#his boots are my favorite part they’re just so endearing to me

[lanternlightss]

nameless bard is peak character design

[ramblingguy54]

Sonic & Tails R: A Love Letter To Miles Tails Prower’s Characterization

     Warning: This will contain massive spoilers for the short radio play series of Sonic & Tails R. If you haven’t listened to the radio play yet on Youtube, I’d highly recommend any hardcore Sonic fan who hasn’t seen it check it out. It’s one Hell of a treat.

     For as far back as I can remember in my childhood, Tails’ story of trying to step outta Sonic’s shadow has been such a resonating one for myself. Even when I was a much younger kid playing my Dreamcast, during entries like Sonic Adventure 1 & 2, there was some idea lingering about why Tails just stood out more emotionally in his journey to grow beyond depending on Sonic all the time for help. Now here I am a young adult in my late twenties having such a deeper appreciation of this little two tailed genius kiddo because he’s got an important element that’s made him so beloved for good reason.

     In spite of his genius being a rival to that of Eggman’s high IQ and of course proving to surpass it plenty of times when scenarios boil down to being a high stakes battle, Miles Tails Prower beneath it all is still just like any one of us. We’re all trying to find our place in this world about what defines us for who we are as unique people. He wants to be more than just seen as someone who’s alongside Sonic The Hedgehog’s never say die attitude, but prove he’s plenty capable of standing on his own two feet to protect everything the kid holds dear to himself. Underdog stories, when they’re naturally executed very well, can reel me in so easily. They are very much my bread & butter trope I adore seeing.

     To no one’s surprise, the two Sonic Adventure’s iterations portrayal of Tails’ characterization are hands down some of my favorite writing for the two tailed fox, regarding what the 3D era has done toward him, development wise. It gave him more of an existential struggle to endure like, “What happens when Sonic isn’t around to help stop Eggman? What if I’m not strong enough to accomplish what he can?”, making Tails plight to be seen as an equal all the more endearing when stopping Eggman in his climatic battle against the Egg Walker in Station Square. This here is a great use of a timeless lesson you can apply in life that if you set you heart and mind on anything, there isn’t a thing you can’t accomplish on your own, which is why many fell in love with Sonic Adventure 1 & 2′s writing for Miles Tails Prower’s journey of independence.

     As someone who comes from a large family tree of relatives, I feel the weight of my existence on my shoulders at a number of points more than I’d care to count, admittedly. Seeing Tails struggle with his sense of purpose, in contrast to observing how much Sonic has accomplished with his carefree, yet deeply compassionate attitude, means the world to me in watching another trying to comprehend their value as a whole on how much they matter, overall. This is a big part of why my fondness for SA1 & 2′s quality has never wavered over these years, besides still obviously enjoying most of their game play mechanics. People can try to debate to their heart’s content on whether the Adventure games still hold up in their own eyes, but I’ll always respect them for how they tried to develop certain characters, such as Tails, Gamma, and Shadow The Hedgehog notably, to attempt expanding upon their characters, as well as world building.

     I won’t bother going into a rant about how Sonic’s recent 3D games have butchered Tails’ personality & relatable nature, due to the current writers in charge of handling the cast of characters. More or less, I greatly empathize toward the notion many have already stated about Tails being so cowardly and God forbid, looking at Lost World, downright severely mean spirited. Rather, I’m obviously writing this lengthy post to breakdown why Sonic & Tails R succeeds, where these certain 3D games have greatly faltered in exploring Tails’ emotional dilemmas as an insecure, yet still having the courage to prove himself, talented boy full of hidden potential he doesn’t quite realize, until his back is against the wall in life threatening situations.

“That day, I realized I couldn’t depend on you forever. Not that I can’t depend on you, but like, “What happens when Sonic isn’t here?”, you know?”

     Sonic & Tails R further delves into this fundamental rule of what has defined Tails in Sonic Adventure 1 & 2′s stories of events where Sonic wasn’t there to aid his best bud in taking down Eggman’s evil efforts for global domination, most importantly his fear of defending the Earth without his role model. Besides what I already stated in SA1′s events in Station where he stopped the Egg Walker, as well as the missile Eggman launched from detonating before their climatic battle, Tails watched Sonic blow up in ARK’s capsule presuming him to be dead after Sonic imparted how much faith he has in the kid’s abilities to be truly strong in the face of any foe. Sonic & Tails R manages to use fan service in a way that doesn’t feel like “pandering” for the sake of it, using this past canon material to do more of an in-depth study about Miles’ anxieties of existing without Sonic.

     Wouldn’t put it past them if EmuEmi & crew were using SA2′s Sonic death fake out scene in that space capsule to further add trauma to Tails’ psychological attachment to Sonic, as well as his insecurities of depending on him too much, to boot. While it’s never obviously outright stated in their radio play, I definitely believe they were factoring this element into adding dramatic exploration for why Tails is so self-conscious about the worst case scenario of permanently losing Sonic. Watching Sonic supposedly die put Tails into a deeper state of self-reflection, so I very much enjoyed how they went using these past events to create a thorough exploration about him learning just as it’s important to realize you need to stand up for yourself without using someone else as a crutch all the time, it’s doubly important to remember there’s nothing wrong about asking someone for help when you’re about to be down and out with little options left.

     Sonic & Tails R beautifully builds upon the foundation these two games’ stories left behind years ago, creating new damn great material to explore with the most iconic characters of this cast, Sonic & Tails brotherly dynamic. I’ve been praising Sonic & Tails R out the wazoo for how well it captured Tails underdog story of overcoming death defying odds, but it managed to remind me how simply adorable and outright wonderfully endearing their brotherly chemistry is as a whole. This is a big friendly reminder Sonic isn’t all about being cocky wise cracking character making meta jokes left and right, but he can be plenty capable of showing serious compassion to anyone he values as an ally and friend. This is no greater evident, than with him verbally lifting Tails up in his time of need when he’s self-depreciating his own significance. It can be seen in Episodes 2, 4, and 7 giving Tails motivational pieces of advice.

    Episode 2 In Adabat’s Cavern

-Sonic: Wasn’t it your radar that helped us find these Emerald shards in the first place? How could you be slowing us down when you’ve gotten us this far?

-Tails: But, I...

-Sonic: I could never make something like that. You’re the smartest person I know, Tails. One way or another, we’ll figure this out, count on it.

         Episode 4 In Holoska After Helping Silver Save The Chao

-Sonic: So, what was that back there? At the cave, in Adabat? -Tails: What do you mean? -Sonic: Frozen stiff. Confidence shot. It’s not like you. It was more than feeling like you were “slowing us down”, right?

        Episode 7 Inside The Egg Carrier 3

-Sonic: Let’s split up! I’ll distract them and you can go after the energy source. -Tails: You’re gonna take them on all by yourself!? Let me help, Sonic! -Sonic: No time for this, Tails. Stop overthinking and just go! If I can get their attention, I’ll take the heat off of you and that room you’re going to probably won’t have any security. Take this emerald and I’ll take the other one we have. It’ll lead me right to you after I beat these guys. -Tails: O-Okay... -Sonic: Hold on, Tails! Listen to me. Don’t stop moving and be careful. I’ll be fine and so will you!

     Sonic & Tails R remembers the most crucial detail of their important relationship. One isn’t better than the other and needing to always rely upon that notion for helping one outta a jam, but instead showcases how they’re equals as a team/bros. Sonic may be super fast and strong, however Tails has his intelligence to analyze situations in a different angle Sonic wouldn’t necessarily consider, per say. Which isn’t to say Tails couldn’t put up a fight either, as we’ve seen in SA1 & SA2′s stories where he faced Eggman one on one with no outside help to best him at his own game of wits & strength.

     We get see the apex of this idea through Tails facing Eggman in his super improved mecha walker. Although Tails may get thrown for a loop here at first by Eggman, it’s his villainous speech about winners and losers in their world that ironically does the exact opposite of what he intended. Eggman wanted to crush Tails’ sense of self worth before finishing him off, but all it did was reignite the very lesson Sonic told him earlier before running to distract Eggman’s robotic minions. That said lesson of he’s more than capable of facing dangerous threats

-Eggman: Poor boy. We all have to learn this lesson, sooner or later. In every game there’s no one you can depend on. You’re all alone and you’re either a winner, or a loser. And as you know, loser’s lose all of their lives. Say goodbye, fox!

-Tails: You’re wrong! I can depend Sonic! I won’t let him down! I can’t because...Because he’s depending on me! And because of that I won’t lose to you!

     This radio play strikes a good balance in utilizing the grey moral area about depending on someone vs it being an unhealthy display of attachment derived from serious insecurity. Word’s can’t begin to describe how much I loved this moment to pieces because it’s oh so important for writing Tails’ characterization. If you’re going to tackle him being super self conscious about his reliance on Sonic, then you gotta remember why they are so close to one another to begin with. Sonic & Tails have an unbreakable connection, considering they’ve brought out their best qualities in themselves from being together as individuals. For Sonic, it’s his older brother compassion to Tails to bring him outta feeling melancholy. For Tails, the kid finally understands there isn’t anything wrong with depending on Sonic when he needs it most.

     After all, that’s what a real healthy friendship is all about. Whether you’re giving someone a dose of tough love, or simply a piece of motivational advice, it defines how much you truly care about someone, period. Sonic & Tails have this very same power from their bond, which is why new emeralds form from their compassionate friendship that hasn’t been shaken after all the years they’ve been together. Another detail worth noting is it adds to the lore in an impactful manner when Tikal expresses in Episode 8 about positive connections and thoughts from users of the Chaos Emeralds having a strong will & heart. Using the ideas they had for encapsulating Sonic & Tails’ dynamic to create new emeralds from their love for each other as brothers adds an emotional weight.

“So, Sonic’s not the only one who harness the power of the Chaos Emeralds? I can too!?”

“Yes, you have a strong heart! There is a power waiting to be unlocked within you, as well.”

          I’d always daydreamed about in my childhood seeing Super Sonic & Tails take down a threatening villain, whether it was Eggman or different powerful creature such as Chaos or the Biolizard. You can imagine how fucking giddy I was beyond belief to see this artwork of Episode 9′s cover for the radio play. Tails not only got to have another one on one with Eggman, but a team up with Super Sonic in his own respective Super form? Sign me the Hell up! Talk about an all you eat buffet of good writing for Tails’ journey reaching its climax. Getting to hear this play out, alongside the amazing song of Fly With Me, made it authentically feel like something straight outta if there were an installment of Sonic Adventure 3 being brought into reality, which certainly feels like it now.

     Episode 9 has so much awesome stuff with Sonic & Tails working together in their super forms. Particularly, my favorite scene is at the beginning when Sonic teaches Tails how to navigate his newly acquired speed in his respective Super form. My heart melted hearing Sonic help Tails through it all, while he was overjoyed about how fun this new form is for himself. Wholesome Sonic & Tails content is the perfect daily serotonin for me, easily. It’s an awesome fun fact to know they used a scrapped boss from Tails Tornado segment in SA1 for Eggman’s flying dragon three headed robot in their big final battle, once again using old canon material in a very effective manner to boost the quality of their fan made story.

     It’s been a real thrill to hear Mike Pollock play a straight forward serious Eggman making my day in more ways than one, considering that’s another thing I’ve been yearning for desperately besides Tails being a competent character again. His performance in Episode 9 when Eggman gave that speech about how long he’s been at odds with Sonic & Tails stubborn will power was simply excellent. The moment he told his mechanical dragon to crush them I got serious chills. That’s the Eggman I remember and grew up with. He could be a hammy villain sure, but Eggman wasn’t a doormat that could be swiftly beaten. Robotnik can be considered a serious threat in his own right and this radio play nailed it down to the very letter with how much he predicted their actions.

“Sonic, all I ever wanted to do was be like you. You’re not scared of anyone or anything. I could never be like that. At least, so I thought. I grew from that, but then I got so caught up in trying to prove it that thought it wasn’t okay to depend upon anyone, especially you. I just didn’t want to be that scared little kid in Station Square anymore, but now I understand. It’s okay to depend on your friends. It all means is that we’re stronger together, so the next time Eggman comes back and wants to start any trouble with you, or any of my friends. Emeralds or no emeralds, he’s gonna have to get past me and he won’t!”

Sonic By Episode 1′s End: Aww, yeah! Adventure, here we come!

Tails By Episode 10′s End: Aww, yeah! Adventure, here I come!

Turn your thoughts into power. Be all that you can be.

     The ending legit got me choked up because what of they decided to do for wrapping up Tails journey in a poetic fashion. Having Tails go off on his own separate journey to grow more independence pulled on my heart strings perfectly. Very much so, as I’m transitioning slowly, but surely, into gaining more freedom to go out into the outside world in my own life. Concluding the story, by Sonic & Tails holding onto the two Emeralds their bond had formed from positive energy, due to their powerful friendship, was so heartwarming. This is how you write an overview of what makes Sonic & Tails chemistry work so well as it does.

     Sonic & Tails R’s ending represents while some things never change, like Sonic and Tails bond for each other, it also shows there’s very much a necessity for people to grow, hence Tails’ whole solo journey in the epilogue. People can’t stay in the same place forever and will need go about finding their own path, even if it means saying “goodbye” periodically for a notable amount of time.

     It’s for these reasons I’ve listed in great explanation above throughout this detailed post cement Sonic & Tails R high on my list of favorite Sonic fan projects. They captured the magic of what made the Adventure games so beloved. Gonna be looking back on this passion project for many years to come. Everyone involved in this year long effort of a project dating all the way back Summer of 2020 ought to be immensely proud for how much their hard efforts paid off in the long run.

Thanks for taking the time to read my thoughts here! 

Hope you enjoyed. 

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael in the Mainstream: Hawkeye

The Disney+ Marvel shows have been really hit or miss for me. Falcon and the Winter Soldier was great until the end, when it tripped over itself and kind of sullied the experience a bit, while Loki was just so boring I didn’t even bother watching the finale. It’s a shame because Loki and Falcon are two really cool characters in the MCU, so the fact their shows stumbled and floundered for me is a bit disappointing. On the other hand, we have WandaVision, a show about two characters who have been incredibly disappointing in the films despite being some of my favorite comic characters… and that show made me absolutely love them and become invested in their story. So apparently the secret to making a good Disney+ MCU show is to make it on an extremely crappy character from the films, because I’m happy to say that Hawkeye, the show centered on the lamest Avenger, is actually really awesome.

For over ten years now, Hawkeye has kind of been in the background, getting very little focus or character development. The most he ever got was in Endgame, but so much of the intriguing elements like the whole Ronin thing were pushed to the side for the time heist and the Thanos battle. Jeremy Renner has basically been wasted. Here, though? He really showcases that maybe they should have let him have more focus all along. The man can really act when given the chance, and manages to sell the exhausted badass angle of the character just as well as the PTSD-stricken soldier still mourning his lost friend. Then we throw Hailee Steinfeld’s Kate Bishop into the mix. Kate is such a wonderfully dorky and endearing character, someone who idolizes Hawkeye. Through her POV, we really do get to see that Hawkeye is just as cool as the showrunners want us to believe, and Kate herself manages to be cool as well. The two develop some really good chemistry together over the course of the six episodes, and really end up feeling like friends and partners by the end of it all. It’s a really good and fun dynamic.

While this is still  definitely an MCU story with bits of interconnectivity sprinkled in liberally, it’s actually kind of refreshing how this show really bucks a lot of old trends. This isn’t some big, epic mission to save the world or the multiverse or anything; this is Clint Barton getting tangled up in a small-scale conflict he had a part in causing and deciding to clean up his mess with Kate in tow. There’s some pretty good fight choreography and some fun trick arrows, and there’s a really awesome car chase, but for the MCU things stay relatively minor in the grand scheme of things. Clint’s definitely having a better Christmas than Spider-Man, that’s for sure.

With the action and story being better than your typical MCU fare, it’s also surprising how much better the comedy is too. A lot of the stuff is less egregious and more charming, like Clint being forced to LARP or the hilariously cheesy Captain America musical. Florence Pugh shows up as Yelena Belova about halfway through the show, and in between some more dramatic moments her every interaction with Kate is just awkwardly hilarious, a highlight being her casual macaroni dinner conversation with Kate. The comedy obviously won’t be for everyone, but there’s a lot more comedy driven by the characters and what they’re doing as opposed to an onslaught of quips and one-liners.

If I do have a problem with the show, it is how they portray ASL. Now, I’m very happy Clint has his hearing aid now, and I’m happy Echo is in the show and is deaf (and played by a deaf actress to boot!); I’m also very happy that Echo’s uncle, a certain criminal known for being very large and huge, also uses sign language to speak to her, showing that he does value and care for her as more than just a minion in a nice humanizing moment. The inclusivity is honestly great! Except for one problem, a problem that was pointed out to me by @proxypunch​ and which I was never able to unsee after having it pointed out: all of the sign language scenes are filmed more like the characters are talking to each other, and so half of the time the character’s hands are cut off so you can’t really see what they’re doing. Sure, there are sometimes subtitles and the characters usually have someone speaking what is being signed, but it kind of feels a bit half-assed and lazy. I’m not of the mind that it ruins the show completely or anything, but it’s definitely very frustrating and hopefully something that is rectified for Echo’s spinoff series and any future seasons of Hawkeye.

Overall, I’d say Hawkeye is one of the stronger entries in the MCU overall,and a genuinely fun and engaging Christmas action story with fun character dynamics. Do I think it’s better than WandaVision? Maybe. It certainly is more consistent, and it doesn’t have an egregious CGI final battle. On the other hand, I just really connected to Wanda and her struggles more, so that show is still #1 in my heart, with this at a close second. If you want to see Hawkeye finally get his due, really love Hailee Steinfeld and Florence Pugh (as everyone should), area fan of Daredevil and have always wanted it to be canon to the MCU, or just want a fun action show to watch, this is a pretty solid pick.

Now to really redeem crappy characters they need to give us a sitcom starring Malekith and the dark elves.

[luminouspoes]

After Poe being tortured by Kylo Ren in TFA, he would have some kind of PTSD.... So I was thinking can you write about Poe having nightmares about that, and the reader comforting him? Just pure fluff

Warnings: some references to Poe’s torture/nightmares & PTSD 

It’s well past midnight when you shuffle into the shipyard, a sweater tucked around you and a toolkit hung around your hips. You couldn’t sleep, so you figure it would be a good time to get ahead on some of the repairs you needed to do tomorrow, which included some minor repairs on Poe’s newest ship.

He hadn’t crashed it or gotten it blown up yet, which you supposed was an improvement, the most damage his X-Wing sustained in his last mission was some blown fuses and carbon scoring. 

You’re surprised to already find a technician’s ladder rolled up against the hull of the ship when you arrive. You glance around, but find that the Resistance base is surprisingly quiet, save the sounds of wildlife emitting from Ajan Kloss’ jungles. You step up on the ladder and clamber up to the top, where you find Poe Dameron asleep in the cockpit.

His head is tilted back against the headrest like he fell asleep looking up at the stars - which he probably did - and while the sight is certainly endearing, he doesn’t seem to be sleeping well. His expression is screwed up and he’s fidgeting in his seat quite a bit. Worried, you rap your knuckles against the closed window to get his attention. It works - a little too well because Poe jolts upright abruptly and slams his head into the roof.

You wince apologetically as his eyes fall on you. His eyes soften around the corners, and he presses the switch to unlock the ship’s canopy as he runs a hand over his sore head. You push up on the canopy so you can rest your arms just on the edge, then you lean forward. “You’ve got to stop falling asleep out here, Dameron.”

“Well, at least I sleep,” Poe says defensively. “I’m not sure that you do, as many times as you keep finding me out here.”

“Insomnia is my best friend,” you retort wryly, stepping down the rungs when Poe goes to stand up. You hop down instead of taking the last couple of steps, then steady the ladder as Poe steps onto it. Instead of doing the civilized thing and walking down, Poe just grips the handlebars and slides down till his feet land on the soft grass beside you. 

“Which I’m sure has nothing to do with the amount of caf you inhale.”

You skirt around his crack about your caf addiction. “So what’s your excuse for sleeping in this thing and not - oh, I don’t know - your quarters?”

He doesn’t meet your gaze, instead, his dark brown eyes sweep back up to the canopy of stars above. “The stars calm me down.”

You sidle up closer to him, following his gaze. There are thousands of glittering stars, too many to take in all at once. You’re tempted to point out a few systems you think you recognize, but you remain quiet because looking up makes everything on the ground fall to the wayside, and you kind of want to embrace that.

“You’re still having nightmares?” You finally ask, sliding your gaze from the sky to the star standing beside you. There really is no other way to describe Poe, in your mind. He’s a bright light in the middle of all this darkness, with an irresistible gravitational pull that brings people together. 

“Yeah.” He admits, voice rough. His content expression slips to a pained one. “They were starting to go away, I don’t get why they’re so much worse recently.”

You step around in front of him, taking his face in your hands. “Trauma’s not a straight line, anything could have triggered them. A recent mission, the way someone phrased something, general anxiety -” you brush your thumb along his cheekbone where you can just barely make out the faint outline of a scar - “Which there’s plenty of, anymore.”

Poe hums in acknowledgment, catching your wrist and bringing your hands down. He doesn’t let go though, instead, he pinches the fabric of the sweater as he thinks. “Outta all the things I’ve seen, I can’t believe I let that brute get to me most of all.”

You shake your head. “Nope, we’re not doing that.” You press a kiss to his nose, which he scrunches his face up at, ticklish. “You didn’t let him do anything, that’s not how this works.”

“How does this work, then?” Poe asks, sounding both genuinely curious and frustrated.

“It works by you not blaming yourself for your trauma.” You reply with ease. “You’re already doing well.”

“How so, doc?”

You tip backward and make a sweeping gesture towards the sky. “You found something to calm yourself down, enough to sleep by.”

“Not very well,” Poe admits as he rubs the back of his neck. “I was having another nightmare when you showed up, and besides...falling asleep in an X-Wing isn’t the most reliable way to catch up on sleep.”

You look down sheepishly, trying to muster up the courage to say what you're thinking. “You could, um, stay with me. If you want.” There's a leaf just by the toe of your boot with a fascinating set of bright orange veins that pop against the dull yellow of the leaf, so you stare at it as your question is met with a beat of silence.

“In your quarters?”

“No, in the X-Wing.” You retort sardonically. You fix Poe with a well, duh expression. “Yes, my quarters. I don't sleep well at night anyway, so you could...lay down and if I notice anything bothering you, I can wake you up.”

You entirely expect him to decline, but instead, he asks, “You wouldn't mind?”

“You're my friend, of course, I wouldn't mind.” You reply, cheeks warming. “Besides the Resistance needs its favorite commander well-rested.” 

“Are you sure it's the Resistance's favorite commander and not yours?” Poe asks with a tiny smile, and you swat at his arm. He dodges easily, catching your hand again, but this time he tugs you forward. You stumble against him, one hand landing on his chest as he looks down at you with a soft expression. 

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a warm embrace, his chin resting on the crown of your head. Despite your hammering heart, you melt instantly against him. Few people gave hugs like Poe Dameron did.

“Thank you.” He murmurs faintly as he moves his head to press a kiss to your hairline. 

“Always.” You say when he draws back. You extend your hand to him, wiggling your fingers slightly. Poe chuckles, takes your hand, and you lead him back to your quarters. 

You don't pass anyone on the way there, which is fine by you and by Poe too, you're sure, but by the time you're stepping into your room with Poe hanging sheepishly behind your heels, a wave of exhaustion has hit you. Still, you're true to your word, so you motion at the mattress. “Have at it,” you tell him as you move toward your desk. 

Poe doesn't even pull down the duvet, just toes off his shoes and sits gingerly on the edge of the bed like he's afraid he'll break it. “You sure about this? I don't like the idea of you staying up all night to make sure I sleep. Where'd we be if one of Rose's best techs were falling asleep on the job cos of me?”

“I told you, I'm not even tired -” you hide a yawn behind your hand and cough, but Poe's eyebrow shoots upward so you know you've been caught - “I mean, I'm tired, but not enough to sleep.”

Poe leans forward off the bed, grabbing you by the sleeve of your sweater, and gently tugs you forward. You could hold your ground if you want, but you shuffle forward anyway, a tiny smile tugging at your lips. 

“You need your rest too, you know. I can always sleep on the floor or go back to my quarters.” 

��You're not sleeping on my floor.” You scoff, “And I think we've already established that you’re having trouble sleeping in your quarters.”

“The X-Wing is always available.” 

“Or we could just share the bed.” You don't mean to say it aloud - you don't think - but it slips out anyway. Part of you flounders, but it's overridden by your concern for his screwed up sleep schedule, so you continue on, “It's not like we haven't fallen asleep together before.”

Those times were different and you know it - falling asleep huddled together over datapads in the corner of the debriefing room was totally different than dozing off in the same bed.

Poe stands up and you start to think he’s going to leave, but instead, he gestures at the bed. “Pick your side.”

“Really?” You ask, moving to your favored side, closest to the wall. Unlike Poe, you yank the duvet down and snuggle in before patting the space next to you. He climbs on just as warily as before, feet kicked over the blanket.

“I figured there was a 50/50 shot of me finding you asleep outside my door if I tried to leave,” Poe says with a light smile and you whack him with one of the bed pillows. He isn’t wrong, you’re well-known around the base for your dedication to looking out for your friends, and that sounds...exactly like what you were planning to do if he wasn’t going to stick around.

He settles on the bed beside you, a low sigh escaping his lips as he stares up at the ceiling. You twist onto your side, propping your head up with your elbow. “Poe?”

He hums in response, not immediately taking his eyes off the ceiling. 

“It’s okay to be afraid, you know.” 

He turns his head to look down at you softly. “I know, I just...wish I wasn’t.”

You seek out his hand in the dark. As soon as you find it, you thread your fingers together. You wish none of this happened, it makes you angry when you think about it. “No one wants to be afraid, but it’s okay. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

“Everyone’s counting on me. Leia’s counting on me.” 

“You really think the General doesn’t have nightmares either?” You counter. His gaze flicks back up to meet yours. You shift again, scooting a little closer. “Rey’s mentioned having nightmares, so has Finn. Even Jess has them, you know that better than anyone. People are all counting on them, so what makes you so different?”

“I just...don’t wanna let her down.” He’s talking about Leia, you realize.

You shake your head. “Poe Dameron, that’s impossible. No one understands the General quite like you do.” You bump your knee against his side, “I’m pretty sure no one understands you quite like the General does.”

“I don’t know about that.” Poe chuckles and looks back up at the ceiling. “There’s this person who always seems to know what I’m thinking.”

“Oh? What are they like, then, have I met them?”

“Probably. They’re a technician. One of Rose’s best, actually. Chewed me up one side and down the other for strapping experimental tech onto Black One before it got destroyed. Usually drags me to bed when they find me out cold in an X-Wing.”

Your cheeks warm. “They sound like a handful.”

“They are,” Poe agrees and you resist the urge to swat him with a pillow. “Stubborn like you wouldn’t believe, strong sense of justice, has an even bigger heart and will do anything for the people they care about. They’re a damn good friend - even if they keep their room below freezing -” he emphasizes this last part by finally ducking under the blankets and you bark out a laugh.

“It’s not that cold.” 

“Oh, yes it is,” Poe argues with a shiver. You roll your eyes and settle back into your pillow as he settles on his side, his back to you.

After a long moment of silence, you say, “Hey, Poe?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a damn good friend, too.”

You’re met with a sheepish laugh, and you cautiously throw an arm around his torso. He doesn’t react for a minute, but just as you’re about to pull away, he wraps his hand around yours and pulls it up to his chest. You smile and awkwardly move closer, burying your face in between his shoulder blades.

It doesn’t take long for his breathing to even out, but you stay up for a while longer to make sure he’s in a steady sleep, but for the first time all evening, he seems relaxed and peaceful, so you close your eyes and murmur against his shirt, “G’night, flyboy.” 

[oh-boy-me]

Casual Outfits Discussed

@themarchinghare Ok >:3c

These hot takes analyses and opinions are based entirely on the concept art of the demon brothers’ casual outfits.  So any in-game features not present in the concept art aren’t discussed.  We’re looking at the outfit as a whole, but occasionally we do talk about individual features.

Also please don’t take this seriously, we just had a lot of fun shitting on the Seven Power Avatars of Sin, Rulers of Hell Itself™’s questionable fashion sense.  I would still die for these boys, terrible taste in shoes or not.

Participants in the discussion were

Jo ( @jodaneko ), my roommate and an art major with storyboarding and character design experience

Justin ( @justinlester0629​ ), my go-to fashion expert for at least a decade and very possibly a future male model

Noodle (Me), untrained eye and resident fashion decade disregarder

With the exception of a few choice quotes, our thoughts and conclusions are all mixed in with each other.  Quotes are mildly paraphrased.

Lucifer:

The colors are good; the blacks and grays are all in the blue-gray family, and there’s a pop of color with the gold belt and red vest.

But he paired a black suit with brown shoes????  SIN

“You should always match your belt with your shoes and those shoes are not gold.” —Justin

Justin on the coat: “I love it, the pattern of the inner lining is throwing me off but it’s not bad, and the fur is perfect because it’s associated with power.”

Me on the coat: “I don’t know about you but I bet that coat looks dumb as shit if you put your sleeves through it.”

WITHOUT the coat though his cuffs scream “I am dealing for blackjack and rolling craps.”  Lucifer looks like he could walk into and out of a casino whenever he pleases and everyone would assume he works there.

“Dress shirts don’t work like that.  He got a size too big.” —Jo

The belt isn’t doing anything functionally, but it’s very important because it balances things out from being too top-heavy.

Out of the belt, shirt cuffs, and coat cuffs, two of them should have matched.

We’re nitpicking because in general it’s a good design.  Lucifer has no taste in shoes but that aside is capable of dressing himself.

Mammon:

“That’s western Danny Phantom if I’ve ever seen it.” —Justin

Very nice coat 10/10 would wear.

The colors are odd, he mixes black and brown too, but the other colors mixed in makes it work in a cute way.

“The only things that clash are the shirt and jeans, he could replace the gray shirt with either a black one or a lighter one to match the boots.” —Justin

He’s got a cat toy on his belt.  I admire his preparedness for feline encounters.

The cat toy also balances out his rings nicely, since the toy is on his left hip and the rings are on his right hand.

The yellows in the shades, belt, and cat toy are placed very nicely and are the best part of the outfit.

Honestly except for the shirt color and the fact that fur-lined boots are out of style we don’t have much bad to say about his design.  Mammon’s casual outfit lives up to his model career.

Leviathan:

“Ugh, god.” —Justin

The headphones don’t match with anything, and ever color he’s wearing is so bright they REALLY don’t match.

Headphones aside he chose ok colors to supersaturate, but also like, supersaturation is very very loud.

It kind of looks like he bought two different tracksuits and forgot they were two different outfits.

The pants don’t match themselves.

“He color coordinated his pant cuffs and his shirt and thinks it makes it ok.” —Jo

The jacket itself is nice, the pins are really good and I appreciate that they’re opposite the stripes in his shirt.

Justin hates the gray stripe though because it looks like either part of the jacket or a girl scout sash.

“That shirt should not be collared.” —Jo

“The shoes look like what Kanye West would design but if they were sold on Wish.” —Justin

It’s kind of just… he took the RGB color wheel and went with it.  It’s just loud.  If he just changed some colors he’d be fine.  Leviathan please I have hope for you.

Satan:

“He looks like a gay prep school person.” —Justin

Satan wore 100 shades of green and said “yes this is peak fashion.”  And you know what, it objectively sucks but I’m kind of living for it?

Rip off jeans that can’t actually be ripped off because of the VERY stylish belt?  Iconic.

Green deep v-neck sweater over a gradient t-shirt and a jacket with the sleeves too short, this man only shops at Goodwill.

The one-shoulder jacket look gives the outfit some personality and I’m really glad he isn’t wearing it properly because looking at it alone I wouldn’t be caught dead in that jacket.

“While good for the design, it’s a mix between business and athletic and I’m not sure how I feel about that.” —Jo

(Jo also said some jackets are designed with sleeves like that but with the color choices it’s just… not good.  Justin pointed out that the sweater and jacket do match though.)

The chocolate loafer-style shoes take away from the rest of the outfit.

“Any other shade of green besides Crayola green would have been better for his nails.” —Justin

Listen it’s so bad it’s good, Satan’s fashion sense is “blue-green.”  We basically ripped into it the whole time but I’m pretty sure it was the universal favorite.

Asmodeus:

“Just from the back he looks like a cool dude and then the front of him screams douche.” —Jo

Asmo’s outfit is actually ok, but he has one fatal flaw: If he takes off his jacket it’s way too plain, but with the jacket it’s kind of too much.

It’s also kind of confusing, because it looks both casual and formal from different angles.  “I’m not sure I like the cut in the front with the t-shirt showing underneath.” —Justin

The shirt is nice but a color that contrasted his skin more would have been nice.

The pants are killer, and the white stitching matches the jacket really well.

The gold accents on the jacket are also good and would match the belt really nicely if the belt wasn’t some ugly mustard color.

This boy is wearing mustard belt and ketchup pants.

Inoffensive shoes which is really the best I can ask for with these boys.

“The scarf.  I like it, but I’m not sure how I feel about it because there’s just so much going on with both it and the jacket.” —Justin

“That’s not a scarf, it’s too long.  It’s like.  A really long strip of cloth.” —Jo

Anyway all in all there’s a little much going on in the front but it’s one of the better looks, good job Asmo.

Beelzebub:

Justin looked at the picture and immediately put his phone down.

“First impression is he looks like Naruto if he got his head lodged in Doritos.” —Justin

“He looks like he’s the carpet of the arcade portion of a skating rink.” —Jo

“He shouldn’t be wearing orange tones.” —Justin

Legitimately we were at a loss for words for a considerable time.  We just kept staring at it.

To start he’s got a lot going on but it feels like he looked in the mirror before leaving his room.  Not saying he did the best job but at least he looked at himself.

The jacket alone is great, but why is it fur-lined?  It throws off the urban design.

But finally some good fucking shirt.  We have mixed opinions on the triangles (I like them, Justin doesn’t but appreciates that the pattern continues on the back) but all like the cut.

Living for the necklace-bracelet combo.

Jo says the biggest problem is that there’s color-matching but in weird places and not enough of it.

Jo hates the pink belt and Justin hates the green suspenders; we concluded that one of them should have been excluded.

His choice in sneakers is not as bad as Levi’s but still not very good.  The laces shouldn’t be green.

This sounds like a lot of complaining but if he cleaned up the belts and ditched the fur it’d be a fine look.

Belphegor:

“Oh shit oh god.” —Justin

“The top half is for sleeping and the bottom half is for riding.” —Jo

Absolutely disgusting, mustard yellow pants tucked into brown lace-up combat boots?  Disgusting.

The shoes alone are nice but the mustard pants don’t work at all.  There’s no cutoff between blue and mustard.

Also he has really broad shoulders, just noticed that looking at this.  That has nothing to do with this but it does affect how his cardigan sits on him.

I personally would wear that cardigan, a hooded cardigan?  Everything I’ve ever wanted.

Justin pointed out that the button lining is weird, and the inside is a weird contrast with the pocket.  He’s right, but I think it’s an endearing mess.

Why do I look at him and feel like he needs to do laundry?  I think it’s the t-shirt.  It would have been better as a collared shirt, taking the hood off the cardigan in return.

You can’t convince me the avatar of sloth laces those boots every day, he sleeps with his shoes on and that’s a worse sin than sloth.

“The pillow’s not part of the outfit?  Oh thank god.” —Justin

Jo said we were being too mean and that it’s not the worst outfit out there, and from the waist up they’re right.

But damn Belphegor the condiment war called and they want the bottom half of their uniform back.

[sailtoafarawayland]

Entwined: Family Outtakes Ch. 1

Summary: A collection of family-centered outtakes from the Entwined series. Enjoy some touching moments as we get a peek into the lives of Emma, Killian, Hook, and their three children as they grow and find their stride as a family in the peaceful town of Storybrooke. 

Rating: G - T (to be safe)

AO3 - FF

Some SwanRook fluff and happiness inspired by and dedicated to @teamhook 

Chapter One: All The Small Moments

“Hey, hey!” Emma called, coffee mug sloshing to the counter as she darted across the kitchen after the two kids barreling through the front door, snatching the two brown bags waiting on the tabletop. “Don't forget your lunches!”

“Oh – ” Henry spun around first, a distracted look on his face as hopped back up the stairs, his gaze lingering on the screen of his phone as he took the bag she waved back and forth in front of him. “Thanks, mom.”

“Sure thing, kid,” Emma smiled, wanting to reach out and ruffle his hair as she'd done so many times before, but at  fourteen, it was gesture he didn't find nearly as endearing as he used to.

Alice strolled back to the house at a more sedate pace – for being a year younger than Henry, she was always a bit more restrained, and Emma couldn't help but wonder if it was still her uncertainty in this new realm, or just all the space that she wasn't quite used to having. Both thoughts made her chest tighten. Emma offered the paper bag with a smile, relieved when Alice returned it with one of her own.

It was more reserved then the beaming, open grins that she gave her Papa, and not quite as free as the ones she shared with Killian –  especially when he did something silly to make her laugh – but it was a smile all the same, and Emma counted each one as another victory against the witch who'd left her daughter to be imprisoned in a tower.  

“Thanks, Emma,” Alice murmured, her smile widening just enough that it finally reached her eyes before she turned and hurried after Henry, her son already holding out his phone to show her whatever was catching his attention as they shared the walk to school.

Emma tugged her cardigan more snugly around her waist and headed back into the house, her own smile lingering as she mopped coffee from the counter and thought about picking up bear claws to bring into the station – Killian's sweet tooth wasn't as bad as hers, but even he'd picked up her habit of enjoying pastries in the morning, though Hook still mostly turned up his nose at the sugary confections.  

/

The house was quiet, Hook and Killian down at the docks helping Leroy get his boat into the dry dock and prepared for winter storage, and Emma could only just hear the sound of Henry's video games filtering through his closed door from upstairs. Alice was probably reading or painting in her own room, and for the first time in what had been a hectic week at the station, she found herself able to take a long breath and relax.

The chill outside was just bitter enough that it made its way into the house through the old windows, and she found herself boiling water for hot cocoa, humming something softly to herself as she found her favorite mug – most likely a tune she'd picked up from one of her boys – and got out the whipped cream and cinnamon.

“What are you doing?”

Emma jumped, grateful it was only the whipped cream that fell to the floor and not a mug of hot cocoa, a smile pulling at her cheeks as she tucked her hair behind her ears and bent to pick it up.

“Sorry,” Alice muttered, shifting from the balls of her feet to her toes as she took in the whipped cream and cup. “Are you making hot cocoa?”

“Yup,” Emma grinned, “it's the perfect day for it – you know what else it's the perfect day for?”

“What?” Alice took a few more steps into the kitchen, casting her gaze around the room to see if she'd missed anything else.

“Cookies!” Emma sang triumphantly, reaching back into the fridge and pulling out a canister of the ready-to-bake chocolate chip version.

She'd noticed a while ago that on days like this, the ones where the house was empty – Henry wrapped up in whatever game or book he was stuck on, the fishing season keeping Hook busy at the harbor, and Killian and Emma working separate shifts – that the quiet seemed to get to Alice a little more, to creep up the stairs to the third floor and ruin the happiness she'd found in painting or reading.

It was something Emma remembered from her time in the system as a kid – Am I alone? Is anyone coming back? Can I trust the quiet – and she'd wanted to find one way she could remind Alice that here at least, in this house, the quiet was just that, and that she was never alone – not anymore.

Cookies had seemed like a good option. Emma definitely wasn't a baker, but even she could manage a canister of prepackaged dough, and the thought of the kitchen smelling like baking cookies seemed like just the homey type of thing they could both appreciate. No one bakes cookies when they're the only one to enjoy them.

“Those are cookies?” Alice questioned as she eyed the tube suspiciously, an eyebrow cocked in such a way that Emma's heart skipped a beat, the gesture mimicking her father so closely.

“Well, this world's version of them, at least...or maybe my version.” Emma rolled the canister in her hands, perusing the very simple instructions she was sure she couldn't mess up. “So, how about it, want to make some cookies with me? They'll go perfect with hot cocoa...”

“Yes!” Alice enthused, nodding her head vigorously and giving Emma one of those smiles that were coming a little easier each day. “Cookies sound great, Emma.”

“Alright, kid, let's find a baking sheet and...”

The afternoon drifted away, the noise spreading from the kitchen as Emma and Alice wrangled cookie sheets and mugs to the second floor as Henry won his game with a whoop and nearly galloped down the stairs to see what they were up to.

By the time both Hook and Killian strolled in from work, everything was far less quiet than it had been that morning. They stopped in the doorway to soak up the cozy view of their family gathered around the coffee table – mugs of hot cocoa and a plate of half eaten cookies spread among the deck of cards that neither of them recognized.

“Uno!” screeched Alice, slapping her card down on the table hard enough to make the mugs skitter, her knees bouncing with excitement against the floors.

“How did you get all the wilds?” Henry moped, eyeing the piles of cards as if he was going to spot some form of trickery. “Is this deck stacked?”

“It's just Uno, kid,” Emma consoled, her hand darting out to muss his hair as he leaned dramatically away, swatting her off. “I'm pretty sure you can't stack the deck.”

“Oh, I don't know, darling,” Hook mused as he shed his boots and both he and Killian joined everyone in the family room, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips as she smiled up at him, “a pirate always finds a way.”

/

Emma waited nervously outside the school, Henry barely pausing to give her a lopsided hug before taking off with his friend Jake for a weekend of video games, junk food, and boy jokes that Emma was perfectly happy to miss out on for once.

She kicked the light blanket of snow aimlessly beneath her boots, watching as the kids filtered out, joining other waiting parents or heading down the streets toward home by themselves. It didn't take long before she spied a familiar head of long blonde hair, her blue beanie pulled low over her ears, hands tucked inside the grey pea jacket she'd picked out herself.

“Alice!” Emma called, waving her over, her stomach only churning a little as Alice paused in confusion before jogging to her side – Emma wincing as she nearly slipped and fell on an icy patch before finally arriving in one piece.  

This was the first time she was walking Alice back to the house instead of Hook, but he hadn't been feeling well, and Emma had insisted he stay home in bed while she went, reminding him that the break from the station would be nice. Alice was probably old enough to find her own way back, but neither Hook nor Alice seemed ready for that, and after everything they'd gone through, Emma wasn't about to judge him for still needing the assurance that his daughter was safe and sound – and though Alice was almost a teenager, she'd spent enough of her life alone.  

“Emma!” Alice trilled, her words a puff of smoke in the cold air, “I didn't know you'd be walking me home today.”

“Your Papa isn't feeling so hot, so I told him to stay home while I came to get you. I hope that was okay,” she explained, biting back the sinking disappointment that maybe for Alice it wasn't, instead focusing on staying in step with her...step-daughter, she supposed...as they headed back toward home.

“I'm actually really glad you came today,” Alice confided, looking up at her shyly before turning her gaze back to the sidewalk stretching out before them. “I wanted to ask...well, is it okay if I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Emma stammered, brow furrowing as she wondered what Alice could possibly want to know – hoping it was something she could answer without needing to run it by Hook first. “Shoot, kid.”

“Shoot?”

“Sorry, that just means go ahead, ask away – you can talk to me about anything, Alice. I hope you know that...”

It was more of an offering than she would normally give someone, but Alice wasn't just someone. She was family – and Emma had stopped bringing up her walls for family a long time ago. If there was anything she wanted Alice to understand, it was that she wasn't just a part of Hook's family, and by extension, herself and Henry and Killian's, but that they were all in this together – all five of them.  

She wanted her to know she was cared for, that she was loved.  

“Yeah, I know that,” Alice murmured, her cheeks reddened by the cold beneath her hat, “and, well, I really don't want to ask Papa about this...what if you like someone, Emma. How do you get them to like you back?”

“Oh, well that's...” Emma faltered, suddenly less cheerful about the fact that Alice was opening up to her. She'd never had these kind of conversations with Henry – other than the one time in Camelot – but it hadn't been like this, not really. This was...this was something else entirely, and Emma didn't even have any memories of someone else having them with her to fall back on. “That's kind of a complicated one, but what's most important is understanding that someone should like you for who you already are. Does that make sense?”

“Kind of,” Alice hedged, her lips drawing into a thin line as her jaw clenched, another reminder of her father and Killian, “but what if, what if they wouldn't normally like someone like you?”  

“Alice, Emma spoke, her voice soft but serious as she stopped and waited for the young girl next to her to look up. “You are brave, and smart, and fierce – and I've never met someone who's been through so much and still has the kindest, most trusting heart. Don't think you ever need to change, or pretend to be someone else just to get a boy to like you. Because if they don't see how great you are, they're crazy.”

Unwanted memories of Neal flickered through her head, memories of being scared and terrified and so desperate to not be alone that she overlooked every red flag that had popped up in that relationship.

“It's not...” Alice whispered, nibbling on the edge of her lip as she looked up at Emma with a furrowed brow. “What if it's not a boy? What if I like a girl, and I wished she liked me back?”

“Oh, well, the same rules apply,” Emma shrugged, “you just remember to always be yourself, and one day someone will come along who loves you for exactly who you are – boy, girl, it doesn't matter.”

“Did you ever like someone who didn't like you back?”

“Oh, for sure. Devon Sawa, for starters – I had it bad for him.”

“And he didn't like you back?”

“Didn't even know I existed,” Emma deadpanned, remembering flipping through the pages of a teen magazine at the bodega before the owner had yelled at her and run her out, “but you'll probably meet a lot of people that you like, kid, and sometimes, there will be people who like you, but you don't feel the same way about them.”

“That sounds complicated.”

“When it's right, you'll know it, because you'll look at each other and just know that there's something special there, something different – something worth fighting for.”

“You think?” Alice whispered, her lips pulling into a grin that Emma was slowly getting used to seeing more of.

“I sure do,” Emma nodded, ruffling Alice's beanie before offering her a gloved hand. “Come on, this section of the sidewalk is solid ice up ahead – let's try to get home in one piece.”

“No one cleaned it? You'll have to give them a ticket,” Alice advised, the rest of their conversation veering into territories Emma felt she had a better grip on – homework, and the day's lessons, and what was happening for dinner – it was lasagna, Granny's doing.

And as Alice chattered on about plans to invent a recipe that had at least one thing everyone in the family liked in it, it hit Emma that there was a time topics like homework and what was for dinner had felt pretty daunting too, and she thought that just maybe she was better suited to this parenting thing than she'd ever thought possible.    

/

“Henry! Alice! Come on, guys!” Emma yelled, doubling back into the kitchen and snatching the brown paper bags from the table before hollering up the stairs at Killian and Hook to hurry up – everyone seemed distracted by something this morning.

The door slammed behind her as she jogged down the stairs and whistled sharply, Henry's head whipping around before he realized what they'd forgotten and headed back, tugging on Alice's sleeve to get her attention.

Alice pulled the headphones from her ears and looked back towards the house, watching as Emma strode toward them with the two bag lunches swinging in her hand.

“Thanks, mom,” Henry smiled, putting some extra twinkle into it since he knew everyone in the house was already running late for their day – and Emma had already mentioned more than once she had new office staff in to train that morning.

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma huffed, unable to keep her frown up as Henry flashed her a grin and one of the bags disappeared from her hand, Alice's fingers reaching and tugging the second free.

“Yup, thanks, mum!” Alice echoed, already moving to plug her headphones back into her ears before her hand paused in midair, an uncertain set to her lips as she turned and met Emma's eyes. “Is that...is it okay if I call you...”

“Hey,” Emma reassured, reaching her arms around the young girl and giving her a tight squeeze, her own eyes tearing up as she pressed a firm kiss to the top of her head. “I would love if you called me mom.”

“I've never had a mum,” she whispered, eyebrows lifting as she tried to stifle the wide smile that was threatening to break over her face, “but I've always wanted one.”

“Well, you've got me now, kid. You know, I didn't have a mom either – or a family at all when I was your age – but then I found them.”

“Henry and Killian.”

“And your Papa, and you, Alice.”

“I like that a lot,” she nodded, “that we'll always be together – all of us.”

Emma nodded in agreement, stepping back as Alice tucked the headphones back into her ears, waving a shy goodbye as she hurried to catch up with Henry, who over the past year and half had become more and more of a brother to her.

“Is everything alright, love?” Killian asked, his hand settling onto the small of her back as she watched the kids round the corner ahead.

“Yeah,” she rasped, the word falling a little harshly from her lips as she cleared her throat and swallowed heavily, her eyes burning. “Everything's great.”

She turned at the sound of familiar footsteps, Hook stopping to join them. Both men were sharing identical looks of concern as they took in the glistening at the corner of her eyes, the way her smile was a little less steady than normal.

“What is it?” Hook worried, his gaze flickering to Killian to confirm that he was just as in the dark. “Is everything well with Alice and Henry?”

“Alice just asked if she could call me mom,” Emma beamed, swiping halfheartedly at the tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. “I just thought – ”

Her breath flew from her in a rush as Hook swooped her into his arms, nearly crushing her against his chest as Killian leaned against them to press a kiss to her cheek.

“I had a feeling she'd get there soon,” he murmured into her hair as Hook wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I've seen the way she adores you, looks up to you.”

“It's just been so long since you became Dad to both of them,” she stammered, turning in Hook's arms so she could rest against his chest, her fingers wrapping with Killian's as he beamed at the memory. “I just kind of figured she was more comfortable having me just be...Emma.”

“Oh, love,” Hook murmured against her, his lips pressing soft kisses into her skin, “You've never been just anything. She only needed to get there in her own time – to realize it wasn't biology that makes a mother, but being there for all of the small moments.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed, sweeping Emma into his arms the moment Hook let her go, the three of them overjoyed at the family moment that felt like such a huge step. “She's lucky to have a mother like you, Emma, as is Henry.”

Emma couldn't help the happy tears that started every now and then throughout the day, those memories that belonged to a little girl sitting alone on a bed – alone in a house that didn't want her – washed away by how full and meaningful her life had become.

END

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul @kmom0f4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop

If you’d like to be added or removed from my tag list, please let me know. Be aware that I keep one list for all story updates. 

[dear-yandere]

terms of endearment (iii).

yandere! brandos + zeppelis. what they call their darling. warning: implied not sfw.

Dio Brando / DIO

♡ (little) mortal

Anything preceded by little is his favorite, but there’s something about the way humans shake when he calls them mere ‘mortals’. Darling is no exception, naturally; he wants them to fear him the most, even if it’s only for his amusement.

“Get on your knees, mortal.”

♡ little one

Reserved for when his darling is good. He’ll press them into his lap as he strokes their hair, uttering surprisingly soft praises and the promise of reward, which you cling onto desperately as it’s so rare. It’s hard not to drink his praise up, considering you feel you’re undeserving of him.

“You’ve been good, little one. I suppose I’ll have to treat you later.”

♡ little dove

Even though he’s not usually one for endearing pet names, this one slips out in the heat of the moment. He cherishes his darling a bit more than he realizes, even if he just sees them as a bird trapped in a cage. He does adore them, deep down, as more than a pet (as he likes to claim).

“Cry for me more, little dove.”

Diego Brando

♡ love or darling

His usual pet names for darling, albeit rare. Coupled with his British accent, it’s enough to make his admirers plenty jealous... if they’re even alive, by this point. Tends to use 'love’ or ‘darling’ when being condescending or offering darling advice a second change.

“If you try to run again, I’ll have to remind you just how mean I can be, love.”

“If you want to stay on my good side, darling, then listen.”

♡ pet

For when he’s frustrated and needs an outlet... ♡ He gets off on the power dynamic, truthfully. He’ll kick you into the dirt, gently enough to not leave bruising, and raise your chin with his boots, demanding:

“Get on your knees and make yourself useful, pet.”

Caesar Zeppeli

♡ carina or bello/a

It doesn’t hold much weight, at first, since he seems to throw ‘carina’ or ‘bella’ at every pretty girl he sees. He just seems to use it most on you... and it always leaves you conflicted. It’s a rather bittersweet name, at first...

“You are the only one for me, carina.”

“Would you do me the honor of being mine, bella?” 

♡ tesoro/a

A common nickname used by Italian men, but it feels different coming from Caesar’s mouth. Hearing him call you his one and only ‘treasure’ during sex is enough to convince you of his faithfulness...even if you’re only convinced for the time being.

“Ah, your moans are wonderful, tesoro. K-keep going, please...” 

Gyro Zeppeli

♡ cow girl or little miss

His usual, flirty nicknames for darling. He’s fond of teasing them, going so far as to don a stereotypical cowboy accent for good measure, even if it sounds  a tad odd with his Italian accent. Still, seeing their face light up in red is always worth it ~

“Whoa there cow girl, there’s enough of me to go around.”

“Looking mighty fine there, little miss. Care to share some drinks with me?” 

♡ dolcezza, shortened to doll

He tends to revert back to Italian when he’s nearing his high during sex, he can’t help it. He can be surprisingly romantic, stroking his darling’s hair and whispering praise they won’t understand in Italian; but, sometimes he falls back on being lazy and shortens it to ‘doll’.

“Saddle up, doll. I can’t promise ‘ya a smooth ride tonight...”

part i — part ii — part iv — part v.

[cptnbvcks]

If you do the prompts for Mando, you should do 94 ;3 ❤

warnings: nsfw! sex, blowjobs, and a lil bit of a facial. 

94. “You’re lying to me” “About what?” “About the compressor. It’s not broken, you just want me to ‘fix it’ so you can spend time with me”

“I don’t know what’s more incredible — the fact that this ship hasn’t dropped you straight out of orbit yet, or that you’re willing to trust that it won’t.” 

The Mandalorian doesn’t laugh at your joke, but then again you don’t think you’ve ever seen your favorite client indicate much amusement in any of the times he’s arrived at your hangar. 

He’s all business and you get on his nerves and you grin because you like it this way. You like it when his grip tightens over your hips as he pushes you against the console of the Razor Crest’s cockpit because you’ve plucked his final nerve. You like it when you drop to your knees for him and let him fuck all the smart words from your mouth.

You reckon he likes it too because his gloved hand grips a little tighter around the curve of your throat and your laughter dies in little gasps of breath. The Mandalorian pins your head against the hard beskar of his chest plate as you arch your back and press your hips hungrily into his lap, fucking yourself on his cock as best as you can. The pilot’s chair groans a short complaint beneath you both and it makes you want to giggle through the haze of pleasure.

You make a mental reminder to oil that later.

“I don’t— trust that it won’t—,” the hunter grunts in your ear, his words catching in his throat when you bear your walls down tight around his twitching cock, “—I trust you to fix it.” He corrects you, his words raspy and clipping on the helmet’s modulator as his free hand wedges itself between your soft thighs and you can barely fight the prideful smirk that’s testing at the corners of your trembling lips when his fingers part your soaked folds to press fast circles over your clit.

Your body lurches and your toes curl and your feet don’t touch the ground so they settle over his boots as you quicken the roll of your hips to match the urgency of his hard, deliberate thrusts. Your brow furrows with pleasure as he jerks his hips up and his cock hits you so deep that your eyes roll back in your head and the only smart thing you can think of is a choked wail, your body straining to curl into the pleasure while he holds you to his body.

Somewhere in the haze, you find it in you to rasp out a jerky response from behind his squeezing palm, your fingers wrapping over the cold steel arm plates and pressing him to your chest, “Oh b–baby, I can— l— nghh —, I can fix anything.”

He lets out a soft noise behind you and you’d like to think he’s laughing.

Your head drops back against his armor with a soft thunk and you cast half-dazed eyes up at him. His head is half tilted back against the headrest and for just a moment, you see the dark material that arches over the strong line of his jaw and ascends into the shadow beneath the helmet. It’s only a brief glimpse and your view is quickly cut short when he tilts his head down and you feel his gaze burn into you.

You don’t think he’s mad at you for accidentally peeking at nothing, but he sure doesn’t seem too pleased when he suddenly rises out of his seat and takes you with him, his cock still pressed achingly deep in your cunt. You squeak at the sudden change in height as you scramble to catch yourself on the edge of the Razor Crest’s console before you can drop out of his lap.

The Mandalorian doesn’t give you time to get very comfortable, your feet skittering clumsily over the cockpit floor, before his hand wrenches your head back by a fistful of your hair and begins hammering into you, battering your walls with ruthless intent.

He’s all armored up and your pants are rolled down to your knees and it’s quick and dirty and none too comfortable with the beskar biting rawly into the backs of your thighs with each thrust. But you take him any way you can get him, even if it means with your pants roughly rucked down and panties pushed aside as he fucks you into whatever corner of the ship he so pleases.

His noises echo in the room, ragged and mused by the modulator but they send you reeling regardless knowing that you’re the one earning those noises from the usually restrained Mandalorian. He inhales sharply when your walls squeeze him as he draws back and impales you to the hilt again and again, the wet heat of your body nursing him closer and closer to where he desperately needs to be.

You’re losing your rhythm and he knows by the way your knees buckle so deep that he has to wrap his arm around your waist to keep you upright that you’re about to— 

You’re not a quiet woman but, maker, the Mandalorian never expected you to completely lose your ability to speak when you come. 

His only indication is the vicious squeeze of your walls as they clench and unclench around his girth, drawing him into your body as your cunt gushes warmly against his skin. You’re shaking hard and you’re gasping and whimpering and the Mandalorian can only secure his grip tighter around your fraught body, forcing you to manage around a few more jerky thrusts of his own.

“Is— is it okay, if I—,” he’s holding himself back by a thread and you hear it in his voice, urgent and desperate as he gasps around the vice grip your cunt has on his length. He curses under his breath as the arm that’s locked around your waist yanks your ass higher into the air and deeper into his lap. He hits you somewhere earth-shattering and your left knee buckles at the sheer force and pleasure that rocks thorough your body. 

Your toes curl harder and you shake your head quickly, one hand pushing now against the beskar arm that’s pinning your hips to his. “N-no,” you breathe, “In— in my mouth. Come in my mouth.”

The Mandalorian thinks he might have lost himself right there between the unforgiving grip of your walls if you hadn’t bucked him off and pushed him back into the pilots chair.

You’re on your knees and your mouth wraps around the slick length of him, cheeks hollowed and tongue dragging obscenely over the ridge of his cock’s head.  You clench your fist tight around his cock and you can taste yourself on his length and feel your cum slick beneath your fingers and maybe it’s a little depraved that this is as much skin as you can ever expect to get from a man like him. You take him deeper in your mouth at the thought and you don’t stop until your throat threatens a gag response. 

He gasps hard, his noises catching easy in the helmet’s modulator. They’re restrained and unsteady and it doesn’t take more than a moment with your plush lips around him before he twitches against your tongue. He comes hard and you draw back quickly, pumping him eagerly as you open your mouth and allow his cum to coat your tongue and shoot messily across the blushed pillows of your cheeks.

He’s less quiet when he comes; his breath falls from him in hard groans that draw ragged from his throat. He gasps and moans and somewhere in the deep grunts you can hear your name.

You can’t tell if he’s mortified by the obscenity, or if it just makes him come harder as he clenches his fists against the leather armrests of his seat and watches. 

His body slumps finally, the shiny cuirass rising and falling quickly with his stuttering breaths. 

You close your mouth and he watches you swallow his seed and his heart hammers as you drag the back of your palm over your mouth and only manage to smear his come further across your cheek. 

You grin and he’s speechless. 

“So,” he huffs after a moment, his voice cracking as he tries to collect himself, “The— the compressor… how much?”

Your grin doesn’t falter as you run your tongue across your lips and taste the salt of him on your skin, “Oh, I’ve been paid,” you tease, setting a hand on the beskar thigh plate, “but I still can’t fix what’s not broken.”

His head tilts and you note the question that appears in his silence.

“You’re lying to me.” Your voice is teasing as you lean into his thigh and he shivers as your breath dances warmly across the exposed length of him. 

“About what?” 

You bat your eyes cutely and peer up at him from beneath the length of your lashes. It was endearing, but then you opened that smart mouth of yours and said:

“About the compressor. It’s not broken, you just want me to ‘fix it’ so you can spend time with me.” 

—

a/n: had this mostly completed before yesterday, so here it is. i’ll be slowly getting to the rest of prompts because they keep my mind off of things. i’ve got quite a few so i’m working through bit by bit!

Tag List (because i know some thirsty bitches wanna see the smut)

@sophiria @imspillingcoffee @plumbuck @romqnofff @sexygaypalpatine @elisaa-shelby @readermia @the-dream-catch3r @pinkmoontribe-blog @madkingcrowley @whenimaunicorn @petalduck @fairylightsandchai  @osejn @mandowhoreian @letdecemberburninflames @chickens-are-velociraptors @naiomiwinchester @peregrinestook  @space-helen​ @virtuousburden​ @daddehhmando @thechampmylove @kiame-sama @knightheartcd @lustriix @deviantloving-detective @headsindreams @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @sgtbookybarnes @celestiaalbliss @coonflix @thetrappednerd @brooklymw @the-omni-princess @sav-a-nna @actuallyanita​ @equalstrashflavoredtrash​ @claynarwale​ @pedrolovebot​ @mermaid-seachelle

Message me if you’d like to be added or removed!

Star Wars Dialogue Prompts

[carelessannie]

Because I have no patience, here’s the first chapter of my three part Reverse Little Mermaid Winteriron AU

while we're devoting full time to floating chapter one: floating in a blue lagoon

Rating: T (for now) Word Count: 3.5K Relationships: Tony x Bucky, background Natasha x Wanda Warnings: Prejudice against Merpeople, Steve’s kind of an ass, boat violence, magic use Read on AO3

Chapter One | Chapter Two

---

Spring-time has broken— making way, quickly, for a blazing summer. Celebratory music carries from the interior of the city, echoing from the palace in the center all the way out to the surrounding villages, drawing citizens closer— like moths to a joyful flame. Heading in the opposite direction, unseen by guards and villagers, two silhouettes slip toward the shoreline.

Up ahead is an expansive boathouse, accessible only by royal decree and permission from the crown. Bucky lifts up on his toes to check through the window for officers or other sailors— no one in sight. His key easily unlocks the door and he holds it open for Alpine to sprint through.

Bucky pads across the dock, heading for his humble fishing boat and checking for guards, whistling low between his fingers to call his Border Collie to his side. Alpine comes bounding over, shaking out her pure white coat, and pants, eyes wide with excitement.

“Quiet, Alpine,” he hisses, motioning to stay low, “almost there, girl.”

Towards the end of the dock, he can see his boat. Restored over years of hard work, The Widow sits proudly at the end of the line, beckoning him to sail away. He helps Alpine climb inside and makes haste to cast off, pushing away from the dock and dipping his oars into the gentle waves.

The sun is hot, but Bucky doesn’t mind it. His gaze is locked ahead and his focus is sure. The waters are quiet as he rows out into the open ocean, letting the current push him parallel to the coastline and away from the village.

It’s not like he’s running away— no. He just knows his brother would stop him if he knew, and it’s far too close to migration to wait another day.

After a while, he sees the cove— his favorite spot, sheltered under a familiar rocky cliff— and steers towards it. Once he’s close, Bucky tethers the boat to a nearby boulder. He helps Alpine out and climbs up the jagged rocks, settling over the water.

Here he adjusts his covering and removes a few flat stones, revealing provisions he stored long ago in a discreet iron box. Bucky lays on his belly, wiggling until he can peak over the edge.

Then he waits.

It doesn’t take long. With lenses pressed to his face, his enhanced view picks up movement below. Three large figures, cutting gracefully through the crystal clear water, swim into focus. Bucky holds his breath, taking only a moment to scrawl a few details onto his journal pages. Remarkable.

He watches the Merpeople hesitantly explore the cove underneath and talk animatedly between each other. Bucky only hears snippets of conversations as they surface, and it seems like a dark haired, red-tailed Mer is their leader. The other two— the first with bright red hair, and the second with darker skin— follow the red-tailed Mer around the shallow waters, inspecting rocks and plant life, talking distractedly about a settlement nearby.

“These waters are clear, no remnants left from past colonies.”

Bucky knows this already. He’s been observing Mer migration patterns for years, and none of them ever stay long enough to impact the nearby ecosystems. Still, he jots down a note about their self awareness.

“Still, the access to resources and deeper waters is desirable in this area.”

This Bucky knows as well. Outside of the cove and the surrounding reef, there’s a steep drop off down into unexplored waters. He’s tried to swim down a few times, but hasn’t yet found the floor.

Finally the red-tailed Mer speaks, he voice deep and alluring, causing Bucky’s head to snap up in surprise—

“I’m sure the King would be thrilled to hear of this discovery,” he drawls, and something in his tone convinces Bucky that this King would decidedly not be pleased. “Take a few samples, keep them close. I’ll study them in my lab when we get back and present them to the King myself.”

Bucky has to stop himself from chuckling. He understands exactly how this Mer feels about his King, and he’s instantly endeared. He can’t, for the life of him, tear his gaze from the red-tailed Mer. The man is striking, beautiful and full of life, and Bucky has never seen one like him before. His body is lean and toned like most Mers tend to be, but something about his posture screams authority and importance. He sighs, knowing the three of them will probably move on, migrate further south and into warmer waters.

He pulls away to take a drink from his water flask and sees a flash in the corner of his eye. Something approaching— fast and dangerous. The Mers below are oblivious, and the next thing he knows, they’re being circled and cornered by three, large Tiger sharks.

Bucky gets to his knees, gripping the rocks as he watches the sharks close in, forcing the Mers to press together a few meters in front of the cove.

The largest shark attacks. It’s a flurry of motion and violent waters as the other two follow suit, converging on the Mers from all sides. It seems as though each Mer fights a single shark, and they draw vicious, serrated weapons to slice through the water.

But the Tiger sharks are quick. The largest one whips, lightning fast, and catches the red-tailed Mer in the chest, sending him careening into the rocky wall. The other two Mers are chased away. They dodge and swim through the shallow waters and disappear out of sight to avoid the close pursuing sharks. Bucky glances down, watching in horror as the largest shark closes in on his prey below.

The red-tailed Mer isn’t moving, and the shark is swimming closer. Bucky scrambles, picking up his own hunting knife, and stripping off his shirt and boots before diving off the cliff.

His attack takes the shark by surprise, and Bucky plunges into the water, striking clean and slicing through the predator. Blood pours out of the open wound and Bucky has to surface, gulping in air as he watches the shark retreat.

He sheaths his weapon and turns, looking for the injured Mer. Bucky dives down and sees him drifting against the rocky wall, propped up and unconscious. When Bucky gets closer he finds blood, fresh and urgent, seeping out of the Mer’s wound— dead center on his chest.

Without hesitating, Bucky pulls the Mer up to the surface. He swims, slowly but effectively, back to the cove and rests against the rocky shore, letting the vibrant tail hydrate in the water.

“Hey,” Bucky looks into the man’s face, gently pushing back a thick strand of dark hair, “wake up, please. C’mon, I need you to wake up.”

The wound is still bleeding, slower than before, but persistently trickling down into the pool of water.

“Okay, okay… dammit,” Bucky curses, “stay here,” he instructs, mostly for his own sake, and sprints out of the cove, climbing the rock face to retrieve his shirt and a few supplies. Herbs and spices can usually make a good potion, even for inexperienced users— which Bucky definitely isn’t . He rubs a few together in his hands as he ducks back into the cove, kneeling next to the unmoved Mer. Gently, so gently, Bucky presses his fingers against his skin to rub the potion into the wound, wrapping it tenderly with strips of his own shirt after.

The Mer groans, hunching in to protect the wound instinctively.

“No, darling, let me heal it,” Bucky begs, laying the man down again while he works. He looks around. It would help if there was...

Aha! A golden ring dangles from the Mer’s neck, a perfect vessel for a healing spell. Bucky slips the ring on his own finger, taking a deep breath before performing the spell. It’s taxing. It hurts. But Bucky can see the ring glow and flex on his finger, accepting the enchantment and waiting for it’s impending assignment.

The ring is laid back on the Mer’s chest, still attached with the delicate chain, and Bucky is satisfied when he sees the wounds rapidly closing. He sighs in relief, holding the Mers hand and feeling the delicate pulse even out. He wishes he could see the man’s eyes, at least once. Damn the King and his stupid laws.

Movement, stirring from the Mer, and Bucky knows he must go. He can’t help but lean closer, studying the breathtaking features of this man’s face and pressing a lingering kiss onto his temple, before withdrawing and racing for his boat. He whistles for Alpine to join him, and takes off for the village. He’s been away far too long, and the King is bound to have noticed his absence.

---

“Do you know what you have done?”

The King, his brother, is fuming— full of violent rage that even Bucky shys away from. He had pulled Bucky off his boat the moment he returned, ordering the guards to seize him and The Widow for crimes against the crown.

“And to see the Merpeople again, I should have known. How could you, Buck? Openly disregarding my decree and putting all of our people in jeopardy— for what? Research?”

“He was dying!”

“Better him than another one of us.”

Bucky recoils, “You don’t mean that. The Mers have always been peaceful—“

“And that’s because they are ignorant of our existence— dammit Buck! What if he had seen you?”

“He didn’t.”

“And he won’t.”

“What does that mean?” Bucky asks, daring to look his brother in the eye. All he finds is cool indifference.

“It means that until further notice, I’m confiscating your traveling privileges. You will serve in my court and retire to your chambers, guarded as to not leave the grounds— is that clear?”

“Steve, what the hell—“

“You may keep the company of your dog,” the King, his brother and best friend, sets his jaw and points towards Bucky’s beloved boat, “but as a consequence for disgracing your King and country, my guard will take care of your transportation.”

“No!” Bucky cries, fighting the strong hold on his arms as two members of the royal guard unceremoniously drop a torch into his boat, setting it on fire. “Damn you, Steve!”

They let him struggle, thrashing and yelling to no avail, and the crowd watches as his most prized possession is burned to ashes. Bucky falls to his knees, speechless.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the King retreat, walking out of sight without even the courtesy of a dismissal. His vision blurs red.

Steve never listens.

The guards haul him up by the armpits, but Bucky barely even notices. He lets himself be dragged away and led back to his quarters, collapsing onto his bed with a sob as they lock the doors behind him. He feels Alpine crawl up next to him, and he holds her close, soaking her fur with heaving, furious tears.

When the sun goes down, Bucky packs a bag. It’s not an issue to find a way out of the palace— he’s been doing that for years. The issue is tracking down his contact, making sure she still lives across the bay, and convincing her to help him. Her allegiance is strong with the King, but he thinks he might have the upperhand to a few of her debts.

Bucky drops a quick kiss to Alpine’s head, tying a note around her collar. It won’t help to have her starving and the kingdom torn apart in his absence, so he quickly charms the letter to sooth and calm it’s readers. That should give him enough time to evade any search and rescue.

From there, it’s a simple shimmy out the window, a well-timed jump across a few balconies, light-footed paces through empty streets, and then, thankfully, a straightforward hike out of the city. The sun has long since set. Bucky pushes forward, ignoring the increasing chill as he climbs in elevation— his destination is just up ahead.

Before he crosses into her wards, Bucky comes to a stop. He searches the ground for… yes! A small ring of stones lies around her cottage, strengthening her security and vigil over her land, and Bucky kneels in front of them, gently laying his fingers on the ones nearby. It only takes a moment of letting his walls down, power flowing down his arms and into his hands, and he smiles to feel a warm thrum in response. The wards accept his familiar presence, and he stands to make his way to the cottage that lies behind the tree covering.

“You had better have a good excuse to be here, James.”

He hears her greeting before he spots her in the doorframe, curves silhouette tantalizing and a stark contrast from the light within the house. He smiles, picking up his pace and running forward, “Oh, Nat. Damn, if it isn’t good to see you.”

Natasha lets him swing her up into his arms, but gives a stinging flick to his ear.

“I’ve already heard of your transgressions, James. When will you just accept your brother’s rule, and learn that his word is law?”

Bucky sweeps into the cottage and leads the way to her personal rooms. It seems as though someone else has been living in this space— there’s another, strong, trace of magic intertwined with Natasha’s. He ignores her implications and raises an eyebrow, “Who are you hosting, Nat?”

The grin Natasha throws him is downright feral, and Bucky almost regrets asking. She brings her fingers up to her lips and whistles, brief and sharp.

“Her name is Wanda, she will join us momentarily,” Natasha pours him herbal tea, gesturing for them to sit in the living space. He allows himself to put his bag down, but he lets himself fidget a little bit— cataloging his urgency to his friend and trusting her to pick up his unspoken needs. “Tell me, pretty Prince— why are you seeking me out after such drama, at this time of night?”

He frowns at her moniker, but decides to give it to her straight, “Steve’s bias has gotten out of hand. I witnessed an exploration party of three Mers out by my cove, and there was a shark attack. The leader of their party was knocked unconscious, so I intervened to stop the shark from killing him. I had to swim him to safety, Nat, and I enchanted his ring with a healing spell. I left before he could wake up, and when I got back…” Bucky breathes, breaking his eye contact with Natasha, “well, it sounds like you’ve heard the rest.”

Her face falls in a genuine show of regret, “I’m really sorry, James, I know how much—”

“It’s fine,” he cuts her off, “I just need help convincing Steve that Mers are worth protecting. He just sees them as a threat, and he hates their ignorance about us. He doesn’t trust it. But they’re incredible, Nat, honestly. And this one I saw today… damn.”

Her eyes gleam, mischievous, “Oh? You have a crush on the Mer you saved and healed with your magic— how surprising.”

“Shut it, Nat,” he hisses, rolling his eyes as she cackles, “I’ve never seen a man so beautiful in my life. And, I don’t know, something about how he spoke, his voice and his humor—”

“James, I hate you.”

“— excuse me?”

“I now owe Clint a very large sum because of you.”

When Bucky fails to react, Natasha just sighs, “He bet you’d fall in love with a Mer. I just didn’t think you were that stupid.”

“Hey! I’m not in love—”

“Sure, Jay,” she laughs, turning to face the back stairwell as Bucky throws a pillow at her, “oh! Wanda! Please, come in and meet James.”

Standing at the bottom of the staircase is a petite girl, maybe a few years younger than Bucky himself, with auburn hair that rivals Natasha’s in brilliance. He can feel her power from here. A shiver runs down his spine.

She’s careful to walk into the room, as though any sudden movement may set off a catalyst of magic strong enough to rip the room apart. And he honestly doesn’t doubt that could happen.

“This is Wanda,” Natasha introduces them, and Bucky reaches to take her tiny hand in greeting. She looks one part terrified, and another part… angry? She still shakes his hand and mumbles a pleasantry. He knows that if Steve were here, she would probably be arrested for insolence to the crown or something comparable.

“It’s nice to meet you, Wanda. You can call me Bucky, everyone besides Natasha does.”

The look on her face says she will most likely not be calling him Bucky.

“Well, why don’t you spend the night here, James?” Natasha asks, standing to her feet and gliding into the kitchen, “we have a spare room, and can talk strategy in the morning.”

“I’d rather—”

“I insist,” Natasha cuts him off. She pours him a glass of water and pushes it into his hand, “I’m going to sleep. You know where the guest room is.”

“Isn’t…” he awkwardly motions towards Wanda, confused about the sleeping arrangements until he sees the flush in Wanda’s cheeks, the salacious grin on Natasha’s face.

“You don’t worry about us, our arrangements work just fine. Get some rest, James,” and with that, Natasha disappears up the staircase with a small kiss to the top of Wanda’s head. To his surprise, Wanda doesn’t move a muscle. She’s still staring at him, and it starts to get uncomfortable as they sit in silence.

Bucky clears his throat, “So, how did you—”

“I can help you with your problem.”

He does a double take, “— get… uh, what? Which problem?”

Wanda takes a seat across from him, but her posture is anything but relaxed. It’s her facial expression that makes him freeze— not just anger and fear, but knowing. Understanding. He curses himself because instead of scaring him, the knowledge in her eyes draws him closer.

She tilts her head to the side, slightly, “With your Merpeople. And with your brother. I’ve seen the conflict and I witnessed the shark attack. I know how your heart thrums in time with this red-tailed Merman, and how you long for it to beat in time with your brother, the King.”

“How do you—”

“You assume Natasha told me, but rest assured, my power and devices stretch far beyond her secret spies. I have a deal to offer you, and in return, you will earn the ear of the King and the heart of the sea.”

Bucky gives her a suspicious eye, but in reality, his heart is pounding. This girl, barely old enough to inherit land, is offering him the depths of his desires. But he knows mages, understands their loopholes and caveats.

“Tell me, Wanda— what is your scheme? What would be my payment?”

“Simple,” she answers, gaze going distant, “I’d first give you access to the King of the sea. Through the Mer you saved, his only son, you will forge a treaty between land and ocean. I will give you a way in, but in turn, you will have to enter the same spell all Mers are under: to forget and lose humanity. You will still remember names and faces and stories, but all will be in a cloak of ignorance. Like them, you will have no knowledge of the world above.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “How am I supposed to forge a treaty between the two worlds if I can’t remember the one I’ve come from?”

“A royal alliance will break the spell. Marriage or covenant between the Prince of the land and Prince of the sea will not only break the cloak of ignorance on your mind, but also the ignorance of all who live in the Mer kingdom.”

His mind is racing. On one hand, he’s never easily put his trust in a strange mage, even one who seems to be… intimate with Natasha. On the other, he’s been looking for a way into the sea kingdom for years. Her spell could be the bridge that brings everything together.

“Oh, but there is one catch, James.”

“I knew it.”

“If you cannot get the Prince to fall in love and wed you, the enchantment on your memories will keep progressing. You will not only forget humanity, but you will completely forget yourself as well.”

“Does Natasha know you’re offering me this deal?”

“She knows we’re discussing it, yes.”

“How long would I have until my memories start to fade?” Bucky asks. He can’t believe he’s actually considering this.

Wanda seems to consider it, “No less than a month, no more than three.”

“So I’d give up my humanity, get this prince to fall in love with me, and break the spell over their kingdom. If I can’t do it, I’m lost to the sea forever— sound about right?”

Her mouth quirks up in a smile grin, “That’s about the gist of it.”

He thinks about Steve. About his life in the city— all the people who would miss him, and about Alpine and Natasha and even his royal guard. He thinks about the stunning, striking Mer from this afternoon. His ruby scales and cutting wit. Bucky desperately wants to see his eyes.

He looks down at his hands and sighs, straightening his back in determination.

From there, the decision isn’t hard.

[honeymoonjin]

10k for 10k drabble

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 namjoon x reader || 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 1k || 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 fluff, sfw, g-rated

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 determined to find new scents for his candles, namjoon takes you to a plant nursery to scout flowers.

PART OF THE 10K FOR 10K MILESTONE CELEBRATION and sponsored by  a donation to the Black Lives Matter movement.

Please read the original first if you haven’t already.

–

“What do you think? Too tangy, right?”

“Tangy?” you question in disbelief. Yet, when Namjoon holds the potted plant up to your nose and you inhale deeply, there’s no better way of describing it. The green freshness of the leaves and the slightly citrusy notes of the petals mix together in a scent just bitter enough to make you wrinkle your nose. “Yeah, I don’t like that one.”

Namjoon hums in thought, placing it back on the rack. Amongst all the rows of vegetation, the air was ripe with life, that thick smell of healthy dirt and lush growth. In the flower section, the two of you had gone painstakingly down one potted plant at a time; each one was worthy of inspection, and the plant nursery was a far enough drive away that you needed to make the most of the trip.

With a chunky sweater the color of rich coffee, Namjoon looks at home here, glasses tucked in his collar so he can appreciate each scent. Even as the expert of his olfactory senses, your partner never forgets to ask your opinion too, no matter how vague or uncertain your answer is.

“This one?” Namjoon considers a pot practically spilling with life. Tall stems flop over the sides with the weight of their petals, which are bell-shaped and a deeper purple on the inside than they are on the outside. He sniffs slowly, eyes blinking but unseeing. “Mm, this one is nice, actually. Warm but very light. Don’t you think, love?”

Heavy with soil, you carefully take the terracotta pot out of Namjoon’s hands, immediately catching a whiff of the petals once they’re under your nostrils. As always, Namjoon’s explanation is perfectly fitting, and you find your eyes slipping shut to savour the delicate sweetness. “Reminds me of ylang ylang,” you say, “but not as strong.” You huff again, once of the silken petals stroking the underside of your nose. “But like a tiny bit, um, clean-smelling. Like if cotton was a flower.”

“Cotton is a flower,” Namjoon remarks with a fond quirk of his lips. “But I understand what you mean. Add to cart? I reckon that would be an excellent top note to give a bit of depth to a Fresh Linen candle.”

Your eyes slip down to the metal trolley beneath you. On the grated bed rests a calendula, several variations of roses, a wide trough filled with potting mix that would soon bear strawberries, some forget-me-nots, and a budding black dahlia, a find that Namjoon couldn’t stop buzzing about. The price was quickly racking up, but you knew how he’d obsess over whatever he didn’t buy until you’d have the chance to go back again. Besides; it would make a really nice addition to the Fresh Linen candle. “Add to cart,” you chirp, choosing the easy way out.  

Namjoon lights up, inspecting it one more time before he nestles it safely on the bed of the trolley. “That’s good,” he surmises happily, eyes crinkling cutely as he looks over his hoard. “Let’s keep looking.”

When it comes to things he loves, Namjoon has an infinite patience and quiet dedication that never fails to endear you, and so even as the sun hangs fat and low in the sky, and the air begins to thin with the evening drawing close, you still remain happily by his side, a second trolley added to the first as you finished off the flowers, moved back through the fruit trees, and finished up kneeling in the gravel of the herb garden, considering every plastic pottle.

You end up walking out with so many new acquisitions that they fill up the boot and the backseat of your car, and Namjoon can’t stop beaming all the way home, twisting around in the passenger seat to look back at them like an excited child bringing home a puppy.

Planting them in the greenhouse or the flower beds is a job for another day, and the two of you instead spend the last few remnants of the day snuggled together in bed.

Namjoon rushes to get into his pajamas – an old grey shirt with a tiny Ryan on the breast, and some plain plaid boxer shorts – so that he doesn’t miss his favorite quiz show, and you can’t help but beam at his satisfaction at calling out the right answers before the contestants answer them.

It didn’t surprise you that Namjoon was so smart, but as the two of you got closer and began spending the nights together, his habit of watching game shows every night to wind down wasn’t something you’d expected. Nevertheless, you curl up beside him now, playing along with him.

“Cameroon!” he yells as you settle down, hissing out a triumphant yes as the contestant, who also chose Cameroon, is proved right. Namjoon turns to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead between questions. “All good?”

You smile up at him. “Fantastic,” you answer honestly, “though I do hope you know that I’ll be stealing some of those lemons from the new tree once they ripen.”

“Is that so?” Namjoon asks with a grin, eyes darting to the TV screen as the host reads out the next question. He gasps. “Ooh, uh, what was it? 1840, I think…” He glances back at you again while the contestant gapes like a fish, stumped. “What do you want the lemons for, love?”

“I wanna do some baking,” you murmur, “I feel like I need to do something with my hands, you know?”

Namjoon must sense something in your eyes, because the TV blares away unwatched as he keeps his focus on you. “Is it the case?”

He always could read you like a book. You shrug. “The son said he hadn’t seen anything suspicious that day, but-” You bite your tongue, trying not to let the frustration of the day get to you. “The details aren’t adding up, I just need to get out of my own head to make sense of it.”

Namjoon nods understandingly. “I’m always here to help. But you’ll get there, I know you will.”

And when your partner turns off the television so that he can take the worries off your mind some more, you believe it too.

[ordinaryschmuck]

Top 20 BEST Animated Series of the 2010s-4th Place

To anyone who plans on making a reboot of their favorite show in the future, you might want to take notes on this next pick. Because if you ask me, this next series that I'm going to talk about is the best example of how to do a reboot properly.

#4-Ducktales (2017-2021)

The Plot: Scrooge McDuck is the richest duck in the world, who made it big by also being one of the greatest adventurers of all time...ten years ago. Sadly, after an unfortunate accident with the family, Scrooge is forced to live the life of a normal businessman-er-duck. Up until Donald Duck asks Scrooge to watch over his nephews: Huey, Dewey, and Louie. What starts off as a single day of babysitting soon turns into a life of adventure as Scrooge gets back into the adventuring spirit to show his new family what the world really has to offer.

Now I want to make one thing clear: As of the moment of me writing this review, I have seen a total of zero episodes of the original Ducktales. That being said, despite my limited knowledge of the series, I still think it’s fair of me to point out how this is hands down the best reboot as of late (and I’ll explain more as to why that is later). And besides, from what I’ve heard from fans who have watched the original, Ducktales (2017) is a pretty faithful adaptation of the beloved franchise. The reason is that I believe this show remembers the two most important rules of making a reboot.

The first rule of a reboot is to try something new while still being faithful to the source material. Doing something like that is simple as a writer just needs to keep what the fans love and change what they hated. And trust me when I say that the writers of Ducktales (2017) knows how to do just that. For the most part, the show is about a family going on crazy globe-trotting adventures while still learning that family is the best adventure of all, much like the original. As for the characters, most of them keep their fun personalities. Scrooge is still a stingy miser with the heart for adventure, Launchpad is still the lovable idiot who can’t fly a plane, and Donald Duck still remains the one who gets stuck with all the bad luck. Then some characters have their personalities/roles revamped into something that improves upon the original. The best example is Fenton, who is still the wannabe superhero but is now a scientist in this show, wherein the old one was just Scrooge’s accountant. This way, both the hero and the man-DUCK-who’s behind the mask are equally capable of saving the day. There’s also Mrs. Beakley, who was originally a nanny that nagged Scrooge’s ear off for putting the kids in danger. In the reboot, she’s treated more as the anchor of reality to the more oddball characters, who also used to be a kick-butt super spy in her younger years. It is still the same role, but a different interpretation.

Now, some characters receive grand changes to their original personalities. But from what I’ve heard, those changes are made for the better. And there are no characters that need it more than the children. More specifically, Huey, Dewey, and Louie. This show does something that I’m eternally grateful for, and that’s giving each of these three their own distinct personalities and quirks. For years I couldn’t for the life of me tell the triplets apart. They had the same design, the same voice, the same personality, and the only difference people had to go off of are their different colors (which really didn’t do much to help). Here, they have different designs, voices, and now defining character traits for each of them. Huey is the smart and responsible boy scout, Dewey is the annoying attention seeker, and Louie is the best character in the entire show, and I WILL FREAKING FIGHT YOU ON THAT! And let us not forget the most appreciated change: Webby. From what I’ve heard, fans hated the original Webby, as she was nothing more than just the stereotypical girl of the group. Here, she’s given an actual personality and a fun one to boot. Webby is the ecstatic thrill-seeking adventurer who is skilled in combat training (thanks to her grandma) and is (of course) a socially awkward girl who wants to make friends. Like I said, this show took the idea that the fans hated and changed it into something that they’ll love. Which makes sense why the writers mastered this because they themselves are real fans of the show.

It is clear how much the writers are fans of the Ducktales franchise as they filled Ducktales (2017) with many references. And not just references to the original series but also references to the classic comics by Carl Barks and even the NES video game from the 1980s (seriously, this show will make you feel things about the “Moon Theme” you wouldn’t think was possible!). Even the show’s animation seems to be a homage to both the cartoon and comics. Not only do the characters and backgrounds have a more comic book style to them, but the characters also work on a mix of realistic and cartoony logic. And let me just say, it is refreshing to see characters in a Disney show have cartoon logic to them since Wander Over Yonder got canceled. And it’s not just Ducktales that the series reference, but even classic Disney movies (of course) and other shows in the Disney Afternoon lineup. And when it comes to these references, it’s more than just a subtle wink to the fans. The writers actually go out of their way to write a story around these beloved characters, so people who don’t get the joke won’t be one-hundred percent lost. For instance, without giving anything away, the writers found a brilliant way to reintroduce Darkwing Duck in this universe that feels right for this famous character. And if you ask me personally, these are the best ways to handle references for a reboot. Make them work within the story, even if you don’t fully get the joke.

This brings me to the second most important rule of a reboot: Make a quality product even though it is based on something else. Let us pretend that the original never existed. Would Ducktales (2017) still be as good as it is now? Personally, as a person who has never seen the original, I think it is.

This is another show that mixes slice of life episodes with adventure ones, similar to My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. And just like Friendship is Magic, both are equally interesting because the characters themselves make them so. No matter what situation the Duck Family are in, the audience will care about it because the characters care about it. In fact, I think Ducktales (2017) handles the mix of slice of life and adventure much better than Friendship is Magic. In MLP: FiM, the adventure-based episodes force the characters to stick to their simple personality traits to move the story forward, and character-based ones help them grow. In Ducktales (2017), because the characters regularly go on adventures, they grow as characters no matter the situation. For example, my favorite episode is “The Great Dime Chase” where the main plot is Louie finding Scrooge’s #1 dime after accidentally spending it. While in that same episode, Dewey and Webby try to solve a mystery around the boys’ mom. We get a great lesson about the importance of hard work and a fascinating plot of an overarching mystery within the season, all taking place within the same episode. Both are interesting, neither feels as though it overshadows the other, and the characters develop along the way.

Another thing this show mixes well is comedy and drama. A lot of shows recently tried way too hard to find that perfect mix. Ducktales (2017) is one of the few examples that nails it. The comedy is hilarious, the drama is endearing, and neither feels like it’s prioritized over the other. The show starts off with this mix as well, where others that I’ve talked about seem to start off as purely comedic only to take themselves more seriously later on. That isn’t entirely a bad thing, but I feel as though Ducktales (2017) is the best way to go about the method. That way, fans won’t be complaining about how much “better” the show used to be in its first batch of episodes, much like Star V.S. the Forces of Evil.

Unfortunately, while I recommend this show, it’s not without its fair share of issues. Or rather, issue, as there really is only one problem I have with it. And that problem can be summed up with one name: Dewey Duck. For the most part, I dislike Dewy. Because he’s nothing more than a Ben Schwarts character. No disrespect to Ben Schwarts himself, but lately, it feels as though he only plays the one character from time to time: The egotistical attention seeker slowly and surely learning to be a better person who realizes that not everything is about him. That’s the character he plays in both Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Sonic the Hedgehog (2020), and it’s the character he plays here. And the thing about these characters is that they’re not as lovable as Ben Schwarts thinks they sound. In fact (and, again, I mean no disrespect to the actor. I’m sure he’s a lovely person in real life), every single one of these characters comes off as kind of annoying rather than as the lovable rapscallions I’m sure they’re meant to be. However, there is one thing worth mentioning about Dewey. While he’s portrayed as annoying when used for comedy, Dewey is surprisingly a compelling character when used for drama. The thing is, he’s rarely used for dramatic moments and is meant as a source of comedy. Hence why I said I disliked him for the most part.

Other than that, there aren’t really that many problems with the show. Well, there are, but they’re mostly nitpicks that the series more than makes up for. Is it weird that the kids are voiced by adults? Yes, but the actors do a great job at being sincere and have great comedic timing than any kid could have. Are there changes to characters that fans might not enjoy? Probably, but I have yet to have seen anyone that has annoyed me as much as Dewey has. Are the villains just evil for the sake of being evil? Yes, but that’s not really a big deal. In fact, a villain doesn’t need a heartbreaking backstory as to why they’ve become so evil. They just need to have a great personality that’s fun to watch, which every villain in the show has (aside from season two’s antagonist who’s basically a Disney surprise villain. And I hate them with a fiery passion). Does it feel as though the show suffers from “too many characters” syndrome? It sometimes does, but each character has such a fun and unique personality that I find it hard to forget most of them.

So really, Ducktales (2017) is the best reboot in recent memory. This is crazy, seeing as how lately it feels as though Disney doesn’t even know how to properly reboot their own movies to save their lives. This is why I feel as though people should take notes on what Ducktales (2017) does if they ever feel like rebooting something they loved as a kid. Because this is more than just a retelling of the same story that people know by heart. This is a fantastic show with even better characters, stories, and tone. Whether you’ve been a fan since the beginning, or a part of the new generation of viewers, odds are you’ll be screaming Whoo-Ooo with every episode.

(Also, a word of warning to those who haven’t watched the show yet: Beware the theme song. Trust me when I say it’ll be stuck in your head until the day you die)

[batbirdies]

Alfred + Apples or Alfred + Jim Gordon, please? Thanks for all your lovely writing!

AO3 link

This work is part of a series, but can be read alone. Know that Apples is Jason’s 4 month old puppy.

______

It was a beautiful day out, was the first thing Alfred noted when the sun came up that morning. Unfortunately, as the morning wore on and grew warm enough he might think to spend it out in his greenhouse, it became apparent he could not.

Not after Cassandra had skipped into the kitchen to drink a glass of orange juice and take a protein bar. “Can you watch Apples?” She asked, making a point of swallowing her food before she spoke.

Alfred paused where he was kneading dough, preparing it to prove for the next few hours. He glanced up to find Jason standing a ways back, hovering in the doorway, and raised an eyebrow.

“She wants me to drive her to her dance class. I told her she had to ask you about Apples if she wanted me to. I’d just bring her, I did last time-“

“Someone is allergic.” Cassandra interrupted, setting down her empty glass and popping the last bite of her protein bar into her mouth.

Jason shuffled a little further into the room behind her with a small grimace. “Ended up having to sit in the car with her the whole time. And she’s still gets kinda anxious with that many strangers.”

Alfred looked at Cassandra then, whom he knew was perfectly capable of getting herself to her dance classes, and had for many months before Jason moved back in.

Of course her driving was rather terrifying and they encouraged her to avoid it whenever possible. But beyond that, it was something to get Jason out of the house, which he had been doing very little of as of late.

Alfred had invited him to the store with him a number of times and been politely turned down without exception. He would seem to consider it at first, to mull it over with cautious interest that would quickly diminish, morphing into something hesitant and nervous that he would hide and brush off as not thinking Apples was ready for an outing with so many people yet, or not wanting to leave her in the manor alone when the others were busy.

Of course then he would become overly quiet and obviously frustrated with himself, eventually retreating to his room or the library or risk snapping at one of his brothers or Bruce. Occasionally the cave for some exercise or the outdoors if the weather wasn’t too horrid. It always left Alfred feeling a little out of his depth. He was never one to push but he questioned if a little more encouragement might be a bigger help.

From him - perhaps not. But from Cassandra he thought it might be more successful.

He’d heard them discuss her classes before as well, and she seemed eager to share this with Jason of all of them; perhaps because she saw that he too could benefit in being reminded of the good and harmless things his body was capable of.

“Of course I don’t mind,” he replied in the end, letting go of the idea of spending a peaceful morning mostly outdoors. Cassandra’s class was two hours long and he didn’t doubt she would rope Jason into getting lunch afterward if all went well and truly, Alfred hoped it did. “I’m sure it would be no trouble.”

It was only eight thirty in the morning then, but Cassandra’s class started in just thirty minutes. And so Jason rushed around, getting Apples outside for the toilet before he hurried back inside, toeing his boots off noisily in the mudroom before darting into the kitchen with her. Claws clicked softly on the tile as he slid on his socked feet to the pantry.

He quickly filled her food dish and nearly slid it across the floor where it bumped into the side of the cabinet and spilled a few bits of kibble.

“Master Jason,” Alfred asked, a little exasperated, “are you truly in such a hurry that you cannot set down a food dish?”

“Sorry, I-“ Alfred looked up at the pause, hands still at work. “Don’t like to be late,” he said on a breath, followed by a soft grimace and stiff shoulders.

He was still quite nervous, Alfred realized, a dip of guilt in his chest before he shooed him with his flour coated hands.

“Well, go on then, we’ll be fine. Titus will keep her company, I’m sure I will barely be needed.”

Jason gave him a half smile, one of the crooked kind that always reminded him of when the boy was so much younger; when he first came to the manor and they had been small and unsure.

“I promise I won’t make it a habit of leaving her to you, she won’t need too much watching for much longer anyway and-“

“Master Jason really, I don’t mind at all. I’m glad to see you going out.”

Perhaps a bit too direct, he thought, at the ducked chin and shrugged shoulders. “She’s been asking me for weeks, trying to teach me stuff. I met one of her teachers there last time, they’re nice there. It...seems fun.”  

Alfred nodded, scooping the dough he was working into a ball and setting it gently in a metal bowl. “And you quite deserve it, I think. So go on, I promise I’m not bothered.”

Jason bumped a fist on top of the counter in quick succession, nervous energy leaking out. “Ok, one thing, she does need to take that med around 10-“

“I remember, it’s on the counter right over there, I will handle it.”

One last swallow and nod before he rubbed at the back of his neck and Alfred caught Cassandra’s shadow flit across the doorway; waiting out of sigh, no doubt.

Alfred put both hands on the sides of the bowl, looking up and making direct eye contact. “Master Jason, go have fun, please.”

This time his answering smile was wider, eyes crinkling just slightly at the edges. “Thanks, Alf.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

Cassandra peaked her head around the door just then, grinning when Jason turned around. “Come on, have to speed there.”

“I’m coming, I’ll get us there on time.”

And as Alfred went about covering his dough in cling wrap and a towel, setting it to prove near the stove top he glanced down at the puppy still working away at her breakfast, tail wagging happily.

She was quite sweet really. The only thing being, Alfred had yet to spend much time alone with her. It had been just shy of six weeks since she joined their family, and in such a short time she had lost much of her initial skittishness. They were even taking her out in public now, as Jason had mentioned. As long as one of the family was with her, she was much less nervous.

Alfred though, sadly, was probably her least favorite. Through no fault of his own, mind you. He was usually too busy working in some fashion to sit and properly introduce himself, and the boys and Cassandra always seemed intent on monopolizing her attention.

Of course, Alfred had lived an active life up to this point, and while he appreciated the vigor of a young puppy, he wasn’t sure he quite had the energy for one. Not the way these youngsters ran with her out doors, or played with her toys for hours on end. His best bet, he figured, would be to find Titus and have him run her around outside later.

For now, as she finished up her food, she came around the counter and trotted through the kitchen, around the island and nearly out into the dining room before he had to call her back. She came easily enough, though as Alfred started on cleaning up the counters and she sat down next to the rug he stood on, he thought she looked rather disappointed.

“He’ll be back soon, no need to pout.” At that, she laid down, feet sprawled across the tile, flat on her belly with her head resting on the floor. “Oh my, I dare say it won’t be so terrible without him for a few hours.”

Truly, at this point in his life, Alfred should have known better than to say any such thing.

    *

    Things started off a bit bumpy, but not so terrible.

Apples, by nature, didn’t like being left alone. The plus side to this was that it was never difficult to keep track of her. Without Jason or any of the others there, she didn’t venture anywhere she could not see him.

On the downside however, it was a little difficult to get certain things done.

While he found having a small shadow follow after him wherever he went reminiscent of days long past, the dog was not quite as good at staying out of the way as any of the children had been. He nearly tripped over her on three different occasions while attempting to dust in one of the hallways. This served the double purpose of being mildly frustrating as well as rather guilt inducing; as each time, the poor thing tucked her tail and ears down as if awaiting punishment.

When he knocked his elbow into an antique vase and nearly upended it in order to catch his balance he decided he would be better served to attempt the task later, when someone else was home to keep Miss Apples company.

The dough he’d been making earlier that morning still had plenty of time to prove, but he was never remiss in starting meal preparation early. If the children went out for lunch it generally meant they would be home for dinner and Master Damian had requested a vegetarian dish Alfred had yet to try his hand at. So he ventured back to the kitchen to peruse the recipe and do a bit of prep work.

As he fell into the rhythm of chopping vegetables and premeasuring spices he paused when he felt a weight fall over his feet. Glancing down, he found Apples laid out on the kitchen floor as she had been earlier that morning, but had rested her chin on his feet this time.

He was forced to stretch himself halfway across the counter in order to snag the salt from the top of the oven, but she was rather sensitive and he didn’t want her to think she was in any sort of trouble for it. He couldn’t help but find it rather endearing, even while it restricted his movement.

Thankfully, she seemed to become restless and bored after not too long, letting out little puppy huffs every now and then. So all he had to do was lean back from counter and ask, “Do you want to go outside?” And she was immediately up on her feet and wagging her tail.

“Yes, I can tell,” he mumbled to himself as he began resealing packages and returning items to their proper places until dinner time. “We’ll go find Titus, he can wear you out.”

Titus, though, while rising early to relieve himself and eat his breakfast, was generally back to sleep this time of the morning, and today was no exception. Any attempt to wake him had, so far, been unsuccessful.

Alfred would never admit to attempting to tip him out of his bed when no amount of calling and promises of treats would budge him. While his lack of success had something to do with it, he feared more that he might have strained his back in the attempt, and would rather not hear the uncomfortable speech from Bruce about his age. He was quite fine, thank you.

“Well then, you’ll have to settle for a peaceful walk around the grounds I’m afraid,” he tried not to grumble to the puppy, who’d stood by and barked a few times through Alfred’s efforts to wake the larger dog, but had been no help otherwise. She only wagged her tail now, ears raised as she followed him back down to the mud room.

Jason and the others would take her out in a jacket and no leash, letting her bound around and chase a ball and whatnot.

Alfred, though, was wary of doing so on his own, as she didn’t seem as attached to him as the others, and she was still a bit skittish. He worried something might spook her into running off and he wouldn’t be quick enough to follow after her. And so he went about the trouble of fitting her into her harness, pulling her little padded rain jacket over her head before slipping his own coat and hat on, latching her leash to the harness - and then remembering her medication, sitting on the counter in the kitchen.

“Oh my,” he said to himself, glancing at the clock above the back door. It was a quarter past 10. He hesitated, unsure how long they would be outside but not wanting to risk the delay, though he knew it wouldn’t be long, he went ahead and pulled his boots back off and walked the poor thing back into the kitchen.

It was only an antibiotic, one prescribed after Damian insisted the skin issue she came to them with was not healing properly and they’d managed to have a vet to the house. The privileges of the wealthy and all.

Jason had seemed to be torn between exasperation at the luxury of it, and gratefulness at not having to either go out with her himself, or force her into the universally dreaded environment of the veterinarian’s office.

She was only a few days into the prescription and he really should have read the directions on the bottle, or even simply recounted his own extensive medical knowledge and given it to her with a scoop of kibble, or some other snack. But he did not. Instead, he shook a pill out of the bottle and pressed it into a small piece of cheese before feeding it to her.

But in that moment, none of those things occurred to him, he only shuffled her back into the mud room, and out the back door.

It was rather snowy out, and would likely stay that way for another month before they saw the ground again, but there was a cleared and paved path that wound around the gardens and Alfred took her along that way. It was very brisk, and he tugged his hat low over his ears as they walked, at least enjoying the sun though he thought he may not have spent much time in his gardens after all, not in this chill.

Apples trotted out ahead of him, sniffing at the air and the snow at the edge of the path, rushing side to side in a zig-zag pattern while Alfred took a much more sedate pace behind her.

He did let her into the snow a bit, so that she wouldn’t wee on the pavement, but of course she discovered a hidden tennis ball buried in the snow and rushed back to him with it, wagging her tail insistently. Alfred sighed, eyeing the snow covered land around them. It was unlikely something would frighten her, really, and he could at least do this much.

“Well alright, if you insist.” He bent down, with a little difficulty, his back twinging in warning when he was just a few inches from the ball. He lowered himself very slowly the rest of the way, tugging Apples over while he was already low to the ground and unlatching her leash. He stood back up with careful movements, but seemed alright when he was back to standing.

To hell with age, he thought, as he tossed the ball out into the snow. It wasn’t nearly as far as any of the children would throw it, nor Bruce, but he did not want to put anymore strain on his spine than necessary, just to be safe. Apples didn’t seem to mind as she went bounding after it, only to return in short order, ready for another go.

He consciously loosened his stance before bending down the next time and was relieved to feel no answering twinge. They went about it for just a few short minutes before Apples seemed to have enough, only following the ball with her eyes the last time he threw it before sitting down at his feet and looking up at him.

“Done already are you? All the better for me I suppose.”

He took her a bit further out on the path, waiting until she at least relieved herself before he led them both back inside.

It was then that things went drastically downhill. He went about removing his hat and coat, and then carefully bent down to take off Apples’ coat and harness and untie his shoes. After removing one and setting it near the door, he heard a distinct sound that had him turning around more sharply than he should have.

Before he could make a move to do a thing about it, Apples had retched all over the floor. “Oh dear.”

He made to take a step toward her but that proved to be a mistake when she  cringed down and away from him.

“No-“ he cut himself off before he could finish as her paws went right through her sick, causing her to lose traction all together and slip, sliding her front half straight across it.

With lips pressed thin, Alfred stood very still, one shoe still on. He took a breath, feeling a painful clenching in his chest as he watched her scramble back to her feet and huddle against the wall.

“It’s alright,” he tried to soothe, still not making a move to get any closer. “It’s nothing to be so upset about.” Kneeling down very carefully again, he patted his leg, keeping his voice low and soft. “Apples, come, it’s alright, I promise. You’re in no trouble at all. Come here, please.” He could see her shaking as she finally shuffled across the floor to him, belly low to the ground, tail between her legs, making a wide arch around the mess still on the floor. When she finally came near and he cautiously began to reach forward she rolled over, exposing her stomach, throat bared.

It broke his old-soft heart.

“You poor dear,” he mumbled under his breath. He wasn’t quite sure where to reach, as there was damp-yellow sick pressed into nearly all of her exposed fur.  

After a moment of glancing around he grabbed the spare rag the boys had been using to clean the dog’s feet off and slowly settled it over the mess that was her fur. He tried to gently tug her back to rights but the very action sent her scrambling back to her feet, forcing him to grab her around the middle to stop her from potentially running into the main house covered in vomit.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright.” He soothed, tucking her up to his side, attempting to hold the towel in place to avoid any transfer. He could hear her wheezed breathing, feel how stiff her muscles were in his grip, though she didn’t make a sound.

And so he sat for quite some time, kneeling on one knee in the mud room, with one untied shoe on, and a half grown puppy covered in sick, stroking down her back; about the only clean spot on her.

She did calm down a little after a while, turning her attention to licking at his trousers when she couldn’t reach his hands, as if apologizing. Sadly, there was no way to avoid a bath for her. Thankfully, they were already in the perfect location for one.

There was a large sink up against one wall with an assortment of bottled soaps sat next to it and a stack of towels on a shelf underneath. She would hate it, he thought, and likely be terrified of him for the foreseeable future but there was nothing else for it.

Carefully, he adjusted his grip around her center, shifting the towel once more before he stood up, an alarming zing running up his spine at the movement. He gasped in a breath himself and held very still, only relaxing after enough time had passed and no other pain followed. He walked her over to the sink and more crouched than bent over to set her down.

Removing the towel he made sure she wasn’t likely to climb right out of the sink and stepped briefly away to take care of the mess on the floor. He heard her claws scraping up the bottom of the sink and soft whining breaths, but she didn’t bark.

Alfred steadfastly did not bend to wipe up the floor, instead squatting in an awkward pose and using the already dirtied towel to wipe up the rest of the sick. He would mop later.

The laundry room was just through the doorway and he took only a split second to deposit the towel in the dirty hamper before he kicked off his remaining shoe and returned to the sink. The poor thing was shaking and when he turned on the water it only got worse.

“I promise it will be quick and painless,” he tried to soothe, holding his hand under the stream and waiting for it to warm up. “You’ll right as rain as soon as this is done with and you’ll feel so much better, I promise.”

He did his level best to avoid getting water in her face, moving the spray nozzle to primarily soak her chest and belly before squeezing out some soap and scrubbing it into the dirtied fur. She endured admirably, all things considered, though she continued to retreat to the back of the sink each time he lifted his hands away. “I know, I am your very least favorite person in the world right this moment, but you’ll be so much happier when you’re clean.”

It didn’t take very long, really. He scrubbed and rinsed her twice, paying special attention to her feet the second time around. He managed to shield himself from her full body shake by grabbing a towel just in time and quickly draped it over her, giving her a good scrub with it. “There, it’s already so much better, isn’t it?”

Trouble came a second time when he attempted to lift her out of the tub. His back seized immediately, stars dancing in his vision causing him to nearly drop her and leaving him frozen, half bent over with her wrapped in a towel in his arms. She squirmed just slightly, tail whipping out the bottom of the towel and Alfred mentally cursed his old bones and bad timing.

Putting her on the floor was what did it in the end. The moment he knew he’d pushed things too far and the insistent stabbing pain up through his low back made him gasp, quickly reaching out to grip the edge of the sink. Apples was busy divesting herself of the towel while he underwent the mental math of his next moves.

He needed to sit down, number one, but he needed to take a muscle relaxant first or he would only stiffen up the longer he stayed still. And perhaps an ice pack, he thought.

Walking into the kitchen, back bent at a 45 degree angle, he spared a split second to be thankful no one was there to witness it. Though, if someone had been, he would not be in this predicament to start with.

He had to pause in the doorway from the laundry room, breathing shallow. “You foolish old man,” he muttered under his breath, bracing himself for the last shuffle to the medicine cabinet and the awkward reach he had to make without being able to stand up straight. He swallowed the pill dry rather than bother with getting a glass of water.

After the grueling process of getting an ice pack from the freezer door he was left with the question of where to retire. He wanted nothing more than to retreat to his own rooms, wait out the pain in his back until the relaxants took affect and he could move easily enough to attempt to work out the muscles. But he would have to bring Apples with him, and the others wouldn’t look for him in his rooms.

If they did, it would be because they assumed something was wrong when they couldn’t find him in the main house.

It would worry Jason more than he was willing to, even for his own pride. And so he shuffled into one of the lower level entertainment rooms, not wanting to even risk the stairs. He was afraid initially that Apples would attempt to hide, but she steadfastly followed after him, even after he’d put her through such suffering.

“You are quite a loyal thing, aren’t you?” He mumbled aloud as he very slowly lowered himself onto the couch.

It took some shifting around, but he managed to get the ice pack tucked behind him, pressed into the tight, angry muscles of his low back. The remote, thankfully, was sat precisely in the center of the armrest he sat closest to and as he relaxed, and settled back into the cushions, he turned on the television, hoping for something he could fall asleep to.

Apples had followed him all the way to the couch and only hesitated for a moment before she jumping up after him. She was shivering still, though he hoped it was more from the cold of being wet now than from fear.

Though it wasn’t the more lived in portion of the manor, there was at least a throw blanket draped across the back of the couch and even as restricted as his movement currently was he was able to drag it down and wrap the poor thing up.

“There you are,” he said, running a gentle hand over her head, the only part of her body still exposed. She folded down next to him then, resting her chin on  his thigh this time.

“You still like me after all that, do you?” He could feel the dampness from her fur soaking through his trouser leg slowly, but it was nothing to be bothered with now. Her brown eyes turned to look up at him, a little shiver running through her frame before she burrowed just a little closer. “Well I suppose the feeling is mutual.”

Alfred tucked the blanket in tightly around her, settling one hand on her back as his heart squeezed that little bit. Jason would likely be furious with the comparison but he couldn’t help but be reminded of the boy when he’d first come to the manor.

He distinctly remembered an instance in his early days there, when he’d been in the kitchen with him, trying to help with dinner. Somehow he had spilled a pot of spaghetti sauce and he’d been so panicked to clean it up he’d burned himself badly on the pot and had to be coaxed into just letting either him or Bruce look at his hands. He’d spent over an hour stiff and wide eyed continuing to insist it was an accident repeatedly, as if they didn’t believe him.

Alfred had been concerned it would cause backsliding, more fear, but as the evening wore on and it became apparent there would be no expected punishment he’d ended the night pressed up again Bruce’s side on the couch in the den, watching a movie. It was closer contact than Alfred had seen Jason volunteer for up to that point and it warmed his heart and made it ache all in one; the way he was so cautious but so hungry for safety and love.

He’d never quite lost that caution.

As Alfred tried to ease his sore muscles, running a hand down Apples’ blanketed back and feeling the pull of drowsiness as the muscle relaxants began to take effect, he hoped that she might, and that perhaps in time Jason would as well. They were quite a perfect pair, weren’t they?

    *

    When Bruce arrived home early from WE, he had expected to find both Alfred and Jason home, but when he came into the kitchen through the garage, it was quiet and empty. But that didn’t seem quite right, because the car Alfred usually took into town was still parked in the garage. The one Cass took to her dance classes was gone, but Alfred rarely drove her and when he did, he took his own car, not hers.

And none of that explained where Jason was.

“Alfred? Jay?” He called as he set his briefcase down on the dining room table. It was a long shot, in the manor, likely he would have to do a search by foot.

Jason’s room was empty, as was the den, and when he looked out at the grounds from his bedroom balcony they appeared empty as well. He checked his phone briefly, to see if anyone sent him an update, but there was nothing. They hadn’t been expecting him home yet so he supposed that wasn’t a bad sign per se, but it still left him feeling vaguely uneasy.

He shot a quick text to Jason, to be safe, as he continued through the house, spotting Titus at the foot of the main stairwell as he ventured back down. It was possible Alfred was out in the greenhouse but Bruce now wondered where Apples was too. He supposed he could have taken her with him out there but in the current weather even that would be rather cold for any extended period of time.

“Where is everyone Titus?” He mused when he hit the ground floor, only for the dog to turn and trot down a hall toward the lesser used parts of the manor where they might set up guests if they had any. “What are you-“

Titus had no reason to venture down those halls on his own, and all the doors would be closed anyway, unless someone was down there.

“Alfred?” Bruce called again as he began to follow. Perhaps he had decided to deep clean the lesser used space. Except that the further down the hall he traveled he began to hear something that sounded distinctly like a television, some sort of commercial playing.

He spotted Titus slipping into an open door and followed on silent feet.

What he found left him nearly speechless and warmed from the inside.

Alfred sat on the couch, propped up straight with his head tilted up, resting on the back on the couch, eyes closed, one hand on the remote, the other on Apple’s back where she lay curled up next to him with her head on his leg. Titus had folded himself down in front of the couch, head up and watching Bruce. Quietly he pulled his phone out, but before he even raised it completely he was interrupted.

“If you take that picture you will find your phone missing in short order,” Alfred mumbled to the ceiling before his eyes slit open just enough to give him a soft glare. Bruce suppressed a smile as best he could, but didn’t lower his phone.

“Turnabout is fair-play,” he said, tapping the shutter release.

[erosofthepen]

A Dwarf and his Child

So this is the second chapter of my OC fic, and I think it’s pretty good. Dwalin and Clara travel to the Blue Mountains.

Chapter One

Dwalin didn’t speak very much. But once Clara warmed up to him, he had no choice but to listen. She spoke very openly and it rarely ceased. But it wasn’t as annoying as it was endearing. She would ask very inquisitive questions for such a young girl, and Dwalin could tell she was very bright. In two weeks he learned much about her. And she learned much about where she was going to live.

“Are there any other children I can play with?”

“Aye. Actually, I’ve made arrangements with my friends sister, and you’ll be with her and her two boys while I am away.”

“Boys?’’ Clara said with a face. Dwalin chuckled.

“That bother ye?’’

“Boys are yucky.”

“Indeed they are. But these two are plenty of fun to be around and no doubt you’ll get into all sorts of trouble with them.”

‘’How old are they?’’

“One’s about your age. 32, no? His name is Kili. The other is just a few years older, he’s 38 and named Fili. You’ll be thick as thieves.”

“Thieves are bad!”

“Just a saying lass.”

“Oh. Wait. Kili and Fili? They sound just the same!”

“You’ll tell them apart, no worries.”

“How?’’

“Kili has brown hair, Fili’s a blond.”

Claira narrowed her eyes and was quiet for a bit.

“I’ve got it! Fili the fair! Because he has blonde hair. Now I won’t forget. Though, i’ll have to think of something for Kili. There’s no words for brown hair that start with K.”

Dwalin smiled and nodded before leaning back and taking a draw from his pipe.

The Blue Mountains looked very intimidating to a little one. Clara and Dwalin rode their way through different villages and rocky paths. Finally, just after noon one day, the two of them arrived at a village populated with mostly dwarrow. They stopped on the outskirts of town at a little house made of oak.

“Is your hole underneath?” Clara asked.

“Hole?”

“Yeah, your hole. Where you live.”

“Ah. Lass, we live in houses. Not holes. Holes are for hobbits and rabbits.’’

“Oh.”

“You’ll get used to it lass, don’t ye worry.”

“Alright.”

“Afternoon Brother! How was the journey?” A voice called. Clara looked over at the house and standing in the doorway was a grey-haired dwarf with a long beard and red robes.

“Afternoon! We fared just fine.” Dwalin called in return, getting off the pony before helping Clara off.

“Is this the wee lass then?” The grey dwarf asked, making his way over.

“Aye. Clara’s her name. Clara, this is yer Uncle Balin, or Irak’adad Balin, if you will.”

“Earackadad?” She questioned, jumbling the word.

“Irak’adad. It means uncle in the language of dwarves. You’ll learn.”

Clara narrowed her eyes and looked Balin up and down.

“I’m just going to call you Uncle Balin.”

The older dwarf chuckled.

“That’s quite all right. Tell me, did you have a good journey Clara?”

“Indeed I did. I didn’t think the mountains would be so big, but they were absolutely huge. In Hobbiton, there’s no mountains at all, did you know that? But there’s plenty of hills. I lived in the biggest hill, Bagend. Well, sometimes I did. Mostly I lived in Tuck-burough, but my family there didn’t like me very much. They kept calling me a bastard, whatever that means. I don’t think it means something very good. We also live in Holes, but I suppose dwarves don’t. Are houses very cozy?”

Balin looked a bit taken back by her speech, but smiled nonetheless.

“Aye, I think ours is cozy enough. I’ve made up a room for you, and made sure to find the warmest blankets in Ered Luin.”

“I get my own room?” She asked with wide eyes.

“Aye, would ye like me to show ye?”

“Yes indeed!” She said excitedly.

Balin looked up at his brother.

“We’ll meet inside?”

“Aye, shouldn’t take long to unpack.”

Balin took Clara’s hand and led her up the steps. The inside of the house was large, and there were three rooms on the bottom floor. One was the bathroom, another was the study, and the third was Balin’s room. The space that wasn’t closed off was the hearth, table, pantry, and kitchen. There was a stairway that led up to the upstairs.

“That’s where ye and Dwalin be sleeping. He has a room and I’ve added yours.”

Balin eagerly led her up the stairs and opened the door to her room. There was a small bed in the corner and a wardrobe, as well as a vanity with a mirror, with a handsomely woven rug on the wood floor. But Clara wasted no time in letting Balin know her favorite part.

“That’s a ginormous window!” She said, letting go of his hand and crawling up on the bed to press her nose against the glass. It was chilly in the autumn weather but she could see the mountains and forrest’s.

“Aye, I installed it just last week. You like it lass?”

She nodded vigorously.

“I’ve never seen one so big! Not even in the Brandybuck’s lands!”

“I’m glad ye like it.”

They heard thumping coming up the stairs and Dwalin came in with her pack and lambie.

“Right. Let’s get you unpacked and then some luncheon.”

Balin had fished for lunch and they had some nice, plump, rainbow trout. When Balin was dishing the meal out, Dwalin interjected.

“She’s going to need a bit more than that, brother.”

“It’s already a plenty large portion!”

“She’s half-hobbit. Their appetites are something to be feared. And she is a growing girl.”

During luncheon, they spoke of taking Clara to the markets the next day to get fitted for warmer clothes.

“This isn’t the Shire, after all. Those dainty wee dresses won’t do much to keep out the frost.”

“Aye. And we’ll have to get her a pair of boots. Did she go bare-foot this whole way?”

“That’s the way of hobbits. Though, she has more cuts and bruises than I like to see. Seems like she didn’t inherit the hobbit feet.”

“Seems so. Oh, did ye tell her we’re dining with Thorin, Dis, and the lads tonight?”

“No, but might as well tell her now.”

“Can I meet Kili and Fili?” Clara asked, interrupting them.

“Of course lass. You know of them already?”

“Dwalin told me. Are they really princes?”

Balin and Dwalin exchanged a look.

“Aye, they are. In title at least.”

Clara shrugged and bit into a roll before letting her mind wander while the brothers talked.

After luncheon, Balin and Dwalin agreed to draw with Clara.

“Bilbo and I always drew after lunch, while Aunt Bella was cleaning up. She got me some fine charcoal from a craftsman and a sketchbook. They should be up in my room, Let me go get them!”

The brothers were certainly impressed by Clara’s skill. It wasn’t as if she could draw portraits, but it was far better than your average 32 year old.

“Ye must get it from your Adad,” Balin commented. Indeed, despite Dwalin’s fierce manner, he always was the most careful with crafting, and patterns and art in silvers and golds were his specialty.

They spent much of the afternoon drawing (with a snack or two in between), before they got ready to sup. Balin helped Clara choose an outfit and Clara sat patiently as Dwalin braided her hair half up, down the back. At 5 o’clock, they left the house and walked to the other side of the village, coming to stop at probably the grandest of houses. Balin knocked thrice and soon the door was flung open and they were greeted by a Dwarrow with beautiful brown hair. She hugged both the brothers and kissed their cheeks before smiling broadly at Clara.

“And what’s your name Lass?’’

“My name is Clara Took.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Clara. My name is Dís. I hear you are the same age as my son Kili, is that so?”

“Dwalin said he’s thirty three, and I’m thirty three, so it is true!”

A sudden shriek and shouting came from somewhere in the house. Dis closed her eyes and sighed.

“There be the boys now. They’re playing fox and rabbit, but I’m sure they have room for one more.”

“I love fox and rabbit! I always got chosen to be the fox whenever I played with my friends in Hobbiton.”

“That’s very well, my dear. Come in, come in.”

Clara, Balin and Dwalin stepped over the threshold and were nearly run into by two blurs of blue and brown.

“Boys!” Dis scolded. The two of them stopped and turned to look at their mum and the guests.

“Is that the girl?!” Kili asked excitedly. Dis was about to reply when Clara answered for her.

“I’m Clara! You must be Kili, since you have dark hair. Dwalin said you have dark hair and Fili has blonde hair!”

“Hi Clara!” Fili and Kili said as one.

“We’ve never had a friend our age! I mean, a friend whose a girl our age! A girl who is our age! You’re pretty special! What’s your favorite game? I hope you like hide-and-seek! That’s my favorite. Fili likes fox and rabbit, but he always wins because he’s a whole lot stronger and faster. But he won’t be for long. I’ll bet I’m taller than him one day!”

“You wish! I’ll always be taller than you, because I’m older than you!” Fili said.

“Boys,” a new voice said. All three of the children turned to look at a dwarf with black curly hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Hi.” Clara said shyly. The dwarfs glare turned into a smile as he met Clara’s eyes.

“Hello there lass. What’s your name?”

“My name is Clara. And you have got to be King Thorin! Adad said you’re the bravest King ever born!”

Thorin smile faltered for but a moment and his eyes flickered to Dwalin’s before coming back to Clara.

“He exaggerates. You may just call me Thorin.”

“Oh, alright!”

“Why is your voice like that?” Kili asked.

“Like what?”

“The way you talk, it’s so different!”

“That’s because she’s from a hundred miles away Kee!” Fili said with a sure nod, “All people from far away sound different.”

“Oh okay.”

“You sound different to me too. No hobbits talk like you!” Clara said.

“Hobbits are like rabbits, right?” Kili asked.

“Not at all!”

“Don’t you live in strange burrows?”

“No, we live in hobbit-holes!”

“In the ground?’ Fili asked.

“Yes, In the ground.”

“Then you are a rabbit!”

“No I’m not!”

“Oi!” Dwalin called. “That’s enough I think. Best to stop arguing.”

“Aye,” Thorin agreed. “How about you two show Clara your toy chest?”

“Great idea!”

The older dwarves all watched in amusement as Kili and Fili both grabbed Clara’s hands and dragged her away down the halls.

Chapter Three

[living-dead-parker]

Day 3: Recital (12DOC)

Summary: Morgan has a school performance and she’s the star of the night. Also, Peter drops a bomb on you and more confessions are made. 

Warnings: cussing maybe and mentions of baby talk, also fluff!!

Word Count: 1,4k

A/N: I suck at updating this year. Not my gif, credit goes to the owner! Also, I would die for Morgan Stark

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

"Morgan, stay still, please," Pepper pleads as she attempts to get the dress on the small girl standing in front of her. Morgan giggled, shaking her head as she continues to think this is all a game. But the truth is that Pepper is ready to throw hands with this kid. Nonetheless, Pepper manages to get the red Santa Claus dress on Morgan. Along with it, some black tights and black boots. Her hair is put into pigtails and a red bow on her head. It was her teacher-approved outfit for tonight's recital.

"Mommy, why does Y/N get to wear the cute dress?" Morgan whines as you enter the little girl's bedroom.

"Because I'm not the one performing," you tell her as you take a seat on her bed. "You have a matching dress you can wear another day, M. Don't you like your dress?"

"All the other girls are wearing it."

"And?"

"I don't want to wear what all the other girls are wearing," Morgan states matter of factly. "It's a cute dress, but I don't want to have to wear it too."

"It's just for this one show," you tell her, helping Pepper get Morgan dressed for the night. Pepper gives you a thankful smile. "It'll be fun and you got the lead during Must Be Santa, so that's pretty big," you continue to tell her. Morgan shrugs, not really caring anymore at this point. There's no arguing with these people.

"Alright Morgan, daddy is gonna drop you off and we'll see you in two hours, okay sweetie?" Pepper asks her. Morgan nods, wrapping her arms around her mother.

"Break a leg, Morg."

"Break yours, you meanie!"

You giggle, remaining in your place as Pepper walks off. However, a minute later, you're turning off the lights and closing the door as you exit the room. Walking down the hall to your bedroom, you take it all in. Christmas is in 17 days and you're pretty excited about it. You're especially excited to see Morgan's reaction to her present you'll be giving her.

Everyone's surprised to hear Morgan is your sister and not your child. With how you treat her and take care of her, how she clings to you and loves to be with you, it's almost like she's your kid. In a sense, she is. You're always taking care of her, even when you don't need to. She just loves being around you and Peter. Part of you thinks it's because she has a tiny crush on Peter at the moment. Though, when she grows up, she'll look back on it grossed out when she begins to really figure out the relationship. And Peter, well, he's so sweet. He's like Morgan's best friend and vice versa. You always love watching them interact and hang around. You love walking into your room and seeing Morgan talking Peter's head off about Paw Patrol or Vampirina. He's always so kind to her and so expressive with her. They're your two favorite people, along with Tony and Pepper. Absolute top favorite, at least.

Anyway, you go back to your room, deciding to finish getting ready for the event. You'd all decided to dress up a bit to make it feel very serious and important for Morgan. Make this her event even though it's a school thing. Recitals and performances are her jam. In your room, you decide to put on some makeup and fix your hair. You're dressed in a red and green elf dress with reindeer on it and you have some peppermint print tights on underneath.

Suddenly, your bedroom door is opening and in walks Peter. He's smiling his usual cheesy smile that you love so much. He's dressed in an ugly Christmas sweater and some black jeans. "Hey Y/N/N, it's time," he calls out to you. "Everyone's heading down to the cars," he adds. You nod, standing up and heading over to him.

You hook your arm through his, following his lead down to the car garage where everybody is hopping in cars. You and Peter wind up riding with Tony and Pepper. Everyone else follows Tony to the school. Really, it's just a five-minute drive to the school, and you all could have walked. Also, there was no need for all the flowers in the car, but this is Morgan Stark. It's kind of a big deal because she's kind of a big deal. Nonetheless, when you all arrive, you all get out and walk into the elementary school as one big happy family.

Obviously to some, you're all intimidating, and to others, you're all a big deal. Literally their superheroes. So, the stares cast from every direction don't shock you. However, as people continue to stare, you begin to worry that Morgan will think that you're all stealing the spotlight from her. You all manage to take up one whole row, but there is still plenty of space for others to sit, so you don't worry.

Ten minutes later, the lights are turning off but the stage lights and the kindergarten class comes out to perform a rendition of I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas, but it was all mostly coming out as humming followed by 'pippopotums for Christmas,' which everyone found adorable.

"What if one day," Peter leans in to whisper in your ear, a giggle escaping his lips. "We pop one out?" he asks. Your eyes widen before looking over at him. "Obviously n-not now," he stammers as he takes in the sight of your expression. "In the future."

"You really want to have kids with me?" you ask him quietly, trying not to be rude. But, this is a bomb being dropped on you. All so sudden too. Children were never really a topic of discussion. Not once has either of you brought the topic up at all and it was odd to you. He was the one to bring it up and you find it endearing but terrifying all at the same time.

"I mean, yeah," he says as he shrugs softly. "I think it would be nice to have a little us running around. Maybe two or three," he says. Oh, he's in for the long run, or at least a long run. Not that you aren't, and you know kids aren't the reason a couple should have to stay together. But ideally, for you, if you're going to start a family, you want it to last your lifetime. "It's just something to think about in the future, but I really enjoy where we are now and we can cross that bridge when we get there."

Nodding, you turn to look back at the stage to see the whole kindergarten class leaving and being replaced by the first-grade classes. Morgan's is the second of the two groups to go up and in total, there are sixty kids in her group. The sound of Feliz Navidad begins playing and you can hear Morgan really belting those notes.

You giggle before pulling your phone out to take pictures of your little sister. She looks like a natural up on stage, and though it's due to her being a literal kid getting the spotlight, you think it suits her. She's a natural and begs for attention all the time. The stage is her world, even if she doesn't know it yet. She is a star.

Once the song is over, another little tune begins playing and Morgan steps forward, facing sideways to look at her peers and at the audience. Her stage presence is immaculate.

"Who's got a beard that's long and white?" she asks in a sing-songy voice. The class responds in the same singing tone and the song continues, with Morgan leading them with all the grace in the world. She gives it her own little flare and you giggle every time she does something cute. Once the song is over, the kids all bow and exit the stage. After that, only the second and third-grade classes followed. Fourth through sixth get the spring show.

All of you wait outside for Morgan and when she arrives, you all cheer for her. Every one of you gets on a knee and bows to Morgan, who just smiles and bows. She goes around collecting flowers and hugs from everyone and you even make her sign an autograph for you. Overall, you were all cheering on her performance, wanting to encourage her. It genuinely was good.

On the ride home, she tells you all about her time backstage and you listen with careful ears, thinking about how you can't wait to do this with Peter one day. It's a scary thought, but you trust Peter with your heart and your life.

"Well, I just want to say, Morgan sweetie," Tony says from the driver's seat as he drives everyone to the nearest IHOP. "You were a little flat, but overall really good."

"Then if I was good, I wasn't flat."

Send in feedback, requests, and asks, please!!!

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

The Ballroom

Ao3,  MasterPost

Relationships: Roceit

I know how to write Roman, in theory. In practice, it takes hours to get right. And yet, I love him. Oh! And I actually remembered to insert the italics this time, so, you’re welcome :3.

Warnings: Self-Doubt, Delusions/Hallucinations (they r not that bad), slight Trust Issues (Janus, obvs), Established Relationships, First ‘i love you’, Mentions of Greek Mythology, References to Musicals (Hadestown Hadestown Hadestown!! they sing Wedding Song together ok??), and I vaguely imply that Roman has ADHD because of course I do. 

Word count: 2,443

Every side had a room. Duh, common knowledge. The inhabitants of the Mindscape constantly barged in and out of each other’s domains without so much as a knock, usually to no more reaction than an irritated sigh. It wasn’t like it was a big deal to anyone, much like an actual family. If a trait wanted absolute privacy, well, they always had somewhere else to retreat to.

Thus brings us to the Extensions. It was well understood that you never visited one without express permission from the side who owned it. They were entirely personal settings, specific to the ‘individual’ that used it. The Extensions shifted and changed over time, just as each side’s representation, outlook, and even definition changed, but there had been a certain consistency upheld throughout the last three or four years. 

Roman’s was a theater, beautiful and ornate with a high-ceiling and perfect lighting, which of course always followed him. Logan’s was a planetarium, allowing the user to view any part of the night sky, and providing essentially all known information on astrology for those that wanted it. Patton had a garden, always filled with fresh produce and hundreds of different types of flowers; humble fountains and birdbaths were dotted along the narrow brick path that ran through the large space, at which he could often be found resting with a bunch of chrysanthemums. Remus’ was, predictably, a museum filled with almost innumerable odd and grotesque objects and devices from history- it also served as an art gallery, on occasion, offering a strange sort of beauty. Virgil’s had changed the most over the years, but it had seemed to settle on something of a vinyl record library, complete with bean bag chairs to lounge in while you listened: perfectly fitting for the hipster emo that he was at heart.

And that left Janus. Of course, no one besides the snake himself had ever seen his Extension, and for a good long time he’d intended it to stay that way. It was his business and nobody else’s- why should he want to invite someone into such a personal environment? 

But then he went and made the mistake of falling for just the someone to answer that rhetorical question. Someone who would surely be overjoyed to see it, and whom Janus loved dearly enough to maybe possibly let him.

It was a ballroom. Obviously Roman would love something like that. 

When Janus first began contemplating showing his boyfriend the Extension, he’d wanted to do something along the lines of a masquerade. He quickly deemed it excessive for Roman’s first visit, though. Just a standard setting, then! But, no, Janus didn’t want to have any of his prop people distracting his very easily distracted partner, so that was out of the question. So he would stay simple. Simple didn’t get a big reaction. Simple could be brushed under the rug if it went somehow awry (and was also less likely to go awry). Simple let him breathe.

Yet somehow it remained terrifying. Honestly, Deceit was second-guessing letting Roman in even as he was leading them down the lengthy hallway, feeling regret clawing at him with each muffled thump of his heeled boots on the carpet. 

“I want to show you something.”

“Oh? And what would that be, Loveliest Lie of All?” 

“You’ll see when we get there. Come along, before I change my mind.”

Janus extended a gloved hand, which Roman took with enthusiasm. He was raring to go without even the slightest idea what they were doing. It was a hopelessly endearing quality. 

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it but half as much as you.”

“Only half?” Janus teased, narrowly avoiding returning the ‘L’ word, yet again (he wanted to, God did he want to, but the word died on his tongue every time).

Roman didn’t bat an eye at his deflection, merely leaning forward with a sappy smile.

“Naturally; nothing can match you, my dear.”

Yeah, no, he was committed now. This was, without a doubt, happening. Janus continued to lead his boyfriend along the hall, fielding all questions until they finally came upon the door. It was far taller than the ones around it, colored a bright canary-yellow. The trait took a deep breath and turned to Roman, whose face was bright with recognition as to what kind of entryway this was.

“This is your-”

“Yes.”

“You’re really going to show me-”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Roman traced a hand down the door frame, as if it would shatter at a firmer touch. His eyes were wide with excitement, a grin stretching across his lips.

Janus felt as though his stomach were doing cartwheels.

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” It was a genuine question; Deceit was open to suggestions for reasons to wait. But Roman clearly hadn’t picked up on the hesitance, too caught up in his own exuberance. 

Janus took a deep breath. He pulled the door open, and the two sides were immediately enveloped by brilliant golden light.

The ballroom was a showy place, which mightn’t have seemed to be the deceitful trait’s nature, at first glance- but, oh, did Janus adore just a dash of gaudiness. 

Roman already knew this about him. Roman knew a lot of things that took a careful eye and a lot of trust. 

Janus took the first step forward, holding Creativity’s hand in his and leading him into the baroque construct. The door snapped shut behind them, leaving them in glowing light cast down from crystalline chandeliers. Above them arched the ceiling, displaying murals of greek myths in perfect detail. The paintings danced and shifted around each other, even moving down the walls, as they played out dozens of ancient stories. It was like an animated oil painting, however impossible that would sound to a real human. 

Soft music filled the ballroom, drifting around the pair. Janus usually dressed his Extension up with fake guests; people of his own design for him to talk and laugh with. It felt safe, reassuring even, to be completely in control of things, including your compatriots. But now, the room was empty, save for him and his real guest. Janus turned his gaze back to Roman, trying to disguise his nervousness.

“Well?” 

Roman crosses his arms over his chest. He clicks his tongue, giving the surroundings a sweeping glance. At best, he’s unimpressed, at worst, he’s outright disdainful. 

“All that buildup, really, for this? What is even the point of such an Extension, Janus?” Roman’s intricately designed shoes clack against the hardwood floor as he further examines the room. He stops in the center, whirling to face Janus. “I’d hoped that this big reveal would make up for all of your other failings as a partner, but I suppose you’re just fated to disappoint me! And it took you months to show me this waste of architecture? Now, that’s just pathetic.”

With a scoff, Roman leaves. 

The scene Janus had unconsciously played came to an abrupt end. He staggered, blinking his eyes back into focus. Roman wasn’t looking down at him, gaze cold and unwavering; rather, he was spinning around the room as he drank in the decorations. He quite looked like he’d never had a malicious thought in his entire life, joyful as he was.

“Oh, Jay, this is gorgeous! Not as much as you, of course- but it is just astounding,” he beamed at Janus, who offered a smirk in return and rolled his mismatched eyes (though he could feel the human side of his face flush bright at the compliment). Before he had a proper response, however, Roman’s gaze caught on something behind him. The trait crossed the room in just a few strides. 

“Is that…?”

Janus turned on his heel and followed, his eyes landing on the painting that distracted his prince. The tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, a colorful-yet-accurate depiction, ‘painted’ in a somewhat impressionist style. It was easily one of Janus’ favorite myths; evidently Roman was a fan just the same. 

“I’m glad you like it,” the honesty was bitter on his tongue. It was well worth it. “I find mythology inspiring, to say the least.” 

Creativity ran his hand along the mural, a giddy laugh escaping him. Without the slightest of warnings, he spun around and grabbed one of Janus’ hands in both of his.

“Lover, tell me, if you can- who’s gonna buy the wedding bands? Times being what they are. Hard and getting harder all the time,” his singing was elated and bubbly, the lilt of one well-familiar with the lyrics he recited. Janus laughed and leaned into his partner. 

“You want to be Eurydice?”

“Just play along!” 

Janus sighed, far too fond for the exasperation he’d been aiming for, and pulled Roman in close. He settled his hands at The Prince’s hips, leading them in a mostly formless dance.

“Lover, when I sing my song, all the rivers sing along. And they're gonna break their banks for me, to lay their gold around my feet. All a-flashing in the pan, all to fashion for your hand. The river’s gonna give us the wedding bands,” once, Roman had told him his voice was honey, slow and sweet. That conversation came back to him, bringing a lanquidity to his singing just so he could soak in the lovestruck expression it earned him. 

“Lover, tell me, if you're able, who's gonna lay the wedding table? Times being what they are. Dark and getting darker all the time.”

Their simply patterned steps led them in wide circles around the room. Janus subconsciously let the jazz that usually rang across his ballroom slip away, only to be replaced with the instrumentals to their ballad. 

“Lover, when I sing my song, All the trees gonna sing along, And bend their branches down to me, To lay their fruit around my feet. The almond and the apple, And the sugar from the maple. The trees gonna lay the wedding table.” 

And so on they continued for the song’s duration- taking their turns with the lyrics, eyes only for each other despite the beauty of their surroundings.

When Janus reached the last line, he drew out the note until his voice faded to nothing more than a lingering hum of the tune. Softly, his standard background music returned to accompany them as the remnants of their duet slipped away. 

They eased to a gentle sway. Roman dropped his head onto Janus’ shoulder with a sigh.

“Thank you.”

“What for, my dear?”

“Bringing me here. Trusting me,” Creativity mumbled into his collar. 

“Of course,” Janus whispered, letting go of the side’s hips to properly wrap his arms around him. 

Roman raised his head, just enough to look Deceit in the eyes. 

“I love you,” he announced, open and honest and completely unexpectant- everything that Janus wasn’t. It was the same way he always said it; with a fierceness as though he was proving his point in an argument, yet somehow remaining gentle and caring. A mere statement, one that never even hinted at a need for response. It simply was, a fact thrown into the world with reckless abandon. 

Nothing terrified Janus more. But, between the duet and Roman’s reaction to the Extension, Janus felt something a bit more foreign than fear welling in him. 

Bravery.

“I love you, too.”

Roman pulls back from their embrace, a cruel laugh falling from his lips. He fixes Janus with a patronizing glare.

“Oh, you love me, do you? You sure know how to show it,” he taunts, backing further away from the snake. There is something dark that glints behind his eyes. “I only tell you that I love you a million times a day, to radio silence, and it’s only now you deign to reciprocate? Barely any fanfare, as though such a confession alone makes up for all the doubt you’ve brought me?”

Janus tries to speak, to make use of and flaunt his eloquence, to orchestrate those perfect sentences to craft himself some semblance of a defense. But all he can do is choke. 

“I don’t know why I ever expected better from you. It’s obvious that you can’t change, Deceit.”

And Roman leaves. 

Except he didn’t. It wasn’t real. Janus squeezed his eyes shut for just a second, blinking them open to see the real Roman- who, thankfully, seemed to be too preoccupied to take note of his… episode.

Roman was wide-eyed, completely still in Janus’ arms. He tilted back, and for a petrifying second the deceitful side thought he really was going to let go, but thankfully he didn’t go far. The Prince gripped tightly to Janus’ shoulders, holding on as if to keep himself steady. He let out a shaky laugh- soft and reverent and nothing like his nightmare version’s cackle. Because he wasn’t that, despite what Deceit’s mistrusting mind would try to convince him. 

“You said it,” Roman said at last, his voice small but his smile wide.

“I’m aware,” finally, am I right? Janus bit his tongue on that. I’m sorry, he couldn’t find the strength to say. I mean it, I’ve meant it for so long, please believe me, also went unspoken. What he settled on was:

“This is the easiest thing in the world for me.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Why? You tell me-” a shiver chased down his back, “-you tell me you love me a million times a day.”

“Yes, I do that. I suppose it’s just in my nature, after all. Regardless, it would be wrong of me to expect you act like me, because you’re you. And ‘you’ happens to be someone I love very, very much.”

Janus let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. 

“... I love you, too.”

Roman chuckled, bonking his nose against Janus’ affectionately.

“Two in one day? I must be the luckiest man in the world.”

“Shut up, I’m only to make up for lost time. Don’t get used to it.”

“Of course not, my love.” 

Janus sighed- relief, mostly, but infatuation crept its way into the sound. He picked up humming to the light melodies that played, resuming the swaying movements that had been forgotten in the face of confessions. Roman followed his lead, his grin delightfully infectious. 

“We should get back soon,” the artistic trait admitted, sounding very much like he considered it someone else’s problem- one that he did not intend on concerning himself with, at that. Janus hummed, feigning deep thought. He let his head fall against Roman’s shoulder, eyes falling closed as he responded. 

“Just one more song, Darling?” 

“Oh, if you insist.”

“Insist I do.” 

Roman stayed.

@shrimp-crockpot

[talltales]

pair:   mark / reader desc:   and he has never seemed more human         than he does in this moment, mourning         as he is released from the binds of gravity words:  1.5k+ rated:  14+ genre:  romance notice: departures/bittersweet things gifted: to whoever needs it

            —I'VE GOT NOTHING LEFT TO LIVE FOR, GOT NO REASON YET TO DIE                 BUT WHEN I'M STANDING IN THE GALLOWS, I'LL BE STARING AT THE SKY

                                    “so… you’re going now?”

there is no need to ask, she knows. but the question drives away the quiet, just the same. like a specter, it looms above their heads and consumes all of their intangible things—

“guess so,” he glances heavenward for a minute, before releasing a heavy breath. the curling of his fingers into fists at his sides belies his indifferent tone, though she can’t look. not at him, and not right now. “we—I always knew this was coming.”

things like her hope.

things like his patience.

“lucky you.”

mark hears it, even beneath the blaring of ambulance sirens in the distance. the trader joe’s parking lot is hardly the place to have this discussion; to watch him leave at two in the morning like he’s getting into a cab after a night on the town—but there it is. this is the culmination of years spent pining after the most unattainable man she could possibly find.

‘i’m going to aim a little higher,’ she’d declared, after a disastrous summer crush when she was fifteen. it had, like most things in her life, ended in tears.

she’d really outdone herself this time.

“i’ve delayed it long enough,” he bites out, spinning on his heel again to repeat his narrow path. the parking space barely contains him and the chaos that follows his every step; beneath his boots, the remnants of a midnight rainstorm circle—drops flowing skyward in blatant disregard for the laws of physics.

he doesn’t seem to notice.

of course, mark carries a little magic everywhere because he was made that way, stern and immutable, long before she was a thought in her mother's head.

his expression softens. she watches his fingers stretch, working away the tension that seems to have taken up residence underneath her ribcage instead.

is breathing supposed to be this hard?

“i’m sorry.“

“why?” softly, she threads her fingers through the hair at her nape and forces her voice to stay even, “you were supposed to take me to the movies next week. you were supposed to be my date for that stupid graduation party, and you can’t walk me home if you’re literally millions of miles away!”

you can’t kiss me goodnight, she almost says—aware of the knot forming in her throat even as her voice echoes across the cold, empty lot. it is a small consolation that they’re alone, cloaked in the light of fluorescent lamps and the stars.

somewhere out there, he has a home.

it's not here. it's not here.

she can still taste the rain; can still feel it soaking down to her bones. the next storm is minutes away—the thunder rolls behind the clouds as if the earth itself is protesting his departure.

he deflates before her eyes, shoulders slumping in a way that would be comical if it were any other day. any other time.

it isn’t.

here they are.

“it was bound to happen,” he moves closer, letting her name fall as a sigh—an admonishment and a praise wrapped into a single sound that makes her heartbeat stutter in the most painful way, “you know this. you knew it when i told you.”

for every ounce of youth that his face holds, his eyes are as old as the moon and just as bright. he looks just the way he did when she was fourteen.

fifteen. seventeen. nineteen.

mark has always bore the weight of their world with grace, though gravity’s hold on him has always been a little tenuous. he drifts instead of walking, dances less than an inch above the ground; near but always always out of reach.

truthfully, he was never really meant for earth.

his presence on the planet, he said, was a fantastic accident; the best possible consequence of his own miscalculations.

“i wish you hadn’t told me,” she says, as if she hadn’t already known—it was impossible not to notice how time left him untouched as the years went by, or any of the other ways that he casually defied what it meant to be human.

and it was easy because he wasn’t.

“you don’t,” unapologetically, he hums. the pressure of his fingertips at her temples is the only thing that soothes her. and while he is still inept with words, the things that he wants to say come through touch—a light brush to her shoulder, well done; a squeeze of her fingers, it’s okay.

his lips follow his fingertips, kissing the corner of her brow. it isn’t clear what that means yet, but her heart clenches anyways.

“why are you crying?” he asks, as if he’s inquiring about the weather. and she rushes to wipe away the tell-tale tracks with her sleeve, ignoring the juxtaposition between his bland tone and gentle kisses.

“i won’t see you again, or hear you again.”

his fingers slowly slide through her hair, sorting the wet strands as the rain slowly begins to fall again, “wait, i have something for you.”

undeterred by the cold droplets trailing down his back, he drifts to his car—a blue honda undoubtedly older than she is—and digs around in the glove compartment for a moment before emerging with a hunk of silver plastic.

a phone.

“someone gave this to me years ago. they said that it could withstand basically anything.”

with a proud little smile, mark holds it out for her to take. even before she looks at it, it is apparent the nokia is from decades past and has the scuffs to match. still, she runs her fingers along the edges—biting back a soft, sad laugh.

“unless you know something that i don’t, there’s no reception in outer space.” her head shakes, willing away the urge to cry—in lieu of giving in, she turns the weighty device in her hand and looks back at him, “it’d be more useful for clubbing someone to death.”

his head tilts.

“but thank you.”

“you’re welcome,” his lips quirk in the most endearing way, and again she is struck by how much she’ll miss him.

there is a moment of silence between them then, punctuated only by the downpour—the water pools at their feet, touching the bottoms of his soles as he floats above the asphalt.

with each passing minute, he seems to rise a little higher.

his gaze drifts over her face, in a searching way that narrows her focus to him—has her breath catching in her throat, “what is it?”

“i think that i understand,” mark seems to be testing the words on his tongue; his lips part soundlessly once, then twice, before he speaks, “what you mean when you say you’ll miss me.”

she grips the phone tighter and feels the hard buttons digging into her palm.

“when i go,” he says, as if he’ll be back tomorrow. he's just taking a cab home. he reaches out, and his fingers slide between hers, gripping lightly, “i want to see your face.”

and for all of the years that she’s known him, she’d never expected mark to ask her this—to watch him leave her behind. but this, she realizes, is why they’re standing in a trader joe’s parking lot at two in the morning.

so he can vanish into the cosmos with just one witness to his departure.

and if mark tuan is anything, it is practical.

“i’ll watch you go.” she says, as if saying the words doesn’t split her heart into pieces. the words emerge thickly; laden with bittersweet honey. her eyes flutter closed.

“do you promise? you won’t look away?”

her teeth sink into the inside of her cheek.

“didn’t i say i would?” his hands are squeezing again, tugging until she stands in the circle of his arms. mark is warm, even as the rain pours ever harder, as cold as ice. she whispers to his collarbone, “i promise.”

because i have loved you for years.

“you always were my favorite human,” he laughs. she feels the sound move through his chest, emerge from the column of his throat—she curls her fingers into his shirt, tightening her grip until her knuckles are pale and the skin is pulled taut over her bones.

i’m yours. i’m yours. i’m yours.

“i’ll be back,” the assurance is murmured against her hair, between soft kisses that she feels to the tips of her toes when everything else is numb, “you haven’t seen the last of me.”

she shakes her head, tilting her head back to press her lips to his chin—all too aware of the way that his body feels buoyant in her grasp. he is winning his fight against gravity, at last.

his hands glide up to cup her face—his boots hover a foot off the ground now, then two. three.

“i’m not like you. i won’t live forever.”

she watches him dutifully, past the haze of rain and fog rolling in; past the blurring at the edges of her vision and the warmth spilling down her cheeks.

in this moment, when mark stares down at her with something akin to pain in his eyes—mourning—

he has never seemed more human.

{ end }