#did it get a squirrel? rat? still unsure

[garry-oak-pkmn-master]

Starting the new year off right with a red-tailed hawk sighting ❤️

[ironheartedfae]

[pm] I believe that is what they are. A little too large to be mice or rats. Plus they make that teeny kkih-kih-kih-kuh sort of noise when they are sound making at each other. I do not believe squirrels have language, otherwise I would have said speaking with each other.

[..........] I do not like to take off my glamour. You are [......] first I have done so on purpose to. I do not know if room placement makes for difference?

Some stranger left money in bag of treats she helped me get. I did not ask this of her. But materials seemed good things to buy, yes? I am still unsure how all of the money thing is meant to work. It was odd though she also had red hair and freckles. She lied to a man who was yelling at me to say we were sisters.

[....]

I do enjoy nature.

I will continue to take pictures, we can always go over things if you want to know more. Or if you spot something. I do not know everything. Mostly of fae. Even then there are so many kinds. I hardly know every detail. [.....] In fact I mostly just know how to kill them. Dangers they pose. This does not seem as nice. Apologies.

[pm] We have squirrels in the laundry room walls? Is that what I heard skittering around Well that's good to know; Mirabel's noticed, too. That's very interesting though... though I do wonder why you glamour so often around the house? Would you feel safer if you had the room upstairs?

[User reads the message before hearing her going up and down the stairs. He waits until she's back down before opening his door to retrieve the custom journal. He brushes the cover with his fingers and takes its scent in - it smells like her. He smiles but keeps it closed. Evidence.]

Exactly! That's why I wanted to make the distinction - we aren't eating outside of necessity, we're doing it to enjoy nature.

Thank you for the journal, by the way - it's beautiful, and I'll be very careful with it.

[kyoupann]

fic request: hyrule "getting lost" on purpose for some alone time from the group, and bringing someone with him to find a cool spot and just hang out a while! bonus if it turns out he very rarely actually gets lost and just uses it as an excuse xD extra bonus if it's legend 👉👈

Anon, I love you. You're the epitome of big brain.

Have Hyrule and Legend having a wholesome moment. It's not much, but it's honest work. <3

Bold of you to believe Hyrule gets lost easily

Being on an adventure with a party was quite different from what Hyrule had imagined; truth to be told, the thought never crossed his mind. But when it finally became a reality and he found himself surrounded by people 24/7, the closeness, the noise, started to suffocate him.

Don't take him wrong, he loves his new friends. He absolutely does. Ones more than others, but he still loves them all. But he could do with fewer people from time to time. And since some of the others didn't seem to be willing to separate for more than a couple of minutes, unless extremely required, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

The first time was almost accidental. He did go off-trail for a bathroom break, but as he waited for his business to be finished he realised how quiet the woods were; no clinking of armour, no footsteps, no small chat, just birds chirping and treetops rustling gently against each other. Just pure, comfortable quiet. He didn't even notice that he had finished already, so lost contemplating his surrounding and how much he missed this. Soon enough, he snapped out of it, fixed his clothes and started heading back to the main trail. The group was probably far ahead, so he didn't rush to reach them. Instead, he took his time, idly following the trail and admiring the beauty around him: massive trees, so tall they covered the sky, the only source of light slipping through the gaps between the leaves; so lovely and delicate and warm. Without the noise of a full travelling party, he noticed that the small creatures of the forest didn't mind his silent steps,  some hares peeking from their burrows and a couple of squirrels chasing each other down a tree trunk.

He didn't know how long it took him to catch up with the group, but he knows that it must have been a good half an hour or more; their faces showing nothing but annoyance, maybe a bit of worry etched on their youngest companion, but irritation definitely took the lead.

"Where were you?!" was the first thing one of them asked, followed by some concerned queries about his well-being.

He took exactly one second to think and answer "I got lost on my way back."

And from then on, he was never allowed to leave the perimeter without a partner. Which, mind you, fucking sucked. There he was trying not to hurt anybody's feelings, yet his answer ended up backfiring in the worst way possible; not only was it harder to have some quiet, but the group also started to underestimate his sense of direction in a way that felt almost insulting. Did he have to remind them that there are no maps in his Hyrule and yet he knows the land like the back of his hand? But go off, not like he cares, anyway.

He tried to not let it bother him, and not past a couple of days, he found a solution to the very same problem he got himself into. He started to sneak out without anyone noticing, and if they did notice, they were nice enough to not rat him out. To each their own, whatever. It became a habit, whenever he would feel the tingling sensation at the nape of his neck, he would begin to fall behind and leave the group as soon as he saw an opportunity. Often times, it was Wild and his weird wolf who found him pacing around somewhere, the blue-clad hero with a mischievous smile on his face while the wolf sported a frown, not thrilled to be on hunt duty. Other times, Hyrule made his way back to the group a couple of hours later, before anyone started arranging a rescue team for someone who clearly didn't need it. But he appreciated the sentiment; at least he knows that they wouldn't just ditch him anytime.

One day, though, he noted that their veteran was in a sour mood, more than any other day. He had no idea that could be possible, but, hey, you learn new things every day. He felt kindness fill his body more than usual and was willing to let the veteran in on his little secret. He didn't need to worry too much before turning to him as they unpacked their stuff for the night.

"Hey, I'm feeling a bit restless," he said and the other just hummed in response, "do you want to go for a walk with me?"

"No."

For a moment, he thought of dropping it right then; but on the other hand, he was feeling a tad overwhelmed by the noise coming from the guys helping the cook with dinner and the others taking care of their gear. Couldn't they be a bit more... silent? For mostly mute companions, they sure were extremely loud in their tasks sometimes.

"Please, everyone is busy," he pleaded, now moving to be face to face with the veteran, "please, Leg. It won't take long."

He saw the Legend drop his shoulders in surrender before agreeing to a short walk around the area. And as soon as they had their stuff ready, they took off.

Hyrule was excited to have some alone time after what had been entire days without the opportunity to sneak out. He didn't even mind Legend coming with him. In fact, he was delighted to have him around. While Legend often worried about his disappearing habits, he was also the most chill about it. He really liked him. He hoped that this walk would ease his mind of whatever was bothering him; he wasn't going to ask, that was not the point of this. If Legend wanted to talk, they would.

"It sure is nice around here," Legend said, as emotionless as ever, making Hyrule question if he even meant it.

There were no trees blocking the sky, the sea of constellations shining brightly above them as they walked up a hill. Hyrule guessed it was most likely a small mountain if his adventure had taught him anything. The path was becoming too steep for them to trek in a straight line. Just as soon as they got to what seemed to be a dead-end, Legend whistled, catching the traveller's attention.

"It was a great walk," he said, boots already turning around and retracing his steps. "Time to go back."

But Hyrule didn't follow him. Instead, he reached in front of him.

"Last to get to the top is a bald cuccoo," he shouted as he started his climb.

He didn't even look back to check on Legend, he knew he would be following him. They climbed in silence, saving their energy and attention for the slippery rocks that fell from their hands and under the weight of their boots.

About ten minutes later, when the moon was at its highest point, Hyrule reached a small plateau on the side of the mountain. It might not be the destination they had in mind, but he couldn't deny that the view from there was stunning. To their south, he could see the prairie they had passed through early in the day, the light of the moon illuminating every single patch of grass and rock; on the other side of the mountain, to the north, Hyrule could spot the light and smoke coming from their campsite. They weren't that far, after all. Just enough to relax.

"What the fuck? You can't just say shit like that and start climbing, Hyrule!" Legend wheezed as he dragged his body over the edge, completely out of breath and slamming his back against the cold ground.

Hyrule ran to aid him to stand up, extending small apologies as he offered his hand, his shoulders shaking with a stifled chuckle.

"What are you talking about? That was fun!"

He gave Legend the time to look around, hoping that the view would make him forget his irritation. In the end, he guesses he succeeded; a soft smile adorned the other's face.

"I wished we could stay longer, but we gotta head back."

Hyrules ears perked up in interest and a grin that showed nothing but mischief appeared.

"Oh, it would be such a shame if we got lost on our way back and we had to wait until morning to avoid getting even more lost in the dark."

It took Legend 5 seconds before the gears in his mind began to work and process what Hyrule said.

"You little shit," he punched him on his arm playfully, earning him a cackle from the traveller. "You. cheeky. little. shit." He marked each word with a punch, each less hard than the last.

Hyrule rubbed his arm, "so, what do you say?" He looked at Legend expectantly, " If you want to go back to the others, we'll go. I'm not keeping you here, but I think some time off would do us good."

It was then that Legend noticed that Hyrule had brought his bag with him. He sat down and started pulling a variety of items from it, a fabric too thin to be a blanket being one of them.

With a snap of his fingers, a nearby bush lit on fire, and in no time they had their own little impromptu camp set up.

"I have some fish if you want me to make something," he pointed to his bag, but as always, he didn't wait for a response, already elbow-deep into the bag looking for the food, "caught it this morning, it's basically fresh."

Two small fish stabbed through the middle with a stick later, he handed one stick for Legend to grill over the fire.

"So... you get lost... on purpose..."

"Yep."

"Why?"

Hyrule bit the inside of his cheek and flipped his fish over, " for the exact same reason you accepted to come with me, I suppose." He took the fish off the fire and inspected it. "Unlike most of you, I didn't have a companion during my adventures. Having someone to talk to whenever is nice and all but... well, I simply value my privacy. I like being alone."

Legend could only hum in agreement. He rolled his stick, half of his fish almost burnt, "Wow, thanks," he said, his words coated with sarcasm.

"I like being alone with you," he laughed at his own words, a bit unsure of how to fix what he had said, but no less true.

A soft smile pulled at Legend's lips. He sighed in contentment and extended an arm to ruffle Hyrule's hair.

"I like being with you, too."

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

*cracks knuckles and wiggles fingers in front of keyboard* if it's not to much to ask for mayhaps some brother's best friend with Luke where the reader's brother brings him along and they're S.O. (who hadms beef with Luke) shows up and Luke defends them when their SO makes comment about them. Overall they realize their SO is trash and Luke and them confess feelings :) Also just wanted to say how much ily and appreciate you FEEDING me and fulfilling my requests. You're a gem

Thanks for your patience while I work on this! Reader Insert (Gender neutral pronouns used). 

Note: This is the last one this time. Thanks to everyone that participated and sent me requests. 

Enjoy my Christmas 2020 Blurb masterlist

Enjoy my full masterlist

____________________

Luke’s boot click as he walks up to the house. It’s familiar, one that he had grown fond of when he needed a place to crash for an hour or two after a night of drinking, or the house he would be at to drink. Because let’s be honest, he could always be a riot especially when he got linked up with friends--especially with you and your brother, but mostly your brother. 

He knocks on the door, the night air just barely nipping at his hands as he tucks them back into the pockets of his leather jacket. His can hear the thump of the bass outside the house door. The Christmas decorations have started to come down. The lights remain up the the wreath is gone thanks to the new year just on the other side of dawn. And speaking of dawn, Luke checks the time one more time--11:23 PM. He has been out since nine at night, as he was supposed to hang out with the guys until the new year came in but when Luke’s phone buzzed around 11 with a reminder that there was a second party that he had accepted an invite to, Luke dipped. Sure he could ring in the new year with the band. But he’d see them again in a couple days. He wanted to come by, see how you were doing and hang out with your brother since he hadn’t gotten the chance to see both of you all at Christmas. 

“Look you finally showed up,” you laugh. “Took you long enough.”

“I'll have you know that this is my second party of the night. I am right on time,” he grinned. 

You laugh. “Very true. Good beers are in the fridge. We’re mostly in the backyard.”

Luke wraps you up into a quick hug. “Thanks for the tip. How’d you hear me knocking?”

“Had to pee. Curse my tiny squirrel bladder. Or maybe in your case, praise it.”

He gives a tiny bow as he makes his way to the kitchen. “All hail the squirrel bladder. Is your brother around? Or has he bailed to the forbidden upstairs with his girl?”

“He and his girls are on the outs. Don’t know how permanently, so he’s in the backyard too,” you explain, locking the front door. Then turn to follow Luke into the kitchen. Your drink was done too, you finished it right before answering the door. It’s totally not the fact that you were trying to avoid your significant other. Who hadn’t even had a drink before they first insulted you at the start of the night. You knew it was probably time to duck out of the relationship, but you just hadn’t found the right words or time to do it. 

Luke grabs a beer and holds it over the top of the open fridge door. “Want one?”

“Need something stronger,” you tease and then grab the handle of vodka off the kitchen counter. 

“Holy shit, what the hell happened?”

You hear your name bellowed and bouncing throughout the house. You don’t even a chance to sigh at the sound of your drunk significant other screaming your name before they shout it again. “Kitchen!” you holler, slamming the bottle back down. 

Luke jolts at the sound and watches your partner barrel around the corner. They single you out with a single digit. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Taking a piss. Letting Luke into the party. Fixing a drink. You know, doing what one does at a new years party.”

“I been looking all around for you.”

“Well, you found me. What do you need?”

The fridge door is a barrier, at least for Luke. He stands behind it, unsure of what is about to go down and mostly because he had forgotten about closing it when your significant other started screaming. But it seems like they were too preoccupied with you to notice him, until now. They gaze up to Luke is slow and the expression goes from bored normal drunk angry to something darker. “Were you fucking him, right here in the kitchen?” your significant other shouts. Their brows have furrowed, frown lines creating wrinkles on on their cheeks. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” you return. 

“No, no, Jesus. I was getting a drink. I just fucking got here,” Luke returns, stepping back from the fridge and swinging the door close, as if to reveal the fact that no pants were around ankles and they couldn’t have been. 

“You’re such a fucking whore.” The insult is thrown at you but Luke feels it in his chest. 

Luke steps closer, placing his body between you and your significant other. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He returns, hands shaking around the bottle of the beer. 

“You two are clearly fucking and you, you’ve been messing around my back with fucking everyone.”

“I haven’t touched anyone,” your screech in return. “I was taking a piss. I let Luke in and I went to fix a fucking drink.”

“No, but you cheated on me. Because you’re just never satisfied. You don’t think I’m good enough. Fucking town whore, might as well make your apartment the whore house.”

There’s a sharp clink and before you can look up form the counter where the bottle of beer titters and nearly falls another dull thud follows the sound. You look up to see Luke towering over your significant other on the floor. You rush forward and catch the bottle before it falls and get it stable before walking over to the two of them. 

“You’re going to fucking apologize and then you’re taking your drunk ass out of this party. Do not call, or text, or come crying back. Get the fuck out of here and stay the fuck away from them,” Luke warns. 

“Or what?” 

“Go.” It’s only one word, one syllable that falls from Luke’s tongue. You can see his hands visibly shaking. You know he’s not the type to actually resort to physical violence and you’re shocked that Luke’s the one that seem to start this. It had to be a shove but even that’s more than you ever expected from Luke. Granted, the lack of balance on your partner’s part helped to. 

“Have fun with them,” your partner chuckles. 

“You’re an asshole,” you finally speak up, stepping out from behind Luke and grab the handle of vodka. “You’re a giant fucking asshole and I hope you rot in fucking hell,” you huff, throwing some of the alcohol into their face. They sputter and shout up at you. But you don’t listen to it as you continue to rant on. “You’re the one cheating. You had your tongue shoved so far down Christine’s throat an hour ago I’m shocked she didn’t choke on it. You're the one sleeping through your entire office--you’re the one that people talk about. I worked, I worked as an escort for the last year in college to help after I lost everything and you think you have the right to shove it in my face. I can’t believe I tolerated this for this long.”

Luke takes hold of your arm to stop the pour. “That’s expensive vodka,” he teases. “I am glad though it’s not tequila.” 

You huff but stop, keeping your attention trained on the movement of your new found ex. “Get the hell out of my life.”

Luke checks his watch again--11:26. The front door opens and closes. “Okay, first thing first, you’ve got 34 minutes until the new year and you’re already hitting major goals by speeding about 170 pounds in mere minutes. And what’s your guess on how long we have to clean this up before your brother flips?”

“However long until the party ends, he sleeps and wakes up in the morning,” you return. “I’ll grab some towels.” 

Luke grabs some paper towels. He knows he can’t grab too many but he can at least attempt to keep the alcohol from reaching the rugs until you come back with the towels. You worry back down the hallway with an armful of towels and toss one out to Luke who uses it as a barrier to keep the rug safe. You take one and start trying to soak up the middle of the mess.

“Thanks,” you say, looking up from the floor. “For sticking up for me.”

“Of course. You don’t deserve that from anyone. And they were a garbage person anyway. Wish I had kicked their ass.” Luke takes another towel from the pile you dropped them in on the dining room table and starts helps keeping the alcohol from spreading too far into the kitchen.

“Hey, no. I don’t think I’ve got enough savings to get you out on bail,” you laugh. 

“Oh you wouldn’t have ratted me out. They would’ve deserved it.”

You nod with a bit of a snicker, grabbing another towel and help Luke with his end of the river of vodka. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have.”

“I can always count of you,” Luke laughs. 

“Call it older sibling complex. I’m use to saving someone’s ass.” You’re about two years older than Luke, but it doesn’t feel like that. And your brother that Luke hangs out with is older than you by a year and a half. But there were still some siblings after you, so it was just a chain reaction. You and your bother would cover for your other siblings, but only sometimes. Sometimes you got sick of jumping into the fire and what’s life without some healthy sibling rivalry. 

You and Luke manage to clean up the alcohol and go to grab the last towel at the same time. You’re holding the garbage bag so that you could transport said towels to the laundry room without dripping more alcohol all over the house. “I got it,” you insist. 

Luke doesn’t loosen his grip. “You sure you’re okay? Seems like a lot happened even before I got here.”

“I’ve been meaning to shed those extra pounds for weeks now. Today was just the final straw.”

“Did-did they ever say anything like sober? You know you can talk to me. I care about you.”

“I know you do, Luke. I appreciate it. But I’m okay. Well as okay as a person can be. I’ve known for a long time, like I said. They weren’t as sneaky as they thought they were.”

“But still. That’s a lot to go through. If you ever need someone, talk to me.”

You sigh but nod, looking into the rich blue of Luke’s eyes. “I will.” 

“I like you,” he confesses but he’s sure you won’t take it that way. “I’d like to keep you around and I need you to know I don’t judge you. I would never judge you.”

“I know,” is your whispered reply. 

He almost gives in. Almost kisses you but instead, Luke nods. “Good.” 

You finally get the last towel and take it to the laundry room, leaning into the washer. There was no way that was real. There was no way Luke leaned into you and there’s no way you almost leaned into him too. No, it’s just the alcohol you tell yourself. It’s just the moment--him coming to your defense. But you know just underneath it all there was something--small, tiny, almost something you could brush aside. But it always came back. 

Starting up the washer, from all the nights you crashed at your brother’s place. Originally you were going to move out with him, but he found some friends that wanted to go in on the house, and you figured that was better for him. You managed to find a place and some friends that didn’t mind going In on the rent either. That didn’t mean that you didn’t bug the shit of your brother though when you could, by crashing at his place or watching over the place whenever him and his friends needed a house sitter to take care of the plants that you gave him. 

You step out of the laundry room and find Luke walking down towards the backdoor, two beers in hand. “I figured you’d need a drink after a night like this,” he grins with a bit of a sheepish grin. 

“Or two, or three,” you laugh. “But thanks. Just-just don’t tell my brother. At least not until morning, I don’t need him trying to drunkenly get into a fight.”

Luke nods. “I understand.”

The two of you join the party and Luke finds your brother easily. But he doesn’t let his gaze drift too far from you. You have some friends you seem to have invited too and it’s not too long after your reunion with them that they are flocked around you. Luke can just faintly catch the gasps they release. But soon the group of you are too far, too deep into the dance floor that he can’t hear anymore or see what’s happening. 

“Two minutes!” Someone shouts. The party herds itself inside to watch the ball drop. But Luke lingers behind as everyone moves inside to find you and sure enough you’re lingering behind too. 

“The ball’s not dropping out here,” Luke laughs. 

“Don’t need a ball to drop to make a change,” you return staring up at the sky. It’s hard to see any of the stars but you imagine what they’d look like blinking back at you from so high up. 

“You made one hell of a change tonight,” he agrees. The backdoor stays open and he can hear the concentrated chatter of the group. 

You nod and look over to Luke. “I did make one hell of a change tonight. But changes can happen at any time, anywhere.”

“I agree.”

And you almost wish he’d look at you, so that you could say it and show him what you mean, so that you could even admit to yourself that you mean. But Luke doesn’t look down. So you settle with just watching him and then turn back to the sky. You slip your hand through his and think this might be change enough too. 

Luke squeezes your hand in return. He grins just a little but tries to keep it hidden before turning his attention back to you. You’re staring up at the sky still. The countdown’s started from inside and Luke just watches you. “Six, Five, Four, Three, Two, One!” The house erupts into cheers. You squeeze Luke’s hand in return. 

[the-shadow-of-atlantis]

Losing A Friend

Summary: Part of the Throughout the Years series. Annabella experiences loss and Burce is unsure how to handle it.

Tagging: @lizartgurl (Still going to tag you while you’re gone) @thespacebuns @melyaliz @coffee-randomness @speedypan @gobydana

A/N So I know for a fact I posted this not too long ago because @thespacebuns reblogged with her amazing tag comments but as I’m working on updating my master list I cant find this one so I dont know if i accidentally elected it or if tumblr did

Warnings: Pet death(Honestly it was so hard to write this)

Read Earlier Parts Here

Ever since that old black cat had come into Annabella’s life Bruce knew there was something special about it. Annabella couldn’t go anywhere without the cat following her. The cat had been dubbed Mr. Kitty and he was her protector. Sure lots of people tended to give Annabella and Mr. Kitty a side eye but Bruce didn’t really mind he knew the cat made her happy and that’s what mattered the most, though he could never help but wonder where did he come from.

“Are you sure you didn’t send him?” Bruce asked as he watched Annabella play in the garden with Mr. Kitty.

“Should I be offended that you think I’d spy on my granddaughter with a cat?” Teresa said over the phone.

“So your not spying on her?” Bruce asked.

“Not with a cat.”

Bruce sighed as he watched Annabella collect some flowers. “Do you think the god has anything to do with this?”

“To be honest I am not sure. It could be. Though she’s too young to be tested already.”

Bruce simply hummed a response.

“Speaking of being watched over… have you found anything recent?”

“No, and I’ve given the case over to someone else. Someone who can be a bit more thorough than me. But for someone who doesn’t have magic anymore she’s good at keeping hidden.”

“You sure know how to pick them Mr. Wayne.”

“If I recall she’s the one who came after me.” Bruce mumbled.

“Well looks like everything will be on schedule then. I can’t wait to see her. The pictures you’ve sent are adorable but still I want to hold my granddaughter.”

“You will, just one more year.” Bruce said then noticed Annabella was walking back. “I have to go We’ll talk later.”

“Goodbye Mr. Wayne and give my granddaughter a kiss for me.”

“Will do.” Bruce replies and hung up tucking the phone away in my back pant pocket.

Annabella came walking up to him a small bunch of flowers in her hands, Mr.Kitty trotted next to her holding a rather large bug in its mouth.

“Hi papa.” Annabella smiled holding the flowers up to him. “For you.”

Bruce smiled as he leaned down taking the flowers. Mr. Kitty dropped the bug by Bruce’s feet and meowed happily. Bruce was used to these cat gifts, he use to get dead rats and one squirrel but after Annabella got upset at seeing them the began hunting the bugs instead. Though Bruce still found a dead rat in his study from time to time.

“Thank you sunshine, and thank you Mr. Kitty.” Bruce kissed Annabella’s head then scratched the cats head.

“Mr. Kitty wants a nap.” Annabella said rubbing her own eyes.

“Then let’s set you both down for a nap.” Bruce said picking Annabella up and taking her to her room.

Annabella took Mr. Kittys health very seriously so Bruce did too. So when Annabella came to him one morning worried about him Bruce knew it was important.

“Papa.” Annabella whispered carefully shaking Bruces arm. “Papa.”

“Hmm what? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Bruce mumbled getting up quickly and inspected her.

“No.” Annabella said. “Somethings wrong with Mr. Kitty.”

“Oh? What is it?” Bruce asked rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“He’s not eating his breakfast and he looks sad.” Annabella explained.

“Okay let me see.” Bruce said picking up Annabella and getting out off bed.

Sure enough when they got to where Mr. Kitty likes to lay down he was curled up and staring at the floor as if he was too sad to move.

“Hey buddy whats wrong?” Bruce asked a scratching the cat on the head.

Mr. Kitty lifted his head and meowed softly before tucking his head into his paws. Bruce frowned and checked him for any injuries. Annabella tried to give him some food but he wouldn’t budge.

“Let’s take him to Virginia.” Bruce decided when he couldn’t spot anything wrong with him.

“Okay.” Annabella mumbled petting the cat softly.

Bruce knew it was bad when Virginia came back from checking on Mr. Kitty.

“Bruce can I speak to you.” Virginia said quietly glancing carefully at Annabella who was being distracted by Olivia.

“What is it?” Bruce asked when they stepped into her office.

Virginia sighed as she rubbed her eyes, she looked at Bruce with sympathy.

“Bruce I’m sorry, I don’t know how I didn’t catch it sooner but it appears Mr. Kitty has bone cancer.” Virginia said.

“Is it treatable?” Bruce asked, Virginia shook her head softly.

“I’m sorry but we don’t really know how old he is and how long he can fight this. I can have him start treatment. At the most I give him a year… your going to need to prepare Annabella for when the time comes.”

Bruce sighed and rubbed his face. He wasn’t sure how to break this news to her. He had hoped he wouldn’t have to tell her about things like this till she was older.

“Yeah I know. I’ll tell her.” Bruce sighed.

The months that followed were hard. Annabella was a bit confused as to why Mr. Kitty wasn’t getting better with the medicine, and Bruce had a hard time explaining what was happening. Still she seemed to take Mr. Kitties health even more seriously, making sure to give him his medicine on time and that he would eat properly.

“It’s medicine time Mr. Kitty.” Bruce heard Annabella say as he walked into her play room.

Mr. Kitty meowed in displeasure and Annabella petted his head.

“I know but it’s good for you.” Annabella reasoned Bruce kneeled down next her holding the medicine.

Annabella carefully held him as Bruce administered the medicine. Bruce gave the cat a small pat as he finished.

“How about we eat outside let Mr. Kitty get some fresh air.” Bruce suggested hoping to cheer her up.

“Okay.” Annabella nodded setting the cat down.

Bruce could tell the cat was trying to perk up for her.

When the day finally came Bruce felt as if his heart was going to break. He held Annabella as she cried her little heart out. Even Alfred was trying to hold back tears as he collected cat to safely put away. Bruce had decided to stay as Batman to protect her but how could he protect her against a broken heart?

“I don’t know what to do.” Bruce whispered as he rubbed his head, Selina set down a cup of coffee in front of him. “I thought maybe bringing her here might cheer her up a bit.”

The two adults looked into selinas living room where Annabella was checking the heartbeat of Selinas cat Isis. The other cats who were use to the little girl simply laid down around her waiting their turn to be “checked”.

“She’s been latching onto her kitty doctor dream a lot more.” Bruce said sadly smiling at the scene before him.

“She’s coping.” Selina said

“I know.” Bruce sighed. “I’m debating if I should get her another pet.”

“No, not now. It’s too soon. Wait for her to tell you. Right now just keep doing what your doing. Bring her here whenever you want so she can do checkups. Take her to her vet friend whenever you can. Keep encouraging her dream and she’ll get through this.” Selina said giving Bruce a small kiss on his cheek.

Bruce smiled softly and turned to face her. “Thank you, and on a different note I’ve been invited to a wedding and I need a plus one.”

“I thought you normally turn down these things.”

“Apparently my presence is being demanded and yes they’re even letting Annabella attend so no I can’t use her as an excuse.” Bruce said reading Selinas expression.

“Well in that case sure, whose wedding is it?” Selina asked and Bruce’s lips set into a fine lin.

“It’s for Falcone’s nephew.” He mumbled.

“I see.” Selina said smoothly her eyes fixed on Annabella again. “Tell me when and I'll meet you there.”

Bruce smiled at her and gave her a kiss.

“Have you buried him yet?” Selina suddenly asked.

“No poor thing is just frozen haven’t had the heart to bury him yet.”

“You should do something special, something to help her say goodbye properly.” Selina said.

Bruce nodded as he watched Annabella snuggle into a pile of cats.

“Okay let's dig just a little more.” Bruce urged, Annabella nodded as she dug some more dirt out of the hole with her little shovel.

“Like that?” Annabella asked when she finished.

“Perfect.” Bruce said as he grabbed the small box.

It was a simple wooden box he had made and let Annabella decorate with little drawings. Carefully he placed it in the hole and covered part of it up with dirt.

“Now we put the plant in.” Bruce said helping Annabella put the plant in place.

“Okay.” Annabella said and carefully began patting more dirt in place.

“Good. Now some water.” Bruce encouraged, Annabella grabbed her little pale and drizzled some water over the plant.

Annabella let out a small huff when she finished and wiped her face.

“We met Mr. Kitty like this.” She suddenly spoke.

“Yeah we did.” Bruce said carefully.

“He loved the garden.”

“Yeah he did.”

“I miss him.” Annabella mumbled.

“I know you do sunshine. I miss him too.” Bruce said wrapping an arm around his daughter.

“I love you papa.” Annabella said burying her face against him.

“I love you too sunshine.”

Annabella looked back at the plant. “Goodnight Mr. Kitty”

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[e11evenkeys]

Pitch: The Adventures of Danger Rabbit- Chapter 2 Friendly Friendly (part 2)

By the time I got BJ home, it was getting late. With it being the weekend, I knew Dad wouldn't mind my staying out a little longer, but it's not like I could walk any faster. I spent a long while trekking from one side of town to the other. BJ and her family stayed in West Point while Wes lived down the street from me in Opic on the east side of town.

Creatures were normal in everyday life, but it was always like wandering into another world when I got to visit Wesson's house. His family had a home with doors, windows, and walls, but those were the only normality's clearly present. Of course, a family of satyrs lived differently from a family of humans. Their house appeared to be carved from a single dark wood tree with bark strong enough to stand changing weather. Their plants grew like a garden on steroids. Sides of their walls were covered in vines, moss, and overgrowth. There were always wild animals like squirrels or raccoons in their bushes. Most satyrs were animal-loving, light-hearted, naturalist, so it made sense that they preferred to live in a place similar to the wilds of a forest. Even the inside of their house seemed similar to outdoors. The floors were a type of lush grass that imitated carpet. They had electricity and running water, but it was sparingly present throughout the house. I loved visiting Wes at his place. Hanging out in his room was like going camping without giving up WIFI.

When I made it to Wesson's place, he was waiting for me on the front porch. He let me inside and took me to his bedroom upstairs. His parents didn't own cars, so I wasn't sure whether or not we had the place to ourselves. Once inside his room, he shut the door behind us.

"You said you needed my ears for something," I asked while Wes jumped into his bed and laid in it stretching out while I took a seat across from him in a wooden chair at his desk.

"Yeah, man," he sat up before he continued. "So I have this snake in my wall," he said.

I'm sure there were several animals throughout his house, but how he spoke told me the snake was an irregularity.

"Why is there a snake in your wall?"

"It got out of its tank," he said as if he'd answered the implied question.

"Since when do you have a pet snake?"

"It's not mine. It's the schools."

"Why do you have the school's snake?"

"They were gonna cut him open in biology class."

"Ok..." I said, waiting for him to continue.

"Ms. Harper told me to bring him back, and if I don't, they'll expel me from school."

"There's only a week left in school, though."

"My dad won't care if it's one week or 10," he said.

Wesson's parents weren't strict by most standards. They let him go to school without wearing pants after all, but the standards magical creatures held their kids to in our town could often be high. Or so I was told.

"I've never hunted anything before," I said as we stood up.

"You can hear really well, though, can't you?"

"Yea, but you can talk to animals."

"I have to know where it is before I can talk him out. Come on, man, I'll owe you."

"Alright, Alright."

I didn't want to promise I'd find his snake when I still hadn't seen my pet rabbit after six years. Unsure of where to start, we both stood around waiting for me to do something. It felt awkward, but eventually, I did the only thing I could logically think of. I put my ear to a wall and tried to listen.

I usually tried to tune things out. Always hearing stuff at such a high level could be annoying, so in most situations, it was best not to focus on the noise around me. That may have been my first time legitimately using my ears like sonar. It was a little surprising how well it actually worked.

I could hear the sound of pipes first. The AC was the next thing to catch my attention before I started to notice things moving around. Every home had some amount of bugs in its walls, and some houses even had rats or birds that could go completely unnoticed. I had to tune everything out before I could focus and make out the sound of slithering. I followed the sound throughout the housekeeping, my ear to the wall. Wes stayed behind me, watching me work. He tried to be supportive but couldn't follow how I was making progress well enough to know when actually to cheer or stay silent. After a while, we ended up in the hallway outside of Wesson's bedroom. I took my ear from the wall and held my hand to the spot the snake was resting.

"It's here," I said

"It's there?"

"Yea."

"Ok, watch out," he said as he moved me out of the way.

"What are you gonna do," I asked, but I received my answer just as quickly.

Without any hesitation, Wes punched a hole in the wall. It wasn't my place to tell him what not to do in his home, but I was pretty sure no one's parents would be happy to come home to holes in the wall.

"Wes," I said, still shocked at how reckless my friend was. I laughed, but I was concerned.

"Don't worry, the house is made of living wood, it'll fix itself," he said as he reached his hand through the hole and dug around.

"If you say so," I replied while I watched.

He must have found it because he started speaking in some language that mimicked snake hissing. Before long, he pulled the scaled creature out and held it around his arm.

"Thanks, man," he said as he turned to me.

"Any time."

He tried to hug me, and I might have let him, if not for the snake jumping from his arm and biting me. I should have seen it coming; of course, a snake would see a man-sized rabbit and think, "that's my next meal." It wasn't venomous, but it was big. As it sank its fangs into the palm of my hand, I thought for sure it was going to come off.

"Shit," I exclaimed as I threw the green reptile away.

Wes scolded the snake as if it were a child while I held my hand, trying to stop the bleeding. That's when I heard Wesson's mom yell up at us, "boys." So they were home. Wes put the snake away in his room before walking me to the bathroom and helping me clean and wrap my hand. He thought it was funny.

"I hope they cut that thing open twice," I said.

"He didn't mean anything by it."

"It was going to eat me."

"Harold was not going to eat you."

"You named the snake!?"

"No... he already had a name."

I couldn't help but crack up. I was still pissed about my hand, but the way Wes was with animals was nothing short of endearing if not adorable.

"Sorry about the jacket," I said, noticing I ruined it with my bloodstains.

It's a good thing it wasn't his usual jacket. He always wore the same hoodie I got him a couple of years back for his birthday. Come to think of it; I don't think he wore clothes before I got him that jacket.

"It's cool, man. You mind if I take it off?"

"You know I can see your dick every time you stand up or stretch, don't you," I replied in a joking tone, but I was serious to some degree.

His fur usually acted as covering enough to forget he didn't wear anything below the belt, but sometimes things would slip through or be easier to notice depending on how he stood or walked.

"Sorry, nature endowed me so well my natural coat can't hide it all."

He shed the extra layer, and for a moment, I couldn't help but realize we were sitting in a bathroom together. He was naked aside from his fur, and we were basically holding hands while he helped me with the bandages. I didn't mean to spaz out, but I yanked my hand away to finish wrapping up on my own. I don't think he was bothered by it, but he must have noticed the unusual tension sitting in the air because he broke the silence. Satyrs had a reputation for being very sexual creatures. You couldn't look them up online without finding porn or stories of sexual exploits. Wes never tried anything with me, and we were friends, but knowing what he was, I figured it was best to avoid provoking any of his natural instincts. I felt a little racist for thinking Wes would be so stereotypically sexually charged that he'd suddenly do something like that, but it was better to be safe than awkwardly sorry, in my opinion.

"What were you and Bug Burner talking about earlier?"

"BJ wants me to apply for a magician's internship with her," I said while we left the bathroom together.

"I thought you hated magic," he said.

"I hate being a rabbit."

"But rabbits are cool."

"No one wants to fuck a rabbit," I joked.

We went back to his room. I stood by the window looking through it up at what might have been stars or satellites. My dad had to have made it home from work by then.

Wes came and stood by my side before asking, "Is that why you're doing the internship?"

"I don't know if I'm doing it yet. BJ said even if we apply, there's no guarantee we'll get in."

That tension was still present, less dense, but still floating around. I didn't think a jacket mattered much when Wes never wore pants, but it made a difference. With his chest and abs out, he was more naked than usual, and I'm not sure how I felt about it.

"For what it's worth, I hope you don't. There's this festival coming up in a few weeks. It's supposed to be one of the longest ever held, and if my parents let me go, I was thinking maybe you could come too."

"What kind of festival?"

"STR," he said as he left my side to find the laptop on his desk. He pulled up a website with information and brought it to me. The first thing I noticed was the lack of humans in all the advertising pictures.

"Isn't that a magical creature type thing?"

"Which we both are," he said, taking a seat in his wooden chair while I leaned my back against his bedroom window.

"I'm not," I said.

"No one would know unless we told them, and if you're trying to get some action, maybe you'll have better luck if you're open to more than human options,” Wes added.

"You mean date an elf, or a troll?"

"Or a satyr."

"Maybe," I said with a grin, "but let's worry about getting the snake back to school first."

[waveswordswhispers]

Joker Game Secret Santa

@marrylissa I was your secret santa! I hope you like this ^_^

Prompts: Gender bender/Modern AU

Summary: The woes of being the girlfriend of a veterinarian technician.

Otherwise known as: in which Tazaki keeps bringing home animals from work and Kaminaga suffers

I. Spring

“It’s hatching season,” Tazaki calls hurriedly over her shoulder as Kaminaga shuts the door behind herself, hunched over a small ball of fluff she’s carefully feeding with a syringe. “The shelter is overrun at this time of year.”

“So are we,” Kaminaga murmured, eyeing the other two small birds shrieking angrily in the makeshift nest sitting beside Tazaki. It means uninterrupted screeching for weeks to come, and Kaminaga thinks she should’ve bought earplugs in preparation since in hindsight, she should’ve known Tazaki had been bound to pick up on some fosters eventually. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to be-“

“Up all night?” Tazaki finishes for her. “I mean maybe not all night but most of it? They need frequent feeding.”

“I’m going to die, and so are you,” Kaminaga tells her bluntly. She has no idea how Tazaki’s going to handle her shifts at the shelter on top of the new chicks, Kaminaga herself personally cannot function properly without a decent amount of sleep. Then again, Tazaki’s always found a way. Sometimes it’s not through entirely healthy and human ways, but she finds a way. Somehow.

“We are not going to die.”

“That’s what you always say,” Kaminaga grumbles as she strides over to drop a kiss onto Tazaki’s forehead while Tazaki gently sets the chick down next to its siblings, picking up the next one, reaching for the next syringe.

“Shush,” Tazaki murmurs, gently cradling the baby pigeon (Kaminaga calls them naked birds to annoy her), “and go check on Tatsumaki and Kage for me? Please?”

Kaminaga balks at the thought of checking on Tazaki’s two pet pigeons that she’s certain have a stupid grudge against her for no good reason.

“They’re going to poop on me. And bite my toes. And yank out my hair.” She lost at least nine strands of hair last time and she still hasn’t yet managed to scrub out the stain of poo out of her favourite sweater.

Tazaki shoots her an incredulous look.

“They wouldn’t do that. They’re angels.”

“They are not.”

Tazaki is biased and the pigeons are demons waiting for the perfect opportunities to strike.

“We’re going to die,” Tazaki rasps as she rolls out of bed, her alarm for six a.m. signalling her two hour reprieve is over. “I’m going to die.”

“Do they ever stop… Making that atrocious noise?” Kaminaga buries her head under her pillow, biting back a ‘I told you so’ as the pigeons scream for food, a migraine coming up as she realizes she’s going to have to deal with screaming kids with less than four hours of uninterrupted sleep.. “Why pigeons? You couldn’t pick anything else?”

She knows she’s made a mistake when Tazaki pauses, her grin only serving to make her look slightly insane with her tired face and dark eye bags. Maybe she is insane.

Kaminaga herself is already halfway there.

“Well I mean… I could’ve picked the skunks.”

Kaminaga chokes on air.

“What?”

“I’ll keep that in mind when we go for the next round of fosters-”

“KEEP THE PIGEONS!”

II. Summer

“I thought I told you to keep the pigeons,” Kaminaga hisses through the barely cracked open door, warily eyeing the thing in Tazaki’s hands. “That’s a rat.”

“I’ve told you, it’s an opossum,” Tazaki corrects offhandedly, using a dropper to feed the ra-opossum water. “And it’s just dehydrated. It’ll only be a few days.”

“It’s a rodent. I hate rodents.”

“You hate cats more. To think of it, there was a very nice tabby up for fostering too-”

Kaminaga throws the door open, nearly shrieking. She dislikes rodents, but she hates cats even more, thanks to Hatano’s demon cat that has left more than its fair share of scars on her. Both physically and mentally.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Tazaki laughs a bit evilly, cocking an eyebrow and goddamn, she looks hot, hair thrown carelessly into a messy bun, bright (and evil) smile dazzling but-

“I’m allergic! You know I’ll die!” Tazaki looks unconcerned, lifting a shoulder in a careless shrug.

“Psh, don’t be dramatic, that’s Miyoshi’s job. You’ll live.”

“You’re evil.” Kaminaga tries her best to look intimidating, immediately retreating when Tazaki holds the ra-opossum, up, making a move towards her.

Tazaki blows her a kiss, winking.

“I’m magical, you mean.”

Kaminaga can’t argue with that.

III. Fall

“Another… Another rat?”

“If you can’t tell the difference between a rat and squirrel, we need to book you an eye appointment as soon as possible.”

Kaminaga facepalms, taking Tazaki’s bag from her, holding the plastic bag containing Tazaki’s scrubs as far away from herself as possible. God knows what Tazaki’s gotten covered in today.

As she reaches over to ruffle Tazaki’s hair, Tazaki shifts away, ducking her head, shaking it.

“You might want to wait until after I shower, I don’t think I’ve gotten all the dog pee out yet.”

Kaminaga immediately clasps her hand back to her chest, grimacing as the scrubs brush against her pants. She’s burning those pants, she’s heard of the horrors that Tazaki often carries on her scrubs and there’s no way she’s touching clothing contaminated with anyone remotely from the inside of an animal.

“How in the name of God did you get-”

Tazaki’s smile is innocent but holds a sense of foreboding, and Kaminaga immediately cuts off her question because she’s heard more than enough horror stories.

“If you really want to-”

“I don’t. Go shower.”

As Tazaki relaxes, the squirrel (a rodent so it being called a rat isn’t far off) tucked in for the night, Kaminaga tries to braid the mess Tazaki calls her hair. The raven black locks are long and constantly tangled into each other, the knots that Kaminaga encounters enough to give her nightmares.

“Your hair is a disaster.”

Tazaki hums softly, leaning into Kaminaga’s touch, eyes shut.

“You should get a haircut. Or, you know, comb it?”

“No and no.”

“Then let me comb it.”

“Absolutely not.”

When Kaminaga makes a desperate noise, Tazaki bats her hands away from the comb.

“You posses the fineness of a turtle, actually no, that’s an insult to turtles. I will not have you yank out my hair.” Kaminaga makes another undecipherable noise that Tazaki can only interpret as offended.

“Please?” Kaminaga tries again.

“Hands away from the comb, Kaminaga.”

IV. Winter

Winter means sitting in a car at the edge of the woods in freezing cold temperature, praying that frostbite stays away while juggling cups of scalding hot coffee in an attempt to warm frozen fingers.

Kaminaga jumps and screams, nearly spilling the coffee when someone taps the window.

Tazaki snickers tiredly as she slides in, cheeks rosy red, eyes bright with exhaustion, the strands of hair that have managed to escape her hood tipped with frost.

“Fox in a trap,” she murmurs without Kaminaga prompting. “It’s pretty nasty, and it might lose a leg but it should pull through. It’s a fighter.”

Kaminaga shoves a coffee into Tazaki’s hands, starting the car while cranking up the heat. She’s still dying because it’s too cold, too cold and she needs to warm her hands or else someone is going to get into a car accident.

“That’s great but why am I here?” She curses as cold air shoots out of the vents because she forgets that the car needs to warm up first.

“Because I left my car back at the shelter and you love me.”

Kaminaga yelps as Tazaki shoves her hands down the back of her neck, ice cold hands making her squirm. By the time she’s managed to wrestle Tazaki’s hands away, Tazaki’s gloating as she flexes somewhat warmed up fingers again.

“I really wonder about that sometimes,” Kaminaga grumbles.

“You are the worse,” Kaminaga groans, shaking Tazaki weakly. “When did you replace Miyoshi to become the fox?”

Tazaki is holding two pigeons, doing her best to look innocent.

“We are not getting two more. You have seven of them already.” Kaminaga tries to be firm but Tazaki’s puppy look is really getting to her.

“But Kaminaga, Yoshi and Hinoka have been here for months.”

Kaminaga blinks.

Names.

Names.

“No,” she tries again, knowing it’s futile because if Tazaki’s already named them, the pigeons are going to end up at her house within the next week one way or another.

“Please?”

“Only if…” Kaminaga tries to get something out of this hopeless situation. “Only if you cut your hair to a more manageable length.”

Tazaki balks for a second.

“Absolutely not.”

“You can take home the other two pigeons I see hiding in your sleeves,” Kaminaga cajoles, and Tazaki snickers, the two lumps in her sleeves wriggling guiltily.

Tazaki brightens up, seeming to consider while the deal while the two pigeons that she’s been hiding in her sleeves poke their heads out, cooing softly.

She still looks unsure and Kaminaga leans forwards, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Think of the birds, Tazaki.”

A couple of Tazaki’s coworkers walk by, rolling their eyes knowingly and Kaminaga hides a smirk.

She has her weak spots, Tazaki has hers.

“Okay,” Tazaki chirps, nodding her head. “Deal.”

Kaminaga feels like she’s finally gotten a victory, however small.

“I thought. I said. Four. Pigeons. Only.”

Tazaki freezes, five pigeons tumbling from her hands, hair cut up to her chin, looking tame for once, a guilty expression pasted onto her face.

“But Kaminaga,” she starts in a pleading tone. “This one has always been bullied and I couldn’t just leave her.”

“You see her everyday,” Kaminaga deadpans, already knowing the pigeon is staying. What comes in doesn’t go out. A thing she’s learned after a couple hard lessons.

“She’s so small. And cute. She holds my heart in her cute little feet.”

Kaminaga resists the urge to facepalm. “You say that every time,” she shoots back desperately, eyeing the little black pigeon with splashes of white hopping around at her feet. It is kind of pretty. And cute.

“Please?”

Tazaki pulls another puppy face and Kaminaga feels like she’s been suckerpunched because the short hair makes it ten times as effective-

“I suppose, you’ve already signed the adoption papers. And you’ve bought the necessary supplies. And you’ve also spent months bonding with her already,” she sighs defeatedly. Tazaki nods so Kaminaga deflates, running a hand through her hair tiredly.

“Fine. What’s her name?”

Tazaki shakes her head, bending down to scoop the pigeon up, holding it up to Kaminaga’s eye level.

“I was hoping you would name her.” Tazaki sounds hopeful and gleeful, nearly bouncing up and down with excitement.

Kaminaga grins. There’s no way she’s going to let such an opportunity go to waste.

“Then… Tsundere.”

Tazaki chokes on air.

“I ta-”

“No take backs,” Kaminaga teases, ruffling Tazaki’s hair. “I’M JOKING, I’M JOKING!” she quickly amends as Tazaki’s left hand slams into her ribs, delivering a painful jab.

“Another name,” Tazaki demands.

Kaminaga clutches her side, shooting Tazaki a dirty look before looking at the pigeon again.

“Well, you are a very pretty girl, just like the woman who brought you back,” she winks at Tazaki as Tazaki rolls her eyes. “How about… Miyoshi?”

Tazaki chokes again and nearly drops the pigeon.

-

V. Aftermath

Sakuma is shaking with laughter as Miyoshi puffs up, eyes narrowed into slits.

“I am better than a bird.”

“Actually, I think the bird is smarter than you,” Tazaki shoots back, petting pigeon Miyoshi. “Aren’t you,” she coos, and pigeon Miyoshi bobs her head up and down.

“She’s married to the pigeons, not me,” Kaminaga complains, scratching pigeon Miyoshi’s back gently. “She talks with them more than she does with me.”

“Jealous?” Tazaki taunts, placing a kiss on pigeon Miyoshi’s beak.

“Where’s my kiss?” Kaminaga bypasses the question completely, Tazaki ignoring him in favour of placing a kiss on Yoshi’s head. “Tazakiiiiiii.”

Fukumoto and Odagiri look up from where they’re feeding the other pigeons as Hatano and Jitsui struggle to keep a hold of their cat.

“I hope you’re not getting any more birds,” Fukumoto comments offhandedly, eyeing the half empty coop. “These are quite a handful already.”

“We’re not!” Kaminaga announces confidently. “Right, Tazaki?”

Tazaki refuses to look at Kaminaga.

“Right?” Kaminaga presses. “Right???” Her voice gets higher and more desperate as Tazaki shifts, suddenly very interested in pigeon Miyoshi’s feathers.

“Um… Right,” Tazaki answers unconvincingly.

“TAZAKI!”

-

VI. Epilogue

“This. Makes. Thirty. Five. Pigeons.” Kaminaga eyes the gray pigeons Tazaki has in a firm grip, shaking her head resignedly.

Kaminaga doesn’t even bother complaining too much anymore. It’s a cycle that’s bound to happen.

“This one is a little sadist. Takes pleasure hopping onto people’s head to yank out hair. Loves biting until you bleed.”

“I’m calling this one Jitsui.”

[lockwoodlitherland]

DAMIAN & JAMIE

Damian had to be up early most every day; up, washed and in uniform in time to open up the park and tend to its many acres. Not alone of course, Beck had just over 30 employees working during the winter months and ten times that many in summer. Due to the current condition of roads however the majority of staff had had a hard time traveling to their lodges this month so Damian was short-staffed and mostly lonely. The public section of the park was made ever smaller in the winter, at times even closed completely, but that still meant hundreds of acres and odd jobs to do, so the friends he did have were sparsely spread. Today, he was looking forward to clearing one of the parks many walking trails ready for opening in the coming spring months.

Walking into the kitchen Damian struggled into his thick pullover, bumping into the counter as he wrestled with the arms. Regaining sight he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and poured himself some coffee so disgustingly thick and so eye-wateringly strong it'd have him wired for at least the next six hours. Damian made a face after his first glug and filled his thermos with the rest of the gloop. Still groggy, pulling on his boots and finding his keys he made his way out the back, locking the door behind him. He continued to rub his blurry eyes as he jogged down the wooden steps and past the figure heaped in blankets sat on the back porch. Yawning, he started to make his way towards the big shed beside the house, but all of a sudden he stopped, turned, doing a double take.

"Jamie?" With a tired look in his big earthy brown eyes he took a few steps back. She wouldn't listen to him if he told her to go inside. Bowing his head a little he jogged back up the stairs towards her, fiddling with his keys.

"D'you want more blankets?" he asked, watching the keyhole as his big hands fumbled at it.

Jamie heard Damian before she saw him, his heavy footfalls approaching the backdoor. A rush of warmth even brushed her back from the inside of the house but as quick as it came it was gone again. It was mostly the same for Damian every day. He worked hard, exceptionally so, but Jamie could see a definite passion in his eyes for what he did. These forests were part of his home. This park was more than just a public trust site to all of them. Or at least that was what she guessed. So this was why she watched him as he went, ready to call out his name but he'd already turned to face her.

She gave him a tired smile and shook her head. She would find herself dotted around random places in the mornings, her blankets always her companion. It was easier than trying to get back to sleep. For a few moments she just looked at him before turning away and reaching beneath one of the folds of the blankets by her knee. From the fabric she extracted a box and offered it to him.

"I made brownies," She said quietly, her eyebrows knitting as if she was confused by her own words. She hadn't made them specifically for Damian but...well she certainly wasn't going to eat all of them.

"For you to take while you work," She added, as if there were some confusion in her empty statement.

"They're not particularly nutritious but uh," She stopped abruptly and squared her shoulders, finding no more words. "Yeah," Even when she was trying to be normal she was weird.

For the second time that morning Damian had to do a double take as she offered the box up to him. Through the clean sharp scent of the mornings cool air he could smell the sweetness inside. At first he squinted, rubbed the corners of his eyes once more, moving hands away from the half-open door. He didn't quite know how to respond to the offering; the two had been living in a soup of mixed emotions and signals for weeks, but nothing like this, nothing this affectionate. After a brief period of thought, in which he confirmed that he wasn't hearing things and what just happened had in fact happened, Damian took the box without a word. Instead he opened the lid a crack feeling the warmth of the contents on his cheek. Raising a thick eyebrow to her he smiled a little.

"So what, do they have like rat poison in them or something?" he asked, the dimples showing in his cheeks from the smile on his lips. Crouching down beside her chair Damian peeled back the lid and took out two brownies: one he gave to her and the other he took a huge bite out of. Truth be told he wasn't expecting them to be that great, so he was pleasantly surprised when he tasted the thing. When they were younger Lil had always baked with them, and it had become somewhat of a shared passion. So Jamie doing something like this...it meant something to him. Although Damian wasn't quite sure what that was. Nor for a minute did he assume that Jamie had made them with him in mind.

“It’s good.” He said, raising his eyebrows again,  lifting the half eaten brownie as if tipping an imaginary hat to her.

Relief flooded through her when he took her offering. He could easily have scowled and carried on walking but instead she saw some kind of happiness in his eyes. As he approached her she had the good humour to smile at his joke and after taking the offered brownie she chose to add, just as he took a bite "Nope, not rat poison. Cyanide."

There we go Jamie, whacking out the morbid jokes. She watched him for a few moments before she eyed her own brownie and broke a piece off. She recalled how after Lil had brought her here and they'd tried to get her to eat, she'd been eased into watching the woman bake cookies then given the chance to herself. Her heart ached slightly as she put the piece of brownie in her mouth and chewed, eyes downcast and unsure of where to settle.

She hadn't thought Damian would actually come near her. She'd just assumed the 'gift' would be given and he'd leave but his nearness brought warmth, even in the chill air. She couldn't even find words to say to him because she had nothing he'd be interested in even hearing. So she just sat, holding her brownie like a squirrel, a stark contrast to the way he practically devoured his own.

Whilst chewing he smiled, eyes downcast, letting out a puff of air from his nose as a faint laugh. Over the past few months Damian had let his thick hair grow out further and now it was pushed back, flopping over to one side. He'd let his stubble grow back in and it darkly shaded his cheeks. At this point he might not look amiss at an art class of some kind, with his lengthening hair and his woolly jumper. It was certainly a change from the dopey, clean cut eighteen year old Jamie had first met those years ago. After a moment of silence he looked up at her with his big brown eyes that had somehow never lost their light.

"Here," he handed the box back to her, taking a considerable amount of the goods out and wrapping them in a plastic bag he had in his pocket left over from his last lunch "there's not much in, only tins and bread."

Standing he turned to pull his keys out of the heavy wooden door. For a moment he lingered, looking uncertain. Deciding, he stepped towards her, putting a hand on her hair and kissing the top of her head.

"Thanks." he said finally, before patting his pockets to check that he had everything then jogging across the yard towards the shed.

 "Welcome," She replied faintly, eyes widening a little as he kissed the top of her head. Her body was stiff, surprised clearly, but she soon regained composure and watched him leave. Carefully she eyed the brownies in her hands and wrinkled her nose. She wouldn't eat them. Sighing she set them back into the folds of the blanket and stood up, shuffling toward the back door like an animate blanket monster. She was almost relieved when heat washed over her and after shedding the blankets she folded them neatly and put them on the sofa. As usual emptiness radiated back at her along with the sense of misplacement. That would never leave her though, it sat on her shoulder and hissed in her ear where ever she went.

"Water," She said aloud, as if forcing herself to think, before she headed toward the sink. Her gaze rose to the window she'd stared out of so many times and the looming forest looked back, dark and unmoving. Where did she go from here?

[ramblinganthropologist]

DA Halloween 2017 - ‘Til Death Do us Part

(Also, Inkjournal Day 27: A Magic Spell)

For @dahalloween‘s 2017 contest. 

Summary:  Writing letters inside is no fun, particularly when your new boyfriend is outside in the lovely weather. When Kaaras Adaar decides to run away from work for a small break, he gets more than he bargained for. Luckily, he’s fond of squirrels, even if they are dead. Word count: 1882

---

Oh, what a lovely day it was to be stuck inside doing paperwork.

There was enough ink on Kaaras' left hand that he was certain he could get a full hand print if he really wanted to – which he didn't. It was making the anchor glow a strange, purple-green color, and as much fun as it was to look at, he still had three letters to get through before he could give his pen a rest.

“Who is this for again?” He frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose with his clean hand. It was some lord from somewhere in Orlais... or was it a lady from Ferelden? Lately, they all seemed to mash together into one whining hoard that wanted things from him. Keeping names straight was a hellish task, as was neat writing.

It wasn't his fault he was left handed and the ink loved to smudge; it was the damn shem ink.

The page in front of him was half finished, but if he went any further it was bound to smear. While waiting, he should have considered reading other letters, but instead he stood and stretched. Just a little walk couldn't hurt.

Outside, fall was in full swing in Skyhold. Golden leaves littered the ground and crunched underfoot as he walked from the main building with no real destination in particular. A light breeze scattered more to the ground, crimson and orange with just the lightest hint of brown. Being so close to the mountains was perfect for the coloration.

As it was for the piles; off to the side, some of the children had taken to jumping into gathered up bundles of leaves. Kaaras chuckled as he watched and made sure to step aside as one made a particularly long-distance jog. Had he tried that, he might've made a hole in the ground.

Well, maybe not a hole, but a pretty decent dent.

“I wonder what Dorian is up to today.” Color flooded his cheeks, but he kept with his line of thought. If he really wanted to be his boyfriend like they had discovered, he might not mind a little visit to distract him from his work. It might be appreciated even, given what a lovely day it was.

Kaaras would have headed for the library, but a familiar sensation stopped him in his tracks. He had been around the mage long enough to recognize his magic, and it was out in full force near the gardens. In some ways, it reminded the qunari of a cat that was fond of winding its way around someone's ankles: it could be friendly, or it might just break your neck. It all depended on how the user was feeling that day.

He found Dorian near the gardens in a small, closed off area perfect for practice. Just to be safe, he ducked behind a wall to avoid being noticed. With his positioning in place, he was now free to watch the show.

And what a show it was.

Sweat was dripping down the mage's forehead, but he paid it no mind as he swung down his staff towards the ground. Thanks to his choice of outfit for the day, Kaaras got to appreciate Dorian's toned muscles as he worked through whatever spell he had in mind. And oh, he definitely appreciated it as he kept his position behind the wall.

The end of the staff started to glow, and near the man's feet, bones began to rise. Slowly, aided by dark violet energy that swirled like mist, they began to assemble into the skeletal form of what could have been a fox when it was alive. Now, held together by magic, it did a quick run around the yard before stopping under a tree.

“No, go up the tree.” Dorian sounded like a pet owner trying to coax an unruly cat into taking its medicine. The fox was of a similar mind, and stayed firmly on the ground, staring up at its creator with purple lights for eyes. “It's not that hard, I promise.”

It took everything in Kaaras to keep from laughing, including pressing both of his hands over his mouth. Maybe if he had been able to talk, he could have told the mage that the type of fox he was playing with hadn't really been into climbing while alive. Dead, it was just acting on muscle memory.

Well... not muscle memory. There was none of that left. Bone memory, maybe?

Dorian shook his head as he reached down to pat the fox on top of its skull. “Well, at least you're a charming little fellow. I think that will make up for your lack of climbing acumen. You can go back to sleep now.”

When he moved his hand away, the bones slowly crumpled back into a pile on the ground with a light clatter. With a light sigh, he went back to where he had placed a large book and began to thumb through the pages. Thanks to the distance, it was impossible to tell what he was saying.

Maybe practice was over for the day.

Really, he knew he should have been at least a little disturbed by what had gone on. After all, it wasn't an everyday feat to see a pile of bones reassemble itself into what it had been in life. Some people might have considered that perverse even.

Luckily, those people were Andrastian, and he was very much not. In fact, there was something almost strangely charming about how the man tended to his temporary constructs, almost a tenderness to it. It was... sweet, in a weird way.

A very weird way. He would have to get used to that if... whatever they had kept up. He hoped it did, anyway.

At any rate, there was still paperwork waiting for him back inside, and the ink had probably completely dried. Kaaras would have considered turning back, but something  was staring at him. He blinked in surprise as he realized he was face to face with what he guessed might have been a squirrel. It was a guess, of course, because without the flesh or the bushy tail, it could've been a large rat. With just the bones, it could be anything.

It looked at him with glowing violet lights in its empty eye sockets and rubbed its skull with its bony little fingers. Then, it jumped and soon landed on the qunari's shoulder. After a few seconds, it settled in, almost taking a rest there.

In his mind, it could've been cute if not for the fact it was a reanimated dead squirrel skeleton.

“I think it likes you, Kaaras.” Dorian's voice drew his attention – he was waving slightly, an amused grin painted on his face. “Though, I think he'd like it more if you'd stop hiding behind that wall. I assure you I won't bite.”

Well, he had been found out. Still, the qunari chuckled as he stepped out of his hiding space. He brought his new friend along for the ride as he joined the mage in the middle of the yard, stopping only when the squirrel jumped from his shoulder to land at the ground by its master's feet.

Lightly, Dorian prodded Kaaras' cheek with a finger. “Did you skip out on writing letters?”

Before he could ask how, the mage added, “You've got ink on your cheek and chin. Thinking deeply on some matter, are we?”

Now, why would the Inquisitor need to think about anything? This was the easiest job he'd had in years, apart from the whole end of the world, hole in the sky, Andrastian cult fiasco. He should have considered it years ago.

Kaaras chuckled in response as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I'm a little messy when I write.”

Dorian echoed his laughter, the sound causing butterflies to erupt in the qunari's stomach. However, it got even better from that point. From his pocket, the mage drew a clean handkerchief and leaned forward, aiming for the ink spots.

He stopped though, and a frown crossed his features for a brief moment. His hand started to pull back, and briefly he looked to the side. Even the squirrel seemed to shrink down a little, though it was more obvious about it than its master.

Well, he couldn't have that.

“I'm sorry to ask, but could you help me out?” Kaaras flashed a nervous smile. “I'll be here forever if I don't have a way to see where the ink is. Might make it worse and all; probably not a good thing for the Inquisitor to do.”

His words had the intended effect as Dorian popped up like a flower that had just been watered. It probably was all subconscious, but it was still good to see as he finally made the connection between the two of them.

“You're lucky you have me here to help you evade Josephine's wrath. Imagine what she would say if you went into the war room with ink on your face.” He scrubbed a little harder, then added, “Though,if worst came to worst you could always claim it was safe for human contact vitaar.”

Kaaras chuckled at the admittedly weak joke, and leaned into the touch. “Now there's an idea I'm going to have to keep in mind the next time I get something on my face.”

“See? Aren't you glad you have me around?” And then Dorian lowered the cloth. “There, all clean and ready to face the world.”

His hand still lingered on the qunari's cheek, warm despite the chill of fall. Neither moved, focused on the other. Kaaras' hand twitched at his side, perhaps unsure as if to stay there or perhaps travel towards Dorian's shoulders.

A hug wouldn't be inappropriate this early in, would it?

He began to move, but his plans were foiled. The skeletal squirrel had appeared on his shoulder and used the bridge of his arm to jump to its master. There it sat, purple lights glowing in a way he often saw with a certain elf, cheeks stuffed full of stolen chocolate.

Who knew personality transcended species?

The mage shook his head as he looked towards the squirrel. He lowered his hand at last. “That's it, I'm naming you Jackel.”

He then looked towards Kaaras. “I should probably get back to work before this one causes havoc. Besides, don't you have letters to finish?”

There was a teasing lilt to his voice, one that made the qunari's face heat up. Still, he had a point. The fun had to end eventually, and now was as good a time as any. Any longer, and it might grow dark before he wanted to get back to work.

And then, well, the day would be over.

“I'll see you later then?” Kaaras nodded at the squirrel. “Don't do anything your namesake wouldn't do, Jackel.”

And then he was gone, heading back into the main building to finish his letters. Still, he stole one final glance back to Dorian as his cheeks heated up. When it came down to it, the man looked damn good in the fall.

Hopefully, he would be able to avoid work with him more often.

[theartofbeinganerd]

Working on other fics tonight, so here’s another one from my collection of one shots. I wrote this either the day of or the day after 4x12, because hearing about Fitz’s father of course made me think about Fitz as a father - which led to Fitzsimmons talking about babies, obviously. 

And since we’re talking about Fitz’s crappy dad, there are of course brief mentions of child abuse, but nothing explicit.

(Ao3)

-

Jemma could remember with ease the very first time Fitz had mentioned his father to her, all the way back during the summer following their first year at the Academy. Of course she’d wondered about the lack of father whenever Fitz talked about his home life, only ever “Mum” this and “Mum” that, but no matter her issues with decorum, even Jemma had known that that wasn’t something one just bluntly questioned.

Finally, after six months of friendship, it had been June, and Jemma and Fitz had spent hours talking on the phone, much like they did every other day. They both had gotten teased by their respective families for their tightly bound friendship (really, Jemma thought, they should’ve known that what they had went far deeper than friendship), and after several calls up the stairs to hurry up off the phone and that Fitz would still be there tomorrow, her father had finally knocked on the door and reminded her that they needed to get going to her grandparents’ house. It had been Father’s Day, and they’d planned for some time to celebrate with her one living grandfather, her mother’s father.

When Jemma had breezily explained it to Fitz, hurrying to finish the conversation so as not to make them any later, Fitz had gone eerily silent on the other line. She’d prompted him several times, worried that something was wrong, and eventually he’d answered with a simple “oh”. Another pause had followed, and then he’d told her to have fun.

But, even though she’d only known him for six months, she already knew him better than she imagined she knew anyone else. She knew his expressions and his moods and his tones, and she knew that something was paining him, something was tearing at his heart, and she could just tell that it had something to do with his strangely absent father.

So she’d told him softly, gently that he could talk to her if he wanted to, but he didn’t have to, she was always there for him.

There had been a shuddering breath on the other line, then another, and then the floodgates had opened and he’d tearfully spilled the whole story to her.

Jemma had curled up in her bed, pressed up against the wall and with her face buried in her pillow to hide the angry tears, to muffle the broken sobs at Fitz’s long-held, undeserved pain. She’d excused herself from the party at her grandparents’ and instead stayed home, pressing the phone to her ear and listening to every painful admission of inadequacy Fitz had, whispering fiercely to him that none of it was true, balling her hands into painful fists in her sheets as she imagined what she’d say to the man that had torn her new best friend to shreds when he’d been so vulnerable.

When moonlight was peeking through her bedroom windows and she could hear her family returning to the house downstairs, she and Fitz had said their soft goodnights. With a sniffle, he’d thanked her for listening, for being there, and Jemma had made a silent promise to herself at that moment that she would spend every single second she had with Fitz working to make him believe that he was more than enough.

Much to Jemma’s shame, she’d unintentionally broken that promise when she’d left for HYDRA after the pod and Fitz’s coma, and it was something she still struggled with at times, something that still plagued her when she least expected it. But, as Fitz (Fitz, the incredible, unspeakably amazing man that he was) was so fond of reminding her, it was what she’d thought was best at the time, that she’d never intended to hurt him in the way she had, and that she couldn’t have known the effect it would have on him.

Since then, she’d been doing her level best to make up for it, and now that they were together, her words of admiration for him came easier, and truly Jemma had never seen his self-esteem healthier (and it was likely only partially due to their fantastic sex life).

However, with the recent stirring of the pot and reopening of old wounds thanks to Radcliffe, Fitz’s self-esteem had taken a hit, his damnable father’s words coming back to haunt him, if only for a short time. He’d assured her that he was over it, that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, and that he just wanted to move on. But, as they lay side-by-side in their bed, hands held loosely between them as they watched an old episode of Dr. Who turned down low, she could tell it was still on his mind.

When it finally came, it was abrupt, the words spoken with no preface, no warning. “I just can’t imagine someone saying those kinds of things to a little kid, y’know?”

Jemma turned her head to glance at him, resting her cheek on her pillow and finding him with his narrowed gaze focused on the ceiling. “I know,” she murmured, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, stroking her thumb lovingly over his skin. “Neither can I. But he wasn’t a good person, Fitz. He was a horrible man, one who didn’t have the same values, the same decency that you or I have.”

Fitz shook his head absently, letting out a frustrated sigh. “It’s just… I mean, sometimes I try to imagine that there’s some circumstance where maybe it’d make sense but…but I can’t. I would never say that stuff to my kids. Never.”

“I know,” Jemma repeated, her tone earnest as she reached over with her free hand to grip his between both of hers. “Because no matter how horrible your father was to you, you still became the incredible man I see before me, the man our children will be so lucky to have as a father.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond with more than a vague ‘hmm’ that showed he wasn’t really listening to what she was saying, too caught up in his own head. However, then he went rigid, his eyes popping open wide as he turned to stare at her in shock, his mouth falling open in disbelief.

“What?” Jemma asked in concern and a bit of self-consciousness. “It can’t really be that shocking, can it? I mean I know we haven’t talked about it, but…” She trailed off, her anxiety rising the longer he stared blankly at her, as though she’d just started speaking in an entirely foreign language. “Oh dear,” she murmured, her cheeks heating in embarrassment, “I’ve overstepped, haven’t I?”

Wincing at her incredible inability to just talk like a human being, Jemma opened her mouth to begin spouting apologies and pleas for them to forget all about her slip, but before she could get another word out, Fitz pounced.

Her gasp of surprise was muffled against his lips as he eagerly pressed her back into the mattress, his hands gripping at her waist, her hips, her face, her hair, all over her. Her own hands fluttered about, unsure for a moment at the complete one-eighty, but then his teeth tugged at her bottom lip and it dragged a moan from her, her hands finding their rightful place holding the back of his head to make sure he stayed where she wanted him.

The desperately passionate kiss went on for a long moment, and when Fitz parted from her, both of them panting for breath, she couldn’t help her little moan of loss. Fitz dropped his forehead to rest against hers, his eyes dark and intense from pupils blown wide as they stared into hers. “You wanna have my babies?” he asked, his tone filled with awe and his voice low and rough from desire.

Jemma was only human, thank you, and one of her weaknesses in life, she’d found, was Fitz’s accent when it became thicker and rougher around the edges when he was turned on (when she turned him on). As such, a shudder was sent through her body at the pairing of that accent and that question, and she very nearly let her legs fall open with an enthusiastic “hell yes, let’s start now”.

Thankfully, Jemma had managed to hang on to a smidgen of self-control, so she took a deep breath and fought down the hormones and instead cupped Fitz’s beloved face between her hands. She brushed her thumbs over his cheeks, tracing beneath his eyes and over his nose and around his lips as she smiled breathlessly up at him. “Of course,” she murmured sincerely. “There’s no one I’d rather start a family with, Fitz. Are you really that surprised?”

“Well…no. Maybe. Caught off-guard, I guess. You’ve never mentioned it before,” Fitz admitted, his expression becoming a bit more shy and boyish as he shrugged sheepishly, but he was no less attractive to her, no less dear to her.

“I suppose there was never a reason to mention it.” Smiling lovingly up at him, she felt her cheeks growing warm once more as she confessed quietly, “But I’ve thought about it. Perhaps more than I reasonably should.”

Fitz’s eyes fell closed, his head bowing slightly as he was overwhelmed with emotion, and Jemma lifted her head from the mattress to press a kiss to his forehead. After a moment, his voice gravely, he said, “Me too, Jem. God, me too. You have no idea.”

“Good. Then we’re on the same page.” Gently, she lifted Fitz’s head back up so that their gazes were once more locked, and she bit her lip against a ridiculously giddy smile as told him, “We’re in agreement that someday, we’re going to have beautiful, blue-eyed, curly-haired children who will take apart our microwave and build functioning rockets in our garage.”

“Hey now,” Fitz started, a frown tugging at his lips, “why can’t they be gorgeous little brown-eyed, freckled children who bring dead rats and squirrels into the house and dissect them on the kitchen counter?”

“Well I don’t know why you think they’d do that,” Jemma shot back, pressing her lips together to hide her smirk as she insisted, “Any dissections they do will be proper, in a lab, where there shouldn’t be food.”

“Oh not this again,” Fitz groaned with more exasperation than he clearly felt, given the way his eyes were shining. “It was lunchtime, which obviously meant to put away the disgusting cat livers where they belonged, not drop them right on the table next to my sandwich!”

“You know I never eat lunch when I’m on a roll! Why put a groundbreaking discovery off for something as trivial as lunch?”

“Oh, for the love of –” He cut himself off when he leaned down capture her lips once more, kissing away anymore arguments she could’ve made (arguments she’d already made many, many times over the years).

When they parted that time, Jemma let out a soft, breathless laugh. “I like having that fight so much more when it ends like that.”

Fitz grinned a bit guiltily, giving a chuckle as he agreed, “Me too.”

They simply gazed at each other for a moment, nothing needing to be said, but Jemma eventually broke the silence to offer quietly, “Wouldn’t it be even more perfect if they were brown-eyed, curly-haired children who build rockets and dissect squirrels? Or blue-eyed, freckled children who have their mother’s practicality and their father’s warm heart? Some kind of utterly perfect combination of half-you, half-me, as if someone took all of our genes and mixed them up in a bag, picking and choosing until they’re left with the both of us put into the most adorable little packages.”

The look on Fitz’s face just then was one she was now intimately familiar with, one that made her heart clench in her chest and her stomach twist up in delightful knots. It was a look she equated with his love for her personified, made real and tangible and visible in his eyes as they burned into her, as though it was too much for him to contain inside of himself and it had no choice but to spill out of him through his intense gaze. She honestly wasn’t sure how long he’d been directing said look at her without her notice, but she was infinitely glad that he was no longer afraid to let her see just how deeply his love for her ran, because she would never get tired of that look.

“Yeah?” he questioned lowly, his voice nearly breaking on just the one word, and Jemma couldn’t find her own voice, instead nodding in answer, her gaze soft and loving and only for him. “They’ll be perfect. Incredible. The most…the most amazing little kids in the whole damn world.”

Her breath catching in her throat, Jemma shifted her hands back to hold his face between them, tears beginning to build in her eyes and a tiny smile curving her lips as she told him, “See? Not even born yet, not even conceived yet, and you’re already a better father than yours could’ve ever hoped to be. You could never be him, and I hope you know that, Fitz. All I want is for you to see yourself the way I see you. If you could… If you could, you’d never have to wonder about being enough again.”

Fitz let out a shaky breath, and there it was, that look again as he shifted his weight to rest on one arm, lifting the other to stroke the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “I love you,” he whispered hoarsely, “I love you, Jemma. So much.”

“I love you too, Fitz.” She skimmed her hands down his neck and shoulders to his back, gently tugging at him until he lowered his weight to rest fully on top of her, their arms tightening around each other in a tender embrace. She let out a content sigh, her eyes falling closed as she turned her head to press a kiss to his temple.

No matter how many years passed, Fitz’s father was always going to be a dark mark on his past, coming back at the most inopportune times to remind him of all the awful things he’d tried to convince Fitz he was. But, no matter how many years passed, Jemma was always going to be there as well to pull Fitz back from the depths of his dark thoughts, to remind him that he was none of the things his father had called him, that he was good and warm and smart and enough.

And perhaps, maybe, when they someday did have their own family, when they’d left the danger in their pasts and begun a new story in Perthshire with a brood of beautiful children, he’d be able to fully put his father behind him to focus on his new family, the one that loved and appreciated him for who he was and would never dream of leaving him.

Jemma was so content, in fact, that she nearly felt herself drifting toward sleep, when Fitz suddenly shifted slightly, lifting his head to whisper near her ear, “Hey Jemma…d’you wanna start practicing for making those perfect babies?”

Even as she snorted in disbelief at his proposition, Jemma already knew exactly what her response to it was going to be. She was only human, after all.