#most of these drawings are from a little bit before baby branch came in to their lives

[zivazivc]

i have the usual brainrot so here's a bunch of drawings of the brozone bros standing in the void

something something their paint brush hair is just a stage look, they are actually their parents' children

[nixoon-again]

Miles loves looking at the stars.

For most of his life, it was the only form of comfort available to him. On those dark nights when he'd bolt up from a night terror, breathless, trembling and drenched in his own sweat, he'd crawl out of his current resting place and find a tall tree to sit in so he could get a clear view of the night sky above him. He'd sit there, up on the highest branch of that tree — the rough and quick climbing would tear at the seams of his old shirt that felt more like a rag than an article of clothing — spending hours upon hours with his head turned upwards to look at the night sky. He'd worry not for the pain his neck would be in later nor the hours spent sleepless, gazing upon the twinkling little lights against the ethereal blanket of the universe providing a substantial alternative to slumber.

When he couldn't sleep, too tired of tossing and turning on the cold grounds of the forest just outside the village, or when he was hurt badly enough that he couldn't muffle his cries of pain to stay hidden, he'd find a higher place to spend the night stargazing and the night sky was the only thing he could have had to himself, making sure to find a secluded and quiet place where no soul could find him under the endless sea of the stars.

Although climbing the trees always proved to be a bit of a difficult task for him, the tradition continued for what felt like ages. 

Miles loves the stars.

He enjoyed climbing taller places to see them too.

But Miles doesn't like his hands.

His hands always make climbing difficult — they make everything difficult.

He preferred using his twin tails to fly up to higher places instead but the villagers left those appendages unmovable more often than not. It hurt too much to fly with them. His wings were out of the question — having lost most of their function at such a young age, he couldn't fly with them. He considered himself lucky when he could move them just enough to cover himself on colder nights when his tails couldn't provide enough warmth for him, too malnourished to develop a winter coat.

That left him with his hands to climb as his last option — his hands that are marred with little scars, his hands that can't let life survive, can't hold on to anything or anyone alive, his hands that took away all forms of life on contact and—

He never had gloves, he could hold nothing.

(He would be gifted some later by his saviour and he'd learn they do little to help.)

He still remembers when he tried to put a little baby flicky that had fallen from its nest back. Its mother came back to find it dead.

Needless to say, climbing higher places when he couldn't let his hands touch them directly was hard, it hurt.

But Miles loves the stars.

He can handle being a little hurt to get the things he loves.

(And, Chaos, will those words come back for him.)

He shifts so he can wrap his tails around his body a bit more comfortably — looking at the crackling campfire, Miles thinks that regardless of it all he hadn't needed climbing any high places in a while now. He's content with how the stars look from the ground. He's in no rush to find comfort, they're gonna be here longer than he will be so it's all good. 

Besides Miles has been granted other forms of comfort too, something he never even fathoms would be true for him one day.

Something is softly deposited atop his head with a playful ruffle accompanying it, drawing a short lived giggle out of the fox kit before he swats the mischievous hands away with no ill intent. Miles doesn't need to look to see that the flower crown given to him by his companion is as perfect and beautiful a craft as always.

The hedgehog sits beside him on the log with a hum, eyes closed as he stretches his limbs with his signature cheeky grin.

Miles goes back to looking at the fire, bringing his knees close to his chest and hugging them tightly.

“Tails?”

Ah.

That's right, his name isn't Miles anymore.

“Mhm?”

“Whatcha thinking about, bud?”

“Nothin’,” He replies with a smile and Sonic doesn't ask him further. 

Instead, the hedgehog simply opts to loop an arm around the fox and pull him in for a one sided hug several moments later. 

Miles— no, Tails rests his head on the other's shoulder and uncurls a tail to wrap it around Sonic's torso instead. 

Sonic never really needed any words to know when Tails is thinking about Miles.

And surely, it has been a while since Tails last thought about Miles — about that near feral little abandoned fox kit who was too terrified at the idea of touching anything alive. Hurt, scared, malnourished and all alone hiding in that forest around his old village where kids liked hunting him for sport. Tails is quite a bit different from Miles, however, seeing as Tails happens to be healthy, not nearly as afraid of every shadow at the corner of his vision, not nearly as alone, rarely ever hurt but that's on his own clumsiness and not some kind of harm done to him by another person and he's most definitely not alone anymore.

Sonic is here.

And thanks to him, he's not nearly as afraid of his hands as he used to be. Not around his big brother at least.

Tails thinks about that last bit and, almost on autopilot, he grabs Sonic's free hand in his own and the hedgehog gently gives his smaller hand a squeeze in return. A gesture they've shared since they've known each other, one that leaves no place for words. It serves as a silent reminder, a hushed sign, a quiet indication for the fox that Sonic isn't going anywhere, that Sonic won't be hurt by simply having the fox around, that somehow Sonic beats all odds against the curse Miles bore and passed onto Tails and remains unaffected under his fingertips. Gloves or not, unlike Miles, Tails won't hurt Sonic. Somehow Sonic makes sure of it always.

Miles loved the stars.

Tails does too.

But he's just fine with this one.

The stars may crumble in his hands but he'll always have his brother.

And he's grateful for that.

_____

Sonic is sick.

Tails doesn't know what went wrong.

He was perfectly fine, perfectly healthy. Sonic always made sure they both had more than enough to eat, they both got plenty of sleep (mostly) and they haven't travelled to any places where Sonic could have picked up a virus or anything from either. Sonic's not hurt, there are no injuries on his body and yet he looks so, so horribly pained that it's starting to hurt Tails as well. 

It looks bad, Tails isn't any doctor and neither does he do as much as recognize Sonic's condition as something he knows of or has read in some book, and yet it looks bad.

It scares him.

(He's not ready to accept how the hollow lifeless look in those emerald eyes mimic those of a flicky he once tried to help.)

Sonic didn't come down with something all of a sudden, he didn't look like he'd been depleted of all his energy right after sleeping a full night right away. It happened slowly, gradually and Tails wants to punch himself for not catching the signs early on, for not getting him proper help at the first sign of the unusual wobble in Sonic's smile. 

(It's funny because Tails did notice but every time he did as much as try to ask Sonic if he was okay, he was immediately brushed off with a, “I'm fine, don't worry.”)

The should haves and could haves don't really matter anymore, the problem is already out of his hands — not like it ever was in his control but now? Tails can't even remotely help his brother. 

His condition keeps getting worse. Each passing day, Sonic gets hauntingly slower. He sleeps for longer, yet the are dark circle imminent under his eyes — the emeralds that user to be brimming with life were now left devoid of soul and feeling. As if something had sucked the life out of them. 

Sonic is hurting.

But he won't tell Tails even though the kit can see the pain in his movements.

It's a terrifying notion; Tails can see Sonic losing a battle against an unseen opponent but can't help him, won't be allowed to help him.

One day Sonic doesn't wake up until sun begins to set again. That day, Tails finds himself crying.

He doesn't know what to do. He's confused and scared, too afraid to shake Sonic awake — too afraid to touch him.

Did he do this?

Is he hurting his big brother?

It doesn't sit right with him. He hates this feeling of guilt brewing in his gut. In the four years of knowing him, Tails has found that whatever curse his hands bore never effected Sonic. 

And yet…

Looking at his sleeping form, his tired face and the pain behind closed eyes of an even closed and reserved hedgehog who is the only person Tails could love and trust, knowing a goodbye isn't in their story anytime soon — he can't help the tears that roll freely down his muzzle.

Because its not fair. 

It's not fair that he has to be afraid if losing the only family he has — the family he oh so painstakingly found. It's not fair that he has to sit and cry silently because he doesn't know how to heal his brother. It's not fair that Sonic won't let him in, won't confide in him even when he has asked the kit to do just that with him so many times before. It's not fair that, out of all people, Sonic has to be the one suffering.

Before Tails could pray for whatever has befallen his big brother to happen to him instead, Sonic stirs awake.

He sits up, his action slower than his usual speedy self would allow him.

His quills are a mess and his eyes look so tired. He is quick to hide the grimace of pain that flares up in his chest as he moves his body to look at Tails.

Ocean eyes already puffy with tears and throat constricted with emotions that he has been silently crying only allow the kit to tilt his head to the side with a small frown as if asking Sonic what's wrong instead of his usual greeting.

Sonic looks at him and yet Tails feels those emerald eyes to be anywhere but on him. The silence that stretches between them as Sonic finds his words to answer the unspoken question is suffocating. 

Then, he confesses,

“I'm dying.”

Neither look at each other.

“I know.”

Tails barely keeps his voice from breaking.

And that's perhaps the last words they share in a long, long time.

Tails silently wonders if it would've been better if he never found a family at all.

[lilythesingingwitch]

And I'm back with some Poppy and the Phantoms AU stuff

Once again, excuse the lack of tails in the drawings, I always forget to draw them, but they will be present when I have the time to digitalize these

So, we're staring off with Floyd

The second youngest in the family and the pianist of the group, the sensitive one (title given by JD when they started the band). He was pretty young when JD came up with the idea of a band, but was pretty excited nonetheless. When he noticed that the arguments between his brothers were becoming a more frequent thing on day to day basis, he decided to do everything in his power to help his brothers get along, despite being him being the youngest band member. However, on one night, when they were practising for their most important concert yet, Floyd was unable to stop his brothers from picking a fight with one another that ended in Bruce and Clay declaring they are leaving the band, and John, Bruce and Clay leaving home all together when he was only 10. He stays with Branch and grandma Rosiepuff, hoping that his brothers will eventually come back or at least reach out. During the 6 years that they're absent, he only ever recieves a card from Bruce, and the next time he hears about his brothers, is when police and ambulance cars park outside of their house with the news that all three of his brothers are dead. Next 15 years of his life are spent taking care of Branch and healing from the past 2 decades, with Viva, Clays friend, helping him along the way, since they both lost someone important to them.

(Things written on the paper)

Played the keys (or piano) in Brozone

Was always trying to get his brothers to stop fighting

Stayed with Branch and grandma when others left

Went gray for a bit after the new of his brothers deaths

Was 16 when they died

Is 31 at the time that Poppy discovers the phantoms

He and Branch still live together

Cried when he realized that Poppy's band are the "holograms" of his brothers (he also knows they're not holograms)

Branch's second biggest hype-man when he confesses to Poppy (John is the first)

Next up, we have our favourite hermit, Branch

When Branch was born, he had about 3 years to enjoy a normal family life with all of his brothers before his oldest brother John Dory starts teaching him how to play guitar with a promise that he'll become part of the band one day. He always looked up to all of his brothers and how talented they were, he really wanted to be apart of it, so he always attended their practices and spent hours a day playing guitar. He always witnessed their arguments and fights, and while he was always upset when they did that, Floyd was always there to comfort him, and his brothers always apologized to him for making him watch them fight like that. Then, one day, his brothers leave after a big fight, and only Floyd stays. He would always ask him why their brothers left and when are they coming back, and Floyd would always just smile and say "They just need some time to cool off, they'll be back soon". But as he grew older, he noticed hope in his brothers eyes slowly dim the more he would tell him that. And then, a few weeks after he turns 10, they receive the new that his brothers are not coming back. And the next thing he knows, he and Floyd are blowing out his brothers' birthday candles.

(Things written on the paper)

Was going to be secondary guitar in Brozone, but the band disbanded

His brothers' deaths affect him more than he likes to admit, mostly because he knew to for only a little while and only ever learns more about them from Floyd

Still plays guitar, but prefers to spend his time elsewhere

Was 10 at the time his brothers died

Best friends with Poppy (and is trying to confess his love for her)

And last up for today, Viva la viva baby

Viva was one of the biggest fans of Brozone when they became a band, mostly because her best friend was apart of it, and she really wanted to support him. She was also the one who would always comfort Clay when he would come to her after a frustrating practice session. Then, when she's 12, Clay comes to her asking if he could stay for a while, only to learn that he, Bruce and JD left the band and their house. He really didn't feel like going back to his own house after storming out like that, but he also knew he couldn't stay at Viva's for too long, since their family had a lot on their hands as is (with Poppy just turning 2), so he spent there a few days before leaving to stay with another friend of theirs. After that, he and Viva would hang out all the time, since he finally had the time to do so, and while they were pretty much polar opposites (Viva was always a ball of energy, joy, chaos and silliness, Clay was serious, read sad books all the time and was the one who kept Viva in check), that didn't stop Viva from falling in love with him. When she turned 18, she even got into the same university as Clay to be close to him, when one day she gets stuck in the uni building during the fire, and Clay runs in to help her. While Viva is panicking, thinking she'll never see her family again, never see her baby sister grow up, Clay turns to her and confesses his feelings to her. Before Viva can respond, she gets pushed out of the building right as it collapses. While getting treated in the hospital, she's constantly asking if Clay is ok, only to learn that he died. At the funural, she and Floyd start talking and become friends, helping each other heal as years go by.

(Thing written on the paper)

Poor Viva lost her best friend (almost boyfriend) and then her mom

Was in love with Clay

Lives with Poppy and their dad

Has scars and burn marks from the incident (Their not visible in the drawing but I promise they're there)

Was 18 when Clay died

Is 33 at the time that Poppy discovers the phantoms

Doesn't like open fire

She and Floyd kinda become friends as a way of coping with Clays death

Also cried when she saw Poppy performing with the "holograms"

Neckless is a gift from Clay

Realized that Poppy is friends with ghosts after a series of things happening around the house and her sister acting weird

No bonus doodle this time, hadn't had the time to do much drawing, but I hope you still liked what I prepared

[blade-that-was-broken]

I don’t know why asking but I’m curious.

How did you first find out about Trolls? What did you think about Trolls? What were your favorite character?

About TBT

How did you think and feel about Branch when TBT first released? About fact he has four brothers? How do you feel about JD, Clay, Floyd and Bruce when you first saw them? Sure they have reasons why they left but they weren’t thinking straight, their reasons were stupid and worse they even decided to leave and BOOM! We know what happened in TBT.

(Poor Baby Branch being left in Trolls Tree in the middle of Bergen Town and poor JD…)

How did you think about bunker that it was the originally for his brothers as Branch built?

What’s your favorite member of BroZone, other than JD and Branch?

Where did you think Clay was after he left? There was a theory that he didn’t leave Trolls Tree but I’m not sure about that one.

Did you know that Branch was originally going to be kidnapped by Velvet and Veneer but that was changed to Floyd, that I heard about that. It would have been so much angst! :(

What do you think Trolls 4 going to be about if there’s one? (Idk why I’m asking that 😅)

Oh boy... I'm not sure about the first time I saw Trolls.

I have several younger siblings so I have watched a TON of animated movies over the course of my teenage and young adult years (I'm still a young adult, I'm not that old I promise lol) and several of my siblings do NOT shy away from the animated kids stuff. My guess is one of my sisters put it on and since most of us like the musical movies, it kind of worked out. Why I latched onto it for my hyperfixation a few months ago? I have ZERO idea.

My favorite character was Branch. Introvert, sarcastic, organizational nut, overthinking paranoid? Yeah, might as well be me with a little extra trauma and crazy. (After my fixation started, JD was added to that favorite. I'm sorry just that's how it is) I had watched movie one and two and whatever before but I didn't think much of it. And then the third movie came out and my sister watched it and I decided to rewatch the entire movie series - with most of the tv shows - as well because that is what I do.

I binge watch shows and movies and draw. I'm a big homebody and most of my time is spent drawing so that's kind of what worked. And then I watched the third movie and then watched it again and upon the second watching, zeroed in on John Dory's "thought you were dead" and "came back" parts and well, hyperfixation galore.

I didn't really watch anything as it was released; as I didn't really follow Trolls that closely. Like I said, my fixation isn't very old. So I didn't really care? Okay so when I watched TBT for the first time, my favorite character was Branch and the other brothers, I didn't have much opinion on? Except for Floyd who I LOATHED. The others leaving? Fine, whatever, I didn't really see it as much as child abandonment in the sense that others do at the time because he was left with his grandmother who, as the adult - should have been raising him anyways - so I guess I didn't see it the way some others did.

For my dislike of Floyd in the beginning, it was because of that promise. The others didn't promise to come back so I didn't really hold them to that standard but Floyd promised to return (there is also him telling Branch to take care of grandma which... I GET why he said that and it makes sense too for a kid but Branch... Branch probably didn't take it the way kids normally do) and he never did. Twenty years. Look, I get that the writers probably did not have that backstory when they were first writing the first trolls movie, I get it but AUGHHHHH

The second time I watched TBT, I got a bit more of a opinion on the brothers. Eventually my dislike of Floyd softened, mostly because I figure he's not as grudge-holding as some of the others. Trust me, I know how holding grudges can eat you up. Clay kind of annoyed me; like he felt so childish with the whole "I'm serious and boring thing" like dude, just chill. I like Brandy, don't get me wrong, but the whole giants/muppets thing threw me off guard and it kind of wigs me out just a bit. Idk, it's probably just me.

Also them getting so upset with JD when he slips up on Bruce's name in kind of a heated situation irritates the heck out of me. Don't ask my why, it just did.

Anyways, I don't have a good memory so idk on most of this stuff lol

I think it's really sweet that the bunker was built for his brothers too. I know Branch does that specific thing for Floyd, like, that's his favorite and whatever, but it's nice that everyone was included. It was kind of like that holding onto hope that they would at least come and visit or something; like they would always have a place with him. Which pisses me off more about none of them coming back. I'm not saying they had to stay but geez, they coulda called or whatever. This is mostly with Bruce and maybe Floyd. We don't really know what Floyd was up to so idk. Bruce literally just settled down and pretty much entirely forgot about his family point blank. Clay has a bit of an excuse, since Viva was protective and he had to lead people. John has a bit of an excuse too considering he thought Branch was dead.

I think the Clay one is kind of hard. I don't... I'm not sure if I think that Clay and Viva were friends before the escape. And I'm not sure if Clay stayed in the tree or not. Like, that's a hard one. Cause idk if that would be worse, if he was in the tree and never even visited Branch. I know the timeline between everything is SUPER sketchy and aging for Trolls seems to be... confusing at best (considering Branch is like a couple months old when he's performing?? Or something?? Idk) so who knows how much time passed between the band breakup and the escape.

My guess? Not a lot of time is between the two. I know Branch seems to "look" 5-6 or whatever in the first movie flashbacks but who even knows with Trolls; everything about them is wild and uncertain and the writers certainly don't seem to care about timelines/continuity that much. It's fine, I don't really mind, since it is a kids movie but whatever.

I did hear about Branch being the one to be captured once upon a time. I think that's a bit too much angst; the dude is literally full of angst. I'm kind of glad that it wasn't him but I'm also not entirely fond of how Floyd is treated as a character? Idk, I guess that is mostly up for interpretation. I think it would also be really hard to find John Dory, considering he travels a lot and thinks everyone is dead lol. Or at least, Branch. Well, up until after TWT. So... I'm not sure?

Trolls 4... hmmm. I'm curious on how long they are going to milk this. I'm a little worried if they do because if the brothers are in it, John's just going to be treated like the butt of the joke like in TBT and I'm not a huge fan of that, as much as I would love to see more of the bros. I'd like to think they'd do something either more world-wide centric with the other tribes or something a bit more Poppy-centric, since TBT is pretty much solely Branch-centric. Maybe some Viva and Poppy bonding.

[mouthfulloftoothpasterry]

A day with the Rowlands

Summary: The Styles family spends the evening with the Rowland family and announces something big!

Warnings/ disclaimer: it’s a new year for them! So it’s spring all over again just a different year :)

“Hello!” Mitch cheers walking into Harry and Y/n’s dimly lit cottage, the smell of a warm strawberry bread zipping through the air and into his nose. Harry peeks out from the corner of the kitchen, turning down the Fleet wood mac that was blasting through the old brown record player he had gotten from his dad when he first moved out. “Hello!” he sings back, greeting the family while he dries his hands on a cartoon frog printed tea towel.

Asher waddles over to Harry greeting him with a big smile on his face, showing off his small baby teeth. “Hi uncle H!” Asher exclaims before distracting himself with his best friend, Violet. Harry chuckles, brushing his hand over the back of the boy's head, moving aside to go greet his parents and baby sister. Y/n continues to work on the strawberry bread, saying ‘Hi’  to Asher and letting him hop up on the step stool that Violet was just on, asking her a couple of questions about what she was doing.

Sarah walks over, holding her six month old baby girl, Opal, in a black babybjorn strapped across her chest, the little girl bouncing her arms up and down. “Hi!” she smiles, Y/n turning around to greet the mother and her baby. The girls chat, Y/n cooing at Opal while they talk. “Okay, let’s head outside!” Harry announces, grabbing the snack trays they had just prepared and leading the way to the back door of the cottage that he for some reason always forgets to oil up.

The parents settle into the white patio furniture sitting close to the duck pod, sitting around and drinking wine while their little ones play together.

“How are the kids?” Mitch asks, sitting with his lanky legs crossed while he holds a stemmed wine glass between his fingers. Harry glances over at his wife, seeing if she wants to answer Mitch’s simmering question. “They are good, we just started homeschooling Violet and she’s actually enjoying it.” Harry slowly draws patterns on his wife’s thigh while he talks, giving her a gentle love pat while they can’t be cuddled and as mushy as they usually are.

“Oh, you decided to home school her?” Sarah pulls her attention to the adult conversation after watching the kiddies to make sure they didn’t wander off too close to the pond and take a dip.

Harry and Y/n nod, Y/n resting her hand over her husbands and giving it a squeeze. “Yeah, Violet has been loving it. She sings her ABC’s all over the house, and baby shark too. We have also been trying to teach her to write her name.” y/n explains, setting her wine glass (that is just filled with apple juice) down while she glances back at the four babies playing together.

The other set of parents smile, Sarah resting a hand over her chest in an awe-ing way. “She’s just adorable.” Mitch says, eating some of the strawberry bread that y/n and Violet had just freshly baked together. Harry and Y/n thank Mitch, the conversation going blank while they all zone in on their children, watching as they play together. Violet hands Asher a red bouncy ball, she was playing with them individually but they are a part of a mini ball pit, her and her brother love playing in that together. They all play together while their parents observe them, the little ones closer to their parents while they roll around in the well taken care of grass, getting grass stains on their onesies.

Violet toddles over to the table the adults were all sat at, standing on her little toes and peeking over the table. She slides her little hand over the snack tray sneakily and takes a good chunk of the strawberry bread, turning quickly, but her mumma is quicker. Y/n wraps an arm around the girl, pulling her back close to the group. “What are you doing with that big piece of bread, missy?” Y/n ask her daughter. Violet instantly puts on a sweet smile, “I’m sharing, mumma!” she says, the cheeky smiling remaining on her face while she speaks in her toddler gibberish. Y/n nods giving Violet the okay to walk back to her friends, who are actually more like family.

They get back to talking, their attention not the best at times from the four kids and the well over a dozen animals living in the backyard. Sarah and Y/n share recipes while Harry and Mitch talk about the animals and work. Mitch and Sarah work at a flower shop. It's actually their very own, they bought the building a couple years ago and started their own business up in the town. Harry visits as often as he can and always ends up buying a big bouquet for Y/n. They always design the most beautiful bundles of flowers.

“Getting a lot of business right now?” Mitch nods at Harry's words, pulling the red wine from his lips, the crimson liquid leaving a stain on his thin lips.

He rests a beat before he answers, swallowing down the wine. “Yeah, it's spring time now so people are buying flowers a lot more. Never like February though.” Mitch always rambles on about how Sarah and his flowers are such a hot commodity during February since valentine's day is just around the corner and people like to ‘wow’ their partners all month long. “Yeah,” Harry hums, closing his eyes, relaxing and listening to the wind brush the trees around, the leaves rustling together and branches hitting each other.

They decided it’s time for a proper snack break, (they had planned a late lunch together) so they put the kiddies playing to a stop, telling them it’s time to eat and properly hydrate.

Their parents serve them, sticking some fruit and some pinwheels on their plate made with vegan meat. They started getting it not too long ago and it’s a good way of tricking their kids into thinking they are eating real meat, even though they haven’t actually even meat before.

Y/n feeds Forest a bottle while they all eat, he's started to hold the bottle himself so she can actually eat with everyone.

They eat in silence for a while, their toddlers babbling while they eat, training fruit with each other because Violet likes strawberries more than pineapple and Asher likes pineapple more than strawberries. They sit around and eat a bit more, waiting for the sun to go down so they can start their bonfire and roast some marshmallows for the s’mores they planned to make.

**

The sun has finally gone down, the temperature has dropped making both family's wrap up in the quilts Harry brought out, violet of course helping him by lugging the end of one.

They are sitting around a campfire, cuddled up in some wooden folding chair that Harry had picked up at a vintage furniture store a couple of months ago. The two family’s roast marshmallows, the crackle of the fire getting louder and louder.

Asher and Violet sit together, in the same wooden chair, bundled under one of Violet's favorites quilts, their daddy’s sitting on their side of them. “Here, baby honey” Harry says, blowing on the small s’more he had made violet. She smiles big, taking it between her chubby hands, blowing on it like her daddy had before her so she wouldn’t burn her heart shaped lips. She watches the way Asher looks at her chocolate and marshmallow treat, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Make Ash s’mores!” She says, leaning over to talk to her “uncle” Mitch. The group laughs, Mitch nodding and poking the marshmallow with a stick to start roasting the marshmallow for his boy. After he roasted the marshmallow he assembled the s’more, giving it to the little boy.

Y/n glances at Harry, making eye contact with her husband for a split second before she looks back at the snapping fire, giving him the hint that she wants to tell their closest friends about baby number three. Harry nods at her, clearing his throat. He drums on his thighs awkwardly now that he has the group's attention. He smiles softly, pushing his circle lenses up his nose, “Um, we have a small announcement, right, doll?” Harry asks, looking at his wife lovingly.

Y/n nods anxiously, smiling back at her husband.

“What’s up, H?” Sarah asks, Opal balanced on the top of her thighs. “Well, we're having baby number three.” Sarah and Mitch gasp, their kiddies remaining unfazed by the announcement since they are too young to understand pregnancy. Mitch and Sarah look at each other, their hands clutched over their mouths while they smile brightly. “You’re pregnant?!” Sarah shouts, standing up and maneuvering around the fire to give the now mother of three a warm hug.

Y/n nods excitedly with a big smile, hugging Sarah from the side since she’s carrying Opal on her hip.

“Congrats man!” Mitch says, giving Harry a big hug and a couple of pats on the back. Harry bashfully thanks his best friend, letting Mitch break the hug before he sits back down. “So three kids now? Is this the last Styles baby?” Harry shrugs at Mitch's questions, rubbing his eyes, trying to wipe off the big grin that spreads up to his eyes.

“Maybe, we never know” Y/n answers for him, Harry threading their hands together. The couple across from them smiles, happy for their friends.

Y/n and Harry couldn’t be more excited for the third Styles baby. Ever since Harry and Y/n found out about their sprout they have been talking about it non stop. They have talked about the possibility of having another little violet or having another Forest, they both came to the conclusion that they do not care. They want all their babies to be happy and healthy, they don’t care about it being a boy or a girl. They have been discussing thoughts about a nursery for their newest sprout, deciding that they would just have the little one sleep in their room so they all feel safer.

They have never been happier.

Mitch dusts off his hands, sighing. “Well I guess it’s time for us to head home. Thanks for having us over. It was great to see the five of you” Mitch teases, taking the last sip of his wine and smiling as his eyes darting down to y/n’s belly. The adults laugh, standing up to give each other a goodbye hug, saying their goodbyes to one another.

Harry leads them to the door, the kids trailing behind all of them. “Thanks for coming. I’ll see you soon, mate.” Harry says, waving bye to the Rowland family while he grasps the inside of the door. They let out a chorus of “Byes!” Before they all buckle into the car, Harry closes the door while the other family rolls out of their family and through the gate.

“Well, let’s get you monsters to bed.”

Hiii!! Thank you for reading! I’m sorry this is so messy but the third styles baby is official!! they are growing and soon enough will be here!! you guys have been so supportive and amazing with everything, i cant put it into words. Thank you all so much. <3<3 I’m gonna start a tag list (i only have one person so far) so let me know if you wanna be on it please!! you can send in a ask or just dm, whatever!!<3 Thank you again!!

tag list: @iaalien

[alixdelcourt]

Hello hello againnn, tysm for yesterday’s request, I love your writing!<3 I have a new idea I just thought of, tamaki + mha guys/girls (of your choice and if you write fruity fics too) with a reader who draws a lot? And maybe they get caught or they see a sketch of them? If it isn’t so much to ask for- ty!!!

MHA boys x reader who draws a lot

Some fluff and sweetness to brighten your day (I hope so)

Ft : Tamaki, Izuku and Denki

(First pic credits : Peachimis on TikTok)

It’s a beautiful day. The weather is fine: clear blue sky and warm sun. You and Tamaki are strolling in a parc, admiring the nature around and the ambient calm. Your boyfriend carries a wicker basket for you, holding your lunch and stuff in. When you two got hungry, you just settle under a big tree, unwrapping a blanket and having lunch in the branches’ shade. This was the kind of perfect dates that makes you so in love with Tamaki. He’s quiet, and like peaceful time, just like you. Birds of a feather flock together, isn’t it ?

Tamaki’s reading, comfortably leaning against the trunk, and you are scribbling some sketches in your sketchbook. Drawing is a passion, and you can’t help but try to picture whatever’s near you. This sketchbook is your private garden, and Tamaki respects it. He never presses you to show him what you had drawn, he just knows that if you want to, you would come up to him, asking for his opinion about it.

And today, you want to show him the picture of a cute bird who was perched just above your head. You wanted to know if it’s resembling to the model or not. You need an outside look.

“Tamaki ?”

He raised his nose from his book to look at you.

“Yes, (y/n) ?”

“Could you take a look at something ?”

“Of course, honey”

You hand you sketchbook to him, but when he took it from you, a wind blow turned the pages, loosing the small bird’s sketch. And Tamaki came face to face with… himself. It was him, on the drawing. His purple hair, his elf ears, his thin hands… But he was pictured as an angel. It was… really well done, and absolutely lovely.

You quickly shut and take back your sketchbook, brick red colored cheeks. But it was too late. He saw it. And he was hard blushing as well. You were embarrassed. You felt obligated to apologize:

“ I am sorry… Just forget about this… You should never have seen that. It’s bum, anyway… I am sor-”

You can’t continue, because Tamaki arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you to his embrace. He’s still blushing, and can’t hold your gaze, but he wasn’t mad. Not at all. He was softly smiling, burying his nose in your hair. This drawing was the most precious confession you made for him. Even if it wasn’t on purpose.

“It’s not bum. It’s perfect. I love it.”

And before you could add anything else,

“I love you, (y/n).”

Izuku Midoriya is sick again, and stuck in the infirmary. He had a hard time training when he did push too much on himself, and he needs to rest for a few days. You went to check on him with some friends, and poor baby was so anxious about skipping school and having trouble caching up what he missed.

You have a huge crush on Izuku, and in order to help him, and maybe score some points to him, you decided to take double notes in class, writing down in a new notebook, just like those used by Izuku himself. You’ll give to him after school, so you’re not obliged to lend him your messy notes, and he’ll be able to catch up studying in the infirmary. It was a bit hard to order and organize your note taking, but you want it to be well presented for him.

You struggle at the beginning, but get used quickly to write faster in order to double note on your book and his. Even Aizawa noticed and asked what were you doing. He lowkey congrats you for your “team spirit”. You did it all day long, in every class. You can be pride of yourself, it was a great idea.

But you didn’t notice. You didn’t pay attention to your bad habits. You’re an airhead, having trouble concentrating, and you need to focus your mind on something and keep your hands busy with some repetitive moves. Like fold and unfold the corner of the pages, clicking your pen, or just randomly scribbling on your pages’ edges. Little doodles that you don’t even look at. Oblivious drawings of what’s in your head.

Shiny smiling on, you head to the infirmary immediately after the bell ringing. Recovery Girl let you visit Izuku, who was better than yesterday.

“Izuku-kun ! How are you today ? Better ?”

“Yes, thank you for caring, (y/n)”

You took the notebook out of your bag, and give it to him. His name was beautifully calligraphed on it. He blushed a bit, looking at you for some explanations.

“I did this for you ! So you can study like us, even if you are not taking classes. It’s yours, you can keep it ! But since you’re not coming back tomorrow, Recovery Girl told me, I’ll come in the morning to get it back and to take note for you again. Does it sound okay for you ?”

After long minutes of embarrassed and grateful thanks from Izuku, you left him alone to study and rest.

The next day, as promised, you picked his notebook from his nightstand, since he was asleep, and nearly arrived late to your class. You sit at your desk and prepare yourself to take notes. When you open Izuku’s notebook, a fold paper drops from it. Your name was on it, so you unfold it. You freeze, eyes and mouth wide open, skin turning to a scarlet tone. Matching the redness of the heart that was drawn on the paper. A big bright red heart. With Izuku signature. A few moments later, still red, you have to concentrate if you don’t want to miss what Ectoplasm was explaining. Mathematics always give you headache, so you need to concentrate. It was then that you noticed what Izuku probably noticed as well. Little sketches of him. Everywhere. Him in his hero costume, in his school uniform, in school sportswear, smiling, winking, sticking his tongue out, with random little stars and tiny hearts everywhere.

RIP you. And RIP him as well. He wasn’t asleep this morning, he was all flustered and shy. Was your sketches some kind of flirting ? Even if he likes you as well, he just doesn’t know how to deal with this. But nor do you. Poor crushing babies. Good luck.

Denki is playful. No doubt on that. He’s such a flirt with everyone. It’s his personality. He can’t help it. But when he is in love, it gets worse. You won’t say that he was embarrassing you, but you were confused every  time he smiles or winks at you when you two are in class. In the dorms, he would randomly touch your hair, compliment your food, want to sit next to you on the couch… More than with the other girls. You like all those small attentions, but it makes you feel… insecure. Maybe paranoid. Definitely awkward. He gets flirtier and flirtier every day. Like he was waiting for something. But what ?

He was waiting for you to fall in love, and maybe confess to him afterwards. Even if it seems strange, he’s too shy to do it himself. Everyone is used to him being a tease, but how would you react if he started being romantic ? He’s afraid that you may reject him. Poor baby, don’t please, you would break his heart.

But he’s done waiting. You divert all his attention, he can’t think about anything else than you. So he decided to do something. He’ll let you know about his feelings, but not directly , so you none of you would be embarrassed if it doesn’t work. If you don’t like him, you will just ignore it, and he will be fixed. At least, he has to give it a try.

So, an evening, while everyone was in the common space of the dorm, he sneaked in your room, with a little chocolate box and a letter. A long letter explaining everything. His feelings, the fact that he can’t face you and would die collapsing if he ever tries to, and that you’re not obliged to answer. His heart was speed racing in his chest, and it nearly stopped when he noticed your desk board. There was plenty of little drawings pinned on it, from memo’s notes to random papers full of sketches.

Dozens of little Pikachus staring and smiling at him, or at everyone who would sit on the chair. So you. You were surrounded by drawings of the little electric mouse. He approached in order to ogle the details, and he saw it. Some mention of his name. Little “Denki” written here and there. He imagined you, daydreaming and nibbling the tip of your pencil, like you do in class or when you study, and thinking of him. This thought filled him with the courage he was lacking to tell you about his feelings. He just dropped what he was holding, before running to the common space. No time to waste. He already waited too long.

You were sitting on a high stool near the counter, chatting with others and watching Bakugou cooking. Like everyone, you turned your head when you heard quick footsteps arriving. Why was Denki running ?

“(Y/N) !”

You raised an eyebrow, and before you could answer, he pressed his lips against yours and kissed you with all the love he feels towards you. You don’t remember what happened next because your mind just… stopped working.

“What was that for ?”

“The pikachus”

Mina and Denki voices brought you back, before fainting again when you heard the word Pikachu.

_________________________________________

Heeeere :) Hope you'll enjoy it. Let me know if you want me to change or to fix anything, and feel free to request anything else.

[avenging-criminal-bones]

After All This Time || Chapter One

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 1206

Summary: You being a new recruit pissed SSA Aaron Hotchner off. You being smart enough to give Spencer a run for his money pissed him off even more. Really, he just despised your presence. Hated your every move…

Until one day, he didn’t.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: angst, Hotch yells (but we like that here)

A/N: Stuff starts to get set up in this chapter :)

Tag List: @uwu-sebastianstan @piggyinthesea @yoshigguk @scootankle @thatisthemagic @errorcosplay67

* * * * *

Chapter One

You walk through the bullpen, with your hair in a tight ponytail on top of your head. The black flats you wore sliding across the carpet with ease as you walk in with confidence.

There's a whistle to your left and you stop, brows furrowing as you walk towards the- admittedly attractive man- and cross your arms.

"Can I help you?" You speak with an air of authority over the man and wait for his response. The playfulness in his eyes is immediately hardened as he stands and towers over you by a good three inches.

"Agent Derek Morgan of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Are you Y/N L/N?" He looks amused as you shrink down slightly, losing some of that confidence from just a second earlier.

"Um, yes sir. I'm sorry about that. The men at the LA branch were-"

"It's alright, babygirl. You'll just have to get used to me." He doesn't say it in a suggestive manner, just states it as a fact. You can tell that he has a flirty attitude, but the gleam in his eyes just shows that he is like that with everyone. Especially when a very eccentric, blonde woman walks into the room and he whistles again speaking about her being his 'Baby Mama'.

"Just a heads up, we try not to profile each other here. It's like an unspoken rule, so to speak." You turn to where the voice came from and see a very kind, motherly looking woman holding her hand out to introduce herself. "My name is Jennifer Jareau, but the team calls me JJ."

"Y/N L/N. It's nice to meet you," you pause for a moment, watching Derek's interaction on the other side of the room, "Is he always like that?"

A black haired woman answers then, "Yes. Every day, with everybody. You get used to it." She tips her head to you, "Emily Prentiss."

"Agent L/N. My office, please. Now."

You spin at hearing your name and look up to see who you can only assume is Aaron Hotchner. He doesn't wait to send you a smile or a wave, instead opting to spin on his heel and walk into the room that you guess is his office.

Turning back to the two girls who had made you feel welcome, you nodded slightly and said, "It was nice meeting you, but I guess that's my cue."

The women nod, but you don't see them because you're already walking into the head SSA's office.

You knock gently on the door before walking, despite him being the one who asked you to see him.

"Agent Hotchner. It's nice to meet you, I'm-"

"Sit down, L/N."

You obey, and sit a bit straighter than you had been to meet the others. The calming, welcoming nature of the girls was not shared by Hotchner.

Scanning the room, you notice a few things. You aren't aware that you hadn't heeded JJ's advice, and you look for details that will tell you who your new boss really is.

The first thing that you see is the absence of a wedding ring. It draws your attention that a man of his age and position of power isn't married. Subconsciously narrowing your eyes, you see that there is a fading tan line on the same finger.

So he was married.

Tilting your head to the side, you see two drawing that are seemingly by a child. By the looks of it and the minimal errors with staying in the lines, you decide it is a child near the age of six. Probably the same boy in those pictures on his shelf.

His son and his wife? His ex-wife. You correct yourself as your gaze flies back to his bare ring finger.

He doesn't look up from the papers on his desk until you've been quietly observing him for about two minutes.

"Something you'll do well to learn, L/N," his voice, stern and final, pulls you out of your observations, "Is that we don't profile each other here. So I suggest that you stop trying to pick me apart and instead listen very carefully to what I'm about to tell you."

Shocked by the aggressive tone, you can only nod your head.

“Those men and women that you met on your way in? I trust them with my life. You on the other hand? I wouldn’t trust you to make me a coffee if you had the instructions right in front of you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes. I-”

“Yes, what?” He interrupts, glaring down at you from his place behind his desk.

You want to roll your eyes, but as it seems that you already started in his bad side you don’t.

“Yes, sir. I understand. I c an only hope that my performance with whatever case we come across next, that I can change that opinion.” Keeping your pin straight back, you add a pleasant smile to your demeanor in hopes to look less scared.

He looks back down as his paperwork and says, “You are dismissed, L/N.”

Nodding slightly to yourself you stand and try to regain your dignity before stepping out of his office. You take notice that the blinds had been wide open and the crack under the door suggests that anyone in the bullpen would have been able to tell what was said.

Once you get back to the group of your coworkers, you are introduced to Spencer: a young man who seems just as smart as you were told, and Rossi: an older Italian man with a little too much knowledge of cooking.

“JJ, he didn’t tell me where my desk is. Is it the empty one closer to the entrance?” You gesture slightly with your bag.

Slowly she nods and you brush past her with a soft ‘thank you’.

You were warned by Strauss that you would need to be prepared to leave to anywhere in the country at anytime. She mentioned that most of the team has a “go-bag” that they bring with clothing and spare toiletries. So you had brought yours in with you to stash in your desk.

Hoping that no one would say anything to you about what Hotchner had said, you set to work trying to make your desk more your own.

Shuffling through the drawers, you find an old desk tag and pull it out. Derek walks over to you; he had been watching you the whole time.

“Who is ‘Elle Greenaway’? Is she the previous agent that I’m filling in for?” You ask with curiosity.

“Um. Yes. She was. She was shot and killed three months ago.” His voice was solemn and instantly you regretted asking.

“Derek, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I know. It’s okay. That’s probably why Hotch was acting so uptight about you being here in his office.” He patted you on the shoulder and wandered over to the coffee machine that no doubt made shitty coffee.

Something in your gut told you that was not why, but you appreciated the sentiment so you didn’t say anything as he left.

Letting out a long breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, you steel yourself and get to signing on the preliminary paperwork.

[that-one-weeb-but-starwars]

My Love| Echo pt 3

Note: i'll edit this later, my mouth hurts from wisdom teeth removal but wanted to get it out for you.

Warnings: No real warnings, but there is a semi spicey scene and mentions of nudity towards the end, but doesnt go into too far of detail. And Echo's legs are cannoned a bit lower than tcw meaning yes Echos got an ass, but his legs and thighs stuff like that are still metal so

Reader: Male

Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 3.5 | 4 | 5 | 6

Master list

Y/n watched the boys try there food. They're faces lighting up as the room became silent, people busy digging into there food.

Y/n ate his own, his hand on Echo's thigh under the table, Echo's leg touching Y/n's.

"Ma'm this is way way! Better than rations!" Wrecker cheered.

"Im glad you like it so much, so tell me boys. What brought you over here?" Margie asked.

Hunter swallowed his food, "well we wanted to meet Echo's boyfriend Ma'm, we had no idea they had been dating for so long."

It was lucky for the group that talked they stayed together, near the head of the table where Margie sat, a small kid or two down from her.

"Echo's been nothing but a delight. To both my son and my family." Margie praised, "he's a good kid, Im assuming he gets it from his older brothers?"

"Oh...uh." Hunter spoke.

"He's older than us." Crosshair responded for the group.

"Oh?" She smiled, "you learn something new every day."

She looked at Y/n who nodded and smiled, "Yep."

"So where are you boys staying?" She asked.

Oh shit. Was the only thing Echo could think of. His brothers? Staying here?

"Oh we have our own place." Tech responded, "We live in a building complex called the Marauder."

Well that was a lie.

"Wait. Isn't that the name-" Y/n was cut off when Hunter kicked him.

"Ow.."

"Sorry. Foot must've slipped." Hunter responded his head slightly jolting towards the side, Echo was lost in his food, eating small spoon fulls, he was listening inteny even though he tried to cover his easedropping up.

"Oh! Yeah!" Y/n chuckled, Echo's frame slightly picking up.

"Oh. Nice place then?" Margie spoke.

"Oh..uh yeah. Decent..just a bit cramped but we don't mine." Hunter told, "we do alot of delivering off world too, so we work a decent amount...Echo! Echo here works the hardest. He may not be the strongest but he sure knows how to uh-"

"Pack a crate! And log the ports data. He's also a skilled mechanic!" Wrecker joined in.

What were they doing? Fake Prasing him? Why?

She smiled, "You boys seem like you like your jobs."

The boy's nodded, Y/n watched as Tech, Hunter and Wrecker hyped up Echo. The boy's trying to support Echo, "and you? Crosshair was it?"

Crosshair stopped from putting a spoonful in his mouth, "Oh. I.-" he looked at Echo infront of him, "I have a long way to go, a lot to learn."

"The youngest then?" She questioned.

"Yeah..." Crosshair responded bringing the food to his mouth.

"That's a sweet little bussniess you all have then," she congratulated, "We'd have to work with you one day, we have a business of our own."

"What's the bussniess if I may ask?" Tech questioned.

"Well our main bussniess is a food bussniess, you know selling buying, producing, but recently we've started a non-profit organization for battle droids."

"For battle droids? Clankers?" Wrecker asked.

"Thats what them clone boys call them," She smiled, "we basically rehab them, and send them back into the world, most as servants, translators. Small things."

"That's uh well..."

"I know I know. But here we believe that everything stands a chance." She contuined, "Echo has helped us alot on efficent repairs."

Echo nodded as he put a spoonful in his mouth.

"We have one that takes care of the animals in the small barn." Margie told, "Y/n! Have you showed them the animals dear?"

"No ma. This is only the second room they been in." Y/n informed.

"How dare you not give them a tour!" His mother spoke fake harshly, Y/n chuckling his mom soon following after.

"Oh mommy dearest I ask your humble apologies even though I don't deserve it. I suppose I'll sleep outside in the barn."

The two laughed as they smiled at one another.

"I'll show them around afterwords. Prepaired for your world to be rocked." He told the boys infront of him.

"Well I welcome you to the family boys. Its always a pleasure to have another few join the bunch!" She cheered.

"Thank you." Hunter spoke.

She smiled for a final time return to her food as did the others, small talk. Kids started asking to be excused, when excused they took there dishes and walked into the kitchen to clean there dishes and put them on the drying racks.

Echo finished before Y/n asking to be excused he got up with his dishes and went to clean them. Wrecker asked next, he being excused as he grabbed his own things and left.

Echo was along cleaning his dishes, his plate flat in the sink as he scrubbed the plate with one hand.

"Wanna hand?"

Echo turned his head, "oh. No. Im good."

Echo turned back towards his plates.

"Echo. Im. Im sorry." Wrecker apologized, "he's better than any lady you could date."

"Oh. Uh." Echo spoke, "thanks..."

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." Wrecker told him.

Echo frowned, "I. I know Wrecker. I shouldn't of yelled at you."

"We've should of waited for you to explain."

Putting his dishes on the drying rack he turned to Wrecker who stood next to him, Wrecker's dishes sat on the counter patiently waiting for his turn.

"It's. Okay." Echo responded, "I, I forgive you, at the end of the day. I'm the only one dating him. Right?"

Wrecker smiled, "So. We're okay?"

Echo nodded, quickly being picked up in a hug as he chuckled, patting Wrecker's shoulder.

"Now do your dishes before Y/n's mom cuts your head off." Echo joked waving smally to him.

Echo walked back out, going down the hall and too the living room, the room filled with silence as he collected the cups from eariler.

Bent over setting all the cups down accordingly there was a whistle, a soft one, not loud enough for anyone to hear if they weren't in the room.

"Would you look at that ass." Y/n spoke, Echo standing straight as he turned around, "aren't you a gifted fellow?"

Echo chuckled, "You should be careful what you say in here."

It was Y/n's turn to chuckle.

"Why's that?"

"Why do you think?" Echo questioned as he watched Y/n walk forward, grabbing his hips and pulling Echo closer.

"All I do is tell the truth," Y/n smiled.

Echo's arms drapped on Y/n's shoulder's, Y/n holding his hips.

"Now this is something we shouldn't be doing in here." Y/n teased.

Echo smiled, "One kiss never hurt anyone?"

"Oh?"

Y/n smiled, leaning down kissing Echo. His hand running through Y/n's hair, Y/n pulled away from Echo, foreheads resting on one another.

"I love you." Y/n told him.

"I love you too." Echo smiled.

Y/n pulled him into a short kiss, "You wanna sit on my lap again baby?"

"Gladly-" Echo was cut off again with a kiss, a chuckle filling his mouth from Y/n.

"Get a damn room!"

Y/n pulled away, glaring at the teen.

"Well Enzo. I am in a room! So get out of it!" Y/n argued, Echo's head in Y/n's shoulder.

"Well mom wants you to give those guys a tour." Enzo responded.

"Alright." Y/n spoke, turning back to Echo, "Later baby."

Echo was give a kiss on the lips, Y/n grabbed the tray.

"I can do that," Echo spoke stopping Y/n.

"How about you can do this one day, when we have our own home." Y/n spoke, "you know when we're married and have a little farm."

Echo flushed deeply, a farm? With him and Y/n all by themselves? Sounded...sounded. amazing.

Y/n pulled away from him tray in hand, "come on let's give that tour."

Echo followed Y/n dropping off the tray and then taking the boys around, introducing them to all the kids, big, medium small to twilek, zabrack, human to torguata. All of diffrent personalities. Some reading on there bed, some working out, some listening to music, others playing with dolls and action figures.

And then there was his room, nothing special, Echo and his favorite record in sitting still as the song had finished, a box of records tucked under the small table the record player sat on. The sheets a dark purple his pillow cases a matching dark blue a window at the far end.

"Please come in." Y/n responded offering them to come in and look around.

They filed in, the room fitting all them comfortably.

"It's quiet simple," Tech explained, "Your personality is a bit more bubbly so I was expecting something wild."

"Like that?" Crosshair questioned.

"Like what?" Tech responded turning around to face the wall behind them.

The wall was filled with photos, drawings and dried flowers, a vintage theme, branching off into its sub groups.

"There it is." Tech repsonded adjusting his glasses.

"Please feel free to look around." Y/n responded.

Crosshair stood next to Wrecker as they looked at the photos.

"Hey! It's Echo! Look!" Wrecker cheered as Crosshair peered over, the photo of Echo asleep on the couch, kids knocked out with him, "and Kamino!"

"How's you get a picture of Kamino?" Hunter questioned now also looking at the photos.

"Echo here got it for me." Y/n smiled as Echo rubbed the back of his head, "Its not just my memories up there- Hey! Lets get our own photo up there!"

Y/n got up going over to his desk as he lifted the top up pulling the old porloroid out.

"Echo." Crosshair spoke as the clone came over, "wanna explain this one?"

Echo looked at the photo, he clearly knocked out in Y/n's bed, his back bare hinting towards what had happened before hand, the blanket covering to his mid back and down, his arms tucked under a pillow permentatly fluffing it up as his cheek was baired into it.

"Not bad." Crosshair spoke nudging his brother, he was trying.

"Here is is new film and all." Y/n smiled going towards the group, "Come on! Gather around."

Y/n smiled as the group akwardly grouped together infront of the window. Looking at the group he rushed over, pushing them closer together.

"It'll be on a timer so I only have a few seconds." Y/n told them walking back over, "ready?"

"Uh sure?"

Y/n quickly pushed the button rushing over to the group, he quickly stood next to Echo. There was a click as Y/n rushed back over. The photo coming out the bottom as Tech rushed over intrested.

"Oh nice its comin through already." Y/n smiled, soon waving the square around as he walked over to his desk picking out a red and black thumb tack.

"Hmm..." y/n spoke rushing over to the wall looking around, "hah! Echo come here! Help me put this up."

Echo walked over as the boys watched him hand Echo the image and tack.

"See right there." Y/n pointed a spot above the door, dead center towards the ceiling.

"We'll move this one." Y/n said pulling up an old photo besides the light switch "up there."

Handing Echo the old photo they swapped Y/n pinning the new one with the group with a smile.

"Ready?"

"Yeah-"

Echo was grabbed by the legs, Y/n picking him up as Y/n grabbed the back off his thighs.

"A bit higher." Echo spoke as Y/n pulled his arms back, tight on Echo's thighs he pushed the clone upward, his thighs now trapping Y/n's face as Y/n's hands vanished behind Echo's kama skirt.

"Got it?" Y/n asked his chin resting at Echo's belt.

"Yeah." Echo spoke, his face red as he cleared his throat.

"Ready?'

"No- Y/n-" He spoke as Y/n laughed walking towards his bed, "Y/n! Y/n! I'll kill you don't- Ah!-"

Y/n tossed the trooper on the bed he bouncing as he let out a grunt, Y/n only chuckled turning back towards the boys, "come on i'll show you that barn they were talking about."

Y/n lead the boys along to the backyard, showing them the small barn his father worked on fixing a small animals leg, waving a B-1 droid showed up in a happy matter the others ready to fight.

"Master Y/n!"

"Please Y/n is fine B." Y/n smiled, "Boys this is B. He helps with the animals."

With an akward introduction the batchers kept there distance, but with the end of the small barn came the end of the tour. It now late in the hours of the day as the boys made there way our. Excusing themselves for the night.

"You'll have to come back." Y/n smiled.

"If its okay with Echo and your mother. " Hunter spoke, "and you of course."

"We'd be delighted to have you again." Y/n smiled, "Please. Come anytime with Echo. Or by yourselves. We're open doors."

Hunter nodded, the batch saying there goodbyes and thanks once more. They started there way away from the home, Tech staying back, "I suppose not all regs are regular after all. And that's good."

With his last comment Tech rushed to join the others.

Echo stayed behind with Y/n who smiled as the boys vanished.

"Now. That we're. Alone." Y/n teased.

"Alone? Really in this house?" Echo teased back.

Y/n chuckled, "as alone as we can be."

Echo smiled as Y/n closed the door.

"I'll go make some more milk and honey, you. Go get ready to cuddle." Y/n ordered playfully.

"Thats something I can do."

Him and Y/n unfortunately went separate ways, Y/n cleaning the cups and pot setting them to dry as one of the old B-1 droids would put the mass of dishes away during the night.

He pulled out another pot, putting it on the stove filled with the sweet liquid he wipped the tray clean, putting a fresh set of cookies on a small plate and two cups. Just in time as the pot started to whistle, pulling it off the stove he turned the gas off and went to his room.

Holding the tray in one hand he opened his door, "hey hope you didn't miss me too..."

Y/n's frame filling the door way, but froze seeing Echo's bare back facing him, a blanket sat high waisted on him as Y/n quickly stepped in, quiet with his steps he locked the door behind him, Echo now standing up and facing Y/n the blanket still around his waist.

"I uh..." Echo responded with a flush, "thought...you might like this first..."

Y/n flushed as Echo dropped the blanket, setting the tray on the nearest surface big enough, the floor flush against the wall besides the door, he walked over, kicking his shoes off in the process.

"Baby you have no idea how much I like this." Y/n told him, Echo's gaze away.

Maker. Y/n took his thumb to Echo's chin, Y/n's soft skin lightly tapping up Echo's chin to look up at him. Holding Echo's chin in place with his thumb and index finger Y/n smiled smally, his eyes filled with love for the pale male infront of him.

"Y/n. I..." Echo trailed off.

"Shh..." Y/n hushed softly, his thumb running down Echo's lip and back to his chin, "You don't have to say anything..."

Echo raised on his toes, leaning up to kiss Y/n, Y/n leaned down, the first kiss was almost shy, there lips only pressing together in sweet presence of one another. The small kiss leaving Echo breathless. They pulled away shortly. Another one soon be initiated, Y/n nudging Echo to sit down softly, he following Echo's movements, Y/n sitting besides him, the kissing barely any more intense, Echo swinging a leg over Y/n's straddling the taller male.

Y/n held the small of Echo's back, the two's makeout session growing in heat as Y/n's hands running down Echo's back and to his ass, where he gladly let his hands rest of Echo's warm skin while they kissed.

It was soon for breathe they pulled away, Y/n attaching himself to Echo's neck. Echo's hand through Y/n's hair as he hummed against Echo's pale skin, earing a soft mewel.

"Y/n...take me...take me away..." Echo whispered, Y/n laying Echo down on his back, his lips never movinv from Echo's shoulder.

"Take me away...Y/n..." Echo meweled softly, the words spilling from Echo's vocal cords once again.

Y/n stopped momentarily to lean up into Echo's ear, "only if I can come along baby..."

The night was filled with passion, hair being pulled in pleasure, moans dripping off each others lips, ripped from there vocal cords in call for the other one. Pleads drawn from the bottom as Echo left a few new scratch marks on Y/n's back, along with a line of hickeys following Y/n's collar blade to sholder. Y/n did the same, leaving hickies along Echo's body, where skin met metal.

Echo laid flat on his stomach now, his head turned towards Y/n. Y/n held a stupid large smile on his face, his finger's interlaced with Echo's.

"That was somethin else babe." Y/n told him softly, "Parched after the time of your life?"

Echo chuckled as Y/n pulled himself up, and out of bed. Echo receiving a pleasent veiw of Y/n's behind with one side having present marks, they currently defined and fresh, marks both darker and lighter spotted Y/n's back, mostly towards his shoulder and nape of his neck.

Echo watched Y/n pick up the tray and make his way back to the bed setting it on the nightstand, climbing back in the covers as Echo nuzzle up to Y/n.

"Clingy now are we? Let me pour you a cup atleast." Y/n chuckled.

Pouring them both cups Echo was handed one cold cup, "Thanks."

"Mhmm," Y/n acknowledged the two cuddled up, "shame its cold. Must sat for too long, needy thing arent you?"

Echo flustered, but took a risk himself, "Could still be longer."

"Oh? And what are you gonna do that I haven't done to you?" Y/n teased, Echo took a heavy drink, hoping it would bring him energy later taking Y/n's he sat it on the nightstand next to his own side of the bed.

Echo pushed Y/n onto the bed flat, the covers still hiding Y/n's lower half.

"I haven't rode you." Echo told boldly.

Y/n smirked up at him, "You're right you haven't,"

Echo's leg's swinging over Y/n, "Think you can handle me?" Echo questioned.

Y/n chuckled, "Baby you have no idea what I'd endure for you." Y/n sat up, holding Echo's face with a hand.

"Lets see then." Echo responded Y/n biting his lip as he pushed the covers down with a foot.

Y/n was pulled into a kiss, his hands running up and down Echo's back as Echo pushed him to the bed, the kiss never breaking.

Read the Next Part here if you like smut or stay generally sfw here

[nerdypanda3126]

Paper Anniversary

Happy anniversary to the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge!

The rules are three 15-minute sprints with 24 hours for light editing, including adding more writing to smooth transitions. On this one I took 4 sprints and kinda freehanded from there to get to the ending.

And the prompt I used was: Anniversary

Read on Ao3

Marinette woke up only slightly disappointed that Luka wasn’t there next to her. 

Well, maybe more than slightly. It was their first anniversary, after all, and part of her had hoped he’d pull some crazy stunt to get home in time but—

It was fine. Really. There’d be plenty of other anniversaries when he wasn’t out there making a name for himself. 

She sighed as she rolled over to grab his pillow, intending to snuggle it and hoping that his scent was still lingering on it, but something crinkled under her hand and she was instantly more awake. When she sat up and looked she was holding a slightly crumpled paper crane with what looked like Luka’s handwriting on the wings. But how…?

 Her head snapped up to swivel around the room. It was definitely still empty, and when she wandered through the apartment it was still empty, too. A smile started to creep across her face as she gently pried the crane open to reveal his note. 

Good morning, gorgeous. Happy anniversary. Did you know the first wedding anniversary is traditionally the paper anniversary? There’s plenty more surprises in store today, so get up and get ready and you’ll find the next one waiting for you in the closet. All my love, Luka

The closet? But there wasn’t anything there last night… 

In a daze, she walked back to their closet and opened it to find a delicately folded flower on top of a neatly folded pink dress. Scarcely believing it, she picked up the lotus flower and admired the skill it was made with before she unfolded it. 

Couldn’t wait, huh? The note read. She could almost hear his self-satisfied smirk within the words. I’m glad you’re excited but I know you’ll want to look your best today. Get ready and get dressed, love, your next clue is on the way. Love, Luka

Next clue? 

How on earth had he managed to set this up? He was halfway across the world by now touring with Jagged and he’d apologized to her—repeatedly—that he couldn’t make it back. She’d assured him it was fine and she understood, which she did. She really did. But then how were these notes appearing like this? Maybe—

Maybe she shouldn’t think about how a Couffaine was accomplishing something like this and do as his note read. 

So she did. And she had just slipped on the dress he’d apparently picked out for her and hadn’t even had time to admire the black flowers embroidered around the waist of the gauzy pink fabric before her doorbell rang.

When she opened the door she found a delivery person from her favorite café holding a to-go cup of coffee and a bag. Breakfast. Luka had gotten her breakfast. She could only gape at the poor man trying to transfer everything into her hands. 

“Oh, and this,” he said then, drawing an origami box out of his apron pocket that was unmistakably another of Luka’s notes. He smiled and waved before he turned and left her alone to open it. 

Somehow she managed to sit at their table before opening the paper box. Inside was a plastic-wrapped chocolate truffle, but no note. At least there wasn’t until she checked the inside of the lid she was still holding. 

I have to admit I cheated on this one a bit. But I wanted to make sure you had your favorite breakfast today, plus a little something sweet. When you’ve finished eating (and please eat, my beautiful melody) go to your parents’ house and tell them ‘hi’ from me. Love, Luka 

Her smile was going to be permanently stuck on her face after this, she could feel it. As she ate and sipped her coffee, barely registering what it tasted like although it was definitely all of her favorites, she felt almost like he was sitting across from her. He’d be sipping his own coffee and glancing up at her now and then, smiling like he always did when she was eating something she enjoyed. Apparently she had a happy dance, although she’d never noticed doing it. He always did, though. 

That was probably the point of this, she realized as she reached across to touch his empty spot. He couldn’t be here, but he wanted to make sure she knew he was thinking of her, wherever he was. 

When she’d finished and made her way to the bakery, her dad nearly broke the door bursting through it to greet her with a bear hug. Her mom came out a moment later smiling and holding a bouquet and a note folded into a heart. Marinette barely registered the sweet smelling flowers before she was tearing into the note. 

Remember our wedding day? You had plum blossoms in your bouquet for your mom and roses for your dad. And baby’s breath for the future, but we’ll get there eventually, love. There’s one more stop today and then I want you to enjoy the day however makes you happiest. You remember where I proposed? All my love, Luka

She looked up at her parents and they were both grinning. Although her dad was barely holding back happy tears. It reminded her so strongly of the day he walked her down the aisle that she stretched up to press a quick kiss to his cheek before she hugged them both and turned to run for the bridge, her heart pounding, scarcely daring to hope that maybe the last stop, the last surprise, would be her husband waiting for her to wrap her arms around him. 

But when she got there, out of breath from the run, the flowers on her arm shaken within an inch of their life, no one was there. The water lapped gently against the embankments and reflected off the underside of the bridge. It was so quiet, and that’s why Luka liked it there. It was his favorite place and when he’d proposed, he’d told her that he’d found a new favorite place by her side. That he wanted to be next to her for the rest of his life if she’d let him. 

He said where he’d proposed. There couldn’t possibly be anywhere else—

She gasped when she realized what he meant. Not his official proposal, but the first time he’d told her he’d be happy spending his life with her. A grin stretched across her face before she could stop it. With everything but a ring he’d offered everything he had and she’d kissed him until she couldn’t breathe anymore. 

She made her way—slower this time—towards the tree they’d sat under that day. As she did, it all came back to her. How calm and beautiful it had been that day, with a bright blue sky and big fluffy clouds floating by on the breeze. How they’d been lying side by side on their blanket with her head on his shoulder as they pointed out shapes to each other. And how, out of nowhere, he’d turned those eyes on her, as blue as the sky above, so serious, so soft, and told her he wanted this. Just this. With her. For the rest of his life. 

As she neared the tree, she didn’t know what to expect and she didn’t want to get her hopes up. But there was a blanket laid out under the tree and a picnic basket. And leaning against the tree was a familiar tall figure. A figure that shrugged off the tree and stood at attention as soon as she came into view. An unmistakable figure with a shock of blue hair stuck up in all the familiar ways. 

She was running again before she knew it. The flowers were dropped on the blanket as she flew into Luka’s waiting arms. He was laughing as he hugged her back just as tightly and pressed a kiss to her hair. 

“Surprise,” he said quietly, although his voice still rumbled through his chest. She pulled away to look at him, only to bury her face in his shoulder again. He smelled like the stale air of an airplane and hotel soap. But underneath that was his smell. Something she would never be able to describe but would be able to identify in a heartbeat. 

When she had finally convinced herself he was real, she pulled away again and swatted his shoulder. “You jerk! I thought you weren’t coming!” 

“I wasn’t,” he admitted, still laughing as he pretended to cringe away from her hands. “I had it all set up to take care of you while I was gone, and then Penny pulled some strings and, well, long story short, we have a few hours to kill before I have to get back on another plane.” 

He gestured to his set up, and for the first time she noticed a branch of plum blossoms laid on top of the picnic basket. Out of all his origami designs she’d seen that day, this was by far the most elaborate. She bent down to pick it up and examine it more closely, taking his hand as she did and imagining his long fingers making the delicate folds. 

"Show me," she said, pushing it into his hands. He seemed stunned for a moment and let out a disbelieving laugh. 

"We only have a few hours together on our anniversary and you want me to teach you origami?" 

"You're the one who got me all dressed up and brought me somewhere public," she teased him back, stretching to press a kiss to his cheek. She stayed there and tugged him down to whisper in his ear. "And I've been thinking about your hands all day." As she pulled away, she raised her eyebrows suggestively and took an expectant seat next to the picnic basket. 

"Please show me?" 

He relaxed as understanding dawned on him and he smiled as he took a seat close to her, already unfolding the paper so he could show her how it worked. And as she curled her hand around his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder, listening to his voice and watching his movements, she couldn't help but sigh in absolute contentment.

Just like he’d said that day. All she wanted was this, with him, for the rest of her life, too. And as she looked down at the rings glinting on both of their hands, she couldn’t be happier that this was the first of what she hoped were many anniversaries to come.

[hb-writes]

For Old and Young Alike - Pt. 2

{Part 1}

Summary: 1913 in the Little Lady Blinder universe. Clara has saved up for the perfect Christmas gift for her family and it’s almost time to show it to them. She’s just got to fetch the gift and wake everyone for the Shelby family Christmas breakfast first. 

Inspired by this anon request: What about a little blurb set around Christmas time when Clara is younger maybe just before the boys go off to war, she has been saving her pocket money for ages to buy all her siblings and polly a little gift and she’s so excited to give them to her family x

Featuring: Tommy Shelby, Ada Shelby, Finn Shelby, Polly Gray, John Shelby, Martha Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Charlie Strong, Clara Shelby

-----

When Clara rose from the bed she shared with Finn, it was still much too early, the sun not yet up and the house very much silent. She checked on her siblings and aunt, listening outside of Ada's and Tommy's and Polly's rooms for telltale signs of their slumber, deep even breaths heard through each of the closed doors.

She couldn't stop herself from admiring the tree as she came down the steps, the few gifts there under the lowest branches visible even in the rather dim light meaning Father Christmas had already been to number six. Clara didn't linger there on the steps long, far more focused on the gift she'd purchased for the others than any of the boxes sitting beneath the tree.

The gift had been wrapped and labeled and hidden with Freddie's help, stowed high and away from prying curious eyes. It hadn't crossed Clara or Freddie's minds that she'd need someone similarly tall in order to get the package down when the time came.

Clara was smart enough to know she'd not be able to get it on her own, not with the help of a stool and not by standing on the tips of her toes. She'd need the tallest person available and that person, her older brother Thomas, was peacefully asleep in his bed.

Tommy usually woke early on Christmas mornings. At one time it was him and Arthur doing the early rousing, then John and Ada when he'd become too old to show excitement over such things, and for the last few years, it had been the twins waking him, the babies synchronizing their pounces to cause the most surprise, taking precious care to knock the most wind out from their unsuspecting older siblings' chests.

He wasn't used to hushed whispers stirring him, warm breath surrounding his ear as a light pressure weighed on his right shoulder, and it confused him in his half-asleep state. Tommy snaked his arm around his sister, recognizing the presence of Clara even if he hadn't heard her little voice coaxing him along. Tommy shifted closer to the wall, pulling her under the covers, eyes still closed.

"It's alright, my girl," he said, vaguely stroking his hand through her hair. "Just a dream. Go back to sleep."

Clara didn't correct him settling under the warmth of the blanket for a cuddle even though she had her own agenda, waiting there long enough for Tommy's breath to even out, his chest heaving in a steady rhythm beneath her.

"Tommy?" she whispered once he'd begun to snore a bit.

Met with silence, Clara pushed his eyelid up with a single finger, the gesture gentle but intrusive all the same. "Wake up, Tommy."

"Clara," Tommy groaned, swatting her finger away and using the arm wrapped around her to hold Clara and her wandering arms against him. "It's not time," he mumbled. "Father Christmas hasn't—"

"But he already came, Tommy," Clara said, struggling against him. "And I—"

Tommy inhaled deeply, trying his best to hold his sister's belligerent little body still. Tommy knew Father Christmas had already come to the Shelby home. He'd come no more than a few hours earlier, just at the moment when Tommy had gotten home from the Christmas Eve dinner at Greta's, dropping the gifts under the tree after checking that the twins and Ada were asleep, or at least pretending to be asleep, in their beds. He was grateful that Polly had done the wrapping, stowing the handful of packages in the shop after they'd put the twins to sleep.

Really, Tommy shouldn't have been surprised his sister was awake this early being as they'd finished reading the final chapter of A Christmas Carol around seven, just before he'd been due to Greta's. He couldn't imagine Polly had let them stay up much beyond that.

"And if you don't go back to sleep, he'll come back and gather up anything he's left."

"No, he won't," Clara answered, "and he can't come back as I haven't been naughty."

"You're being naughty waking me up so early," Tommy mumbled, "and naughty little kids get coal for Christmas."

"I'm not naughty. I just need your help."

Tommy shushed her again, repositioning them both and pulling the blankets up as he held her to his chest. "Go back to sleep."

She ignored his words, pushing her arms up against his chest, trying to get out of his hold. "And not helping those in need is very naughty, Tommy, maybe even a sin."

Tommy snorted now, almost properly awake at his sister's words, a phrase he suspected to be transplanted from their aunt's mouth straight into Clara's. "I wouldn't want to be a sinner on Christmas, now would I?"

"I would expect not, Thomas. You'll get coal."

Tommy released Clara's arms, reaching for the pocket watch discarded on the nightstand. "And you need this help from me… right now?"

It was about half-past four in the morning and Tommy dropped the piece of metal to the bedside table as he wrapped his arm around her once again. If Tommy had his way, they'd both rest a bit longer and he'd help her with whatever it was she needed closer to six, or even better, at seven. He'd not sleep any later than that, even without the twins' traditional Christmas morning wake up call.

"Please, Tommy?"

Tommy shushed her again, wrapping the arm around her once more. "How about we get a bit more sleep and I—"

"But, it's Christmas. Please, Taaaa…mmy?" she said, drawing out the first syllable, pouting and wide-eyed though Tommy's head still tilted back against the pillow and he saw nothing but the inside of his eyelids.

That long opening syllable, the Taaaa he'd not heard with any regularity for a few years, his name usually so rushed as it came from her lips, the pieces of it mushed together as she uttered it only as a hasty introduction or conclusion to whatever she wished to tell him, the other content more significant than whatever sound she whirled at him to gain his attention.

The reappearance, whether she'd done it purposefully or not, pulled at something in him and Tommy released his sister, opening his eyes as he looked to her.

"You're a little devil, Clara Shelby."

"I am not!"

"You are and you don't even know it, which makes it all the worse."

-----

Tommy looked up to where Clara pointed, to the brown paper package on the very top of the cabinet, hidden just behind the decorative edge. It'd been there for weeks now but he hadn't noticed it.

"You pulled me out of bed for this?" he asked as he pulled it down. "What is it?"

"A surprise," Clara answered, pulling the box from his hands as it came within her reach and holding it to her chest.

"Alright," Tommy answered, rubbing his eyes. "We'll put it under the tree then, eh? Open it in a few hours? Give us all the gift of a bit more rest?"

Clara nodded as she took a step away from him, stopping suddenly at a lone creak on the stairs.

"Father Christmas come yet?"

Ada yawned, wrapped up in a robe, her hand clasped around Finn's as the pair tentatively traversed the stairs.

"Finn wants to know," Ada offered to Tommy's raised eyebrow. "I'd have liked that gift of a few more hours you've just mentioned."

"I imagine you would," Tommy said. "What time did you get in last night, Ada?"

"Not very late," she answered. She'd been back before Tommy, just barely, though. He'd seen light in her bedroom window from out on the lane. "Not that it's your business what time I get in."

"And where were you 'not very late' last night?"

"Molly's," Ada answered. "Though, again, not really your business."

Tommy sighed. He'd hoped to simply get his sister back to bed for a few more hours, or at the very least, he hoped she'd allow him a bit of rest on the couch. He'd planned to ask after Ada's whereabouts later, without quite so big and impressionable of an audience. He knew she hadn't spent the whole night with Molly Evans.

"So did he come, then, Tommy?" Finn asked.

"He did," Clara said to Finn, "and he left us presents and drank all the whiskey."

"Big surprise there," Ada said.

Tommy rubbed his face once again, willing his body to accept that sleep was something long behind him, willing his body to not punish him too much for drinking Father Christmas's glass of whiskey and then some.

"We best wake John and Arthur if we're doing this now."

"And Aunt Polly?" Clara asked, already on the second step.

Tommy lifted her into his arms. "Let Finn go wake Aunt Polly. You help me with our brothers. Ada can put the kettle on," Tommy said. "I'd tell you to start with breakfast, but we don't want to burn the place down, eh?"

Ada scoffed. "It was one bloody time, Tommy. It was just a bit of smoke."

He raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the twins, both of them starting to giggle.

"Well, go on, then. I don't need an audience to make tea, especially not if it's the three of you."

"Why's she so cross on Christmas morning?" Finn asked.

"Perhaps because someone woke her up before five."

"But you're not cross and I woke you up," Clara answered.

"Yeah, well, I imagine you were a bit gentler than Finn," Tommy said. "And we know how our Ada needs her beauty rest, makes her lovely inside and out."

"Shut it, Thomas," Ada answered. "And make sure to wrap yourselves up in something. It's chilly out."

Tommy pulled a blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping them both. "Good enough for your standards, Mother Ada?"

She stepped forward, wrapping the blanket a bit tighter around her sister, tucking the fabric under her chin. "If either of you catches your death of cold out there—"

"We won't, Mother Ada," Clara said, mimicking Tommy's overdone inflection as she spoke her sister's name. "We're just going down the lane."

Ada rolled her eyes, shouting at them. "Fine! Go off and catch your colds, then!"

"See, my girl, that's why you're coming with me. You won't wake up half the lane shouting like our sister."

"Shut up, Thomas!" Ada said as she stepped through to the kitchen.

"Ada, you're not supposed—"

"Oh, come off it, Clara. Our brother deserves to be told to shut his mouth every now and then. Maybe if you said it, he'd listen."

"Now, Ada, don't go poisoning my Clara against—"

"Me? Me? You think I'm poisoning your Clara against you?"

"I won't give a second thought to poisoning the lot of you if you don't stop with all your shouting," Polly said as she came down the stairs, guiding Finn in front of her.

"I wasn't shouting," Finn said.

"I wasn't shouting either," Clara echoed.

"Yes, I know, my loves," Polly said, shifting her eyes from the twins to her other niece and nephew as she sharpened her tone. "You would never cause such trouble on Christmas morning."

Polly gave each of the twins a kiss on the cheek, offering them both a "Merry Christmas" and a smile before giving Tommy a peck on the cheek as well.

"Merry Christmas, Polly," Tommy said, beating her to the sentiment.

"Keep your sister under that blanket. Wouldn't want her to catch her death of—"

Clara and Finn both started giggling once again at Tommy's raised eyebrow, the three of them stopping suddenly as Polly cleared her throat.

"See." Ada threw her hands in the air. "Just as I've said. Tommy's always poisoning the twins against—"

"Calm down, Ada. Your brother's only doing it to rile you up. And you're only making it worse for yourself by letting him."

Ada huffed. "Unbelievable, the lot of you," she said, storming out of the room.

"Can we do breakfast first?" Finn asked, tugging on Polly's robe. "Then the presents?"

Polly opened her mouth to answer, cut off by the cursing and sound of crashing pots and pans one room over. This time Polly raised an eyebrow, smirking as the kids and Tommy chuckled.

"You alright in there, love?" Polly asked

"Fine, Polly," Ada answered. "And shut up, Tommy!"

"I didn't say anything, Ada."

"But you were thinking something or making a face or…just shut up and go get the boys."

-----

Clara snuggled against Tommy's chest, the two of them working together to hold the blanket up against the chilly air out on the lane.

Tommy directed them to John's house first, unsurprised when the door fell open with just a gentle push. They never locked up, Martha and John possessing something, perhaps an ill-placed bit of courage or comfort or stupidity that allowed them to feel protected within their four thin walls, only a barely competent door latch between them and the rest of Small Heath.

Clara released a small squeak as Tommy turned around to shut the door behind them, struggling to get out of his arms when she spotted Martha and the baby in a chair by the fire.

"Oh," Tommy said as he turned to them, allowing Clara out of his arms, her socked feet closing the distance to Martha and the baby in a few seconds. "Morning, Martha."

"I'd ask if you want to come in, but as you already have, maybe you'd still allow me to offer you a seat before you sit?"

Martha eyed Tommy for a moment before looking down at Clara, her little finger already clasped by the cooing baby.

"We didn't want to wake you," Tommy said. "Was planning to have Clara tiptoe in to steal John and the kids and let you sleep."

As little sleep as John got, they all knew Martha got even less, responding to most of the late-night and early morning calls of their babies before John even stirred.

"So you two decided to break in quietly, then?" Martha asked. "Sounds like a good way to get yourselves shot. You know he keeps a gun under his pillow."

"Where's Sarah?" Clara asked.

"Asleep with your brother. We can go wake the lazy lump if Uncle Tommy will take Joseph for a moment."

Tommy accepted the bundle of blankets into his arms, more adept and comfortable with an infant than most people would expect. He settled into the vacated chair as Martha took Clara's hand and led her up the stairs.

Martha stepped into the room first and pulled two things from the bed, the gun beneath John's pillow, which she stowed in the drawer of the nightstand, and then the sleeping toddler pulled from the spot between John and the wall. John stretched out the moment Sarah was pulled from the bed, subconsciously unraveling to occupy the space now vacated.

Martha gestured for Clara to have at it, the woman's smile further encouraging the excitement that had already budded in Clara on the way up the stairs.

Clara's words, her alarm bell greeting, shocked John's system, his hand going under the pillow in search of the missing gun before she'd even properly gotten the second syllable of 'merry' out from between her lips. Clara ran from across the room and landed with a grunt followed by bright giggles as she collided with his chest.

"Wake up, John. It's Christmas," she said between laughs.

John's heart was beating so fast and hard it took him a moment to recuperate, just lying there with his wife and sister giggling, his daughter waking to the noise, her laughter joining the chorus.

"Christmas, is it?" he said, glancing through the window to the dark street. "It's still Christmas Eve, I think."

"No, John, it's Christmas," Clara answered.

"Must be pretty fucking early, then."

Martha scolded him and John sat up, Clara sliding off his chest to sit in his lap.

"Tommy and I broke in to wake you up."

"Broke in?" John asked, glancing up to his wife for confirmation.

"Your brother," Martha said. "He never fucking knocks. Just lets himself in like he owns the place."

John raised an eyebrow at the language he'd just been corrected for and Martha rolled her eyes. "I suppose your sister has already learned it. Sarah, too. We'll try better with Joseph."

John smirked. "Clara learned it around Sarah's age. Imagine this sweet little thing sat right there at the breakfast table demanding more fucking eggs. Gave Aunt Pol quite a shock to the heart the first time she heard her say it, eh Clara?"

"I don't remember," Clara answered.

"I suppose you wouldn't," John said, depositing his sister on the covers as he pushed himself out of bed and began pulling on the rest of his clothes. "Has Pol started breakfast yet?"

-----

When their fourth set of knocks went unanswered, Tommy shifted Clara to his opposite hip and fished the key to number 57 Watery Lane out of his pocket.

The first floor was dark and silent, and Tommy kicked an empty whiskey bottle out of the way as he carried Clara towards the stairs. Clara wiggled out of the blanket and Tommy's arms and he set her down on the top step, Arthur's bedroom door angled open to reveal a heap of blankets on top of the bed.

Clara intended the same wake-up for Arthur as she'd given to John and prepared to launch herself on top of him, but Tommy caught her under the arms, pulling her back up to his hip as he spotted a delicately arched foot slip from under the mound of covers.

"Hey!" Clara attempted a whisper, but it still came out as a shout. "Put me—"

"Shush, love. It's still early," Arthur mumbled, assuming the noise came from the bed beside him. "Give me another hour of sleep and I'll give you—"

Tommy cleared his throat. "Merry Christmas, Arthur."

It startled him and the bed quickly became a mess of limbs and blankets as Arthur and the woman he'd brought home began to thrash about.

"Who's your friend, Arthur?" Tommy asked, nodding towards the woman hiding behind his shoulder.

Arthur stammered, reaching down to grab his shirt and pants off the floor and pulling them on beneath the covers.

"Ah, is that Eva?" Tommy asked. "Merry Christmas, Eva."

"Merry Christmas, Tommy," the young woman answered tentatively, pulling the covers closer around her as Arthur got off the bed.

Clara leaned forward in Tommy's arms, extending her hand. "Merry Christmas. I'm Clara Shelby."

Eva bit back a giggle, the embarrassment of the moment slipping away as the little girl looked at her expectantly, not a bit phased by finding a girl in her brother's bed. Eva pulled a hand out from beneath the covers and shook Clara's hand. "Merry Christmas, Clara."

"Are you coming to Christmas?" Clara asked, settling back against Tommy's chest.

"Oh, um…"

"Go on. Get yourself dressed," Arthur said, gathering up her things and tossing them onto the bed. "You're welcome at breakfast. The baby has spoken."

"No, no, that's alright. I've got my own family to get home to."

Arthur turned to his siblings. "Has Aunt Pol started breakfast yet?"

Tommy nodded. "C'mon, Eva. You haven't lived 'til you've had a Shelby family Christmas breakfast. If you thought Arthur could drink, you should see him eat."

"There's biscuits," Clara added. "Biscuits and candies for breakfast!"

"And everything else you could imagine," Arthur added.

"No, it's really alright. My sister's expecting me," Eva said.

"Tillie's expecting you at five in the morning?" Tommy asked.

Tommy knew the sisters. He couldn't imagine Tillie was home yet either.

"Well, I might sleep a bit more and then go over," she answered.

"Suit yourself," Arthur answered, kissing the girl before turning. "Lock up for me when you leave, alright, sweetheart?"

"Sure, Arthur."

Arthur pulled Clara from Tommy's arms, kissing her cheek as they stepped out of his room. "Merry Christmas, love. A bit early this year, eh?"

"It's Finn's fault," Clara said. "He woke Ada."

"Yeah, and you woke me thirty minutes before that," Tommy added, the three of them making their way out onto the lane.

"But we were gonna wait."

Tommy nodded. "I suppose you and Finn'll be taking naps this afternoon, being up so early."

"No naps, Tommy! It's Christmas." Clara turned in Arthur's arms twisting both ways to meet each of the boys' eyes. "Tell him, Arthur!"

Arthur laughed. "I may be taking a nap, myself, love. You two wake John yet?"

Tommy gestured ahead of them to where Martha, John, and the babies were making their way down the street towards number six.

"Let's wake Charlie, too, eh?" Arthur asked, stepping over and banging hard on Charlie's door until the upstairs window opened.

"Christ, Arthur. It's five in the fucking morning. People are sleeping."

"Merry Christmas, Charlie," Arthur said.

"It's time for Christmas, Uncle Charlie!" Clara said, smiling up at him.

Charlie sighed, rolling his eyes. "Did your aunt start breakfast, then?"

The boys and Clara nodded and Charlie shut the window without another word, appearing moments later beside them on the sidewalk. There was nothing quite like the Shelby family Christmas Breakfast.

-----

Read more Little Lady Blinder here.

{Part 3}

-----

🏷:

@beautycinders​ @buckybluebarnes @cecii22me​ @lovemissyhoneybee​ @marquelapage​ @midnight-dreams-23​ @mo-onstarrs​ @ohhersheybars​​ @pollyrepents @unicorndetective22

[yandere-sins]

“Just because I’m tiny doesn’t mean I lack the power.” For yandere fairy prince Deku? Maybe he used magic to shrink his darling for his size

Uhi, this one really kinda jumped at me for an idea! Thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoy it!

“Just because I’m tiny doesn’t mean I lack the power.”

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

“Hey! Here!” you heard, and you turned your exhausted body into the direction of the voice. It took you a few seconds before you noticed the quick waving motions coming from a tree trunk close to you, but only when you approached did you make out who was making those movements.

A part of your mind was aware. Aware of how totally wrong it was for you to lean down to the little being standing on the trunk and softly cooing, “Aww,” while your eyes admired it. Never before had you seen something so small, so adorable. Like a doll, but prettier, with wings shining in all the colors of the rainbow, and even a small crown on his head.

And yet, it was exactly what you did.

You were so, so tired after wandering all day. And even if his face was as big as your fingertip, you were just glad to see another person again. There was no use denying it, that you weren’t exactly familiar with these woods, and as time passed on, you began to fear you were lost. Despite the other part of your brain being rational, giving you a hint of hesitation, you took your chances, desperation having fogged your mind for a while already.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that you couldn’t find your way back to the camping spot you resided on for the weekend, you totally disrespected the creature before you, even holding out your hand for him to hop on. If there had been anything you knew about how to handle supernatural beings as he must have been - if he wasn’t just an illusion - you threw the knowledge out of the window in an instant. With him in your palm, you sat down on the tree trunk, ready to converse a bit.

He certainly was cuter than any baby you had seen before, scratching on your fondness of baby animals even. So before you had a grasp on the situation, he already had your fondness of him on his side, and really, how could something so small, so fragile possibly cause you harm? Before anything happened to you, you’d probably squeeze him to death, that thought made you feel safe.

“I am Midoriya Izuku, prince of this forest! What brings you here, little human?” His introduction showed no hesitation despite the differences you two had, he even bowed his head to you and brought a soft chuckle to your lips as he called you little. After all, it was him barely fitting into your hand. A prince, you thought. How cute!

“I’m [Name],” you replied, holding out a finger to him which he shook with both hands. The feeling of his tiny fingers made you almost ticklish, but despite the naive happiness you felt about meeting him, you got some sense back through his touch. “Ah, you see... I lost my path back to the camping grounds, and now I am lost.”

He seemed to be in thought for a moment, before he nodded in understanding, directing his next words at you again. “I regret that you lost your way, would you like me to show you back?”

“You can do that?” you chimed up, smiling from ear to ear at his offer. Your legs were hurting, but it must have been late afternoon already and you weren’t too hot on the thought of sleeping in the wilderness. Even if the offer came from a fairy, you were more than happy to accept it. After all, he was a prince, he surely had other interests than harming you.

The smirk on his lips was nothing that would have changed your opinion of him, as he agreed, and you offered to carry him around for his troubles in return. He sat down comfortably in your palm, legs dangling from the edge of your hand without much care in the world. Together, you set off, conversing merrily as he led you back into the thicket. “I am always glad to help! The forest can be a dangerous place, you know?”

“How come?” you asked, a sudden anxiety bubbling in your stomach. The last thing you wanted was to encounter anything potential dangerous while you were out in the forest alone. “Any dangerous creatures lurking around?”

Midoriya laughed softly as he shook his head, “Not when I am around. They wouldn’t harm me or those under my protection.” At that, he placed his tiny hand into your palm and you felt like a wave of comfort spread through you, knowing he was with you.

You two exchanged a row of polite talk, things like the forest, and your home. How your garden differed from what you could see around you, and how he preferred to sleep in moss-beds rather than flowers. The question burned on your tongue, but you held it back as long as you could until it simply burst out of you.

“You are... a fairy, right?”

Letting out a soft laugh, Midoriya flapped his wings, looking down at himself. “I think so? At least, that’s what humans would call me.”

You joined him with a chuckle, nodding. “That’s really amazing!” you admitted, and his eyes grew wide as you praised him. “Everyone always says you must be a myth because we never get to see any fairies, so for one to actually show up when I am in trouble, I must be so lucky! I always hoped to meet one someday!”

With your eyes on the path before you, you didn’t notice how his grew wistful as he nodded slowly in response. “Not many humans believe in us anymore, but we are always here, all around you.”

“That’s nice,” you sighed, really meaning it. Fairies were very nice, you had decided minutes ago. After all, he was helping you get back to your camp without any demands, and kept you a company. Without this fairy in particular you’d certainly be more lost and scared shitless by now.

Taking his time, he inspected you, the happy grin on your face, the joyful spark in your eyes. You were sincere, and Midoriya adored that about you. Many humans he had encountered were so different from you, and it made you even more special than anyone else.

“Hey...” he caught your attention, ever so softly. His fingers were drawing little circles in your palm while his legs swung back and forth. “Do you want to meet my people? Our kingdom lies on the way and I am sure they’d be so happy to meet you!”

Slowing down a bit, you thought about it. Aside from your gut feeling telling you to be wary, you didn’t have a reason to decline. Another few more minutes out in the forest wouldn’t hurt, and there was no reason to decline his invitation, so you gave him a firm nod, humming happily. His eyes began to shine at this as he directed you forward and towards his home.

The settlement was about what you expected it to be. Little houses, beautifully decorated with flowers and wood carvings, hanging from trees and sitting on branches. The moment you two stepped in, you were surrounded by hundreds of giggling fairies, one prettier than the other, asking you questions, braiding your hair. They took over your whole attention, you didn’t even notice the prince slip from your hand, taking a stand at what seemed to be a stone functioning as a plaza in the middle of the tree group that made up the colony.

Midoriya observed you carefully, your every move. How you interacted with his peers, you were tender and charming. They brought you honey and put flowers into your hair, all because they adored you. There hadn’t been a human for them to enjoy in so long, nowadays humans were always too self-centered to notice them. But not you.

He was smitten with you because you were different.

You liked fairies. You had fun with them, and you liked their company as much as they wanted yours. In your own words, you said it was ‘amazing’ and ‘nice’. How you were ‘lucky’ and you hoped you’d meet one someday. If this encounter wasn’t fate, then what else was there to believe in? How long had he searched for someone like you? Someone to rule his lands with and who’d be kind to his people? It could only be in your interest too, as you were so smitten with the fairies.

“[Name],” he called out, and the other fairies took a step back from you as their prince demanded your attention. You kneeled down in front of the stone, taking a bit more of his eye level, while everyone else took a seat somewhere they could stand back and watch. Holding out his hands, you were confused before you simply put your finger towards him again, allowing him to touch you gently.

“Wouldn’t you like to stay? Isn’t it fun here? You could be with us forever!”

“Huh?” you only brought forth, the surprise written in your face. “But... My Prince, I can’t! I have a life back in my own home! Despite...” you looked around uncomfortably, fearing your next words would upset the fairies around you, so you whispered them into his direction instead. “I mean, I am human... I can’t live like you do...”

His shoulders slumped as you thought he understood now, his eyes full of sadness. “If that’s the case...” Midoriya sighed, letting go of your hand. “This might sting a little.”

“What?” you asked when suddenly, the lights from the little lanterns all around you seemed to vanish, and you squeezed your eyelids together as you felt a sting of pain go through your head.

“Open up, [Name]~” you heard him coo not even seconds after the feeling hit you, and you slowly began to blink, the lights being back on again as you opened your eyes. “See, that’s no problem at all,” he chuckled as you looked him in his eyes, slowly taking in the tall surroundings around you. It wasn’t until another fairy flew down to the stone podium that you noticed the thing that confused you the most about what just happened.

She was a pretty fairy, smiling wildly as she handed you a red cloak, and suddenly, you realized that she wasn’t small anymore - neither of them. Embarrassed, you had to take note that you were not only their size now, no, you were also completely naked. A glance over your shoulder as you frantically put the cloak around your body revealed your original clothes, still in human size spread on the ground.

“W-What did you do?” you asked the prince, who’s hand you hesitantly took, letting him help you up. “You guys were so tiny and now... now I am tiny?!”

“Yes, I made you fit in. That’s what made you so hesitant right? Now you can live with us!” A row of cheers echoed all around you, scaring you as they were so much louder now than the noises the fairies had made at you before. “B-But how? How could I shrink so much, I am human!”

“Oh, [Name]...” he sighed, smiling belittling at you. “Just because I’m tiny doesn’t mean I lack the power.”

You grew more and more restless under Midoriya’s big eyes, the prince now almost a head taller than you. There were no wings on your back while his looked as tall as you were and even more mesmerizing up close. For a moment, you feared you could get lost in their shimmer, not yet aware that they were only a presentation of his power. Even in his size, there was still enough difference between you two to make out that you were not the same. Looking around, you tried to figure this situation out, but it made less and less sense to you the more you tried. “You promised to help me!”

It was absolutely delightful to see the colorful play of expression on your face. In contrary to fairies, humans were so much more expressive and supplied with a range of emotions, so full of themselves, he could only be impressed. You looked lovely in his cloak, just like he expected, and you were even sweeter to him, now that you fit into his embrace.

Under no circumstances would he have let anyone take this moment away from him, as he enveloped you in his arms, your struggles vanishing as you couldn’t even start to comprehend his thinking. But you didn’t need to as Midoriya had already done that for both of you. You two would live happily in the settlement, reign over the forest together, and you’d be the loved ruler of his people by his side. Only someone like you, with a heart for fairies, could have ever been qualified enough for this position, and he had waited centuries for you to come around.

You couldn’t just leave now.

“I don’t understand...”

It was the first time, he didn’t like what he heard from you, a sob falling off your lips as your confusion melted into the desperation of not understanding and unable to cope with what happened to you. “Well,” he huffed. One arm snaked lower, right under your butt, and with less strength than you thought he’d need, he lifted you up, finally able to see eye to eye with him. “You don’t need to understand,” he chuckled, and with your legs already dangling over the ground, your eyes widened as he flew up into the air, about the same height that you had when you were still a full-grown human. “I’ll take care of you from now on, you just need to be the [Name] I met today. We’ll be very happy, I promise.”

Your eyes fell to the ground, several feet away now, and as if stung by a bee, you clung to him as Midoriya gently stroked your hair in response. “How... How could this happen... I was so tall and you so tiny...” Shivering in his arms, you felt like fainting just imagine how a fall out of this height must feel. Midoriya just sighed, when his hand suddenly clawed into the back of your head, making you squeal in shock while he guided your eyes up at him.

“You are safe with me, don’t you remember?”

Nodding slowly, you remembered his words about the dangerous creatures in the forest. The conversation suddenly had a whole other meaning for you as your mind began to realize how much you had underestimated the creature right in front of you. It became painfully clear now, with his hand so forceful in your hair and his eyes so scolding. Even his next words sounded so cold, you could only shiver more in his arm, clutching his shirt tighter between your fingers.

“Just don’t forget who’s the tiny one now, okay?”

[digital-heart]

So before solmare can give any official archangel designs, I figure I'd finally show my archangel oc designs. Some I've had for months, others are newer.

Some of these might be more obscure archangels lmao, but I saw them on a list and got ideas

My council of archangels:

Michael

He is the golden boy, with a thousand watt smile to draw in people and put them at ease; he's charismatic with a loud presence. But, he's like a politician. He specifically keeps up this act to bring himself loyalty and support, to make people think he's got their back and is capable of no wrong. There's cruelty behind those eyes, masked by his brilliant radiance, he's selfish, truthfully. He wants people to follow him and listen to what he says; he'd say it's in father's name, but it's for himself. He can't stand disobedience, and likes his fellow archangels like they're collectable porcelain dolls he keeps.

The eye patch comes from the rebellion, in my own version of it where lucifer and Michael were fighting, lucifer's wings were torn off (I like to imagine sometimes Michael cutting or tearing then off lucifer's back for effect), and from behind Michael Satan emerged from the wing's pool of blood and jumped on his back full feral mode and clawed out his eye before being shaken off.

Raphael

The healer. He holds himself highly, in that smug way you can tell someone finds you less than their equal and more just amusing to watch. He does care, just more like someone cares for someone weaker than them. Like he'd see a person struggling with a thing and be like, awe, you poor fool, of course you can't do it right, here, let me guide you. Has an appreciation for music that seems intellectual, and he holds himself as such; in his own eyes, no other compares to him. He thinks nothing of letting others know this and what he perceives as what they get wrong and their flaws and points them out. Bitch.

Camael

The celestial judge. He is justice and righteousness in humanoid form, he's a good himbo who wants peace and to protect everybody. He decides the sentence of all crimes in the celestial realm, and that includes angels who are judged to deserve to fall or be executed. He values justice above all, but there are times where he can't help but feel for those he judges. He's too much of a good boy, too soft on the inside to be the calculating judge who only sees the facts like he presumably should be, and sometimes he thinks he's weaker and broken for it. He holds himself up as a warrior, but he can actually get startled easily; fire scares him most.

(His eyes are golden, not white; this picrew hadn't had yellow options lmao)

Ariel

The lioness. She is a lover of and protector of nature. Less in the tree hugger way, more the, if you step on that flower she is going to shoot you with her arrow. She's very rough along the edges and intimidating, preferring plants to people or angels or demons, but anyone who is nice to nature she likes. She is in charge of the celestial lions, a flock of golden, winged lions she rides in battle, and leads other angels who also ride them.

(The physical traits shared with cam started accidentally, but now I keep thinking of them as twins possibly)

Pravuil

The record keeper. Nearly always annoyed at something, he writes the records for important meetings and acts as the celestial librarian, managing every book and scroll and note in a grand library containing all the knowledge in the realm. His memory records everything, and he's the actual smartest of the archangels. He acts like he dislikes everybody, but he actually sincerely cares about and would protect his angelic family if it came to it, even putting them above his library he cares for. Secret softy under a crunchy shell.

Jophiel

The understanding one. She is seen as one of the most beautiful angels, and she always has a gentle hand. She's always trying to help with issues and be there for everyone with a cute smile. The only time she's upset, is when others are upset and she's unable or unsure how to help. Never has anything mean to say or harsh actions, only kindness. She loves humans, and thinks even demons can be taught better, she adores all. She's delicate, but she's been known to roll up her sleeves to help with physical work if someone needs it, and she's a great solver and logical, which people underestimate a ton. A sweet, sweet baby.

Gabriel

The messenger. She delivers messages not just in her realm, but between realms. She also delivers prophecies to humans, and alerts her fellow archangels of possible futures as well. She can see hazy branching futures while it is undecided, but if something is set then a clear vision can cause her to feel faint with its weight. Clear futures are rare, and often only comes from eventful things, but it's common to see her distracted as she flicks around possible small futures, and a lot of the time bumps into things if no one is steering her while she walks and does this. She can turn it off, but she's fascinated by it and chooses not to unless she needs to put her full attention on something, and even then she can feel the prophecies itching at her mind all around trying to get back in, so it's also for comfort she keeps the visions in her mind.

Sandalphon

The director of prayers. He closely monitors the human realm and makes reports often on the realm and how it's doing. He can be soft spoken and often reserved, but he's very nice and loving. He adores kids so much. He likes it when his siblings are enjoying them selves, and often rather watches than gets involved unless he's dragged to join. He enjoys art a lot, and can't play any sports with any skill even if you payed him.

He and metatron are twins.

Metatron

Scribe of the book of life. He keeps meticulous records of the human realm and the lives of most beings who reside there. He is rather shy, but with his looks and the way he talks in trying to act not shy, he sometimes accidentally seems flirtatious, he's mostly unaware of his effect, though. He often gets distracted observing things, as he likes to write journals on things unrelated to his job as well, and can sit for hours so he can write a vivid description of something, like water or trees or stones. A secret poet, but he rarely let's anyone see those books.

He and sandalphon are twins.

Uriel

The light. He's a teacher amongst angels and sometimes humans, bringing literal light and the light of wisdom. He's pretty laid back and prefers to achieve what he wants and needs with only the amount of energy absolutely needed. He has a calm energy, and is generally unbothered. He's curious about humans, but in the way researchers are curious about a discovery. They're more like funny little curiosities to him than anything equal to his fellow angels. He's not likely to be involved in matters that won't effect him, and would rather sit and keep watch with a small, unbothered smile. He's surprisingly stern under that calm smile, though, and is capable of being a bit harsh occasionally, but he acts more like it's a joke to him.

Part 2 with more angels coming soonish !

Also gonna add links to the picrews in a reblog.

[felassan]

Highlights and insights from the MELE launch cast & crew reunion panel

[rewatch link] [highlights & insights from the N7 Day 2020 reunion]

In case a text format is better for anyone (in terms of accessibility for example). Cut for length.

Some paraphrasing.

If anyone’s interested in just the line-reading session, it starts at timestamp ~1:04:45.

In addition to the cast and crew from the N7 Day reunion, at this reunion also in attendance were: 

Mac Walters (Project Director for MELE, Lead Writer of the og MET)

Melanie Faulknor (Lead Producer for MELE)

Crystal McCord (Producer for MELE)

Fred Tatasciore (Saren)

Seth Green (Joker)

Kimberly Brooks (Ash)

Ash Sroka (Tali)

This was the biggest reunion / meetup of the cast so far, and some of the cast and crew were meeting for the first time here.

It’s been so long since the og MET that PW & KW are getting to watch their kids experience playing it for the first time

JHale doesn’t play but since MELE she’s been sneaking around Twitch jumping into peoples’ MELE livestreams to lurk, watch and comment a bit

What drew Seth to the character of Joker? The whole concept of the game. He likes games and MET’s mechanics (different trees of adventure, stacking reputation, choices carrying between games) at the time were the most sophisticated that he’d ever heard pitched. He thought this was new and exciting and wanted to be a part of it. For the character they cast him based on his personality traits (i.e. he sounds quite similar to Joker personality-wise)

Would Seth ever want to play Joker again if the opportunity presented itself? Sure, he loves the character, and if the writers ever had more things to explore/expand with Joker he’d be down for it. 

Seth said that it’s a different kind of fan that approach him about this project. The fans have spent many many hours in an intimate exchange with “him” that he hasn’t been a part of, but they experienced it nonetheless. “I’ve hugged a lot of strangers, you know what I’m saying? It’s great, you get an interaction with fans that you never get as a performer in any other experience”

Seth has been a space guy since he was little, it inspires him

With the state of the world the way it is now [covid, masks etc], does Ash think Tali’s story will be more impactful now than it was before? Ash hopes so, and that anything they do here will have a positive impact on a bigger level. Ultimately that’s why most of them do what they do, they want to reach people in deep ways. She hopes Tali is an inspiration in courage, bravery, standing up for what’s right and thinking about the greater good

The [MELE I think] dev team had a last team meeting with Greg Zeschuk, one of the founders of BioWare, who they had invited to it. He was regaling them with stories of the inception of Mass Effect. “You would imagine this sort of well-laid out, drawing boards everywhere... [but] it was basically just a napkin sketch in a Greek taverna with him and Casey going ‘We wanna do a space opera’, and then it took off”

The process of creating lore through development is very organic. A lot of it comes from character and story development. It builds up over the course of the game’s development. They did the codex entries at the end, the idea being that if they saved them for as late as they could, then they could pull from the story, characters and meaningful moments, and build them from there

PW wrote a bunch of the codex entries, elevator banter & lots of little bits of lore. They describe their time on the og MET as being a “baby writer”. They originally came in after Mac had back surgery and a junior writer was needed to fill in. “It was really fun, it was us sitting in a room together going ‘What do you think a hanar or a krogan thinks about this or that’?” For a first project for them this was an amazing experience - the world building itself creatively with all these awesome people

They tried to add multiplayer in every game but only got it to work in ME3

They had a lot of plots laid out in ME1 that they called “global plots”. These were outside the core critical path and would take players from planet to planet, and were sprawling stories. They pulled out a lot of really interesting concepts and ideas from these that did make it into the game, but all of the global plots ended up getting cut due to time. Mac still has old diagrams and spreadsheets which detailed how all of these would have come together

Q. If you all had to take a long-distance road-trip with two squadmates, who would you take and why? PW: “Jack and Mordin. Mordin because the drive would never lack for things to talk about at length quickly, Jack because you know you wouldn’t pay for the room. You wouldn’t know how you’d get the room, but you wouldn’t be paying for it.” Courtenay: “I’d take Mordin because there’d be singing, and FemShep just to have this thing - happen. In the room that I get for free.” JHale at this point fistpumped while saying “Yeess” [then I think what she said was “steaming hot”]

Seeing as asari are long-lived, how open is Ali to one day reprising her role as Liara? “She’s a character very close to my heart, it was such a great opportunity. In some games that we work on the character has already been created or voiced by someone else, but this was really a group effort. When I first went into the booth, the only thing I’d seen of her was a sort of like, rendering, and we slowly kind of came to her voice and presence. I would love to bring Liara back any time... hey, she can live a really long time guys. :D”

Caroline and people who do what she does (Creative Performance Director) are so critical to the quality of games. Caroline: “This group of people are extraordinary. We were lucky to have such an extraordinary cast. Every [recording] session was new and challenging. It was a labor of love. I’m tearing up right now thinking about it. I’m remembering my last session with Jen, she was the last session, just sobbing and sobbing”. When JHale was trying to say the lines of Shepard’s goodbye with Garrus, a line hit her like a tonne of bricks and she was in tears and was like “Shepard does not cry”. “It took me a second, I got it out and took another run at it, it was in there but stuffed down as it should have been, and I finished the line [and there was silence in the booth when usually Caroline would have been talking to give direction or instruction] Did we lose her? Did Skype crash?” and it transpired that what had happened was that Caroline was in floods of tears

ME was the first time Keythe had ever come across branching dialogue. “Normally when we work on a script and it’s from page 1 to 100. In this it was get to page 5, then go back to page 2 and play it a little differently. The skill and the fun and joy of it was to be able to go back and play a scene in a different way, with different writing, with different outcomes. This was not only a challenge but a real treat. So to all the writers who dreamed up how this build-your-own-adventure plays out, you have my undying respect. It was a real pleasure”

VEDA is a proprietary system that BW use to record the dialogue, which is the closest way of having it feel like having people in the booth together (it’s all digital and VAs get to hear the line someone else has done in that scene). Caroline really pushed for this because of the amount of time etc that was wasted due to lack of this sort of thing on ME1. William: “It was a god send for me, thank you, getting to hear a cue from Jen or Mark.” Ali: “Us being able to bounce off each other helps make it more real. This for me was the most real acting experience on a game I had ever had - the writing being so good, Caroline helping us through, being able to hear each other.” JHale was always early coming in to record relative to the others so only got to use VEDA a few times - a bit of Liara content and the scene with Anderson towards the end. “Those two times, oh my god it was amazing”. VEDA being a thing also helps from a scheduling standpoint

Seth and Tricia Helfer (EDI) only got to be in the booth actually together 1 time, to record/shoot a piece of promotional video. “We actually got to record a scene together and we were like ‘oh my god this is the best thing ever’. It was great, even though I had to stand on a stool. She’s the best”

Seth: “As an actor, the kind of opportunity to do this kind of material in games just didn’t exist.” Fred: “Oh, never! I had never had a villain part that was complicated like that. In a game? Never before, it was really interesting”

Raphael always goes back to the fact that ME brought more women into gaming than any other game before it. “The writing and the complexity of the relationships gave us so much ballast”. “This set this apart from running, shooting, gunning, looting”

JHale: “What I noticed in the times before when I got to be around fans, there was a huge hunger among women in the gaming world for something they could really jump into. They were starving for something which fed them what they deserved and needed”

Mac: “[praising Caroline] Caroline would often come to us as writers and challenge us and say, as an example, ‘Do we really need another male character to do this? Why are we writing another male character for this?’ She pushed that very early and to the betterment of everything we created”

PW: “Karin and Cookie and all of the editors across the trilogy, [were critical in] making sure that Shepard sounded consistent - [especially since] we had a large writing team, writers came and went, Mac is the only one with a significant writing contribution on each of the games”

PW: “[on game dev] It’s a process of getting hundreds of people pointed in the same direction, all believing that this is something worth doing”

Ash: “Having all the different possibilities and avenues, going back to play them all out in the different ways [really helped to round the character of Tali out and make her feel like a natural person]”.

VAs only get paid for the original recording sessions, not again (as in they don’t any royalties or anything from something like the remaster)

In MELE, they left all the original credits at the end of each game in

Fred: “It’s creating in five dimensions [because of all the outcomes and relationships etc]”. Seth: “The cool thing is that the audience feels that. They’re immediately struck by how dense, thought-out, prepared and planned the entire universe is”

How was it for the new MELE devs coming onto this? Crystal: “I knew it [the series and fans’ love for it] was big, but I didn’t know it was BIG! Working on MELE there was this infectious excitement. Being part of it was so exciting.” Melanie: “I came on at ME3, I had a 3 or 4 year honeymoon period with BioWare. Coming onto MELE, I’m getting really emotional. One of my first meetings originally was going into a cinematic review for an epic Tali scene in ME3”. Crystal: “On MELE, we had an hour or 2 every day where the team came together to play the game. In those reviews, a lot of the devs who worked on the original would tell all these stories. It was really fun to hear all the inside stories on ME’s creation and be a part of that”

DC: “Should this unit get vaccinated?” Ash: “Of course”

How do they think ME will be viewed in the next 10-20 years, what do they think its legacy will be? A piece of history, ground-breaking. It broke down some barriers and opened doors for people. It’s a powerful, powerful community. It’ll continue to age quite well and be enjoyed by a new generation, it’s original and evergreen and there’s a lot in it that people go back to. There’s a lot of universal things in it (personal experiences, like there will always be love, people fighting to belong, trying to make sense of their pasts etc)

JHale and Alix did the “I love you Shepard, now go save the world again” Shep-Sam exchange and both got teary. It was then Seth’s turn to line-read: “Jesus Christ, now that I’m good and choked up, fucking mess”. Ali was also actually crying from it

Seth: “It can’t be overstated, this community is so large and global, it is one of the most powerful fandoms that I’ve ever been greeted with. Thank you”. Ash: “It’s the most amazing group of fans ever. We’re all so grateful”

Some funny anecdotes/stories:

PW didn’t realize that Alix could do different accents. They remember a time when they were listening in the booth and an Alliance soldier was complaining about the gear had been given. They said “Wow that’s really good, who is that?” and the VO producer said “That’s Alix, Patrick”, “because she wasn’t doing her [normal British accent but was doing a Californian accent instead]. Alix roasted me later for not recognizing her voice and never let me heard the end of it”

Alix: “[on Sam’s toothbrush] Caroline’s like, ‘So then she pulls her toothbrush’ and I’m like ‘What? Sorry? A toothbrush?’ and obviously it’s funny now as everyone knows that Sam’s thing is her toothbrush. Caroline’s like ‘Yeah, you’ve gotta like, flirt, over the toothbrush’ and I’m like ‘Who wrote this - a frickin toothbrush, are you kidding me? Really guys?’ ANYWAY. I was wrong and it worked. :D”

Fred: “I remember a 12 year old kid coming up to me and being like [flat tone] ‘Oh yeah. I killed you’.”

Keythe: “The other assasin I play is Kellogg in Fallout 4. People come up to me like ‘Omg. I love you so much. And then I fucking KILLED you!’”

Courtenay once went out to dinner in NZ with a few prominent people from the Game of Thrones cast. “Everyone around was making a big deal out of it like ‘Omg, it’s so-and-so from GoT’. I was feeling a bit like ‘Hi, I’m here, just nobody’. And I looked around in the restaurant and there's one guy in the corner and he’s got an N7 shirt on and he’s just looking at me like [knowing look, does a peace sign]. And I’m like ‘I got one! I love you guys!’”

PW: “I have a question for the cast members, because I don’t know if JHale has done this to all of you or if she just does it to the devs. Show of hands if Jen has ever made you do push-ups.” JHale: “It’s just you guys”

Karin: “One of my favorite editing files that I ever had was a ME file. It was before Seth was coming in for a session. I opened it up and it was just 20, 25 lines with the word ‘Shit’, over and over again, and I was like, ‘This file is perfect, I don’t need to do anything to it, have fun!’”

Seth: “Didn’t we do a track that’s like 60 seconds of laughing? Escalating laughing? I don’t know about other actors but for me getting into a laughing fit is kind of like trying to get into a crying fit, it takes the same level of commitment, you start to follow a path until like you’re hysterically uncontrollably laughing. I remember looking through the glass, and I’m deep in it at this point, and I make eye contact, and I can see from the other side of the booth and they’re like [making ‘okay you can stop’ now gestures] - ‘Like that’s plenty, we got it’ and I was like ‘okay, okay [dying]’”

JHale: “The craziest thing Mark and I had to deal with was how many times we had to say ‘I should go’”. Mark: “We also, Caroline and I tended to use that as short hand when I needed to go to the bathroom”

The panel host: “The first time I interviewed Ali was a decade ago. She did the ‘I’ll flay you alive with my mind’ line halfway through, it was my first interview and I literally fell out of my seat [from being star-struck]”

Ash line-read Tali’s drunk omni-tattoo scene and in response DC said “I totally get why people wanna romanticize all these characters :D”. Karin: “We’ve had more than one person come up to us and show us actual tattoos that looked like that”

[source]

[anthropwashere]

All That Describes a Joyful Heart

At last I can finally share this! \o/

This Trisha/Hohenheim fic was written for @fmacookbookzine which you should absolutely go follow because they’ll be announcing leftover sales soon! It’s perhaps the best quality physical zine I’ve ever gotten my hands on AND it comes with oodles of lovely art, oodles of lovely recipes, and three other fics besides mine!

Me being me I have research hole notes to share but I’ll stick them all at the end of the fic. I hope you enjoy!

=

Night fell hours ago, and with it came a cruel December wind that rattles the windows mercilessly in their painted frames. The old tree out front complains loudly, creaking and groaning its protests as it rakes its naked branches across the roof. But Hohenheim isn't worried. That tree had already been a proud specimen the year he bought the land he eventually built this house on. Its roots grow deep. It'll take a far more furious storm to bring it down than the one that threatens them on this, the longest night of the year.

There's still a part of him that falters over how the years are measured here in the West. Many, many parts of him, to be more accurate; many thousands of his friends who grew accustomed to how a year is measured in far-off Xing, while so many more still cling to the lost ways of Xerxes. Before, long decades ago now, he had no home to call his own. He'd slunk away from the unwanted fame and fortune at the then-Emperor's heel in order to find some semblance of peace amidst the ever-shifting sand dunes, and when that had only brought him renewed grief he'd traveled farther west, and farther still, all the while chasing....

Chasing dreams, he supposes. Dreams of peace and quiet, where half a million souls don't natter at him endlessly. Dreams where he's still human, still susceptible to the ravages of time as any other man. Bittersweet what-ifs and if-onlys.

But those dreams fell to dust, and less than dust, and eventually he came to a soot-blackened city of industry where people limped in on crutches and, after a time, strode out again on gleaming, impossible prosthetics. He met Pinako there in Rush Valley, some thirty-odd years ago now. Her raucous laughter and bawdy humor burrowed past all the walls he'd built around himself, and in the blink of an eye she'd grown dangerously dear to him. It came to pass that whatever she asked of him, he would do without question. It was in this way that she coaxed him time and time again to Resembool. For a funeral, for a wedding, for a birth, and once more to stay.

Well. He'd had no interest in returning to Xing, where they insisted on building ever-grander statues of him whenever he demonstrated an ounce of common sense. So why not buy a bit of land in the hometown of his friend, this mad inventor who dragged him over for a good meal and better drinks whenever she thought he'd been left to mope on his own for too long? Why not build a house there? Why not fill it with books, and shelves to organize them on? And even a monster like him would be wise to take care of himself, so why not fill the cupboards and pantry too while he was at it?

He'd never told Pinako the truth of himself. What he is, where he's really from. Any of it. It's not that he's ever thought such truths to be too heavy a burden for her; rather that he's always considered her a safe harbor away from such burdens. The Homunculus is out there, somewhere, and he's certain it has terrible plans for Amestris, but here in Resembool he can laugh loudly at the dark and feel brave for a few moments of his long, long life.

"Cenz for your thoughts?"

Hohenheim blinks, and finds himself stood stupidly in the middle of his kitchen. His friends titter and tease, directing his attention to the dining table where there sits nothing short of a miracle; a young woman of incomparable kindness, cleverness, and beauty. Stubbornness too, for all that she hides it behind a soft voice and bright eyes. She's refused time and again all his efforts to turn her away, to convince her to love anyone else but him. She's too stubborn by half, twice as determined as that in her efforts to know and understand him for all his faults, and forgive him for them too.

There's no other woman in the world like Trisha Elric. Of that, he's certain.

He meets her wry smile head on, feeling his heart melt anew. "Trisha," he says, enchanted by her very name. "I'm sorry—"

"How may times do I have to tell you to stop that?" She pats the table, drawing him over. "What are they saying?"

He's drawn to her helplessly, like iron filings to a magnet. Many of his friends suggest how he could tell her again all the ways he loves her; chastely, reverently, lustfully, and everything in-between. Many others scoff at him for being so besotted over a country girl without learning, reputation, or skill. He ignores all of them in favor of the few that tell him to mind the stockpot simmering gently on the stove. He prefers practicality to insults. It hasn't been long since he last stirred the pot, however; he can join Trisha at the table, for a little while.

He returns to the chair he'd been sitting in before he'd gone to check the stove and ended up lost in his thoughts. He reaches out to take her hand in his, and is charmed momentarily speechless when she reaches for him just as readily. The tangle of their fingers is a miracle he would never have dreamed of praying for.

"They're happy I'm doing this," he says, then hastily corrects himself. "That we are doing this."

Her smile gains a soft delight to its edges, her green eyes crinkling. "Me too. You were telling me about how tonight was practiced in Xerxes. Shab-e Chelleh?"

He has to pause in the wake of so many of his friends cheering to hear his native tongue spoken aloud by another. "شب چله," he corrects.

She pulls her hand from his long enough to pluck another almond from the bowl of mixed nuts on the table, unwilling to move her other hand from the full swell of her belly. "Well? Go on."

Hohenheim is certain he would have died of shock—if he were still capable of dying—the day she told him they were going to have a baby. A part of him—one all his own, and one that his friends all laugh readily at—can't help but think this is all a wonderful dream he's sure to wake from at any moment.

His friends clamor at him eagerly, shouting to be heard over each other, over suggestions of what he ought to say. Traditions kept, stories told, favorite dishes, and on, and on. He hums and chooses his own words. "We feared the darkness of winter, but we wanted to be stronger than it. So we came together on the last day of every autumn, most often in the homes of our elders. We stayed awake through the night, chasing away the dark and all its evils with fire and music, stories and laughter. We would eat the last of the summer fruits, though we prized watermelon and pomegranate most for the benefits we ascribed them. We knew the winter would be a little easier for our efforts."

"Watermelon? Pomegranate?"

It's still strange for him, to have someone wanting to learn his native tongue. But Trisha is an eager student, demanding translations at every turn. "Ah—هندوانه و انار."

She mouths the words carefully, testing their weight on her tongue with a sweet furrow to her brow. "Hendevâne? Anâr?"

"Yes. Well done."

"That's beautiful," she says. Sarcasm is a slippery thing, even harder to catch hold of in Amestrian. The loveliest thing about her is that he can trust her to mean exactly what she says. "And you?"

"Me?"

"How did you celebrate?"

He blinks. "Oh. Well. The royal family always held a grand feat, with attendees from as far east as—"

"Not the royal family," she interrupts. "Or the courtiers, or the foreign visitors. Not any of them. What did you do, Van?"

Not for the first time, he marvels to hear her call him that. Van, and only Van. Not even his friends address him so. It's still part of the name the Homunculus gave him, yes, but when she says it—with mischief in her eyes and an infectious smile on her lips—he likes it again. She makes his name sound like the gift it had been, so long ago.

"Ah," he says, stalling.

Memories are... difficult, sometimes, for him. The sheer number of years between Xerxes and here are daunting enough, but add to that all the stories his friends have shared with him of their own lives and he grows... confused. Easily so. It takes him a few moments to drum up a dusty etching of his youth to share with her.

"When I was a slave," he begins slowly, swallowing the natural flinch twined to those words. "Those of us who weren't needed would gather in the kitchens for our own celebration. I remember offering to help the cooks prepare ingredients so I could steal samples from the dishes on their way out to the feast."

"Naughty," she teases.

"Only if I'd been caught," he counters. He's had just enough wine—"You're drinking for two, after all," Trisha had joked earlier—to be brave enough to catch her hand as she reaches for another almond. He presses a triumphant kiss to the soft skin of her pale wrist. "And I was very quick."

Her laughter is a bright thing, warming him straight through.

He continues after that, telling her stories of the cusp of winter in long-ago Xerxes. He tells her all the patently untrue deeds he'd boasted of, his plans for mischief, his ploys to avoid work, his hopes a fine dish would turn out too ruined for the King's table so he could feast like a king instead. He tells her of the bards who would deign to sup with slaves, roughly translating their songs with help from his friends. He tells her some of the old superstitions; in believing that the natural coolness of a watermelon would preserve him from heatstroke all through the following summer, in going out to the stables to whisper a secret into a donkey's ear.

There are pauses in the telling, of course, to attend to the stove. His friends insist he do this right, or as right as he can in so small a village as Resembool. Half the needed ingredients are beyond his reach, so he had to get creative. Trisha's begun asking he cook the meals he'd enjoyed before coming to Amestris, and to teach her how to cook them in turn. There's a small but growing collection of recipe cards written in her neat hand, transliterated from Xerxesian, Xingese, and a half-dozen other languages as best as they can guess.

The centerpiece of tonight's meal is a hearty stew made with ground walnuts and pomegranate paste, accompanied by scorched rice flavored with sour cherries. Traditionally it was most commonly made with duck, but he can recall times when chicken or lamb were substituted well. But tonight is about tradition. Tradition, and memory. Only the good memories, if he has any say in it. Trisha only deserves to hear the good, now that she knows the very worst of him.

“How do you pronounce it again?” She asks. “Fesenjān?”

“فسنجون,” he corrects, and more slowly, “Fesenjoon. And the rice, prepared this way, is called ته دیگ.”

“Tahdig,” she echoes. “You’ve made that before, haven’t you? To go with the kabab koobideh you made for the fall sheep festival?”

He hums, thinking back. “Ah, so I did.”

“Good. I’m excited to have it again.” She eats another almond, covering her mouth as she chews. “If there’s any left we’ll have to bring it over to the Rockbells tomorrow. I think Yuriy just about cried, he liked it so much.”

“I’m not sure those were happy tears.”

“Oh, hush. No self-deprecating jokes in the house, remember?”

One of her many rules, enforced through rolled eyes and pointedly aggressive hugs. A lifeline cast across the chasm between then and now. Sometimes he forgets himself, but she is always there to coax him home again.

“Go on, then. I want to hear more.”

He stays by the stove, leaning against the counter with one eye on the simmering pot, as he continues his history. The scant collection of years after the Homunculus gave him the means and the tools to earn his freedom, when he was no longer a slave of the palace but an alchemist of the court. How each dish he had once seen crafted firsthand tasted all the richer for having earned his place at the table. How he'd marveled, quietly astonished, over how the nobles he had once envied could act as much the fool as any slave when they'd had too much to drink. How so much changed, yet how so much more remained the same.

He tells her of his very first شب چله as a free man, rubbing elbows with a merchant from Xing and an alchemist from Samskara. They'd both spoken Xerxesian atrociously, and only considered him their equal because he didn't share his past with them. One had spat at the eunuch boys serving at the King's table, while the other had leered hungrily at the slave girls as they'd danced. He remembers biting his tongue, afraid to cause upset, afraid his former master would change his mind if he caused a scene.

He sums up nearly 20 years in the time it takes to finish cooking, doling out two generous helpings of فسنجون و ته دیگ just as the clock on the mantel strikes eleven. 20 years. The same age Trisha is now. A mere slip of a woman with her whole life ahead of her. 20 years had been almost half his human lifetime, but it feels hardly more than a footnote compared to the centuries he's lived since. They don't have a thing in common, not really, but she's chosen him anyway.

As he rejoins her at the table, bowls in hand, he finds himself struck speechless for a second time tonight by the mere sight of her. He loves her. He loves her so much. He has cared for so many people in his life, but she is the first he has loved completely.

He has stood over so many graves. He doesn't want to outlive her too.

Her eyes light up with the first bite. It's the greatest compliment, the greatest achievement, to do something that makes her happy.

“Oh!” She exclaims, free hand jumping to her belly with a laugh. “I think he likes it too.”

He eyes the swell of her as if he might see the baby kicking from here. A father, he thinks wildly. He's going to be a father. His friends will never stop laughing at his first-time parenting jitters. Traitors, the lot of them.

“You’re sure it’s going to be a boy?” He asks, trying not to show his nervousness.

“I’m not certain,” she admits. “But it feels right. Does that make sense?”

He smiles helplessly. “Not at all. But I believe you.”

She'd said the same thing after he'd told her the truth of him. It feels right to say it to her in turn now.

"Are you sure you don't want to help pick a name?" She asks.

He shakes his head, adamant. “You’re the one doing all the work. It’s only right you get to choose.”

She hums, thoughtful.

Moments pass in that particular quality of silence found only in the wake of a good meal. He tries not to preen. It helps that a number of his friends are critiquing his cooking even as he tries to enjoy it. He should have added onions. He should have tried harder to find saffron. The rice isn't as caramelized as it could be. The duck is too tough. He didn't grind the walnuts fine enough. And on, and on.

Trisha's hand touches his wrist. He blinks at her, enamored and baffled equally. She smiles at him, enamored and exasperated equally.

“I asked what you were thinking,” she says.

It's not even midnight yet. Dawn is a long way off. For all that he's learned so much since he was a nameless slave, for all the centuries he's endured, there's still a part of him that doubts the sun will rise tomorrow. There's still a part of him, however small and smothered by his friends, that is the angry, empty-headed fool who willingly held out his arm when his master demanded he give up his blood. There is still a part of him that wishes desperately he recoiled from the knife, and in doing so saved his people. But there's no sense in wishing for what he cannot change.

“I’m thinking that I’m glad I’m here,” is what he tells her. “And that I love you.”

Outside the wind rages, surely full of devils with cruel fangs and crueler deeds in mind, but here in his home Hohenheim knows he's safe. Better still, the most wonderful woman in the world has chosen to take refuge with him here. More than that. She's chosen to forge a life with him here, to make and raise a family with him here. Out there, somewhere, the Homunculus is surely scheming. Inside him, over half a million souls roil restless, ceaselessly, and perhaps—God help him—even eternally.

But tonight? On this, the longest night of the year? Hohenheim chases jewel-bright pomegranate seeds with his spoon, warmed by just a hair too much wine, hand-in-hand with the love of his long, long life. Tonight, at least, Hohenheim finds himself content.

=

 And that’s the fic! I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you also enjoy me vomiting some THOUGHTS at you too.

I am in a constant state of being emotionally overwrought about my favorite square anime dad, so I was delighted to have a chance to write something truly syrupy sweet about him and Trisha and have the ready-made excuse to get lost down a research hole. Xerxes is secretly my FAVORITE research hole to get lost down because I actually studied Persian Farsi for a year once upon a forever ago. While I never got any kind of fluent in it, that time of fervent study certainly got me hooked on learning about Iran's rich and fascinating history. This fic is centered around a loose approximation of Yaldā Night, Iran's winter solstice festival, and Hohenheim sharing some of the traditions Xerxes once held with Trisha. I was intentionally vague and/or handwave-y in some parts, but if anything seems too egregiously inaccurate please let me know!

I called it Chelleh within the fic as, per my understanding at least, Yaldā was borrowed from Syriac-speaking Christians, and since Christianity doesn't exist in mangahood it seemed the "more accurate" thing to do.

A common tradition at Yaldā and Nowruz (the Persian New Year) is to read excerpts from the Divān of Hafez, perhaps the most famous of Iran's poets. The title of this fic comes from (per my copy of Elizabeth T. Gray Jr.'s collected translations, Wine & Prayer) ghazal 35. I'd share the full thing with y'all, but she only has the original Persian on her website and my copy of her book is in storage atm. :(

Fesenjoon/fesenjān, the dish they're making, is incredible and I highly recommend it. Tahdig, or scorched rice, is also fantastic.

Thank you again for reading! <3

[aphrodites-law]

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (12/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction. (ao3)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11]

A few minutes before closing time the next day, Clarke was waiting at the end of the counter for surprise customers. Gaia was already wrapping her scarf around her neck and Wells was pulling out ingredients for the next day. He had stayed much later today, going over resumes for their interviews tomorrow, but also reorganizing the kitchen.

After giving Gustus a call to offer him the job, Wells had realized that things would get crowded quite quickly. Gustus was a big man and the kitchen was on the smaller side, but it was workable with a different layout. Clarke thanked her lucky stars for her best friend's ability to adapt to situations, as she herself disliked big changes. Regardless of the possible growing pains ahead, it was an exciting time for the café.

Right after Gaia left with a tired wave, Wells found Clarke absentmindedly drawing the branches of the weeping fig. The last customers had left as well and the sun had already set. The mugs were clean, the plates drying, and the day's crumbs swept from the floor. It hadn't rained at all today; a small mercy given that Clarke couldn't stop thinking about her date with Lexa. She wasn't sure where they were headed, but heavy rain might've halted Lexa's plans and she didn't have the patience to wait another day.

Wells peeked at her drawing pad and sighed. "God, she's a beauty," he said dreamily.

Clarke snorted. His fondness for their Ficus was a running joke between them. "Weirdo."

Wells gave her a tired grin as he buttoned up his wool peacoat. He always looked so sharp in winter wear, whereas Clarke always felt like a bulky bear. She'd dressed up a little today - fitted dark pants and a knitted sweater with a nice scoop neck. Her boots were clean and if her hair's curls had loosened over the day, she had still clearly made an effort to look presentable.

“So, you had your vision," said Wells.

Clarke dropped her pencil. "Wh- I- what?"

"It was a few weeks ago, wasn't it? When you came in looking like you hadn’t slept a wink."

Shame gripped her. "Wells, I-"

“You’re looking more crimson than cranberry juice,” he pointed out with a laugh.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to bring it up," she said. She'd always felt guilty for keeping it from him, but it wasn't the easiest topic either. "Did Raven tell you?"

"Nah, she even deflected when I wondered aloud. You just started acting weird whenever someone mentioned visions. You hate lying, so I figured you didn't want to be asked if you'd had one."

Clarke closed her notepad. She should have known he'd catch on. "I didn't mean to be secretive. You know I would've told you the minute it happened, it just wasn't… family friendly."

"Yeah, I figured. It's good though? I mean, you're happy, right?"

It was a surprising question, though it shouldn't have been. Clarke hadn't really thought about it. It wasn't something she asked herself or even expected. For so long happiness had just revolved around the café. Finding the right name; the right building; the right theme. She'd judged her days based on their achieved goals and for a while it had been a thrill. And it still was - her work made her proud and it made her happy too - but it wasn't everything. She'd come to face that recently, and though the wake up call had been… unconventional, certainly, she was grateful for it.

"I am. I'm seeing her, actually. The woman from my vision. You'd recognize her - she's a regular."

Wells nodded as if he'd already put two and two together. “At Octavia and Lincoln's party I saw you talking to her. Then it clicked she wrote that article on Finn - I remembered checking her profile on the Gazette when it dropped."

"Yeah, she works there. She's writing a piece on the visions actually."

"So it's getting serious?" He asked hesitantly.

And really, Clarke couldn't fault his curiosity. She'd been so wrapped up in Lexa that she'd neglected their relationship and now he was unsure if he should gently prod or wait.

“It’s new and we’re taking things slow, but yeah, I'm hoping it'll work out. I really like her."

Wells looked over her shoulder toward the entrance and smiled. "Seems like she really likes you too."

Clarke turned around and saw that Lexa had parked her car and was just crossing the street toward the café.

"Are you coming in tomorrow?" He asked her.

Clarke whipped around, her cheeks flushed. "What? Of course I am. Why wouldn't I?"

"Dunno, you tell me." He laughed as he checked for his keys in his pocket. "Gaia and Harper have the early shift, in case you forgot. We just have those three interviews in the afternoon, but you already know that."

"I do know," she replied with a frown. "There's no reason I wouldn't be here earlier. I'm always here. What are you saying?"

He shrugged, entirely too proud of himself, and walked toward the back exit. "No one will fault you if you take a break. Enjoy your date!"

"I will! And I'll see you in the morning!" Clarke replied stubbornly.

"I'm sure you will!" he retorted, still snickering, before closing the door behind him.

A hand touched Clarke's shoulder and she startled.

"Sorry," Lexa said with a gentle smile. She'd put on her black coat today, the top buttons undone to reveal her sweater - a reddish brown this time, perfect for the fall. Her hair was down and her eyeliner perhaps more pronounced than usual. Clarke wondered if she'd applied it in her car. She looked beautiful.

"Hi, baby," she softened, forgetting all about Well's teasing. He didn't know what he was talking about. Tonight was just going to be a nice date. Some food, wine - whatever Lexa had planned. They were still going slow. Clarke didn't have any expectations other than enjoying their time together. She liked their pace. It was… frustrating at times, sure, but it was working. They had both opened up to each other.

"Hi," Lexa whispered before she inched forward so that she could kiss her over the counter. Clarke sighed into it, having imagined such sweetness all day long.

"Am I too early?" Lexa asked. "Do you need help cleaning up?"

Clarke brushed her thumb over Lexa's jaw. "No, I'm done. I just need to grab my coat and close up."

"Was that Wells who went out back?"

"Yes, he was being ridiculous."

"I thought he usually left earlier?"

"He does, but he's been rearranging the kitchen. I think he's worried Gustus will find it too small."

"Gus has an entire farm and acres of land at his disposal, but he sleeps in his shed because it's warm," Lexa said. "He won't mind."

Clarke beamed, delighted to hear it. "I'm going to give you Wells' number and you're going to text him just that. "

While Clarke left to grab her coat, Lexa worried her lip. "Oh but he doesn't really know me…"

"He will."

Clarke came out from the back with her coat and scarf on. She pulled out her set of keys. "He's my best friend and you're my-" she stopped herself. "I think you'd get along great. He loves theater, devours literature, and he already thinks you're amazing for taking Finn down. So don't worry about it."

"Well, that reminds me: Collins went ahead with suing the Gazette."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

They made their way to the front, where Lexa opened the door for Clarke. "No. It'll never stand, but he aims to waste our time and money."

"Waste of time and money - that's been his motto since birth."

Lexa wrinkled her nose. "Let's talk about something else."

"Please. So where's my carriage?"

Lexa laughed.

* * *

Lexa may not have found a pumpkin to turn into a carriage after all, but her car smelled like apples and she drove so smoothly Clarke could've closed her eyes and imagined they weren't moving at all. She had never thought 'great driver' would do it for her, but here she was eyeing Lexa's hands on the steering wheel and feeling hot.

"How's the writing going?" Clarke asked, clearing her throat when her voice started off slightly rough.

Lexa took a left, which would've surprised Clarke if she'd paid any attention to the road. But all she could think about was Lexa's razor-sharp focus and how she yearned to be the reason for it.

"Good, I finished a first draft. My writing partner is looking at it for now. I need it out of my sight for a few days."

"Partner, huh?"

Lexa smiled as she kept her eyes on the road. "Echo. She wrote most of the FC&B article."

"Did you write for other newspapers before?"

Lexa nodded. "Two. I've been lucky, professionally. Smaller papers have always been more interesting to me, so I stayed away from national ones. I was able to climb the ladder a lot faster than some of my old classmates."

"The Gazette must've been a change of pace. New city, new job - I don't think I could handle it."

"When they hired me I was so happy to be working I just threw myself into it," Lexa admitted. "I got the idea on the Mountain Men soon after, just from reading old archives about them. That kept me busy, so I didn't have time to worry about fitting in. It was nice. Exciting. It felt like falling in love with my job again. Then one day Echo invited me to grab drinks with other colleagues and… I realized things had fallen into place already."

"Costial is pretty magical like that," Clarke said with a smile. She loved it when Lexa talked about her time here. Sometimes it was easy to forget she hadn't even been here a year yet. Clarke remembered her first year in the city - how she'd felt like she'd always belonged here. How she couldn't wait to build her life here. And college had been fun, and sometimes she walked by the campus just for the nostalgia of it, but it was the years after that had really shaped her life into what it was today. There had been many tears and failures before the café, but she'd never once thought of leaving. She hoped Lexa felt the same.

One glance outside the window and Clarke finally had an idea where they were headed. They were quite far from the center of the city now, just a few miles away from Busy Moose Park and its lake on the outskirts. Lexa took the road that led to the park, but she didn't make the turn Clarke had expected and instead continued straight.

"Are we going to the factory?" Clarke asked.

The chocolate factory and its surroundings were certainly a sight to behold, and popular with teens because of its smells and aesthetic quality, but there wasn't much to do unless you brought a picnic. Which was unlikely to be comfortable anyway in this cold.

"Not quite," Lexa answered with a secretive smile.

A few minutes later she finally pulled over into a small parking lot, checking for Clarke's reaction as soon as they got out of the car.

“I know I said I’d take you somewhere more upscale, but I thought you might really like this place."

Because the factory was just a ways down the road and it was windy tonight, the bold smell of chocolate permeated the air. They had stopped in front of a rustic restaurant surrounded by a garden. Small lights glowed softly against the brick walls, complimented by the dancing shadows from a few lanterns. There was a patio with beams covered in twining vines, the plants and wisteria also covering the top like a ceiling. Powerful heaters kept the biting cold at bay, no doubt, making the entire place look like a winter fairytale.

It was the kind of romantic setting Clarke would have made fun of in front of friends while secretly hoping to experience it one day.

“How the hell have I never been here before?” She asked in astonishment.

With a hand on her back, Lexa led her toward the entrance.

“Did you know Icicle? Italian restaurant?”

“Yeah, that rings a bell.”

“This is it. The owner retired and her son took over - revamped the whole place from top to bottom and gave it a mountain lodge theme. He figured they should capitalize on the location more, especially the constant sweetness in the air. It just reopened a few weeks ago. Featured in the Gazette and everything.”

“Oh, that might’ve been when I was a bit angry at you," Clarke remembered and gave Lexa a teasing grin. "Deleted the app like it was some kind of statement."

Lexa scrunched up her nose, not too eager to remember that time. The hostess seated them inside at a secluded table for two. The light was dimmed and there was a candle between them; and even two squares of chocolate wrapped in gold foil.

After they took off their coats and sat, Lexa bit her lip. “It's not too much, is it?"

"Are you kidding? It's gorgeous." Clarke reached for her hand. "You're always surprising me."

A waiter gave them a menu and a basket of bread. They looked like mini baguettes and Clarke was temped to steal one for Wells.

“God, I almost forgot about this smell," she said, taking a deep breath. The chocolate from the factory still wafted faintly in the air, and mixed with the smell of food it had Clarke already salivating for dinner. "In college we used to hang out by the lake a lot. If the wind was on our side we’d always get a whiff from the factory. Not even edibles could beat that.”

Lexa arched a brow. “Edibles, huh?”

“Please, I know you’ve dabbled," Clarke scoffed.

“What makes you think that?”

“You have the vibe.”

“The pothead vibe? I thought I was unreadable.”

“Oh you have that vibe too," Clarke laughed. "But then there’s the tattoos, the plants, the way you write about nature. You’re curious, open minded, andyou went to a liberal arts college. You must’ve tried it at least once. I think that’s how you approach most things: don’t knock ‘till you try it. Am I close?”

Lexa looked away, slightly flummoxed. “It sounds like I’m more of an open book then.”

"Maybe that's a good thing…" Clarke offered with a hopeful smile, thumb caressing the back of her hand.

"Maybe it is," Lexa agreed.

They both picked the apricot glazed chicken with roasted potatoes, pairing it with a white wine. Throughout dinner Clarke felt such pleasant warmth, both because of the wine and Lexa's steady gaze on her. She was relaxed and unfairly charming; a great listener by all accounts, but also coming out of her shell when it came to her own past. Clarke knew it wasn't easy for her, which made it all the more special.

"In retrospect I should've figured politics weren’t for me when I started screaming at my television every time the news came on."

Clarke grinned, knowing the sentiment all too well. "Good thing you don't work for a newspaper or anything…"

Swallowing the last of her wine, Lexa gave her a playful smirk. "Local news. I can take the city hall drama. I actually enjoy it with my morning pastry."

"That I can believe. You always look so deep in thought when you read. Harper dropped a cup once and you didn't even flinch."

"Really?" Lexa asked. "Is there anything else I do that I should know about?"

The waiter stopped by with their desserts: molten chocolate cake for Lexa and a slice of pear tart for Clarke.

"It's not like I stare or anything," Clarke clarified as she grabbed her spoon. "Your seat just happens to be in my vicinity."

"Mm." Lexa smirked. "I guess I just pop up sometimes…" she trailed off, her tone heavy with implication.

She did this occasionally, but more boldly recently. Alluding to Clarke's vision seemed to greatly entertain Lexa.

"Ha, you're funny," Clarke deadpanned.

"Did I also crack jokes while I was kissing you - and I quote - everywhere?" Lexa goaded.

Clarke shrugged as she chewed on her tart. "Actually you were a lot more suave than you are now. Pity."

Lexa laughed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Please, you're very proud of yourself. And it's not fair all I have to go on is your distaste for coffee." Clarke remembered how frantic she had been after her vision, her mind firing questions every second. “Did you know I went to a vision reader right after?”

It had been an impulse and she'd regretted it, but she figured Lexa was familiar with them.

"Really?" Lexa asked, surprised.

“Yeah, the one by the market. Becca’s Reading or something. I bailed at the last minute.”

“I actually haven’t spoken to one. I was toying with the idea, but it might be an entirely different article.”

Clarke grimaced. “They’re just opportunistic money grabbers.”

Lexa offered a spoonful of her cake, which Clarke took before plopping a bit of pear on top of it. The warm chocolate melted the pear in her mouth and she sighed at the taste. Lexa smiled.

“It’s a different point of view. Besides, listening to so many stories might’ve given them some valuable insight even if they opened a shop for the wrong reasons. If my job’s taught me anything it’s to not judge a book by its cover.”

"Hmm you're good at it - your job. And I'm not just saying that because you're wining and dining me."

Lexa looked bashful. "You know, I remember when you yelled at me to get over myself."

"Not our finest moment…"

"No," Lexa agreed. "But it was needed. Before that there was so much I wanted to tell you, but… couldn't."

"I know." Clarke remembered that feeling as well. After the vision she'd look at Lexa and be so certain there was so much left unsaid between them, yet neither of them knew where to start, or if it was reciprocated. "I should've let you interview me - just ripped off the Band-Aid. It would've explained a lot."

"I would've never made it past the first question," Lexa said. "Can you share what you saw, Clarke?"

Clarke smiled cheekily around a mouthful of her tart. "Well, I would hope that kind of confession would score me a date at least."

"Oh I would have asked you out on the spot," Lexa replied with a smirk.

Clarke gasped. "How very unprofessional of you."

"If you hadn't noticed, my professionalism hangs by a thread whenever I'm near you."

Clarke let out a small laugh. "Well, that's one thing I'm glad for."

* * *

After their dinner, Lexa suggested they walk in the park before it closed. It was cold but their coats were thick and the wind was minimal. Clarke had no desire to part just yet, and so took Lexa's hand in hers as soon as they left the car by the park's entrance.

They had a little less than thirty minutes before it closed, but enjoyed every second as they strolled by the lake. The half-moon was reflected on the quiet surface, and though there were a few other people, Clarke felt like they had just stepped into a world of their own.

Clarke nudged Lexa toward one of the Beech trees, its autumn leaves still clinging bravely to its thick branches. They settled beneath it, lying down on the soft ground where leaves piled atop the grass. Between the branches they could see some stars, and Clarke wondered if maybe the park could close and leave them be. There was nowhere else she wanted to be.

She heard some rustling and then saw Lexa look down at her, her face framed by her wavy hair and the stars above. She took Clarke's breath away.

"You're so beautiful," Lexa murmured, struck by a similar thought it seemed. "You have the kindest eyes and the warmest smile. It's the first thing I ever noticed about you."

Clarke reached up to kiss her, parting only when she felt Lexa's hand on her stomach. Even atop her coat and thick clothing, she could feel its warmth.

"I think you're drunk on wine and chocolate."

"Then you'll be relived to hear I'm a very sincere drunk."

Clarke giggled, which made Lexa's smile stretch in such a fond way. She pressed closer to her, the tip of her nose brushing against her neck. She kissed the small spot, as if to apologize for her cold nose.

"I wonder so much about you, Clarke."

Clarke hummed. "What do you wonder about?"

“I’ve spoken with a lot of people. Heard the visions about reuniting with loved ones, getting over addictions, graduating. There’s been some romance of course,” Lexa said. “Aden’s first kiss, though he couldn’t see his boyfriend’s face. Echo celebrating a wedding anniversary with her husband. But so few - even online in anonymous circles - so few like yours.”

Now Clarke felt warm again, mostly from the blush on her cheeks. “I don’t believe that.”

Lexa lifted her head from her shoulder. “Have you personally heard of any?”

“Raven saw Wells naked.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Okay, so I'm a pervert, what can I say?”

“No,” Lexa replied, tickled by Clarke's little huff. “You’re a mystery. You intrigue me.”

Clarke cleared her throat. “Well I’ve had a bit of a dry spell. I had flings, but… I didn't allow myself anything more. The café was taking up all my thoughts and for a while it worked for me. Then the days got long again, and lonelier… Raven said it was probably just my body wanting me to snap out of it.”

“And what do you think?”

Clarke did wonder about it then, or at least differently than she had in the past. It wasn't so long ago she'd asked these questions herself. She'd been so frustrated she couldn't discuss them with the person she'd shared it with, and here she was, lying right next to her in a bed of leaves.

She touched Lexa's hand on her stomach, lacing and unlacing their fingers, gently playing with them as she tried to make sense of everything.

“Have you never fantasized about a stranger?" She asked quietly, catching Lexa's eyes. "Someone who knows nothing about you and yet knows exactly how to make your body soar?"

“That’s not what you saw though, is it?” Lexa murmured. “I wasn’t a stranger in your bed. I knew you and you knew me."

Clarke felt her heart beat faster. She wanted so badly to kiss Lexa again; to feel her body against hers like the night on her couch.

"Lex…"

Their lips were just a hair's breadth apart now. To anyone else, they would've looked like they were kissing.

"How was it different, Clarke?"

Clarke swallowed, trying to find the words. “How? The way you handled me - needy and possessive, but tender and attentive too. Like you were in charge of my pleasure and you had to remind me."

She saw Lexa swallow and so continued, eager to share everything this time: "You said my name and it almost sounded like a prayer - like you couldn’t believe we were together. I never heard my name like that before. I never thought I could make someone feel lucky."

"God, Clarke, you have no idea." Lexa exhaled before closing the gap and kissing her. It wasn't like any other kiss they'd shared tonight. It felt like a promise, almost. Lexa tasted so sweet on her tongue and Clarke could only wonder if all of her was just as heavenly.

She cupped the back of her neck and felt herself throb with desire, her mind filled with both the reality of Lexa and the last of her vision.

"I can even remember the smell of us," Clarke sighed between kisses. "How sticky my skin felt, like we'd been in bed for hours."

"Clarke - fuck."

Clarke pushed Lexa on her back and cupped her cheeks, claiming her lips quite quickly again. She licked into her mouth and moaned at the silky feel of Lexa's tongue.

"Sometimes I'd try to picture us again but you'd disappear," Clarke continued, eyes closing when Lexa started kissing down her neck. "I wasn't sure if it was you anymore. But then you'd come back. I'd feel your hands, your mouth on me… lower, and lower…"

Lexa let out a groan and pinched the bridge of her nose before falling back on the ground, the leaves rustling beneath her. Something in the way she set her jaw made Clarke frown.

"Baby…" she said, tracing a finger over her cheekbone.

"Did you call her that?" Lexa asked without thinking.

Clarke retracted her hand and paused. A grin spread on her face. “What? Are you jealous… of yourself?”

Lexa glared petulantly. “No.”

“You are."

Lexa remained quiet, so after a moment Clarke poked her arm. “Well what about yours?”

"Mine?"

"I wasn't even in it - how do you think that makes me feel?"

Lexa shook her head. "You were in it."

"You said you were just standing in a random kitchen making coffee."

"Yes."

"So?"

They heard the echo of a bicycle's bell on the pathway and turned to the sound, but the couple soon rode away. Clarke looked at Lexa again, finding her staring at the sky.

“What are you keeping from me?”

A small smile grew on Lexa's face - but she remained tightlipped.

"How was I there?" Clarke asked again, deeply curious.

"The doodles," Lexa simply replied.

Clarke remembered that she'd found that to be a strange detail before. She didn't put up her doodles on walls and she didn't frame them. These had to be important. Something that made her identity unmistakable in Lexa's eyes. Sure it could be that her style was recognizable, but Lexa made it sound as if it was something else.

“Lex…"

She lifted Lexa's chin to catch her gaze.

“If I tell you, I worry it might not happen," Lexa admitted.

Clarke bit her lip, finally understanding. It was almost like saying a wish out loud - fearing it might not come true if you broke that single rule.

“You want it to happen?” She asked instead.

A breeze passed as Lexa looked at her intently, leaving no room for doubt. “Yes.”

There was no waver in her voice. Not even an ounce of hesitation. The sheer confidence set Clarke alight. She’d forgotten how it felt to feel so wanted. Whatever it was in that frame… Lexa clearly hoped for it in their future. The fact that she wanted it with her, and no one else, made her desire swell.

She leaned down and kissed her right against the grass and by the slumbering tree, forgetting all about the doodles. Lexa believed it was her - that was all that mattered. After weeks of being unsure of where they stood, if her feelings were even shared, she didn't need anything more.

Lexa wound her arm around her waist, her mouth still as hungry against Clarke's. When they pulled away, she pressed their foreheads together.

“I wish I could see us like you did," she murmured wistfully.

"What would it change?"

“Maybe… maybe if I knew I was good enough for you… If I was sure that I wouldn’t- that I wouldn’t hurt you-"

Clarke shook her head. "Don’t fill your head with thoughts like that. Let's just be here, together, and worry about the rest when it comes. I know it's hard for you, but this - us - right now… it's good, isn't it?"

Lexa nodded. "It's the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."

Relieved, Clarke tucked her head beneath Lexa's chin. "Then just be with me. You can be happy, baby. You have a right to it. Don't let anyone or anything tell you otherwise."

Eventually they made their way back to Lexa's car, neither of them interested in picking up their leisurely pace.

"I'm sorry we ended up walking so much," Lexa said.

"You fed me beforehand, so it's forgiven."

Lexa smiled. "Good to know."

Before they reached the parking lot, Clarke decided to ask what had been on her mind: "I know you said Costial feels like home to you; that you found your place here, but… do you see your future here? Because this is it for me. And I'm… I like you, Lex. I like you a lot. I don't want to be an interlude. I don't think I could take it."

"Clarke," Lexa stepped closer to her. "You're not an interlude, you're - God, you've been in every act of my life here. I don't want to go anywhere. I- I want to be with you. That's what I know for certain. Is that alright for now?"

"It is."

Lexa kissed her softly and then smirked. "I may not have had erotic visions of myself entwined with a hot local, but I still want to stay here."

Clarke shoved her playfully. "I don't even like you anymore."

They laughed the whole way to the car.

* * *

It seemed like a tradition already; Lexa walking her to her door while Clarke racked her mind for a way to linger. When they finally arrived she leaned against her door and sighed.

"Tonight was amazing."

Lexa hummed. "I'm glad."

"I'm definitely taking you out this weekend," Clarke said.

"You are?" Lexa asked, tilting her head to kiss her again.

Clarke closed the gap as she wrapped her arms around her neck. The kiss was slow; amatory, but as always it could not go on for too long before hands wandered.

"I hope you have sweet dreams," Lexa said, her eyes hooded and her lips slightly redder.

"Oh I will."

Lexa glanced at her mouth. "If I pay you a visit again maybe you could keep a journal close by. I'd love some notes on my performance."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Remind me why I ever told you?"

"What? That we lasted hours?" Lexa husked.

Right. Clarke narrowed her eyes and let her hands slowly drag down Lexa's arms. Now, Clarke wasn't innocent. She knew fully what made her look good, even when her coat was buttoned up. She had let Lexa tease her and goad her about the vision all night, and she had kept her retort to herself. But no more.

She pressed her body closer to Lexa's, unmistakably provocative with the way their breasts touched.

“Make fun all you want, Lexa, but remember this: I’ve seen all of you while you haven’t seen an inch of me.” She felt Lexa’s hand tighten on her waist. “I’ve felt your body against mine. Your mouth on my thighs. I’ve felt your tongue inside me.” She glanced down at Lexa's lips and then back up, proud of the gobsmacked look on her face. “So you can tease me. You can push my buttons. I can take it. But you? You only have your imagination." She stepped back and gave her sultriest smile, "And trust me, it’s got nothing on reality.”

She turned around and quickly unlocked her door, then looked over her shoulder. "Thanks for the date, baby."

As soon as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, Clarke knew she'd just played a dirty hand. But Lexa had teased her at all night and all was fair in lust.

With a wicked grin, too pleased by the night's events, Clarke took off her coat and slipped out of her shoes and socks. And because she just couldn't resist one last look, she walked to her window and waited. Finally she saw Lexa walk out of the building. She seemed unfocused, going right and then left, forgetting where she'd parked.

But then she stopped and turned around.

Clarke's smile fell. Just watching Lexa like this, seeing the effect she had on her… it changed something. She had closed the door in the spur of the moment - because they were good at testing each other. Because she had thought tonight should end there, on another game of theirs.

But she didn’t want to play anymore.

And maybe Lexa realized it too. She looked up and found her apartment's window.

Their eyes met.

Clarke reached out for the curtain, gripping it so tight her knuckles went white. She couldn't look away from those eyes in the moonlight if she tried. Even if the ground started shaking beneath their feet.

"Lexa-" she started before stopping herself. It had to be Lexa's decision. Clarke had already made hers. She couldn't call out to her. Not for this. Lexa had to choose.

Clarke held her breath, unsure she'd even be able to leave this spot if Lexa did walk away after all. Until-

Lexa bolted back toward the building.

Clarke watched her disappear from view and then heard her intercom. She rushed toward it and pressed the buzzer, her heart in her throat. Still barefoot, she pulled the door open and waited. Footsteps thundered up the flights of stairs, closer and closer.

Tonight had not ended. Not yet.

[boxboysandotherwhump]

The new boy in town.

Tags:  @salamancialilypad  @whumpfigure @albino-whumpee @comfy-whumpee  @ashintheairlikesnow   @haro-whumps   @moose-teeth @vickytokio​ @yet-another-heathen​ @orchidscript

Chapter 2

CW: body-shaming/ insults, discrimination/ dehumanization of mutants, an insect gets hurt, a nearly fistfight ensues

Heat thrummed through Gideon’s bones and throbbed in unison with his building headache. His patience had shriveled up like dried fruit under the torrid summer sun while this horrible lavender scent clung to his hair,  his skin, his clothes, making him dizzy.

It became stronger on the village outskirts, Gideon realized as he hurried after Director Sahin. The man ascended the crooked stone staircase effortlessly, his moss-green robe billowing behind him. His artfully decorated spear swayed with every step he took, not brushing a single leave. The only thing rustling through the underbrush was the wind and the creatures living there.

A twig caught in Gideon’s black curls, while the Director rambled on about the virtues of disciplinary work. How it encouraged the growth of one’s character, or some shit. The twig broke off with a quiet snap, painfully pulling at his scalp. Gideon’s mood dropped even lower. It was going to be a nightmare to fiddle all those shitty branches and leaves out of his hair later on.

He was seconds away from losing his barely-held composure. 

The only thing keeping him from bursting at the seams was the promise he’d whispered into his brother's grave, a last farewell bedded beside a corpse. 

Gideon had come to this godforsaken village to learn how to fight and survive in the forest, not to become some obedient little soldier boy! But in order to do that, he had to get cleared for training again and out of suspension.

If he had to play the director’s errand boy for a day to achieve that, so be it. He had endured worse.  

“Haaah, here we are.” Director Sahin inhaled deeply, arms falling wide. “Finally. My dear friend’s farm. Tell me, young Gideon, is it not simply beautiful?”

Gideon shrugged. “‘S’ okay.”

Granted, the house did look cozy, resting encircled by giant roots with its warm brick walls, but those gigantic snails everywhere sent a shudder down his spine. If he had to touch those slimy monsters he-

The farm’s sliding doors opened before he could utter a protest, and a fine-boned, middle aged woman emerged, followed by a huge man with a greying beard.  A boy, probably his own age but significantly shorter, held the door open for them.

The older woman’s lips curled into a crooked smile as she caught sight of Director Sahin, whose whole face had lit up. Dark eyes shining. 

“Moira. My darling. Please do not tell me you are about to leave? Not when I looked forward to seeing your beautiful face again.”

Gideon suppressed a gag. Moira crossed her arms, smile growing sharper. Her eyes held a warm twinkle as she spoke. “Eric; charming as ever.”

The man behind her stepped closer and huffed:  “M happy ‘ter see ya too, Eric.”

“Oh Ansgar you flatter me. But I must confess, I am not here solely for tea and a chat-“

The Director rattled on and Gideon’s focus wandered to the girl that had stepped out the door behind a blonde woman. A fancy grey blouse hung off her thin shoulders, nearly covering the  lace trim of blue silk short. A stark contrast to the more practical attire favored by most villagers. But that wasn’t what caught Gideon’s attention, no, he had seen all sorts of fancy getups up in Berlin -in the city's upper ring that is- what drew his eyes to her, was her face.

Its left side was oddly deformed, her pale skin uneven like a creased silk sheet, drawing her left eye down and her full lips up. She mouthed something to the boy, smiling, earning a smile from him in turn.

“Ah yes may I introduce: Gideon, my newest student.”

Having lost most of the adults’ conversation Gideon tuned back in just in time, to give them a curt nod.

“I will send him to collect the salve after the feast, then,” Director Sahin announced, please as can be. 

“Wonderful.” Moira clapped her hands. All back to business brusqueness.  “Sahar will appreciate not having to deliver it for once. Right?”

The other boy snapped to attention, green eyes wide and fingers twitching like the hands of a pianist. A grateful smile rose to his face and he nodded.

Oh great, so Gideon had to take the trip up here twice. 

They descended the stairs, lined up one after another on the narrow path. Sahar right in front of him, following the strange girl. He had avoided Gideon’s eyes as he squeezed past him, careful not to touch, probably scared off by his uniform. The school’s emblem, embroidered on his stainless white shirt, proudly declared him a scout in training. Deadly. Fearless. The little farm boy definitely did better not to mess with an insect slayer like him.

The girl came to an abrupt halt, frozen in the woodland’s shadows before it gave way to the dusty hill road. Gideon nearly collided with Sahar, when he heard it.

A primal, bone chilling hiss tore through the hot afternoon air, rattling through his very core. 

Every hair on his body stood, muscles tensing, on edge just like his fraying nerves. 

He knew that sound. 

Even though he’d heard it only once before. On the crusade from last-stand-berlin to the village, where he had seen the beast it belonged to lurk on the riverside, watching them.

He would never forget a spider’s hiss. 

And there one stood, right in front of him, its eight thorny legs towering high above its ugly head. The spider’s giant yaws worked, rubbed against each other in agitation. Its razor sharp fangs glistened in the sun.

A man sat atop its massive, hairy body, scar-faced and clad in a straw cape that was fastened to a beetle’s shell armoring his left shoulder. Shimmering in iridescent hues of blue and green. The man did not smile as he glanced down at them. A silent challenge was edged in the hard lines of his rugged face.

Tense static filled the air, an almost tangible thing that bit at Gideons fingers. It wormed its way into his bones, crawled over his scalp.  

He almost, almost, flinched when Director Sahin shouldered past him, spear drawn and followed by the other man. Both planted themselves right in front of him and the others.

The intruder’s scar stretched with the rise of his eyebrows, eyes slitting in a lazy half-grin.

 “Hey, there. Hold your horses. Before someone does something he regrets later.”

“That a threat?” Ansgar grunted.

Moira ducked past him, face twisted in a furious scowl as she spit. “Oh, something other than entering our village on a damn wolf-spider you mean?!”

The corded muscle in her boney arm flexed as she shook her fist at the man, unveiling a wrath behind her primly dressed form that no one would have wanted to fall victim to.

He, however, just leaned closer, smile stretching into a shark-tooth grin. “Gutsy, are we? I like that.”

Director Sahim stepped up beside her, spear held in a steady grip. “How could you make it past our InD-Units with this monstrosity?! God show you mercy if you did something to-”

“What do you think I am?!” the intruder drawled, hands raised in mock offense. “A monster?! Only reason I got past your insect defenses was this baby here.”

Gideon had to stand on his tiptoes to catch a glance of the small round device that sat embedded into the spider’s head, partly hidden by the man’s straw cape. A little red light blinked in a steady rhythm above three buttons, which the man was careful not to touch as he rapped his knuckles against it. 

“Renders her absolutely obedient. All natural instinct turned off. See?”

He unsheathed a knife from a holster strapped around his leg and its steel blade shimmered in the sun before he rammed it in one of the spider’s eyes, plopping it out with a nauseating plitch. The spider endured its master’s violation in utter stillness, only its yaws twitched, creating this awful hiss in their never ceasing movement.

 “She’s docile as a lamb.”

“And how exactly is that supposed to work?” the girl inquired, meeting the man’s stare with a calculated cold composure. She ignored the incredulous look the blonde woman gave her, as she mouthed: “Charlotte, what are you doing?”

The intruder's mouth twitched.

“Man, what do I know, Missy?! I’m a mutant hunter not a scientist.” He leaned closer, eyes narrowed, fixed on the girl's deformed face. Venom spiked his words, dripped from his tongue like acid. “My expertise lies in chasing down freaks.”

The condescendingly cruel way in which he spoke, wielding words like a weapon meant to pierce and twist where it hurt most, reminded Gideon oddly of his father. Anger welled up in his chest, buzzed down his legs and made them move. He planted himself right between the girl and the intruder.

How dare he compare someone to mutant scum?!

“Tsk. Mutant hunter?! You’ve ever even seen one? Or are you just talk? Threatening girls?!”

“Gideon.”, Director Sahim hissed, squeezing Gideon’s shoulder in warning as he tried to pull him back. 

The man gave them a wry smile. “No no. Let’s hear him out. Have you ever seen one boy?”

“Yes.” Gideon spat, unable to reign his emotions back in. “They’re hideous monstrosities.  And I’m going to find and kill every single one of them.”

The man burst into violent laughter, shoulders shaking and head thrown back, nearly losing his balance under the force of it.

“You do have guts, I give you that. But also lots to learn. Do you really think a girl can’t be a mutant? Monster’s come in all shapes and sizes, boy.” His eyes wandered back to Charlotte.  “Just ugly, that’s the whole lot of them.`` 

The blonde woman gasped, searching for words to shoot back, but falling silent as she noticed Charlotte’s expression. 

Red blotches burned on her face, rage twisting it into a vicious scowl. The afternoon sun set her copper curls on fire. Ready to spew fury and flames, she opened her mouth but Sahar was faster, his small voice piping up.

“Char- Charlotte is… is no- no mutant and and and she’s neither ugly nor weak. And and and people who talk about, talk about killing others for no- no, no reason are… They’re the- the real monsters.”  

His fingers fiddled with his shorts, tapping and twisting in the dark, worn linen as he stumbled over his words. His big green eyes jumped from the rocky street to the spider’s fangs, lingered on the intruder’s face before landing on Gideon. They narrowed as he all but spat the last words in Gideon’s face.  

“The hell you just said?!” Gideon’s nostrils flared. How dare this little runt run his mouth about things he didn’t know shit about!

Crossing his arms, Sahar forced himself to hold his ground against Gideon’s furious, wide eyed stare.  “You you, you heard me.”

Gideon heart hammered in his throat, pumping liquefied fire through his veins. His hands twitched.

“I give you one chance to take. That. Back.”

The boy’s trembling fingers dug into his forearms, knuckles whitening as he lifted his chin.

 “Never.”

A roar tore from Gideon’s throat as he leapt forward. Rage burned through him like a wildfire, ready to ignite everything his fist would come in contact with.

Beating the selfritousnes out of that stupid stammering farmboy was the only thing that mattered now. Everything else blurred to background noise. Even the stranger on his shitty spider. 

In that frozen second between charge and impact, Sahar’s  feet moved. His body tilted to the side. Dodged Gideon’s blow. Effortlessly. He bounced back. Landed on the first stone step and uncrossed his arms. Ready to defend himself. His fingers had stopped twitching.

That little runt had nerves! 

Gideon broke into a sprint.

“You sure are good at dodging!” He swung his arm back. “Try to handle this!”

Muscles flexing Gideon readied for impact, only for his arm to be janked back. A  large hand had wrapped around his wrist. Stopped him mid punch.  Craning his neck, Gideon stared up into Ansgar’s stern face.

Fuck he’s fast?! 

“Looks like ya still got lots t’ learn about respect ‘n self-discipline, young man.”

Director Sahin sighed, eyes still locked on the intruder, who watched the spectacle with a lazy kind of interest.

Ansgar released Gideon’s hand and turned to Sahar. His grey eyes glistened like ice shards. “Same goes for you. Ya disappointed me, Sahar.”

Sahar blinked up at the man, eyes round and full of disbelief.

“Wh-what- what, what do you, do do do do- what do you  mean?”

“I haven’t trained ya to run off ‘n start mindless fights. I tried to teach ya discipline ‘n how to survive these woods.” Ansgar’s voice did not waver and every word made Sahar shrink into himself. His fingers tapped a hectic distorted rhythm over his leg

The intruder snickered, “someone’s a stuck up,” earning Moira’s venomous glare. 

“But- but I didn’t- he he he he he was, he was the one who-“

“Enough,” Ansgar thundered. “Don’t argue with me. If ya want a beatin’ so bad I’ll give ya one later. And now back t’ the farm. Ya grounded for the week. No fest. No nothin’!”

Sahar crumbled under the man’s anger, head ducked between his shoulders as the first teardrop fell. It trickled down his trembling jaw, painting a glistening path on his warm skin.

Voice reduced to a shaky exhale Sahar nodded,  “yes, sir.”, and stormed up the stairs.

He had just vanished between the thick bushes, when the intruder broke out into a new laughing fit.