#i have so many thoughts for that room becoming theirs … little trinkets being put on display. books in random places

[bitalis]

in my brain i like to think the glass of the meditation room is magic so that way ivy doesn’t have to panic everytime and can easily make it something different . like an illusion if you will

[utterlyinevitable]

1, 3, 7, 17, 33 for both E x B and E x O from the useful/fun character development questions for couples please! Thank you ❤️

> useful/fun character development questions for couples <

1. What, specifically, was the catalyst for their physical attraction (if applicable) to the other character? In other words, what in particular had them like “Oh, they’re…hot…”

Rebecca has eyes so that was the initial catalyst for her. She’d let Whoever this dark and stormy handsome giraffe was dick her down. 

Ethan won’t admit it but that evening of her first day when she bought him a drink is when he would really let himself be attracted to her, if only for 15 minutes. Then undeniably after the Dolores case he was fucked. That night he inquired about her tattoo at her wrist and she told him the story behind it. Not only was the ink hot but also her mind behind it.

Ethan was initially attracted to Odette that first day, she has all the qualities of women he normally entertain. But then she seemed really put off by him and that kind of turned him off a bit. He started getting the stirrings again after her trial towards the beginning of book 2 when they became more friendly - who else would he occasionally text on his sabbatical besides his dads? The way she just cared for him and treated him like a person and not like just a mentor or the man on the pedestal everybody believes him to be. She intellectually spars with him but in the most delightful ways and that gets him in his feels. She just seems to be always there. The whole Louise drama is when he solidified that he’s attracted and has romantic feelings for her. 

One day at impromptu brunch they’re talking and laughing and the light is hitting just right and Ethan is smiling and looking at her and something in her just kind of melts. In that moment she knew that they were much more than they were pretending to be.

3. By contrast, what was the moment that first made their ~heart~ Soft for the other person? Not necessarily a conscious realization of “I love this person,” but a moment that had them like “Oh…I adore them…”

The feeling of total adoration hmmm... 

Ode was after her trial and they were having a drink and just a good time maybe? They’ve both been through a lot the last few weeks and they’ve come out of it as friends. 

Ethan after seeing everything she did for Naveen and for him was a start to this girl being a fixture in his life. He became very fond of her then. But the big smack in the head (or to the heart) was the Louise drama. He couldn’t have come through without her, and she didn’t need to be so sweet nor did she need to be taking care of him again. But she does. Because she’s always there, and she cares. Even if she doesn’t say it, even if he’s still quite sure that she cannot stand him most of the time, she’s by his side holding him up. 

Odette really couldn’t tell you when she went from I know this guy is my friend I’ll keep him to I know I like him much more than my other friends. I’m assuming it would be at some point during all of the events they go to together and just all the time they spend together. Where she starts slowly, gradually falling for him in deep adoration. Most notably hitting her heart is when she gets the keyboard - that changed everything. Followed up by the night of the charity auction where they just walked around the local area of Boston and grabbed a bite to eat at a dive they both joked they needed to make up for in the morning, in their formal get ups and just had a lovely evening.

Rebecca fell in deep adoration with him in the moments they spend pouring over Naveen’s case. His passion and they way he talked about medicine with bright eyes and a crooked boyish smile had her heart melting. These moments were also just theirs - no one knew they were spending all this extra time together. 

Is it weird to say Ethan realized he adored her whilst in the Amazon? Distance makes the heart grow fonder and whatnot. Which is also why he’s a total asshole to her when he comes back - he needs to fight this feeling with anger. Repress repress repress! 

7. Do they (or would they) pursue the other character’s affection, and if so, how? Do they tell the other character how they feel? Try to earn their admiration? Woo them with romantic gestures? Flirt with them, skillfully or otherwise?

Becca continually pursues Ethan even when she’s ‘seeing’ Bryce - her heart is always with Ethan. She tells him in not so many words but she refuses to say I love you. That’s one thing she will never let him have hanging over her head - she’s embarrassed herself enough by believing him again and again that saying the words out loud could break her/them. She wants it to be his choice if they’re going to be that romantic with one another. She flirts with him naturally and not artfully most times. And Ethan takes it all; he enjoys it even if he knows he can’t go any further than these little quips.

Ethan doesn’t pursue Becca’s affections (he says, he caves a few times and refuses to acknowledge them). He pretty much denies them at every chance he can throughout second year and the beginning of first. As long as he’s employed at Edenbrook they can’t be anything and he stands by that. But then the toxin happens and he can’t not pursue her. Not anymore. Not since she broke up with bryce for him and he shut her down again. Not when she nearly died in his arms. Although he doesn’t want the affections at the beginning, he seeks it out so he flirt with her. Meets every one of her attempts with a half smile and does all he can to pull laughter from her. If he can’t be with her the least he could do is bring a bit of joy.

With Odette, Ethan is the one to pursue his own affection with that kiss and all the little friendly things that become staples in their lives. He doesn’t believe he’s ever actually blatantly flirted with her, everything just came so naturally. 

Ode is completely oblivious to Ethan‘s affections until he kisses her. Well, she had an inkling only because Sienna told her that nobody buys that expensive of a keyboard for simply a friend. While Ode agrees, she doesn’t want to believe it. So she doesn’t. She doesn’t think she pursues any sort of affections for him. But she does. In the way they spend time together, in the way that they talk and subtly flirt and spend all their free time together. In the small gifts of admiration and trinkets they bring to one another just to see the smile.

17. Under what circumstances would they want to be left alone by their partner?

OxE: After an argument or a stressful situation. They’re both quite introverted and need alone time (both) or silence (ethan) to sort through their thoughts. Odette also likes to have alone time once a week - a few hours in an afternoon to just be in herself. She hates the quiet though, so there’s always music playing in the background or something on Netflix. 

BxE: Ethan wants to be left alone when he has lots of work to do, or he’s had an argument with anyone. Whenever he’s feeling heightened emotions he wants to settle it on his own like he’s so used to doing. If Becca’s pissed or on her period she likes to be left alone. If she’s reading she needs pure quiet and will do that when he’s working in another room etc. 

33. Under what circumstances would they feel jealous?

Ethan has more protective jealousy. Of others treating Odette like a piece of meat/sexual object and her letting them. The amount of times she entertains random men who look at her wolfishly when they’re at events and never shuts them down (until they try to move things into ‘more’ territory). When she becomes really really busy with the app and they’re passing ships in the night he’s a little jealous of her professionally - wishes he could be part of this. but it’s hers. and he is part of it in a way. He’s also a little envious of her relationship with her parents. 

Ode isn’t a jealous person at all. She does too much into yoga and meditation for that. She just wants the best for everyone. 

Becca trusts Ethan but she doesn’t trust other women. When she and Ethan are in the early days of dating she’s insecure-ish and will playfully make comments that are meant to be a joke but rooted in jealousy - about how he’s too old for her, questions why he’s not with X, what he sees in Y or not in Z. The longer they’re together they have an unspoken game that ends up in some hot sex. But then the years go by and they’re too codependent. 

Ethan is jealous of her relationship with Bryce and a little bit of the guy she was dating in med school. He has personal doubts about them aside from his ethics and morals, like his age, how they don’t really have all that much in common, how much they fight. He’s more stuck in thinking about Becca’s potential with everyone that isn’t him - he’s afraid he’s going to fail/ruin her. 

[varibean]

figuring out how to fit

ch 1 of a multi chapter fic! 

It had taken them a few days to get back on their feet, the thrill of the Chickeraffe chase slowly leaving their systems only to be replaced with the dread of figuring out what to do next. There were many things that they wanted to do of course, but as was the way of the world adventure cost bruckles and the only way to get them (legally that is) was with a job. 

Sam, as charming as he was, had never held down an honest job before. His energy and smile were infectious, everyone who came in contact with him could agree that no matter what he decided to do, he would do it with a spirit that couldn’t be beat. However that itself was a problem. Though he was a Who of many skills, none of those skills could technically be considered among the legal variety. He had the charisma, but not the work experience to match. 

Guy on the other hand had the experience and the know how, it was getting through the front door that was the problem. Though inventing was his passion, he was well equipped to do just about anything the market called for; whether it be paint watching, flubberhorn polishing, vipperyvip repair, or filing. But even after his adventure, he lacked a certain level of charm that could dazzle an interviewer and set him apart from the hundreds of other applicants. 

In their short rut period Michellee had, of course, put them up at her house for a while, something both of them were eternally grateful for. Sam would cook breakfast in return and Guy helped E.B with her homework and pandog catching inventions. It was a nice set up for a few days, but there was a limit to how long a couch and a lounge chair were comfortable and even without that fact in mind, both Guy and Sam were a bit restless. 

Michellee constantly insisted that they were both fine to stay for as long as they needed, even going as far as to joke that they could stay forever if that’s what they desired. But they both knew they could never do that to her, couldn’t abuse her kindness in such a way. Sam had never stayed with so many people in one place before and even with the constant job hunt Guy felt like he would become an unspoken burden to the kind hearted Michellee.

Luckily, the question of how long they would need to stay was answered faster than anticipated. The worry and festering feelings of becoming a nuisance were lifted when, two weeks into the search, Guy found a job. 

He discovered that, while all of his own inventions exploded, repairing other’s inventions seemed to be a success. It was a fact that came as both a relief-he would get to work in the field he loved-and a bit of a blow to his pride-the thought that maybe it wasn’t his inventions that were wrong, maybe it was just him. But steady work was steady work and if he was meant to be an Domahicky Repair Man, then so be it. 

One week and his first paycheck later, Guy and Sam found their own apartment a city over. E.B had been upset that her friends were leaving but still smiled a teary goodbye as she hugged Sam goodbye, making him promise to visit on the weekends and to call her with a report of all the new adventures he was sure to have in the city. Michellee insisted that they could stay longer, save up a bit more money, but in the end she too relented on the Weekend Visit condition along with the frequent phone call. 

“Remember, we’re just half an hour away if you need us.” Michellee said as Guy finished loading his and Sam’s matching briefcases into the taxi.

“I think I recall you saying that once or twice in the last ten minutes.”

“I mean it Guy, if you need anything at all just ask. Bruckles, home decor, someone to talk to…”

Michellee’s voice trailed off at the end as she looked up at Guy with a smile. They’d both decided a few days after Mr. Jenkins went home that they were better off as just friends, but Guy had been telling the truth when he said she made him feel safe. Something about her calmed him in a way that few other people could. She’d become his confidant and in return he was her’s. It was a comfortable friendship, an easy going understanding that they shared between each other. 

“And good luck with-” Before Michellee could finish, she was interrupted by Sam sticking his head out the taxi window.

“Come on N.A.B-New Apartment Buddy-we gotta hit the road if we want to beat lower Sneetch Town traffic!”

Guy rolled his eyes and gave Michellee and apologetic smile before hugging her and climbing in the back of the taxi with Sam.

They both waved behind them at Michellee and E.B until the two Whos faded into dots in the distance. 

Sam threw his arm around Guy and pumped a fist excitedly in the air.

“Onto the next adventure!” 

___________

It hadn’t been discussed beforehand that Sam would move in with Guy, it had just been a given like so many other things in their relationship. Guy didn’t even question Sam’s correct assumption that they would be moving in together when the news dropped that he found a job and a nice little place to live in the lower Whoville area. He even brought Sam to the place a few days before moving just to get the other’s approval.

The apartment was small, the front door leading right into the tiny living room, the kitchen attached to that, another door leading to the bedroom, and a small bathroom on the side. It was fine for them, they both agreed. Guy didn’t need much space and Sam spent most of his days outside as it was. 

The first week after moving in there had been a period of adjusting, of making the area their own. Sam stocked the fridge with green eggs and packaged ham, leaving Guy to follow up behind him and put actual food in there as well. 

Sam also seemed to have a knack for decorating as well. His decor wasn’t exactly tidy, but it wasn’t sloppy either. It was an endearing sort of messy; splashes of colors everywhere with trinkets placed on all available surfaces. It only took a few days for the cookie cutter apartment to become an area that felt almost like home. A month ago, Guy would abhor the bright painted colors, the various useless things decorating the wall, the odd additions to the counters and side tables. But now he looked at them with a certain level of fondness that he hadn’t felt in a long time; the crowded living area wasn’t crowded at all, in fact, the more Sam added too it the easier it was to breathe. 

It was as if the life given to the room was radiating out and infecting him with his own splashes of color. When Guy came home, it was with a smile and a fond sigh as he looked around at the area that was slowly shaping to become theirs. 

Sam was also more than happy with their arrangement. Still struggling to find a job and give up his past life, after the decorating was done in the first few days he threw himself into helping around the community. By the end of the first week he had introduced himself to the neighbors, walked around town acquainting himself with the locals, and familiarized himself with the best diners in town. He wasn’t bringing in an income yet but that didn’t matter at all to Guy. Seeing the little Who exhausted and smiling from a day full of social interaction and free of crime was enough to give them both a sense of peace. 

Of course, there were slight drawbacks. The job Guy found was nice, but he didn’t get paid an extraordinary amount. It was enough to keep them both content, but there were certain things they had to cut back on. 

Their dishware was bought second hand, the pieces they were missing replaced with reusable plastic. Organic eggs and ham were out of the question, along with eating out for anything that wasn’t take out. Couponing became a must and Guy was always on the lookout for a sale. Most of their furniture came mix matched from thrift shops and online marketplace sales. 

But there was one thing that stood out the most among all of the little cutbacks: The apartment only had one bed. _____________

The first night they spent in the new apartment Guy was only mildly surprised that there was only one bed. The landlord had assured him that sleeping accommodations would be included with the down payment, but staring at the bed and thinking back to the conversation Guy realized that he hadn’t specified that this single bedroom would be shared by two people. An oversight on his part. 

“I guess this makes us Same-Bed-Buddies too huh?” Sam joked, but there was an unusual tension to his tone, as if he were more upset with the arrangement than Guy was. 

“After being shipped in a box with you this might as well be a California King.” 

Sam laughed in response and then threw himself onto the mattress, giving it a good bounce. 

Guy thought that would be the end of it and prepared himself to get nuzzled to near death in his sleep, but later that night he was surprised to find how reserved Sam was.

The little Who would toss and turn, inching closer to Guy, then suddenly catch himself and scoot back as if he were in trouble. It was odd, considering how touchy Sam was during all other aspects of their life. Guy mused that maybe he was trying to give him his space; they’d learned a lot about each other on their adventure, including how to be more considerate of each other’s boundaries. It was a sweet thought if true, even if a bit misguided.

An hour was spent with Sam tossing in a restless sleep and Guy, eyes wide awake, growing more and more frustrated as each minute passed. There was sadness mixed in there as well; the realization that this must’ve been how Sam always slept, twitching and alone and desperate to cling but being unable to find anything (or anyone) to hold.

The tossing and turning got to such a point that Guy’s nerves just couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Oh for the love of yip, just come here.” 

A groggy Sam slowly opened one eye, trying to take in the dark surroundings, but before he could respond to what was going on, Guy pulled him into his arms.

The little Who was still for a moment, the shock of being woken up and pulled into an embrace rendering him silent for a rare moment. After a minute or two, he wrapped his arms around Guy and buried his face into the soft ring of fluff around the Knox’s neck. 

“You’re kinda chubby.” Sam said sleepily, voice muffled by fur. 

The Who must’ve felt a rebuttal coming because he soon followed his words with a content sigh and pressed his body closer against Guy’s.

“I like it…’s comfy.” 

There was nothing Guy could say to that. Sam seemed to drift off into a now much quieter sleep, warm and contently pressed against Guy’s weight and soft fluff. 

Guy had to admit to himself that he didn’t hate the scenario. Quite the opposite in fact. He found that he enjoyed the feeling of Sam wrapped around him, the other’s little body tucked perfectly against him as Guy adjusted his arms so that they wrapped around his friend in return. Something about the feeling was...safe. Secure. The only drawback in his mind was that at some point in the morning, he would have to let go. 

That night they both slept with more peace than either had felt in a long time. 

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Would you do the sfw alphabet with polly gray and female reader?:)

Polly Gray SFW Alphabet

*** This isn’t expressly female x female but I’m trying to do all of the SFW Alphabets gender neutral so they apply to more people :) Sorry it’s not exactly the request but I hope it still works *** 

__________________________________________________

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Polly shows affection through caring acts. Even in a relationship, she can be somewhat motherly because she’s so used to being that mother figure so many around her. 

Physically, she’s kind of hot and cold depending on the situation. Especially since she’s a sexual assault survivor, she can become uncomfortable in physical situations very quickly and you work really hard to make sure that she always feels safe and comfortable. Other times, though, she loves to kiss you and she definitely has needs, if you know what I mean ;P 

 B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Polly is the kick ass best friend. She’s the one that you make stupid decisions with but you can also rely on each other to help the other one out. You tell each other EVERYTHING. You guys are actually more like really close siblings really. 

 C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Polly feels smothered very easily so a lot of times, cuddling is just lying in the same bed and gently running your fingers through her hair (or vice versa) and telling each other how much you love each other. 

 D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Polly can’t deny the aching to return back to her Roma roots, pack up a wagon, and just go see the world. She’s become accustomed to a life of luxury since Shelby Company Ltd. picked up and she likes the financial security but she’s got a wild soul and wants to share her world with you. 

 As far as cooking, Polly is a really good cook. Like her food is amazing. 

As far as cleaning, she’s eclectic. Her house isn’t a pigsty or anything but she has her fair share of small trinkets and objects around. 

 E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

She would hate to have to break up with you but if she had to, she would be secretly heartbroken but would keep it together long enough to get out of the room when she was done before breaking down completely. 

 F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

She wouldn’t totally jump the gun on engagements, not because she doesn’t love you, but because she’s hesitant when it comes to love. She’s lost so many people that she loves and then been used by others that it almost scares her when she feels it as does the possibility that she could lose you. 

BUT of course she wants to marry you! She wants to more than anything. She wants it to be a cute little simple wedding in a field with wildflowers and… yeah. It’s safe to say she wants to get married.

 G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Like I said earlier, she has a motherly energy around her so most of the time, she can be fairly gentle, physically and emotionally. She never wants to actually hurt your feelings (and she would NEVER hurt you physically).  

BUT she will not hesitate to call you out when you’re acting stupid or making her upset or anything. She loves you but she won’t allow you to walk over her or make decisions she knows will hurt yourself. 

 H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Polly is a big hugger. Well, not so big into them that she has to have her hands on you every single second of the day, but you guys definitely average on at least one or two hugs a day. 

Her hugs are warm and enveloping and they manage to make you feel safe and needed all at once. 

 I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes her a little while to finally say it but when she does, she is so sure that she means it that it’s not even something that she has to think twice about. 

 J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Polly doesn’t get jealous. Like at all. You guys have a very solid, trusting relationship so there isn’t a worry that the other one will cheat. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t the occasional insecurity but it’s never all that well-founded. You’d never cheat on the other person. 

When Polly starts to feel insecure, she’ll distance herself from you or from the situation and get herself a drink. 

 K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Her kisses will either be deep and passionate or quick pecks but there’s always so much love behind each one. 

Polly’s favorite place to kiss you is your lips. She feels like her connection to you is so much stronger when you kiss on the lips. 

 L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Polly loves kids. When she first found out she was having Michael and his sister, she was hesitant as to whether or not she’d be a good mother but then she lost them and found herself wanting nothing more than to have her children back. 

Even with Michael back now, she can’t help but think about the childhoods she missed out on witnessing. She would love to have that experience but knows that she’s too old to have her own children again. She can’t deny that she secretly hopes you will come across a poor orphan child and have to raise them as your own. 

 M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

When she’s sober, she wakes up before you most mornings. You’ll wake up to an empty bed but you can usually feel when she’s home or whether she’s left early. When she’s home, you can find her sitting in the living room with coffee and a book or the daily paper. 

 N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are spent pretty lovey-dovey between the two of you. I’m talking laying in bed having deep conversations or staying up late laughing over a glass of wine (okay, maybe a bottle). 

 O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It takes Polly a while to open up to you. It started when Tommy brought Michael into the picture. You knew that she’d had children in the past but it wasn’t until he was reunited with the family that she began to open up to you about her past. 

You were always aware of her second sight, though. It’s not something that she really hides anyways but, unlike a lot of other people in the family, you actually believe her. You don’t just claim to believe her to appease her. 

 P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Polly is not the most patient person in the world. She’ll put up with some crap if she knows that there’s a positive end goal but she’s pretty good at seeing when things are going to go to shit and when it’s one of those situations, there’s very little patience on her end. 

 Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Polly really does try to remember most of the things that you say but she’s under a lot of stress with those damn Shelby boys so there are some slips in memory sometimes. 

On the flip side, though, she’ll know things about you that you never told her because of her second sight. One time, she just started asking you questions about your childhood that would have required past knowledge and when you asked how the hell she knew about any of it, she told you that she’d been speaking to your grandmother who’d passed. 

 R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Her favorite memory by far was when the two of you spent the night camped out under the stars just outside of town. It was just the two of you, watching the sunset and then the sunrise the next morning. 

 S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Polly will literally FIGHT someone for you. She’d honestly kill for you (in a totally warranted kinda way… you know the Peaky Blinders are). Anyone messes with you, dealer's choice. You want somebody emotionally destroyed, she’ll insult the hell out of someone. Someone needs to get their ass beat? Polly has got it covered. NOBODY fucks with the person she loves.

 T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Polly likes sweet and simple. For her, it’s the thought behind everything that counts and not necessarily the monetary value behind it.

 V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

She definitely wants to look good. She’s put her time in mucking through all the crap but now she’s ready to look like a mother fricking queen. 

 W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

I’m gonna be honest here. No. She loves you more than anything except perhaps Michael but after losing everyone she’s loved at one point or another, she’s learned to not rely on other people to feel like a complete person. 

 Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

You love this woman to death but she’s got a bad habit of drinking a little too much sometimes and when she does, she just sort of passes out anywhere and everywhere. Although it’s getting better, you’ve come home before to find her passed out very very close to a roaring fire. 

[midwinter-fox]

Paint

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Days passed like a strangely pleasant dream - the kind that makes one wonder when the nightmare would rear up and shatter the tranquility. Every waking moment Dettlaff spent either with his flock or in the arms of his lover. The sudden change had Regis in a state of titters when he found out, so delighted was he that his dear friend was finding a place for himself that wasn’t secluded in a dark cavern in the mountains. When Dettlaff expressed his desire to stay with her, it was all the better for all three.

Regis was absolutely elated for his friend, and while Leonore was just as happy, it also meant they had to make her practically empty home a little more livable for more than one person. She expressed her desire to purchase more furniture - including a much larger bed - but Dettlaff convinced her that it wasn’t necessary. When his newfound lover departed for work, he took to his craft with renewed vigor. Never had Dettlaff been both so excited nor so anxious about his artwork, but now he had to earn Leonore’s approval for the furniture he planned to make himself. It was better this way, both so he could make everything a comfortable size for a man of his height and so he could hopefully receive his beloved’s praise. He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t doing this solely for her admiration.

He’d had to ask her what she required for her house, but only because he wasn’t entirely certain what was and was not necessary in a typical home. Regis’ wasn’t much of a reference considering there were additional pieces of furniture in place of usual ones to accommodate for both his medical and cosmetic professions. The bed was a given, but had she not expressed her desire for an actual dining set, he’d have probably neglected to make one. After all, he ate in his room or with his pack, and Regis ate while he worked. On top of that, she was in need of a separate wardrobe to accommodate his clothing, but when he actually thought about it, a sudden realization hit him.

He was leaving.

To live with Leonore.

Even with Rhena, he’d only ever lived with his pack or with Regis. That both were so close was a great reassurance, but something akin to fear was rising up and he didn’t know how to calm it. Rather than dwell on what could be causing these tumultuous feelings, he busied himself with preparing to build the necessary furniture for what was to be his new home.

The basement of Regis’ house was both where the distiller for his mandrake brew was kept and where Dettlaff saw fit to keep the tools of his trade. There was a little workbench where he would keep the toys and trinkets he worked on as well as various tools for larger projects. There wasn’t much any more after abandoning most of his belongings in Beauclair, but that no longer bothered him. With the death of Rhena, he almost never felt any desire to do much of anything any more, least of all anything that would make him happy. That had begun to change since meeting Leonore, which was quite evident with his insistence that he provide for their home.

Theirs. He wasn’t sure why the thought almost overwhelmed him.

Dettlaff wiped away the dust from a stack of papers, all of which contained sketches of various items he’d repaired and, at times, small doodles that he just didn’t have the heart to toss. The books he’d purchased to mend were here, but being recent additions, they were still free of grime for the time being. Those he would try to work on later if he still needed something with which to distract him from his usual dark thoughts and repressed memories.

After a bit of sifting through the various carving instruments he kept, he found the ones he searched for beside a worn and torn teddy bear. Every tool he kept in here had been acquired after departing from Toussaint, but only because Regis wasn’t quite as gifted when it came to woodworking; as such, repairs were usually made by Dettlaff’s hand. Tools found, he turned to go back up the stairs leading out of the cellar, but his eye caught something lurking in a far corner.

It was a canvas, the last one he’d attempted to use upon settling in Dillingen. Someone had removed the sheet he kept over it, revealing the half-painted silhouette of his past lover. As loathe as he was to be reminded of her transgressions, he could never dispose of the damned thing. There was too much sentimentality that kept him from doing anything more than letting it sit in the basement and collect dust. Maybe one day he might get some new materials with which to finish it or maybe even the heart to finally rid himself of it, but not until he could look at it without his gut twisting horribly. So far, that had yet to happen.

With a shake of his head, Dettlaff returned above ground and ventured around the side of the building to where a pile of wood sat. It would take a while to have it all finished, but if he started with the bed, he could have the most important pieces done by nightfall. The day was warm and quiet, so he removed his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and set to work.

Regis watched his companion from a window, though he wasn’t sure if Dettlaff knew whether he was being watched. It was always a treat to observe such an artist at work, and to see how skillfully the wood was inspected, cut, and carved reminded him of just how talented his friend was. Such a shame such talent went to waste those days, for Regis could remember many times in which new paintings would be proudly displayed upon finish and how happy Dettlaff would be with the results. The barber-surgeon really didn’t need another reason to curse Syanna’s name, but here it was. He hadn’t seen a new painting since the unfinished piece hidden in a dark corner of the cellar, and even then it was of the very woman that had become Dettlaff’s muse then crushed his heart.

A knock at the door distracted Regis from his thoughts momentarily, but now he wondered who would be there so unexpectedly. There were no appointments for that day, so that he would have a visitor was unusual. Upon opening the door, he couldn’t help but grin.

“You know, Dettlaff is actually outside at the moment. You can go around the side to find him,” Regis commented to a smiling Leonore, though her arms were full of parcels. “If you’d like, you can set those down in here before you go to see him.”

“Actually, I’m here to surprise him,” she whispered, knowing full well that if Dettlaff was anywhere nearby, he’d have no problem hearing her.

As soon as Regis stepped aside, she walked in to set the packages down on a table. To protect her little secret, he went to the window out which he could clearly see the other vampire and drew the curtains closed. Curious, he returned to Leonore to see what she’d brought.

“I take it these are for him?” he asked, to which she nodded. “May I ask what’s in them? I warn you, Dettlaff is incredibly receptive to gifts. You’ll not be able to keep him away from you if you plan on presenting these all at once.”

“I’m not opposed to that,” she shrugged, “but I told him I’d be getting these for him anyway. I don’t think he’s expecting it though, which is why it’s a surprise. I finished my deliveries especially quick today so I could bring them.”

“You still haven’t said what they are.”

“Oh! Sorry.” She blushed. “It’s painting supplies. Brushes, pigments, and I’ve got an easel here too, but he’d have to put it back together first. I also got about a dozen or so eggs so he can make his paints himself.” When Regis’ expression fell a fraction, she frowned in response. “What..? You don’t think he’ll like it?”

“Oh no, I think he’d adore anything you gave him, but I’m afraid he hasn’t touched a brush since we arrived here a few years back.”

“Oh, I know. He told me he’d lost his muse, but I thought that maybe if he actually had the supplies, when he does feel the desire to paint again, he actually can. And, if he decides he’d rather not for the time being, then you have eggs you can eat.”

This brought a smile back to his face. She was thoughtful, though a bit irresponsible with her funds. With how many small parcels were there, he didn’t doubt she had spent nearly a fortune on it all. There were about five packages there, but he didn’t see anything that could hold a small canvas.

“Did you happen to bring something on which he can paint..?”

She stopped and stared at him for a moment, face slowly getting ever redder. That answered his question quite effectively before she even had the chance to groan and smack herself in the forehead. The display made Regis snort.

“I’m such an idiot! I’m standing here all proud of myself and I forgot the damned thing he’s supposed to paint on in the first place!”

“Oh, I’m sure you two will figure something out. He’s still bound to be grateful that you got him anything in the first place.” He was still chuckling at how hilariously adorable she looked when angry. Her cheeks made her look like a grumpy chipmunk, but he wouldn’t say as much.

The sound of a door opening shook her from her internal punishment of herself, but Regis just stood and smiled as Dettlaff strode into the room, wood shavings stuck to some of his clothes as well as the hair of his forearms though he’d tried brushing most of it off. Upon seeing Leonore there, he paused.

“What are you doing here..? You were not to be back before dusk I thought.” The confusion written across his face was concealing his underlying concern. Why would she be back so soon if not for something important?

“Would you like some privacy? I’m sure you know where his room is by now,” suggested Regis, knowing full well just how emotional Dettlaff could get when given gifts. After all, he’d been the one to give his friend the first he’d ever received.

“Sure,” she responded briefly before gathering up the parcels and trotting off down the hall in which the room was. When Dettlaff hesitated, she poked her head around the corner. “Are you coming?? I’ve got something for you!”

Dettlaff exchanged looks with his friend, but when Regis shrugged and grinned, he decided to follow, bits of wood shavings leaving a small trail on the floor as he went.

“You wanna close the door?” Leonore asked as Dettlaff walked in the bedroom, though her back was turned to him as she set up the packages on the covers of what was soon to be his old bed. He shut the door behind him, but eyed all of the parcels now set out with a sort of wonder.

“What is all of this?”

“It’s for you! Go ahead and open them. These ones here would probably be best first,” she gestured to the smaller two, “or you can save them for last. It’s up to you.” She was radiating excitement with how she bounced on the balls of her feet and smiled at him expectantly. It was effectively rubbing off on him, for he was smiling before he even knew what it was that lay within the parchment packaging.

Carefully, he used a claw to tear the paper that covered the first parcel. It was the smallest, but it was about a foot in length. As soon as the wrapping fell apart, he picked up the paint brushes that lay within like they were made of glass. The larger handles were polished and yet shaped in a way that they fit perfectly between his fingers while the thinner brushes were sturdy despite being perfect for the most intricate of details. Vair hair bristles tipped each brush; the mere thought of how smooth the lines would be with each stroke made him all too eager to test them.

“You.. bought these..?”

“Well, yes and no. Some things were easy enough to find out in nature, but yes, the brushes were purchased.” Leonore picked up a second parcel and held it out to him. “This one I was able to gather myself.”

This package was larger, and when he tenderly set aside the brushes to take it, he noticed it was lighter than it looked as well. He opened it much quicker this time, then lifted the wooden lid of the box that lay inside. There were several compartments inside - about ten in total. Each one held a different colored powder.

“Pigments. How did you find such a vibrant purple?”

“Wild indigo, dried and ground. That one was probably the hardest to find simply because purple is such a rare color. I hope it works well.”

Awed, he slowly closed the box and set it just beside the brushes, but he didn’t bother opening another gift. Rather, he took Leonore by the arms and pulled her to him, holding her against his chest in a crushing embrace. She did her best to return it, though her arms were pinned to her sides.

“Thank you, truly,” he murmured against her hair, voice thick with emotion. “You’ve no notion of how much this means to me.”

“You’re very welcome.” Her voice was a bit strained considering he was making it hard to breathe, but as soon as he heard it, he released her and apologized. “It’s fine, love. I told you I’d keep an eye out for more art supplies for you.”

“Yes, and you said you would make me aware if you found anything so I may procure it for myself. I did not think you would go so far as to acquire any of this, let alone for me.” He hugged her again, though this time he was more careful about it by winding his arms under hers. This allowed her to hold him in return.

“Alas, I forgot to grab a canvas for you. I even grabbed an easel, a palette, and some eggs for you to make the paints, but you’ve nothing to actually paint on..”

For a moment, he remembered the unfinished painting downstairs, but that wouldn’t do. No, he wanted nothing to do with the memory of his heartbreak - not when he wanted nothing more than to hold and love the woman in his arms now.

“You’ve spoiled me as it is, liefje. Think nothing of it.”

“Well you deserve to be spoiled! I’ve never felt so wanted nor appreciated as I have with you. This is just my way of thanking you for being, well, you.”

Ah, if only she knew what she was doing to him. There was no way he could be more sentimental than he was in that moment. He almost wanted to cry. Too choked up to say anything, he instead buried his face in her shoulder and held her close, relishing in her smell and her touch when words utterly escaped him.

“Don’t you want to open the rest of them..? You may not have a canvas, but we can still do some painting I think.”

When he pulled back to look at her, she smirked back up at him. Her eyes were suggestive, but what she was getting at was lost on him.

“What would you suggest..?” he asked, which made Leonore’s smirk turn into a grin.

“You’ll see. Get something we can use to mix paint in. It’ll get a bit messy, soooo you might want to take off your clothes.”

She removed herself from his embrace and picked up the largest of the packages carefully. While she took to opening it, Dettlaff decided to do as she said. When he returned with a handful of small bowls (though Regis initially protested, he promised to clean them once finished), she was already pulling out some of the eggs.

“How many did you grab?”

“Eleven; one for each color, some water, and the egg whites. The colors can be mixed on the palette for other hues.” When he set them on his nightstand, she noticed that one did, in fact, already have water in it.

“Good. Give me the empty ones.” And so he did.

She was right about one thing: this was truly a messy affair. Initially, Dettlaff planned on being very careful with such a project, but she had little regard for cleanliness. He was grateful he’d shut the door again, for she was quick to remove her blouse when she accidentally spilled some egg white on it. Alluring as the sight was, he was far too amused by her childlike excitement with helping him make paints. Before long, they had both discarded most of their clothing and had nine bowls of paint with a prepared palette. Somehow, Dettlaff had managed to keep at least his trousers clean, but Leonore had to undress down to just her undergarments. Her pale skin ended up with flecks of paint in various places thanks to her own clumsiness.

“Liefje, how are you so careless..?” he asked as he wiped a bit of black from her cheek, but she responded by dipping a finger into the red and wiping a smear across her own chest.

“Because I’m your canvas.” He raised an eyebrow at her when she grabbed one of his new brushes and handed it to him.

“You.. You wish for me to paint on you?” He was incredulous, but he took the brush and eyed her almost completely nude form with renewed interest.

“Why not? I feel bad for getting you all of this and then you not being able to use it. So, problem solved. I’m about as pale as a canvas, though admittedly I’m probably not as smooth..”

“You are perfect.” The words were automatic, like they were already on his tongue before he had to think of saying them. It effectively left her flustered. “But what would you have me paint..? This is not my preferred medium, but I will not deny that it is more exciting than the conventional means.”

“Well.. I already started it for you I guess.” There was a faint blush to her cheeks, her eyes avoiding his as she suddenly became bashful. “You um.. I mean, you may as well start with red I suppose..?”

With that as a starting point, Dettlaff dipped the brush into the vermilion paint on the palette, but on a whim mixed it with a bit of white. Since he had no real plan, he instead let his hand move of its own volition. When he touched the pink bristles to Leonore’s skin, he could see her visibly shiver.

“You are not uncomfortable, are you?” He only asked as a courtesy; his mind was already starting to wander as he envisioned what he wanted to create upon her skin. “You will have to lay here for a while and remain still.”

“I’m alright, take your time. This feels good, actually. Do you need me to remove my underwear?”

“Only if you do not wish for them to be accidentally painted.”

Briefly, she shifted so she could remove her last article of clothing, but as soon as she did, she laid herself out on the ground for him. Presented as she was, she looked beautiful in his eyes - then again, she was always beautiful to him, inside and out. She was so trusting of him, and it warmed his heart. His human canvas still once again, he once more ran the brush across her skin and watched as she closed her eyes and sighed. It seemed she truly was enjoying it, and with that reassurance in mind, he let himself paint freely.

After an hour, he’d only just barely finished her chest, the beginning of a sunset landscape spreading down from her collarbone. A few times he had to stop and get some clean water for his brush, and each time he would come back to her snoozing peacefully on the floor. As soon as the bristles touched her skin again, she’d hum and sigh in contentment. There were a few spots he found to be ticklish, so he made sure to be quick as possible so as to avoid accidentally smudging anything. This was far more engrossing than he’d initially thought, and so he was beginning to be invested in this particular piece.

It was with some difficulty that he managed to paint across the swell of her breasts, especially when her breathing kept hitching the closer he got to her nipples. As frustrating as it was as an artist, as a man and her lover, he wanted nothing more than to close his lips over each bud and lavish affection on her with his tongue. Part of him wondered if this was what she’d planned - to have him tease her with the brush then take her with his body. However, this was the first time in a long time that he actually wanted to paint and had an image in mind of what to create. Thus, he kept his mind off of the smell of her arousal and on the task at hand.

By the third hour, her torso was completed. It was fairly quick when compared to his previous works, but painting on skin didn’t allow for as much detail as he would like - not when it was a medium he was unused to. She kept fidgeting when he tickled her, so he had to be quick lest she make a mess of both of them.

He tried to limit how many colors he used initially, but the more he painted, the more ideas came to mind. Nostalgia was what inspired him, particularly the memories of Nazair as day gave way to night. The view of the setting sun behind Rhys-Rhun castle from across the Muredach was one he remembered fondly, especially when one was just high enough to view the garden that once flourished past the keep’s walls.  He could recall when that garden had been full of life before the castle had been abandoned and fallen into disrepair. Now, he viewed that very scene across the expanse of his lover’s torso which ended just past her navel.

“Have you finished..?” she asked, drawing his eyes to hers. “May I move now?”

“Yes. It is unfortunate that at some point you will need to wash it off. Remind me to recreate this on a true canvas. Admittedly, you made a fairly poor one.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“I’d like to see you do any better,” she retorted before dipping a finger in the blue paint and flicking it at him. “It doesn’t help that you painting my breasts made me incredibly horny.”

“I was thinking more on the moments in which your laughter shook the brush as I attempted intricate details, but I noticed your arousal as well.” There were specks of blue in the coarse hair on his chest now, and though he tried to wipe it off with his thumb, it was far more stubborn than it was on Leonore’s body. Now they had a mess to clean up, much to his chagrin. Cleaning was his least favorite part of making art. “Will you help me clean before washing yourself..?”

“Nope. I’ve got something much better in mind.”

“It would have nothing to do with you painting me, would it?” He cocked a brow at her as she sat up and looked down at herself.

“Have you ever tried finger painting?” When he shook his head, she grinned. “I’m certain I can get you to like it.”

His curiosity got the best of him; rather than begin tidying, he watched as she dipped her fingers into the blue again and trace them along his naked abdomen. The hair that trailed down his stomach textured it rather oddly from his perspective, but he enjoyed her touch even with cool paint being left in her finger’s wake. The thought of having to clean himself wasn’t a very comforting one, but he would accept it in favor of his lover’s hands on his body. This time when she went for more, she took a handful of the green and let it drip from her palm before pressing it to his chest. When her hand trailed upward toward his shoulder, the droplets of paint rolled down his body and made him shudder. The liquid was slow and cold and thick, but the sensation made him hum in approval knowing it was her hand that caused it.

“Remove your pants.” The simple command was obeyed immediately; Dettlaff stood so he may remove the offending article of clothing, though there were already flecks of paint splattered across them. That wasn’t his lover’s concern though.

Her hand was once again being dipped in paint, this time the purple. She didn’t even wait for him to finish pushing the waistband of his trousers past his hips. As soon as his semi-erect member was freed, she ran her tongue across the head and pressed her hand to his pelvis to allow the paint to drip down and around the base of his shaft. As alien as it felt, he couldn’t help the involuntary moan that slipped from his lips. This was perhaps one of the oddest activities he’d partaken in, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

For only a moment, she suckled at the slit that tipped his member, but just as his mouth fell open in another, more silent moan, she stood and claimed his mouth with hers. Purple was smeared up across his stomach and chest, blending now with the blue and green, before the hand bearing the paint cupped his cheek. The paint on his lover’s body was still wet, and so that too ended up coating his skin when she pressed herself flush against him, but he cared for nothing other than Leonore’s tender affections. He broke the kiss to finish removing the last of his clothing, but then immediately took her wrist and dragged her down to join him back on the floor.

When he took her breast in his palm, he ran his hand up to mirror her earlier actions, now cupping her cheek with a painted hand. She pulled back to smirk at him.

“Told you I could get you to enjoy it.”

She was silenced by his mouth on hers again, but there was no protesting on her part - not when he was further messing up his masterpiece on her chest with his groping. They were both grateful that he’d not painted any lower, else their joining would be fairly uncomfortable. When his hands moved from her chest to her hips, she helped guide his cock to her entrance and sank down onto him with a low, pleased groan.

They moved and moaned together, the paint only further smearing across their bodies whilst she rode him. Dettlaff tried to take her slowly, but with how her hips rotated against him, he was quickly losing composure. He ended up laying back completely so he could better thrust upward into her, delighting in how her eyes closed in ecstasy and breasts bounced in time with their pace. His hands covered her breasts once more, fingers pinching the painted buds tipping them to make her moan ever louder. How he adored the sounds she made, but he was also focused on the sight of the multitude of colors mixing on her skin. It was entrancing though the original product was ruined beyond recognition.

Without warning, Leonore reached for another paint - the charcoal black - and poured some of it across his chest. When she leaned down to kiss him again, it was pressed into his chest hair and spread between their bodies. When she sat back up again, she ran her hands through it and up to his neck. There was no pressure applied, but the sensation of her wet hands gripping his throat made him involuntarily whine.

“I.. I’m close, love.. F-fuck– Ah~!!” Her exclamation was followed by a final press of her hips and a drawn out cry, she seated herself fully on him as her orgasm washed over her. Once again he gripped her hips, but only so he could thrust into her a few more times then follow her climax soon after. When she collapsed on top of him, he immediately ran his hand across her back and traced soothing sunset-colored circles into the skin.

They lay in bliss as the paint dried and they came down from their pleasurable high. Neither one wanted to move, but they knew they eventually needed to clean the awful mess they’d made of each other and the room. It didn’t help that the paint that was caked onto their skin was beginning to itch and crack, but Dettlaff wasn’t about to allow his lover to go walking nude through the house with another man living there, no matter if that man happened to also be his closest friend. It was all the more reason he needed to finish their furniture, but this distraction had been a very welcome one. Eventually, Leonore removed herself from his body, his seed causing further mess for them as it spilled from between her thighs. She just snorted in dry amusement.

“At least it isn’t more paint.” Her lover rolled his eyes at her humor as he stood.

“Remain here and I will draw a bath for us, though we may need to take more than one..”

“Hey, it’s more time I get to spend with you and be completely naked at the same time. I think that’s a win for both of us.” Her light-heartedness in spite of all of the cleaning they had to do made it hard not to smile.

Upon leaving the room, he made sure to close the door behind him to allow Leonore some privacy. As he made his way to the washroom, Regis spotted a multi-colored mass from the corner of his eye while he tended to dinner. The sight was, for lack of a better word, remarkable.

“Dettlaff?? What the hell happened to you?!” He dropped what he was doing to get a better look, unbothered by the other’s nudity and more concerned by the fact that it looked like a black mass was attempting to strangle him then ended up vomiting a rainbow down the front of him. Dettlaff grudgingly turned to face him.

“We.. Mh, we got carried away.”

“Please tell me you at least plan on cleaning up whatever horror of an aftermath you left behind.” The look of both disgust and unease made it clear that Regis was displeased with the situation, but Dettlaff’s nod didn’t make him feel any better.

“We do, once we’ve finished bathing.”

“If you finish bathing. I’m going to assume she looks just as bad?” Regis asked, but only got another nod in response. It appalled him how this man had no shame sometimes. “Well, I’ll ask that you try not to make this a common occurrence until after you’ve moved out. I was planning on making your room into an examination room, but if the mess is as awful as I think it is, I suppose it’ll have to wait until you two finish cleaning up after yourselves.”

“It will be done, I assure you.” Dettlaff turned to go back to setting up a bath, but paused for a moment. “I also apologize for causing you such distress. I will do what I can to remedy the issue.”

“I’m certain you will, my friend. Now please, you smell of eggs and sex, and I would really like to forget that I’ve ever had the misfortune of encountering such a foul odor.” Before Dettlaff disappeared into the washroom, he called out as an afterthought. “And wash out the tub when you’re done!”

When he heard the door close, he shook his head and sighed then went back to preparing dinner. As much as he enjoyed having the other vampire staying with him - especially when it helped his heart heal - inwardly, Regis was grateful that such sexual escapades would be restricted to Leonore’s home instead of his own; he’d no doubt be finding paint in the spare room no matter how many times he scrubbed the floors now.

[takadasaiko]

Five Years of Peace #3: Second Chance

FFN II AO3

Summary: Tony's amusing attempts at packing up their condo take a turn when he finds a photo Pepper thought she'd already stored away.

Part Three: Second Chance

Tony had moved around a lot as a kid. His father had bounced them between New York, DC, and LA over the years, and he’d made the move by himself to Massachusetts at fourteen for MIT. He’d lived in so many houses and condos over the course of his childhood that he’d never really felt like one place was home, much less that any structure felt like much more than a roof over his head. Maybe that was why he had chosen to burrow down in his Malibu mansion for as long as he did. It was his design, his vanity project that he’d jumped all the way in on, and it had felt… safe. He had traveled the world, stayed at other properties that he owned, but there was something comforting about having a home base of sorts to go back to.

He had never considered himself a particularly sentimental man, but losing that home had been a hard blow. Harder than he would have expected it to be, but it had opened up the opportunity to make the cross country move that he had toyed with since building Stark Tower. He and Pepper had bought a condo - both names on the paperwork, and she hadn’t wasted any time teasing him about owning twelve percent of it - and they had officially moved Stark Industries to the East Coast. He may not have designed this one in full, but it had been theirs fully and completely. Even when she had kicked him out, angry and frustrated with him, and Tony had basically moved into the tower. Funny thing, he hadn’t brought much with him. Maybe that’s why Cap had completely missed the fact that Tony and Pepper had split ways.

She’d taken him back, though, and she’d agreed to marry him. Through the good and the bad, they’d built a home there together. They’d built this home together. And now they would build a new one with their little guy or girl on their way.

“You know that I could-“

“Nope,” Tony cut in, Pepper’s voice pulling him out of his thoughts.  She quirked an eyebrow at him from where she was seated, feet up in the comfiest chair they owned. He, on the other hand, had plopped himself down in the middle of the living room, boxes at every turn, and a small pile of breakables that he was wrapping up and putting away. “I’ve got this. You get to sit back and supervise.”

“It’s cute that you think I’d let you pack everything up without supervision. Or that you could.”

“Rude.”

Her lips quirked up at the corners. “Still true. I’m not sure you 've ever packed anything in your life.”

Tony reached for a breakable. “There was that trip to Nice.”

“Really? A three day trip is what you want to go with?”

“You didn’t say there had to be a limit on it.” There was something in the look she was giving him that made him feel like he’d just stepped in it.

“You are aware I repacked that bag, right?”

Tony snorted and held up her carefully wrapped trinket. “I think I’m doing okay.”

Her smile only broadened, her voice teasing. “And I’m very proud of you, babe.”

“You are mean today,” he groused and her laugh settled over him, tugging a smile of his own into place as he reached for the next object to wrap. He froze there, smile fading as his fingers tightening around the framed photo and he had to remind himself to breathe.

“Tony?”  He could hear her start to stand, but couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Instead his dark eyes were fixed on the goofy picture that he and Peter Parker had taken as part of the intern cover that had been meant to shield his Aunt May from finding out. They’d taken several, and none of them had turned out completely serious. At least half of them had caught Peter with his mouth open, talking and chattering about… something. Tony liked to talk, but that kid never seemed to take a breath of air. They had spent the whole day in cover mode, working their way through Stark Industry’s corporate offices.

“Hey?” Pepper’s soft voice cut through the memory and she touched his shoulder. “I thought I’d already packed that one.”

He pulled in a deep breath, struggling to bring himself back under control. “It’s fine. Needs to go with the other photos in the box.”

His wife settled on the floor next to him, hand never leaving his arm as she did, but it finally dropped to his knee. “I know you don’t like talking about it-“

“I really don’t.”

“-but you should. You’ve never really learned how to process grief-“

“Wow, thanks hon. Is this you being comforting?”

Pepper’s grip on his knee tightened and he purses his lips together to let her finish. “Everyone’s different, Tony, but I’ve watched you bury things for years and what it does to you. Your parents’ death, you and your dad, New York…” He could feel his chest tightening up and she must have noticed the change. Her hand left his knee to find his own hand, fingers gentle as they took hold. “And now this. It eats you up and you… hyper focus on whatever’s there to distract you.” She glanced around at the half-boxed room as if making her point.

“You want me to hire movers to box everything? I’ll hire movers. Done.”

“I want you to give yourself time to mourn so that when our child gets here you’re there for them. All the way there. Not like your dad was with you.”

Tony blinked hard, realizing for the first time that the tears were building. He reached up to wipe at them, but Pepper beat him to it, thumbing away at the salty water streaking down his cheek. She leaned forward, the kiss gentle and encouraging, and it took a moment for him to push past his whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that were folding in and over each other so loudly that there might as well have been a hurricane inside of his head. She quieted it though. She always quieted it. “He was only there because of me.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

He cleared his throat and tightened his grip on her hand. “I tried to send him home, but the kid’s stubborn…. Was stubborn. He got inside the ship. I was so…. Hell, Pep, I yelled at him. Told him he hadn’t thought it through. That it was….truth is I didn’t think it through.”  It wasn’t that he hadn’t known it, or that he didn’t even know it as he had lectured the teenager for following him. He  hadn’t thought it through. There was a woman that loved him waiting on the ground and he’d hopped on board a spaceship with no exit strategy and no real plan. He would have lost them if he’d given himself time to come up with one, but that was beside the point…. And had been Pepper’s exact point when he’d brought up kids that same day.

“Tony?”

His attention snapped back to her and she looked worried. “Yeah?”

“You were a long way away.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just… talk to me.”

He looked at her for a long moment, focusing on her touch, on her eyes, and the support she was desperately trying to give him. Despite his flaws - and he knew they were numerous- she loved him. She was there for him. Slowly he let the story tumble out, the words forming and he busied his hands with wrapping up all of the other belongings that were in a pile and waiting to be packed. Pepper joined him in it, her focus on him as he talked through what had been their half hazard plan, how they had come across Nebula and her people, and how they had gone toe to toe with the Titan himself. About how Strange had given up the Time Stone that he had been so desperate to protect.

“Strange saved my life, but it cost Pete his. It cost… everyone.”

“You said he could… what? See what would happen?” Pepper asked hesitantly.

“That’s what he said. The whole wizard thing is still kinda new.”

Her expression softened at the flippant remark and he thought he saw the tiniest of her amused smiles flicker for half a moment. Then she caught his gaze and held it. “So there had to have been a reason, right?”

“Hell if I know what it was. We still lost.”

“That isn’t your fault.”

He pushed a long breath out through his nose. “Maybe not.”

Pepper rocked forward and Tony felt some of his tattered nerves ease just a little as she kissed him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

His wife smiled at him. “For talking to me. I can’t fix what happened, but you don’t have to go through it alone.”

“I should just tell you everything, huh?”

That smile came back. “No more secrets and no more trying to do it on your own. I need you here with me. With us.”

Tony nodded, gaze drifting to where Pepper was starting to show and all he could do was nod, his words running dry in his throat. She deserved the promise though. She deserved him to make good on it this time. Pepper deserves everything he was capable of giving her, and so did their kid. He might never be able to shake the guilt and the regret, but he had to find a way to move on from it. He tore off a section of bubble wrap, winding it around the photo. “We’re lucky,” he managed, voice scratchy with emotion. “I didn’t know…. I got to come home to you. Lot of people didn’t. We’re lucky.”

She reached up, her hand against his cheek and Tony turned into it to press a kiss to her palm. Years before he had promised not to waste one sacrifice to save his life. Now it had happened again, and no matter what Strange thought or had hoped for, Tony knew of at least two reasons right in front of him not to waste this second chance. He just had to focus on the good. Then, maybe, as time marched on and they could add those happy moments to their pile, they had to outweigh all the hurt. Someday.

                                                           ------

Notes: I'm really interested in the process Tony must have come through to come to terms with everything that happened after the Snap. I think that, unlike his father, he was able to at least allow himself to be grateful for what he had rather than hyperfixating on what he'd lost and couldn't get back. For Howard it was Steve, who he spent the rest of his life searching for, and Tony could have become that very easily. He could have spent those five years chasing down every possibility that his clever mind could come up with, but he didn't. He focused on the family he had right then and there, and while it's clear he never stopped missing those they lost, he made sure to be there for Pepper and Morgan in a way that I don't think Howard was able to do in the end for him. 

[misomilk]

Happy Akusai Day! Here are my seven drabbles to fill in seven prompts for Akusai month. 

Rating: G, except for one T  Word count: (collectively) ~2k WARNING: poetic attempts re: hints of sex

DAY 01 (JUL 8, SAT): RED AND BLUE

Isa always had an aversion to the color red.

It’s too vivid, too bright, too full of life that he doesn’t have extra energy for. All the things he owns are either grey, black or white, his room devoid of color except for he himself—blue and tanned.

He doesn’t know what comes over him when he sees /him/ that fated day—in a garden full of green and vibrant hues, petals flowing in the wind from /him/ to Isa—and Isa decides, maybe red is alright. Maybe red can infiltrate his cheeks when /he/ holds his hand. Maybe red can be clutched by his hands when /he/ holds him tenderly as they make love. Maybe red fits perfectly in his house, all the more when red tangles with blue as they lay beside each other in bed.

When Lea looks at him, and promises him a life lived in purple, red and blue joined as one, Isa decides.

Red isn’t so bad after all.

***

Lea had always searched for the color blue.

He heads out at high noon to see a cloudless sky. He travels far to the sea, watch it sparkle under the sun. He keeps plenty of his things as blue as they can be, knowing that red is a stark contrast, and it makes him feel complete.

Yet when he sees /him/—in a sea of green, flower petals guiding his gaze to look at /him/, he realizes he’d been wrong all this time. All his trinkets, his furniture, his blue painted house—none of them compared to the blue of this man he loves. Such soft, silky hair, so blue against his fair skin. He loves it when red invades /his/ tan skin whenever he holds /him/.

As Lea looks at him, and promises him a life lived in purple, red and blue joined as one, Isa looks as beautiful as the day he first met him.

Blue was the color he needed after all.

DAY 02 (JUL 13, TH): FIRST* / LAST

On the day of his cousin’s wedding, the party celebrated at one of the many flowery areas of Radiant Garden, Isa first sees him by the punch bowl, which, despite its stark pinkness, was only half the vibrance of his red hair. Isa thought his head was a gigantic red rose at first, but at second glance he realized it was simply fiery red hair.

Way too red.

Despite his distaste for the color, his blue-green eyes kept wandering back to him. He is easy to spot against green, and even against the colors of flowers on the bushes. Aside from his blaring hair, his grey suit fit him snugly, Isa’s eyes able to measure every angle of his body within the hour he’d spent walking around the party, eyes following him.

Isa turns at a corner to keep him in his gaze when a strong breeze blew by. It picks up loose petals among the bushes, his short blue hair blowing to his face, that he has to tug them back behind his ear, closing his eyes in fear of dust getting in.

Once the wind blows weaker, the petals flowing past him, he sees /him/—bright green eyes, staring right into Isa’s soul.

***

It had been months since they first met that they finally sleep together. Not that it was Lea’s first time sleeping next to him, but it was the first time without clothes, sweaty skin sliding against sweaty skin, tongues dancing and fingers gripping bodies as close as they could.

It was beautiful. Isa is beautiful. With his short blue hair, a little longer now than when he first met him, spread out like a fan against Lea’s cream sheets. Isa’s shaky voice in his ears as they move together. Isa’s heated girth inside of him as he rode him.

Isa becomes more beautiful as red rushes to his cheeks, lips swollen pink, Lea’s name slipping from his tongue.

He loves it when Isa comes, shaking vehemently but his eyes lustfully open, staring at him—blue-green eyes, staring right into Lea’s soul.

DAY 03 (JUL 18, T): SWAP* / REFLECTION

Isa should’ve known not to come out of his house in Lea’s clothes. But how was he to know that his cousin’s husband would recognize this horrible shirt? But then right, right. Lea was at the wedding because he was Xigbar’s subordinate. Isa wants to slap himself repeatedly now.

Xigbar continues to cackle, Demyx trying not to laugh with him but failing horribly.

Isa frowns, in his orange sweater, the yellow sun with giant-lens sunglasses on his chest waving ‘Good morning’.

***

Lea knew he hadn’t worn his underwear, but he couldn’t have foreseen how aroused he’d be by lunchtime by the mere (constant) thought that he was wearing Isa’s underwear. Black, silky to touch though not silk. It makes him feel hot, and hotter still.

He takes a quick break before lunchtime when he jerks off, in a stall—moans silenced while he hears other people chattering in the bathroom. He has a picture of Isa on his phone, one taken in the throes of passion—smiling one of his rare, genuine smiles with his hair a mess against the sheets and sweat shining upon his brow.

When he comes, he silently whispers Isa’s name, the “I” remaining on his lips longer than the “sa”. He has to come twice, the second burst caused by the fact he’d come in Isa’s underwear.

When Isa gets home that night, Lea makes his lover watch him touch himself—legs spread out on the sofa, the underwear he’d worn to his nose.

DAY 04 (JUL 23, SUN): SOULMATES* / OPPOSITES

Isa wouldn’t exactly call him his soulmate. Isa didn’t believe in a higher power, in red strings, or in other halves to be whole once you find The One that fit you perfectly.

But he does believe in Lea. Believes that his love for this man far surpasses all hatred he’s ever borne put together. He’s the person that made Isa love the red he once so despised, after all. Lea has that kind of power.

With his own willpower, Isa would keep him close. Never chain him, nor tie him down, but keep Lea pulled toward him with enough kisses and hugs, tiny but constant showers of affection. Make Lea feel content enough, despite the possibilities Lea would feel incomplete and imperfect in his company, to keep a smile on his face for the rest of their days.

Lea may not be his soulmate. But he is Isa’s love.

***

Lea knew with one glance that Isa was his. The year that followed made him feel even more determined of its truth, but the months that followed made him wonder if he really could call him ‘his’.

This relationship of theirs is no longer as smooth-sailing as it used to be. They argue and disagree. Sometimes they make offending comments, shout and tear their own hair. There had been times Lea thought he could lose Isa through one, tiny misunderstanding that would finally be the last crack to make the porcelain vase fall apart.

It was strange. Lea had thought being with one’s soulmate meant sparkles, fast heart-beats and red strings magically putting them together, promising them they would stay together no matter how harsh the storms tear down the sky. Yet no matter how hopeless and unconquerable the rift between would seem, they manage to pull closer, not because of an outside force keeping them locked in a certain space, but by tugging through roughest paths, teeth gritted to swallow down pride, reaching out for even the slightest intimate touch. One touch, one word, one teardrop of honesty, and they start anew.

Isa may not be his soulmate. But he is Lea’s love.

DAY 05 (JUL 28, F): BLIND DATE / DEAF TO RUMORS*

One would think that after three years together, happily living in the caresses of each other’s love, Isa would learn to have no room for doubt. Yet he had sat frozen upon their purple couch the entire time he was at home that week, polluting his mind with vivid images of betrayal, wishing and wishing that Lea would send him a text, or call to clear toxin away. (Lea does, of course, send texts and call. He doesn’t miss a night, morning or afternoon, tiny texts and lovey-dovey stickers sent in between meetings.)

When Lea comes home Sunday morning, Isa greets him with a fervent kiss, pushing him against the wall, pouring his frustrations into Lea’s soon-to-be swollen lips. Isa silences the awful poison produced by his own toxic thoughts that had tainted his love black, and finds the truth in Lea’s touches that ache for him as much as he does Lea. They make love the entire Sunday, go to work late the next day.

By then, Isa’s love had been cleansed fresh.

***

It had been easy to ignore the voice at the back of his mind that told him Isa had a bad past with an ex-lover. Lea convinced himself that for as long as he pours Isa all his love, Isa would learn there’s nothing to fear. He would be alright.

As the years pass, however, he learns of more broken bits underneath Isa’s beautiful shell, hidden layer beneath layer. Rather than shut Isa’s brokenness off, Lea listens. He knows Isa keeps a lot to himself, which Lea respects. Instead, he always keeps a hand outstretched to let Isa know he’s still with him, ready to lend an ear, a shoulder to cry on. He hasn’t left him all these years, and he doesn’t intend on doing so in the future. Lea is here with him, through the struggle and pain, the joys and blessings.

If Isa needs it, he’ll keep kissing his temple, or suck juices from his heated skin, or whisper “I love you”s in languages both intelligible and not, all so Isa can push away the fears he has no reason to keep locked in.

DAY 06 (AUG 2, W): SCHOOL DAYS* / ORGANIZATION XIII

Isa learned the hard way that having many friends doesn’t necessarily mean there are just as many people out there concerned for him. Through his years in school, he made friends with, and eventually gave his heart to, the wrong kinds of people. These failed relationships, platonic or romantic, had left him broken, for no matter how much he pulled the other person in order to keep whatever’s between them whole, none of them pulled him right back. No one wanted him.

When Lea found him at the garden that day, celebrating someone else’s happiness when he knows he can never find his own, Isa had already become bitter and grey, convinced he is unable to love and be loved in turn.

Lea—crazy hair in the color Isa despised, looking at Isa like he’s all that matters in the world, every touch true and full of love.

He’d been saved.

***

Lea had always been surrounded by people, and early on did he pick up who’s to be trusted, who should not, and who can be manipulated. He wasn’t one of the best students—both in terms of grades or attitude. He’d been a bully, and learning of how Isa used to be as a kid, it scares him to think he himself would’ve been on the bullying side.

He’s happy he met Isa when he did.

Isa—smooth hair in the color Lea had always dreamed of, a gaze of love with a layer of ‘When will you leave me?’ underneath that Lea always dares to prove wrong, every touch true and full of love.

In Isa’s eyes, it may be him that Lea saved, not considering how he saved Lea from becoming the horrible person he surely would have been had he not found this genuine love they share.

DAY 07 (AUG 7, M): FREE They were both saved. And they both will keep pulling each other close. Defying fate when it attempts to pull them apart. Holding each other with tender fingers, clinging onto each other with desperate arms, mouths hungering for passion only each other could give.

Together they are not halves of the same whole. They are two different people, coexisting in a world they carve with their own hands.

With the power they hold, they stay together for the rest of their days, conquering no matter what challenge comes their way.

They are Lea and Isa. They are each other’s love.

End notes: Aaaaaanndd that’s it! Thank you for reading this far, and for your time. I hope you enjoyed these tiny drabbles.

I’ll be rambling a little bit now.

My apologies this strategy may have been some sort of cheating the prompts. I started writing these a week before the event started, and it had been my plan to post these drabbles on the assigned days themselves. I would have posted Day 1, but I got scared, feeling like posting such few words was a half-assed effort compared to those who post full fics or drawings or videos. In the end, however, my guilt won. I figured I should participate in the event I organized since I hadn’t the past two years. I suppose it’s a small attempt to get back into it. I hope next year I can write full entries and give this ship I love justice.

What? Is anyone still reading this far into my ramble? Ahaha. Thank you truly for your time. Please have a great day!

[artsymk-blog]

The Makings of a Shard - Sister Claire fanfiction (on-going)

No one really talks of empathy as being dangerous or magical. It is to understand another’s frame of reference, an important aspect of societal collaboration, and nothing more. But that isn’t true: empathy is the strongest magic a person can have, and the most dangerous to the one who wields it.

Thomasine was a loving person who cared with all her being. She was much beloved in her town simply for her kindness and willingness to help wherever she could. When others suffered, she desperately tried to ease their pain. When they expressed joy, she radiated in kind. She had always been empathic, so quick to understand, to feel what others felt, and take it in like it was hers. To empathize with others, to take a bit of that burden, was a calling she was born with. She had the makings to be a remarkable healer, to take pain away as mama and papa had done all those years ago. The trouble is: no one taught her how to let it go.

She would never learn how to use her magic effectively, nevermind safely. No one in town knew how to teach such a thing. How do you even begin to express letting go, releasing energy, an exhale not for breath?  So she held onto what was never her burden, obsessively focusing on them in the attempt to distinguish which were hers, and which she felt responsible for hoarding.

When she was little, old enough to walk and talk, old enough to realize communication moved beyond feelings and expressions, she was able to articulate how she had healed the little bird’s foot, and how she in turn would have to walk with a cane for the rest of her short life. And so Thomasine grew from a sweet albeit consistently hurting child with wild dark hair, vibrant gray eyes, and sun kissed skin, to a very young woman with premature gray hairs along her scalp, a stormy gaze, and the resulting bronze complexion that occurred from being outside often. At puberty, what was initially whispers, the pain she could not reach nor heal, became as clear as the church bells ringing at noon. There were so many voices calling out, crying out It hurts it hurts it hurts Help me help me help Please Her guardian, Mrs. Hubert, would find her calling out in her sleep, her nightdress and bed sheets slick with perspiration, tears streaming from her face, helplessness radiating from her wordless sobs. It progressed to sleepless nights, to limping back and forth to the window in the attempt to pinpoint where the pain was, to muttered conversations with no one. By the time the Helsings were notified of her affliction and the Bright One was in the early stages of her celebrity, Thomasine had left to find what called out to her. She left to help the shards. -- Mother Abraham was taking in Mrs. Hubert’s kitchen with interest. The short woman’s hands were shaking, causing milky tea to splatter on the dining room table. “W-we suspected she could hear shards, but when the nightmares started, we just d-didn’t know h-how to help her,” Mrs. Hubert cried. “A-and then we heard about The Bright One, h-how she helped shards. But Thomasine never grew horns when she helped others... s-she j-just -” “- Kept it inside unless the pain was physically manifested, yes?” Mother Abraham responded kindly. Mrs. Hubert put down her tea and reached for a handkerchief. Her otherwise lovely ashen hands were white with tension. She blew her nose. “Yes.” “Has she ever witnessed a shard?” Abraham asked, observing the artwork hung around the room. They were all Thomasine’s, vivid with color and defined by emotion. Stunning work, really, Abraham lamented. “N-no. Her parents were gifted healers who routinely traveled,” Mrs. Hubert said, the tears resuming. “Their caravan was found two hundred kilometers north from here, with ob-obvious signs of shard activity among the debris. G-god, she was so young...,” she paused, wiping her tears. “Since then we put up wards every five kilometers, enough for our people to travel to Revelation without concern. They’re regularly replaced. It’s why the children are allowed to play so far out in the neighboring meadows and forests: w-we don’t have shards. Haven’t since... since...” “I see,” Abraham murmured. “It’s all my fault,” Mrs. Hubert wailed. “We should have done something the minute she showed us her foot after healing that bird. W-we didn’t know w-who to reach out to... she’s a good girl, a loving girl.” There was pleading in the woman’s eyes. Abraham patted the older woman’s hand sympathetically. Both women were mothers to children not biologically theirs, but their suffering was nevertheless an awful thing to see. “We’ll see what we can do, Mrs. Hubert,” Mother Abraham said, getting up from the table. “I have brought my best trackers. Wherever she is, we’ll find her, and we’ll help in any way we can.” Mrs. Hubert nodded once before gathering her teacup, shaking terribly, hiccuping with grief. Unable to do more for the woman, Abraham put her teacup in the sink and left the house where her entourage was waiting. The sky lions were popular with the town’s children, who were petting them gently and feeding them cured meat. “Helsings,” she called out, mounting her sky lion, “to the air.” The sky lions broke into a gallop before taking flight, their strong wings creating currents and dust storms by the townspeople below. “What’s our heading, Mother?” a Helsing called to her. “Two hundred kilometers north. And quickly.” -- Contrary to popular belief, Thomasine could walk quickly when she wanted to. Her limp wasn’t painful, just awkward to move around. The cane provided support, a third leg used strictly for balance. She hated the pity she was given for it. All it did was make her feel sorry for herself. It took away the focus of what was really important, like helping others. What was painful was the buzzing in her mind, the growing anxiety that consumed her. When it got this bad, it made it hard to focus on anything else. She traveled along the road, noting with pride the wards strategically placed every five kilometers. Redemption’s warders were a large team of talented individuals constantly going back and forth 200 kilometers in every direction, like circular breathing as they renewed and revitalized the wards. Outward, inward. Rest. Outward, inward. Rest.  She had been traveling for two weeks now, and the wards were getting scarce. She was nearing the edge of where safety ended, and where the shards began. Thomasine shivered, but not from cold. The pain was calling, and it was getting louder. She walked to a clearing where a gurgling creek dominated the center. It was a beautiful light, hitting the trees with a marvelous golden hue, the branches forming clustered rays that caused the ground to shine in contrast to the shaded canopy of the forest. She sighed in awe, taking in as much detail as possible. If she did more work around the town when she returned, perhaps she could buy gold leaf to recreate the scene as an “I’m sorry for worrying you” present for Mrs. Hubert. Her heart hurt. Mrs. Hubert must be very worried by now. There was a large flat boulder along the creek where she rested. The water was the perfect temperature to press on her neck, and crystal clear to drink. Being near water was calming for Thomasine. It ebbed the pain, if only a little. She pulled from her sack dried oat thins, a handful of freshly picked berries, and her map. Judging by the markers, she was just another hour or so away from the shrine. When her parents had died, the ward team cleaned up what they could and made a permanent shrine out of the least damaged caravan. It became tradition for any warder going in that direction to leave a small trinket or offering as good luck for a shardless day. She had only gone the once to pay her respects and say goodbye. There hadn’t been much to send back. The berries were plump and red with a sickly sweet flavor and a bitter aftertaste. They helped cover the oat thins’ blandness, a nice change of pace. After lunch she washed her laundry and laid it out to dry on the rock under the high noon sun, and laid down. She closed her eyes, and allowed herself a brief respite. --

Thomasine awoke in agony, clutching her abdomen. She called out wordlessly and turned over, retching and coughing, clawing her way to the water. She bent forward on her knees and elbows, and used her free hand to cup a mouthful of water to her drying lips.

Swallowing the water felt like glass in her throat, a sensation she did not want to experience in a hurry. It did nothing to help with the increasing dehydration. If anything, it made the pain worse.

Everything about her felt sharp: the pain, her heightened senses, the way the environment looked. Everything she touched hurt her to do so, even her own hands grasping at her stomach in the attempt to knead the nausea and pangs of discomfort. She crawled back to her sack and pulled out what medicines she had, which wasn’t much. Aside from the minor injuries anticipated in such a journey, she wasn’t prepared for anything serious.

And that was her first mistake, she reflected, coughing into her hand. She hadn’t really thought about how serious this actually was.

And that was her second mistake, she again reflected, noting the dark blood in her palm. She hadn’t really paid attention to which wild berries were safe to eat.

She had nothing to aid her, nothing to cure whatever toxins were coursing through her body from a handful of berries she found along the road. All Thomasine could do was lie there, feverishly sweating, her limbs growing heavy, and the sharpness of the world slowly becoming fuzzy. Clutching her sack close to her, she curled around it in a fetal position, and fell into the darkness of unconsciousness.

Less than ten kilometers away, a shard sensed someone dying badly. They turned to the direction of the torment and began their arduous creep forward.

--

There. Thirty kilometers away. There you are.

Mother Abraham turned her sky lion due east, urging the beast to fly harder. The other Helsings followed, pushing their steads to match hers.

Thomasine had a week’s head start, albeit on foot and with more breaks than the typical traveler, but a week was a week regardless. Mother Abraham had brought the best with her, and even the sky lions sensed the urgency to get to their target. So on they flew, their great wings powering through the sky in long, consistent beat. Indeed, the young woman had a week’s head start, with no actual knowledge of traveling in the wild, no idea what terror a shard inflicted on itself and others. The moment the Helsing left Mrs. Hubert’s home, a home surrounded by the artwork of such a compassionate and loving person, she knew she wasn’t bringing back Thomasine alive.

She was going to find, and dispatch, a new shard.

---