#This is a blog post that came out fifteen years ago I think | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mikathemonster · 2 years

Note

Hi there, I hope you have a good day 😊

I was wondering about your prompt list, and I really like the dialogue prompt 2 and situation prompt 4. And if you would be comfortable with writing something based on this I would really appreciate it😊

"wishes on starlight"

author's note: what a combo! this one actually had me stumped for a bit on how to tackle it, so I applaud you for helping me work through my current writer's block. this also gave me a chance to work on my dividers (I made them a little thinner, and so far I like it). also, I'm not sure which character you wanted for this, so I took the liberty of choosing for you :)

based on this prompt post!!

Pairing: Kíli / Gender-Neutral Human Reader

Word Count: 7,367

summary: when trouble came in the form of unexpected guests, you never expected to give your heart away so easily...

content warnings: I pull more background from the book versus the movies in this one for the sake of Beorn (love him but he might be a little OOC), fluff, yearning, mutual pining, angst <333

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

For all your life, the buzz of oversized bees had been nothing but comforting to your ears. A gentle reminder of kinder times. But today your fuzzy friends had been buzzing with curiosity and uncertainty. You had heard it earlier just after the master of the house had left but had paid no mind to it. After all, you had chores to be done around the house.

Soon, Beorn had returned from checking on the bees in his surrounding pastures. He came in with his usual rough countenance, his face worn from the sun and the smell of honey and oak lingering about him. You had heard him come in all the way from the back of the house, his heavy feet making thumps on the hardwood floors. There was no need to greet him; you knew well that the skin-changer liked his loneliness. Thinking back on it, you were surprised he let you stay with him at all when he could have easily given you away or left you in the woods all those years ago. You smiled to yourself as you folded some of the leftover laundry, thinking of the tall man’s kindness.

But your thoughts soon drifted away as more thumps and stomps could be heard, this time coming from the back of the house where the stables were located. Curious, you abandoned your laundry and followed the sound to see some of your friends stamping the ground with a worrying intensity. Their hooves dug into the ground beneath them, and you furrowed your brows in worrying confusion. “Is everything alright, what is it?” You asked them, and it sounded like animal noises turned into talk, for you had come to learn the language of Beorn’s animals in all your time with him. The only language that seemed to escape you was that of his own bear tongue.

“Strangers,” they said. “We saw strangers on the eastern side.” You bit the inside of your cheek, worrying what outsiders could imply for your comfort and home.

“You should go tell him, then,” you said, referring to Beorn. “They may try to wander this way.”

“And if they do?” They asked, their well-groomed hair shining as it caught the light when they stamped their hooves.

“That’s for him to find out,” you said, nodding. After all, he was the master of the house. Your friends were also quick to leave you as they made their way to the entrance of the house to let Beorn know of what they had seen. You sighed to yourself, hoping nothing troublesome would come out of it. But of course, you had to be wrong.

Trouble soon came to your doorstep fifteen-fold as thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and a tall grey wizard joined you all for dinner that night. You yourself hadn’t come out into the dining hall to join them yet, still skeptical of them all. It wasn’t common for a group of this size to be openly wandering in the Wilderland. You wondered about their purpose, and whispered about it with your friends in the back of the house. But this time, you spoke with the greyhounds of the house instead of the horses.

“Y/N, you missed it,” one said with excitement. “They told such a grand story of how they came to find themselves here. Full of adventure, it was!”

“Yes, yes! They’ve been through all kinds of adventures, both scary and jolly,” said another.

“And what did Beorn think of these adventures?” You had asked.

“Why, he loved it!” They said. “He knows not if it was the truth, but it was still a grand story nonetheless!”

“Then I suppose I shall have to see for myself,” you said, and off you went to join the dinner party with a twitch in your skeptical brow. Through the corridors, you found yourself in the dining hall, the light from the fireplace dancing about and casting warm shadows on the walls. For a moment, you were taken aback at the sight of such company. The wooden hall had not seen this many people or even such a gathering as this for quite some time. So long, in fact, that you couldn’t seem to remember your edge you had experienced earlier, your suspicion melting away for a moment as you realized how lovely it seemed to have company.

Who knows for how long you stood there watching, but it was enough for the grey wizard man to notice you, as he raised a brow and asked a question to Beorn after seeing you. Shifting in his chair at the head of the table, Beorn invited you over with a wave of his hand. “Y/N, come feast with us. I was just about to tell them about the woods of this land.”

Reluctantly, you joined him, sitting down on an empty seat that one of your sheep friends brought. Many of the company had already had more than their fair share and then some of food, and you wondered if all dwarves had appetites like this. It wasn’t nearly as much as Beorn ate, nor was it even comparable to say their appetites were rivals, but it still caught your eye nonetheless. Perhaps it was because you had never seen a dwarf, let alone so many at once. “And who is this?” The wizard asked, seated at the other end of the table.

“Why, this is Y/N. They are my groundskeeper,” Beorn said. You gave him a small nod in acknowledgement, thankful for the introduction.

“A groundskeeper, you say?” One of the dwarves asked. He seemed to be the oldest, with a long white beard that certainly rivaled Beorn’s. And won. “I’d think such a job wouldn’t be necessary with all the help you have from your animals.”

Beorn laughed at this as you slowly began to eat, tearing apart a small honey cake that had caught your eye. “And still with all this help, I have need for more. Y/N helps where they can, and I am grateful.”

You smiled, grateful for such words, though it wasn’t the whole story. Indeed, while you did help around the grounds whenever he was away, it was a little more than just that. Twenty years ago, Beorn’s greyhounds had found you at the edges of Mirkwood’s daunting trees, abandoned by your parents who had wandered into the dark forest. On the first day when his greyhounds told him, Beorn didn’t even bother to come see. Humans were dumb creatures, and far more bold and stupid than he. On the second day, he came to look at you; you were crying and whining from lack of food or water, and he felt a bit of pity. But still, he did nothing, leaving you out in the summer sun in the event your parents would return. But on the third day, when no trace of your parents were left, Beorn knew they had most likely succumbed to the forest. It was only then that he took you in and raised you as his equal, feeding you berries and honey and cakes.

“The animals do much for us, and I in return help them,” you clarified, taking a drink of mead. The fermented liquid warmed your throat as it made its way down.

The rest of the night went smoothly, and soon your suspicions were beginning to evaporate as you all grew to enjoy each other’s company, telling stories of your own lives and such. Beorn cared not for the tales of gold and treasure from the dwarves, but you found yourself fascinated by every outlandish detail. Gems that sparkle just like the stars? You had never seen such a thing, and it puzzled you to think of just how much about the world you didn’t know.

You found yourself enjoying the stories of the little hobbit the most, as his tales seemed much more relatable, filled with carrots, flowers, and farming. He was even a bit of a gardener, which prompted you to ask thousands of questions about plants and the like. Indeed, the night went on much like this, filled with chatter and mead and firelight. Soon, Beorn retired early, heading to the back of the house where he could leave without being noticed. He seemed concentrated on something, and you wondered if he was going to check the credibility of how the dwarves had come to your home. But for now, it was just you and the wizard and the hobbit and the dwarves, who soon began to trickle out to the beds the animals had laid out for them as they dozed off.

You found yourself wide awake this night, sleep escaping you as the white beams of the high moon trickled in from the skylights above in the roofing. Many of the animals had gone to bed as well, the normal sounds of paws and hooves pounding on the wooden floors now absent amidst the quiet deafness of the night. You had kept the fire going up until now, as the final embers slowly began their own descent into death. It was nights like this where your mind seemed to conjure the wildest dreams, both in sleep and while you were awake. You imagined jewels like the dwarves had spoken of, glittering white like pure starlight. You wondered if there were jewels of other various colors, too. Did some shimmer like the scales of the fish in the river? Was it possible for them to glow like the sun on a hot summer day? These were the thoughts on your mind as you lay in the slivers of moonlight shining down on the floor.

But these thoughts were soon interrupted as you heard footsteps approaching. It wasn’t Beorn, for surely he was still out. No, these feet were much smaller and more stout as one of the dwarves had come out from his sleep, his eyes bleary in the dark of the night. It was one of the younger ones, the archer who had sat next to Balin. Kíli, you thought, trying to remember his name. “Can I help you?” You said.

“I heard growling coming from outside these walls,” he whispered through sleepiness. “It woke me up.”

“Ah, so he is near,” you said, muttering mostly to yourself. You must have been too accustomed to such noises as to notice them. “It’s nothing dangerous, as long as you don’t go outside.”

“It’s just as the wizard said, then,” he said, coming closer. “Beorn… does he really… I mean, can he really change his skin?”

“All the time,” you nodded. “But he does it most at night, when he can freely wander these lands.”

“Mahal…” he muttered. It seems he hadn’t believed the wizard earlier, but hearing your words seemed to sway him. “And what of you? Are you also like him?”

“Me?” You scoffed, shaking your head. “No, I’m afraid I’m more ordinary in that sense. I am nothing more than a man.”

“You’re nothing ordinary if you’re living in such a fine home as this,” he said, and soon he sat himself near you in the moonlight. You didn’t object. “And why are you awake so late in the night?”

“Ah,” you smiled. “I can’t sleep. It seems your stories at dinner have fed my thoughts too well.”

Now it was his turn to chuckle, and you found yourself smiling at his laugh. “So you dream while awake, then? I imagine that’s quite lovely.”

“Do you dream often?” You asked, curious of dwarves and their habits.

Silence fell over him for a moment as his expression fell. “Not lately. At least, not nice ones. The journey has gotten hold over my dreams, for now all I see are frightening images when I close my eyes.”

You frowned, feeling sympathy for the poor dwarf. “I’m sorry to hear that, I didn’t mean to bring up such scary things.”

He gave a small smile at your words, shaking his head. “Don’t worry; I’ve become too used to it lately. I’m glad the growls woke me up, it helped me break free of such dreams for the night.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, wracking your brain for any thought of how to help this man. “Perhaps,” you said. “Perhaps you can tell me of your more beautiful dreams, then?” You scooted yourself closer to him, his hair shining in the moonlight as his eyes met yours.“Alright then,” he smiled, a rosy glow about him. And so the night went on, as he told you wild dreams of hunting and adventure and even ridiculous ones that seemed like utter nonsense.

The next day, as you were tending the gardens in the front yard, Kíli had seemed to want more of your presence. Whenever he wasn’t in discussion with his kin and peers, he was wandering the grounds and looking for you. It didn’t take him long to find you covered in dirt in the morning sun as you worked to check on your carrot and potato plants. “Good morning,” you said. “Did you manage to get any rest last night?”

“I did, yes,” he said, nodding. “Though I had no dreams.”

“Well,” you rose, dusting the soil off of your knees. “I suppose no dreams are better than bad ones.”

“Agreed,” he said, humming in delight. He quite enjoyed talking to you. “And what of you? Did you sleep well?”

“I never slept,” you said, chuckling. “When we parted ways, I still couldn’t find myself tired. Your tales kept me awake yet again. So here I am, still up and about.”

“You astound me,” he looked at you with a twinkle of awe in his eyes. “I’ve been on the journey for quite some time and even I cannot operate well without sleep.”

You sighed, now stepping out of the plant box as you dusted your feet off in the grass. “While it may be more cozy than your travels, I can assure you I am kept well busy. There’s always much to do around the house, especially when Beorn is away.”

“I see,” he stooped, scratching the back of his head. He wanted to say more, but didn’t know how to do so. For once in a very long while, he was anxious in his conversation.

A quiet breeze silenced the both of you now as you both sat in the slight tension that had been caused, but you were quick to get back to work, fetching the water pail so you could rinse the dirt off of you, not wanting to track it into the house. “Well, is there anything I could help you with?” You asked, noticing he still hadn’t left yet. You didn’t necessarily want him to leave, but you didn’t understand why he would stay, either.

“Oh, right. Well,” he muttered, trying to find himself again. Then he drew a breath, and finally met your gaze. “I wanted to ask you of your dreams.” He smiled, and it seemed to beam brighter than the sun itself, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. It was very lovely to see.

“My dreams?” You repeated, raising a brow. “What of them?”

“Last night,” he said, stepping forward to approach you. “Our conversation about dreams and thoughts, it made me wonder what kinds you have, if you have any of your own.”

“If I ever have my own thoughts?” You scoffed.

“Oh my, no! I meant dreams,” he corrected, very quickly too. He seemed a bit nervous. “I loved our conversation, but it felt one-sided. I wanted to know more about you.”

“You’re so forward, Master Dwarf,” you teased, and finally you stopped fiddling with your clothes and the water. “Well, what would you like to know?” You guided him to the other side of the garden where a large oak tree stood, inviting him to sit with you beneath it.

“I suppose whatever you’d like to tell me,” he smiled. “Starting with your dreams?”

“Ah, my dreams,” you nodded, humming to yourself. “If I’m being honest, I forget many of my dreams. They always escape me quickly when I wake up, you see. But I do remember one distinctly.” You smiled as the memory came to mind, thinking on it fondly. Kíli nodded at this, encouraging you to continue. “It started with me gazing at the sky, something I often like to do, when all of a sudden the stars seemed to come alive, dancing and jumping like rabbits in the sky.”

“Rabbits?” He asked, thoroughly intrigued.

“Indeed,” you answered. “And they were brilliant in color, too! With so many shades of blues and greens I have never seen since then. They seemed to come down from the sky and join me, dancing with me in the grass.”

“Do you think of rabbits when you see the stars now?” He said, a smile on his face as he imagined it for himself.

“No, not as rabbits. I think of friends,” you said, smiling softly. “I like to think each star that twinkles is a friend, whether or not I’ve met them yet.”

“Sounds rather warm and fuzzy,” he chuckled.

“Do you disagree?” You asked, raising a brow.

“No, it’s just,” he thought for a moment before he continued. “I always thought it is a cold light, stars. Distant and far away.”

“Well, sometimes friends are far from reach,” you said, drawing a breath. “But that doesn’t take their warmth away whenever you embrace them, does it?”

He smiled, eyes taking you in for a moment, and this was the first time where you couldn’t read his expression. You flushed, clearing your throat to avoid the tension. You felt so seen, but so much so that it made you nervous.

“I’ve seen the stars dance before, once,“ you said, trying to shift the subject. Something about the way that he looked at you made you feel all warm inside, and you didn’t know why. “Three shots across the sky all at once, passing beyond the moon and the mountain.”

“I saw a fire moon once,” he said, and you turned your head in curiosity, silently begging him to continue. “It rose over the pass near Dunland. Huge. Red and gold, it was. It filled the sky.”

“I saw it too!” You grinned, recognizing now of what he spoke. “It peeked over the mountains right over there.” You pointed to the Misty Mountains, showing him where you had seen it. He grinned, turning to face you.

“It was so bright, there was no need for a torch,” he said, and you nodded in agreement. “Oh, it made the caverns shine. I wish I could show you.”

“Perhaps if our paths meet again, you can,” you said, placing your hand over his. He stared at your gesture for a moment before meeting your eyes again, smiling. He nodded.

“I will. I promise.”

Soon, you were interrupted by two beautiful horses approaching you, and you realized you still hadn’t finished your chores for the day. You quickly rose to your feet, brushing yourself off as you offered him a hand. He took it, and you helped him up. “My apologies, but it seems I must return to my duties.” You explained.

“I understand,” he nodded. “I should return to the others.”

You nodded back in acknowledgement and began to walk away when suddenly he caught your arm in his hand, causing you to turn back to face him with a puzzled look on your face.

“Y/N,” he said. “Will I see you again?”

You thought for a moment, envisioning your schedule in your mind. “I live here, so of course,” you said, and he smiled at this. “Tonight.”

“Perhaps you can show me your friends in the sky, then.” He said, and suddenly that weird warm feeling returned in your cheeks.

You didn’t see many of the dwarves for the rest of the day, save for Ori and Dori who seemed positively captivated by the wildflowers that grew in the lush grass surrounding Beorn’s home. Gandalf soon returned to the house as well, just before sunset, a tip of his hat bidding you a welcome as you smiled in return. It seemed he had been rather busy out all day, following along the bear tracks Beorn and his friends had left.

You soon finished much of your chores, ending them by harvesting the honey from the oversized bees just as the sun changed the sky to brilliant shades of pink and orange. You looked up in awe, taking the moment in for just a second as a gentle breeze blew from the mountains. You wondered if the dwarves knew of any gems that looked like a fiery sunset such as this one. Perhaps you would ask Kíli about it later.

When you returned inside from the back of the house, you noted the lack of Beorn’s presence, wondering if he would return tonight or tomorrow. He must be out still, close to the mountains by now. In his true form, it didn’t take long for him to cover much ground by walking or running. You wondered what he was doing out there, lurking in the night. But nights like these were common in your household, so the thought passed almost as quickly as it had come.

Walking into the home, you noticed everyone had already had their fill of dinner provided by the animals, the smell of honey cakes and cream filling your nostrils as you made your way into the kitchen to feed yourself. You put away some of the honey you had harvested today, crouching down to grab some more food out of the cupboards. Some of your dog friends wandered into the kitchen, sniffing you out as they smiled. “Oh, you’re back!” They called.

“Yes, and hungry too,” another remarked.

You chuckled, sitting on the floor as you ate your fill. “And what have you all done today?”

“We’ve been waiting on the guests,” they said. “Just as Beorn said.”

“They speak of the strangest places!” Another said. “Full of caves and gems!”

“Have you enjoyed their stories?” You asked, munching on your meal.

“Of course,” they said. “Though their songs make me drowsy.”

“Songs? What songs?” You raised a brow, tilting your head a little. But your friends wouldn’t have the chance to answer, for soon a strange humming sound filled the air. This sound caught all of your attention, for soon you rose to creep over into the main hall where everyone sat, the taste of honey on your tongue as the hums of dwarves morphed into song.

The wind was on the withered heath, but in the forest stirred no leaf: there shadows lay by night and day, and dark things silent crept beneath.

The wind came down from mountains cold, and like a tide it roared and rolled; the branches groaned, the forest moaned, and leaves were laid upon the mould.

The wind went on from West to East; all movement in the forest ceased, but shrill and harsh across the marsh its whistling voices were released.

You found yourself entranced by their deep voices as they seemed to boom and echo in the great wooden halls. The fire flickered below the mantle, casting an eerie glow around the room as the shadows of the dwarves danced around you. Thorin and Bofur and Dwalin’s voices were especially recognizable as they stood out the most, their deep and velvety timbres reigning over the voices and hums of the others as the fire crackled in its place. For a moment, you felt as though you could feel the wind they spoke of, their song coming to life in your mind as you imagined the pictures they described. It must have been the same for them as well, for none of them noticed you as you came into the room, too lost in the memory of their melody as they sang.

The grasses hissed, their tassels bent, the reeds were rattling—on it went o’er shaken pool under heavens cool where racing clouds were torn and rent.

It passed the lonely Mountain bare and swept above the dragon’s lair: there black and dark lay boulders stark and flying smoke was in the air.

It left the world and took its flight over the wide seas of the night. The moon set sail upon the gale, and stars were fanned to leaping light.

As the song came to a close, you couldn’t help but feel so deeply sorrowful, as if a part of you too had lost something just as they had. The feeling of the winds around you died down, if they were ever there to begin with, and a smoky aroma filled the air as more embers burned brightly and wildly in the fireplace. A single tear ran down your cheek, but you were quick to wipe it away, not wanting to cause a scene. You now had a whole new view of these guests in your home, guests who didn’t have a home of their own.

After dwelling in the moment for a little while longer, Gandalf stood up, bidding that all the dwarves and the lone hobbit should get some rest for the night. He warned them once again to not wander outside during the night, just as Beorn had warned them before. You noticed at the other end of the hall, some of Beorn’s animals were returning from setting up beds for the guests, and you were suddenly reminded that you had left the food out in the kitchen. Now finally brought out of your reverie, you returned to your meal. But you were no longer hungry after hearing such a sad tale and song, and so you found yourself putting the food away, leaving the scraps out for your sheep friends as some of them passed by, heading to the pastures.

By the time you returned to the great hall, many of the dwarves were busy getting comfortable in their beds, save for Kíli, who sat on a bench in front of the fireplace as he watched the sparks dance among the wood and smoke. He looked so tiny in comparison to the bench, it made you smile as you joined him.

His eyes lit up as he saw you sit down, a smile gracing his features. “You’re here,” he said.

“Am I not supposed to be here?” You questioned. “I live here, you know.”

“Of course,” he laughed. “But I haven’t seen you since this morning.”

“I was busy,” you explained. “I just finished eating in the kitchen.”

“Oh, I see,” he said. “So you heard us?”

You nodded, looking into the fire for a moment, watching the flames dance. “I did. It’s amazing, the way you tell stories. Beorn doesn’t sing, he doesn’t care for it.”

“For us, well, we do it often when longing in the night,” he said. A wistful expression decorated his face as he also turned to look into the flames. Though a smile lingered on his face, it was once again harder to read.

“And what do you long for, Kíli?” You asked, your eyes taking in his features as that weird and warm feeling returned. You liked being close to him. He felt safe. He drew in a breath, seeming to be overwhelmed by the question as he searched his mind for an answer.

“Home,” he spoke. “I long to help my kin reclaim their home. I long for my mother to return to her home. And for myself, I long to find my own meaning of the word.”

“That’s very admirable,” you said. “Your mother, is she far from you?”

“Aye,” he said. “It was tough, having to leave her and join this company. She almost didn’t let me or my brother go. She thinks I’m too reckless.”

You chuckle. “And are you?”

“Nah,” he smiled, teasingly pushing your shoulder with his own, and the contact brought that warm feeling to your face. “And what of you? What do you long for, Y/N?”

You drew a breath, trying not to dwell on how you loved the way he said your name. It was safe to say he was already your favorite guest in your home. “It may sound silly, but ever since you all spoke of gems, I’ve longed to see one. I wonder if they look like stars.”

“Some do,” he said, and your eyes lit up. All your attention was on him. Nothing else existed in this moment, save for the moon and the fire kindling below the mantle. “Some even glow like the moon. But my favorites are the ones as deep as the sky. Oh, I wish I could show you one.”

“A shame, truly.” You sighed.

“But perhaps,” he said, taking your hand in his, and you felt yourself flush at the contact. “Perhaps we can look at the stars and pretend they are gems. And once my kin have reclaimed the mountain and our treasure, I’ll return and bring you jewels as bright as fire and as deep as water.”

“That sounds lovely,” you smiled, warmth spreading to your cheeks. “You would do that?”

“If it means seeing you again, then I wouldn’t think twice,” he said. You lost your breath for a moment, finding yourself awestruck.

“But it’s so late in the night for watching stars. Shouldn’t you rest?” You lightly squeezed his hand.

“I can lie awake a moment longer, if it’s with you.” He spoke so earnestly and so easily, as if the words had always existed in his mind, and you suddenly felt so many confusing feelings all at once. You had only just met this man, but already could see that you would miss him dearly when it would come time for him to leave. That warm and fuzzy feeling was growing quite strong the more he spoke.

You stood up, letting the fire die on its own as you took his hand in yours, guiding him up. You trusted him enough for this. “Come, let me show you my favorite place.”

Leading him behind you, you brought him to yours and Beorn’s shared room, which glowed with the pale moonlight that filtered in from another skylight as the light shown on your bed. You sat yourself down on it, inviting him to join you as you pointed up at the moon that showed through the roof. “It always looks the most beautiful here, when I come to sleep. I dream of it often.”

He sat next to you, leaning awfully close as he met where you pointed up at the sky. But you didn’t mind. “I can see why this is your favorite place. The view is gorgeous.”

“Isn’t it? It’s even more beautiful during a sunset,” you whispered, excited to have shared this space with a stranger. “All the colors of the sky can be seen, bright oranges and pinks and sometimes even purple.”

Kíli’s eyes beamed as they took in your beauty, a warm smile growing on his face. You wouldn’t be aware, but he hadn’t been speaking of the moon just then, as his gaze lay transfixed on you.

“Well, I’m here to see the stars. So, show me your favorite rabbits,” he said, and you laughed.

“I told you, I don’t think of them as rabbits,” you corrected, and soon found yourself pointing out various constellations you had come up with yourself. You pointed out each of your favorite stars in the seasonal sky as the moon waned on, which soon prompted Kíli to speak of the constellations of his own people. You listened eagerly, the difference in your lives leaving you to look at him in awe. You two came from worlds apart, and yet here you both were. It was a comforting thought, and soon you found yourself falling asleep to the sound of his soft voice as the both of you lay on your bed looking at the moon.

The next day, you awoke late in the day and alone in your bed, the sound of haughty laughter and cheers in the great hall stirring you awake. Only one person could make such a deep laugh; Beorn must finally be home. A part of you felt upset when you awoke to find Kíli gone, wondering if it had all been a dream, but you were much too excited to see Beorn again that you pushed those thoughts away.

You walked into the great hall to see a wonderful sight of laughter and joy and stories being told as Beorn told the others where he had been over honey and bread and cream. Even your animal friends were all listening, or at least those that could fit in the house. He sat tall and proud at the head of his wooden table as he recounted to the dwarves where he had been for the past two days. You were quick to join them at the table, seating yourself at the end next to Nori as you silently fed yourself on the food placed in front of everyone.

Soon, everyone began enthralled in conversation, with Gandalf and Thorin and Beorn quietly talking amongst themselves of what the rest of their journey would entail. You couldn’t hear much, save for the bits and pieces of Beorn saying he would offer some of his ponies and food to them on their journey, at least until they would make it to Mirkwood. And suddenly you found yourself dwelling in sadness as you realized that everyone, Kíli included, would be leaving soon. It felt like an ache in your chest, though you knew not what it meant. All you knew was that you weren’t ready to see him go just yet.

Silently excusing yourself, you left the great hall and headed through the back door to the stables, needing some fresh air for yourself as you mulled over your feelings and thoughts. None of your horse friends were in the stables, as they were all much too busy grazing in the pastures surrounding your home. And so, seated in the hay in the shade, you pondered to yourself.

You barely knew Kíli, and yet you knew his absence would leave you hurt. Every time he looked at you, you found yourself growing warm and fuzzy and flustered. You had no idea what it meant, but you felt as though being without his smile would be like being without the sun: forever overcast and cloudy.

But soon, you found yourself no longer alone as the harrowing height of Beorn joined you in the stables, as he came in scratching his beard when he found you upon the hay. “The horses, where have they gone?” He asked.

“Out for a run,” you answered, your voice soft against the wind as the cool breeze passed through the wood of the stable, whispering in the blades of grass between you two.

“And why do you take their place?” He said, his voice deep and coated in honey and cream.

“I came to breathe,” you said, running a hand through your hair. “But the more I think about it, the less I can feel the air in my lungs.”

“Do you speak of the dwarf?” He asked, and suddenly your eyes widened. How did he know? But he was quick to answer your unspoken question, for he knew you well and could read the question from your face. “I saw him in your bed this morning when I returned.”

“You’re not upset?” You asked, genuinely curious of what he thought of your and Kíli’s relationship.

“I win nothing by pretending to care,” he said. “Besides, he is not my business. He is yours.” A breath of understanding left your lips as he spoke, some of the tension leaving your body. With a smooth movement, he joined you in the hay, his huge body making you feel small as you joined the shadows and the shade of the stables. And yet, you knew you were safe. “Tell me. What worries you?”

You drew a breath which left your lips as a sigh, all of your troubled emotions returning to the front of your mind as you tried to figure out how you would word your worries to Beorn. You knew you had to tell him, there was no point in hiding it. “I do not wish for him to go.” You said.

“But you know he cannot stay,” Beorn warned. “It’s not in his will.”

“I know,” you nodded. “And I know that I cannot join him.” You hesitated, thinking before you continued. “And yet, I worry that even the stars won’t shine the same if he is not with me to enjoy their beauty.”

“Does he know this?” Beorn asked.

“No,” you answered. “I haven’t had the heart to tell him, though in truth I only just recently realized such things.”

“You must tell him,” Beorn said.

“But how can I be sure that he feels the same?” You frowned.

“He shared your bed, Y/N. He shared your stars,” he said. “I’m sure he too shares your heart.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, mulling it over for yourself. There was a chance you would never see him again, so of course you knew you had to tell him. You looked up at Beorn, giving him a grateful nod. “Thank you, Beorn.”

“Thank me when he is gone, after you have told him.” He said, a gruff voice through the soft wind.

It was night now, and everyone was fast asleep. Once again, you found yourself restless and yearning for the guidance of the moon as she shimmered through the skylight. Finding the dwarves busy with their journey’s preparations for the remainder of the day, you hadn’t had the chance to get a hold of Kíli’s attention much at all. But you knew it was important, and so you decided against interrupting, hoping he’d stay up to meet you like he had for the past few nights.

Your heart skipped a beat when he did, glad you had placed your bets on him as he quietly made his way over to you, a smile on his face when you looked up at him. You patted the moonlit floor next to you, inviting him into your space as you couldn’t help but return his smile. The warm and fuzzy feeling returned, but you worried about whether it would last after tonight’s intended conversation.

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” he said. “You’ve been on my mind all day.”

“I have?” You asked, slightly surprised when he nodded his head.

“Yes,” he said. “And for that, I’m glad the moon has kept you here.”

You smiled, taking his hand into yours. “Kíli, I…” you couldn’t find yourself to say it out loud, feeling anxious. You drew a breath, pushing onward. “I’ll miss you.” There was no point in saying you wished he could stay or anything of the sort; you knew he had to do this, you knew he had to leave you, and you knew he had to take this journey. It was in his blood, it was who he was. But oh, you wished you could have more time. Just a few minutes more to learn more of who he was, and what he could be to you. You could already feel the ache burning in your chest.

His smile fell slightly, now tinged with sadness of his own as he nodded. “We leave early tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “Thorin is eager to get back on the road.”

“And yourself?” You asked, baiting your breath.

“My spirit is with him,” he explained. “But I’m afraid my heart lies in other places.”

“Such as where?” You asked.

“In the stars,” he answered, looking to the sky before returning your gaze. “In the moonlight.”

“The moonlight?” You said.

“My heart lies with you, amrâlimê,” he said, his voice soft as he spoke his native tongue.

“What does that mean?” You asked, drawing a breath.

“It means that when I travel far from this place and look up into the night sky, rabbits will follow me,” he answered, inching closer. “For each time I gaze at the stars and see the moon full of light, I shall think of you, if you permit it.”

You exhaled, tears coming to your eyes as the meaning of his words sunk in. So he did feel the same! Words escaped you, but you eagerly nodded, your hand rising to cup his face as you eagerly leaned in to place a chaste kiss upon his lips. He returned with one of his own, learning in and letting your foreheads rest against each other. You couldn’t help the tears that fell, both mingled with the emotions of relief and joy and sorrow and worry. “Yes, I permit it.”

“I’m glad,” he smiled. “Though even if you had said no, my mind would be filled with thoughts of you still.”

You laughed at this, smiling through your tears as you looked into his deep brown eyes. “I wish I could go with you,” you breathed.

He shook his head. “Soon, I promise. When the gates of my fathers are reopened for all, I promise I will return to take you with me. I’ll show you everything, from the caverns to the gems to the great feasts of my kin.”

“I would want nothing more,” you said. And soon a silence fell over you two as you both realized this was the last night you would have to spend together for a considerable time. You would both be far from one another, and it was a painful thought. And though you were already crying, you didn’t want this last moment together to be one of sadness. “We shall have the stars, then. The stars shall be our gems until we can reunite.”

“I promise I will return,” he said solemnly. “And when I do, I want to know everything about you. Even the parts hidden away from anyone.”

“It would be hard to hide them from someone as nosy as you,” you joked, and his laugh brought a smile to your face. And for a while you two sat together like this, looking upon the stars with a newfound fondness.

The next day, the final day, happened all too quickly. By the time you awoke, breakfast was quickly eaten and provisions were eagerly packed away on the ponies Beorn had promised to offer to the company of Thorin Oakenshield. With sad eyes, you watched as your newfound lover rode away from your home, heading to the treacherous Mirkwood forest as he disappeared on the horizon of the Wilderlands. It was one of the rare days where none of your friends spoke to you for the remainder of the sun’s light, warned by Beorn to give you space.

The first month without him was much sadder than you thought it would be, but you soon found strength at night whenever you would gaze upon the stars. The second month was almost completely back to normal for you, and by the third month you were already back on your feet and quite well for yourself.

Six months came and no word followed. You had already been worried by now, and even Beorn had no answers for you when it came to why Kíli had not yet returned. You tried your best to find strength in the moonlight, but it was all you had as of late, and your faith was wearing thin.

A total of eight months later, the wizard returned, but it was no merry visit. He told you of the reclaiming of Erebor, the battle of the five great armies, and soon you realized all too quickly why Kíli hadn’t returned. That was the last time you saw the wizard, for by the time he ever visited again, you had left Beorn and your friends to wander into the world on your own, hoping by some miracle that you could journey far enough from the heartache and ruin that you now lived by.

For Kíli could not return to you, nor would he ever again.

#kili x reader #kili fanfic #kili durin #kili #kili x y/n #kili / reader #kili / y/n #lotr #lotr x reader #lotr fanffic #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #The Hobbit fic #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit

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rockinlibrarian · 7 months

Note

For the author asks: 4, 12, 18

Author Asks! Now showing at a Tumblr Blog Near You!

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Well, now you've gone and reminded me that I have like thirty comments from Yuletide to respond to still. The answer SHOULD be a resounding Yes, but that one got me so many good comments in a row that I couldn't keep up, and then I forgot to go back!

But in ordinary circumstances, absolutely. You have given me an excuse to talk further about my story! Or at the very least, you have brought me a smile and I just want to say Thank You! The other day someone responded to a comment I'd left on their fic over a year ago, and I loved it-- I'd forgotten all about that comment, and that fic, and I got to experience it anew, and their reply that they'd looked at my comment "many times" added a sweetness that wouldn't have come from an immediate response, anyway!

So now I should go finish the comments on Jason and Chidi. Except I have to go to work in 20 minutes so maybe I'll put it off and forget about it again.

12. Have you co-written a fic?

The closest I've ever gotten on an official fic is "The Magic Man of Oz," which was brainstormed on a Discord server and I just ran with the results. I feel like I've cowritten stories-- not necessarily fanfics-- with friends before when I was a teenager, but the only one I can remember was when my cousin and I were passing a notebook back and forth each adding a sentence to a story that was about a homicidal guinea pig. Not a guinea pig. Some kind of large roundish rodent.

I remember reading Sorcery and Cecilia and writing a letter to another writer friend, "Check this book out, they wrote it by each taking a character and writing letters to each other in character, wouldn't that be fun?" but neither of us actually decided to ACT on the suggestion...!

18. What's the first fandom you wrote for?

Hmm. That's like asking me what my first Diana Wynne Jones book was. No, that's an even longer story, fanfic is simpler.

Somewhere back like fifteen years ago, when I was spending the majority of my online time on LiveJournal, I was puzzled at myself for apparently never having written fanfic. But it's exactly the sort of thing I'd DO! But like with Diana Wynne Jones books, I discovered I was wrong, when I picked up my old Junior Girl Scouts badge book and a scene from Ducktales fell out, apparently in response to a writing badge assignment to write a piece of fanfiction. I had had no memory of this writing experience!

In my pulling a daily writing prompt period, "The Pipeweed Mafia Epic" technically came first, but I don't think I clocked it as fanfic because it was Real Person Fic. The first one I had the concept in my head of "Oh, this is FANFIC" was for a DIFFERENT prompt that made me go, "Sounds like an X-Files plot. OH, okay, guess I'm writing X-Files fic!" I eventually shared it here! It's crack. X-Files crack. You should read it.

I messed around with some more random fanfics (one of which I eventually posted, a few more of which I may finish someday-- I'm very fond of my how-Wash-and-Zoe-Washburn-fell-in-love story and WANT to finish it eventually) in the intervening time, but of course it was Legion I got an AO3 account for. And is still my most-written fandom! Because SOMEBODY'S got to write Loudermilk Twin stories so it might as well be me!

Hmm, my "You should start getting ready for work" alarm didn't go off, so now I should REALLY start getting ready for work.

#ask game #writing #fanfic

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divkazkdovikde · 1 year

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it’s so funny that five/six/seven years ago (idk how long i have this blog), when i was new on tumbrl and then the few years after, my posts were so dramatic and this blog was basically my diary and then look at my blog now

and honestly, me back then? i was as if from that tiktok sound, yk the one “you don’t have to. i can fucking feel it” yeah, that was me until like three or so years ago, and then me nowadays, looking at those old posts is like “oh she needs a fucking exorcism”

and it’s absolutely hillarious to me, because even tho i’m still as depressed and miserable as i was back then, if not more, now my blog turned mainly into fangirling over marauders

but i have to hand down to my teenage self, that some of the posts were really deep and i can’t believe i was able to put words together like that, when i was like fucking fifteen years old. because looking at it now, drowning in all this shit i’m not-so-dealing with, it really wasn’t that deep back then for the posts to be on that level.

i sometimes feel like i was more mature back then. or maybe maturing is realising it’s easier to just give up crying and being pathetic about it, cuz that’s not gonna help. (lol i still cry and am pathetic but like in a different way yk, in more mature way.)also i’m not gonna lie, marauders fandom really saved my life, so i’m glad i’m where i am. because even though, it’s really shit sometimes, now i’m enjoying the good days and moments as much as i hate those bad ones, and i’m not wallowing in self pity that much now, and i’m learning how to ask for help. it’s as much better now as it’s worse. does that make sense? it does to me.

anyway live love laugh dead gay wizzards.

and let’s leave my old self burried in history, i like this older version of myself better.

(also i kinda pity my old followers, those who started to follow me because of those deep posts, because i bet now when you see some of my fanart and stuff reblogs you sure as fuck are like “where the hell did that came from” yeah, from me, girl grew up a little, she found out that happiness from fictional characters is better than to be that much dramatic. don’t worry, i still can be dramatic, but i use it for freaking out over fanfictions and fanarts now, i think that has to be at least a little bit more healthy, no?)

#i probably make no fucking sense #but its past midnight and i havent have a proper sleep in a week and half #so dont come at me #my brain is a mess #and i tend to talk absolute rubbish sometimes #marauders #wolfstar #saved my life #dead gay wizards #deep thoughts #talkin talkin #my blog #tumbrl #q

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timetravelauthor · 2 years

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Writer’s block revisited

Of all the tools and techniques I employ as a writer, it is the one I use the most. When I experience writer's block, I take a walk.

I did it just this morning. Faced with solving a plot hole in Annie's Apple, my current work in progress, I took a walk, cleared my mind, and came up with a fix. I did what I couldn't do sitting still.

Others favor different approaches. As I noted in a blog post eight years ago, the web is full of suggestions. Purdue University Global offers seven, including some that are rooted in common sense. Like other online sources, it urges writers to declutter their workspaces, develop good habits, and write in manageable chunks.

More advice can be found at SmartBlogger, The Writer, Writer's Digest, Writers.com, Inc. Magazine, and other sites. SmartBlogger encourages writers to "talk to an imaginary friend," "curse like a sailor," "chug some caffeine," "browse your photo albums," and "wash the dishes." (My wife would like the last suggestion.)

I still prefer walking. When I am out and about, I can focus, solve problems, and sometimes create. I can do the things I often cannot do while staring at a blank page on a computer screen.

More often than not, I will think of more ideas and remedies than I can track in my mind. Even on a walk of fifteen to twenty minutes, I will resort to taking notes on my phone or on a small notepad.

Most writers, of course, know all about the importance of taking notes. They know that inspiration does not always strike at convenient times or places. They become proficient at recording even minor and seemingly unimportant details for future use.

So the next time the words don't come, take a walk with a notepad. Get outdoors and away from household distractions. You may find that writer's block is little more than a temporary affliction.

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cowherderess · 2 years

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I posted 848 times in 2022

43 posts created (5%)

805 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@dollsome-does-tumblr

@allthingseurope

@thatsrightjohngoodman

@jakeperalta

@ohtendril

I tagged 835 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#queue - 187 posts

#i want to go to there - 87 posts

#tv: ted lasso - 79 posts

#rebecca x ted - 41 posts

#the nanny - 40 posts

#art - 35 posts

#photography - 34 posts

#rebecca welton - 28 posts

#about me - 28 posts

#wordle and variations - 27 posts

Longest Tag: 132 characters

#(altho i don’t really believe that luke wouldn’t get a valentines gift for lorelai!! when gift-giving seems to be his love language)

My Top Posts in 2022:

you’re gonna be alright, chapter 6

“You know,” he went on, “I’m glad I caught ya. I came up to your office yesterday, actually, but Yasmina told me you weren’t here.”

“I wasn’t,” she agreed.

There was an awkward pause, as he clearly expected her to elaborate, and she didn’t. She hung up her coat and bag, took out her laptop, and went to her desk.

“Well,” he tried to recover, “hope everything’s okay. Anyway, I brought you a little something.” He dropped his backpack onto the chair, and rummaged through it for what turned out to be a little pink box.

Well, that was odd. “Oh–”

“Yeah! Cookies. Or as y’all call them here, biscuits, right? Though I do not recommend you smother these in gravy.” He held out the box, his face alit with the same eager anticipation with which he’d awaited her punchline downstairs.

“Ted, I don’t really–”

She was a little relieved when he kept talking, because she wasn’t quite sure where she’d been going with that. I don’t really–

–eat sugar? That was true, or had been. But she didn’t want to get into that.

–want one? That wasn’t true, unfortunately; the biscuits’ buttery scent wafted enticingly through the box.

–think that’s appropriate? No, it wasn’t, because she was his employer. They weren’t friends. Rosie at her old office had liked to bake, but Rosie brought in her desserts for everyone to share. (Was that really fifteen years ago? God.)

“Come on now.” He opened the box to reveal three pieces of shortbread, pale gold and sparkling with sugar. “Take a lookie there.”

“Those do look good,” she had to admit.

4 notes - Posted March 16, 2022

WIP title tag game

Thanks for tagging me @thatsrightjohngoodman !

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have wips.

(This is just my Ted Lasso folder, since although I do technically have unfinished works for other fandoms, I don’t know when I’ll ever get back to them)

felice di stare lassù

i was lost for you to find

love and laughter and peace ever after

a most rare vision

the other side of someday

you’re gonna be alright

Tagging: @dangermaureenrobinson @itsagutthing @broadwaybaggins @heavyuponmyskin @carebohe and anyone else who’d like to do it!

6 notes - Posted April 13, 2022

you’re gonna be alright Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Ted Lasso (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ted Lasso/Rebecca Welton Characters: Rebecca Welton, OC: Oliver Mannion, OC: Amy Mannion, Rupert Mannion, Leslie Higgins, Julie Higgins (Ted Lasso), Bex (Ted Lasso), Ted Lasso Additional Tags: tw: emotional abuse Series: Part 1 of Young Mannion Summary: AU - How Rebecca's divorce, her subsequent feelings about Rupert, and her relationship with Ted might have developed if she and Rupert had children.

Snippet of Chapter 5:

The first day of the new year was also the first day that she would go to the club as its owner.

That morning, she was dressed but not ready. She stepped in front of her mirror in a tight dress and tall heels that had felt thrilling when she had first tried them on, but now felt only overwhelming, as she had to consider actually leaving the house in them.

She smoothed her hands down her skirt, and turned around, to her daughter who sat cross-legged on her bed. “What do you think?”

Amy tilted her head, appraising. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear high heels before.”

“You haven’t.” She stepped out of those shoes, intending to go back to her closet and find–

“No, keep them! I like them.” Amy scooted off the bed and came to stand beside her, stretching up onto her tiptoes. “D’you think I’ll be tall like you when I grow up? Right now I’m the median height in my class. We all measured ourselves, for an activity for maths.” She fell back to flat-foot, but immediately tried again. “I think it’d be fun to be tall. I am taller than Alfie which is good because he’s very annoying. He’s the one who told me that blue couldn’t be my favorite color cos it’s a 'boy color.'” She rolled her eyes. “Boys.”

Rebecca laughed, and held onto Amy’s shoulder as she stepped back into her heels, rather pleased with herself that her daughter seemed not to have learned the same shame that her own ladylike mother had ingrained in her as a gangly girl.

“Your father’s tall too, so it’s quite possible you will be, one day. And,” she added with fervor, “don’t ever let the Alfies of the world tell you that’s a bad thing.” She pulled her into a side hug. “Now I suppose I should go! But I’ll be home before dinner, alright?”

“Alright.” Amy nodded. “Good luck on your first day!”

Her daughter’s little face was so earnest, and deep down she felt a flicker of doubt about her plan. But she willed it away.

Read the rest at AO3.

6 notes - Posted February 6, 2022

Tagged by @itsagutthing, thank you! 💜

+ Last song: “Orpheus” by Sara Bareilles (I always love her, but Into the Woods reminded me just how much I do, and I’ve had my whole Sara B playlist on repeat)

+ Last movie: Knocked Up. My sister and I had stumbled upon This Is 40 the night before, and surprisingly liked it. Knocked Up (which we watched because it has some of the same characters), however, is more like what I’d thought Judd Apatow movies were– not my taste.

+ Currently watching: Call the Midwife and Girls5eva!

+ Currently reading: According to Goodreads I’m “currently reading” four books, which actually means that I haven’t read more than a page of anything in ages :( Work has been exhausting lately. But when I can focus again, I hope to return to:

Frankenstein in Baghdad

Red Fortress: History and Illusion in the Kremlin

Wondrous Journeys in Strange Lands

Halcyon Journey: In Search of the Belted Kingfisher

Tag 9 people you want to get to know better (no pressure!): @broadwaybaggins @thatsrightjohngoodman @freetobegrace @ohtendril @imlorelai @amillionmillionvoices @thesumdancekid @jakeperalta @odakota-rose

8 notes - Posted May 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

tagged by: @itsagutthing 💛

last song: I’ve been very into “My Best Friend’s Weddings” by the Chicks this month (my top track on spotify). the song i literally just listened to was “Donal agus Morag” by Altan (I just watched the ep of Derry Girls where they encounter an Irish speaker and it inspired me to listen to my Irish playlist. I have, intermittently, over the years, attempted to learn Irish myself)

last show/series: Gilmore Girls rewatch

currently watching: Derry Girls season 3, and I’m catching up on Abbott Elementary. (edit: And Bake-Off! I forgot!)

favorite color: pink

sweet, spicy, or savory: i’ve got a terrible sweet tooth

currently reading: I just finished Clanlands by Sam Heughan and Graham McTavish, who co-star on Outlander–– it’s a travelogue about a trip they took around Scotland together. I found them a bit annoying as people sometimes, but their love of Scotland and its history got me through. My heart’s in the Highlands, wherever I go.

what i'm working on: I have an ongoing multichap for Ted Lasso which I hope to finish before season 3 (since i started it before season 2, ha ha... multichaps were a mistake) and also a ficlet for the Halloween 1p4a

currently obsessed with: Ted Lasso, of course. Also, watching how the leaves are changing each day on the route I walk to work.

tagging: @broadwaybaggins @coachlasso @carebohe @dollsome-does-tumblr @jakeperalta @ohtendril @dee-thequeenbee @avasrhodes or anyone who wants to!

8 notes - Posted October 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#still mad about Vineyard Valentine in the year of our lord 2022 lol #(some parts of it anyway)#my tumblr 2022 year in review

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af-amer-112a-emilyartenyan · 11 months

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Blog Post #1

The first time I watched Jordan Peele’s, Get Out, was when it first came out. It was sometime in 2017 when I was in high school, and it was my first time watching a rated R movie in the movie theater. I had gone with my best friend, not knowing what Get Out was about, but knowing that I was excited. I had not even watched so much as a trailer for the movie, so I went into it blind. I remember hearing Childish Gambino in the soundtrack and just thinking the overall movie was so cool. Rose Armitage, the female lead in the movie, had me completely fooled. I remember feeling so bamboozled and overall flabbergasted at what was truly going on. I remember feeling so unsettled when Andre yelled at Chris to “get out” while he could when Chris’s camera flashed. The whole thing was baffling to me. It was so well done. The second time I watched this movie was 6 years later, about a week ago for my AF AMER 112A class. Watching this movie for the second time as a senior in college compared to when I was a high school student allowed for me to notice things and analyze the movie in a deeper and more critical fashion than before. For example, something I realized upon watching the movie for the second time was that Andre was probably wearing a fedora for every scene that he was in to hide the scar from the surgery where the white man’s brain was transplanted into his. Speaking of Andre, I remember how the first time I watched the movie, he was abducted in the first scene while the soundtrack was an eerie song playing with the lyrics, “Run rabbit, run rabbit, run run run.” I did not realize that was the same Andre that yelled at Chris to “get out” later on! It was such a great foreshadowing factor that I had not noticed before. On the other hand, something that was more obvious to me when I was fifteen was when Rose was eating cereal and she had the glass of milk separated from the colorful cereal, alluding to segregation. Now that I am more educated societal issues and the horrors of racism in America and American history, it is so much more meaningful and eye-opening to watch these films in an analytical lens and explore these topics in African American film history.

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tc-doherty · 2 years

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Writing Repost

Years ago I had a writing blog as a side blog, but that was so inconvenient that I ended up making this and starting over. I just wanted to post some of the random things that I’ve put up there over the years but don't have anywhere else so I don't lose them entirely when I delete that blog.

A long post because rather than spamming you with a bunch of things all at once I’m dumping them all here lol

The Witch Queen - this was world building for a magical girl story idea that I had that I haven't done anything with since

It is said that the Witch-Queen came down to this cursed land from the heavens to cleanse it, but it is also said that she was exiled from a distant land across the sea and could simply run no further

It is said that the Witch-Queen used her own life to carve a protected city out of darkness, but it is also said that she ruled for hundreds of years

She had two daughters, one as fair as day and the other dark as night

It is said that they were inseparable and never argued, but it is also said that they couldn’t stand the sight of one another

It is said that the Witch-Queen created protectors for her daughters out of distilled starlight, but it is also said that she sacrificed ten innocent girls and filled them with light until it burned out everything unique about them

Of the fair daughter it is said that she was a kind-hearted force for justice, or a brilliant, fanatical tyrant

Of the dark daughter it is said that she was a black-hearted sorceress, or a gentle, caring healer-witch

When the Witch-Queen died, the city fell to chaos and civil war

It is said that she did not specify an heir, or that she wished both her daughters to rule together

One way or another, there could only be one Queen

The walls fell down and darkness flooded the city, a city too wrapped up in civil war to notice the enemy at the gate

That is how we ended up here, a city with no Queen and no safety

But it is said that the princesses will be born again, along with their knights

They will cleanse the city and raise the walls, chase out darkness and kill the monsters

And, eventually, one of them will claim the throne

Or so it is said.

Two pieces about Piper and Sunehri, some mages from a story that never went anywhere

One

Piper Flynn knew one thing, and that was that she had loved Sunehri at first sight.

She had come to the school broken and hurting. Everyone did, at first. Magic always woke first in times of stress, bursting out to ruin everything it could touch. Fire magic was even worse than most. It was up to the mage’s council to collect those broken children and offer them a safe place to learn control.

At first Piper assumed they were meant to heal there. It wasn’t until later that they were meant to be soldiers, and no one paid much mind to whether they had healed or not.

Even if Piper had known that then, it wouldn’t have made a difference. In the weeks that had passed since her magic appeared, she had withdrawn into herself more and more, and now scarcely paid attention to her surroundings.

At least until Sunehri showed up.

Piper was sitting on a wooden bench to the side of a door that led to…somewhere. An office? A meeting chamber? Something to do with the council. Later, she would remember thinking it strange that they made such a big fuss about her, and still left her to wait for a meeting.

But because of that, she met Sunehri. Granted, they would have met anyway. The school wasn’t that large. But she knew without thinking about it that it would have been the wrong time to meet. The right time was there, on the bench, with Sunehri walking down the hallway to one of her classrooms.

She was fifteen then, a year older than Piper, but she was already poised and polished. She held herself like a lady, not a mage. Every hair was in its place, her skirts and jewelry fell just so, and her makeup was perfect.

Sunehri didn’t stop, didn’t even speak. But their eyes met, and she faltered a little, stayed a second longer than she should have.

Piper should have spoken, but she was struck dumb, as if hit by a thunderbolt, and all she could do was watch as the other girl shook her head and walked on.

Piper’s felt like her blood had turned to honey, her heart to flowers, and her stomach to a hive of bees. For the first time in weeks, she smiled.

Two

“Even after everything, you’re still here.” The voice was clipped, emotionless. Sunehri herself looked much the same. She’d cut her hair and put it up into one of those styles she made look so effortless. Her dress, deep emerald embroidered with gold, fell perfectly around her without a wrinkle.

In the next room, the council met, discussing what to do with her. Whether to jail her, execute her, strip her of her magic, and still Sunehri sat as if she were waiting to get into the theater.

“Yeah,” Piper said.

“I don’t understand.”

Piper sat down on the wooden bench next to Sunehri. There was always more going on than the dark mage would ever admit. Or, at least there was when she was upset. Sunehri never hoarded joy. But she never shared distress, grief, or guilt. Piper had known her too long to be fooled by her act.

“It’s a shame they weren’t smarter,” Piper said. She leaned back against the wall, careful not to look at the girl next to her. “I would have followed you across the battle lines, if they’d let you think to ask.”

“You would never betray your country so easily,” Sunehri said. “You’re a better person than I am.”

“Don’t start that. It wasn’t your fault. None of it was.”

Sunehri said nothing. She looked straight ahead, as if she could see through the wall.

She had returned so quickly to the way things had been before, to studying theoretical magic, to dressing the same way, acting the same way, greeting her fellow scholars as if nothing had happened…most people might assume that her actions hadn’t bothered her. Piper knew better.

She wasn’t foolish enough to offer Sunehri a shoulder to cry on. Her pride wouldn’t accept it, and she never cried. But that didn’t mean Piper missed the fact that she scrubbed her skin near raw in the tub every evening, the fact that she slept less than she used to, the fact that she hadn’t so much as looked at a weapon since she’d been back.

“Even you couldn’t fight a spell like that. It took eighteen hours to get off you. I know, I was there.”

“I was foolish. I shouldn’t have wandered out so far on my own,” Sunehri said.

“Sunehri, If I…if I hadn’t been such an idiot, you never would have been there at all. If I had been where I should have been, if I’d apologized, if I hadn’t argued with you…you can play that game for hours, days, and it won’t get you anywhere.”

“Piper…”

“I wasn’t there when I should have been. I’m not going to abandon you again. Never again, you hear me?”

The two girls met each other’s eyes for the first time in the conversation.

“I hear you,” Sunehri said. The cold look in her eyes melted a little and she offered Piper her hand. Piper took it.

“We’ll be together this time, no matter what happens.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Sunehri said. Piper held her close, and pretended not to notice when Sunehri started to cry.

The Witch and the Dragon - a fairy tale I wrote that sits in a novel I may never publish

Once upon a time there lived a great and terrible dragon. He had scales as dark as coal and eyes that glowed like the sun itself. The fire in him was so hot that water boiled in his presence when he was mad. He had a roar like the thunder during the very wildest of summer storms. He roared a great deal, for any dragon his size comes with a great and terrible hunger - and nothing makes dragons so irritable as an empty stomach.

This dragon lived in a cave on a high hill above a prosperous kingdom. And every time he grew hungry he would roar so ferociously that they could hear him all the way to the borders on every side. He roared so loud that hens wouldn’t lay eggs, cows wouldn’t give milk, windows shattered and the very stones in the walls rattled.

The king announced that any cook to placate the beast would be paid thrice their weight in gold. A stream of cooks went to the hill to placate the dragon. But none could keep up with his demands, and soon enough he would gobble them up in anger and then roar for another as soon as his belly grew empty again. The best of cooks, the worst of cooks, male or female, young or old, rich or poor. All of them went into the dragon’s belly. Even the king’s own cook was killed eventually. And still the dragon roared.

Then the king appealed to his knights. Any knight who slayed the beast would receive the hand of his daughter in marriage. The princess was a great beauty with hair like gold and eyes like a summer sky and skin as pure as cream. Knights from all over the world came to face the dragon, but none succeeded.

When they got close enough to fight the dragon the sheer heat off of him caused their armor to melt away. And once they were free from their armor, like a nut from a shell, the dragon ate them. He ate the horses too, and used the spears, lances and swords as toothpicks. He wasn’t very happy about the knights. But what could he do? It took tremendous energy to fly on a rampage and the dragon was far too hungry to make the trip. He roared, and the kingdom suffered. But no one could do a thing about it. The once prosperous kingdom fell into great despair.

Then one day a young witch saw the reward poster about the dragon. She heard the dragon roar and decided she could do something about it. She snapped her fingers. Gone was the famous and wealthy witch in silk and velvet. In her place stood a simple village girl with a threadbare rucksack. Thus disguised, she went to see the king and queen.

“Who are you?” He asked her.

“A cook,” she told him.

“A cook!”

“I’ve come to cook for the dragon milord,” she said.

“And why should you succeed when all else have failed?” the king demanded.

“I grew up with seventeen hungry brothers milord. When I heard about the dragon I know that only I could feed such a beast. I have come to seek my fortune.”

“Very well,” the king said, “you may go to the hill and try to feed the dragon. If you succeed, you may have thrice your weight in gold.”

“I’ll do more than try, milord. I’ll feed him so well he’ll not bother you again! But I have no need for your gold.”

“I thought you said you came to seek your fortune,” the queen said.

“When I succeed, I’d like the reward you promised the knights: your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

“The reward for the knights!” the king exclaimed. He glared at her. Then he shrugged. Finally, he nodded, too desperate to turn away someone who might, might rid him of the beast. “If you prevent the dragon from bothering us, you may have the reward you ask for.”

Thus assured, the witch walked right up the big hill in her disguise of a poor village girl, with a pack on her back.

“Who disturbs me at my rest?” The dragon roared. The rock beneath her feet shakes. Heat rolls off of him, scorching the stone around the entrance to his lair a sooty black.

“You’re new cook, milord dragon,” the witch said, and curtsied.

“My cook!”

“Your cook,” she agreed. The dragon peered at her, and his curiosity served to cool his fires.

“Very well. There are animals and a large garden on the other side of the hill. My dinner will be served promptly at six, and if there isn’t enough to go around, I’ll gobble you up!” He snapped at her.

“Yes, milord dragon,” she said. She walked into the oven he called a lair and showed herself the way to the kitchen. A door made of iron separated it from the rest of the lair. The dragon slammed the door behind her, and locked her in. The only way out is a small door leading to the fenced in garden. But that didn’t concern the witch at all. She opened up her pack and pulled out her most prized possession: her portable cauldron.

She filled her little cauldron up with water and hung it over the fire. As the water began to boil, she sprinkled in a bit of magic powder from her pack and spoke to it.

“Cauldron, Cauldron on the fire

Please grant me my heart’s desire

Cook up some food to feed this beast

Make it a feast and a half a least!”

The cauldron began to boil and bubble even more fiercely than before. The water in it began to glow. Soon something emerged – a platter with roasted meat piled high and drizzled with a tangy sauce and parsley for garnish. The witch removed the platter and put it on a nearby trolley.

Over the next two hours the witch removed many things from the cauldron. All manners of meats, twelve trays in all, six rounds of cheese almost too big for her to carry, seventeen different loaves of bread, one giant bowl of stew and another of chili, sides of rice to go with both, two full barrels of beer and one of water for drinking, and so many cakes, trifles, puddings and pies that it was impossible to count them all. She loaded them all up on the trolley, stacking them as best she could without ruining any of the food. Promptly at six she wheeled it out to the dragon’s dining room.

He was ready to roar at her, but his eyes fairly popped out of his head when he saw the trolley. Still, he was a very hungry dragon.

“This will only do for a first course,” he bellowed. The witch curtsied.

“There is more, of course,” she said. After unloading the trolley she went back into the kitchen and fetched out a giant salad, three tureens of soup, six omlettes, five dozen hard-boiled eggs, and ten bowls of different types of fruits. Then came the vegetables – steamed and roasted, boiled and blanched they came – every kind you’ve ever heard of and a few you haven’t. She brought out all of those too, with another barrel of water to quench his thirst. Again he roared and sent her back for more.

The third time she came out with more deserts than the whole court could have eaten. She brought ice creams and candies, brownies and cookies, little tea cakes and candied nuts, sweetbreads with jam, cupcakes and a great bowl of pudding, along with a barrel full of coffee to drink with it.

All of this the dragon ate. He ate and ate and ate, never minding that he mixed up dinner with breakfast with desert with after dinner coffee. The dragon had never seen so much food in one place before! And through it all, the witch brought more and more, for her little cauldron could toil on indefinitely. The witch had gone into the kitchen for a sixth time when a loud bang reverberated around the caverns and rattled the dishes on the trolley. Once her ears stopped ringing, she went out to see what happened. But the dragon was nowhere to be found. The glutton had eaten so much that he popped like an overstuffed sausage!

She returned to the kitchen.

“Cauldron, Cauldron on the fire

You’ve given me my heart’s desire

You have done what you do best,

Now give yourself a nice long rest!”

With one last plate of brownies, the water in the cauldron went still and dark. The witch emptied it in the garden, packed it in her back, and returned to the castle. The king, queen, prince and princess all greeted her on her return.

“The dragon is no more, milord,” she said. “He has eaten himself to death. And I have come to claim my reward.”

The king sputtered.

“Your reward!” he said. “Please reconsider, take the gold. My daughter is too delicate for life in a village. How could you provide for her?”

“What kind of king cannot be counted on to keep his royal word?” the witch asked, standing. The anger in her eyes burned almost as hotly as the dragon’s fire. She snapped her fingers and her disguise melted away. The king quailed in front of her, for she was a famous witch. Now he recognized her, but it was too late. She began to chant a curse for the fickle king, until the princess stood.

“Please spare my father, gracious witch,” the princess said, “for his only crime is caring too much for his children’s happiness. Until this moment he has been a wise and generous king.”

“A king who used you as a reward,” the witch said, “and has broken a promise to me.”

“I put myself up as a reward,” the princess corrected. “It is my choice to make. And I will gladly go with you – to life in a village, or in a palace, or on the road – so long as you spare my father.”

“Very well,” the witch said, touched by the princess’ devotion. She dismissed the spell she had been weaving. She held out her hand, and the princess took it. A split second, and the two had vanished.

Over time, as the king rebuilt his kingdom, he heard stories of two witches who traveled together, ridding curses, righting wrongs, and journeying to places where ordinary mortals feared to tread. And though he did not see his daughter often, he had it on good authority that she lived happily ever after.

A side story about some characters from Laero when they were younger

Clack. Clack. Nelli woke with a start, heart pounding. Clack. Someone was throwing pebbles at her window. Only one person would do that, but it couldn’t be…could it? She bolted out of bed and to the window. For a moment she could only stare down at the figure standing on the path below. Clack. The pebble hit right in front of her and Nelli flinched. She slid the window open before another projectile could be launched. “Retta!” She hissed, “What are you doing here? If the Brigade finds you, they’ll kill you!” Retta just waved at her. In the dark, Nelli couldn’t tell if the Marzjen had her normal obnoxious grin on her face, but Nelli could only assume the answer was yes. She sighed and reached into the trunk beside the window and attached the escape ladder to the window frame. Retta shimmied up the rope ladder as easy as she climbed the rigging on a ship. Five minutes later, she was perched on the windowsill. “Hello, Nelli love. Been a while,” Retta said, as if they had seen each other a week ago and not a year ago. Nelli stared at her. She looked almost exactly the same as when she had left, a little taller maybe. But she smiled the same way, and sat in the same position she’d taken when they said their final good-bye before. Nelli flushed, and was glad it was too dark for Retta to tell. “What are you doing here?” She asked, again. “Tch,” Retta clucked her tongue. “What you think? I want to ask you this thing, to come with me.” “What? Retta-” “I’m a djaitani now. I have my own ship…Skrimarzje. We can go anywhere. Anywhere you want,” Retta said eagerly. Nelli blinked. Retta had asked her to leave before, and Nelli had refused. And she’s spent the whole year regretting it – and assuming that she would never see the other girl again. She’d thought about running off on her own, hitching a ride on a Marzjen ship until she found Retta. She’s thought about leaving with abandon if Retta ever came back. But she’d known that she wouldn’t leave, and Retta…why would she have come back? Surely other Marzjen had more to offer than she did. But here Retta was, just waiting for her response. Nelli was frozen with indecision. She couldn’t look Retta in the eye. “What about your plan?” Nelli asked, instead. A coward’s way out. Why couldn’t she just make a decision? “Oh,” Retta said, “No worry so much for that. I’ll make the other plan, someday. But there’s only one you, Nelli love. And I want you with me, I know this thing.” “You’re really willing to give up all of that?” “Nelli, if to have you, I must live here on land for all my life, I would make this choice. To pick between you, and my plan…this choice is easy for me. But you give up more, so I can only ask you to come,” Retta said. Nelli looked at Retta. The Marzjen’s smile had faltered, just a little around the edges. She was nervous. Retta! Nervous! That, more than anything, decided her. “Ok,” she said. And had the pleasure of seeing Retta look, not just nervous, but completely flummoxed for the first time. She couldn’t help but laugh. “My Marzjenni is a little rusty though. You’ll have to teach me again.” “You say yes, for truly?” Retta asked, still dumb-founded. Nelli’s response to that didn’t need any words at all.

A piece of backstory about a character from a novel that will certainly never be published

It could have ignored the summons if it wanted. Yes, of course it could. A name spoken and spilled blood were only so effective after all. No, it was the curiosity that brought it. A summons, strong enough to be heard, pulling it across the centuries-old barrier and into the mysterious and so-far unseen land of Hildeba. Hildeba! A place no spirit had ever been before. It was the curiosity, not the summons which drew it. At least that’s what it told itself.

It expected the usual thing, for mages that called it. Plump avarice old mages with ring on their fingers or thin, untrustworthy mages with ratty clothes. It did not expect a young girl. A young scowling girl, who was not at all impressed. The spirit checked itself. Tall and pointy? Yes. Long talons? Yes. Too many teeth? Yes. It was all in place, but the girl didn’t seem to care.

“It took you long enough,” she said. The spirit drew back offended.

“What do you want, little girl?” It asked, a bit put out. Is it really that hard to appreciate the effort a spirit puts into its shadow self?

“I have some rats I need exterminated,” the girl said. The spirit huffed.

“There are plenty less important spirits you could bother with that,” it said.

“I want them to suffer,” the girl said. This took the spirit by surprise. It had seen cold rage before, but not often. And not usually in children.

“Well,” it said, stretching its talons. Most humans didn’t call it these days, there were less dangerous spirits to deal with. A hunt could be fun. “Do you know what you are asking for, really?”

“Revenge,” the girl said, “is a worthless pursuit. I could track them all down and make them suffer ten times what they did to her and it still wouldn’t bring her back or make my heart ache less. But I want to do it all the same. I want them to suffer for it, and I want them to know why they are suffering. I have read the strange books from the west and I know that you are the one who can give me what I want.”

“And the price you pay? How will you bear that burden?”

“If I do this, my people will disinherit me. My land will be closed off, my name will be stripped from our records, my own gods will be forbidden to me. That is the level of pain I wish to inflict, and it is what I will endure. I believe that sort of ‘death’ should suffice.”

It looked into her mind and found this all to be true. Harsh punishment, for revenge. But it was less about the revenge and more about the method. Spirits were forbidden here. Even calling one could be banishment, for a less important person. A lot to give up, for one dead sister. Then again, humans were strange. If the men responsible had controlled their lust and greed, they would not be scheduled to die. If this child could have contained her wrath, she could have been queen. ‘Death’ of the self, indeed! That sort of thing was worth decades of its service.

“What will you do after?” the spirit asked.

“First, I will go to the elders and confess what I have done. Then I will go west and become a mage,” the girl said. “The best of mages, I think. And I will spend my life atoning for what I am about to do. The scales must be balanced, somehow.”

Humans, it thought again, are very strange. And Hildebans, apparently, stranger than most. Still, it got bored sitting in the spirit realm all the time. It may as well.

“I will need a name, to come through,” it told her.

“Brynn. Brynn Erin,” the girl said. “It would have been my niece’s name, in time. It is only fitting that you should wear it.”

The spirit nodded, and came fully into being. She, for it was a she now, was slightly smaller and less pointed than her shadow. But the fangs and talons were still good enough for the job ahead.

“You will need a name too, if yours is to be taken from you.”

“I’ll think of that later,” the girl said. “We have more important things to do.”

A little poem I wrote on assignment in college

The girl watched the grackle get pushed around by other birds

As she was pushed around by other people

And saw in him a friend or more.

So, one day she said: Iffen that I could kiss ye on the beak

An ye would shed yer feathered husk to be a prince fer me.

The grackle replied: raven a queen and crow a prince might be, but I…

O, I am naught but a little fool, trading ruckus for crusts of bread.

She smiled and said: Don’t ye know?

Ye could be a pauper a bard a knight a fool,

An still be a prince to me.

#Writing #TC's Writing #long post #this is all really old work by now lol #but I still like them

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backofthebookshelf · 3 years

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The DMCA and You; or, why Tumblr won’t get sued over Post+

I keep seeing people saying “doesn’t Tumblr understand they’re inviting an avalanche of lawsuits” and being baffled that people think this, and then I remembered that most of you were not both alive and in fandom in 1998 and therefore probably haven’t spent hours reading through the DMCA trying to figure out exactly how it was going to screw us. (Turns out we were right, but not nearly pessimistic enough.) So gather ‘round, children, it’s time for another bout of fandom history.

You have to understand what the internet looked like in 1998. Most people didn’t have internet access at home, and for those who did, you got a whopping 54 kbps (yes, that’s kilobytes per second) (compare that to 4G wireless, which 14 Mbps, not to mention, you know, wireless) unless you wanted to shell out for ISDN, which was twice the speed and five times the cost. Only 47% of American adults “went online” at all, never mind the two to six hours per day that current internet users are estimated to spend.

And I mean, why would you? There wasn’t that much there. If you wanted to post something online, your first and best option was to pay for web hosting of your own, or mooch off a friend’s. Or you could get a Geocities site, which would be plastered with ads and limited you to such a small amount of storage that you couldn’t have more than a couple dozen low-resolution images at best, or you could post on a message board (which would be essentially mooching off of a friend’s paid web hosting, because most sites that hosted message boards were just some guy who wanted to have a place to chat with his friends that wasn’t a Yahoo! email list), where you might get permission to post three or four images at a time. Music? Rude, takes up too much bandwidth, don’t do that to people. Video? You’re hilarious. (I once left my computer on for a week while I attempted to illegally download a copy of Velvet Goldmine but I finally gave up and got it from the video store instead.)

But still, at the time that was magic, and as more and more stuff found its way online, somebody who held a copyright somewhere (read: music studios and Disney) realized they had to get out in front of things. And into this brave new world came the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, which was passed in 1998 and was already skewing the shape of the internet of the future when it came into effect in 2000.

It did a lot of dumb things but the one we’re concerned about is the “safe harbor” provision, which basically says that in the case of an online copyright infringement, there are three parties: the infringer, the copyright holder, and the internet host, and the host is not a part of the copyright dispute.

Prior to this, if Sony or Disney or whoever found an illegal copy of their intellectual property (read: an mp3 or an avi) online, they’d go after whoever owned the server it lived on. Which made sense! If you find stolen TVs in someone’s basement, you go after the guy who owns the basement, and “I didn’t know my deadbeat brother in law was stealing TVs” is something you’ll have to prove in a court of law.

But internet companies like Geocities and Yahoo! and anyone else who offered random users the chance to post things on the internet using a free account said wait a minute, this doesn’t make sense. Because the internet is not like a physical basement; we have no reason to see someone carrying stolen mp3s down the basement stairs, and the scale is such that we couldn’t see all of them if we tried (unless we banned all mp3s, which means goodbye, MySpace, and goodbye indie bands). You wouldn’t go after a landlord in New York because their tenant in New Jersey is stealing TVs, would you?

So the DMCA said fine, we understand that the internet as it currently exists, and as it is attempting to exist (remember this is still the height of the dot.com boom and people are making money hand over fist by just owning websites), can’t operate if we try to do this. So instead of letting big companies sue big companies over copyright law, we’ll let big companies sue individual humans over copyright violations. That’s much more fair.

Of course most of what resulted wasn’t lawsuits at all; it was individuals getting threatening letters from Sony and Disney promising them that they were planning to sue but if you, Joe User, will just delete the thing you posted from the internet, we’re willing to make this all go away. And people did, because fuck, who’s going to duke it out with Disney?

The DMCA is the reason tumblr exists in the first place (not to mention twitter, and facebook, and essentially the entire part of the internet that isn’t either an ad or a news website). Technically, if tumblr was responsible for copyright violations, they’re already a prime target for a lawsuit, because they’re running ads on a website where people post copyright violations on a daily basis. Adding the opportunity for you to make money off your copyright violations doesn’t make them any more liable than they already are, which is not at all.

So here’s what predict will happen with Post+ at the beginning: absolutely nothing. A few people will monetize gifsets or fanfiction or vids and no one will pay attention and no one will care. But some small creators, people who post original fiction, people who post craft patterns, people who post insightful analysis, will start using it as part of their actual revenue stream. Sooner or later someone will be making enough money that it pings someone’s radar, and sooner or later someone making money will slip up and post something that could plausibly be a copyright violation, and they won’t get sued. They’ll get a takedown notice, a threatening letter from whoever owns the thing they infringed upon (...so Disney), and they’ll pull the thing. But it’s hard to pull things from the internet, much harder than it used to be, and nearly impossible the way tumblr works. So they get another takedown notice. Or Disney’s lawyers go through their blog with a fine-toothed comb and they start getting more and more unreasonable takedown notices, but now they’re scared and fuck, who’s going to duke it out with Disney? So they take their blog down entirely, and now that person is a little bit poorer and Disney is out the cost of four or five stamps and envelopes and the time their lawyer spent fifteen years ago drafting the takedown notice template.

I guarantee you that the people who decided to implement this know that this is going to happen, and they do not care. We’ve reached the “we could make this website work if we could just get rid of fandom” stage, which never ends well for the website but they never seem to learn that. So please, please don’t try to monetize fandom content on the assumption that tumblr is going to be the one to get slapped with a lawsuit for it, that’s just not how it works. It never has been and it never will be.

#tumblr is a website #fandom history #copyright law #psa

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aquamarinescarlet · 3 years

Text

Great, my girlfriend is a toddler

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: ~4.5k

Warnings: one curse word (I think), mentions of past trauma (nothing graphic), and a lot of fluff

Summary: Reader is caught in a trap during a mission and ends up trapping herself in her five year old mind and body.

Author’s note: I know I basically just post incorrect quotes, but this idea came to me and I just had to write it. I won’t stop with the incorrects btw, and if you guys prefer I create a different blog to post these little stories just let me know. Without further ado, enjoy, and let me know what you think (this is my first time writing something like this too, so tips/remarks are always welcome).

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the marvel characters.

(Picture is not mine, got it on pinterest)

“West wing clear”

“Basement clear”

“Guys I need some help here.”

You heard through comms as your teammates infiltrated the Hydra base.

It was a fairly simple mission, small base, so not that many enemies to fight off.

As you made your way down an empty corridor to the control room you could listen to Bucky's grunts, and punches, on your earpiece as Sam and Steve made their way to him.

The silence and emptiness was rather suspicious, but you made nothing off of it, thankful you would get in easily.

“I’m in the control room.” You spoke when you found yourself surrounded by computers and all sorts of technology. It seemed quite ancient for an organization that has been a pain in your asses for the past months.

Hacking wasn’t your specialty, but you sure were better at it then the other three, hence you getting the task. Your eyes scanned the room, trained on identifying threats. Surprised by the emptiness of it all, you focused on finding the main system.

You plugged the pen drive Stark had prepared and started typing, your eyes occasionally leaving the screen to take a quick glance around the room, an uneasy feeling growing at the pit of your stomach.

“Y/L/N, we’re all clear here,” Steve’s voice rang on your ear, “how are you doing there.”

“I’m nearly done,” you stared at the computer as the information was downloaded to the little gadget, “I don’t know guys, something here feels wrong, it’s too empty, too quiet.”

No response.

“Guys? Can you hear me?” Your heart rate picked up, something was definitely wrong.

In a second the download was complete, and you hastily snatched the pen drive, going for the door. Your desperation grew when you stated it was locked.

“Can anyone listen? I’m locked.” You spoke to the earpiece. “The doors locked automatically. I need help getting out.”

The door was sealed shut, not even a small slit in between it and the floor, your powers wouldn’t help you on this one. You tried to bring your heart rate down as your eyes scoured the room once again for a way out. No air vents, no windows, there was another door on the other end of the room, and you promptly made your way to it, only to confirm it was also locked shut.

Your attention was brought back to the first door, loud banging and a faint voice coming from the other side. Thankfully the boys noticed there was a problem and came to your aid. As you ran across the room, your head started to get fuzzy, your vision was not as clear as it had been seconds ago, and breathing was starting to get harder.

Before you even reached the still shut door, your body collapsed on the floor, everything going black.

You stirred in bed, shifting to a more comfortable position. Some light seeped through your eyelids, but you were tired, dragging the sleep as long as possible.

Your peace was broken by a door suddenly opening.

“What the hell happened?” A woman’s voice filled the room. She sounded angry, and upset, the hostility in her tone made you clutch the blanket harder.

“Wanda calm-” A man spoke, but was cut off by the woman.

“Calm down? CALM DOWN? Don’t you tell me to calm down, Stark, when I got back from a mission fifteen minutes ago only to learn that my girlfriend turned herself into a five year old toddler.” She was loud and it just made you even more scared of being in trouble.

A small whimper escaped your throat getting both people's attention. You opened your eyes only to be met by several stares, there were easily five or six people in that room, but you didn’t have time to count as you pulled the blanket over your head, bringing your knees closer to your chest.

Your body was trembling with fear from what you knew would come next. You hadn’t done anything, you had been a good girl, done your chores, never speaking unless spoken to, but for some reason the people from the orphanage took a particular liking in punishing you even when you hadn’t done anything bad.

You waited for it to come, but instead of the ill-disposed voice and harsh hands, you were met with a soft “hey” and a delicate hand. Nonetheless it was still frightened, making your whole body tense.

“I’m sowy, I didn’t do anyfing, pwease don’t huwt me, I’ve been good.” You cried out, tears threatening to fall.

The hand started to caress your arm soothingly.

“Hey Y/N, you’re okay, we’re not going to hurt you, okay? You’re safe here.” Your muscles relaxed slightly at the words, thick with an accent, and touch. Your mind was still on alert but for some reason your body responded to this woman in a way your mind didn’t understand.

“Seems like she lost her memories too, she still thinks she is in that horrible place.” A new voice spoke up.

“Hey Y/N,” the woman spoke close to you, low as not to frighten you further, “you’re not in the orphanage anymore okay? You are somewhere safe. Those people can’t get to you here.”

You peeked over the blanket and was met with mesmerizing green eyes, they seemed so kind and comforting putting you at ease.

“Pwomise?”

“I promise. No one’s going to hurt you. We will protect you.” She offered you a smile that made your lips want to curl into one too, despite your wariness of the woman still being a stranger.

You pulled the blanket back above your head, muttering a quiet “okay”. Your heart rate then picked up it’s pace once you noticed you would be punished for forgetting your manners, your mind still not fully understanding you were no longer in a dangerous place.

You yanked the blanket just below your chin, uncovering your whole face so you were facing the woman.

“Fank you, miss.” You spoke quickly and hid again.

She chuckled slightly and you couldn’t help but feel fuzzy.

“How about you stop hiding that pretty face of yours huh?” The words caused a smile to unconsciously tug at your lips, as you pulled the blanket down and started to sit up. “See, much better, right?”

You stared at the figure in front of you with what could only be described as adoration. She was just so kind and beautiful you couldn’t seem to stop smiling. A slight movement behind her brought you out of your daze and you landed your gaze on the several people watching the interaction, people you had seemingly forgotten were still in the room.

Your eyes went wide and a gasp left your lips before you laid back down, covering your curled up body with the blanket again. The woman noticed what had frightened you and brought her hand back to caress your back.

“Hey, it’s okay, they’re only here to protect you too. They are just worried about you.” You didn’t move, this was too many new people and having all their eyes on you was making you nervous. “Do you want me to ask them to leave?” She whispered closer to your ear and you nodded excessively.

Sounds of chairs moving, footsteps and a door closing were heard before the room fell back to silence.

“We’re alone now.”

You peeked carefully outside the blanket to be sure you were alone. When you found the rest of the room empty, you moved to sit back up. Suddenly the idea of being alone with this woman made you very shy, your eyes watching as you wiggled your toes.

“Fank you, miss.”

“Wanda”

“Wanda” You whispered, not taking your eyes off of your feet.

After a few moments of silence a question popped into your head.

“Why did you save me?” You tried to speak but the sound wasn’t higher than a whisper.

“What?”

“”Why did you save me.” You said louder. “The Sisters said that I was- I was a bad giwl, and that is why my pawents didn’t want me, and no one would want because I was bad and-”

“Okay, stop,” she cut off your rambling and you finally met her gaze, “all those things they said about you are not true, okay? Don’t believe any of that.”

“How do you know it is not twue.” Sadness seeping on your voice. “You don’t even know me.”

“Quite on the contrary, I happen to know you very well. I know you get grumpy when you wake up. I know you don’t like to wear dresses. I know you like to laugh and make lots of funny jokes. I know your favourite colour, favorite food, favourite animal, favourite movie… but most importantly,” she brought her hands to rest on your sides, “I know you are very ticklish.”

At that she started to tickle you mercilessly causing you to fall back on the bed, a string of laughs and giggles escaping your mouth. She stopped after a few seconds and you took the opportunity to catch your breath.

“See. I know many things about you.”

“Yeah.” You said amidst giggles.

“And I know that none of those things the Sisters said about you are true.”

“Fank you, miss Wanda.” She let out a laugh.

“You are too cute,” she pinched your cheeks causing you to feel shy all of a sudden, “just call me Wanda.”

Your gaze fell down to the mattress again.

“Okay, fank you, Wanda.” Your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re welcome.” She brought her hand up to smooth your hair. “Do you want anything sweetie?” That little nickname just made you even more flustered, even though you couldn’t hide the smile that formed at your lips.

You pondered her question for a second, you were hungry, but you knew better than to ask for food outside of mealtimes, the memories of the punishments still fresh. After a few moments you shook your head.

“Are you sure?” She pushed. “Don’t you want to eat something?” It was almost as if she could read your mind. “You can tell me, it’s okay, no one will hurt you for being hungry. And we can fix up something for us to eat.” She must have noticed your hesitation. “Y’know, I’m a little bit hungry too.” She whispered close to your ear, her breath tickling your ear causing you to chuckle.

Your mind knew this was a bad idea, that you would get punished after, but Wanda was just so convincing you ended up nodding weakly.

“There you go.” She cheered.

She picked you up from the bed, but before she could lower you to the floor your arms circled her neck and your legs, her waist. You couldn’t help it, you just wanted to be close to her. She giggled at your actions, but didn’t fight it, carrying you out of the room and into a big corridor.

When the sound of muffled voices started to grow louder, your posture became tense. Wanda took notice, rubbing circles on your back.

“Hey, it’s alright, they are nice, you’ll see.” She tried to calm you down.

Your posture relaxed, but you weren’t sure if it was because of her words or just her general presence.

“Whewe awe we going?”

“To the kitchen.”

“And the people in the kitchen? Will they huwt me?”

“No honey, of course not, they care so much about you, they are here to protect you too.”

As she made her way into the kitchen, you hid your face in the crook of her neck, trying to ignore how the room went quiet with your presence.

“How is she?” A male voice asked, you recognized it from moments earlier.

“She’s okay, a little scared, seems like she did also lose all her memories, everything she knows is from when she was five.”

Wanda moved around and kept up with the conversation, to which you stopped paying attention when your eyes fell onto a thing a man was eating. You had tried one of those before, once, when an old woman donated a basket of those to the orphanage and you managed to steal a small piece, it was delicious, tasted like heaven compared to all the tasteless food they gave you in that place.

Wanda settled on a chair and you kept your head hidden, but your eyes were locked on the man.

You thought you heard Wanda calling you, but your attention was entirely on that piece of food. The man seemed to take notice when he met your gaze and gave you a smirk. The eye contact would’ve made you shy away, but Wanda’s presence made you feel safe, so you held it.

“I think I know what she wants.” He spoke to Wanda. “Would you like a muffin Y/N?” He directed at you. You lifted your head from Wanda’s shoulder and, after a moment of hesitation, you nodded slowly.

He opened a cabinet and picked one up, handing it to you, offering a beaming smile. You stared at it for a second, not expecting him to give you a whole one. Your eyes darted from him to Wanda, looking for some sort of confirmation.

“It’s okay, take it.” She smiled at you encouragingly.

You slowly stretched your hand and grabbed the item.

“Fank you, siw.” You practically whispered.

“You can call me Sam.”

“Fank you, Mw. Sam.”

“Huh, Mr Sam, I can get used to that.” He joked. Or at least you thought he did, since now you were just blankly staring at the muffin, not really sure if you should really eat it, despite your stomach screaming for you to do so.

“Just call him Sam,” Wanda spoke to you, “and we can’t let her keep calling us that, Sam, she does it out of fear for disrespecting us.”

“Is that why she also hesitated from taking the muffin?” A new voice questioned.

“I don’t know Stark, maybe…” Wanda trailed off and you decided to help, since they were talking about you anyways.

“Fhey did not let us- let us eat out of meal time and-,” you took a breath trying to calm your nerves, “and thewe wewe too many kids so- so thewe was nevew enough food and- and,” your eyes went wide when you noticed everyone was staring at you intently and a whimper left your lips unconsciously before you shoved your face back into Wanda’s neck.

She rubbed your back in an attempt to calm you down and, surprisingly enough, it did. Something about her just made you so calm.

“You don’t have to worry about this here,” a man with glasses said, “we have plenty of food and no rules, you can have whatever you want whenever you want, just tell any of us and we’ll get it for you, deal?” You smiled at how nice they were being with you.

“Deal, siw.” You nodded.

“And call me Tony, please.” You nodded again.

“See, it’s fine, you're safe here.” Wanda reassured, giving you a kiss on your temple. The action caused a silly smile to grow on your lips and your cheeks to heat up, as you leaned into her chest.

“Oh, come on, seriously?” A man with the same accent as Wanda blurted. “She has known you for, what? 20 minutes? And she already has a crush on you.” His comment made laughter erupt around the kitchen, and, even though you didn’t understand what was so funny, you enjoyed the moment. Laughter was not common in the orphanage.

Throughout the rest of the day you started to feel more comfortable around everyone.

Wanda never left your side, or, you were the one who never left her side. Spending the rest of the evening watching movies on the most amazing TV room you had ever stepped foot on.

Other people would join you from time to time. Pietro, who you learned was Wanda’s brother; Natasha, or Nat as she preferred; Bucky; Sam; and Steve.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint when it was that you fell asleep. You just knew you were now in a room you had never seen before, it was pretty, but unfamiliar. You saw a stuffed animal left on the edge of the bed and clutched onto it, trying to get the images from the nightmare you just had out of your mind.

Several minutes passed and you were just too scared to even close your eyes. Sleeping alone was something you never did, the rooms in the orphanage were filled to the brim with precarious beds or improvised mattresses due to the excessive amount of kids there.

Deciding that you wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore, you climbed out of bed and made your way out of that room. Your feet automatically took you to another door down a big hall. You knocked softly, but got no response.

After three more tries, you turned the door knob and it opened. You put your head inside the room and detected a figure laying in a bed.

“Wanda,” you whisper shouted, trying to catch the woman’s attention, “Wandaaa.”

She stirred and lifted her head to look at you, her eyes were sleepy, but she managed to give you a tired smile.

“Hey Y/N, is something wrong? Do you need anything?”

“Can I- can I sleep with you?” Your gaze fell to the floor.

“Sure.” You smiled widely and ran towards her, climbing into the bed messily, since it was so ridiculously tall.

She laid on her back, opening her arms, and you took that as your chance to cuddle into her, wrapping your tiny limbs around her torso. She caressed your hair until you drifted to sleep.

The next morning you woke up still cuddled to Wanda. She was still fast asleep, and looked so peaceful you didn’t have the heart to move and risk waking her. Plus, you liked the proximity, the warmth from her body, her arm hugging you close.

A few minutes passed before she opened her eyes, only to be met by yours.

“Good mowning.”

“Good morning princess,” you giggled at the nickname, “wanna go down and get some breakfast?”

You nodded eagerly, already used this new environment, without the rigid rules and punishments. She climbed out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, you just sat up and watched as she washed her face or something. She then went through another door, which you assumed was where she kept her clothes since moments later she came back in different clothes.

She picked you up from the bed and took you into the kitchen. When she walked past the room, a confused expression grew on you.

“Whewe awe we going?”

“To the dining room, we usually have our breakfast there.”

“Oh, okay.”

And that was one breakfast table alright. All kinds of fruit, bread, cereal, cake, cheese and ham, and butter.

“Look who found our little runaway.” Tony commented, but you didn’t give him any attention, mesmerized by the amount of food.

“Yeah, she found her way into my room in the middle of the night.”

“Really? How?” Steve asked.

“Good question, hey, sweetie,” Wanda caught your attention and you turned to look at her, “how did you know which one was my room last night?” You shrugged.

“I just knew whewe to go.”

“Seems like some part of her memory is still intact.” Stark remarked with interest.

Wanda sat down, with you in her lap and started serving food on her plate. The rest of the room fell into light conversation as you all enjoyed breakfast.

Soon you were interrupted by Bruce.

“Guys, I’ve got results from the tests.”

“Do you know what happened?” Steve asked eagerly.

“Kind of, the smoke she inhaled during the mission was poisonous, it was supposed to kill her, but it seems like her cells reacted to it differently.” He explained. “Her shapeshifting abilities reacted with the poison causing her body to, well, change, in order to avoid dying.”

“My powews wewe able to bweak down the poisonous gas into hawmless pawticles.” You responded automatically.

Everyone was shocked at your statement, but you just kept on eating like nothing had happened, not understanding what they were so surprised about.

“Yes… precisely,” Bruce added, slowly, “and that took a toll on her own cells, turning off her powers momentarily, why she got stuck as her five year old self with no memories whatsoever of the rest of her life is unclear.”

“Can you turn her back?” Nat asked.

“I can try and find some serum that reverts her situation, but, by the looks of it, her body is doing it on its own.”

“She did remember her way to my room last night, and now this. It means her memory is coming back.”

“Can you predict how long it’ll take for her to come back to her own self?” Bucky urged.

“Not really, this is all new to me. Although if I had to take a hint, I’d say a couple of weeks at least.” The scientist answered.

“But she will come back, right?” Wanda sounded preoccupied, and it caught your attention.

“Relax sister, she’ll come back. And even if she doesn’t, she’s already in love with you again anyways.” Pietro teased.

“That’s not helping.” She teased back and tightened her hold on you.

A few days passed and, as expected, you were still stuck as a five year old. You would slip out little snippets of things from time to time, memories of things you’ve learned only when you were much older, but you still weren’t coming back.

After a while you fell into a routine. You would sleep with Wanda every night, watch movies with her and some of the other people in that place, Bucky and Sam would come up with the funnest games for you to play, Pietro would take you around the compound to help set pranks to play on the others.

You grew accustomed to the place and the people. The lack of excessive rules was relaxing. How nice everyone was to you. When Wanda would call you cute nicknames and get you all shy and flustered.

You were now watching Frozen for the fifth time that week, with Wanda by your side and Nat, Peter and Sam scattered around the TV room.

They found it adorable how you sang along to every song even though you didn’t know any of the lyrics. Peter and Sam had now countless videos on their phones of you doing all sorts of things just to mock you when you came back to your older self.

The movie was nearing the end, now on the scene where they were rushing Anna to the trolls to see if they could help keep her alive. You sang along to the song up until the moment where Anna collapsed from the spell Elsa threw on her.

At that moment you mindlessly turned to Wanda, the words seeping out of your mouth without your control.

“You bettew not die on ouw wedding.” Her eyes went wide with shock from the statement, which you didn’t notice.

“What?” She whispered, more to herself than to you.

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna mawwy you one day.” You gave her a smile and turned your attention back to the TV, unaware of what you had just said as a blush creeped around Wanda’s face.

When the movie ended, you chanted for you guys to watch it again, earning a groan from everyone. When a yawn escaped your lips, Wanda took that as her cue.

“C’mon, honey, you are tired, we can watch it again tomorrow.” She picked you up.

“Pwomise?” You gave her your puppy eyes.

“I promised.” She pecked your nose, earning a giggle from you.

You settled in her bed as you waited for her to shower and join you. You cuddled into her and drifted off to sleep.

You woke up feeling extremely weird, your muscles ached and your head was spinning a little. You kept your eyes closed as memories from the past days came back to you. The mission going wrong, you waking up in the med bay.

And then you remembered.

“Holy shit.” You whispered to yourself, careful not to wake Wanda.

You had spent the past week as a five year old. Every moment started to come back. You playing hide and seek with Sam and Bucky. That time you and Pietro showered Nat with glitter, and how she almost killed the boy later. Tony being a dad all the time, checking up if you needed anything and making funny faces to make you laugh. Steve carrying you around inside his shield.

And Wanda, always being there with you. Taking care of you. Watching the same movies all the time. Cuddling every night.

Your attention was caught by the woman stirring in bed next to you, still fast asleep. She had been so patient throughout the whole situation that you couldn’t help but smile.

You propped yourself up on one elbow, facing your girlfriend. You watched for a few minutes while she was fast asleep. Just appreciating how beautiful she was and how peaceful she looked. You were falling even more in love with her, if that was possible.

Not being able to hold yourself back any longer, you gave her a lingering kiss to her forehead, moving then to her cheek, leaving small pecks all the way. You then moved to her jaw and neck, inhaling her scent, as your free hand started to draw circles on her stomach.

You felt her breath changing, indicating she was no longer asleep and directed your lips to her ear.

“Good morning, my love,” you whispered softly, pecking her earlobe gently.

Her hands grabbed your cheeks and moved you up to face her, her expression one of full happiness.

“You’re back.” She whispered moments after, trying to convince herself that it was true.

“I’m back.” You leaned down to capture her lips in a long and passionate kiss, resting your forehead against hers’, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she moved so she could stare into your eyes, “I missed you.”

“Why? I was here the whole time.” You teased.

“You know what I mean.” Your smile grew as you leaned in again, your lips meeting in another gentle kiss.

“At least we learned two things from this experience,” she eyed you with curiosity, “first, is that no matter what I’ll always be in love with you,” you referred to the crush five year old you had on her, and enjoyed as her cheeks turned bright red, “and second, is that you are great with kids.”

“I am, aren’t I.”

You spent hours in bed, cuddling, kissing and laughing at your childish antics from the past week.

That’s when you knew, you would marry that girl.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #mcu #fluff #marvel

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morganaspendragonss · 2 years

Text

maybe it will turn out this time

finally posting my @911lsbb!!! i'm so excited for you all to read this 💚 it will be three chapters and they will be posted every two days. word counts and warnings will be in the separate posts for each individual chapter fic title and chapter titles from road to hell from the hadestown soundtrack

summary: Falling in love with TK Strand wasn't part of Carlos's five-year-plan. Falling in love with anyone wasn't part of his five-year-plan, but TK... He blew like a whirlwind into Carlos's life and brought him a happiness he couldn't have even dreamed of. But tragedy is never far around the corner, and when it strikes, that happiness feels like a distant memory. * orpheus and eurydice, with a tarlos twist art by the absolutely wonderful and talented @dangermagnetstrand here! ao3 | 5.2k | hadestown references, first meeting, developing relationship, non-linear narrative

banner by @maomarty-blog

chapter 01: it's a love song

TK wakes up to warm, strong arms holding him close to a firm chest. A lazy smile curls on his lips and he doesn’t bother to open his eyes, snuggling back further into the embrace instead. The grip tightens around him and lips press into his hair. TK doesn’t know how long it’s been since he was this happy.

Too long; weeks, months — or that’s what it feels like.

But, really, any time away from Carlos would be too long.

Carlos’s five-year plan is simple: work hard, establish himself in the department and in his captain’s eyes, and make (or at least start the process of making) detective. His friends like to mock him for it; they say he’s turning into a workaholic and he needs to lighten up, that he’s going to forget how to have fun.

It’s stupid. Carlos knows how to have fun. He’s just not interested in the type of fun his friends usually mean.

Carlos isn’t a relationship guy.

He used to be, or he could have been had his first real relationship not blown up rather spectacularly when the parents issue came up. He can’t be the one to start this conversation again, so they’re at an impasse, and it’s not an obstacle Carlos feels comfortable removing right now. The avoidance is even comforting, now; it means he can still pretend that things are okay.

Anyway, he figures that, while that’s the case, no guy is going to be willing to give him the time of day. And, sure, Carlos is open to being surprised. If love, somehow, appears in his life, and this guy, somehow, has no problem with Carlos’s ridiculous hang-ups, then he’ll happily eat his words.

He’s just not planning on it, is all.

He’s not planning (though he doesn’t know it yet) on TK Strand.

“I still don’t know how I let you talk me into this,” he grumbles, though he only makes a half-hearted attempt to get out of Lena’s grasp. His youngest-elder sister is famous in their family for always getting what she wants, and she can strong-arm anyone into anything. This was true of even their abuelo on their father’s side, who was a hard nut if one ever existed.

So it’s hardly surprising to Carlos that she’s succeeded in dragging him out to an open-mic night on his evening off, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“Stop whining, Carlitos,” Lena huffs, smirking as he rolls his eyes at the nickname. “No one ‘talked’ you into anything; you want to be here and I can tell.”

“I really don’t.”

“You really do.” She speeds up and Carlos has no choice but to let her drag him through the bar, lest he get swallowed by the crowd around them. Hopefully, he’ll be able to sneak out before it gets too late, but he’ll play along for now — at least that way she won’t be able to say he didn’t try.

An hour in, he’s seriously regretting that decision. Most of the singers are drunk and so out-of-tune that Carlos thinks his ears will be ringing for days, the beer is warm and overpriced, and Lena abandoned him at the table fifteen minutes ago to talk to a couple of friends she spotted.

Carlos would use that fact as an out, but she’d asked him to watch her drink and, as both a cop and her brother, he can’t in good conscience leave.

So he remains, sipping at bottom-of-the-barrel beer and fantasising about his bed. He’s barely aware of it when a hush starts to fall over the bar, too in his head and regretting his decisions to bother with this whole thing. It’s been fairly loud all night, most of the crowd not even really quieting for the performers.

Until now.

Now, the bar is near silent, with most turning toward the stage for the first time all night. It draws Carlos’s attention to the stage where a guy who looks to be about his age is just starting to sing. He’s attractive, Carlos won’t deny noticing it, with bright green eyes and a smile that could probably charm even the most hardened criminals into telling the truth. He actually looks kind of familiar, come to think of it, but all thoughts of the man’s identity are knocked from Carlos’s head as his voice starts to wash over the bar.

King of shadows,

King of shades…

Carlos stops focusing on the lyrics and lets himself be carried away by the mystery singer’s voice. It’s as though he’s put a spell over the bar; even the bartender has ceased polishing glasses and is staring at the man on the stage. The song has a haunting melody, beautiful and lilting, and, though he’d never even heard it before this moment, Carlos finds he can’t imagine it being sung by anybody else.

This song was made for him; he was made for it.

Maybe it’s the singer’s manner. His eyes are closed and there’s a small, private smile on his face, as though he’s forgotten he’s in front of an audience. He sways in time to the rhythm, his fingers moving expertly across the strings of his guitar. It’s this that captures Carlos’s attention the most — he doesn’t know why, but he finds himself lost in the moment. All he sees is those skilled hands; all he hears is that gentle voice and the beautiful notes of the song.

Then, suddenly, silence falls again.

It takes a moment for Carlos to pull himself out of his stupor, and by that point, the singer is already giving his thanks and walking off the stage. Someone else takes his place, and just like the flipping of a switch, everything goes back to how it was. Another out-of-tune voice fills the bar, loud shouts start to drown it out, and the crowd, so still a minute ago, is once again almost suffocating with how close the bodies press in.

Carlos isn’t entirely sure he didn’t dream the entire thing. He tries pinching his arm to check, but it turns out there’s no need; he’s very abruptly reminded of reality when Lena suddenly grabs his shoulders from behind, making him jump.

“Do you mind?” he demands, the grouch firmly back in place.

Lena just winks at him and leans to whisper in his ear. “Told you you’d like it here.”

His cheeks flame, but Lena is gone before he can get any stammered protests out.

He’s missed this.

It’s a strange thought to have, TK realises — he sees his husband almost every day, shifts allowing — but it’s true nonetheless. He’s missed watching Carlos bustle around the kitchen, whistling a soft little tune and juggling more pots and pans than the TK of a few years ago would have believed were needed for breakfast.

That’s the least of the things that have changed since he met Carlos; the TK of a few years ago would never have believed that one day he would have mornings like this in the home he shares with the love of his life — a man who accepts him for everything he is and isn’t.

The TK of a few years ago was more likely to end up dead in a ditch than with all of this.

But he does have this, and so TK takes a moment to bask in it, to soothe this strange feeling in his chest. He leans against the bedroom door frame, a small smile growing on his face as he watches Carlos, who is still oblivious to his presence.

The ache flares up again and TK rubs at it, but it just continues to grow, stealing his breath and sending a chill over him. TK closes his eyes and shakes his head, hoping it will knock this sudden sensation of wrongness from him, but it doesn’t work, and when he opens his eyes…

When he opens his eyes…

Carlos is gone.

He can’t get the singer out of his head.

Carlos doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. This isn’t him. He doesn’t fall in love with guys at first sight — fuck, he doesn’t even think be believes in love at first sight. But ever since he went to that bar with Lena, his thoughts have been filled with flashes of green eyes around every corner and soft strums of a guitar in every song.

And, speaking of songs, he can’t find the one the guy sang at the bar. It apparently doesn’t exist outside of those three minutes, which is not helping to dissuade him from his theory that he was hallucinating or dreaming or — or something.

Except, his heart lurches in a very real way every time he thinks about the stranger, and Carlos isn’t sure he could have dreamed up a guy like that.

Then, there is the fact that Lena is taking every opportunity to tease, which is something Carlos wishes he was dreaming. It’s inescapable; when she can’t get to him in person, she’s blowing up his phone in every way she knows how, asking how the ‘love of his life’ is doing and when the wedding will be.

Carlos tries to ignore her — this is generally the best tack to take with Lena. If he lets her see for a second that she might even be slightly right she’ll become unbearable.

It’s just a crush though, or that’s what it’s going to be. Austin may be a small town, but it isn’t that small; his chances of ever seeing the guy again are below zero, and his chances of talking to him are even lower.

It’s a thought that helps him in his quest to forget the singer. Though Carlos knows that haunting melody will stay with him for a long time yet, he can make his peace with this, at least, remaining a mystery.

Then the storm hits.

“Babe?”

TK blinks and Carlos is in front of him again. He gapes at him and blinks again, and again, finally reaching out to touch him. Carlos’s chest is solid under TK’s hand, just as it always has been, and it stays that way when TK collapses into him, his heart finally slowing from the rabbit’s pace that came when Carlos disappeared.

Carlos’s hands come up to hold TK, but there’s a hesitancy to them that belies the frown that must be on his face. “Babe?” he repeats, more worried this time. “Are you okay?”

TK nods into the crook of Carlos’s neck. “I am, now that you're back.”

“Back? When did I leave?”

TK pulls away, though he refuses to let go of Carlos just yet. There’s this feeling inside him, inexplicable, that if he moves away now, he’ll never see his husband again. That Carlos will vanish, and never return.

His silence is obviously worrying Carlos, so TK pastes a smile on and leans in to press a kiss to his cheek. It’s a stupid thought anyway; Carlos would never just leave him like that. That’s always been TK’s move.

“Nothing,” he says. “For a minute, I thought… It’s nothing. Guess I’m still half asleep.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow, so much fondness in his expression that it aggravates the ache. It’s like a longing, but it can’t be, because all TK longs for is right here in front of him.

“You do realise it’s nearly twelve, right?”

He shouldn’t be surprised. He’s never been an early riser on his days off, but Carlos’s words still catch him off guard. He could have sworn…

Carlos laughs and finally detaches TK from him, pulling him out of his thoughts. TK mourns the loss of contact, but he tries not to focus on just how deep that loss seems to feel, instead trailing after Carlos and instantly latching back on as soon as he stops in front of the stove.

“Clingy this morning, are we?”

TK isn’t sure himself what the mumble that escapes his mouth is supposed to mean, but Carlos doesn’t object when he holds on tighter.

TK relaxes into his husband, and he wishes they could stay this way forever.

Carlos keeps his hood up and his head ducked, shivering as cold drops of rain still manage to work their way underneath his clothes. The weather took a turn a few days ago, scorching hot sunshine suddenly becoming bullet-like rain and winds so strong it sometimes feels like he’s going to fall over.

He still has his job to do, of course, but fortunately his only job at this scene in particular is to keep the public and press back — something that’s a lot easier than normal; even Fox News doesn’t want to risk potentially losing a reporter for a bit of gossip. So Carlos is able to stand at the edge of the scene, mind on the warm coffee he has waiting for him back at the precinct, and feeling more than a little bit sorry for himself.

That is until Lexi grabs his shoulder and snaps him out of it, directing his attention to an argument that’s apparently broken out between a patient and one of the paramedics. He can’t hear what’s being said over the storm, but the body language is enough to know that the argument is heated and the patient is showing no signs of calming down.

The guy takes another step forward; the paramedic one back. Carlos groans — why can’t people just be grateful for their help — and strides forward, covering the distance as quickly as possible.

“Excuse me, sir,” he says, muscling his way between the paramedic and the patient. “Is there a problem here?”

“Yeah. Yeah, there is a damn problem.” The man glares around Carlos, presumably at where the paramedic is. “The problem is that this bastard is trying to force himself on me.”

Carlos raises a brow. “That’s quite a serious allegation, sir. Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m fucking sure! Ask him!”

He turns to the paramedic, who looks at him wearily and holds up a wad of now soaked gauze. “He cut himself on some glass; I was just trying to help.”

“And I told you no!” The man lunges forward again, causing Carlos to stumble a little bit as he tries to hold him back. The paramedic has backed off completely now, but Carlos feels no real need to pursue him; the concern radiating from him and the untreated gash he can now see on the patient’s arm indicate that he was telling the truth.

Not that the patient is doing much — or anything — to discredit him, either. He puts his full weight into Carlos, screaming about waste of my time and healthcare costs and anything else he can seem to think of. It takes a while, and a lot of self-control, to get the guy to listen to him, and by then Carlos is more drenched than he ever thought he could be, and thoroughly out of patience to boot.

He wants to just stomp off to the cruiser and get on with the miserable journey back, but he’s stopped quite literally in his tracks by a voice calling him.

“Officer! Hey, Officer!”

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, making sure a pleasant smile is on his face when he turns back around.

To find the paramedic he’d helped standing barely a foot from him, and Carlos feels like he’s been punched in the chest.

Because, it’s…

Well, it’s him.

It sounds ridiculous and clichéd, but Carlos knows it to be true anyway; he would recognise those eyes anywhere. They’ve been living in his mind for weeks, this pretty, sparkling green that he’s certain he’s never seen in any other person. The smile, too — gentle, but slightly crooked — is familiar, and suddenly it hits him like a bolt out of the blue.

Of course the singer at the bar had been familiar to him.

Carlos works with firehouses all around town, but the 126, which this paramedic clearly belongs to, is kind of a legend in Austin. Brought back from tragedy, spearheaded by a new, fancy captain, filled with transfers who all seem to individually attract more problems than entire firehouses put together.

Everyone knows who the 126 is.

Carlos isn’t really sure how he didn’t put the pieces together before, but he’s not given time to think on it. The paramedic — Strand, his chest patch reads — is starting to frown, probably a bit confused by the staring.

“Uh, Officer Reyes, right?” he says, laughing a little nervously. “I just wanted to thank you for what you did back there.”

Carlos blinks, mentally shaking himself. “Just doing my job.”

Strand smiles again, his gaze very obviously raking up and down Carlos’s body. “And doing it very well, if I may say so.”

He’ll deny this to anyone who asks; he’ll tell them it was just an effect of the cold. But, in reality, it’s Strand’s words that set off the hot flare on Carlos’s cheeks, making him suddenly feel like he’s burning up rather than standing in the middle of one of Austin’s worst thunderstorms in years.

“Um, I, ah—” He bites his lip and swallows — get it together, Reyes. “Happy to be of service.”

Because that sounded completely normal and not at all like he’d been strangled.

Whatever Strand was looking for earlier, he seems to have found it; he grins widely and reaches out to lightly touch Carlos’s arm.

The shiver that runs through him at that action is just yet another effect of the cold. Or so he’ll say.

“Yeah,” Strand says, so quiet that Carlos swears he shouldn’t be able to hear it. “I’m TK, by the way. Maybe I’ll see you around, Reyes.”

Then, he gives Carlos one last grin and heads back to the ambulance, shaking himself like a wet dog before climbing into the driver’s seat.

It doesn’t occur to Carlos until the sirens are well off in the distance that he never gave TK his own name.

It’s ridiculous how quickly his crush grows from there. Carlos tries to remind himself that a relationship is not what he’s looking for, that he needs to be focusing on his career rather than an attractive guy who has the gift of charm and knows how to use it.

Unfortunately, the TK Strand living in his brain doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“What is wrong with you?” Lena demands, slumping down next to him on the sofa and smacking his shoulder.

They’re at Tía Lucy’s for the weekly Sunday dinner, and while Carlos normally enjoys these gatherings, it’s hard to be fully present when he can’t stop thinking about the glimpse he’d caught of TK yesterday. He’d been wearing his long-sleeved uniform shirt which looked too good to be real, and he was smiling and nodding along as the little girl he was treating rambled on at him.

It had been painfully endearing, but maybe Carlos could have dealt with it if it hadn’t been for the Look.

The girl apparently hadn’t needed a hospital, so when TK was done with her, she’d danced happily off to her mother. Not wanting to be caught staring, Carlos tried to pull his gaze away, but he hadn’t been quick enough. His eyes locked with TK’s, and he’d watched as a downright sinful smirk crept onto TK’s face, followed by a wink that set Carlos’s cheeks — and several other body parts — ablaze.

But explaining all that to Lena would be a serious mistake, so he just shrugs, keeping his gaze fixed on the TV, though he doesn’t know for the life of him what the show is.

“Nothing’s up,” he says, but even he can tell that he doesn’t sound convincing.

Lena huffs. “Carlossssss,” she whines, like the dog with a bone that she is. “You’ve been acting weird for ages, and as your older sister I have a right to know why.”

“No, you don’t,” he corrects, but because Carlos knows she won’t let it go, he continues, “It’s just work stuff; you wouldn’t care.”

“Wrong.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow at her; it’s well-documented in their family that Lena does not and will not — in her words — give a singular shit about any part of her brother’s or father’s line of work. “So you suddenly care about my job now?”

“What? No.” She pulls a disgusted face, looking briefly offended that Carlos would even suggest that, before her expression returns to one of determination. “I meant, you’re obviously lying about it being about work. You always get really boring and serious whenever it’s that — more than usual, anyway — but now you just look kind of constipated.”

“Do not.”

“Do so.” Suddenly, Lena grins in a way Carlos definitely doesn’t like and leans in conspiratorially. “Is it about a boy?”

“And we’re done here.”

Carlos gets up, intending to remove himself as far away from his sister as he can — which is his next mistake.

“Oh my god, it is!” Lena shrieks, loud enough that it catches the attention of several other family members in the room. Thankfully, none of them are their parents and none of them seem inclined to carry on listening, but it still makes Carlos’s heart skip a beat in panic. He glares at his sister, and for once she actually looks contrite. She stands and follows him to the front porch, away from everyone else.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “You know I’d never—”

“I know,” he interrupts, smiling weakly in her direction. “Just, can you please drop this now?”

“Nope,” she says, because of course she does. “I won’t say anything in there, but you owe me more deets. Who is he? Where did you meet? What does he look like? Is he hot? When can I meet him?”

Carlos whips around, and he takes great pleasure in her indignation when he returns the smack from earlier. “Nobody’s meeting anybody,” he says firmly. “It’s just… It’s a stupid crush, alright? Nothing’s going to happen except for me getting over it.”

Lena nods at him, eyebrows raised condescendingly. “Mm-hmm, sure you will.” Then, at Carlos’s hard look, she sighs dramatically and flings her head back. “Come on, Carlos. Are you telling me you’re not going to even try to make a move?”

“I don’t need a relationship right now, Lena.”

“Okay?” She shakes her head at him, eyes wide with disbelief. “You don’t have to have one. Ever heard of friends with benefits? Or even just benefits, I mean, I don’t judge… Where are you going?”

Carlos doesn’t dignify her with a reply as he walks back into the house. He makes sure to spend the rest of the day away from Lena, and ignores all her glares and annoyed text messages, but it’s harder to ignore the thoughts she’s put in his head.

After all… What would really be the harm?

They’re curled up together on the couch, music playing softly in the background, when TK hears a soft chuckle come from above him.

He cranes his neck to look at Carlos’s face, unable to keep from smiling at the fond look on his husband’s face. “What?”

Carlos sighs softly, almost wistfully, and kisses the top of TK’s head. “I was just thinking about that night at the open-mic.”

TK’s grin widens — the night in question doesn’t need specifying. It was the beginning of their relationship after all: the night that TK spotted Carlos in the crowd at the bar and went over to talk to him after his performance.

One thing led to another, and TK woke up the next morning in a bed that was not his own with a real life Adonis snoring softly next to him. He had taken his time that morning to gaze over every visible inch of Carlos’s body — whose name he had finally found out in a breathy whisper as they made out in the bar’s bathroom — trying to commit it to memory. Probably a bit creepy in hindsight, but at the time TK was convinced that it would just be a one-time thing.

He had no idea he was lying right next to his future husband.

“That was a good night,” he says, settling his weight further back into Carlos. “The best.”

But then Carlos shifts upright, forcing TK to move from where he was actually very comfortable, thanks very much. He glares at Carlos, only to be met with a matching, albeit playful, one directed straight back at him.

“Five years together and our first night is still the best one for you?”

“Well.” TK pretends to consider and laughs at the mock offended look Carlos sends him. “Top five at least.”

Carlos huffs, but there’s a grin creeping across his face. He suddenly pulls TK back on top of him, hugging him tight, with an intensity that suggests it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do so. TK makes a noise of surprise, but when he’s recovered, he shifts to face Carlos and returns the hug, burying his head in his shoulder.

“This is nice,” he mumbles, eyes drifting shut. Carlos’s hand ghosts over his back softly — almost imperceptibly so.

“I just love you,” Carlos whispers, so quiet that TK struggles to hear him despite how close they are. “I always will, no matter what you choose.”

He doesn’t know how he got here.

Carlos is clearing out some drawer space and he doesn’t know how he got here.

It was supposed to be a hookup.

It was supposed to be a single night of fun, and now Carlos is clearing out a drawer for the boyfriend he somehow acquired along the way. The boyfriend who is sweet and kind and has the prettiest green eyes and the most amazing voice, and who didn’t even run when Carlos messed things up with his parents.

Or, well. The boyfriend who had run, but who also came back.

A drawer doesn’t really feel like enough for the man who is in Carlos’s home more often than not, but it’s only been a few months since they started dating seriously. And it’s not like there haven’t been bumps along the way; first his parents, then TK had confided in Carlos about his addiction, which had taken a while for him to fully understand, and things haven’t…

Objectively, logically, Carlos knows things haven’t been perfect.

But, oh, they have.

He never realised how lonely he was before TK entered his life. Sure, he had friends and he went out occasionally, but his mind was always elsewhere, always on the next thing, always on the job and how he can do better, be better.

Then he brought a hot paramedic-singer home with him, and suddenly found himself with a whole other family.

TK’s friends are loud and every bit as much trouble as their reputation says, and they immediately adopt Carlos into the fold. Sometimes, it’s hard to remember that they were TK’s friends first; Paul has a habit of stopping by occasionally with food and seems to know everything about Carlos, despite Carlos being fairly sure he never explicitly told Paul half of it.

Mateo instantly takes on the role of the younger brother Carlos never had and his exuberance is infectious wherever he goes. Marjan and Nancy are both slightly intimidating at first, but they drop the act pretty quickly; Nancy actually ends up becoming one of his best friends.

It’s during one of their now weekly game nights that it strikes him how different his life is to a few months ago. And then the second realisation — he loves it.

Carlos always thought he liked his life as it was. He didn’t think he was missing anything or needed more than what he had. But now he has a whole other family, and a boyfriend his parents love, and a half-empty drawer in his bedroom that he’s already thinking about turning into half a closet.

And he’s happy.

TK Strand came into his life in a whirlwind, and, for once, Carlos is content to let himself get carried away by it.

But the thing about whirlwinds is, if you’re not careful, they might become a tornado.

He tries not to let Carlos’s comment get to him. Something about this whole day has felt off, almost like it’s… Well, like it’s too perfect. TK doesn’t even know what time it is; there are no clocks in sight and he can’t find either of their phones or watches anywhere. Carlos said it was noon when he woke up, but it’s like the sun hasn’t so much as twitched since then, like time has stopped completely. And Carlos is just… He’s too perfect, too. Unsettlingly so.

Of course, if anyone asked TK, he would immediately say that Carlos is the perfect man. It wouldn’t be a lie either because he is perfect for TK, but the Carlos he has before him now isn’t his Carlos.

He smiles the same and walks the same and his body feels the same as it always has, but there’s something nagging at TK, telling him that all of this is too good to be true. Even the loft feels wrong somehow.

“Babe?” he says quietly, because the knot of anxiety in his chest telling him that this isn’t where he’s supposed to be is too great to ignore, even as his brain screams at him to let things be. “Is everything… Are we…” He huffs, frustrated; he’s never been the best at articulating his feelings, but this time it’s just impossible.

Literally — every time TK tries to come up with the words, he draws a complete blank.

Carlos frowns. “Are we what?” he asks, his voice so soft and caring and Carlos that TK almost tells him it’s nothing.

The word is halfway out of his mouth, in fact, when he manages to catch himself. “I don’t… Is there something we’re supposed to do today? I feel like I’ve forgotten something.”

Carlos’s face clears and he smiles sympathetically, as if this is a regular occurrence for them. And, okay, TK will admit that he does have a slight tendency to be forgetful, but he’s not this bad, right?

“You haven’t forgotten anything,” Carlos soothes — soothes? — as he strokes TK’s cheek. He must read the confusion on TK’s face as something else, because he follows up with, “Don’t be embarrassed, the doctor said memory loss was to be expected, remember? It’s okay.”

If Carlos says anything else, TK doesn’t hear it. A wave of static fills his senses and he feels suddenly off balance, like the loft is literally disintegrating around him. He pushes away from Carlos’s embrace and lurches to his feet, breathing heavily as he tries to centre himself again.

“What are you talking about?” he gasps. “Doctor…memory loss…what… What is this?”

He searches his memories for something that could explain this, but again and again he comes up empty. He can’t remember anything. And it’s not that he doesn’t have memories — he remembers his life in broad strokes, he remembers meeting Carlos and their wedding day and the last vacation they went on — but yesterday, last week, last month, even, is entirely a blank.

He doesn’t remember anything.

“Tyler,” a voice says, Carlos’s he thinks, but he’s suddenly not sure because a cacophony of beeping has started in his brain and there’s yelling coming from somewhere and hands grabbing him and—

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snelbz · 3 years

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Life As We Know It {Chapter Five}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta’s time for mourning was up.

As she pulled into Elain’s driveway, reality set in. It would be her first day back at the restaurant since the accident, since her life was thrown completely upside down.

She wasn’t ready

But, she had no choice.

Elain was already smiling when she opened the door, reaching out to take Nyx. “Hi, my baby! Aunt Lainy and Seph are so excited to spend the day with you, yes we are.”

“I’m glad, because Aunt Nesta isn’t so excited to not be spending the day with him,” she said, sighing.

Elain gave her sister a wistful look. “I get that. How about Cass, how did he feel going back to work last night?”

Nesta snorted. “Don’t know. He never came back. They started inventory around two this morning after last call, according to the short text I woke up to. He says he’ll be there for most of the day.”

Elain lifted a brow. “Wow.”

Nesta blinked. “He’s a bartender, what do you expect?”

“No,” Elain chuckled. “I meant: wow, looks like you two are actually communicating. I’m shocked.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “We’ve been living together for three days. If we weren’t communicating, what exactly would we be doing instead?”

Elain carried Nyx into the living room, sitting him down in the playpen she’d set up in the corner. “I mean, honestly, Az and I just figured you were pretending each other didn’t exist.”

For all intents and purposes, they had been, but they had made sure to talk about important things. Like whether Nyx had been fed, when he needed to go down for his nap and what the schedule for the next day would look like.

To be totally honest, she hadn’t even realized Cassian had her number until she’d woken up to a text from one she didn’t have saved in her phone.

“We’re…adjusting,” she finally said, watching as Nyx crawled over to the pile of toys in the corner of the playpen. “I gave him a bath last night, and he said he would handle the next one, since he had to go to work. But… Gods, Elain, giving a one-year-old a bath is exhausting. I looked like I’d just left the pool, not to mention the entire bathroom was soaked.”

Elain chuckled and shook her head. “Seph loves baths, but we’re still having them in the sink right now. She’s not quite ready for the bathtub yet.”

The baby in question was asleep in a bouncer, resting on the floor by the couch.

Nesta glanced at her watch, whatever reply she had falling from her lips. “Shit, I have to go, I’ll be late.”

“Go,” Elain said, wrapping her sister up in a hug. “The day will fly by and you’ll be home with Nyx before you know it.”

Nesta nodded, even though her core was filled with dread.

Nonetheless, she was across town in fifteen minutes, hurrying into the café just before nine. She tossed her purse behind her desk after she unlocked the door to her office and looked around, only to find everything exactly where she had left it.

With a sigh, she pulled a bottle of water out of her mini-fridge, only to find it completely warm. They must have unplugged it when they were cleaning. It wouldn’t be the first time.

She didn’t have time to think on it too much, though, because there was a knock on her office door, her manager’s voice calling her name through the wood.

Her first day back had officially begun.

Cassian was exhausted.

For the past couple hours, he felt like he was lost somewhere in a dream. Now, as he continued to stare at the shelves of liquor in the back room, he debated curling up in the corner and falling asleep.

He’d messed up so many drink orders the night before, worrying about whether Nyx was okay or if Nesta had forgotten to do anything for him. He knew Nesta was perfectly capable of taking care of Nyx, had been doing so since Rhys and Feyre had died. But he still worried about him constantly.

He yawned as he shoved a box of tequila up onto the top shelf, turning to see how much was left.

Only to find the store room empty of boxes. He let over a relieved sigh, pulling out his phone.

10:37

He knew the opener would be in at eleven, a shift that was usually his, but as the manager, he preferred to ensure inventory was done correctly, and with such a big shipment, thanks to his unexpected time off, he told them he would work the night before.

His feet damn near shuffling across the floor, he made his way into the office and sat down at the desk, to wait for Kallias. He didn’t see a reason to lock the place up when Kal would be here five minutes later to start setting up.

He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he heard a knocking on the office door and sat up quickly, his feet falling from where he’d propped them on top of the desk.

Cassian found Kallias standing in the doorway, a small smirk on his lips. “Baby keeping you up at night already?”

He yawned, dragging a hand down his face. “No. Well, sometimes, but not this time. Didn’t finish inventory until about fifteen minutes ago.”

Kallias whistled. “Damn. You should’ve called. I would’ve come help.” Cassian shrugged. “No use having both of us exhausted.”

Kallias just shook his head. “If you say so. Go home, Cass. Get some sleep. I’ve got everything under control.”

Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. He stood, clapped Kallias on the shoulder, and walked out to the parking lot. After hopping into his truck, Cassian dozed off.

And six hours later, he woke up, his head against his steering wall, his neck hurting like hell, and his chin glistening with his slobber.

It wasn’t an attractive sight.

After a curse, he looked at the clock on the dash, and swore again.

It was just after five.

The truck was in gear and he was speeding home seconds later. When he rounded the corner, Nesta’s car was already in the driveway.

He parked beside her, hopping out and hurrying to the back door. When he threw it open, he found her standing at the stove, stirring something in a pan. It smelled delicious.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, collapsing in the nearest chair at the kitchen table, his head dropped into his hands in exhaustion. Even after his impromptu nap in the truck, he still felt like he needed another eight hours sleep. “Inventory took way longer than usual and then I passed out in the truck.” He shook his head, letting his obvious exhaustion explain the rest to her.

“It’s fine.”

He looked up and glanced at her stiff back. She hadn’t turned back to look at him, was completely focused on whatever she cooked on the stove.

Her tone said it absolutely was not fine.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I’d been awake for over twenty-six hours.”

“Elain had to reschedule a shoot with a client tonight. She was expecting you to come pick up Nyx after you got off and got some sleep.”

He cringed. Nesta had texted him around ten, while he was still focused on inventory, asking him to get Nyx from Elain before three. He didn’t ask why, had honestly forgotten she’d even texted him.

“I’ll call her later, I’ll apologize,” he sighed.

Nesta turned abruptly and tossed the towel she was using to hold the warm handle on the counter. She was pissed, he’d seen that look in her eyes more than once. “I get that you worked and you were tired, but you have to be more responsible, Cassian.”

“I said I was fucking sorry,” he said, standing. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep in my truck, but I did. I’m fucking sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, but turned back to the stove.

Cassian scoffed, and was nearly ready to bite her head off, but then Nyx’s soft cries came from the living room.

“He fell asleep in the pack and play,” Nesta said, continuing to stir what she had on the stove.

Cassian took that as his dismissal. He hurried into the living room and picked up Nyx, who was standing up in his pack and play, gripping the edge. When he saw Cassian, his hands shot straight in the air.

“Hey buddy,” he said, quietly, as he lifted Nyx out of his pack and play. Nyx instantly relaxed in his arms, laying his head on Cassian’s shoulder.

“He’s probably hungry,” Nesta said, as the boys made their way back into the kitchen.

“I’m aware,” Cassian snapped.

Nesta’s shoulders tensed.

Cassian said nothing more as he opened the fridge and took out some leftover mashed potatoes, Nyx’s favorite.

“He should have some kind of protein with that,” Nesta said, her back still to them.

Cassian spun around, exasperated. “Shit, anything else you’d like to add?”

She said nothing, pretending he didn’t even speak. Cassian didn’t say anything else, but he fixed him a bottle, and set Nyx in his high chair. As Cassian shook it, Nyx held out his hands, reaching for it. He gave it to him, turning to the microwave to heat up the potatoes.

He heard plates being set down at the table and found Nesta setting two plates full of stir fry on the table.

He hesitated, but moved Nyx’s high chair closer to the table. He took the already empty bottle from him and got a small spoonful of potatoes for him. He quietly said, “You didn’t need to cook for me,” as he fed Nyx.

“I made too much,” she replied, simply, sitting across from him. She didn’t meet his eyes as she took a bite.

He watched as her eyelashes fluttered in satisfaction.

As Nyx grabbed his bowl from the end of his high chair and stuck his face into it, Cassian looked down at his own plate, at the steak, broccoli, peppers, peeled carrots, and snap peas that sat before him.

It smelled delicious.

He hesitantly took a bite as Nyx clapped his hands and began to babble.

“Afraid I may poison you?” Nesta asked.

Cassian blinked, meeting her eyes. They remained like that for a moment, staring at one another, then Cassian took another bite. “It’s good. Thanks.”

“I made too much,” she repeated. “Cut Nyx up some of the steak. It’s tender enough for him to eat, just make sure the pieces are tiny. The broccoli, too. He likes broccoli.”

Cassian did as he was told without a word. He set the food in front of Nyx, who instantly had his chubby little hands on them.

“Don’t think I’ll be cooking every night,” Nesta said, in the middle of their otherwise silent meal.

“I wouldn’t think of it,” Cassian said, then cleared his throat. “I can cook sometimes, too. I’m not bad in the kitchen.” A look crossed Nesta’s face that said she didn’t quite believe that statement.

“I make a mean breakfast,” he said, after chewing through another bite. “I’ll show you. We’ll do breakfast for dinner one night.”

Nesta nodded, but Cassian couldn’t tell if that was confirmation or just agreeing to shut him up. After a minute, she set down her fork and cleared her throat. “Speaking of breakfast, I’d prefer to not share the table with any friends you may bring home.”

Cassian’s brows lowered, not fully understanding. And then what she was saying clicked and he was coughing around the bite of food he’d been swallowing. He drank from the glass of water he’d grabbed, and cleared his throat, ensuring he could breathe. “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

“If I live here, it is my concern,” she said, going right back to eating, as if she hadn’t just brought up an extremely unexpected topic. “I don’t want Nyx to see a revolving door of women leaving either, he doesn’t need to get the wrong idea.”

Cassian could only stare at her, though when Nyx heard his name, he paused his eating to look up at her. He finally said, “He’s one, first of all, so he has no idea what that would even mean, and secondly, I can have whoever the hell I want here, and they can stay for breakfast. I live here, too.”

“Would you care to see an endless string of men coming out of my bedroom every morning?” Nesta asked, her tone light, but her eyes full of hellfire.

Cassian’s chewing slowed. No, he wouldn’t care to see that, but he’d never admit it. He wasn’t even one to bring women home...well, at least not often, but apparently she thought of him as some unhinged casanova.

“As long as you ask me to join, I don’t care who you bring home,” Cassian said.

Now it was Nesta’s turn to choke on the bite of steak she just took. Her cheeks turned a bright shade of red as her eyes watered. After catching her breath and taking a long drink of water, she said, “That’s inappropriate.”

Nyx giggled, his lips covered in mashed potatoes, as if Nesta had just said the most hilarious thing in the world.

He took one last bite of his food before standing and carrying his plate over to the sink. “You don’t bring up my sex life and I won’t bring up yours. Deal?”

“Fine,” she said, picking up her plate as well and dropping it next to his on the counter. “You take care of the dishes, I’ll give Nyx his bath.”

“Fine.” That seemed to be their word to end conversations, as most of them ended with one of them snapping the word at the other, and it being repeated right back to them.

He wanted to fling more insults at her, wanted to snap that he wasn’t the man-whore she apparently thought he was. He never had been, despite the obscene amount of those stupid condoms she’d seen in his glove box all those years ago. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him.

He heard her unclipping Nyx’s high chair and then she was carrying him upstairs. Cassian was already wrist deep in soapy water when he heard the bathtub running from upstairs.

It was then that he realized he had originally told Nesta that he would give Nyx a bath tonight.

He didn’t pick him up from Elain’s.

He didn’t give him a bath like he said he would.

Maybe Nesta was right.

Maybe he was just setting himself up for failure.

As he scrubbed at the dishes, Cassian felt that sense of failure wash over him and sent a thought to Rhysand, wherever he was, hoping that his oldest friend wasn’t as disappointed in him as he was.

#snacmc lawki #life as we know it #nessian #nesta archeron #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #cassian #snacmc

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lwt28brave · 3 years

Text

LT2 masterpost

If it was up to me, we would get an autumn or winter EP. Since it’s not up to me at all, here, enjoy this post with everything we know so far of LT2, which is to say, not much at all. Everything here is hypothetical. I’ll be updating every time I see something relevant. A little disclaimer that while this is a masterpost (kinda), it could be read as discourse (duh, it’s also a theory), AND it’s also by me, and you shouldn’t expect me to be serious at this point.

Due to me restraining myself, there’s no reference to any of the times he’s mentioned his guitar skills and him improving but I hope you know I cried every single time.

I’m also linking my old pinned here. It was written before AFHF and around the free merch thing that didn’t lead to much, but I still think I made some good points.

Possible tracks:

Copy of a Copy of a Copy

Change

Faith in the future??

369??

Possible names:

369

Faith in the future

When is the album coming out?

Your guess is as good as mine

Friday 28th of January 2022. Almost two years after Walls. It’s a Friday. It’s a 28th. What else can I say?

Here you can find @want-to-be-loved timelines for every month.

Here you can find @berlinini’s timeline of what Louis has been up to this year (2021).

The rest is under the cut. And here you can find a PDF version where Tumblr can't tell me how many pictures I can add.

2020

He said back on May 2th 2020 he wasn’t writing anything new yet.

(x)(x)(x)

Interestingly enough, he’s said many times after that that the album’s not ready cause he has no new experiences to drawn from. I won’t call him out because he does it himself.

May 4th. He liked a tweet from DMA’s Johnny Took saying they had to go write together again. Louis has been credited as an influence for them and (kind of) participated in their previous record, so I’m assuming he meant for their music and not his, but you never know.

Nothing(literally nothing??? how did we survive) until 11th of July. We all know what happened that day. We all celebrated it. Nonetheless, that’s not what I’m talking about here.

(x) So, by the beginning of July 2020 he was working on concepts and ideas for the new album. That was fifteen months ago. I know perfection takes time but…

Brief summary of important things that happened from then until the next mention of new music:

Louis left Syco!!!! 10 days later he rescheduled the tour for the first time. He followed Matt Vines on Twitter, probably so we could publicly shame him into doing something. Also, the 10thanniversary. He followed more people I wish he hadn’t.

Then more nothing until September. Not even a single tweet. The first merch drop was on the 28th of August but he just RT’ed the tweet. He first mentioned Free my Meal on the 25th of September. Then on October 1st Walls hit #1 on a lot of countries and Louis was incredibly happy and excited about it ^^

And then, that same day, October 1st, 2020, he dropped this bomb:

(x)

He also said it was too soon to be sharing new lyrics with us (x)

And, obviously, this tweet which is actually what made me start this whole post. I would hope you know mate.

(x)

He also told us he was cooking "banger after banger" and that he was incorporating more social themes into his music (x)(x) (I believe any social issue is a political issue but that’s not the point rn).

COPY OF A COPY OF A COPY?!?!

These next paragraphs are brought to you by my mind not remembering things and me not having any links. I’m assuming COACOAC came from those writing sessions that supposedly happened in October. Or in LA but I have no idea if he actually was in LA at any point other than a Daily Mail article putting him there on December which would have been too late, but I do remember that someone said he was in the studio in LA last autumn???? A rumor. Maybe. IDK. Did I mention already all of this is very hypothetical?? Well, this is it. I can’t even remember if this was October or November or what. So, take this with a grain of salt.

I’m also… taking the liberty to assume, if you must, that Copy wasn’t meant to be a Walls reject because it sounds more mature and darker and it has a vastly different tone that Walls songs. I know he’s said that song probably isn’t getting into the album, but I want to have faith (in the future) that I’m getting a studio version. (But also, Louis, if you’re reading this, first of all GET OUT OF MY BLOG second of all, please don’t ever feel pressured again to add a song to the album because we have already heard it before. It’s your art and it should always be under your own terms).

So yeah, I believe that Copy is either one of those four songs (then imagine the other three??!!) or was written around the 1st of October date.

---End of the Intermission---

Then not much important (other than sharing more about Marcus Rashford fight against food poverty and the 2nd merch drop) until he announced the livestream on the 24th of November. (x)

It wasn’t until a few days before the livestream date we even thought again about new music (jk, I know we’re always thinking about new Louis’ music). So, December 9th/10th, 2020. Nine months ago. We got our first taste of new music!

He made sure we knew Copy of a Copy of a Copy isn't a cover! (x) (x)

(x)

Ok, so that’s it for 2020. (I feel like I’m missing something from September 17th because tweet was deleted but maybe he was still talking about cucumbers. We might never know. Unless I understand how Tumblr tags work). Expected, cause Walls was released in 2020. We needed to let it sit for a while.

2021

Another Summary: Louis third tweet of the year was telling the UK government off. So was the fifth. What a good beginning. On the 26th of January, he said he prefers pancakes over waffles. I hope he meant pancakes other than his own. More importantly, he tweeted the infamous “you lot read into things too much”. Don’t get me started, Tomlinson. Don’t. Then the 31st came around and Walls was one. He tweeted this. How wise. And Project Defenceless happened!!

15th of February!! Who cares about Valentine Day when the next day we got this? ♥

(x)

So…AN EP?? AN EP?? PLEASE RELEASE AN EP.

“I’m sure I will have something out this year but unlikely that will be the album”. Unlikely but not impossible. Also. A single would be good. This is the second time he mentions releasing something in 2021 and he sounds surer about it than the first time around.

He also said that he isn’t sure we will get a studio version of Copy. And that the best bridges from Walls to LT2 are Walls, OTB, KMM and Copy. Can’t wait!

Then we jump to March 6th when he announced he was going to create his own management company. “Sometimes action is needed first to encourage the motivation and belief”. As we can tell he was already manifesting some stuff which will lead us to the numerology stuff/Tesla… kidding. Or not. We might never know.

On the 22nd of March he answered some questions:

He told us music was still his main focus ♥ mwha. (x) I included this tweet to guilt-trip him into giving us music in case he’s reading this even after I told him to leave. ILY.

(x) I’d love to get a visual EP this autumn. Just saying. It sounds like a lovely concept.

(x)

…next (I will get into it, I promise. I’m just mad).

On the 25th he left for Mexico until April 10th. You could assume it was just for the documentary where we got ten seconds of footage or admit the obvious: LT2 its a Mexican baby!!

On the 26th (so, not so far apart from that first 369) we got the first Faith in the Future mention: (x)

Back then we were innocent people who had no idea what was coming upon us. We still have no idea because what the fuck does he mean with these. Please explain. I have one braincell and I don’t use it enough for this. I’m linking some theories.

On the 30th of March he confirmed he was already working on the documentary. So AFHF was already on the works. Will it take this long for us to get the Veeps numbers? We also got this tweet: "Got a decent chorus idea down" (x).

Same person that got the “something out this year” exclusive. If you know something share with the class. Also. Is this Change? I feel like this could be Change but I also assume he wrote Change after hanging out with his friends or being in Doncaster. But who knows.

(x) And the second mention to 369.

(x) 15th of April. The second "Faith in the future".

On the 19th of April he announced that he had something BIG for us later on the year which turned out to be the Away From Home Festival ♥♥ (x) I love him so much.

Then on the 28th he announced the 369 merch drop (which it’s probably the Walls drop? Except that the TOU and KMM ones were “drop 1 and drop 2” and this was drop 369 which, again, makes no sense) but we still don’t know what 369 means.

Into May’ 21 we go.

He rescheduled tour again. And dropped another bomb (x).

He announced he has signed with BMG as an independent artist by RTing this tweet on May 10th. The article also says that he’s already working on writing and recording LT2. The timing… we don’t know. What this deal involves… we don’t know either. Bear with me here because I have a lot to say about this.

I think the deal is only a distribution one, but that BMG are interested in Louis and what he (us) could bring to the table. They were either present at the festival or watching it, but officially they had no involvement at all with it (everything is credited either to Louis own company, 78 Productions, or Charlie Lightening’s company). That’s the case for both giveaways too; the vinyl one and the tickets for the festival.

I think it would be an unbelievably bad move not to test the waters with BMG now or soon-ish. At least a single, to see how it performs. Due to the circumstances, it’s obvious there’re certain limitations on place but I want to see how they push it, whether the radio play exist this time around and if the song is playlisted and promoted and all that… I would also love to know, since it says he signed with BMG UK, but it also states it’s a global deal, how things are going to go on the US and other countries.

Yes, yes. I know those are all questions and no answers. But I know the same as you, sadly. If any of you know more than you’re letting on… again, share with the class.

Where was I? Yes, on the 25th of May Louis had a great day writing (x). Since the first time he had mentioned he was officially writing to this date there’s almost eight months. And I believe he was writing before October’ 20.

He followed Robert Harvey that day and, on the 28th of May (why is it always the 28th???) he was spotted at the studio for the first time.

June was an interesting month for the fandom ♥. Lots of LHL content which I will love and cherish for the rest of times. On June 4th, June 9th, and June 10th he was spotted at the studio, but I believe he was there more days.

(x)

This was posted on June 6th and captioned Studio. Charlie also shared it with “Mega tunes being put down, can’t wait for this @louist91 #louistomlinson #LT2” as the caption. This gives me 2019 (Elton-Joint) vibes. I like it. Feels like we’re getting closer to something.

He added the Milano date on the 9th too which I’m mentioning because I’m going alone. Anyone wanna go with me please? I’m nice and I never eat anything before a concert so you can have my food. On other news. It didn’t come home.

During July he was at the studio at least three days too. Probably more. Feels like more with all the fan pictures we got. Or was that June? Anyway, July 1st and 9th we got some videos from Robert Harvey and wearesuperhi, which is who Louis has been working with the most, that we know of. I don’t know for sure they’re from that day. And on July 5th we got an article and lots of pictures of Louis looking really good outside the studio.

On the 12th of July the first fans started getting the free, 369 bucket hat and print. We still don’t know what the purpose was other than to thanks fans. Maybe that was it. I want answers and I still think it relates to a future project (see theories above), but it could also just be a bridge with the Walls breaking.

He didn’t tweet about anything interesting for a while, mostly because he lost his phone (he either throwed it in the air or smashed it who knows). Then on the 29th of July he announced the festival!

I’m glossing over it because there’s already been a lot of talk about it (rightfully) and while it was a wonderful thing, it doesn’t have much to do with LT2.

Let’s talk Change!

On August 3rd he tweeted this about the setlist.

(x)

And this (x) on the 28th! I can’t stand him.

We didn’t get it, obviously. Because who was going to get that. But we read too much into things. Alright.

On the 16thof August Dave Gibson shared this post tagged #LT2 with the eyes emojis 👀👀👀. I believe this has to do both with Change but also with whatever else came out of that Mexico trip.

(x) Last relevant tweet related to LT2 is this one.

So, on the 30th of August we got Change and we cried, and we know that Change is going in the new album. He said it. With those exact words. He also said he was “getting a feeling for it”. This has to meant he already has a general idea of the vibe of the new album and what’s going in it!!!!!! (Right? RIGHT?).

Anyway, let’s go back a few weeks because some other things happened on August. He was at the studio a few more times. Or it was suggested that he was there. On the 17th and the 18th. (Why was it so time-pressing to be at the studio instead of rehearsing for the festival? There was no studio at all on the documentary. Which makes sense, but again, then why?).

On the day of the festival we got another mention of Faith in The Future that made me feel part of a cult ngl. The words were flashing on the screen for less than a second. Okay.

And then he tweeted those words again after watching the livestream/documentary on the 4th of September (x). This is what makes me suspect it's either the name of the album or of the single.

On the same day, we got some interesting quotes about LT2 on the documentary.

“Soon I’ll have to think about me second album, which in my head I’ll get the tour out of the way and then I’ll address that. So, I hadn’t really given it much thought, to be honest”.

“When every day is the same is hard to feel creative and it’s hard to have any kind of proper inspiration”.

“As season started to come back, I started writing again and it was great and some of these songs turned out alright”.

And I think this is it. I might be overlooking some important details but that’s what we know and what we don’t know.

So. Conclusions. That’s what you missed on Glee. I do believe the album is, if not mostly done, partially there. And yes, this post is pointless and never-ending but it’s all in here if you need to tell Louis “Hey, you said this, mate”.

#LT2 #Louis Tomlinson #Faith in The future #369 #Louis #LT #new music #idk what this is #but it's long #pinned

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