fuel, so to say. So this morning when your work offered you an exclusive week off, you took the offer, worked quickly yet precisely, and flew out the door, before it was dark. Normally, you’d work more than the normal 9-5 shift, it was more like 9-7 for you, anyway.

Ransom was supposedly off today, and you wanted nothing more than to kick off your break, by eating a nice lunch with your husband. While you gave your holiday wishes to your friends, you shot Ransom a quick text asking him to call you. 

So, just as you drove down the highway, your phone steaming your favorite playlist to the car’s stereo, Ransom’s name popped up on the large screen, a picture of him in college, showing up. (yeah, you liked to tease him about his college years, when he thought he was all that and a bag of chips.) 

“Hey Gorgeous! What’s up?”

“Well… you interrupted my carpool karaoke.”

Your husband laughed along with you, before you dropped your surprise on him.

“Other than that, my work gave me the week off. No biggie though.” 

Being married to Ransom and having known him for many years, has given you a real sense of sarcasm to say the least.

“That’s amazing! You deserve it, my love.”

“Ohh, quit trying to butter me up, Ran.”

More laughter from his end, making a large grin grow on your face. Only you could ever make Ransom laugh at the stupidest things, that’s just the kind of bond you two shared. 

“Anyhoo, I was wondering if you wanted me to come pick you up for lunch?”

“Sounds great, love ya.”

“Love you too.” The rest of the drive to your house was enjoyable. Today had been spectacular, something that hadn’t happened in ages. As you continued to drive, all the amazing occurrences from today settled with you in the car, a permanent smile on your face the whole way.  

You pulled into the driveway, opting to stay in the car just to keep the warm air flowing from the vents, sending Ransom a quick text.

A few minutes later, the man himself came out, his brown suede trench coat on, your own raspberry pea coat slung over his left arm. 

The passenger door popped open, and Ransom’s warm lips pressed slowly against your cheek, instantly warming you up.

“I figured you might be cold.”

A deep laugh resonated in his stomach as he reached over the console to hand you the jacket, the one you had forgotten this morning. 

“Thanks, hon. So, where do you want to eat?”

You looked over to Ransom, whose eyes had been lovingly glued to you since he’d gotten in the car.

“How about that little sandwich shop in town?”

A bright and sweet smile graced your lips, stunning Ransom with its effect on him. His own eyes crinkling up as his frowning lips slowly formed into a content smile.

Once you had reached town about twenty minutes later, Ransom rushed out of the car the minute you had stopped the engine. His actions leaving you confused when suddenly a blurb of tan suede halted and revealed the missing man, who was now pulling your door open.  

“Wow Mr. Drysdale, since when did you become such a gentleman.”

You teased Ransom, wrapping your arm around his, embracing his warmth, and playfully kissing his nose. 

“Since you became Mrs. Drysdale.” 

His little quip caught you off guard as you weren’t expecting a response from the man. As a result of that surprise, your cheeks slightly warmed, causing you to shyly look down. It was a given, what had just happened, as Ransom knew your reactions like the back of his hand. 

That arrogant jerk knew very well what he had done and slightly leaned over to kiss your bowed head.

Confidently, Ransom spoke up, and without even looking over at him, you just knew he was smirking. 

“Still have that effect on you, huh?” 

Before you could banter back at him, your arm interlocked with Ransom’s was tugged, prompting you to look up. 

Apparently, when you were just mindlessly walking to the restaurant, Ransom had another stop on his list. One full of eye-catching flower bouquets. Blood red roses, yellow lilies, variegated tulips, you name it, they littered the glass window of the flower shop. 

As you stepped into the shop, the distinctive smell of baby’s breath filled your senses. You were still interlocked with Ransom, so at this point wherever he walked, you went. Also meaning he’d dragged you to the counter despite your words of defiance.

“Ransom, you don’t need to buy me anything. All I want is to eat lunch, with my husband.”

“And that you’ll get.”

Just when you’d thought you’d won this argument, the man continued.

“Along with the bouquet of carnations and baby’s breath please.

Your husband spoke up just a bit louder, so the man behind the counter could hear his order while also making it known to you that you were indeed gonna accept these flowers. 

Ransom quickly paid for the bouquet, coming back to lock arms with you and hand you the flowers. It was a simple bouquet yet the meaning behind the choice a lot stronger. Coral carnations ideally intermixed with the snow-white baby’s breath. The soft aroma from earlier, now in a bouquet held by your cold hands. 

When you were young, your grandmother would always buy carnations for her home, specifically the coral ones. She’d tell you about each flower and how they were all unique, capturing your curiosity. As you got older, you became more versed in floral design and structure. Soon, you were going every other day to buy fresh carnations for your grandmother. When you had first brought Ransom to meet her, she told him about the story behind carnations and when you were always buying them. 

To this day, Ransom remembers, and the carnations have since then become your flower.

If it weren’t for the constant wind, the temperature would have been enjoyable, but now your hands were slightly shaking and Ransom noticed. Taking your free hand in his, he then put your conjoined hands in his coat pocket.

Just a few more blocks and you had finally made it to the humble little sandwich shop, one Ransom had actually introduced to you. 

Mr. Miller, the owner of the shop happily greeted you both. Over the years you’ve lived in Massachusetts, you and Ransom have become regulars at this shop. It may have been a small place, with seating for only thirty people, yet the food was outstanding. Especially Mr. Miller’s Monte Cristo, your’s and Ransom’s favorite. To no surprise, that is in fact what you ended up ordering. 

As you sat at the booth, the two of you laughing and enjoying the time spent with each other, never once did it cross your mind that this was it. That this was not gonna be the normal anymore. It’d become a memory you’d end up savoring for the years of the future.

Because little did you know, that was the last time he’d ever buy you flowers, the last time he’d ever laugh with you…

The last time he’d ever really love you. 

That very next day, you woke up early to pack your bags for the unbearable flight to come. You absolutely hated the airport, but then again, who doesn’t? It was a constant marathon and by time you make it to all your gates, you’d probably lose ten pounds from running so much. There was no peace at the airport, especially with the holiday rush and you dreaded it. If only your husband could have come, it would make things ten times better, but he can’t and you aren’t going to miss this opportunity. It’s been a few years since you’ve been able to go home, and truly relax for the holidays. The years before, you’d only get to spend the weekend, but now you have the whole week and in the end, it’d be worth the living hell at the airport. 

By 10:00 am, you were all ready to go, Ransom carrying the bags to your car, sulking as he did so. He really wanted to go with you. Believe it or not, but Ransom would love to spend all his time with you if he could, except Harlan really needed his help to finish up a few things. 

With everything packed, it finally came time for you to bid goodbye. Sure, it was a week away, but this was your first Christmas as a married couple, and you couldn’t spend it together. Had things been different, you could have, but Ransom understood you missed your family. For once in his life, Ransom Drysdale thought about someone else’s benefit beside his own. 

The car running, you flung your arms around Ransom, who stood at the door, coffee in hand, balancing it as he reciprocated the hug.

He could feel your tears on his neck, running through his sweatshirt. Your head was buried in the crevice, and your sobs made his heart shatter. Ransom couldn't bear it anymore, because soon he’d be the one crying. A warm hand, ran up and down your back while soothing whispers rang in your ear.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay.”

Your sobs that racked your body soon ceased, Ransom pulling back to give you his best attempt at a smile. His eyes worriedly scanned over your red ones before pulling you into a soothing kiss. Releasing your lips, Ransom once again gave you a comforting smile, handing you the coffee, knowing you had forgotten your own. 

“Go on, you’re gonna be late, my love.”

On tippy toes, you pressed your lips to the corner of Ransom’s, slowly leaning away, then solemnly heading to your car. 

That night, you had called Ransom, telling him you made it safely and that you’d facetime him tomorrow. In his voice, Ransom hid his sorrow, but in truth, ever since you left this morning, he’d been wallowing in despair. What better way to drown out your sorrows than to actually do that? So just as Ransom hung up the phone, he dashed to the car and to the nearest bar, slowly easing the pain via eight beers. 

Just about to ring up the bartender for a check, a small, womanly hand slowly wrapped around his forearm, setting it back down on the counter.

“Hey stranger.”

Ransom was so intoxicated, he struggled to even focus, but all he knew was that a woman was sitting in front of him and he sure was missing his wife. It was wrong, but at that moment, his priorities blurred the minute the girl’s lips smothered his. There weren’t boundaries anymore and he knew damn well, that this lady was making his thoughts and good judgement dissipate, he forgot why he was even there in the first place. Right now, you were in the back of his drunken mind, and Blair in the front. Literally and figuratively. 

The two broke away from the kiss for air, and Ransom soon remembered the woman staring seductively at him. At this moment, the man was no longer in his own mindset and was reverting back to his old self. The playboy Ransom Drysdale was out tonight, not the man bound by the ring on his finger. 

“It’s Blair right?”

She nodded, a few waves of chestnut brown hair moving with her head. Soon drinks long forgotten, Ransom threw down a one-hundred dollar bill, taking Blair by the hand, and out the door. As he gripped her warm hand, he could feel the cold metal of his wedding ring, slightly breaking him out of his lustful haze as mentally kicked himself for what just almost happened. He let out a small laugh, you were always there to keep him in line, whether he accepted it or not. And thank god for that, he thought. After that little reminder, it was like he had sobered up.

About to send Blair back into the bar, lips peppered small kisses to his ear and his fresh mindset was thrown out the window. The sober thoughts now gone. Starting that car engine and driving out with Blair in the passenger seat, Ransom was unknowingly throwing away the best thing to ever happen to him. By doing this, long gone was the better man you had helped make Ransom become.

 If only he had been strong enough to fight the temptation and listen to the little warning the symbol of your love (his ring) gave him...

And that night, as Ransom washed away his longing for you with Blair, you laid awake in your childhood bed, happily replaying the memory of lunch with Ransom just the day before. Soon, you’d be reliving that memory in your head, more often than once, but with tears streaming down your face. 

taglist: @kiwihoee @buckybarnesthehotshot @memissbee @tricereads @tonystankschild @coffeebooksandfandom @ria132love @what-is-your-wish​ @maan24​ @bval-1​ @jemimah-b99​

If I’ve messed up and tagged the wrong person, please lemme know. I’m very tired and typing up the taglist was probably not the best idea.

[rachel-matteo-merlin-recs]

Canon Era - Single Fic Arcs

Rheged

Author: McShame

Description: 

Post S5 (AU): canon to the end of S4 & part of the way through S5. 

Gwen and Arthur have been married for several years, Merlin’s magic has been revealed and Arthur has now reached a kind of cold peace with it.  Then a delegation arrives from a kingdom based on magic, and suddenly Destiny is starkly and ruthlessly thrust to the fore.  The question is should - can - it be avoided? 

Word Count: 124,383

Completed: Yes

Comment(s): 

Definitely might want to pay attention to the tags on this one; one scene can be interpreted both as dubious consent (but more like a I want this, but I can’t do this type of situation), as well as mentions of infidelity and attempted suicide by magic because Merlin just doesn’t want to deal with the fallout and aftermath of his and Arthur’s actions and the consequences it has on their relationships with Gwen and Gwaine.  But if you can handle the rough spots, this fic is truly spectacular.  

Whispering Your Name

Author: CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Description:

A different take on the dorocha.  Instead of them being faceless screams that attack you, they are actually figures of the dead.  Merlin doesn’t quite realize how much death affected him until him and the knights go to close the veil.  

Word Count: 22,517

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

One of my absolute favorite fics of all time.  It also has a bit of Uther redemption in it and Lancelot lives! It also has one of my favorite interactions in a fanfiction: 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Arthur growled, throwing up his hands.  “That thing murdered my people and you allowed it to live--” 

“You murdered my people and I allowed you to live,” Merlin said sharply.  Gwaine felt his eyes widen.  Bold words.  Part of him wanted to ‘ooh’ at it but knew it would lead to a very bad outcome.  

Dower the Stars

Author: RurouniHime

Description:

During a time of great prosperity in Albion, the Druids offer Emrys a precious gift.  Arthur is not amused. 

Word Count: 40,654

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

A super fun but also very romantic fic.  Druids far and wide come in and kiss Merlin, hoping that their magic will react a certain way with Merlin’s and he’ll bond with one of them.  Merlin however decides to throw a wrench in his plan when he chooses to bond with Arthur instead after almost losing him.  

Overstepping

Author: Masked_Mayhem

Description:

Merlin knew he was pushing his limits, that he was millimetres away from overstepping the invisible line that Arthur had wordlessly set and the warlock had been careful not to cross, but he was never one to listen to the rules that were set for him.  Especially not when he was afraid. 

Agravaine had managed to weasel his way into his king’s mind and ingrain doubts in the people he loved, the people that loved him...doubts that only took place and bloomed as the traitor lied and deceived and planted things against them. He had gotten rid of Gwen easily enough, and had almost gotten rid of Gaius. Merlin was afraid. Were a few words and items all it would take for Arthur to turn against him too?

Word Count: 51,915

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Merlin steps over a line and Arthur punishes him for it.  Later, when Merlin was right, Arthur regrets his decision and saves him.  Romance blooms between the two, but a wrench gets thrown in along the way with the reveal of Merlin’s magic and deeds in Arthur’s name.  There is a lot of angst, but I like to feel as if it’s a happy ending for the two.  

Springes to Catch Woodcocks

Author: myashke

Description:

When Arthur pushes Merlin away to protect him, what lengths will Merlin go to remain in his life

Word Count: 83,292

Completed: No

Comment(s): 

Unfortunately the only negative that this fic has going for it is that it doesn’t seem as if it’ll ever be finished.  There are 7 chapters and they were last updated in December of 2011.  Still worth the read.  

Two Souls

Author: Naelyn

Description:

A few days after Camlann, Merlin and Morgana find themselves imprisoned in the same place, and forced to spend their days together.  Basically, this is just a pretext for non-stop Merlin and Morgana interaction once the Emrys reveal has been made. 

“I’ve gone soft over the day, you know.  A few months ago, I would have killed you where you stood.” 

“A few months ago, you did try to kill me where I stood,” Merlin reminded her, and she could hear the smirk in his tone.  

Word Count: 11,417

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

One of the only fics on this list that won’t be specifically a Merthur fic; but it still isn’t Mergana either.  The idea is that after the revelation at Camlann, one can assume that Arthur lived and that Morgana wasn’t killed; that Merlin had been banished or sent away for the lies he told and somehow was subsequently captured.  

What starts out as a hostile interactions between Merlin and Morgana leads to understanding and apologies that lead on a path to healing.  The end is left open ended, it’s implied that they are sent to their deaths in another kingdom without hope of being rescued, but you can use your imagination to decide if you wanted them to have a happier ending.  

The Patter of Tiny Feet on Cold Stone Floors

Author: TheAvalonian

Description:

When Guinevere finds that she is unable to bear Arthur a child, Merlin offers her the perfect solution: an ancient spell which can create new life out of love, if that love is pure and powerful enough.  But after the ritual, it becomes increasingly obvious that while Gwen has indeed become pregnant, the child she carries might not have been created from the love between Arthur and his wife - but rather from the love between Arthur and his Court Sorcerer.  

Word Count: 79,131

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Merlin and Arthur have a baby!  But it’s not an mpreg fic.  Guinevere discovers that Arthur and Merlin are more tied together than she and Arthur are - and while that is difficult for her to come to terms with, she concedes that Arthur has the chance that she never had with Lancelot and doesn’t want to stand in the way.  Queue of course evil plotting on behalf of Morgana and a kidnapping of the queen and princess - who happens to have shown gifts of her own - and it’s a rollercoaster of a tale that leaves you wanting more.  

Metamorphose

Author: clotpolesonly

Description:

When Merlin falls into bed with Arthur, he doesn’t expect to wake up alone.  He doesn’t expect Arthur to give him the cold shoulder either, but there is something else he expects even less which forces him out of the kingdom for over a year. 

He returns to find a traitor in the court, an army on the way, and a love he’d thought all but lost waiting for him with open arms.  

Word Count: 33,753

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

I don’t usually enjoy mpreg fics because they don’t make sense to me from a biological stand point and usually get explained away as “because reasons”.  This fic is an exception, it does a good job of explaining why it is that Merlin might wound up in his situation and it deals with difficult question about how to handle the knowledge and who to share it with.  

Flowers in the Wind

Author: the_seaworthy_muffin

Description:

A thousand and five-hundred years ago, Arthur Pendragon is sent to the god Emrys as Camelot’s yearly tribute.  He comes to befriend the god, and as the prince continues to spend time on the god’s island, something more seems to blossom between them.  But then the Lady Morgana goes missing, and Arthur betrays Emrys to his father in a moment of misguided trust.  Emrys’ island burns, the heart-broken god refusing to fight for his life.  In dying, he puts a terrible curse upon the prince: to live forever, and never forget. 

A millennium and a half has passed.  Arthur is being slowly torn apart from the inside-out, memories of the past an ever-growing weight in his chest.  When he finally finds Emrys again, he is elated - he’s ready to beg, weep, anything, if only he can find blissful forgetfulness.  But while the god’s power has not faded, his memories have, and he lives his life as young artist Merlin Emrys, believing himself to be a simple man with interesting gifts.  And Arthur’s hopes are dashed.  But there is one last way: Arthur can try, and make Merlin remember again. 

Word Count: 67,366

Completed: No - but it is being continuously updated

Comment(s): 

This is a truly spectacular work of fiction and I almost didn’t give it a chance.  I am so glad that I did.  Honestly, this is now one of my favorite authors on AO3.  

Peace, Plum, Pear

Author: sweetestdrain

Description:

How in his tenth year of rule King Arthur chose a man to take the role of Court’s Magician, and how Arthur made his decision.

Word Count: 13,700

Completed: Yes

Comment(s): 

Merlin fled the kingdom after Uther found out about his magic, and now it’s been ten years since the old king’s death and Arthur’s ascension to the throne, and yet Merlin is still nowhere to be found.  

Arthur gives in and holds trials for the new Court Sorcerer and in walks in an old man named Myrddin Wyllt.  But, there’s more than meets the eye to this strange and mysterious magician.  

Deluge

Author: Suaine

Description:

In the aftermath of Merlin’s battle against Nimueh, the rain seems a minor complication, perhaps even a cleansing influence.  When the rain doesn’t stop, Camelot is pushed to the brink once more.  This time, Arthur may be in over his head.  

Contains: a lot of wet boys in emotional scenes, Arthur knowing more than he lets on, Merlin being an idiot, both of them being a bit stupidly heroic, telepathic chess, rain (lots of), war, making out against a tree, coincidental druids, co-opted history, co-opted myths, magic, coming of age (metaphorically), and more magically annoying yet surprisingly un-floody water than you can shake a stick at.  

Word Count: 50,565

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Beautifully written fic, truly a great addition to the fandom. 

Idiosyncratic Romance

Author: F0rcryinoutloud

Description:

“And what about your destiny?” Gaius asked softly.  “Merlin, you know Arthur needs you - whether he realizes it or not.  You won’t have to hide from him forever.”  

Word Count: 13,942

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Beauty in the Ashes of our Lives

Author: Fulgance

Description:

After Merlin is executed for Uther’s murder, Arthur’s world falls apart. 

Word Count: 21,599

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Arthur makes a huge mistake when he executes Merlin following the reveal of his magic.  

Tiercel 

Author: waldorph

Description:

Arthur is constantly at war. 

Word Count: 6,571

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

This is a wonderful magic reveal fic where Merlin goes out and discovers more about magic while still taking care of Arthur and protecting him; Arthur is constantly at war because Uther has decided he wants to take over and unite Albion.  

[petri808]

A Sun-Kissed Getaway

My artist partner @reishichi beautiful companion piece to my story. Rei was awesome to work with, sweet, go check out her art!!! 💜💜 This was for the @todomomo-mini-bang-2020 

The scent of the salty ocean air held hints of life and notes of esoteric mysteries swirling through the breezes that wrapped along the sun-kissed beach they stood on.  He couldn’t have picked a more perfect spot to bring his wife Momo to.  Secluded and peaceful compared to the hectic city world they lived in.  The skies were radiant with different shades of blue as far as the eye could see and embraced at the horizon into the covetous waters like a lover returning home.

But as beautiful as this landscape was, it didn’t hold a flame in his heart like the gorgeous woman before him.  Her dark raven tresses float behind her in gentle wisps and flurries, only tamed in part by the loose clip that binds it up.  He watches her pause and bend down to pick up a shell, turning it in her hand before placing it back where she’d found it.  Always the curious bookworm, cultured and mindful of her surroundings.  She turns her attention to the ocean and closes her eyes.  

He smiles at her upturned expression as she soaks in this entrancing milieu.  It was one he could understand and appreciate too.  

Their work as heroes was a daunting task at times.  Not just physically taxing but emotionally draining when you’re dealing with the dregs of society.  Villains and the victims left in their wake.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if these degenerates could just stick to battling with the law rather than dragging innocents into the mix. But he digresses.  This was not the time to brood upon the negatives of their chosen professions.  

“Shouto,” a soft melody crosses his hearing, and he shifts his focus to its source.  He sees her outstretched hand, beckoning him to her.  

He smiles once more and closes the gap between them, taking hold and entwining his fingers with hers.  She squeezes and runs her thumb soothingly over the skin, wiping away the dissolution as if it’d never taken place.  This is why he loved her so much.  With just a tender touch, she could send away the weary and brighten his world anew.  He lifts her hand and places a chaste kiss to its back.  “Shall we,” he questions, gesturing to the stretch of coastline.  She smiles with a light blush filtering onto her cheeks and nods in agreement.    

They walk along the beach hand in hand in mellow conversation.  The warm white sand speckled with various shades from corals of long ago cushion each step they take.  It was nice, like a massage for their bare feet, and he appreciated that nature was kind enough not to burn today.  No other souls were around to disturb them, except for the occasional call of a seabird or the skittering of a hermit crab.  Just the tranquil roil of the waves ebbing and flowing against the sand or the shifting leaves of the trees that dot the edge of the shoreline.

It takes about an hour for them to make it to the end of the beach where a sheer cliff face rises up an unknown amount of stories and blocks their way.  This beach was carved from a valley and only accessible with four-wheel drive.  Of course, for those with a quirk like he had, travel to a remote location wasn’t so much of an issue.  But to make it a day when they could forget about their quirks and just be normal for once, he’d borrowed a friend’s truck to get through the forest trail.  

With no reason to hurry, they simply turn around and enjoy the stretch of paradise, making their way back to their little camp for the day.  It was almost lunchtime and his wife had prepared bento meals for them to fuel their day off.  Along with an oversized blanket and small cooler with drinks, it was the perfect set up for a relaxing picnic by the sea.

How unexpected, he mused as she produced a kitchen knife and began cutting into a small watermelon.  It was the perfect refreshing treat for this warm summer day.  He makes her a small table of ice to cut the fruit on and lay the pieces out to chill.  “Lunch was delicious Momo, thank you,” he kisses her cheek as she finishes chopping.

She blushes lightly in a smile, “you’re welcome Shouto.”      

He was a lucky man that his wife was such an amazing cook.  Cooking was one skill that he could never master no matter how many times his sister Fuyumi tried to teach him.  But he’s always been just a simple man, nothing fancy required, and content with a cold plate of soba.  His wife was a different story.  Raised to be the perfect balance of elegance and sophistication, used to the finer things in life, yet never pretentious or snobby.  

Though they’d come from the upper echelon of society, their families couldn’t have been more different from one another.  It was strange to him at first.  She was so settled and worldly compared to him, a top-ranked student and yet adorably self-conscious.  While he came from a broken home life, an overbearing father, while still managing to develop his own identity.  But he digresses.  They did have one thing in common.  He leans back on the blanket and closes his eyes to the memory.  

All through high school they’d been completely clueless, and it wasn’t until after graduation, with the help of their friends pointing out the blaring reality of their feelings for one another.

“What are you smiling about?”

Her voice pulls him back.  “Just you,” he takes the piece of watermelon she holds out to him, “and how happy you make me.”

“Aww,” she giggles and hides her smile behind her hand, “you make me happy too.”

Even after all these years he could make her blush with the simplest of compliments.  Her bright smile and the twinkle in her eye whenever she laughed or giggled always made his heart flutter wildly despite the stoic expression on his face.  She’s the only woman who could pull these emotions from him.  Others had tried and failed in the past, and maybe it was with that realization that he was finally able to process their friend’s words all those ages ago.  ‘You love her…’  

‘Yes, I do…’  It was because of her kind encouragement that he was truly able to forgive his father for all the man had done to their family.  Her support gave him strength and her love gave him fuel to be the best hero he could be.  

He feels a weight on his shoulder.  It was Momo resting her head against it while she nibbles on a piece of watermelon and stares out over the ocean.  He kisses her temple and wraps his arm around her, leaning his head against hers.  This would make a for a perfect picture, but he couldn’t bring himself to spoil the moment by pulling out his phone.  That was okay, such memories will always live on within them.

A light sigh and a shift by his wife to further wrap her arms around his mid-section.  She was so content it was a shame that they would have to leave this beach soon.  One didn’t need a watch to know the time, as the sun slowly made its trek across the sky towards the horizon, and the shadows from the tree line washed over their picnic spot.  He of all people understood the power of the elements, yet in that moment, even the roar of the waves was but a peaceful undertone to relax away all the painful toils of their lives and send them away to the depths of the sea.  

“So beautiful,” the words wisp out from Momo’s lips as she stared at the sunset.

How often do they ever get to enjoy this natural phenomenon, and today seemed even more spectacular than he remembered?  The reddish orange ball of fire sent colored heat waves stretching out along the horizon, like a distorted image on a television screen, and darkening the further it settled below the sea blue threshold.  But above it, the colors blended wildly with the sky to produce brilliant purple and blue hues broken up between the spattering of pink orange clouds travelling across the heavens.  

“It’s time to go,” he kisses his wife and gives her arm a gentle squeeze.

“I know,” she sighs.  

“We’ll come back again.  I promise.”

She smiles, “thank you for today Shouto, I really needed this.”

He leans his forehead to hers and closes his eyes, cradling the back of her head.  There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.  She was everything to him.  “No.  I’m the one who’s thankful,” he leans in and places a lingering kiss on her lips.  “You make me the happiest man in the world.”

“I love you Shouto.”

“I love you too Momo.”

And as they make their way over to the car, he wraps his arm around her shoulder to guide her, taking one last look at the expanse of sand and sea.  Growing up, he’d never expected to be as happy as he was with moments like this one.  Nevertheless, just like that setting sun, old childhood wounds dissolve away into the abyss, leaving just the starry skies that blink of possibilities.  There may not be any photographic chronicles of their adventure today, but the memories will forever be ingrained in their hearts and the love of a woman who helped him get here.  

❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍🥳🥳 Bonus Birthday add on: @reishichi​  Happy Birthday!

As he lay there in the early morning hours, the sun’s rays were just barely peeking through the sheer curtains. Shouto smiles as he gazes lovingly over his wife’s face imagining how lucky he was to have her in his life. It had been a few weeks since their little beach outing, and oh how he wished they’d had more time for such moments. To relax and pretend all the cares of the world had disappeared. If he could spin their world into a perfect utopia for her, he would do it in a heartbeat.

He gently brushes away the stray ebony hairs that have drifted over her face, careful not to wake her. Momo’s shift the evening prior had been a long one, and he wanted to let her sleep in as long as possible. She looked so peaceful lightly curled against his side, trusting of his protection. Her porcelain skin coming alive with the light of the sun.

There was only one thing he could think of to make their lives better than it already was, but it was something that brought trepidation and fears along with the excitement and bliss. He was afraid to bring up the topic of starting a family. Was he ready, were they ready? Oh, who was he kidding, Momo would be an excellent mother. It was he and his poor childhood that caused him the greater pause.

She would probably tell him the opposite, Shouto you’ll be an amazing father… he chuckles in his head as he remembers the long-ago recertification exam. As the baby of the family, he had no experience dealing with children. They were like strange creatures to him that he couldn’t understand. Some people take to parenting naturally, but he just knew that wouldn’t be him. And yet despite those concerns, the desire to have a child with Momo outweighed those fears.

Imagine it… going back to that beach with a little one in tow. Watching him or her scurry after crabs or chasing the waves as they ebb and flow along the sand. Building sandcastles and napping under the sun after a yummy lunch prepared by his wife. A picture of pure bliss that he would love and cherish and give the child all the love he never received growing up with his own father. Bet his siblings would be thrilled to be an aunt and uncle.

When the time feels right, he’ll broach the question. He kisses Momo’s forehead and rests his chin amongst her tresses, closing his eyes with a smile. Sleep my love, as we dream of a sun-kissed future.

[everlastingcaptainswan]

Contractual Attraction  (10/?) 

Enchanted Forest AU 

Summary: The war had raged on for many years, the people of Misthaven would say too many, and there was only one way to end it, only one way to quiet talks of rebellion. Princess Emma of Misthaven would have to marry the enemy, Prince Killian of Montave.

Notes: Hope y’all are having a good week! Just a little more angst, but I promise good things are coming!

Ao3        FF

Chapter Ten: Actions Speak Louder Than Words

The Royal Family had an early start the next morning with a tour of the village, an address to the people, and a dinner with the nearby lords and ladies. Personally, Emma would rather be on the battlefield again rather than do this. She loved seeing her people, but speaking to a crowd was not her favorite and the lords are about as exciting as toast. Not to mention she would have to spend the day with Killian and right now she wanted nothing to do with him. She was still furious with him. He never returned to the ball last night. Which she was fine with, he could go skulk and think about what he had done. Emma would have to play nice with him and put on a pretty face for everyone. To limit her exposure to him she took breakfast in her chambers that morning. After she dressed for the day in a simple white dress Leo came to fetch her, 

“Are you hiding from him?” He asked in lieu of a greeting. 

“No, not hiding. I didn’t really feel like seeing him. I’m already going to have to spend the day with him.” She rolled her eyes. 

“If it’s any consolation he looked miserable at breakfast, maybe you should talk to him.” He shrugged. 

“Are you defending him?” Emma almost stomped her foot, but restrained herself. 

“Of course not, but he was blindsided, and you have to spend the rest of your life with him, are you going to be mad at him forever?” He sighed at his sister’s antics. 

“I can certainly try,” she mumbled, placing the tiara on her head. It matched the one Leo was wearing, a solid gold band encircling his head. The only difference was hers had a simple diamond in the center. They left her room and began their descent down the stairs. 

“He hasn’t even apologized to me yet.” 

“Pretty hard to do when you hide from him.” He gave her a pointed look and Emma hated to admit it, but he was right. 

“Just hear him out.” Leo shrugged. 

“Why do you care so much?” 

“If I kept my mouth shut this wouldn’t be happening and I don’t want the treaty in danger because of something I did.” Emma stopped on the stairs and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Oh Leo, no. Look, peace may have been fragile at first, but Killian needs this just as much as we do. I know him enough now to say he’s not going anywhere. We will work through this, but the treaty is fine.” 

“How do you know that?”

“Killian saved my life on the ship, there was an accident. He could’ve let me die, let the treaty fall through. He didn’t. He cares as much as we do.” Leo nodded and they continued on. 

Killian, Snow, and David were waiting for them at the bottom of the staircase. Emma desperately wanted to be angry at Killian, to be furious, but he looked apologetic and damn good in his regal red outfit. She was mad that he would doubt her and call her a liar. They both have things they haven’t been honest about. 

Killian will never not be struck by her beauty. It could be an elaborate gown for a ball, her vest and pants on a ship, or a simple gown for a tour of the town. She’s beautiful in every situation. 

He shouldn’t have blown up like he did last night. He was just so thrown off by it, it had completely blindsided him. Killian knew she was still mad with him, but now was not the time for his apologies. He nodded and held out his hand to her when she approached him. Emma nodded, but said nothing. She was definitely still upset with him. 

Snow saw the interaction between the two and sent Leo and David ahead. 

“You two need to act like you at least like each other.” Snow crossed her arms looking expectantly at each of them. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. I don’t know what happened between you last night, but our people will not accept him if you don’t. Now, you have five minutes before the carriage leaves.” Snow glided out looking as graceful as ever. Emma turned to Killian. He looked a little bewildered by Snow’s blunt honesty.

“Love last night was a mistake. I’m sorry for how I acted. I felt like we had grown closer over the voyage and I felt betrayed. You were right we both have hidden truths and I shouldn’t have-” Emma squeezed his hand. 

“I should have told you. Men don't exactly react well to being told they’ll never be in power. At first, I was afraid it would ruin the treaty. Now, I just-” She shook her head. 

“I understand why you wouldn’t tell me; I can’t imagine suitors would like the idea. I’m not them, I’m not running away. You and I will be partners until the end.” He reached out and touched her face. He thought she would flinch away or worse hit him. She didn't, she gave him a soft smile. 

“How would you like to see Misthaven?” Killian squeezed her hand. 

“Show me your kingdom, love.” Killian gestured out in front of him, letting her lead the way. 

They walked out to the carriages and Snow lifted her eyes at their linked hands. Emma gave a small nod. Killian and Emma shared a carriage to themselves and the rest of her family led the way through the village. While the people were ecstatic to see Emma and cheered for her, they seemed to fall silent and gave Killian weary looks, unsure of what to think of the foreign Prince. The whole time Emma plastered a smile on her face. She interlaced her fingers with his, their connected hands displayed for everyone to see. 

Emma showed him all of the village surrounding the castle, her people with their works of artistry. From blacksmithing to jewelry makers. They toured the market full of the various crops of the kingdom, it was nothing compared to the market it the summer, but for winter it was a true accomplishment of her people. 

Most of the people gave Killian a wide berth, not wanting to be close. A few were more open with their displeasure by glaring at Killian. He gave them no attention and was kind to every person he met, not that Emma expected any differently. She smiled at him often, her hand never far from his. She thought it would bother her, but it didn’t, not in the slightest. Today was about showing her people her acceptance of Killian, so they would accept him. Not only that Emma felt true ease and comfort around him that had been building for a while now. 

They toured some of Misthaven’s countryside and gave Killian a chance to view Misthaven’s spectacular mountains. Overall Emma would’ve called today a success. However now the royal family has to host a dinner party for the lords and ladies of Misthaven. They wanted to get a sense of their soon to be king. 

On their way to the Great Hall for dinner, Snow was stopped by Graham, who muttered something and gave her a note. They all waited outside the Great Hall while her eyes darted back and forth across the small page. Snow sighed and looked at Killian. Graham waited for further instruction. 

“What is it? Is it Liam? Elsa? The babe?” Every terrible scenario running through his head. Emma wanted to reach out to him, to let him know she was there, but his hands were clenched into fists.

“They’re fine. The note is about your ship. It was stopped in the channel, by one of our few remaining ships. They apparently didn’t believe a naval ship would have the diplomatic papers we issued them, and your crew is currently being held. Graham send word to release the Prince’s crew and send the boat on its way. Make sure to relay to any of our other ships to not stop it.” 

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Graham nodded, before running off to follow Snow’s orders. 

“How could this happen?” Killian asked Snow, fear and anger evident in his stance. 

“I can’t control everyone in my command, no matter how much I try. You led men; you understand all too well what I am talking about.” Killian nodded she was right he did indeed know all too well. 

“Are my men alright?” 

“No deaths, they surrendered. Everyone is fine, knowing Graham your ship should be here by next week.” Killian still looked like he had gotten terrible news. He simply nodded and wandered down the hall. 

“What on earth is his problem?” David asked Emma, who just shook her head. 

“I don’t know.” She frowned, looking after Killian. 

“Find out, will you? We’ll entertain our guests until you return,” Snow sighed. Emma nodded and turned away from her family. She followed Killian down the hallway at a slow pace. She knew he needed time to cool down, she doesn’t understand what this meant to him, but it’s important. 

Emma finally caught up to him in an alcove overlooking the palace grounds. Killian’s back is to her, his hands gripping the ledge of the windowsill. 

“Killian.”

“If you’re here to drag me into that dinner, I can’t! This is bloody unbelievable; I can’t go out there and pretend everything is alright.” Killian let go of the windowsill, and clenched his fists. Emma could feel the anger emanating from him, she knew the anger wasn’t toward her. She reached out placing a hand on his arm. 

“Then let’s go somewhere else.” Surprise crossed his face. 

“What? Don’t we have to charm those lords and ladies at dinner with your parents and brother?” He shook his head in confusion. Emma took his hand and led him through a door that did not lead back to the great hall. 

“We definitely do,” she snorted. 

“Then, where the hell are we going?” Emma stopped and turned to look at him. 

“Do you really think I am a perfect princess who always does as she’s told?” His face turned red and he scratched his ear, his nervous tick that she was growing to love.  

“No, but what does that-” she began pulling him forward again. They went down another passageway, one that led to the stables. 

“Stop worrying about the lords and ladies of Misthaven, they’ll live with our absence for today. Now, pick a horse.” Emma led him into the stable, finally letting go of his hand to tend to Buttercup. Killian stopped in front of a beautiful black Friesian horse. 

“That’s Orion,” Emma said across the stables. Killian nodded while he prepared Orion, who took to Killian much better than Emma thought he would. They mounted their horses and Emma turned to Killian, “Are you ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be, lass,” he smirked. She smiled and led the way. They moved swiftly through the grounds and the fields surrounding the castle. 

They slowed when they reached the forest, maneuvering the horses through the dense trees. Emma dismounted Buttercup when they reached a beautiful lake with a waterfall. Without a word to him she walked toward the waterfall and for one moment he swore she disappeared into the cliffside. When he got closer, he saw her nestled in the cliffside in a nook that Emma was leaning against. 

“I thought you disappeared in a mere blink of an eye,” he whispered, the waterfall roaring next to them. 

“Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Emma has that mischievous glint in her eye that Killian is learning to love and hate at the same time. 

“Good. What is this place?”

“One of my favorite hiding places. The waterfall is great to cool off in the summertime, right now it’s just beautiful to look at.”

“One of?”

“A rebellious princess needs many, don’t you know…” he chuckled at this, “Killian, I need to know the truth.” The laughter stopped and he swallowed, feeling his airway constricting. 

“About?” 

“Your ship. You looked absolutely panicked, way more than I would’ve suspected. Even when assured it would be resolved you couldn’t go to the dinner. So, if you’d like my help you need to tell me what’s going on.” She never broke eye contact with him, never blinking. 

“It’s not simple.” Is all he can manage to get out. Her gaze is unwavering and relentless, never judgmental though. 

“It never is.” 

“This damned war nearly broke our people; it certainly broke our very limited farmers and trade. We relied heavily on fishing as an export and well we took those fishermen into war and soon there was very little to trade, we were trying to keep our people alive and fed. With each passing year it got worse and worse. We had trade agreements for a few years that helped, but other countries were so fearful of war and what it would do to their country, so they never held up,” he rambled on. Emma laid a hand on his chest. 

“Killian! What does this have to do with your ship?” Her eyes searching his, looking for the answer he couldn’t seem to give her. 

“My people need food, grain, seeds, whatever I can get them. Emma, they’ll die without it. I was going to send over some food and seeds to help the few farmers we have. My people need me, I can’t let them down.” She closed her eyes and cursed him. He might be smart on the sea and with strategy, but he had a long way to go when it came to diplomacy. She opened her eyes to find he had retreated slightly. 

“Why didn’t you ask for a trade agreement in the treaty?” 

“What?” His brow furrowed, not expecting that answer. Truly the thought hadn’t occurred to him or Liam. 

“Killian, we aren’t heartless. We don't want your women and children to suffer, to starve. We would’ve made it work, just as we will now. Do you not trust me?” 

“Love, I trust you more than anyone else in the realm right now. I have followed you into what used to be enemy territory, my life is quite literally in your hands.” With each word he moved closer to her and they were chest to chest, almost touching one another. 

“But you couldn’t come to me for help?” she whispered, and he placed a hand on the cliffside. 

“Not then. Not when peace was riding on every action and reaction.” He shook his head. 

“What about now? Did you really think I wouldn’t help?” she asked him, her voice wavering, her hurt evident. 

“I was afraid. Emma, please I trust you. Everyone is counting on me. This wasn’t about you, it was about my fear clouding my judgement,” he pleaded with her. 

“I see, we should head back now. At least make an appearance for dessert.” Emma pushed past him, back to Buttercup. 

“Of course,” he muttered after her. He worried that this truth had ruined everything building between them. They rode back in silence to the stables; Emma didn’t know what to say to him. She was beginning to trust him and now this. 

“Love,” Killian started. 

“Not your love,” she threw the words back at him. Killian flinched, he definitely deserved that. 

“Emma, I shouldn’t have-” 

“No, you shouldn’t have, but that’s not the point anymore. The point is your people need help. We’ll talk to my parents in the morning, figure out what we can do.” 

“What if they aren’t inclined to help?” 

“Doubtful that will happen, but then you and I will handle it ourselves.” Killian reached out for Emma’s hand, his fingers brushing hers. She moved out of his grasp, walking ahead. Killian sighed, throwing his head back.

Today had felt like a dream with her. Her smile and touches had sent him on cloud nine. Killian knew that some of it was manufactured for her people, but he couldn’t help but to revel in it. And now he feared he may never feel that again, may never feel that way with her. 

Killian took a breath and followed Emma in ready to fake a smile for these people, who he didn’t give a damn about.

[visenyatargaryn]

— OC INTERVIEW

tagged by the lovely @chuckhansen​​ and @queennymeria​​!! thank you both so much!! 💖💖

tagging: @aryastrks, @troyebakers​, @tyvians​, @callmeredhood​, @sonyarebecchi && @myrcella​ (if you’ve been tagged already, then ignore this!)

Name: Evangeline... Zotova

Are you single: No, I’m not. 

Are you happy: I... I think so, yes. Definitely yes. To be honest, I haven’t felt true happiness for quite some time. Ever since... well, you know. I had almost forgotten what it felt like... to be happy that is.

Are you angry: Right now? No. I think I’m finally at peace now, thankfully. If you had asked me that a few months ago... my answer would have been different. Back then... I was so angry at everything. The world... the Institute... and myself.

Are your parents still married: I don’t know how to answer that since they’ve been dead for over 200 years now. My mother died while giving birth to me, and my father... well, let’s just say he wished it was me that died that day. However, if it wasn’t for me being born and the world ending... I do believe my parents would still be married.

Nine Facts

Birthplace: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Hair color: Black

Eye color: Vibrant green.

Birth date: September 21, 2048

Mood: Currently? Exhausted since Hancock didn’t let me sleep much last night. Shit.. sorry, that was a bit too much information wasn’t it?

Gender: Female

Summer or winter: Summer. I hate the fucking cold, although the alternative does give me the excuse to snuggle up with Hancock.

Morning or afternoon: Mornings. I like how peaceful they are... a fresh beginning to a new day.

Eight things about your love life

Are you in love: Yes, and honestly? It’s the best feeling in the world. It’s strange... you think you loved someone in the past, thinking they were your happily ever after... but fate has different plans for you. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Daniel, but he’s dead now and I’m still alive with a long life ahead of me. And with Hancock.... things just feel different? I’m not one who believes in soulmates, but perhaps that’s what this is?

Do you believe in love at first sight: No, love doesn’t just come on a whim... it takes time to manifest.

Who ended your last relationship: ...A man by the name of Kellogg. He umm... he murdered my husband, Daniel, in cold blood. I’m sorry, but can we please change the subject?

Have you ever broken someones heart: If I have, then I have no recollection of it since I was always the one with the broken heart and not the other person.

Are you afraid of commitment: Yes, more than you think. All my life... people have been leaving me since I was a child. Hell, my own father abandoned his own daughter and fucked off to God knows where. I’ve been cheated on, and I’ve been used and left behind like some kind of fucking useless object. So yeah, I’m terrified of commitment, because the entire relationship is always one-sided in the end.

Have you hugged someone in the last week: Hancock, and only him.

Have you ever had a secret admirer: More like stalkers. When I was a... dancer at a night club in Philly, I had my fair share of creeps. It wasn’t bad at first, hell I thought it was kind of nice to have some admirers you know? They would send flowers mostly, but eventually, it became an actual fucking nightmare. There were letters. They started out as simple love letters... then they became more vulgar... and finally came the death threats. Thankfully the security in the place was decent enough to keep them away... or so I thought, but that’s a story for another time.

Have you ever broken your own heart: I don’t think so, no?

Six Choices

Love or Lust: A healthy dose of both isn’t a bad thing, actually. They are two sides of the same coin are they not? Although, I must admit that I have made a lot of poor life choices... lust being a factor in many of them.

Lemonade or Iced Tea: Lemonade. I remember when I used to live in Sanctuary before the bombs fell. The children would often put up lemonade stands during the summer, and let me tell you... the competition was neverending.

Cats or Dogs: Dogs. I love cats, don’t get me wrong, but dogs just provide better companionship in an apocalyptic world.

A few Best friends or Regular Friends: The first option I suppose. I don’t have many friends anyhow, and those that are... I trust them with my own life.

Wild night out or romantic night in: Night out. I love hearing Magnolia sing down in the Third Rail... her voice is just so soothing. Besides, it kind of comes with the package deal when it comes to Hancock.

Day or night: Nights. It’s peaceful. The world is put on hold for a few hours, and it’s a good time to just relax, you know?

Five Have You Evers

Been caught sneaking out: No. My father never paid much attention to me while growing up, so I could do whatever I please.

Fallen Down/Up the Stairs: All I’m saying is that I had a disagreement with gravity that day, and it won.

Wanted someone/something so badly it hurt: Yes... a daughter shouldn’t have to beg her father for a relationship now, should she?

Wanted to disappear: There was a time when I wanted to, yes. I wished it to be more... permanent, however. I had lost everything, and I no longer wished to keep going because what was the point? Everything about my old life was gone, as it was reduced to nothing but ash and dust, and I was a stranger forced into a foreign place.

Four preferences

Smile or eyes: Eyes. They’re something that’s easily read, and like they say... the eyes never lie.

Shorter or taller: Taller.

Intelligence or Attraction: Attraction... bonus points if they have some intelligence in them though.

Hook up or Relationship: Relationship. I’ve had my fair share of hookups... and it’s just not the same. There’s no connection, you know? It was an alternative I sometimes used to forget things... when alcohol no longer numbed the pain.

Family

Do you and your family get along: No. I never knew my mother since she died during childbirth and as for my father... he had no love for me. Yeah, he raised me and cared for me, but that’s as far as that went. I saw the way he looked at me, with such deep sadness and hatred. The sadness because I was a spitting image of her... my mother that is. As for the hatred, well he blamed me for what happened, and when he was in a drunken stupor... those nights were the worse. In all those years, however, he never hurt me... not physically anyway. Although, there are times where I find myself wondering whatever became of him. Did he live long enough to see the world end? If he did, then did he survive? Was he able to make it to a vault in time? Did he become a ghoul? I know I’ll never know the answers to these questions, and it’s foolish for me to ask myself these since there was no love between us. I guess that’s just the detective in me wanting answers for the unexplainable...

Would you say you have a messed up life: My life is a complete fucking mess if you ask me. I witnessed my husband’s death and the kidnapping of my son. Then I had to end my son’s life because he was now the head of some evil cooperation. And to top it all off, I’m now living 200 years into the future... in a world that was reduced to nothing but ash and dust all because the world leaders decided to play God. So yeah, saying my life is messed up is putting it lightly.

Have you ever ran away from home: Yes, but only after my father decided to leave one day without any signs of him returning... so I just left as well. Did I wish to run away prior to that? Absolutely. Except I had nowhere else to go, and I was far too young to live on my own.

Have you ever got kicked out: Surprisingly, no. I always expected my father to tell me to pack my bags at some point, but he never did.

Friends

Do you secretly hate one of your friends: No. If I hated someone, then I would let them know right away how I feel about them.

Do you consider all of your friends good friends: Yes. We have all been through a lot together and there are none other I would consider friends than them. Nick had been there every step of the way when it came to finding my son, and I would trust him with my own life... just as I had done the same with the real Nick Valentine. Codsworth, well, I know he’s just a robot, but he’s been a good friend and has always been supportive... and he was there since the beginning, before the war that is. Dasiy is a spectacular woman, when I first came to Goodneighbor she welcomed me with open arms... and our talks are just so wonderful since we’re both from the same time. Then there’s Hancock, of course, we’re more than friends now, but he’s... well, he’s everything I could ask for in someone.

Who is your best friend: Do I have to pick one? Because I consider all of my friends as such, but if I must choose only one, then it’s Hancock. He’s a great friend and more; Hancock was there for me when I was at my lowest point... I had just come out of the vault and I was in a shitty place; being plagued by nightmares... extreme depression... and I was a fucking alcoholic. He never walked away though, no matter how hard I tried to push... he pushed back harder. He took care of me on my bad days, and I... I don’t think there are any words or deeds that could ever be used to thank him for it?

Who knows everything about you: Hancock and Nick both perhaps? I mean, Nick has the memories of the real Nick Valentine... who I happened to work with for a time before the war. Hancock... well, there are no secrets between us, and he basically knows my entire life story as does Nick.

[ceekbee]

What to Remember When Waking Up

By Paul C Pritchard on Wednesday June 17th, 2020

Remember, Remember ...

I am sensitive and I can be hard on myself. It’s a paradoxical feeling of wanting everything to be better (I am an idealist) and then getting deeply affected by the pain of this life and those things that I want to help change. Consequently, I feel like I play a game of peekaboo with life. And that’s okay too. I come out when I can be at my most effective. And I retreat to restore and gain more resilience when needed. However, I make a promise to never give up. I hear the Dalai Lama telling me this over and over again as he’s smiling and laughing in earnest:

Never give up — No matter what is going on. Never give up. Develop the heart … Be compassionate. Not just to your friends but to everyone. Be compassionate. Work for peace in your heart and in the world. Work for peace. And I say again, Never give up. No matter what is going on around you. Never give up — Dalai Lama

At the moment, there’s a lot to be idealistic about. I don’t want to ever lose that fire in my belly for justice and graceful right action. I want to be vigilant and participate in the collaboration of change that is happening in the world right now. It excites me when: the global energy is emphatically chanting for justice and for a collective means to make amends; when there’s a conscious alignment for rebalance and a shift in global consciousness; when the sporadic and independent voices start to harmonise with synchronised purpose and when consciousness shakes the apathy, the mediocrity and the resignation out of us — making way for our souls to sing.

What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult for each other?” – George Eliot (AKA Mary Ann Evans)

I feel great comfort in my heart as I read these words, a respite from the relentless search for meaning in my life. Back in the 19th Century women were frowned upon as writers and simply were not as popular as ‘male’ writers. Subsequently, Mary Ann Evans wrote under the pseudonym George Eliot. In my commitment to truth and integrity, this fact feels important to share. No matter how big or small these gestures of restoration are, only by continuing to correct the order and equality, can we make an honest impact. And we can all make an honest impact in our very unique ways.

Alt text hereWork for peace in your heart and in the world. Never give up. Image: Christopher Campbell

Focussing on the Solution

I personally don’t like to focus too much on the past and the whys (although I feel it’s vital for our understanding). I have learned I am more useful in solution-focused energies. When there is a natural surge to make amends, the invitation arrives for me to enter the slipstream and make my voice and actions count. Some people are activists and generators. I wasn’t built like that. I’m a collaborator and support person. We are experiencing a spectacular wave of transformation energy right now and the invitation is for us all to get on board with our own personalised way of creating lasting change.

Sometimes it’s not possible to do everything. So, I like to give to causes where my contribution will have a greater impact and also an ongoing ripple effect. I believe in giving to education initiatives and also projects that support basic survival needs; clothing, food and safe-shelter. If I can make a difference in a child’s life and their education, I know I am helping pave the way for a kinder world by empowering them with skills to take care of themselves and also one another.

Other causes also grab my attention; especially when I see broken children walking around in adult bodies feeling lost and at odds with the world. All their pain and wrong choices like a snowball gathering momentum in a cold and unforgiving world. I am a great believer in reform and rehabilitation. Yet, I learned a long time ago I cannot be an idealist and a perfectionist in the area of reform and rehabilitation. I cannot click my fingers and make all the world’s pain and suffering disappear. These things take time, a lot of time. It takes generations of healing. But I am committed to at least make a start in helping broken adults now.

Planting the Seeds of a Better Future

I imagine I am planting an acorn for that big old oak to come forth. Perhaps I will never get to sit in the shade of that magnificent tree. But it does not stop me planting and protecting this acorn, this sapling, this young tree. Right now, I can find solace when I think about all the shelter this tree will provide in the many years to come.

I believe the energetic blueprint of kindness can never be destroyed — it ripples into Existence eternally. It feels humbling to know that my invisible hands and invisible work will continue to have a kind influence in the world. I plant to make the world a better place for even when I am no longer here. This is what I try and hold on to when waking up.

Alt text hereI may never reap the rewards of my actions but maybe someday, someone else will. Image: Ksenia Makagonova

David Whyte, in his simple, yet deeply profound poem, What to Remember When Waking, reminds us of what is important. Not the destination but the journey. And more importantly what qualities we hold dear as we travel as a seemingly individual being. It is to hold steadfast that small opening of remembrance and to cultivate hope and trust. To foster a purer knowing and acceptance that we are not individual beings but a spark of the one Light. He states so eloquently, “To remember the other world in this world, is to live in your true inheritance.”

When I am too hard on myself and when my idealist cannot reconcile or make sense of the world, all I have to do is remember who I truly am, remember back to where it all began, that spark of light from the one true Light. And as I beacon myself out into the world, out into the universe, I must stay present enough to be amazed at the myriad of attributes of the exquisite light refractions I experience all around me. I must wait with curiosity, in childlike wonder at what shapes the seed of me is yet to reveal. My prayer is to keep shining and reflecting back into the whole — that one particular, unique and distinctive light that I call ‘Me’.

In that first hardly noticed moment in which you wake,

coming back to this life from the other

more secret, moveable and frighteningly honest world

where everything began,

there is a small opening into the new day

which closes the moment you begin your plans.

What you can plan is too small for you to live.

What you can live wholeheartedly will make plans enough

for the vitality hidden in your sleep.

To be human is to become visible

while carrying what is hidden as a gift to others.

To remember the other world in this world

is to live in your true inheritance.

You are not a troubled guest on this earth,

you are not an accident amidst other accidents

you were invited from another and greater night

than the one from which you have just emerged.

Now, looking through the slanting light of the morning window

toward the mountain presence of everything that can be

what urgency calls you to your one love?

What shape waits in the seed of you

to grow and spread its branches

against a future sky?

Is it waiting in the fertile sea?

In the trees beyond the house?

In the life you can imagine for yourself?

In the open and lovely white page on the writing desk?

~

What does this poem evoke in you? Can you take a breath now and recognise that spark of light that you call ‘you’? What are some of the qualities that you hold dear on this journey? What shape waits in the seed of you to grow and spread its branches against a future sky?

As always, we look forward to you sharing in the comments below and as always we are with you and sharing our love with you.

Paul and Team UPLIFT

[jamlally]

Ohana

This was written for the 25 days of Christmas Challenge that is hosted by  @panicfob .  The Day 20 Challenge prompt was Family dinner

Warnings: Stupidity and Fluff

Pairing: None  - it’s just some silliness with some of the Avengers team.

Summary: Family means different things to different people. Family grow and change but despite everything families share.  This one is more of a Drabble than a full one shot

The noise around the table was at its usual low din and everyone seemed to be having a good time.  Belle watched as dishes were passed around and laughter filled the air.  This was perhaps what she enjoyed the most about having these new people in her life, the simple way that they would come together in what ever configuration was there and made things feel good.  They weren’t all best buddies, and they had their disagreements but at the end of the day they came back together.

“Get the fuck out of here”. Clint’s voice rose over the others as he disagreed about something with Same

“Ohhh don’t worry I got this Cap ‘LANGUAGE”” Tony called out getting a laugh from Natasha and the middle finger from Steve.  Belle just shook her head, this chaos somehow made her feel more at home and not uncomfortable. This kind of chaos she was learning, was a good thing. It didn’t make her heart pound with anxiety, it made her feel welcome. It had taken a while for the feeling to sit well with her.  Feeling welcome wasn’t anything she had ever really experienced before she joined this group.  Tolerated sure, but welcome was a while new ball game.  For a  long time she hadn’t felt worthy .  She hadn’t done even half of what these people had. She hadn’t lost and sacrificed what they had, why, when all of that was taken into account would they welcome her?  

One night when she was feeling particularly low she had taken herself off to the gym to run on the treadmill. It wasn’t something she enjoyed by any means, usually preferring to be outside to exercise, but it was a way that she felt she could almost punish herself for taking something that wasn’t hers. 

She was fairly sure it was sweat and not tears that were running down her face when Natasha had walked in.  The other woman wasn’t dressed to workout, and when she headed straight for Belle, she knew that for some reason she was the Widows target.  Pulling out her earphones she had slowed her pace and waited for the other woman to speak

“Tony was looking for you.  I told him I would have a look around before he set FRIDAY on the job.  You’ve seemed on edge all day”

Belle had kept her eyes forward only taking quick glances at the red head “Thanks for the heads up.  I’ll give him a shout when I’m done here”. Secretly she hoped that her short response would have Nat leaving, luck was not on her side 

“How about this is what happens. You can keep running.  I’ll send a message to Tony and when you’re done we can have a quick chat

It was clear from her tone that it wasn’t a suggestion but in fact what would be happening. That being the case Belle saw no point in answering and instead upped the pace and set about completing another 3 miles.

Natasha had just sat and paid what ever it was she was reading on her phone, not looking up until she heard the treadmill start to slow.  Then she pick dup a bottle of water, tested it open and waited for Belle to come over to the bench she was sitting on 

Belle had been grateful for the water as she sat and rubbed over her head and face with the towel waiting to see just what was on the Widows mind

“I’m not going to beat around the bush, if for no other reason that I’m fairly sure Tony will show up and even more sure you don't want him involved in this conversation.  The thing is I’ve been watching you Belle Porter and I like what I see but I also understand a little of what you’re feeling I think.  You’re family didn’t treat you well, they didn’t make sure you had the experiences that children and young adults need to be comfortable around others.  They didn’t treat you with love and affection.  Now you’re drowning.  All of us, we’re puling you into water that you don't know how to navigate, and it’s scary as hell.  I know, I felt the same thing,  There is a bit of you that says why me?  Why are these people looking out for me?  Why do they care,  they’re too good.  In the past, well it’s safe to say there were a lot of black marks against me because of it yet these people, they welcomed me and gave me a home,  You’re right to think that they are good, but don’t ever believe they are perfect.  We all have our flaws, issues and mistakes, but being in this group makes us better. Whether you believe it or not you deserve to be here, you deserve our love and even when it makes you feel like running and screaming we will understand, because each of us have been there.  Just think on it Belle ok?”  Natasha had stood squeezing her shoulder “Now unless you want Tony seeing you like this I would suggest a shower and then you go find him”.

Belle had ended up taking her advise and when Tony asked what was wrong, she had just told him she had been feeling stressed but that everything was fine.  Being more perceptive than she gave him credit for Tony had kissed her head and told her that he was there for her, good bit and not so good bits included.

Now Belle found herself looking around the table and smiling. She knew that she had lost the last of her biological family by choosing to stay here and follow her dreams, and while a small part of her would always regret that, she was building a new family here. 

“Biscuits”

Belle blinked snapping her attention back to Wanda who sat opposite her “I’m sorry Wanda - I was miles away, what were you saying”

Wanda gave her a soft smile of her own “I was asking if you would like some biscuits”. 

“OH um, you know I think I’ve got enough for now thank you though”

“The food is amazing. I hope Tony kept the number for these caterers”

Belle nodded her agreement “Even if he didn’t I know that FRIDAY has a log of all the planners and caterers that he’s used.  The food is spectacular.  I love that it’s not super fancy though”

Wanda inclined her head “It’s kind of homey.  It fills your stomach and your heart if you know what I mean”

“Yeah I get what you’re saying, though I figure that we will all be passed out in an hour when were full to the brim”

Wanda gave a small chuckle “You are probably right, but there are worse ways to end an evening you know”.

Belle scooped up another forkful of the juice chicken and gravy and took a moment to just enjoy the rich flavors as she chewed

“You know I do my best to not, intrude, on other thoughts but I couldn’t help but pick up the flavor of your thoughts. I won’t tell anyone but I need you to know that if you ever want to talk to anyone I’m here and I understand a bit of what you are going through.”

Belle made eye contact and just tilted her head slightly, her mouth still full to indicate that she was listening

“I had a brother you know, Pietro.  He made a choice to help someone and it cost him his life.  I can’t begrudge him his choice but it can be lonely and Christmas, even more so.  It makes the mind wonder you know”

Belle gave Wanda a soft smile.  She had heard the name but hadn’t made the connection that he was related to Wanda

“I’m sorry Wanda. That must be so hard for you.  Do you do anything special to remember him?”

“Oh I put an extra ornament on the tree, it’s the Peregrine falcon. Did you know that they are the fastest animal on earth, they are free and masters of the air.  My brother had the gift of speed and even though he is  gone from here he is free now and nothing will limit where he can go”.

Belle could see that Wanda seemed to be fully at peace with what she was saying “I know it is somewhat different, but if you need to talk, then you know that I have a good ear, yea?”

Belle reached out and wrapped her hand around Wanda’s “Thank you, for telling me about him, and about your offer.  I don’t regret my decisions, but sometimes it is hard.  If you ever want to talk more about your brother then I am always available to talk and share coffee, or cocoa”

“And what pray tell, are you wonderful ladies whispering about at this end of the table?” Tony’s arm came to rest over the back of Belle’s chair. Wanda dipped her head and Belle turned her focus to her lover.  

“Now that would be telling.  We covered a lot of ground, from the wonderful caterers to just who would look better dressed as Santa” 

Tony wiggled his eyebrows and gave her a grin “Well we all know what you answered to that don’t we”

Belle nodded “Of course we do baby - Clint would make the best Father Christmas” 

Tony snorted and pressed a kiss into Belle’s temple taking a moment to breath in her scent “You tell yourself that baby”

He turned his attention back to the conversation going on further up the table giving them back the semblance of privacy

Wanda waited until he was involved in the conversation before leaning in a bit closer under the guise of passing Belle some corn “He worries about you - he wants you to be happy more than just about anything “

Reaching for the corn Belle glanced over at Tony who had his head thrown back in laughter his hand banging on the table her eyes softening “He is a big part of the reason that I can be as happy as I am.  He’s a good man Wanda”

“In a lot of ways if the media is to be believed” 

Belle laughed a little harder “I don’t kiss and tell” she leaned in again “but let’s just say the media don’t have a full appreciation of what they are talking about”

Wanda blushed and coughed a little drawing the attention of the others.  Wanda waved them off with a wave of her hand and the table settled back into conversations that ebbed and flowed.

Bucky had served the figgy pudding, along side the catered deserts and it went down well, with a lot of joking about who received each of the tokens.  Steve had of course been the first to dig in and between Bucky and Belle the others were talked into trying a piece.  Natasha and Bruce had been happen enough to receive the thimble and button.  Tony had acted annoyed when he hadn’t received the silver coin but seemed secretly pleased to receive the wishbone.  Steve was the King and Belle received the anchor and Tony, Clint and Sam had taken delight in ribbing Steve.  When Bucky had explained the anchor Tony had nodded to his one time enemy and kissed Belle on the cheek making a promise that they both understood. They would make sure that this promise came true.  He had seen Wanda and Belle in discussion and he knew if he asked Belle would tell him her side later.  She wouldn’t betray Wanda but when it came to herself she would be open.  This was his family and they would look out for each other no matter what.

[lowkeyassgard]

Capture This Moment (OG TOM HIDDLESTON FIC)

Capture This Moment Chapter 1: Original Tom Hiddleston/ Non-binary character fic series.

(TOM HIDDLESTON X YOU, TOM HIDDLESTON X READER, TOM HIDDLESTON X OG CHARACTER)

Summary: Grey Anderson is a photographer in their last semester of college. They are assigned a final project to spend several weekends at a campground.

Tom Hiddleston is a former actor who is forced to run his father’s campground. He gives tours and hikes for extra cash to make use of his developed knowledge of the wilderness.

What will happen when their paths cross?

Word Count: 1,709

Authors Note: The OG character is non-binary and using they/them pronouns. Tom Hiddleston will be introduced in the next chapter and smut will come later.

Originally Posted: http://archiveofourown.org/works/22499770

If Grey Anderson had learned anything in their life it’s that every moment of the day was camera worthy. They carried their camera wherever they went for this purpose. Their favorite sound was the click of the camera. Life might be short but Grey would document every moment they could.

Grey had a rough childhood growing up. Their parents were divorced and constantly moved around. They were never in one spot for long. Originally from the cold and wet Washington, Grey had lived in 12 different states by the time they were 18. All of them offering a new set of challenges. None of them feeling like home.

Consumed and overwhelmed with this nomadic lifestyle; Grey started to take photos. Initially to document each new place they lived in but quickly turned into a passion. More then a passion. It was like an escape.

Grey with their fingers on a cold silvery camera with their attention focused on the perfect shot was the one time Grey felt like they were in control. It was like time slowed down and they could actually breathe. The power of the camera was in their hands.

When the opportunity arose to move to New York and study photography, Grey didn’t hesitate. Taking nothing but their clothes and camera they took a train from Boston to New York. Their parents were supportive but Grey knew their parents were just happy they were doing something with their life. Grey’s brother and sister were deadbeat and lived at home still.

New York was nothing like Grey had ever experienced. It was crowded and noisy but beautiful nonetheless. New York was the definition of camera worthy. Grey could just spend hours on a bench taking photos of people as they walked by or birds as they flown above. Grey weekly took walks through Central Park. It was everything they loved and their passion for photography grew.

It had been three years since Grey had left everything they knew behind. They were in their last semester of college and working part time at a café near their apartment. They lived with their best friend, Bentley, in the cheapest apartment they could afford with their combined savings. Life had been decent. Grey worked, studied, and went out on weekends. What more could they ask for?

Things were going better than Grey had expected. Way better to be honest. The thing is Grey hadn’t always been Grey. They were born as Grace. Grace wasn’t bad but it wasn’t who they were. They weren’t into all the girly stuff society tried to force and the more Grey talked about it the more they realized that gender was a social concept. A social concept that could choke on their camera strap. Grey just wanted to be themself. No gender. No label. Just who ever they were and would become.

After moving away from home and meeting Bentley, Grace became Grey. Grey was a nickname that Bentley gave them for the sole fact that they wore the same grey button up every day of the week. Just like their camera that grey button up brought them peace and security. So they wore it no matter if it was hot or cold or rainy or snowy. Would pair it with skirts, dresses, pants, whatever was in their closet. It wasn’t stylish but Grey didn’t care about fashion. Grey only cared about photography.

Speaking of photography, Grey was late to the first day of class back from spring break. They had a ten am photography class and the time on their phone shown they were 15 minutes late. Grey was never late. They had woke up early but got in a heated discussion with Bentley over which Jonas Brother would make the best model. Silly but provided for a good laugh.

Grey just prayed that the rest of the semester would fly by.

Grey opened the door to the classroom and felt the eyes of their fellow classmates upon them. Late on the first day. So embarrassing. Grey adjusted their book bag and quickly took a seat at the back of the classroom. This was the last photography class Grey needed to graduate and they couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Grey loved photography but the teacher was eccentric. Always assigned the weirdest projects that flared Grey’s anxiety. Grey liked to take photos of what they wanted not want they were required. Being required took the joy out of it. Especially when it wasn’t simple assignments like “take a photo of something that is blue.” But assignments like “ photograph something that reminds you of humanity”. It made Grey think and pushed them out of their boundaries. Which wasn’t a super bad thing but wasn’t want Grey wanted.

Grey loved photography that was mindless. That was in the moment. That you could feel and love.

They had over month left of school and Grey knew that their big final project would be assigned today. They hoped it would be simple but knew better.

“Earth to Grey?” Professor Alexander said from the front of the classroom.

Grey jumped aware that they had spaced out. Late and now not paying attention. This is what happens when you go out for drinks on a Sunday. Grey whispered a grievance toward the universe for letting themselves get persuaded by Bentley to meet up with friends at midnight.

“Sorry Professor. I’m just not all the way here today.” Grey apologetically said.

“Clearly.” Professor Alexander said toward Grey before resuming his initial conversation with the entire class.

“As I was saying. For the big project all of you will spend the remainder of the semester at a campground. Any campground of your choosing. “

“Sir, what about are other classes?” The student near the front asked.

“Ah. Yes I do suppose you have other priorities. Most of you in this class are graduating this spring so I see no reason why you shouldn’t be able to do it all. But if you must question it. Alright. You must spend the remainder of the semester weekends at a campground. Or at least a better part of them.”

“Why a campground and what will we do?” This time it was Grey that posed a question for the Professor. Grey had work and three other classes. Not difficult classes but there would be homework and tests for sure. Photography was their life but it couldn’t be their whole life.

“A campground is more then just a place to camp. It is nature. It is life. It is beauty. It is adventure.”

A student began to interrupt the professor but Alexander waved his hand as to silence the student. “You will go and document everything you see. Everything that defines life and adventure. Be a part of nature. “

“And to make sure you don’t just go the last day and take fifty photos. You must have photos from morning, afternoon, evening, and night. Photos when it’s raining, clear, and cloudy. Must take photos of at least 20 people. Photos from all parts of day, weather, and demonstrate diversity. You have 5 weeks.”

“Are we allowed to work together?” Grey heard someone ask.

God they hoped so. This project would be easier and more bearable if they could do it in groups. Walking around a campground by themselves sounded horrid and boring. Even with photography involved.

“No. Each of you must go to a different campground. You may take one person outside this class but no one can work together. I want to see your own personal experience with the exquisite campground. Class is dismissed but I have a list of campgrounds with me please come and select one before you leave.”

Has he lost his mind? An entire project over a campground. A campground? Grey had gone camping a few times as a kid but it wasn’t anything spectacular. At least nothing Grey remembered. Bentley for the last week had convinced Grey to go out to all these new clubs and Grey knew exactly how Bentley could repay them.

Grey slid out of their seat and moved to the front of the classroom. They hadn’t gone camping in New York and had no clue what the options could even intel.

“Ah. Mx. Anderson. You may pick but I think I have one that you would enjoy.”

“Which is it sir? I really have no preference.”

“Well. It’s this campground about 45 minutes away. Ran by a nice man and his boy. William Hiddleston and his boy Thomas. I heard you were big on scenery and this place would be perfect. Has this clearing that is opened up for miles.. “

“Sounds up by alley. What’s the name of it so I can sign my name by it?”

“Tsk. This one isn’t on the list. I wanted to offer it to you before anyone else.”

Grey found that a bit odd. This professor barely knew them and he was suggesting they go to a campground hand picked by them. Creepy but that clearing sounds amazing. Grey couldn’t pass this up.

“I am in. I would love to see it.”

Professor Alexander leaned over his desk and began to scribble on a sheet of paper. After a moment he ripped a section off and handed it to Grey.

“I can’t wait to see what you find and capture.” He said with a smile.

Grey took the paper from his hands and made their way out of the classroom. As they walked out they tried to read the scribbles on the paper.

“Camp Capturious” read the paper followed by its address.

Grey had never heard of it. Never even heard of the town it was in. Grey just hoped this wasn’t a plan by the professor to murder them.

Grey quickly walked back to their apartment. Mind full of ideas for this project and anxiety over the location. Grey didn’t know what this campground would hold but knew that Bentley was for sure going.

Grey knew this would be the opportunity to develop their portfolio to show clients once they graduated. As they walked they thought about what their mom would say when they told her.

In their mom’s voice they thought. “Ya da ya da capture this moment Grey.”

[fairyofthemoonandstars]

No Light in your bright blue eyes (End I)

Read Part I & Part II

In the evil’s heart 

When Y/N rose back, everything was blurry and the agitation around her was giving her the worst headache. All of her life so far seemed like a horrible nightmare that she just woke up from. Except it was reality. She died, her heart ripped out of her body. 

But panic took control all over her body when she didn’t recognize the place she was in. The creme colored walls, the smell of candles, and their light caressing her skin. And the faces and the voices around her were too much to handle, she was shaking in the bed, struggling with the persons restraining her. 

-Thank you for your help girls, leave us now. 

As soon as the voice asked, her order was executed. She could finally move freely. She recognized later the face owning that voice, it was Cordelia Goode, Supreme of all the Witches and Warlocks. Only then she remembered where she was, she had been there one time with her own Coven. But the questions were haunting her, what was she doing here? And how did she escaped Murder House? 

-You need to relax, nothing wrong will come to you. Her voice was soft and motherly. 

-How am I here? What happened? 

-When Madison told me what happened to you, I and my girls did everything we could to bring you back. And as you can tell, it is a success. 

-Am I alive? She was crying, not believing that she was back 

-Oh very much, my dear. Added the other woman on the room. 

She recognized the woman, Myrtle Snow, she had been dead for years, and yet she was here, standing on the other side of the bed. To clear up all questions, Cordelia started to answer every single one the young woman might have. How she brought Myrtle back, for this time of great need. All about the spell, they used on her to recreate a heart, and the young witch who performed it. 

-But why me? 

-You are your only hope to stop the Apocalypse. 

-But my powers are nothing spectacular, I’m not raising anywhere near yours. 

-It’s not for your powers that we brought you back, although you underestimate yourself. 

-It’s for your connection with that cocky little boy, believed to be the Antichrist …Added Myrtle, with a touch of irony that only her master so well. 

Michael, he had raised to a level that was scaring the Witches. His powers were beyond comprehension and with the support from the Warlocks, he could only grow stronger. She couldn’t believe at all that her sensitive little boy could have become the biggest threat to humanity. 

If she was the only way to stop him, then she would do it. Not only to save humanity, but mostly to save Michael from himself. But before taking any action, she was ordered to get some rest, and it was more than welcome as she was exhausted. 

                                                            **

-Cordelia, I was surprised to see you asking for a meeting, especially here. Said the Grand Chancellor of Hawthorne School. 

Ariel Augustus was a sinister man, yet the jubilation in his voice was impossible to miss. He knew that having Michael by his side, the next Supreme, was giving him a power he had sought for years. Overpowering the Witches was his biggest dream, so when Cordelia Goode had summoned a meeting in his school, his thirst of power had only grown. 

As they were welcome to enter the underground school, Y/N’s heart was beating so fast that she was afraid she might faint before even facing him. But nothing or no one would ever stop her to see him again, not even herself.

 Ariel followed closely by Baldwin Pennypacker and Behold Chablis, were leading the way to the living room of the instructors, change for the occasion, into a Council’s meeting room. Behold had difficulty hiding his treason to his fellow brothers as he recognized the hooded figure following behind Cordelia Goode and Zoe Benson. The young witch from Murder House, a ghost from Michael’s past, it seemed that the witches had successfully brought her back. 

Few minutes later, one of the doors opened to boy wonder, his golden curls shining in the light of the candles. He was excused for his lateness by a simple sign of Ariel’s head. After all, he was to be the next Supreme, he wasn’t late, everybody else was just early. He sat down at the table, just at the opposite of a mysterious witch, a hood covering her face. Michael looked at her suspiciously, as the rest of the group carried on the conversation. 

Finally his focus changed as Cordelia mentioned his name into the conversation. Y/N had a quick breath of relief, as she looked at him from under her hood. His featured had changed, he looked older but also more confident and handsome than ever before. What hadn’t changed was his eyes, the beautiful gun metal blue that could capture you within a second. She felt bewitch before him, he had nothing to do with the little boy she used to know. 

After the small discussion between the witches and the warlocks, Cordelia asked everyone to leave the room. As everyone rose and followed her order, excepted Y/N who was still hiding under her black cloak. Michael was the last one on the room with them, but Cordelia stopped him on his way, asking him to stay where he was. She left the room backward making sure he stayed in place. Only adding to Michael’s confusion, until he realized that the door was locked with the Supreme’s magic. 

Then he turned back to the only person who was in the room with him, ready to lash out all his anger and frustration. With pride, it seemed to be the only emotions that inhabited him for the past months. 

-Who are you? One of his eyebrows raised to the question 

To his surprise, this only question made her rose her hands to uncloak herself. With grace she put down the hood on her shoulders, revealing her face to him. A face that he knew far too well and he thought he would never see again. She was as beautiful as he remembered, her face hadn’t changed since he last saw her. That smile she was given him, so candid, took him back to his childhood. 

But then the pain came back as fast as lighting, striking him through the heart. The exact same pain he left when he learned she left him, she just ran away. He had no idea how far he was from the truth, how events really pulled out. 

-Why are you here?

-For you. 

-You have never been here for me, you ran away when I needed you! So don’t you dare tell me you are for me now!

He had broken the distance between them, his body overshadowing hers. His hands were shaking in his side, as he was trying not to touch her. Y/N was torn, when she saw how she failed him. Despite the facade he showed everyone she could see the little boy broken climbing his way out, he was so vulnerable. 

She used the small distance between them to initiate a contact. Her hand rose up to touch his cheek, she could almost touch his skin but his hand wrapped around her wrist stopping her movement. His eyes were filled with anger, but still that wasn’t frighting her. However, the waves of pain kept on going in her brain. She was desperate to let him know the truth. Although she knew he wouldn’t listen, she could try to use mind control over him. 

So she did, closing her eyes to focus, she used their contact to create a connection between them. Every single candles’ flames started to stagger around the room, Michael was fighting her, not wanting to put himself in a position that could weaken him. His powers were much stronger than hers, but her will to gain control was stronger. 

He knew he could out-stand her with the flick of a finger but one part of him didn’t want to. He still had a part of his heart softened by her love. So he finally let it go, allowing her into his mind. 

He immediately regretted his decision as she started playing her memories for him. He could feel every single emotions and sensations, the agony, it was overthrowing his own feelings. Silently, she was crying, forcing herself to relive everything she had been through. The pain was such that just after showing him the image of himself eating her heart, she had to let him go. 

Everything was dizzy, Y/N made it to the chair next to her just in time. She was holding her head as a sharp pain sneaked into her brain. Michael, on the other hand, hadn’t moved, he was stuck in place. His eyes wide open, reliving, again and again, the atrocities she had been through. 

-I’m sorry it had to be done that way. But it was the only way to make sure you would believe me. 

At her surprise, he didn’t explode in her face, no instead he stood there and said nothing. She looked at him with worried, the truth was harder to deal with for him than she expected. It was hurting her to see him so fragile. 

Everything in his mind was turning around, there was no words, no actions, nothing that could make up for what happened to her. He couldn’t help but to feel guilty, it was all his fault. He turned toward her, she wasn’t mad at him, on the contrary, she seemed worried. Making sure that he was soft with every single of his move, he kneeled in front of her, caressing her tight with his thumb. Like a gesture of peace, as a way to tell her to worry no more. 

-I’m so sorry. He broke softly crying on her laps.

-Everything is going to be fine now, I promise. 

As she crawled down her chair to take him into her arms, Michael hold her even tighter. There was nothing more comfortable than this, the contact of her skin against his. She could feel his tears rolling alongside her neck but she said nothing, just caressing his hair. 

There was nothing stronger than the two of them reunited. Michael knew that she would be here for him, always. In fact, she never really left him. 

Read  Ending II - Ending III

[evolutionsvoid]

Those who have read any of my previous entries on the fauna down in the Underworld should already know a little about my trip down below. I am sure I have even brought it up in some non-Underworld entries! I speak so often of this excursion because I, and a lot of other people, would have never believed I could visit such a place. It is well known by both sides that the surface world and Underworld don't get along, so I thought it would be impossible to go down there and study the wildlife. But it seemed that fate smiled upon me one day, allowing me to meet a fellow natural historian who would allow such a thing to happen! My colleague, Beelzeth, was a native to the Underworld and he understood my desire to see that land with my own eyes. With his incredible kindness and charity, he arranged it so that I could go down below and have the chance of a life time to study and sight see! Friends and family of his all chipped in to help me on my journey and I can never thank them enough for all they did! With their guidance and help, I was able to fulfill the dreams of my enemies and I actually went to Hell (though the place is actually called Hel, and it has some wonderful restaurants)! I mention many of them in my Underworld entries, and I talk a lot about how demons interact with said species. With such mentions, I feel that it is about time that I talk about demons themselves! I feel that I could write entire tomes about what I learned and saw down below, and still I wouldn't even scratch the surface! I will try my best to hit the most important points so that this entry isn't a hundred pages long (ya happy with that, Eucella?!). It is my hope that people find all this interesting, and that the folks on the surface have a better understanding of demonkind. I am sure this entry won't bring an end to the issues between these two realms, but I can hope that it dispels some of the myths and horror stories that people make up about our friends down below!     An interesting thing to note about demons is their wide variety of body plans, which is utterly bizarre for a single species. Never before have I seen such an array of anatomy that can vary so wildly! I would say us dryads even pale in comparison, as most of our species at least retain a humanoid appearance! Their bodies can be short and stocky, or long and tall. Their limbs can vary in number and make up, with some resembling regular jointed appendages, but others acting more like tentacles! Some demons may slither about on serpentine lower bodies, while others scuttle along on limbs that fit an insect! This goes beyond a change in muscle and fat composition, as it calls for a completely different bone structure! It is said that this bizarre variety in anatomy is what drove demons to be such experts in blacksmithing and craftsmanship, as practically every individual has to have their armor tailor made. Some natural historians theorize that this radical difference in anatomy may be a result of demonkind being fractured into dozens of isolated communities in the past. It is suggested that these groups developed their own adaptations and anatomy to best fit their environment, making them quite different than the others. At some point long ago, something happened down below that caused the Underworld to change and these communities became connected. The intermingling and crossbreeding of these groups would then lead to these traits being mixed and swapped, resulting in the demons we have today. On the other hand, demonkind claims that this variety in their anatomy is the result of them being forged and made by the Gods Below. Each individual was personally made by these great beings, which shows the love and care their gods have for them. All that I know is that it explains why demon architecture is so large and open, because you have to account for these varying body types. Despite this, there are certain traits that all demons possess, no matter their body plan (like their tall height and incredible strength). Their skin, for example, is thick, hairless and covered in leathery bumps. It forms a simple dermal armor for them, making it easier to ward off cuts, scratches and stabs. It is believed that this hide of theirs helps protect them from attackers and the elements. Demons also possess slit-like eyes that allow them to see in their darkened world. Their pupils can expand and contract depending on the amount of light available. In bright areas, their eyes are narrow slits, but in the darkness they can open up to make it seem like their whole eye is black. I know some may expect the Underworld to be a place of perpetual darkness, but there are actually quite a few natural sources of light to be found. Lightstones, glowing fungus, bright worm strands and magma flows can be found throughout the caverns, and then there are the artificial light sources that demons and shades make themselves. With these eyes, they can see in practically any environment, but they do come with a downside. They need time to focus and change when exposed to different levels of light. If there is a sudden and drastic lighting change, it can temporarily blind them and cause them pain. This is important to note if you are ever traveling the dark tunnels with some demon companions. I was walking with the crew in some pitch black place and was getting sick of tripping over every rock and root. I decided to light up my lantern, but failed to inform my companions I was doing so. The moment the flame lit up, they all started shouting and grabbing their faces as light exploded everywhere. Needless to say, I lost my lantern privileges that day. Another common feature, and one of the most obvious, is their horns. These dark, banded structures are much like the ones you see on goats, bulls and buffalo. They have a bony core and a hardened sheath, and they will grow slowly throughout the demon's life. Both males and females possess horns, but they have some differences. The horns of a male demon will be larger and more extravagant, prone to branching, bending and being as spectacular as possible. The horns of females, however, are less showy and are a bit more simple. Males will also have multiple pairs of horns growing on their heads and bodies, while females only possess one pair. Some say that another way you can tell the genders apart is by looking at which direction the horns originally curve. It is said that the horns of males start off pointing upwards, while the horns of females point downwards. This one, however, is not as solid of an identifier as the others. If you want to tell if they are male and female, count the pairs and take note on how flashy they are. 

For demons, their horns are incredibly important to them and they hold a special place in their culture. It is said that long ago, when demon kind was more primitive and wild, females selected their males based on horn size and display. The bigger and flashier your horns were, the more ladies you got. Over time, though, this practice has faded away and their current culture does not use horn size as the sole factor in picking mates (though some may say otherwise). Despite that, many demons still view their horns as a sign of power, strength and pride. These structures are well maintained and some may choose to decorate them. Male demons especially seem to take pride in their horns and they may treat them as a measure of masculinity. While many warriors boast about their scars and injuries received in battle, damage done to their horns is considered shameful. A few nicks and scratches can be ignored, and maybe a snapped tine, but the loss of a major chunk of one's horn is a major embarrassment and disgrace. For male warriors, having one or more of your horns cut off is akin to castration, and it is a fate worse than death. If you are a soldier in the army and you have lost a horn, say goodbye to the prospect of being anything more than a grunt, as no battalion shall ever follow a "half-horn." This association of masculinity can also be seen when one mocks a male demon for being bossed around by his mate, as they say "she bears the horns in that household." On the other hand, female demons tend not to be as obsessed with their horns as the males, but they do still care for them. Demonkind as a whole sees them as an important symbol in their culture and it is a source of pride for the species. For example, there is a gesture of greeting that is done between family and trusted friends that involves their horns. It involves two individuals coming together as if they were approaching for a hand shake. Instead, each demon would reach up with one hand and grab the base of the horn of the other. A quick firm shake is given by each, often with a warm greeting or a grunt of approval. I am sure this sounds weird to other species, but it is a very personal greeting, kind of like a dryad nuzzle. When I inquired more about its meaning, I learned that it originated as a gesture of trust. The tales say that it began when two warring caverns sought to end their feud. The two leaders came together in hopes of making peace, but things were shaky between them due to the war and bloodshed. They did not fully trust the other, believing this talk was nothing more than a ruse to help take down their foe. To prove that his intentions were true, one warlord offered his own horns for the other to seize. With a firm grip on both of his horns, the other leader could easily take advantage and break his neck if he wished. This gesture showed that he trusted the other enough to put his life in his hands, and this was not missed by the warlord. In the end, he offered the same gesture, and the two succeeded in making peace. So in the end, when this gesture is done between friends and family it essentially says "I trust you and you trust me." In present times, it is common to use only one hand rather than two, as it is quicker and tones down the formality just a little bit. When it comes to eating, demons have an omnivore's diet, despite what some surface dwellers may believe. Many folk up above tend to think that demons are strict carnivores, based on their reputation and sharp teeth. While demons do indeed have a pointy smile, their back teeth are designed for crushing and chewing, like any other omnivore. For food, demons will practically eat anything that is edible and non-poisonous. I can think of very few species that haven't graced an Underworld menu. Plants, animals and fungi are all possible food sources for them, which they obtain through either hunting, gathering or farming. Demons and shades raise Isodons as their primary livestock, harvesting the large invertebrates for their meat, eggs and heavy carapaces. Fungi and plants are grown in a combination of ash and animal droppings, often collected from livestock, bats or mound roach colonies. Though legends and myth like to spread this misconception, demons do not feed on primarily on human flesh. People like to act that this species thrives on human meat and that they prefer the taste of virgins and children. This is wholly untrue, as having your major prey species be man is incredibly inefficient and dangerous. That's like saying humans feed primarily on bears that have plate armor and spit lightening. Not exactly a quick easy meal. Though it is a rather extreme misconception, there is a reason it came to be. From what we know, it started during the demons' crusade long ago, when they were trying to cleanse the blasphemous surface with fire. When this invasion was in full swing, there were two separate war fronts: one against the humans, and the other against the dryads. While the demons were moving like a burning wave through our forests, the other army was busy smashing itself against humanity's walled cities. Their front turned into a siege, with the demon armies surrounding the cities and working to chip away at the humans' defenses and resources. During this time, it was said that the demons would take human prisoners and cook them alive for all to see. The bodies were consumed in full view of the surrounded city, as means of spreading fear and lowering human morale. It should be obvious that this was just a brutal war time strategy, but there are still people who believe demons actually use humanity as a food source. Then again, I am sure there are demons down below that still think dryads eat demon flesh and vomit poison.                 Like humans, dryads and fairies, demons have the ability to use magic. Their relation with magic, however, is more similar to us dryads than it is with fairies or humans. They are only able to use elements that are bound to their kind, much like how dryads can only use magic on things like plants, fungi or light. For demons, their set elements are fire, earth, stone and metal, though their power over flame is what most people think of. This is because the element of fire is the one that is easiest for demons to learn and use, so much so that practically any demon can summon simple fire balls or spray small streams of flame. It is said that this is because all demons possess an internal flame, which is what they consider to be their soul. By focusing this internal fire, they can control the element and bend it to their will. One thing I know that helps with their use of fire is the special make up of their claws. Their black talons have a certain material in them that can create sparks when struck together. They function much like flint and steel, scraping together in one quick motion to release a small shower of sparks. By itself, this does very little besides maybe lighting a pile of dried twigs, but its real purpose is for magic. By creating these hot sparks, it gives the user an immediate source of heat that they can seize and manipulate. Fire spells are much faster and easier to use when a heat source is already present, as it save them from burning energy to create one in the first place. That is why it appears that demons can simply snap their fingers and summon an orb of fire, as it is their striking talons doing most of the work. While fire is clearly the element most associated with demons, not every one of them are professionals with this magic. Much like other magic-bearing species, each individual is born with a certain degree of strength in this art. Some may appear to be masters over such elements with little to no practice, while others may struggle despite their efforts. With enough time and training, though, many demons may gain the skill to be moderately talented with magic, but not many take this art to such a level. The species has a special affection for brute strength and physical prowess, so many who seek to be fighters will focus more on physical training than magic. There is more honor and pride to be gained from physical training, as there are opponents that can be bested and strength to show off. Spending time over books and the intricacies of magic, however, has less one can gloat about, so only the dedicated take such a route. Magic still plays a special role in their society, and those who take themselves to the next highest level will be eagerly sought. Such learning and experience is what makes Stone Weavers and Fire Dancers, and each of these special classes have many uses both on and off the battlefield. While limited in their scope of magic compared to humans, demons who take their skills to the highest level will be some of the strongest around in said element. True Flame Dancers and Stone Weavers can easily overpower any Pyromancer or Geomancer, and they can do so without devolving into uncontrollable monsters.   Speaking of magic and fire, now is probably a good time to bring up a trait about demons that baffles many natural historians. If anyone has ever read or heard a story about demons, then they probably know that demons are immune to fire. While some may say that this statement is a hyperbole from legend, it is actually quite true. Demons aren't just resistant to fire or just good at dealing with heat, they are straight up immune to it. No one is really sure why, but this species is capable of walking across magma and working in some of the hottest conditions possible without a single burn or singe. This isn't a case of their thick skin warding off flame, they can just take any heat or flame no problem. No one is really sure why this is except for the demons, who claim that it is because of their internal flame. The best guess is that it is some form of magic that is infused in every demon, perhaps a result from their affinity with fire. Kind of like how fairies are able to fly and levitate without any form of wings or propulsion. No one is really sold on that theory, but it is so far the most plausible. One must remember that demons come from the same realm as shades, and that species is ten times more biologically confusing than them. Perhaps this immunity to fire, or their belief of an internal flame also explains why demons have a high body temperature. Compared to any other animal species, they run at a heat that many would associate with a fever. While others may find it troubling, demons find this high body temperature as their norm. They associate it with their internal flame, and view this heat as a measurement of health. When a demon is healthy and strong, they feel warm and normal. If a demon starts to feel a chill, though, it is believed that they are becoming sick or weak. Since they have such a high body temperature, it takes a lot to make a demon feel cold. While walking through some of the damp caverns down below, I would be shivering but the rest of my party would be just fine. Thankfully Vespar was always close by, who I tried to nonchalantly keep close to for some of that body heat! If there is a scenario where a demon starts to feel cold, they immediately get uneasy and worried. They will believe that they are succumbing to a disease, or that they are in a weakened enough state that a sickness may easily befall them. After all, don't other species describes some diseases as "colds?" Many home remedies for one who is sick are centered around warmth and heat. If a demon is coming down with a chill, then they may choose to soak in a hot spring or sleep upon a bed of coals. Home-made brews made of herbs and mushrooms will often have strong alcohol mixed in, as the burn it provides is said to help the body heal. Well, it is either that or demons find that a good way to cope with a nasty sickness is to get drunk. Can't argue there!     Outside of their fire and stone magic, demons are also famously known for weaponry and armor. While humans do forge some amazing stuff, even they have to admit that demonic blacksmithing is the best around. There are a few reasons why they have such a mastery over the art. The first is their access to metals and rare ores. The Underworld is filled with materials and metals, and the denizens don't need to do that much digging to uncover them. There are special ores that can only be found at certain depths, so far down that no human mine could ever reach them. The shades and demons, however, have an easier time reaching them, and their mining efforts bring home tons of precious metals. Another reason for their skills around the forge is their incredible strength. Not only do their muscles allow them to lift great weights, but their home of caverns and cliffs, along with their warrior training, hone their bodies and limbs. By combining their strength with the help of shades, they can work with heavy equipment and hammer the toughest of metals with startling force. Lastly is their immunity to fire and heat, which is perfect for a job that has you working near forges. Since they are unfazed by extreme heat, they can run forges that are practically fueled by magma. The conditions in some of the greatest demon forges would straight up kill any human or dryad that dared walk near them, but these temperatures are needed to work with certain metals and materials. What comes out of these infernos, though, are second to none. Crafted from demonic schematics, made from special Underworld ore and heated from volcanic forges, these weapons and armor are prized for their strength, design and durability. It said that high grade demon blades never dull and that their war hammers can shatter rock. Even those who are not warriors can appreciate the sheer beauty of their craft, as some of the weapons I have seen could be shown in art museums! With impenetrable armor and unbreakable weapons, you would think that every warrior of every species would rush out to get their hands on these demonic pieces, but there is a catch to all this. While demons make incredible pieces, this stuff is also incredibly heavy. Their swords and lances can feel like they're made of lead, and their clubs and hammers are pretty much impossible for non-demons to wield. I found that I could only properly use one of their daggers, and that was big enough to be considered a sword! Their armor is the same, to the point where I am surprised they can even move in the stuff! Since they like to incorporate heavy metals and stones into their armor, it winds up feeling like you are wearing a boulder into battle! This extreme weight, though, is not unintentional. Demons take great pride in their strength and power, and what better way to show that off than swing around a hammer that weighs as much as a horse? It also prevents humans and other surface dwelling foes from picking up fallen weapons and using them against their creators. Non-demons who wish to own demon forged equipment must get this stuff custom made, if they want armor or weapons they can actually wield. For the right price the demon blacksmiths are happy to forge up something special, but such prices sure aren't cheap! If you can afford such a thing, though, you will be the envy of every warrior on the surface! For many surface dwellers, they see demons and their fellow shades as bloodthirsty warmongers, who seek to annihilate the surface world. This belief isn't helped by the crusades long ago, where the demons did indeed try to do that. The thing I want to say, though, is that demons are not the monsters people make them out to be. They are not mindless savages that feed on human flesh and kill for no reason. These beliefs are propaganda and misinterpretation by those on the surface. Demons are just like us, they build villages, they grow crops, they run businesses and they live ordinary lives just like you and me. The animosity that is between the Underworld and surface world is not something that was created out of malice, but fear. Much like how the many religions of humanity speak of a purgatory down below filled with monsters who spread sin and suffering, the religion of demons has created much fear about the surface. To better explain this, I better give a run down of the Underworld's creation myth. At the beginning of time, the earth was just a simple burning orb of fire. This flaming core was home to the Gods Below, the deities of the Underworld. The four gods, Svrnacht, Ostranel, Pyrogohna and Alauticus, used their powers to surround their burning home with layers of stone. With the use of the Core Dwellers, they carved out the Underworld and filled it with life. The realm of the Gods Below would now sit in the center of the world, emanating the life-giving warmth that made existence possible. After the trials of creating a sapient species to rule this new world, the Gods Below at last forged the demons and shades. From then on, these two species would live in peace and give faith to their wonderful gods. The end! Now I am sure some folk are confused, asking "didn't you say that this creation myth would explain their fear of the surface? The surface world wasn't even mentioned!" To that I would say, "you are correct, and that is precisely why the surface world terrifies them so!" According to their religion, nothing should even exist on the surface, as it is too far from the Gods Below. Up above, it is a frozen and godless realm, where no life could possibly survive. For centuries or more, the denizens down below lived with the belief that there was simply nothing above them, and that the Underworld was the sole realm of this earth. Now imagine the absolute chaos and terror that resulted when they learned one day that not only did something live in this realm, but entire civilizations lived in this godless land! How do think we would react if we found out that a whole world lived atop the clouds the entire time we existed? It would sure shake things up! So when the demons and shades freaked out about these beings that couldn't possibly exist, they struggled to find an explanation. The only thing they could come up with is that the surface world was a place that was untouched by the gods, and thus these creatures were never meant to exist. These were blasphemous parasites that latched onto their world and sought to corrupt it. Surely beings that thrived in such a cold, harsh land were mindless monsters! So in the end, the surface world become their version of a demon-filled purgatory, a place of evil and blasphemy. This is what created the fear and ultimately drove the crusades. In recent times, though, this attitude and belief is starting to fade. Those down below are starting to accept that humans, dryads, slimes and all the others up above are not evil monstrosities. That our civilization is not hellbent on raiding the Underworld and destroying the Gods Below. I serve as proof of this, as they even let a surface dweller like me come down and visit their cities! During my visit, I didn't run into that much animosity or hatred, just bewilderment and confusion. Sure there were a few confrontations, or times I wasn't allowed into certain businesses, or that one time when the Abyssal Olms tried to assassinate me, but it was quite pleasant overall! And that is at the time I am writing this! I can't even imagine what our relationship with the Underworld may be in the future! With how things are going, I like to think that there may be a time my daughter (or maybe granddaughter!) could visit the Underworld with the same nonchalance that you visit the downtown market! Maybe it could even be where we co-mingle, with demons living above and us living below! To think! What a wonderful world that would be!           Before I end this entry, though, I must mention those who helped me make this all happen! Never before had I thought I would be able to visit the Underworld but a special group of demons came together and made it possible! They made sure I not only got to visit this wonderful land, but that it was also one of the greatest trips of my life! I don't know if I can possibly thank them enough for all they have done for me, but I do wish to give all the love and thanks I can! I cannot wait to visit them again! As one of my many tokens of thanks, I decided to feature them in my sketch above! So without further ado, here is the wonderful crew from down below that took me on this amazing adventure: Mamin - A fierce warrior and wonderful guard, I was always happy Mamin was around when things got dicey! I must admit that I was intimidated by him the first time we met, what with his few words and heavy weapons. But in time I found him to be a great guide and quite the kind fellow! I will never forget that time he stepped in when I was accosted at the marketplace by a trio of disgruntled demons. Of course I was aware that the Underworld and the surface world didn't have the best standing, and that demons were not fans of dryads, but the weight of such a thing never hit me until I found myself face to face with some angry warriors (well, more like face to torso). Turns out one of their ancestors had been killed by us dryads during the crusades up above, and someone was looking for some long due vengeance. Having only been in the Underworld for two days, I was scared witless and wasn't sure what to do. I didn't have to decide, as Mamin suddenly appeared behind me and told them to scram. They didn't, so Mamin changed their mind. After that, he made it quite clear to everyone that if they had issues with me, they would be having issues with him. From then on, we ran into very few folk who wanted to pick a fight. I am so thankful for what he did for me, and I am happy he put up with my shenanigans! I am sure a great warrior like him wasn't to thrilled escorting an excitable little plant like me around.   Leyick - One of the sweetest people I have ever met, I don't know if words can ever describe how wonderful she is! Oh, if only every surface dweller could spend time with Leyick, then there would be no more fear of demons! She is Beelzeth's fiance, and she immediately volunteered to be my host when he was figuring out my trip. She welcomed me into her home with open arms, and she single handedly dispelled every worry I had when I first arrived. Though I was eager to visit the Underworld, the long descent downward gave me plenty of time to get nervous and wonder if I would be accepted. All that vanished when she met me at the bottom tunnel and immediately gave me the warmest of hugs! From then on, the charity and kindness never stopped! Now she is like a third mother to me (in case some might not know, dryads tend to be born from two mothers)! She cooked, cleaned and did everything in her power to make me comfortable and happy. She even took me to worship one day, to a temple dedicated to Pyrogohna. She is devoted to the Dancer of the Flames and she wanted me to experience what their ceremonies were like. She got me in and quickly hushed any who raised a fuss about my presence. While I am grateful I got to attend one of these worships, I am kind of happy she only took me once! Those who worship Pyrogohna honor her through dance, which was quite fast paced and involved a lot of spinning. It was a lot of fun, but around the hour mark, I was getting pretty tired! By the end of the ceremony, she had to practically drag my exhausted carcass back! She was an absolute saint, and she made her house feel like my home! That and she cooks up a wonderful Isodon egg casserole!   Valac - The younger brother to Mamin, he was an enthusiastic fellow and quite the stinker! He brought a lot of energy and fun to our excursions, but he was the number one creator of every prank that befell me! Turns out, having an older brother like Mamin allows you to get away with so much, which is why he's such a terror (this is not me being insulting, Valac said all this himself. I am also sure he would find this hilarious)! He was a great guide when it came to food and spirits, but when in the wilds, I always had to watch out for his pranks and tall tales! I won't be forgetting that incident with the Crimson Wraith anytime soon! Despite the numerous humiliations I fell to by his claws, I do appreciate the entertainment and jokes he pulled out when we were at camp! Some day I hope I can invite him and the others to the surface so that they can experience my home land! That, and so I can be the one to pull some pranks on him for a change!   Vespar - I would say she was a wonderful companion and a great helper, but she would say it was more like being a babysitter. She was the one who helped plan out our excursions and highlighted all the places or things I should see. She also was invaluable when it came to travel and navigation, as it was her hand that guided me through the dark tunnels and over the rocky cliffs. Not to mention she was the one who valiantly swooped in and saved me from that horde of Armored Mole Rats! What a hero! Nothing made me feel safer than having Vespar by my side, and I am sure nothing irritated her more than me being at hers! What was it she always said about me? "She's a good reminder on why I don't want imps." She put on a tough and uncaring attitude, but I know she had fun like the rest of us! Besides, if I was such an annoying hand full, why did she always lend a hand for even the littlest things? And why did she take me on some extra tours that her brother hadn't planned? I know she excused herself plenty of times saying "Beelzeth made me swear I would help you out," or "I just figured you would find this thing interesting, so I thought I would point it out." Say what you want, I know you cared! Though it probably wasn't the best thing to blurt out that one time, as I am pretty sure she encouraged more of Valac's pranks after that!   Beelzeth - Here is the guy who started it all! Before we met, Beelzeth had come to the surface in hopes of studying the surface world and better understanding how we do things up here! He shares the same passion as I, looking to expand the world of natural history! It must have been fate that we ran into each other during an investigation of the Bladed Mountains! I was there studying the native goat species, while he was soaking in the sights of those razored peaks! We stumbled upon each other and quickly got to talking. It was there we found out that we were fellow colleagues of the same field, and we couldn't stop talking after that! That night, I had expressed my desire to visit the Underworld, and he told me how he wanted to learn more about the surface as well. We came to the conclusion that we could both help each other out, by putting together our own little cultural exchange program! What we agreed on that night was to each use our connections and knowledge to help set up an expedition for the other. I would work with my surface mates to hook Beelzeth up with a place to stay, helpful guides and a whole list of places to visit and see. In return, he would do the same for me! I wasted no time in contacting every friend and colleague I knew, hoping that I could set up Beelzeth with the adventure of a lifetime! There were plenty of people who were happy to help, and it wasn't long before I got things all figured out. So in the end, the two of us met up at secret cave that led down into the Underworld, and we swapped places! He went with my good friend Myrtal, who was keeping him at her home, and I delved down the winding tunnel with his sister, Vespar. Down below, he arranged it so I was staying with his fiance, Leyick (though it sounded like she was the one decided that), while I was enjoying all the sights the Underworld had to offer! I have to say, I hope his trip was at least half as good as the one he set up for me! It was absolutely extraordinary, and it sounded like he had a good time up above too! Cheers to you and your mates, Beelzeth! I couldn't have done all of this without you! Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ------------------------------------------------------------------------ I always figured this entry would be obscenely long, and I wasn't wrong (turns out it is eight pages long in a word document!). This sucker took me multiple days to get down. Is it way too long for anyone to possibly read? Yes! It is inexcusably long and I don't expect people to slog through it! Am I going to apologize for it or try to shorten it up? Of course not! These ridiculously lengthed entries are kind of meant more for me, as I use them to empty my head and clear my mind. For me, if I don't draw something or write down every bit of lore I can think of, it will remain in my head forever. This is just kind of like a mental cleanse for me! And of course I am writing about a sapient species that live an a radically different environment, so of course there are going to be a ton of details and explanations to be had!

[iamanartichoke]

Can I still send smth for "i wish u would write a fic where”? Cause I've just seen this on twitter: ✨incorrect thor & loki ✨‏ @wrongbrodinsons "loki: what would the chef recommend? waiter: sir, this is mcdonalds thor: please excuse my brother, he’s not familiar with earth etiquette. what would the McChef recommend?" and absolutely need a fan fic with this convo here lol

Okay, so, I just want to disclaim this particular response by saying that Brodinson silliness isn’t generally my fic forte (much as my shitposting their Midgardian adventures might have you believe otherwise) so … this is just what came out. There’s some angst, some silliness, and a lot of drunk!Brodinsons and it’s super long because I am me, and I apologize. Also, I didn’t really revise this because if I think about it too much, I won’t post it, haha. I’m not super confident in it, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Thanks for the challenging prompt, I do like to try things outside of my comfort zone. :) 

Word Count: 2485 

It is after their fifth bottle of whiskey that Thor’s eyes brighten with the kind of mischief he only adopts when he’s good and inebriated. Loki groans as he sees the look shift swiftly across Thor’s features. “No,” he says simply, taking another swig from his bottle. The whiskey is not bad, but it is not good either. However, most Midgardian liquors do absolutely nothing for either of them, and the few that do have an effect must be consumed in copious amounts.

It is one of the things Loki misses about Asgard, how sweet wine and mead would flow steadily at feasts and meals or in the taverns deep into the night. He misses the days when he and Thor would share ale over a fire, talking of the day’s exploits and laughing in sync. Once, life had been simple, if not necessarily good.

“What,” Thor says, raising an eyebrow at Loki. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I know that look,” Loki points out with a roll of his eyes. He and Thor, in a rare mood that had struck them both after the evening meal, have settled themselves on the back porch of their apartment, their alcohol on a small table between their two chairs. The chairs are something called lounge chairs, which allow them to lean back and stretch their legs out comfortably. It was an undignified way to sit, to be sure, but Loki had to admit that he enjoyed the laziness of it, especially as he felt himself grow more intoxicated.

Thor plays innocent. He takes a long swig, finishing off the bottle he’d been nursing for awhile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Loki. I was just thinking we should get something to eat.”

“We just ate the evening meal about two hours ago,” Loki points out.

“Yes, but drinking always makes me hungry. You know this,” Thor returns. “Anyway, haven’t you ever heard of a midnight snack?”

Loki rolls his eyes. “No, Thor. As a matter of fact, I have not heard of a midnight snack. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

Thor gives his deep, rumbling laugh, which lasts just a moment too long. At this rate, Loki thinks wryly as he brings his bottle back to his lips, he will be pouring Thor into bed within the hour. Loki himself has been going much more slowly, allowing the warmth of the whiskey to work through him slowly and steadily. He is not sober, but nor is he as drunk as Thor. It’s a safe place to be.

“A midnight snack,” Thor explains, sitting up a bit and fixing Loki with an earnest stare, as if he is about to provide him with the answers to the universe, “is a snack … which is eaten at or close to midnight.”

Loki waits for him to continue. When he doesn’t, Loki cannot help his own laughter. Thor is such a dope, he thinks fondly. Loki may be more drunk than he’d realized, because it suddenly seems very funny instead of irritating. “You might have to write that one down for me, brother,” is all he says. “I might not remember your detailed and thorough explanation, otherwise.”

“True enough,” Thor agrees, with another laugh. He picks up a new bottle of whiskey, uncapping it easily as he settles back into his chair. “So, what say you, brother? Do you want to go on an adventure?” He gives a grin and wiggles his eyebrows a bit.

“Hmm. I rather think I’ve had enough adventure to last awhile.” Loki extends the bottle in his hand, swirling it around to determine how much is left. A fair amount, but less than he expected. “Don’t you?”

“Never,” Thor answers earnestly. “As long as I have a heart that beats, it will beat in tune to the battle cry of Asgard, it will echo glory and honor to Valhalla itself, it will -”

“Norns, I’m sorry I asked,” Loki cuts him off. “I used to hate that, you know,” he adds. He feels languid, lethargic, and the words slip from his tongue before he realizes he’d been thinking them. Once they are out, it is too late to swallow them back down again. He sips his whiskey, avoiding Thor’s gaze.

“Hate what?”

Loki waves a hand. “Your … unquenchable thirst for battle,” he elaborates. “I never understood why anyone would willingly seek out battle. Defending yourself is one thing, but …” He trails off, lifts his shoulders. “You never lost that, you know? That battle-lust. You were taken down a few pegs, to be sure, but you seek battle as ferociously as you ever have.” Loki grins, despite himself. “You’re just not so irritating about it anymore.”

Thor tilts his head, his eye flicking over Loki. He does not look unpleased with the assessment, but for a long while, he does not say anything, either. Finally, after a particularly large swallow of whiskey, he says, “I think that’s the most you’ve really said to me at one time in … quite a long time.”

“I speak to you all the time,” Loki reminds him.

“No, you don’t.” Thor adjusts himself slightly, crossing one ankle over the other. “You respond to me. You offer your opinion, warranted or not. Occasionally you make a joke. But you don’t speak to me about how you feel. You don’t speak to me about our lives before … well, everything. You don’t even mention Asgard anymore, though the wound must still be as fresh for you as it is for me.”

Loki does not speak of Asgard because speaking about it will not bring it back. He feels a slight twitch in his chest, where his heart lies. Indeed, the wound is fresh, but that is one of the many differences between himself and Thor. Loki nurses his wounds privately, bandaging them up with silence and repression, while Thor lets his bleed for everyone to see. “It would serve little purpose to speak of,” Loki answers, resting his head against the back of his chair. His face feels warm, which is one of the tell-tale signs that he is growing less sober.

“Perhaps,” Thor agrees, to Loki’s surprise. “But I wish you would try more often.”

A silence falls over them, weighted with all of the things they have not said. Loki takes a very long swallow of his drink, finishing off the rest of the bottle in one sip. He is sorry he said anything, sorry that his words punctured the relative peace that they’d had before. “Okay,” he says, setting his bottle down a bit too hard on the table. “Let’s go on an adventure.”

“What?” Thor blinks.

“I’ve had a change of heart,” Loki tells him, sitting up. His head spins. He was going to be feeling this tomorrow. “Come on, before it changes again.”

At once, Thor’s face splits into his wide, brilliant smile. Norns, but Loki loves that stupid smile. He is inebriated enough to admit to himself, but still sensible enough not to speak it aloud. Thor does not need any more reason to be arrogant. “Rhodey told me of a restaurant,” Thor says as he stands and offers Loki his hand. Loki grasps it, and Thor pulls him up, and they both stumble a bit.

“You big oaf,” Loki grumbles, righting himself.

“Rhodey told me of a restaurant,” Thor continues, as if Loki had not spoken, “where one might find a spectacular midnight snack. I believe he said it’s called McDonalds.”

“All right,” Loki says, weaving carefully around Thor to the patio door. “Is it far?”

“Only a few blocks. Now, brother,” Thor begins, setting his expression very straight, “this is an adventure, a quest, which we cannot fail. It must be treated with the utmost care and precision.”

“I didn’t know you knew the definition of those words.”

“Shut up. We must move quietly, stealthily, lest the others see what we are doing.”

“Thor,” Loki says, growing more amused by the moment, “no one else is here.”

“That we know of,” Thor retorts. He gives Loki a little nudge and Loki rolls his eyes, but he carefully opens the patio door and slips inside. The apartment is dim, but not dark. Thor, practically on Loki’s heels, keeps whispering, “Shhh!”

“I didn’t say anything,” Loki retorts, and stumbles over one of Thor’s discarded boots. “Shit. Thor, how many times -”

Thor clamps his hand over Loki’s mouth, giving him a frown of disapproval. Loki wants to snicker, but refrains. He has forgotten how truly silly Thor can be, when the mood strikes just right. When Thor removes his hand, Loki speaks again, in an exaggerated whisper.

“How many times have I told you not to leave your damn boots around?”

“I don’t remember.” Thor leans over and scoops up the boot, shoving it on before searching for its mate. Loki waits patiently for him. He cannot help a snicker when Thor steps too widely and loses his balance, collapsing onto the sofa.

“What were you saying about stealth, brother?”

Thor shoots Loki a glare, but it does not hold more than a few seconds before his own face collapses into amusement. When he finally finishes putting on his boots, they waste another few minutes searching for their keys, wallets, all manner of trinkets that one must carry everywhere with him on Midgard. Once they have thoroughly prepared for their adventure, they set off into the cool evening, Thor banging the door closed rather loudly behind them.

“You never were very good at sneaking around,” Loki remarks. He wobbles a bit as they begin walking, and Thor must notice, for he reaches out and grips Loki’s arm. Loki responds by gripping Thor back, until they are clinging to one another as if they were mere boys. “Do you remember when we’d sneak into the kitchen after evening meal for pastries?”

“Oh, yes!” Thor seems to have completely forgotten stealth; his voice booms around them, deep and warm. It sends a reverberating shiver weaving through Loki’s ribs. Neither of them are walking in a particularly straight line, Loki notices with amusement. All of this is so terribly funny. “We got caught more times than not, I believe.”

“Yes, because you were utterly incapable of stealth,” Loki reminds him. “You’d crash about, pretend we were sword-ing through dragons and beasts -” He cuts himself off and starts laughing. “Oh my, did you hear me lose that verb? Sword fighting, I meant to say.”

“Yes, hold on.” Thor lets go of Loki enough to bend over, pretending to fumble around on the ground. He comes back up a moment later, victory in his grin. He extends a hand to Loki. “I believe you dropped your verb, good sir.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Loki says, plucking the empty air from Thor’s palm and making a show of tucking it into his pocket. “I’ll just leave that there, in case I need it later. Thank you kindly, my friend.”

“That is what heroes do,” Thor answers with an exaggerated swagger, which throws both of them off balance. It sets Loki off again, and when Thor laughs with him, his eye twinkles with more than just inebriation. It is happiness, Loki realizes.

By the time they get to the restaurant, neither of them are taking anything seriously. Which is likely a good thing, because Loki is immediately appalled upon entering the brightly-lit building. “Now, Loki,” Thor says seriously as, for some bizarre reason, they approach the counter. It is relatively empty, but the servants on the opposite side of the counter are looking at Thor and Loki warily. “This is not a usual restaurant. We must order and pay first, and then choose our own table.”

Loki looks at him as if he has lost his mind. It is entirely possible that he has. Still, Thor strides forward confidently, leaving Loki no choice but to follow.

“Welcome to McDonald’s,” says the boy behind the counter, his gaze flicking from Loki to Thor and back again. He is practically a child, Loki thinks. “What can I get for you?”

“I don’t know,” Loki answers, glancing at Thor. What kind of place has Thor brought them to? It seems utterly ludicrous. “What does the chef recommend?”

The child blinks. “Um, sir, this - this is McDonald’s,” he responds, as if Loki had not heard him say that very thing just a moment ago. Loki should be very irritated, but instead, he hides a smile behind his hand.

“Please, excuse my brother,” Thor speaks up. “He isn’t used to proper Earth etiquette.” The child’s brow furrows, but Thor goes on, in a very straight voice, “What would the McChef of McDonald’s recommend?”

Loki breaks up, turning his head and pressing it into Thor’s shoulder as he snickers.

“Uh.” The child sounds as if he is already sick of them. “A lot of people like the Big Mac.”

“We’ll have that, then.”

The rest of the transaction goes by, with Loki trying unsuccessfully to stop laughing while Thor takes great care with his words and movements. When they are finished at the counter, they weave around tables and find a booth near the back, where Loki collapses and lets out a breath. “I don’t know why this is so funny,” he admits to Thor, rubbing his eyes. “But the look on that boy’s face -”

Thor is grinning, sliding into the seat opposite Loki. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen you have so much fun,” he admits, and picks up a potato stick. “I miss it.”

“Do not get maudlin, Thor,” Loki warns, poking uncertainly at his meal. “Norns, what is this? It looks absolutely revolting.”

“This is the finest cuisine Midgard has to offer,” Thor responds cheerfully. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“All the more reason to flee this wretched realm,” Loki replies. “Will you remind me why we chose this place?”

“Because,” Thor says grandly, “I am king, and I am an Avenger, and thus I am needed here. Where else might we go? Can I really risk our people to the dwarves of Nidavellir? The trickery of the Vanir? The humans are relatively harmless to our people and, thus, we may co-exist for awhile. The Avengers, as well, will always need another pair of - oh, brother, might I borrow that verb?”

Loki rolls his eyes, stubborn smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He exaggerates reaching into his pocket and then extending his palm to Thor. “It is all yours,” he says.

Thor very carefully pantomimes picking up the verb from Loki’s palm. “Thank you kindly. The Avengers will always need another pair of fighting hands. Therefore, this is the correct place to be.”

“I suppose I defer to your wisdom, then, my king,” Loki returns magnanimously. He pokes at his food again. “But the food is still disgusting.”