#pardon my lack of knowledge on how to cook things

[hartigays]

ooh if you’re still doing the fluff/angst prompts could you do 14 + harringrove? I love your writing and you could do something amazing with this 🖤

14. “Get your hands off of me!”

“harrington, what the hell are you doing?”

steve doesn’t answer, not bothering to look up. he’s focused intently on the row of dominos that he’s carefully setting up, his tongue poking out and his brow furrowed in concentration.

“voilà!” steve shouts, finally getting the last domino in place. he claps his hands and rubs them together in anticipation.

billy arches a brow, giving steve a bored look. but steve doesn’t pay him any mind, just tiptoes carefully over the dominos weaving around the living room of their apartment, kneeling down and counting backwards from three before setting them in motion.

it takes all of thirty seconds for the carefully constructed line to fall, but steve still looks at billy with a goofy smile, his eyebrows raised in question. as if to silently ask pretty cool, huh?

“oh, come on,” steve huffs at the unimpressed look billy levels him with. “that was at least kind of cool, admit it.”

“you spent three hours setting that up,” billy points out. “instead of taking out the trash. like i asked you to do earlier. three hours earlier, to be exact.”

it’s steve’s turn to roll his eyes. he spins on his heel and flops backward onto the couch. “whatever. time is arbitrary in quarantine.”

“don’t whatever me,” billy says with a sniff, examining his cuticles. “just clean it up before bed. i don’t want to come out here for water in the middle of the night and break my ass slipping on a fuckin’ domino.”

“fine, mom.” steve tosses a tennis ball in the air as he speaks, making faces at the ceiling like a child. “whatever you say.”

billy moves to lean over steve on the couch, flicking him on the forehead while flashing a toothy grin. “damn right.”

it’s been three weeks since the governor issued an official stay-at-home order. three weeks of binging netflix, playing video games, and scrolling through the same few social media apps over and over.

steve had grown antsy and stir-crazy by the end of week one, needing to find some new activity or another to occupy his mind and body to keep from going nuts.

billy, on the other hand, has kept himself busy with a stack of books about a mile high, and his at-home workout routines. steve’s also been eating better, given the amount of cooking billy’s been doing now that he’s home full time.

while steve bounces from one activity to another, restless and understimulated, billy seems to be transitioning easily into their new way of life, as he tends to do with most things.

steve is only a little bitter.

“how are you not bored out of your mind?” steve gripes. he tosses the tennis ball onto the armchair adjacent to the couch, already tired of it.

billy had moved into the kitchen, and he looks up from the cookbook he’d been flipping through. “i dunno. ‘s not so bad. i can sleep in now, cook dinner more. i even learned how to make paella recently.”

“the fuck is paella?” steve snorts, sitting up on his elbows to stare at billy over the back of the couch.

“it’s going to be dinner tonight,” billy says easily, shrugging. “it’s good, trust me.”

steve just shrugs, flopping back down and closing his eyes. he doesn’t care what billy puts in front of him - the less he has to cook, the better. it’s just not in his wheelhouse.

besides, billy is a natural cook. there hasn’t been anything he’s made that steve’s been unimpressed with. so he leaves billy to do his thing, pulling out his phone and scrolling through twitter, half-listening to the familiar sound of billy puttering around the kitchen.

steve spends a few hours going between napping and mindlessly scrolling through his phone. by the time he pushes himself off the couch with a yawn and a stretch, it’s already getting dark outside. he shuffles into the kitchen, following the delicious smells coming from within.

billy’s still cooking away, his brow furrowed in concentration. he’s stirring something on the stove, poring over the recipe in the cookbook before him. he looks incredibly in his element, moving about with ease, seamlessly transitioning from one task to the next.

steve doesn’t think it’s weird that he could watch billy do this all day. it’s always nice to see someone doing something they’re passionate about with such dedication. and if there’s a secret part of him that has an innate appreciation for billy in an apron, well.

sue him.

it’s not like finding billy attractive is anything new to steve. it’s the 21st century, steve tends not to dwell on those kinds of things. he doesn’t, however, feel the need to clue billy in to those particularly appreciative thoughts about him in his cooking attire.

they’re stuck in isolation together for the foreseeable future. there’s no sense in stirring up trouble or discomfort - they’ve got enough going on already. steve’s not-so-G-rated thoughts about billy and his apron aren’t between anyone but him and god himself.

he just admires from afar, trying to not indulge too often in his racy thoughts about his roommate, who also happens to be his long-time best friend.

it’s no secret, however, that those thoughts had been easier to ignore before, when they spent a large part of their days apart. billy would be at work or in class and steve could always be found guiding himself through his own busy schedule.

as university students, they’d had pretty chaotic lives before the world came to a grinding halt. they were both generally busy with their own lives, and steve had enough going on that he didn’t often have time to dwell on how his thoughts were increasingly crossing the line between friendship and something more.

and just because they’re now together 24/7, with all the time in the world for steve to confront the reality of his little predicament, it doesn’t mean steve is worried. not at all. not even a little bit.

steve has this silly idea that maybe if he says it enough times, he’ll start to believe it.

“smells good in here,” steve comments. he leans up against the counter next to the stove, peering over billy to sneak a peek at what he’s working on.

billy pauses his stirring, scooping a small portion of what looks like rice onto his spoon and holding it up to steve’s lips. he lets billy pop the bite into his mouth, his eyes lighting up at the burst of flavor that spreads across his tongue. whatever it is, it’s delicious. steve licks his lips appreciatively.

“yum.”

billy just nods, looking pleased. “it’ll be ready in about ten minutes. hey, grab me a beer, will you?”

steve grabs two beers from the fridge, passing one off to billy and cracking the other one open for himself. he heads back into the living room, curling back up on the couch and scrolling through netflix.

by the time he manages to find a documentary that they haven’t seen before, billy’s walking into the living room, balancing two plates in his hands. his beer is stuffed in the crook of his elbow, and steve sits up to grab the plate from billy before he can spill beer all over the floor.

“what’d you pick out?” billy asks once they dig in, nodding at the television.

steve swallows a mouthful of food, giving a satisfied hum of approval. “some new nature documentary. i think it’s about whales or sharks or something like that.”

“sounds like a real fleshed-out choice,” billy snorts, but he doesn’t object to steve’s selection.

“hey, you’re the one who’s always complaining that we waste so much time scrolling through the same stuff every day,” steve points out. “i’m just saving us the trouble.”

billy just huffs out a laugh before taking a swig of his beer. “i never said not having to scroll for an hour was a bad thing.”

the lapse into silence as the show starts, watching with meager interest as the intro credits begin. it’s quiet until steve takes a particularly delicious bite of his food, practically moaning around his spoon.

“this is delicious, by the way,” steve says, glancing over at billy. “what’d you say this is called?”

billy’s giving him a strange look, one that has steve’s cheeks heating up and the tips of his ears turning pink.

“paella,” billy answers finally, clearing this throat and averting his eyes

steve stares at billy for a moment longer, opening his mouth to speak before realizing he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, letting it fall shut again.

there’s a weird tension hanging between them for the rest of the night. steve tries not to fixate on it, but it’s hard when he’d picked out the most boring documentary in the history of time itself.

billy doesn’t even meet his eyes when he says goodnight later, after they’ve watched a few episodes and cleaned up the kitchen. steve can’t help but wonder if maybe he said something wrong without realizing it, watching billy retreat to the safety of his bedroom.

steve tosses and turns for most of the night, plagued by incredibly weird and startlingly vivid dreams. dreams about monsters that lurk in the shadows and kids with superpowers and bad men in their secret labs. similar to the ones he had back in high school, back when his life was turned inside out and upside down. only these are brighter, more intense, somehow weirder than before.

there’s a gasp dying on steve’s lips when he bolts upright in bed, the image of a hyper-realistic demogorgon with a decaying human face that he’s uncomfortably sure was barb’s still burned into his mind. he’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his stomach churning. his mouth is unbelievably dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of it.

steve pushes his sweat-matted hair from his forehead, climbing out of bed and padding into the kitchen. he gulps down two glasses of water, trying to will away the trembling of his hands.

it’s when he’s walking back to his room that he slips on something, crashing backward and busting his ass hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. steve’s tailbone collides with the ground first, followed by his elbows, and then his head.

steve groans, pushing himself up off the ground. he feels lightheaded and disoriented, the back of his head throbbing something awful. distantly, steve hears what sounds like a door opening, followed by footsteps.

the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up when someone crouches down beside him. steve can’t get his eyes to focus while he’s this dizzy and the room is this dark. he jumps nearly a foot in the air when a hand comes to rest on his shoulder.

“get your hands off of me!” steve yelps, smacking the mystery hands away from him and scooting across the floor to put distance between him and the body hovering next to him.

“hey, hey, steve, calm down, it’s just me. it’s just billy.”

steve squints through the darkness, his heart hammering in his chest. he can finally make out the defining features of the person that is most definitely billy, crouching in front of him and looking at him with a mixture of pure bewilderment and what he’s pretty sure is worry.

groaning, steve rubs the back of his head with a grimace. “ow...”

“told you to clean the damn dominos up,” billy mutters, sitting back on his heels as he tilts steve’s head down, examining the damage. “did you hit it hard?”

steve just nods, wincing as he does. “yeah. hit my ass and elbows harder, though.”

billy huffs out a soft laugh, taking steve’s bicep and lifting his arm to inspect his elbow.

“i think you’ll live,” billy says after a few moments, letting steve’s arm drop. “the hell were you doing wandering around the house in the dark at three in the morning, anyway?”

“i was getting some water,” steve tells him, rubbing his elbow with a frown. “i was having really weird dreams. i feel dizzy, are you sure i don’t have a concussion?”

billy shifts closer, trying to move steve’s mass of hair enough to look more closely at the lump on the back of his head.

“well, you’re not bleeding. if you have a concussion, it’s mild,” billy says with a shrug. “but i think you’re in the clear. what kind of dreams were they?”

steve doesn’t say anything for a moment before giving a halfhearted shrug. “same dreams i always have. they were just, like....super vivid this time, you know?”

“might’ve been the shellfish in the paella,” billy muses, humming thoughtfully. “certain foods can give you more vivid dreams, almost like fever dreams. shellfish are a pretty common culprit.”

billy takes one last look at the back of steve’s head before grabbing his hand, tugging him up off the ground. steve’s head swims once he’s upright, and he tips forward, crashing directly into billy. billy’s arms go around him immediately, holding him steady.

“you okay?” billy asks, his brows furrowed in concern.

steve blinks rapidly, his brain slowly catching up to the position he’s currently in. he feels the tips of his ears get hot, disentangling himself from billy and backing away, putting several feet of distance between them.

“yeah, i - um. sorry, that wasn’t intentional.”

steve averts his eyes, though billy’s stay trained on steve, that strange look from before back on his face. something shifts in his expression, billy giving him a thoughtful look.

“on second thought,” billy says finally, “you should crash in my room. so i can keep an eye on you. wouldn’t want you nursing a head injury alone, in case anything happens.”

“the hell do you mean, if anything happens?” steve questions, his hand flying up to the back of his head. he opens his mouth to ask another panicked question, but it closes quickly once he realizes what billy is offering. “wait, you mean you want me to stay with you? in your bed? like, together?”

“sure, if you want,” billy says, sounding casual while looking anything but. “you know, for safety.”

“for safety,” steve repeats slowly, swallowing thickly. “okay. okay, yeah. do you think i might need - um. mouth-to-mouth? for safety?”

steve’s heart is hammering in his chest before the question fully leaves his mouth. billy just stares at him for a long moment, before cracking a goofy grin, giving him a slightly disbelieving look. “steve, that is the corniest fucking thing you have ever said.”

“oh, shut up. i have a traumatic brain injury,” steve counters with an unimpressed sniff, trying to play it off like his heart doesn’t feel like it’s about to beat right out of his chest. “sue me.”

“right, your horrific bump on the head,” billy nods, fighting a smile. “guess you should come over here and let me take another look. for safety, of course.”

“safety’s very important,” steve acknowledges as he crosses the room, slowly putting one foot in front of the other.

steve stops short in front of billy, hesitating. billy closes the remaining distance, reaching up to gently feel the bump on the back of steve’s head, though his eyes never leave steve’s.

“that really is a nasty knot,” billy says offhandedly, a flicker of concern appearing in his eyes and disappearing just as quickly. “maybe some ice would help?”

“thought you were writing me a prescription for something else,” steve mumbles.

billy looks momentarily confused, before steve closes the distance and seals their lips together. billy yields almost instantaneously, his mouth opening to steve as if they’ve done this a million times before.

now that he’s face-to-face with it, steve isn’t sure how he was able to dance around it for so long. billy’s lips are soft and pliant beneath his, and he kisses steve languidly, like they have all the time in the world and he knows it. he has one hand curled into steve’s hair, the other splayed across his jaw. when billy nips at steve’s bottom lip, it sends sparks skittering down steve’s spine and goosebumps erupting across his skin.

all steve can see, smell, and taste is billy and he’s dizzy with it, unsteady on his feet. which could be attributed in part to steve’s little bump on the head, but he pushes that thought to the back of his mind to worry about later. he sways a little, causing their mouths to break apart. billy takes steve’s hand keeping him steady.

“c’mon, let’s get you to bed,” billy says, his breathing a little ragged. “you can get the full hargrove treatment in the morning, when you’re not borderline concussed.”

“you’re the one who’s getting a medical degree,” steve protests, even as billy pulls him to his bedroom. “i was just following the doctor’s orders.”

“right, well. this doctor is ordering you to lay down and get some sleep,” billy counters. he helps steve climb into bed, scooting in next to him once steve has slid over to give him some room.

billy lets steve wrap himself around him like a koala without protest, only humming softly in approval.

“maybe quarantine’s not so bad,” steve muses after a few beats of silence, yawning.

“you’re just saying that because you get to kiss me every day now.”

“that so?” steve asks, chuckling softly. “guess that means i should get some sleep so i can be well-rested for a big day of kisses tomorrow.”

“go to sleep, harrington,” billy snorts, burying his face into steve’s neck.

“‘night billy.”

“sweet dreams, princess.”

[im-the-punk-who]

Black Sails as John Silver's SuperVillain Origin Story

Okay so I recently got asked about my views on Silver in a roundabout way so HERE ARE SOME OF THEM. I don’t often post about him because honestly I just really dislike him but he’s an extremely well written character and one of the best ‘villains’ I have ever seen portrayed. The reason Black Sails is such a compelling prequel to Treasure Island is that it does not just say ‘John Silver is a villain because he does bad things.’ Like all the characters in Black Sails he is complex, with deep and thoughtful motivations for the things he does. We see him as a villain because Black Sails sets his goals up in opposition to those of the protagonists we want to succeed - Flint and Madi - but he is not villainous in his own right.

But it is the effects of those motivations on himself that, to me, are the most interesting. 

And just up front because I know this is a touchy subject - especially coming from, well, me, lmao. This is how I read Silver. If you disagree, that’s cool. Like literally everything else in Black Sails(and fiction in general), Silver’s character is mutable based on your views and experiences. Tomato/Tomato.

So! To me, the most important thing about John Silver’s character in Black Sails, is who he is in Treasure Island. Black Sails is a prequel, and Silver is a major character in Treasure Island. We see his actions in the book(albeit through the story of the man who survives him, and, oof, isn’t that a bit of a kicker). We know that in this future Silver is still a lying, manipulative and mysterious person, hard not to like but hard to know.

That consistency is the most important part of Long John Silver’s character to me: he doesn’t really change from the beginning of Black Sails to the end, because he’s not really meant to. 

Silver may not exactly like the person he is but there is no point in trying or wanting to change.  In his view, who he is is just as immutable as the world he exists in. 

And that's the brilliance of Black Sails. 

Silver isn’t the way he is because he is ‘evil,’ or because he wants to intentionally cause harm. He is the way he is because it is the only way he’s worked out to survive. It is “the only state in which he can function.” He does not believe in a cosmic story, in a grand design or justice in the world - and because of that he does not see the point in trying to change something that has kept him alive thus far to appease it.

The entirety of the beach flashbacks is, to me, the summation of both Flint and Silver’s characters but this in particular I feel is important:

-Do you really imagine a few weeks of this is going to make much of a difference? Am I not what I am at this point?

-It's better than nothing.

In the grand scheme, Flint and Silver only know each other for about six months. 

Their relationship - especially to Silver - is a transient one. A handful of weeks. Was it ever enough to expect it to make any bit of difference?

But not so for Flint. He truly believes humans are capable of change, and he believes even the smallest bit of progress is worth the effort. Flint takes the things that happen to him and make them a part of him.

But for Silver,

I've come to peace with the knowledge...that there is no storyteller imposing any coherence, nor sense, nor grace upon those events.

Therefore, there's no duty on my part to search for it.

Silver refuses to acknowledge his own story and so is unable or unwilling to see himself as capable of change throughout it. Or even really the need for change. And that’s not said as a negative - that is who he is. That is who his past - whatever it was - has taught him.

And so he consistently acts solely for his own gain, benefit, and safety. Because if he doesn’t, who else is going to?

And this continues the differences between Flint and Silver. 

While Silver is very wrong that his past is irrelevant, he is correct in that it doesn't matter. It doesn’t matter what his past is, because we can clearly see the effects of it. We don't NEED to know his past to understand his actions.

However, without knowing Flint’s backstory - Thomas, Miranda, England’s betrayal - his actions don't make sense. They are erratic: they seem villainous and vile and like the acts of a tyrant or a madman. Because his actions are tied to his story.

But from the very first moment we see Silver fight the cook over what he presumes is a chance at living, Silver is clearly trying to figure out what is best for him. 

He doesn’t care about Flint’s war, or what the treasure could fund. He doesn’t care about the pardons, and he doesn't care about England. He doesn’t care about piracy. All he cares about at first is the life the treasure could buy him. But when he loses his leg, suddenly the thing he literally spent two seasons fucking everyone over for becomes completely inconsequential, because it no longer benefits him.

It is without relevance.

And through the very last time we see him speaking him to Madi, he is doing the same thing. 

That's not to say he doesn't form friendships or care about people. He is, indeed, a hard man not to like, and I think he also genuinely likes people as well. But that doesn’t mean he changes because of them. The friendships he forms with Flint - with Billy, with Muldoon and Randall and the other crew members - the relationship he forms with Madi. They are all real, but they are also all expendable to ensure his own comfort and survival. 

In the first episode of season 2 we’re told point blank:

It’s likely that if our interests were averse, I’d betray you to save myself.

And of course at this point Silver and Flint are little more than necessary enemies, Silver has no reason to want Flint alive. But the pattern holds throughout the whole show. 

Later in season 2, when Flint is thinking about changing tactics to prioritize the pardons over the gold, Silver has no problem screwing over the entire crew(minus the two men he’s recruited) to meet his own ends. It’s what’s best for him, and Silver operates on this assumption that every person needs to look out for themselves. 

And then again, in the finale of season 2 - he saves the crew because it also means saving himself. When Vincent brings up leaving, Silver says that they would likely be killed if they tried - he’s already considered that option and rejected it because his odds of survival are higher sticking with the crew. 

And then of course, in season three, in the maroon cages - you can bet that the fact that flint’s psyche basically controlled whether they all - including him - lived or died was a major driving force behind his dedication to getting Flint to come up with a plan better than Billy’s in which - again - they all likely end up dead. 

His relationships with Madi and Flint in particular are deep, and so it is the worst thought possible when he realizes that they are starting to agree with each other, but not with him. When Madi agrees with Flint over trading the cache for the fort, I read this as the true end of Silver’s support of the war because the war now threatens his personal ‘safety.’

Because at that moment, the thing most important to him is keeping Madi - who he not only has come to care for but who supports him. And she makes him know she supports him. And the prospect of losing that is what ultimately I think drives him to planning to send Flint away, rather than bring Thomas there or some other plan. 

And again it isn’t maliciousness - not outright. He is doing what he thinks he needs to to survive, because he cannot have enough faith in either Flint or Madi to think they won’t drop him the moment he stops being invaluable. And in the end, that lack of faith is what spells the end for any chance he has at having them in his life.

When he thinks Madi might die if they continue, he doesn’t care if she hates him. He doesn’t care if Flint hates him. He doesn’t care if the relationship is destroyed if he gets what he wants out of it. Madi’s survival. The end of the war. An end to Flint and Madi’s relationship so that he can ‘protect’ her from death and choose how he ‘loses’ her. It is always less painful to be the one doing the leaving.

Based on his world view - that you must protect what is in your own interests and the only person you can count on is yourself - that is the right thing to do.

Over and over we see that Silver is mostly interested in other people through the guise of his interest in keeping himself alive. And I also think that because of that, he views himself as expendable to other people as well. 

When Muldoon insists that the crew would take care of him if he needed that, it’s clear that Silver doesn’t believe him. He still believes himself to be expendable unless he is useful. He is constantly managing his image, managing how people see him, managing the things he allows others to see and what dangers or threats they pose to him, because he believes these are the things that keep him safe. Not his friendships, but what he brings to them.

Part of what’s so heartbreaking about Silver’s arc in season 4 is how terrifyingly close he comes to believing himself worthy. He wants the war because the two people who mean the most to him, who he sees as vital to his own survival - Flint and Madi - are both committed to it. And he’s committed to them. But I also think that just for a second, he starts to see their vision. 

When things are going well, when he can’t see the body count, he comes so close. But then of course, when everything falls apart and he is forced to confront once again the horrors of the world, he retreats.

That line he has:

And as long as (I have his true friendship) he is going to have mine.

I see that get thrown around a lot as a declaration of love, of deep feelings - and it is, to an extent. But it is also a sign of the deep mistrust that Silver harbors even when he is not looking to.

Even in this moment when he has Madi, when it must seem like they are nigh unstoppable and Silver himself is poised at the head of this great thing - when he and Flint are closest and when, I assume, Flint couldn’t fathom betraying him. Silver is still thinking in the eventuality that it will happen.

I have his true friendship, and as long as that is true, he is going to have mine. 

Silver’s love is always conditional. And that doesn’t make it any less ‘real’. It doesn’t make it any less important. But it does make it easier to take back. And that’s important for him!! It’s important for Silver’s own safety that he never rely on someone so much that he cannot cut them loose if they pose a ‘danger’ to him.

And to me, that’s the most important thing to realize about Silver. He is a ‘villain’ - and again I use the term loosely because he is ONLY a ‘villain’ because our protagonist’s stories are set in opposition to his - because he will always put himself above the grander goal. 

We see this in Black Sails, and we see this in Treasure Island. John Silver betrays Jim even though he feels conflicted about it. It isn’t until the very end, until Silver sees once again the same opportunity flash before his eyes where someone he loves is in danger and he cannot live with their death, that the treasure itself becomes unimportant again. Black Sails does an incredible job of giving us an antagonist whose defining trait is that he cannot see himself being meaningful in any way that matters. 

Silver ends up destroying just about every relationship he has because of this inability. Time and again when he is faced with an opportunity for growth that comes with hard decisions, he chooses to destroy himself. Because it is easy. 

It is easy to destroy the thing you do not care about, it is easy to destroy yourself if you don't value yourself. To call it winning because at least you are still alive and the things you’ve had to sacrifice are merely unimportant - inconsequential. But thinking like that hurts not only ourselves, but others too. 

And it is not that Silver puts himself first, plenty of other characters do that as well - Miranda, Jack, Max. It is the fact that Silver must deny himself in the process that makes him the villain not just in Black Sails, but in his own story. And THAT is the origins of his supervillain story. That he is, in fact, his own. 

[cosmcther]

     I’ve been wanted to make a post on the Domes of the Comet Observatory. There are a few things that I have different than the source material in my head, so writing them down sounds like a good idea. Big long post under the cut.

     General stuff. There are six in total: The Terrace, the Fountain, the Kitchen, the Bedroom, the Engine Room, and the Garden. The Domes themselves are bigger on the inside, think the Tar.dis from Do.ct.or W.ho. Just about all of them are little pocket universes that Rosalina expanded on once her powers developed further. Prior to that, they were regular rooms that the Lumas and she built. Once she gained the power to do so, pocket universes were placed inside the rooms to give them more space. That’s why the Beacon is needed to open the doors up. Each entrance is the so-called portals to the private dimension.

     The Terrace: This Dome is used as a typical observatory room that you would find in the real world. The walls are lined with star maps, celestial clocks are scattered about, and orreries are hung up near them, many on shelves and on tables near the corners. They show the motions of countless planets and the relationship they share, making sure that if any planet out there goes off-course, a reference can be made as to how it should look. The ceiling is made of glass, and the room seems to always be at night, moonlight and shimmering stars shining through the skylight. Near the center, a high-powered telescope can be used to view stars. The sound of this room is also quite pleasant, what with the constant quiet ticking and shifting of the orreries.

     The Fountain: Meditation is the main use of this Dome. Sometimes, Rosalina can get overwhelmed and will need a moment to reconnect herself with the world around her. It’s a problem she faces rather often, a session of meditation will be what she needs to recenter. The room’s water is cool to the touch, trickling noises from the slow-moving water filling the walls. Other peaceful nature sounds can be heard, like unseen birds or crickets. It helps Rosalina to swish a foot through the water and feel the slight chill of it, or perhaps listening to the sounds around her processing what noises are being made by what creature.

     The Kitchen: This one is more simple, as the name is pretty self-explanatory. It’s the kitchen for the Comet Observatory. It’s where Star Bits are kept and other food items are stored. Your general cooking appliances are inside, just... pardon the high countertops, please. They’re suited for Rosalina in specific and she is far from a regular height.

     The Bedroom: Another simple one. Rosalina’s bedroom isn’t anything farfetched or out of the ordinary. Just regal, much as the majority of things associated with her. It’s a four-post bed with a canopy and curtains, velvet sheets, comfortable pillows. A standard bedroom, as stated before. 

     The Engine Room: At first glance, the engine room doesn’t seem like anything even close to its namesake. It’s a simple circular room with a metal grating framing the hard steel center. For it’s under the hood that the true engine room earns its name. Truthfully, this is the only dome that lacks the magical pocket dimension effect the rest own. This dome is build into the Comet Observatory’s center spire, allowing it downward access into the entirety of the Comet Observatory. 

The floor inside this dome serves as an elevator that can take you to several levels of machinery that keeps the Observatory running. Inside is an admittedly quite hot and stuffy collection of gears, pipes, metal, and other mechanical guts as far as the eye can see. One would need a map the size of Pluto to maneuver through here. That’s why it’s mainly Rosalina, Polari, and a select number of adult Lumas that go down there for maintenance purposes.

     The Garden: The final dome, and certainly the largest in presentation. Inside this dome is a large and lively garden furnished with tranquil ponds and streams, rock gardens with bushes smattered with berries of all sorts. Most of which aren’t from Earth. Yes, this is an interstellar garden, of course. Bugs and fish that reside in here are from all across the cosmos. 

Oftentime strays that accidentally wandered onto the Observatory in the critters’ collective sense, only realizing that they were on-board after take-off. As for the fish, many were born if not specifically bought for the garden. It’s quite the menagerie indeed!

And while it is not a proper dome,      The Library: A comfortable and low-lit area for quiet conversations or general relaxation. Pillows are scattered about the room for sitting or resting, along with a collection of blankets tucked away in the corner. There exists rolling ladders and stepping stools for book-grabbing, as well. Low-down tables best used with floor seats or cushions should you desire a sit-down with a good book. 

Speaking of which, literature from all across the cosmos exists on those endless walls of books. Many of them are written in languages unknown to the general populous of Earth, but Rosalina would be more than happy to give a translation. Storybooks, history books, fiction and non-fiction. Thrillers, pop-ups, mysteries... why, if there’s a genre you’ve an itch for, it’s more than likely that there’s a book in here for you.

Extras-

The Comet Observatory is modeled off of interstellar beacons, explaining its rather pointed design. For the knowledgeable that make frequent space travel, it’s clear as day that Rosalina’s Observatory is made to represent a safe haven. A floating location of repose for any weary traveler in need of a pitstop and lucky enough to stumble across her ship within the depths of space. Even during its aimless drifting, Rosalina comes across plenty of random visitors.

At the very entrance of the Comet Observatory, the large circular and glass platform operates as a lift onto the ship proper whenever it’s landed. The Observatory itself remains in a constant levitation, never truly touching down. So it’s this circular glass platform that shifts from its position and lowers onto solid ground, allowing others to step upon it and raise up into the Comet Observatory.

If you’re the type without easy access to flight, it’s still plenty easy to get around the Comet Observatory’s tiered design. Handy dandy warp pads and their individual light lines are scattered across the ship’s floors, landlocked visitors needing but to step into one of the glowing green switches to have yourself transported somewhere else in mere moments! It’s a little discombobulating, but it’s been said it’s better than a Launch Star.

The Comet Observatory can technically travel through time. It’s not a playground that Rosalina frequents, but with full power, speeds can reach points fast enough to jump through space and time. In a similar vein, it can also traverse alternate realities. Such is the technicality for the Luigi playthrough unlocked through 100% completion in the original Galaxy game. Again, while not a skillset Rosalina flexes often, the ability is there.

The Gate to the in-game named Gateway Galaxy acts as the outer-reaches of the Comet Observatory’s breathable atmosphere. Anything past that and the cold depths of space can and will have its way with you.

Underneath the floorboards of Rosalina’s bedroom resides a collection of music boxes. They’re her favorite ‘instrument’ so to speak, an instant reminder to childhood, when life was simple. 

[sennextheassasinkingoflight]

Day four: Candied Apples

My first Merlin fic. Drabble really. Merthur if you squint.

Arthur, prince of Camelot, protector of her people had never tried candied apples. Merlin discovered this through Gwaine who heard it through Gwen who heard it from Lancelot who heard it from Leon who heard it from Morgana. Sure, Arthur didn’t like regular apples very much but still how could he have never had a candied apple?

This knowledge plagued Merlin for weeks. It’s what he thought about when he woke up and went to bed. Not specifically the candied apple information but about Arthur which inevitably lead to remembering his lack of knowledge regarding sweets.

“Giaus?” He started One morning before making his rounds.

“What is it Merlin?”

“You’ve known Arthur a long time. And it’s just, Gwaine told me he’s never tried candied apples before. Do you know if that’s true?”

“I have known Arthur since he was born, Merlin. But know that you bring it to my attention I can’t say I recall having seen the prince eat many sweets, let alone a candied apple.”

Giaus agreed with a quirked eyebrow.

“But Merlin? Is it really that important?”

“No. No I just uh, thought it was a bit strange is all. I mean the prince enjoys autumn.”

“Maybe you should just ask Arthur.”

“Ill do that.” Merlin stayed as he moved towards the door with a grin.

“Merlin!” Giaus called after him knowing that he would not be doing that, but likely getting himself into trouble.

While Merlin spent his morning delivering medicine for he and Giaus’s patients he thought through how he could convince Arthur to at least try a candied apple. The only plan he could come up with however resulted in using his magic to disguise it as some other food. He hurried his steps. Best not be late for taking Arthur his breakfast.

“Merlin. What, is this?” Arthur asked from his seat at the table. He had just taken a bite of a roll.

“It’s a roll sire.”

“Merlin I know what a roll tastes like. This is not a roll.”

“ I beg your pardon Arthur but it is.”

“Try this and tell me again.”

“That’s your good sire. I’ve already eaten this morning.”

“Don’t make me shove it in your face Merlin.”

“Does it taste bad?”

“Yes, it’s awful. It tastes like apples and sugar. And honestly you know how I feel about apples.”

“Perhaps in the spirit of autumn the cook has made apple rolls?”

“Apple rolls. Really Merlin? How stupid do you think I am?”

“I don’t.”

Arthur raises both eyebrows.

“Go and get me some other bread.”

“Right away sire.”

At lunch Merlin disguised the candied apple as a squash. The conversation went roughly the same. And at dinner it was a potatoe.

“Merlin, I just don’t understand why all the food I’ve eaten today tastes like sugar and apples. It’s like someone has cursed my tongue so that my favorite foods taste like my least favorite thing. Do you think that’s possible? Would some wizard or witch actually do that to me? Curse my tongue to hate my favorite foods?

“It’s possible sire. Though I highly doubt it.” Merlin responded as they continued down the hall towards Morganas room. She had asked for their presence.

“Finally Arthur! Gwen and I have found this amazing new treat and you simply must try it.”

Gwen produced two apples covered in Carmel on sticks. One had nuts and the other did not.

“What, are these Morgana.” Arthur asked, disgust and amusement coloring his voice.

“Candied apples? Right Gwen? They’re very popular this year. Won’t you try one?”

“No. Thank you Morgana, Gwen. I think I’ll pass.”

“I’d love one Gwen. Candied apples are my favorite. My mum used to make them when I was little.”

Merlin noted Arthur studying him but the prince looked away when Morgana asked,

“ Are you certain you won’t at least try one?”

“Will you stop bothering me if I do?”

The girls shared a knowing look.

“Yes.” They nodded in agreement.

Arthur steeled himself and bit into the candied apple with a crunch. Merlin and the girls watched as his eyes went wide and then drew into a furough.

Slowly with great concentration Arthur chewed the apple.

“Merlin. This is it. This is what I’ve been tasting all day. Someone has to have cursed my tongue. There is no way bread tastes like this, or squash, or potatoes. We need to find whoever did it.”

“Sire, im sure it was just the way that the dishes were prepared. Possibly in close quarters to the apples we’re eating now.”

“Right yes. That’s more logical. I suppose.”

“Much more, I think Arthur than your tongue being cursed.”

“Perhaps.” The prince responded unsure. “I don’t much care for apples, but these arnt to bad. The flavor does suck when I’m expecting butter and bread though.”

With that they took another bite and Merlin his his smile behind his apple. Apparently the prince did like candied apples. He’d have to tell Gwaine.

[starswornoaths]

Would that I could Speak in Thy Tongue

There were good things and bad things about having the Echo. The good certainly outweighed the bad, though Serella feels some of its drawbacks keenly. Luckily, she has friends who are there for her.

Half an exploration of struggling to learn language with the blessing of the Echo, and half fluffy gross-ness for Serella and Aymeric, entirely self indulgent. 

Word count: 2,878

Were it not for wanting to avoid startling her canine companion, Serella might have shouted in frustration.

She must have looked utterly ridiculous, sat on the cold stone of an alley in Foundation with a stray dog at her side and a book in her lap, occasionally attempting broken Ishgardian from the book in the vain hope that her newfound furry friend might respond so she knew she’d said it right. Obviously nonverbal as her companion was, she wasn’t expecting a conversation, more that if responded to her words, then it meant that she was, at least, pronouncing them correctly.

Though he seemed pleased for her company, he had only tilted his head in confusion every time she attempted a phrase the language. 

“I’m sorry, boy.” She said around a heavy sigh, her tired eyes lifting from the pages. Scooting closer to him she lightly pet his side. “I’m utterly butchering the language. One as innocent as you needn’t witness such a murder.”

When her new friend— and really, she should come up with a name for him, she supposed— cozied up to her and licked her face she found she just couldn’t stay agitated. With a laugh she scritched him by the ears. He seemed content with the attention, happily flopping on his side and set his head in her lap next to her book. 

Even looking at the pages in front of her exhausted her. Despondent frustration sparked in her chest; before she had been awoken with the Echo, she had loved studying languages, and voraciously pursued her tongue’s mastery in them at every opportunity. Since her ability manifested, however, such pursuits were more difficult. 

The Echo was as eager to translate anything that she absorbed into Common as she was to understand it herself, going so far as to have the letters on a page appear in Common, even if they were meant to be educational in teaching the written form of another language. 

Her pursuit of learning such languages was no less enthused, and she still strove to learn but it was at a much slower pace, and not entirely perfect besides; where she had been able to listen to people speaking the language and pick up on the cadence, pronunciation, and structure of the words before, nowadays even straining to block out her blessing, she only succeeded in making the words she heard sound like slightly off Common for the trouble. She learned nothing. 

Through tenacity and spite alone she managed to find a method of focusing hard enough to, for lack of a better way to put it, see through the Echo to the words that were actually written on the page. It took tremendous effort, and often left her feeling wrung out and with a migraine that clung to the front of her skull for hours after, but that was a more than worthy trade off for her: her appetite for knowledge would leave her starved for it otherwise.

Ishgardian sentence structure was straightforward enough, but with so few guidelines for how pronunciation rules worked, she found herself adrift on how to pronounce even simple words in the language. And given she couldn’t hear anything but Common, she felt oddly isolated in learning; the most she could get by with was using sign language, and while that served for those who knew it, few actually did. So while she understood those around her perfectly, unless they were also fluent in Common, there was little recourse for her but to avoid conversation altogether. 

Given her job, it was tantamount that she understood this language to effectively help the people around her. If only the very thing that enabled her to help them didn’t also hinder her from speaking with them…

“Serella?” She snapped her head up at the sound of her name— too quickly, as her aching eyes had no chance to prepare for the blinding gray of the overcast sky.

Were it not for the familiarity of that dulcet voice, she might not have immediately known who had been spoken, haloed by the harsh light as he was. 

“Ser Aymeric?” She blinked in an effort to adjust her sight. “What are you doing here?”

“I would ask you much the same.” He replied, and knelt in front of her. Concern knit his brow as he tilted his head. “Are you hurt?”

“Just a migraine.” With a gesture toward the book— and the dog— in her lap, she explained, “Attempting to learn Ishgardian, though how much my study partner is helping is still up in the air.” 

“I was not aware you were studying the language,” Aymeric said, surprised. “Though surely there might be a better partner with which to practice?”

“Thanks to the Echo, he’s sadly the best option.” At his confused stare, Serella elaborated, “I...I can’t hear other languages. The Echo just turns it all into Common for me. Even with reading,” she gestured to the book again. “I’ve gotten better at reading the words, though, despite the translation.”

“You need not put yourself through such strain, my friend.” he tried to reassure her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually spoken of it, but I love learning languages.” She said wistfully. “It used to be so much easier, you know. Before I got the Echo. Nothing was translated for me. I could read and hear and learn to my heart’s content.” The faint smile nostalgia had painted upon her lips faded. “Now, though, it’s...harder.” 

Aymeric shifted to sit beside her. She found herself glad for his company, even as she wondered where he was supposed to be.

“It must be difficult.” He said softly. “Though I struggle with learning, languages have ever fascinated me.”

“I miss hearing them.” She admitted somberly. “Languages are so lyrical, you know? They have their own flow and cadence. Every language— even Common— is like a song.” With a sigh she shut the book and hugged it to her. “But I can’t hear most of them anymore. I’ve been hearing only Common for so long it just drones in my mind now.”

Aymeric was silent for a moment, though she found it a companionable, thoughtful quiet. She realized that she was unduly depositing her upset upon her friend; much as he might contest the point, she didn’t need to burden already overladen shoulders with her personal struggles.

“Pardon me, friend.” Serella finally said with a huff of laughter. “I didn’t mean to turn so gloomy.”

“‘Tis an easy thing to be in such times.” He offered her a reassuring smile. “You have naught to apologize for.”

“I blame the weather.” She grumbled, though couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

“Many do, my friend.” He laughed. “I am only sorry that I can be of little help here— though if there is aught I might do to assist, pray never hesitate to ask.”

“You’re busy enough as it is, Aymeric.” She shook her head. “Last thing I want is to make your life even more difficult.”

“You could never. Though my duties often call me away, you must know you are always welcome. I enjoy our visits.”

“...Thank you.” She said with a smile, though when she unfolded her legs she winced at the sharp tingling of her backside regaining feeling; she must have been sitting there for longer than she thought. “Though I suppose we should both be on our way; you’ve duties to attend to, I’m certain.” 

“As ever.” He laughed. “Though my offer stands all the same.”

Unsurprisingly, he stood far quicker than her, and she accepted his gallantly offered hand in assistance. Though she stumbled just a bit— more than her backside had gone numb, evidently— she thanked him for it all the same. 

“Alright boy, I’m heading out again.” Serella knelt to pet her companion. The canine let out a confused whine. “Sorry, I know you can’t understand me yet. But I’ll be back.” 

Her furry friend did not respond— he never did when she spoke in Common. But he would, once she had finally gotten the hang of it. Eventually.

“He only responds to Ishgardian?” He asked, and she nodded somberly.

“Go on now, boy,” she tried to coax him into the little dog house she had built for him, even as she rummaged in her pack for the extra food she had brought him. “Go rest.”

Predictably, the dog only tilted his head in interest at the container of cooked meat and marrow she had brought him. She let out a defeated sigh and tried to guide him over to the house instead. Though he followed her with his eyes he sat still, tail thumping from side to side. She set the prepared food inside the house in the hope it would be enough before she stood again.

“Does he stay in this alley often?” Aymeric asked.

“Far as I can tell. Stephanivien let me set up that shelter for him, just so he’d stay warm and dry.” She said, gesturing to the wooden dog house. “I just hope it’s enough until I can find his owner— or adopt him, barring that.”

After a few moments of consideration, Aymeric whistled shortly and sharply, startling her. Intent on asking him what in the hells he did that for, she turned to face him, only to realize he was looking at the dog, who now stood up straighter for the call. 

“Your mistress will return.” He said— and when she saw that the way his lips formed the words did not match what she heard she realized he had said it in Ishgardian. He pointed to the dog house. “Stay and guard.”

The dog let out a happy bark and pranced over to lick each of their hands before doing just as he was instructed. He settled himself atop the pale blue blanket she had laid out for him inside, and began to happily munch on the proffered meat.

Serella gaped at him, and surely she must have looked like a fish for how she opened and closed her mouth again when words failed her. He met her gaze, the faintest of smiles curling the corner of his lips. 

“You said that in Ishgardian.” She blurted. “Didn’t you?”

“I did.” 

“You,” she felt her ears burning for the intensity of her blush. “You didn’t have to do that, Aymeric.”

“I am aware.” His smile was soft as he patiently regarded her. “I wished to.”

“That’s…” she recalled Lucia offering much the same— and going to even further lengths than was offered— and felt the same warmth flood her chest at the gesture. “That’s so kind of you. Thank you.”

“I fear the Templars might think I have gone soft on them were they to find out, so perhaps…” Aymeric’s smile turned almost playful as he brought a finger up to his lips. “We keep this betwixt us?” 

“I’m not sure who I would even tell, but ‘tis our little secret, rest assured.” She promised, though half wondered if she should mention his First Commander is just as sweet beneath the stoicism. Doubtless he was already aware.

With a farewell to her canine companion the two left the alley and took opposite paths— Aymeric to the Congregation and she to House Fortemps— after exchanging their own warm farewells to one another.

It was days later, curled on a plush armchair in the Fortemps library, that she received a missive from the Lord Commander, slipped into an envelope, sealed with the Borel family crest pressed in gold wax, and tucked into the twine of a small package. Presuming it to be urgent— the formality and discretion of the thing implied it, after all— she immediately broke the wax seal on the envelope and unfolded the papers inside.

Serella,

I hope this finds you well, my friend. Though I was of no help to you at the time, I recalled the lessons I had been taught in Ishgardian in my younger years. As it turns out, the preservation of my family home has guaranteed that those selfsame books were still to be found in the study. Also enclosed are notes from lectures on proper pronunciation— though they needed rewriting, as I fear younger hands make for illegible penmanship. Pray never hesitate to practice Ishgardian in my company; though I have never hosted a lesson in linguistics, I would be happy to attempt to help.

I pray this helps you find the words you seek.

Yours, as ever,

Aymeric

Shocked excitement rapidly flooding her veins, she flipped to the subsequent pages— and as he had said, writ in his hand were copies of lessons dictated to him as a boy— complete with little limericks and reminders for proper pronunciation, sentence structure, and spelling. She found it equal parts unsurprising and charming that he was as meticulous a student as he was a leader. 

With care she tugged at the twine, and found three small, worn books within the parcel paper. Though the titles of each volume were faded, she could make out that they were old scholasticate books on the fundamentals of Ishgardian language— books that would fill the yawning gaps in her own study, and ones that she would not have been able to obtain access to otherwise. 

Though her hand trembled with giddiness and a wellspring of a curious emotion— for she felt overwhelmed that he had gone to such lengths for her, to recopy old lecture notes from his boyhood for no other reason than it might help her, had gone back to his ancestral home and perused his study for decades old books just for her. 

Such thoughtfulness could not go unreciprocated— though nor could it go unappreciated, either. As she carefully opened the first of the textbooks, she resolved to think of a way to properly repay him for such kindness. Just as soon as she had put his most generous gift to good use. 

Though it was some weeks before Aymeric knew whether such materials were of use, it still came as a surprise when he received a package with a letter addressed to him from Serella. She wrote to him from Limsa Lominsa— she and Alphinaud were sent there upon request of the Admiral for Alliance business, he was led to understand— and he opened the letter with a giddy sort of curiosity.

In nearly perfect Ishgardian— and oh, but why did he feel such pride for her to have accomplished this, he wondered— she thanked him for the study materials, and the amount of effort he had gone to just to help her. She detailed how she was unaccustomed to receiving such assistance without obligation or conditions attached, and could only think of the package as an appropriate payment for his kindness. She apologized for not sending him tea leaves to accompany it, citing, in her words, “Limsa can’t fucking grow it.”

He resolved to never disclose the ugly laugh that escaped him when he read that.

The lid of the box had a stamp on it— The Bismark— and once he realized this came from such an exclusive and highly demanded establishment, he felt his excitement mount. Carefully popping the lid of the box open, Aymeric gasped at the dessert laden within. A damn near work of art for how beautifully the fruit was arranged on top, the tart looked to be some sort of cream based treat, piled delicately with pureed passionfruit, bright pink dragon fruit (doubtless a joke, coming from her,) and skillfully shaped slices of mango. The box felt faintly chilled lined with ice shards as it was, doubtless to keep it from spoiling in delivery. 

Such a gift was welcome but unneccessary, though to say that would be inadequate— to write it, even moreso. Still, surely he could invite her back to his office once she had returned to tell her in person, could he not? His mind made up, he sealed the box again and rummaged for clean stationary and his inkwell, and struggled to keep his hand steady for his excitement.

Serella,

I am relieved that the books and notes were of help. Though I did not expect you to pick up the language so quickly, I find that surprise misplaced: your brilliance has been apparent from the first, after all. 

I must thank you for the gift— a dessert from the Bismark! I would have never expected to try such a delicacy!

Alas, to try it without your company would leave it bereft of sweetness, I fear, as I am told such treats are best when shared in the company of a good friend. Pray see me at your earliest convenience. I will see to the kettle.

Yours, as ever,

Aymeric

His reply to her was simple, but received within an hour of her sending the box. She scarcely read it before she was already casting her return spell; with her job completed, she had intended to from the first, though his letter made her feet swift. To be expected— to be wanted— was an old feeling made anew, thanks to those she had befriended amidst the snow. To ignore such an earnest invitation would be poor form. 

And...well. High time she went home, wasn’t it?

[aesthetic-survivor-of-twd]

It's a bit of a random question, but I wanted to ask you something fun! How do you think the kids used to/would perform academically? We know Ruby was a "remarkable" student but not much about anyone else!

(I’m from the UK and have no clue about American subjects so pardon my lack of knowledge here).

I feel like Aasim would be great at English just because he focuses all of his time on writing and he definitely has the vibe of someone who would analyse books. I actually feel like he would be pretty good at most things and perform pretty great academically. I feel like he would also do well with Politics/Modern Studies as well as Economics.

Mitch was definitely great at science and i’m not just saying that because of the whole “bomb making” schtick. In episode 2 he genuinely seems to be knowledgeable about chemistry and has a keen interest for it. As well as that I can also see him being great at Tech/Workshop classes. Mitch to me, comes across as someone who exceeds academically in all subjects that actually interest him (in this case - practical and “hands on” subjects) and would probably be meh at the things he isn’t interested in that he sees no value in.

Louis as we know, used to strike deals with his dad that if he got good grades then he would be rewarded with stuff that he wanted. When Clem asks him how well he thinks he would have done in order to get the Skylight, he says “straight A’s” - but truth be told, I don’t think that’s what would have realistically happened - and if it did, I don’t think it’s a common occurrence for Louis to get perfect grades if his dad had to actually bribe him to do well. With that said though, I do see Louis as being genuinely clever and intelligent and throughout the game he does seem to have great knowledge on things such as History (which is something I’ve always envisioned him being amazing at and genuinely enjoying). His interests seems to be in favour of old fashioned things, so I definitely see him enjoying History and English class (so long as he doesn’t need to spell something lol) and Music of course. I think Louis was a bright student and ultimately did really well in his studies, but perhaps joked around too much in classes that bored him which are the ones that let him down in the end. I can see him being good in PE as well along with Marlon.

Omar excelled in Home Ec/Cooking because there has to be some reason as to why the school just collectively allow Omar in charge of everything meal related. I can’t see someone volunteering to cook in the group and everyone being okay with it unless they know that person isn’t going to accidentally poison them all and waste their food resources.

Violet is a tough one for me. She doesn’t seem to be into art like Tenn is even though she made the badges and I can’t see her being into Science too much unless it’s astrology related (or perhaps Biology? I think she would be into the experiments lol). Weirdly I can see Violet being pretty great at PE. I don’t know if she would actually like the class or even be interested in it to begin with, but I can actually see her being pretty great at sports given how she easily climbs up the bell tower as well as having enough upper arm strength to wield a cleaver and use a bow and arrow (the latter of which btw takes more strain on your arms to use than you think). She is stronger than she looks. Also I can also see her being interested in language related classes like French or something.

Willy, Marlon and Brody i’m not 100% certain on (except Geography for Brody). Tenn was definitely great at Art.

--

If I had to rank academically overall, I would say:

Exceptional Student:  Ruby, Aasim, Brody (I feel like Brody would be too anxious of failure and would constantly be trying to improve upon her grades)

Above Average: Louis (when motivated), Mitch, Minerva

Average: Marlon, Violet, Omar, Tenn (debated putting him as above average)

Maybe Below: Willy (I think Willy is a really smart kid, but would probably be the type of student to struggle with the education system and learns things better his own way)

^ This isn’t ranked in terms of “who is the smartest character” but just who would do well in school. Grades don’t automatically reflect a person’s intellect.

twdg, twdg louis, twdg violet, twdg aasim, twdg mitch, twdg omar, twdg4, twdgs4, twdg s4, twdg tfs, skybound, asks,

[darcyfirth]

Hartwin fic recs (2/?)

[Long post]

These are lovingly saved in my laptop's Kindle and I love them dearly. It's umbrellas this time, glasses if I made part 3.

Authors' tagged tropes are included and I tried my best not to include spoilers. As usual my comments are in italics.  

☂️ Sparking - LapisLazuli. E, 2k. Traped in a closet trope. 

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while,” Harry whispers, calm as you please, as if Eggsy’s face isn’t pressed directly into the little hollow between his neck and his shoulder, as if Eggsy isn’t drowning in the fucking scent of his cologne, as if the fabric of his bespoke suit isn’t caressing Eggsy’s cheek like a goddamn lover.

☂️ Red Striped Ties - violentcheese. G, 1k. Red string of fate AU.

"Eggsy is the ragamuffin kid who refuses to stop hanging the Kingsman Tailor shop because he has a crush on Harry Hart, the owner."

Eggsy follows his string patiently. Harry ignores his.

☂️ You Get Up With Fleas - evil_brainmate. T, 74k. Corgi/prince!Eggsy. My first time prompting someone (with my old url) and the result is so much more than I expected.

Eggsy is a fairy prince, trapped in the human world and cursed to transform each day into a corgi. Harry Hart is a gentleman spy, and mortal, who picks him up thinking he's a stray. The two of them must work together to find a way to break the curse.

☂️ Paint With all the Colours of the Wind - Della19. G, 1k. Soulmates AU. 

Harry x Eggsy soulmate au where you only see colour once you meet your soulmate (so you don’t know them until you see them).

And it goes away when they die.

☂️ our vintage misery - fideliant. E, 23k. Pining, slow burn. 

hey young blood, doesn't it feel like our time is running out?

On a difficulty scale of one to saving the world, love shouldn't be this far off the charts.

☂️ into the wails of your windfight - fideliant. E, 8k. Pining. 

It takes a mission gone wrong for Eggsy to find out that even in real life, the dead don't always stay dead. Sometimes the movies get that part right, it would seem.

☂️ Class Of Conduct - fideliant. E, 13k. Slow burn. 

Or, Six Things Eggsy Has Learned About Being A Gentleman

“Lesson number one,” Harry says. “Manners matter.”

☂️ Random Access Memories - fideliant. E, 20k. Memory loss.

Having a supercomputer in your head isn't all that much to be cracked up about.

☂️ down dark tides the glory slides - fideliant. E, 23k. Pining, memory loss. 

You only ever truly hurt the ones you love.

☂️ Or Else - breakdancingfish. M, 4k.

Before they’re allowed to go out on their own, Eggsy and Roxy form a four person team with Harry and Merlin, completing several missions together. Oh, and Harry is the world’s biggest tease. Of course.

☂️ We Are Faking It - lokidiabolus. T, 62k. Fake relationship, slow burn.

For Eggsy it was a thing - he was taking from Harry enough, now was the time he should give something back. Even if it meant playing his lover to get the mission going and catch the culprit. Who would it be if not him, right? Right.

☂️ 57 Degrees. Precisely. - Galahard. M, 6k. Marine!Eggsy, texing, coffee shop AU.

In an alternate world Eggsy goes into the Marines, and stays in the Marines. This is a take on that au, though please forgive my lack of actual Marine knowledge. Also included: finicky coffee drinkers, texting addictions, and baristas with ulterior motives.

☂️ A Not So Lazy Evening - Galahard. E, 3k. Bottom!Harry, PWP. Really good read.

☂️ Vermillion - Galahard. E, 14k. Shy!Harry, slow burn.

He didn't know what to do with that. He didn't blush. He wasn't some teenager to be so affected by anything Eggsy did. Though really, he couldn't remember the last time he'd looked at someone and not pictured them in his bed but rather his dining room, chowing down on too sugary cereal while loudly revealing his plans for the day.

☂️ Soulmates - Galahard. 1k. Soulmates AU. How much do I adore this? A lot.

For Harry Hart's 16th birthday he not only gets his soul mark.

He gets a complete sentence.

☂️ Withdrawal - Saucery. T, 1k. Pining, finger kink.

Eggsy goes into withdrawal without Harry’s touch.

☂️ The Language of Flowers - Saucery. M, 1k. Flower shop AU, florist!Eggsy, lawyer!Harry, meet-cute, mutual pining.

Eggsy is a florist with an attitude. Harry is a lawyer with a conscience. Flowers bring them together.

☂️ The King’s Thief - twentyfourblackbirds. T, 8k.

"Harry," Eggsy said one day, while Harry was deep in a report about weapons smuggling in Ukraine. "I really fancy you." "Mmm-hmm," Harry responded, flipping to another chapter about airline safety standards in Indonesia. "If I had to say it," Eggsy mused, slightly put out, "I would, in fact, say that I am deeply, wildly, and madly in love with you." "That's very good, Eggsy," Harry said absentmindedly, scrawling his signature at the bottom of the paper. Eggsy sighed. "Sometimes, I might think you don't listen to a word I say."

☂️ Patience and Sheer Determinaiton - blacktofade. E, 47k. Fake relationship, prostitute!Eggsy.

Harry goes undercover to infiltrate the circle of a corrupt overlord and is given Eggsy, a young prostitute, as a token of goodwill. Harry has to live with Eggsy and keep him safe, while maintaining his cover.

☂️ Care and Custody - esama. T, 50k.

Eggsy takes out the medal in slightly worse circumstances, asking for a miracle.

☂️ How Eggsy Met Harry, As Told Through A Series of Soul Marks - thayde. 91k. Soulmates AU, WIP. I would warn you that this hasn't been updated for a long time now but if you have a brave heart then march on soldier.

Eggsy stares at the Mark on his chest sometimes, and wonders if his soulmate would ever settle for street trash like him.

☂️ Boyfriend Material - Deepdarkwaters. E, 3k. Mutual pining, oblivious!Eggsy.

"Are you a cigarette? Cos you're smoking hot and I wanna put your butt in my mouth."

☂️ Pig Latin - aerospaces. E, 10k. Fluff.

In Kenya, Eggsy falls off a flight of stairs. Or: lessons in cohabitation.

Eggsy discovers the joys of a home-cooked meal among many other things.

☂️ Considerably Less Cannibalism - LizaPod. E, 6k. Shaving, barebacking. This  one is the myth, the legend, the fic.

It is a real, physical struggle to not stare like a dogger while Harry shrugs off his jacket and undoes his collar, sets his signet ring aside. He has detailed, minutely detailed, fantasies about unbuttoning that fucking collar. At least he’s not wearing the holster right now, or Eggsy’d be sprung already. “It’s time you learned the fine art of the straight razor shave.”

Eggsy gives him his best you havin’ a fucking giggle, mate eyebrows. “Like Sweeney Todd?”

Harry’s sigh is just bordering on melodramatic, but he’s also got that odd— Roxy calls it enigmatic—smile he gets when Eggsy trots out some unexpected bit of culture. "Yes, Eggsy, like Sweeney Todd."

☂️ Kiss Me Now (before I can run) - persephoneggsy. M, 37k. Soulmates AU.

It wasn’t unusual, Eggsy told himself. There were plenty of people- just a little under half of the world’s population, really- that weren’t with their soulmates. Some of them just hadn’t met yet; others had died beforehand; and then there were the people in Eggsy’s situation. Sometimes people genuinely didn’t want their soulmates. Either they were in love with someone else, or they just didn’t like what they got stuck with, and Eggsy imagined the latter was very much the case with him and Harry. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must have felt like for him, the world’s prime example of a posh bloke, to have his soulmate be some beaten-up kid. He would have rejected him too.

Or: soulmate AU where you know your soulmate from the moment you touch them, and when you do, their name gets written over your heart like a brand. But that's not always a guarantee.

☂️ “It suits you, you should keep it” - eggsystolemyhart. G, 600-ish.

"What...?"

"Pardon, Eggsy."

"What...?"

"Did you not hear me previously? I said it suits you, you should keep it."

"What...?"

☂️ Five Stars, Would Shag Again - EmmyAngua. E, 6k. Seduction.

This time, the penultimate task isn’t to seduce an heiress, it’s to seduce an agent. Merlin assures the final three that the agent is chosen entirely at random.

So of *course* it’s Harry.

☂️ are we human, or are we dynamite - randomhorse. M, 13k. Pacific Rim AU. 

It’s been seventeen years since Harry has lost his co-pilot Lee Unwin in the drift, and still the world won’t stop ending.

In the Hong Kong Shatterdome, Merlin is launching a new line of Kingsman Jaegers fit to fight Category 4 Kaijus emerging from the Breach.

In the suburbs of London, Eggsy Unwin gets the draft for Jaeger Academy.

☂️ who got the keys to my bimmer - hartwinning. M, 69k. Mutual pining, mechanic!Eggsy, UST, slow burn.

"What's the difference between a BMW and a porcupine?"

Harry gives him a slightly bewildered look and furrows his brow.

"A porcupine has the pricks on the outside," Eggsy finishes.

☂️ hold courage to your chest - Fahye. E, 46k. I adore this.

Eggsy slumps against the wall, feeling every bruise like it's new, and tells the truth.

"You want to make sure I jump when I'm told?" he demands. "It'd better be you doing the telling, Harry."

☂️ Bang to Rights - concernedlily. E, 17k. Police AU.

Constable Unwin never met a tailor before, but he knows this bloke who keeps turning up at his crime scenes ain't one.

☂️ Breakeven - theshizniiit (orphan_account). E, 85k. Omega!Harry, mpreg.

When Harry walked inside the church (and then out of it, and right into Valentine's bullet) he didn't know he was pregnant.

And now he's back from the dead. This time, with an extra passenger and quite a few problems.

☂️ The New Age - DivineProjectZero. Soulmates AU.

It starts with being cursed.

No, scratch that. It starts with a garden and a serpent. And no, it goes a little differently from what you’d think.

☂️ You Are Beautiful - Sheepie. G, 8k. Coffee shop AU.

Eggsy Unwin works as a barista at the Suited Bean. He's been in love with regular customer Harry Hart for a long time, but he never said anything. Who would want to date someone his size? But Harry sees nothing wrong with the way Eggsy looks.

☂️ Couple of (Couples) Mugs - ilokheimsins. T, 2k. Fluff. 

Harry and Eggsy absolutely do not have couples mugs that proclaim their love for one another. Harry is about 70 percent sure of this.

☂️ Gimme All Your Love - midnightsurge. M, 11k. Fireman!Eggsy, rimming.

“Sorry,” a soothing, male voice started hesitantly, “but… didn’ I pull you out of a burnin’ building a few weeks ago?”

Harry nearly choked on his drink as the question registered in his mind, his brown eyes flicking to the side to confirm that, yes indeed, it was Eggsy standing there with wide eyes.

“Fuck, sorry!” Eggsy apologised profusely as he held his hands up, wanting to help but unsure how to do so. “Ain’t meant to startle you!”

Or

Eggsy is a fireman. He saves Harry's life when a mission goes awry. A few weeks later, they meet again.

☂️ Rules of Insanity - inthepapers3times. E, 54k. Dark!Eggsy. 

The worst mistake of Harry Hart’s life started like many of the minor mistakes he had made: with a one night stand. If only he had taken the taxi all the way to his house. Maybe then he wouldn't have met this particular young man, and he wouldn't have taken him home. Maybe then all of this could have been avoided.

Harry gets pulled into a dangerous game with Gary, a disturbed man he barely knows, and has no choice but to play along.

Gary is in control completely. He makes the rules. Harry is just forced to follow them.

☂️ dig in your fingers - kirkaut. E, 42k. First time, body worship.

The lack of a silver suppository has set Eggsy upon a certain path. The way that Eggsy looks, dripping wet and half naked, sets Harry on another.

(Or: Total Canon Re-Write, aka The One Where Harry's Libido Saves His Life)

☂️ sins without tragedies - kingstier. T, 11k. 5 + 1. Fake marriage.

"Harry, are we married?"

"Aren't we?"

Or, the five times they're practically married and the one time they're not (yet).

☂️ 5 Knots Harry made + 1 Knot Eggsy tied - therune. T, 2k. 5 + 1. I love this immensely!

Whenever Eggsy gets dressed in his suit he purposefully skips a button or struggles with his tie so that Harry is forced to step into his personal space and fix it for him.

☂️ Like Real People Do - coloursflyaway. T, 3k. 5 + 1. Undercover, first kiss.

Five times Eggsy called Harry a pet name, and one time Harry called Eggsy one.

[scribe381224]

Equation of Storms

Mei didn’t know what to expect when Hanzo joined her and Winston on their scientific expedition, but he insisted that they needed someone to watch out for them security-wise. They were going to upstate New York to research storm patterns, and they would be by the shoreline, the better to observe said patterns. Since they got to their camp site, Hanzo turned out to surprise her. First, he looked through the nearby forest and was able to identify some of the local foilage, which impressed Mei. Then there was the time he was able to help calculate the trajectory of an oncoming storm-not by much, but enough to reveal a potential for maths.

“Simple geometry.” Hanzo said, then shrugged as if it was nothing.

“Not as simple as you think.” Mei answered. Still, he dismissed this potency as though it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t be their first disgreement. The next one came when a boar came stampeding out of the forest. It almost hit their equipment and Hanzo was able to hit it with an arrow, straight to the heart. Then he lifted the boar and moved it a few feet from their camp site and began to butcher it.

“What are you doing?” Winston asked, staring. Mei could only look aghast-how could Hanzo butcher that animal? But he was, he had stripped down to lower garments and was cutting at the boar’s body.

“Dressing the kill, what does it look like?” Hanzo said. “We could use a suppliment to our rations.”

“And how, exactly, would we preserve all of this meat?” Mei asked.

“The tin can next to what I have carved so far, it has a curing blend. Just rub a generous amound of what meat slabs are cut, then let it sit, I will smoke it when I am done here.”

“But-but that-”

“It is a common species of boar, all we have done here is deprive the local predators of a meal and even then they will be able to look elsewhere.” Mei had to sigh, there was no arguing with him, and besides, maybe they could add to their rations somehow. So Mei volunteered to rub the curing blend into the meat, even offered to put the cured meat over the fire so it could cook. “So, are we going to eat the entire body?”

“If you mean the meat this generates, then maybe. Jerky keeps well, it should last us long past this trip.”

“What about the rest? The bones, sinew, the…organs?”

“Buried a distance from here, it can serve as fertilizer. That way, nothing is wasted.” Mei had to admit he had a point.

“Do you do a lot of hunting? I mean, game hunting, not assassination.”

“Sometimes I did, when I needed to hide out among the wilderness. Old survival skills from…before. They served well.” He fell silent after that, unwilling to speak more of his old life.

Weeks passed and they settled into a comfortable routine of research, exploration and looking over calcuations. Then they saw readings of an incoming blizzard heading their way, and were in the middle of evacuating when it hit. The storm hit their camp site and they managed to find shelter in a nearby cave. Mei shook, anxious, the storm-a nor'easter-reminding her of the super storm in Antarctica that drove her and her colleagues at the Ecopoint to cryosleep. But this wasn’t Antarctica, they had plenty of rations which were supplimented thanks to Hanzo-where was he anyway?

“Winston, did you see Hanzo?” Mei asked. They looked around, Hanzo wasn’t here.

“No, I thought he was right behind us.” Winston said. “I’m going back out there to see if I can find him.”

“Winston, it’s too dangerous! What if-what if he’s on his way here now.”

“Then I’ll run into him. It’s too dangerous for both of us, but I’m more likely to survive. Advantages of fur and all.”

“All right…keep your comm open at all times.” Winston nodded and went out the cave. Mei paced, got things set up like a fire, laid out rations, and fretted about the two of them. It felt like eternity, but she soon heard large footsteps. She stood up and saw Winston, carrying a half frozen Hanzo and their emergency beacon.

“He’s alive.” Winston said as he laid Hanzo down on an open sleeping bag. “He had the beacon in his possession, he was on his way here when he tripped. Mei…this doesn’t look good, even with a thermal sleeping bag.”

“I have an idea. I have water boiling-please bring it here.” Winston did, and handed her the pot filled with boiling water. Mei took the pot and put it right in Hanzo’s face, letting him breathe in the steam. He gasped and coughed and Mei gave the pot back to Winston.

“Hanzo, are you all right?” Mei asked. Hanzo nodded. “You’ve been exposed to the cold, and we need to save heat.” She started undressing him.

“What..what are you doing?” Hanzo asked. Winston just coughed, and decided to keep an eye out for rescue.

“We need to save heat.” Mei then undressed herself and got in close to Hanzo before closing the sleeping bag. “This will help. Talk to me, you need to stay awake.”

“What is there to talk about?”

“Simple geometry is a good start.” That got Hanzo to smile, and they talked of angles and circles, shapes and areas. It was amazing what he knew despite a lack of formal learning, of conventional learning.

“The numbers, they proved to be relaxing.” Hanzo said. “Whenever things with the clan started to be overwhelming, I would play with numbers. A lot of them were economical, finaincial equations, and they needed to be seen as possible theories for our…business.”

“Didn’t you want to advance your learning of math?” Mei asked.

“Why? I had the knowledge I required to lead, or so I thought. Anything else would have been frivilous and the master of the Shimada can not afford frivolities.”

“What about university? That would not be a frivolitiy.”

“It was beneath us. Genji and I were home-schooled, to keep as much of the outside world out as possible. We traveled with our father, then we traveled on our own, whether we were trusted to or not.”

“It still does not answer my question.”

“About whether or not I wanted to learn more math? The truth? I would have wanted to know more about numbers than what was in a ledger, about the proper angles to shoot in order to achieve a kill. But it was not to be.”

“It’s not too late.” Hanzo hummed and snuggled closer.

“So soft…should do this under better circumstances.”

“Pa-pardon?”

“This. You and me, together, like this. Must do in a nice, soft bed…candlelight…no, moonlight…that would be best…”

“Hanzo, I-why? I mean, why me? I think you may like other girls, like Dr. Ziegler, for example.”

“Mmm, no, she wants my brother, but is too shy to approach him. He is uncertain, and wants to be sure he has honorable intentions before moving forward. No, want you.”

“Even if I’m not…”

“Not one of those chemical-infused, gold-digging tramps?” Mei had to laugh at that.

“Hanzo, that’s mean!”

“That is truth. They make their noses from plastic, they inject enough collagen in their lips to inhibit breathing and their breasts, they are so full of silicone a blind man could see them for the fakes they are. No, you-you are real, you are genuine, you do not pretend to be coy and shy for personal gain, you do not care that I am a baka in situations that require socialization, I…I do not deserve you, Mei-Ling. But I still want you, so very much.” That was when he kissed her, and it warmed the both of them more than their bodies sharing heat. Mei broke the kiss after a few minutes, it was that intense, and she needed to breathe.

“Please, not here. What if-what if Winston hears us, or sees us?”

“We could tell him to take notes. It would be good research for him.” Mei giggled.

“I think we should wait until we are rescued, get back to base, before we continue anything further. Plus, we could start with tea, or even dinner.”

“Would like that. Very much. Sweet, beautiful Mei…a worthy treasure for an unworthy nightingale.” Mei just cuddled, and prayed rescue would come soon.

Well, that and Winston didn’t barge in on them.