#when optimism colored my days as winter lifted

[allthesethingsthative-read]

[hanemiso]

Wish I Were Tohru

>>> a sohma yuki x reader <<<

genre: lil fluff, lil angst??

warnings: none

song: heather by conan gray

synopsis: you’ve been able to get close to the Sohma and become close friends with him. you have feelings for him, but you’re pretty sure he has feelings for Honda Tohru.

a/n: I love this boy and he needs love, I AM HERE TO SUPPLY LOVE 🥺❤️ honestly Yuki is my favorite from Fruits Basket, Haru being a close second and Kyo a close third!! I just don’t see enough Fruits Basket content on here so I thought maybe I’d make some, but this one is kinda shitty ngl. It was long but it just doesn’t feel like my best work. But, I’ve been working on this for a while, so I thought I’d post it anyway heh :)) I guess this means I officially write for Fruits Basket now!!!

It all started the 3rd of December, when your feelings for Yuki made themselves apparent. On that winter day, you were freezing because you weren’t wearing a warm enough coat and Yuki gave you his sweater while you two walked to school. Your cheeks warmed up quicker than the rest of your body as he smiled at you and wrapped his sweater around your shoulders. With a close-eyed smile, he warmly said that it looked better on you than it did on him; those words struck a cord in your heart, and from then on you accepted the fact that you had fallen for the boy who had become your closest friend.

Of course, you got shit for it from his fan club and they relayed all the rules of the fan club to you during lunch. But after that incident, some of the girls from the fan club began asking Yuki for his sweater, to which he shot them down nicely. That small action didn’t go unnoticed either, and made you feel like he only ever did that for you, and made you fall even harder for the Sohma.

It’s been months since that instance, and you haven’t said anything to him about your feelings because you didn’t want to look like another one of the girls from his fan club desperate for his attention and love. But, seeing as you two have grown closer and you’ve gained enough confidence to do something about your feelings, you decided yesterday that you would confess to him today.

You walk up to him in the hallway during passing period, slightly shaking from nerves, and get his attention by calling his name. He turns around and smiles at you, earning you a glare from the class president who was talking to him earlier.

“Oh, l/n-san, hello!” Yuki greets warmly. 

“Hey Sohma-kun! Can I...” you start, but trail off as you see his eyes drift away from yours and land on someone behind you. You glance behind you and see Honda Tohru, your friend, walking down the hall with Uotani and Hanajima. When you look back at Yuki, you can see his eyes follow her figure as she passes, gazing softly. Seeing that makes your heart drop, along with your confidence level.

When he looks back at you, you shake out of your thoughts and quickly say, “uh, sorry, I meant to tell you I’m busy after school so I won’t be walking home with you guys today.”

A look of confusion crosses his features briefly, but is replaced with a smile as he answers with, “Oh, alright. I’ll let Honda-san know.”

You thank him with the best fake smile you can muster before quickly walking down the hall to your next class. When you’re far enough away, your smile drops, as does your gaze. You definitely took notice of how Yuki’s eyes seemed to brighten as he watched Tohru walk by, brighter than the blue sky. It was a look you were sure Yuki never bestowed upon you, but you understand why. Obviously, Tohru is very pretty; definitely a sight for sore eyes. She’s so kind and thoughtful, among other things, Her personality draws people to her, and you can understand why. And because you can understand why Yuki would gaze at her like that, your confidence plummeted and your confession got caught in your throat. But you didn’t want Yuki, Kyo, and Tohru to know your mood was gloomy, which is why you chose to walk home alone today.

They shouldn’t see you in such a down mood stemmed from jealousy; it’s not fair to them and it would only make you as mature as his fangirls. Jealousy is not a flattering color, after all.

On your walk home, the moment replayed in your head. Your brain kept trying to pick apart his facial expression, hoping to find some solace in the evidence of a misunderstanding. Finding optimism in the hopes of a misunderstanding, you walk along the street with your head held high, deciding to try again tomorrow.

.

.

But, oh how unfortunate you’d be this week.

The next morning, there’s news of chilly weather for the rest of the week, right when it was starting to warm up a little. It doesn’t matter much to you, seeing as you grab a nice coat this time to keep you warm. You walk out the door and see Yuki and Kyo standing in front of your house, waiting for you to join them on the walk to school. Their attention turns to you as you approach them, and they greet you. As you greet them back, Kyo shifts his stance a little to reveal Tohru standing behind him with a smile on her face...and Yuki’s sweater pulled over her uniform. The same sweater he had given you to wear in December. The sweater you thought he had only given you to wear.

And yet again, your confidence plummets into the floor. All you can do to keep your mood seemingly high is smile and remain silent on your walk to school. Yuki and Tohru are caught in a conversation the entire way, which Kyo sometimes comments on, but Kyo notices how quiet you’ve gotten and how you won’t make eye contact with any of them. He ruffles your hair, causing you to look up at him in surprise because he doesn’t do that unless he’s trying to lift your spirits.

“Do you wanna...talk after school?” He asks, turning his head away from you.

You smile, knowing he’s trying to give you support. Kyo was always like that; he does care a lot, but he doesn’t always know how to show it.

“Yes, thanks Kyo-kun.”

.

.

“Alright, spit it out.” Kyo says, leaning against the wall.

You sigh, turning your gaze to the ground as you try to explain everything to him. It all sounds really stupid to you when you say it out loud, like it’s not a big deal...but it feels like one. It feels like he’s messing with your emotions, but Yuki’s not the kind to do that intentionally. Once you’re done spilling your guts to Kyo, he continues to stare at the tree in front of him as your hands begin playing with the ends on your skirt.

“It’s stupid, I know. And it’s not like I hate Tohru-chan, I could never. She’s such an angel, I can understand why you’re both so drawn to her. In fact, it wouldn’t be surprising if Yuki was in love with her. I just...I wish...”

I wish I were Tohru.

That’s what you wanted to say. Jealously really is an ugly shade.

“Uhm, never mind, Kyo-kun! It’s nothing, I promise. I shouldn’t be complaining like this; I shouldn’t burden you with this nonsense, especially when it’s about someone you dislike.” You add quickly, concealing your true feelings with a close-eyed smile.

Kyo looks at you with wide eyes, surprised at your change of attitude. Sure, he doesn’t really care about anything that has to do with Yuki, but when it also concerns you, a close friend, he cares a lot. The fact that you tried to invalidate your feelings pisses him off, but he tries putting that aside as he faces your retreating form.

“W-Wait, y/n-”

“Uhm, let’s go Kyo-kun! I’m sure you don’t want to be here any longer than you already have to.” You smile at him, taking steps towards the school gates.

That fake happiness; the facade you’re hiding behind to mask your hurt feelings, it’s definitely becoming more transparent to Kyo as all the words you uttered about the issue swirl in his mind. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s at a loss for words. He’s never cared about Yuki or what’s going on in his life, so how can he possibly give advice on an issue concerning him?

As you both walk in silence in the direction of your homes, Kyo replays your words over and over in his head, trying to think of something to say to encourage you in some way.

“L-Listen, don’t give up so easily y/n! Just tell him how you feel, I mean you’ve come this far! You know how much I hate that rat, but he’s not...a bad guy. And if I’m wrong and he breaks your heart, I’ll break his stupid face for you!”

You look up at Kyo in surprise, cause you know that must’ve taken a lot out of him to say something semi-nice about Yuki. He doesn’t dare make eye contact; his head faces away from you as his shoulders tense and he balls his fists. Something about how reluctant he is to admit it makes you laugh, and your laugh causes his eyes to widen as he looks at you.

“What? Are you laughing at me?!” He exclaims.

You shake your head with a soft smile on your face, a genuine smile.

“Nope, nothing of the sort. Thanks Kyo-kun, I won’t give up on my confession! Yuki and I planned a study session for tomorrow, so I’ll plan to confess to him then!”

“Good.”

.

.

After you changed out of your uniform at home, you set off for the Sohma residence. It’s not a long walk from your house to Yuki’s, so you slow your pace a bit to take in the scenery and steel your nerves.

After talking with Kyo yesterday, you hadn’t exactly figured out how you were going to tell him, or even when. Lucky for you, the study session you both had planned a week ago was an early one; close to right after school, maybe about an hour or two off?

After trekking up those myriad stone steps, you knock on the door of the Sohma residence. After a couple seconds, you hear Shigure’s voice on the other side of the door as he slides it open.

“Ah, y/n-chan! Hello!” Shigure greets with a smile.

“Hi Shigure-san, is Sohma-kun here?” You ask, smiling back at him.

“Oh, Yuki-kun? He’s been gone for about an hour or so with Tohru-chan. I’m not sure when he’ll be back, but would you like to wait for him here?”

Oh. He’s out with Tohru. Even though you guys had plans. It’s likely that he forgot, but it’s not like you guys made these plans a while ago; it’s been a week!

Your smile falters a bit, but remains on your face as you answer Shigure with, “Oh, I see. Thank you for offering, but I think I’m just going to head home then! Have a good day, Shigure-san!”

You bow to him before turning around and stopping in your tracks. At the top of the steps stands Kyo, staring at you with confusion written all over his face. You walk up to him and smile before trying to walk past him.

“Wait, y/n, what happened? I thought you and the rat were studying today.” Kyo asks, causing you to halt.

You bite your lip, swallowing your emotions, before turning back to Kyo with a pained smile and answering with, “He’s out with Tohru-chan right now. It’s fine, he probably just forgot. I’m just, uh, gonna head home now. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kyo-kun!”

Kyo stands there in disbelief as he watches you walk down the steps. He’s pissed now; after he admitted the rat wasn’t a bad guy, he does something like this. To his close friend, of all people! Don’t you mean more to the rat than anyone else?

Kyo grits his teeth as he runs to the house to ask Shigure where Yuki and Tohru are. Shigure gives him the vague answer of a certain shopping district across the city, and Kyo sets out to find Yuki to set him straight. The image of your sadness seeping into your smile is burned in Kyo’s mind, making him even more upset.

Kyo makes it to the shopping district about a half hour later, running from shop to shop. He asks store clerks if they’ve seen anyone matching the descriptions of Yuki and Tohru, but each one says they haven’t. Hours pass before Kyo approaches the last store and sees the silver-haired male standing outside with Tohru by his side, looking like they’re having a grand time. Kyo runs up to the two and grabs Yuki by the collar of his shirt, causing Yuki to stare at him in surprise and annoyance.

“You stupid rat! How thoughtless are you?!” Kyo starts, tightening his grip on his shirt.

“Let go of me, stupid cat.” Yuki deadpans.

“Does y/n mean nothing to you?! How dare you treat her like trash!”

“What are you talking about?!”

“You ditched your study session with her today to go out with Tohru! Do you enjoy hurting her or something?! Cause you seem to be doing that a lot lately! Do you not care about her?! If you don’t, then why don’t you just say it to her face instead of making her sad every day!”

Yuki’s eyes widen as realization hits; he totally forgot about the plans he made with you today. The guilt he feels outweighs the anger swirling in his chest every time Kyo accuses him of not caring about you. He pushes Kyo off of him and hands Tohru the bags in his hands, all except for one.

“I’m sorry, Honda-san! I have to go!” Yuki apologizes quickly before sprinting out of the shopping district.

Yuki scolds himself for being oblivious to your feelings as he runs down seemingly endless streets. Yuki always cared for you; you were the one close friend he had before Tohru came into his life. Lately he’s noticed that thoughts of you are all that consume his mind at night, and the way he feels different around you than around anyone else. But, our poor Yuki has never felt this way before; he doesn’t know why he feels like this or what to do about it.

But when he heard that he forgot about his plans he made with you, and how that hurt you, he felt like the lowest of the low. How could he skip out on plans with you? How could he hurt you?

The sun begins to set as more tears adorn your notes. You weren’t really sure why you were so upset; it’s okay that Yuki is happy with Tohru. It’s not even a big deal that he forgot about your plans...so why did it hurt most to think he forgot about you? All these doubts begin swarming your head, causing more tears to fall, as you hear knocks on the front door.

You quickly wipe the falling tears as you walk to the door, trying to compose yourself for whichever visitor stood at your door. Your eyes widen as you open the door to see a heavily panting Yuki standing in front of you. You quickly plaster a smile on your face as you attempt to greet him.

“Sohma-kun? Are you alright? What are you doing here?”

“l/n-san, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot about our plans today and went shopping with Honda-san. I never meant to make you sad, I just-”

“Yuki-kun, can we...talk? Somewhere else? Let’s, uhm, go for a walk real quick.”

You grab a pair of slip-ons by the door and head outside, leading Yuki to a nearby kid’s playground. You both sit on the swings and silence envelopes you two as you gather your thoughts. Yuki stares at you as you stare at the ground, waiting for you to scold him or do anything to let him know you were fine.

“Yuki-kun...I still remember the third of December; me in your sweater, you said it looked better on me than it did you. Only if you knew...how much I liked you. How much I still like you. I remember how every girl from your fan club asked you for your sweatshirt, and how I felt special when you turned them down. But, I’ve seen the way you look at Tohru-chan when she walks by. And I get it, Tohru-chan is very beautiful. What a sight for sore eyes, brighter than a blue sky. And I’ve been noticing lately how your gaze on her lingers, and how your face softens when you speak to her. You gave her your sweater to wear, too...not that it matters, I guess. Anyway, as my feelings for you continue to grow, I begin to see...and understand, how and why you like Tohru-chan so much. I mean, she’s an angel! She’s so kind, thoughtful, and caring...I understand why you’d want her. And why you wouldn’t want me. I mean, why would you ever kiss me? I’m not even half as pretty. You gave her your sweater; it’s just polyester. But, you like her better. And I’m able to accept that, as long as you’re happy, Yuki-kun! I just...sometimes...I wish I were Tohru-chan.”

Yuki stares at you in disbelief as you continue staring at your feet, a single tear falling from your eye. He really is oblivious. His brain can’t even begin to compute the misunderstanding going on here. After all, he has feelings for you too. So, just how did it end up so bad, he wonders. He finds it so hard to believe you reciprocate his feelings, and that while trying to find a way to confess to you, he was hurting you instead.

“I-I love you, Yuki-ku-” 

Yuki’s body moves as if on instinct, kneeling in front of you with his hands caressing the sides of your face. He smashes his lips against yours, only realizing what he’s doing once he feels you kiss him back. He pulls away almost as quickly as he placed his lips on yours, a blush creeping onto his face. You stare at him with wide eyes as he collects his composure and wipes a stray tear from your eye.

“l/n-san, I...I love you, too. What you saw between Honda-san and I is a big misunderstanding, and I’m sorry not seeing how I was hurting you. I’ve been spending more time with Honda-san this past week because she was helping me figure out a way to confess to you. Shigure suggested making you jealous like the love interests in his romance novels, and I honestly don’t know why I listened to him; I knew it was a terrible idea. But, that’s why Honda-san was wearing my sweater yesterday. When I thought that didn’t work, Honda-san suggested getting you a gift, which is why we went shopping today. I was so caught up in trying to make you happy that I forgot we made plans today. And instead of making you happy, I made you cry. Love isn’t really a feeling I’m fond of; I’ve never really experienced feelings this intense before. It took me a while to realize you were the reason my heartbeat quickened; why my stomach did flips, why warmth would spread in my chest. But when I found myself wanting to be with you every waking hour, I panicked. Truth be told, you’re the person I hold closest to my heart. I don’t let people in...from experience. There’s so much darkness that doesn’t reach the surface, so many things I can’t say just yet. But I will tell you in time, because you’re the person I trust most, and I’m learning slowly how to let people in. In the meantime, the one thing I can say with certainty, is that I love you...and I want to make you happy, if you’ll let me.”

Yuki takes your hands in his and smiles warmly at you. Worried that words will fail you, you nod with a grin on your face. The night air sends chills down your spine as you gaze happily at the boy in front of you. Yuki takes notice of the goosebumps rising on your skin and smirks a little, pulling his hands away from yours to grab the bag on the ground next to him.

He hands it to you while saying, “I have a feeling this’ll come in handy right about now.”

You take the bag from his hands and open it, revealing a familiar sweater. You press it against your chest, smiling at Yuki. You look down at his sweater and realize he's wearing the same one; he got you a matching sweater.

“You just looked so cute when you wore mine...” He smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I love it, Yuki-kun! Thank you!” You exclaim, throwing it on.

It was just polyester, but it now meant more to you than you thought it ever could.

[bts-weverse-trans]

The Life of BTS Writes a Story Review of BE 2020.11.30

BTS released its new album, BE, on November 20 after RM announced the band’s plan to produce the record on BANGTANTV’s Log (ON) on April 17. The group was working on the album even as “Dynamite”, the single they dropped on August 21, was topping the Billboard Hot 100. This order of events is given a fresh new meaning when “Dynamite” closes BE as opposed to standing alone as a single. While the group was busy sending messages of hope by reminding us of the past where heading out happily after a cup of milk was possible and giving us a glimpse of the future that will eventually come, they were recording the emotional ride they have been on while being off stage via different tracks on BE. Such changes in emotions can be seen through different portrayals of Jung Kook’s room—the way it looks during the first verse of both “Dynamite” and “Life Goes On,” the title track of the new album. Jung Kook is captured looking chipper as he ties his shoes getting ready to go out and dances in his sunshine-filled room in the music video of “Dynamite”, but in the latter’s video, Jung Kook stares blankly out the window. BE tells the story of how Jung Kook and other members navigated their lives, which includes their time singing “Dynamite,” during the pandemic by stepping out of rooms that are distinctively less colorful than the scenes in the music video of “Dynamite”.

The seven tracks, not including “Dynamite”, embody BTS’ emotional shifts and draw what looks a lot like a V curve, with “Skit” separating each section of three songs. The album opens with “Life Goes On” where BTS asks, “there’s no end in sight / is there a way out?” to live through a reality devoid of hope and arrives at “Stay” where the group expresses their intense longing for a reunion with the fans by saying, “Thinking of you now / No matter where you are / That’s not important.” And during this journey, BTS responds to the physical limitations imposed on their daily lives by saying “They took away this whole year” while also trying to put a positive spin on it by singing, “Thoughts can change by thinking,” in “Fly to My Room”. What follows is “Blue & Grey”, where they reveal inner feelings of depression and anxiety with the line, “Still don’t know this sharp blue / Hope it’s not covered over I’ll find the exit.” “Skit” then offers a shift in direction, and the next song, “Telepathy” reveals their eagerness to meet people again, highlighted by the lyrics, “Every day’s the same and I’m happiest when I meet you.” BTS also takes a moment to let out their complex thoughts on work to reach “Stay” ultimately. It is only at the end of this process that the optimism in “Dynamite”, which feels like a conviction of hope in a time of pandemic, appears in full.

“Life Goes On” allows those who don’t know whether they should hold on to hope or give up on hope to feel what it is like to go with the flow when you don’t know what to feel. Those who want to find a reason to be positive in life affected by the pandemic can find solace in “Fly to My Room.” But it is when you listen to the album as a whole that you can get healing from the pain the pandemic has inflicted on us. The soothing ambiance offered by “Life Goes on” transitions into heavy, slow, and dark tunes in “Blue & Grey,” which is followed by faster rhythm and airy sounds in “Telepathy” and “Stay.” Then the album finally culminates in “Dynamite” where the bright sunshine lifts you up. The record in its entirety offers the chance to experience at least indirectly the emotional ride taken by global superstars BTS themselves. “Dis-ease” is the classic example of the storytelling style BTS chose for the album; the moment they let out their angst and fully devote themselves to work is when the song reaches its climax. When BTS sings, “Get up one more time / It’s morning again we gotta go out / Let’s go one more night,” towards the end of the song, the arrangement drives up the song’s tension for the peak moment, “Everyday I console myself / We’re all the same people ain’t so special / Ay man keep one, two step keep calm and let’s heal up” which tops the song off like fireworks. This ironic way of storytelling mirrors BTS’ life at the moment. There are a lot of thoughts about work and life on their mind, but they try their best to work through them. And just as they do this, their energy transforms into a musical blast.

With “On,” the single track on their previous album “Map of the Soul : 7,” BTS says “Where my pain lies / Let me take a breath.” The album covers how BTS has traveled from the past to where they stand now, and “ON” tells a story of the members having to live with the “shadow” that comes with enormous fame as discussed in “Interlude : Shadow” on the very same album. With BE, BTS finally tells the story of their lives that are still unfolding. It’s not clear whether their questions about work asked in “Dis-ease” now found answers. It’s not known how long this will last, just like no one knows when this pandemic will finally run its course. We have no way of knowing if they are still in the mood expressed in “Blue & Grey” or they’re feeling the positivity of “Fly to My Room.” One thing that is clear is that while they battle work as one would with “Dis-ease,” they still wrote songs like “Telepathy” and “Stay” to send their messages to the fans, and kept busy getting ready to perform “Dynamite” on numerous stages. BE is the album that ties together all of their real-life events, both on and off stage, as one narrative. They started as an idol group and now their lives are intertwined inseparable from their music, their very existence becoming the stories they tell.

The way BE sets up different songs is directly linked to the musical changes BTS has undergone, and thus, are evident in the album. As the members’ stories take center stage, the arrangement focuses on getting their lines and melodies across and adjusts itself flexibly to each member’s part without following a certain trend or form. The arrangement filled with sounds of guitars, synthesizers, bass, drums, and pianos or sounds similar to real instruments is fitting to songs like “Fly to My Room” and “Blue & Grey”, in which auditory shifts accompany each member’s part. The smaller number of sounds used in

BE

compared to previous albums further emphasizes vocals, such as by accentuating the sound of Jung Kook inhaling in the beginning of “Life Goes On.” If J-Hope’s part in “Fly to My Room” reminds you of a gospel song, it’s not just because the synthesizer highlighted the gospel-like vibes but also because j-Hope’s voice that faithfully delivers his emotions as if giving witness to an epiphany with the line, “Thoughts can change by thinking.” Just like the auditory shift that takes place with SUGA’s rap part in “Blue & Grey” where the drums begin to layer, the arrangement of BE evolves constantly in line with each member’s part.

BE also takes on new challenges in format.. The chorus in “Blue & Grey” has such long melodies that it has no clear ending, and it fades out for the post-chorus that triggers an image of a lonely winter night with gloomy vocals. The post-chorus might seem like an abrupt shift but many devices contribute to giving this song the bleak wintery night vibe: RM’s somewhat distant rapping delivered through left and right on stereo that echoes through the room as well as the vocal recording that applied different echoes depending on lyrics and the solemn sounding cello. “Life Goes On” progresses in a similar fashion, starting with percussions ringing right next to your ears that create multi-layered sounds and taking you to an imagined space by blending the chorus and synthesizer. The story they tell resembles confessions about emotional states or specific circumstances, and the melodies unfold and rap flows in new ways as the story progresses While there are a lot of shifts, there is consistency in that sounds build the same sense of space. “Stay,” while being an EDM piece, ends on a rather blue note after phasing out beats that earlier set the stage for the dancefloor stomper. It makes sense given that the song is Jung Kook’s imagination of performing in front of the fans; Festivities in the song are interrupted by the fading out of vocals and overall sound layers. “Telepathy” offers a catchy hook in a song filled with bouncy spirit, just like “Dynamite” does. But the difference lies in that “Dynamite” brings out the explosive energy through repetition of melodies and variation of rhythms and that “Telepathy” phases itself out by reducing the number of sounds. “Fly to My Room” is about coming to terms with life in the pandemic, but the acknowledgment doesn’t necessarily make such a life enjoyable. Adding vibrant melodies isn’t a solution to challenges that accompany work, which are conveyed in “Dis-ease.” Such are the mixed feelings we experience in life—in which we have no control over a break or our approach—that are clearly expressed in the album by highlighting each member’s part and various shifts. Despite the numerous musical turns, the album has been produced in a way that ensures its consistency throughout the entire work; “Life Goes On” leaves you with the chorus where the seamless melodic flow seems like it’ll just keep on going.

In “Skit”, BTS is talking about how they’re practicing their debut song for performance eveon on the day after “Dynamite” became No.1 on the Billboard Hot 100. After they topped the chart with “Dynamite”, they came back with an album filled with songs seemingly the polar opposites of their hit single. Life seems to be on a loop but changes suddenly appear, and previous routines end up different because of this newness. BE is an acceptance of such peculiarity of life rather than an answer to it. BTS began with K-pop and now have become superstars of pop, and they’ve harnessed the power of their own story in the album by choosing neither path. The team that began its journey with “No More Dream” and have traveled to “Dynamite” leaves an open ending as to where they will head next. Still, the next chapter will be shared regardless of what it shapes up to be. That is why they can leave us wondering what comes after BE.

Trans © Weverse

[lahyene]

Lone No More.

Pairing: bucky barnes x reader ft. shuri

Summary: You find yourself falling for the “White Wolf” when he moves to Wakanda, where you’re currently studying abroad for your major.

Themes: romance, fluff

Word count: 1283

You brush a strand of your hair behind your ear in the light breeze, eyes focused on the mysterious one-armed farmer in his home slightly further away. You have heard all about the legendary Winter Soldier, or “White Wolf” as the Wakandans have taken to calling him, but you have yet to get to know him. You wonder if you can possibly connect with him- both of you are foreigners, seeing that you are an environmental studies major from the US completing research in Wakanda. You love the people here, but it sometimes feels a bit lonely not having anyone who can share at least a little bit of your background. Maybe a man born in the 1910s and trained to be a ruthless assassin isn’t particularly the most relatable, but you figure it’s worth a shot to get to know him anyways.

“Hey! Y/N! You are staring again.” Shuri looks at you with amusement and you quickly snap back, clearing your throat. 

“It wasn’t staring, I was just… observing! We don’t really ever have new people here…”

“Just go talk to him. He won’t bite. Not anymore, at least, thanks to me.” She teases, referring to her little job of returning his brain back to normal. “He could probably use a friend. Or… something more…” She gives you a smirk, eyebrows lifting and you laugh, immediately nudging her. 

“Quit it! It’s not like that!” You watch him feeding his goats outside, barely biting your lip. “I would like to at least be friends though. Do you think maybe you could…”

Shuri chuckles, rolling her eyes playfully and grabbing your arm already pulling you towards his humble home. “Come on, come on. But you have to let me embarrass you just a little.” You whine half playfully, starting to regret wanting her to come along, but it’s too late now. She approaches the pathway going up to his house, calling out, “Oi! White Wolf! I have someone I want you to meet.” 

You blink, somewhat blushing slightly. “Shuri! You don’t need to make it sound… I don’t know, like I have other intentions or something!” you hiss quietly, but when the lone man looks up and makes eye contact with you, you’re momentarily distracted.

Wow.

He definitely looks like he’s seen some things- bad things- and your heart already hurts for him. However, at the same time, he has a sense of confidence and optimism in his brown eyes that makes you feel an odd sense of pride and respect despite not even having made formal introductions yet. You’ve never felt so impacted by someone.

“Hello,” he greets, coming down the pathway- one arm by his side while a shawl drapes over the other side. You force yourself not to stare. “Bucky. Nice to meet ya.” He extends his hand and you immediately smile, placing yours in his. 

“Y/N. You too, I’ve heard so much about you. I hope you’ve been settling in well.” 

Shuri watches with a mischievous smirk, crossing her arms. “Of course he has. He’s had the best caretaker in the galaxy. Even though he is incredibly high maintenance.” She makes a playful face at him and he scoffs softly in amusement, a slight twinkle in his otherwise dark eyes as he just barely smiles. You wonder how often he’s even been able to do that within the past decade.

Before either of you can respond to her remark, she suddenly drops her mouth open in exaggerated concern. “Oh, no! I just remembered that I was supposed to meet my brother. You know how he is, just as needy as you are.” She nudges Bucky before looking to you with an innocent smile. “You two have fun though!” 

Your eyes widen as you spin around, watching her practically scamper off. “Shuri- '' you call, but there’s no use- you stare after her fading figure for a few moments before turning back to him, laughing awkwardly. “I’m sorry, she’s a piece of work…”

He laughs quietly, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah. Believe me, I know. But she’s a good kid.” He looks at you for a few moments and you find yourself having no idea what to say- you’re getting slightly anxious because it’s becoming more awkward, but he suddenly breaks the silence.

“Want to come inside?”

_

“Come here, Steve! It’s dinner time!”

The tiny tan colored goat looks up from having been angrily headbutting the fence, looking slightly annoyed to be interrupted but reluctantly coming over nonetheless due to the fact that you’re holding food. Bucky comes up behind you, wrapping his one arm around your waist and clucking his tongue. “I can’t believe you named one of our goats after my best friend.”

“What? He’s exactly like how you described pre-serum Steve! The little guy, always fighting everything. He’s even blond!” you pointed out in protest, leaning over slightly to give the goat some food. 

Bucky can’t help but chuckle, eyes flickering over the scrawny runt. “Alright, alright fair.” He kisses your cheek, peering at the other goats eating their food. “I just think Steve is a ridiculous goat name. But you’re lucky I like you enough to let it be.” He glances down at you with a smirk and you roll your eyes fondly, though happily hold his arm around you. “What a relief. I feel so honored,” you reply playfully sarcastic.

You and Bucky have been together for nearly six months now. You clicked right off the bat upon meeting that first day- after inviting you inside, the two of you had talked for hours and hours. You felt like you had known him your whole life, and now, he’s your best friend and partner. Shuri constantly teases you and jokes that your relationship is all thanks to her, and in a way, it's true- you wonder if you would have ever had the courage to approach him yourself. You laugh at such a fear now; back then, he seemed so intimidating and aloof, and now, you know him as a little flirtatious goofball who loves to tease. You’ve noticed a significant improvement in his mental health, and you couldn’t be happier that he’s becoming healthier each day.

“Mm. That’s right. Now come on, sassy girl, it’s time for our dinner.” He takes your hand and leads you inside the hut, sitting down with you at the small wooden table where the food is already laid out. Fresh bread, cheese, and warm stew- you barely even find yourself missing food from back home now that you have such an amazing partner to eat farm fresh food with.

He notices you looking at the food with a little too much fondness in your eyes, and he reaches over to poke at your side playfully. “Hello? Anyone in there? I know you love food but I’ve never seen you space out over it.” You blink and giggle slightly, poking him back. “Yeah, I was just… thinking about something. You. And that I love you a lot.”

He looks at you and smiles softly, eyes gazing at you lovingly.

“Well. Isn’t that sweet of my little doll. I love you too.” He leans in to peck your lips gently before pulling back. “Now eat up. It’s a lot of work cooking with one arm you know, don’t let it go to waste.”

You laugh softly, lifting his hand to kiss his fingers cutely before nodding your head, serving yourself.

It’s a dangerous world the two of you live in, and he’s had an unfortunate past. You don’t know what’s to come, but you’re confident that as long as you’re by each other’s side, everything will work out in the end.

[aadmelioraa]

Merry + Bright 

for @tsukkinami​‘s TLK Monthly Challenge: Osferth, Boxing Day, Lights, Affectionate (aka, Holiday Fluff with the Cookham Crew)

“D’ya know where my keys are, Osferth?” Finan shouts from the next room over.

Osferth trips over a pile of laundry that, judging by the number of black t-shirts, belongs to Sihtric and falls backward.

“Jesus, lad.” Finan bounds into the room and pulls him to his feet.

“What on earth is that?” he asks, gesturing to the box that Osferth is clutching to his chest.

“Nothing, just some things I need to drop off at the church. Father Pyrlig is collecting donations.”

Finan lifts his chin to peer into the box. “That’s the sweater I gave ya last Christmas.”

He’s right. It’s a particularly ugly sweater. “Yeah, well…I grew out of it.”

Finan laughs. “I won’t take offense. But ya’ve quite a lot of clothing there, ya sure ya won’t be wandering naked come laundry time?”

“I have more than enough clothes, thank you.” Osferth follows Finan back into the room he and Uhtred shared. “Do you have anything you’d like to donate?”

“D’ya think they’d accept my warm wishes, particularly for any young ladies in need?”

Osferth grimaces and wraps a scarf around his neck. “I don’t know that anyone would find that particularly helpful.”

read the rest below or on ao3

“Pity. I have a few hats in that drawer there, I only really wear the one.”

Osferth gingerly hands Finan the worn black beanie he’s not often without this time of year and adds the remaining hats to his donation box. Finan pulls the hat down over his ears with a grin.

“Now you’re telling me that you’re helping Father Pyrlig out of the goodness of your heart, and not, say, a desire to get closer to the cute girl with the braids I’ve seen ya making eyes at?”

Osferth meticulously folds the top flaps of the box over each other, making sure the envelope of cash tips from his restaurant job doesn’t get lost in the mess of textiles. “I’ve no idea who you mean.”

Finan laughs and shakes his head.

To be honest, he isn't too far off—except that Osferth and Willa have been dating for weeks now. He’s planning to bring her to the house and introduce her to everyone next term. For now, he’ll let Finan think he had the upper hand even though Finan himself is pining over a girl he’d spoken to about twice.

“You’re headed to the church now then?” Finan’s coat makes a slight jangling noise as he pulls it on. “Ah, found my keys.”

“Yes, they’re serving dinner in about half an hour.” Osferth glances at Finan from the corner of his eye as he puts on his own coat. “Eadith will probably be there, she’s been helping Prylig organize the donations.”

Finan pulls the corners of his mouth down and nods casually as if that information is virtually meaningless to him. Osferth chuckles into his scarf as they make their way down the narrow hall and into the kitchen.

“Where are you two headed?” Eahlswith asks from her perch on the counter. She’s licking icing off a spatula while Sihtric decorates yet another batch of sugar cookies. He’s bent over the slightly lopsided kitchen table wearing a thrift store apron, meticulously applying sprinkles. Sihtric, for what it is worth, is the only member of the house with anything resembling a normal, stable love life.

“Church supper,” Finan answers as if it had been his idea. “Sihtric, are ya going to take a break from that? You've been baking for half the day now.”

“He’s got to finish decorating before the icing dries,” Eahlswith explains, rolling her eyes, as Sihtric mumbles, “I’ve only got thirty seconds per cookie to make it look really good.”

Osferth snatches an un-iced cookie off the tray and pushes the whole thing in his mouth before Sihtric can stop him. “I didn’t take one of your fancy ones!” he says defensively as Sihtric throws a dirty look in his direction and picks up the piping bag.

“We’ll see ya soon, then?” Finan says to Eahlswith.

“We may still be here when you get back,” she sighs, picking up her phone. Sihtric waves a hand at them distractedly as they step outside.

The winter chill is refreshing after the stuffy sugar-filled air of the kitchen. Osferth shoves his hands in his pockets and bumps Finan with his shoulder as he catches a glimpse of Uhtred on his way towards them.

“Boys!” Uhtred calls with a grin. “I was just coming to find you. Finan, Eadith was asking about you.”

“Was she?” Finan asks, slightly more flustered than he probably would have liked to appear.

“Well, she asked where my mates were, I can only assume she meant you.”

Finan mutters something unintelligible under his breath as Uhtred and Osferth exchange an amused glance.

“I didn't know that you were allowed in church, Uhtred,” Osferth says, stomping one boot against the ground to keep warm. “Didn’t Father Beocca ban you for stealing the communion wine?”

“Yes, but in my defense, it hadn’t been blessed yet,” Uhtred grins. “I got roped into helping Hild clean, then she sent me to find you two…and where is Sihtric?”

“Finishing his cookie decorating,” Osferth says.

“He may be several more hours,” Finan adds. “There were nine types of sprinkles on the table when we left—they seem to multiply every time I turn ‘round.”

“The man has hidden talents,” Uhtred shrugs, heading down the street. “I’ll meet you back at the church, I have to drop something off at Gisela’s first.”

It’s Finan and Osferth’s turn to exchange a glance. Whenever Uhtred has to “drop something off at Gisela’s” they usually don’t see him until the next morning.

Uhtred ignores them, merely calling over his shoulder that he’ll return soon.

The snow begins to fall by the time they arrive at the church and carefully make their way down the side entrance into the basement.

Young priest Father Beocca and his wife Thyra (Uhtred’s older sister) had begun the Boxing Day dinner tradition four years ago on a whim. They’d invited all the students who remained in town during the holidays to dinner at their house on the 26th and in return asked for donations to local families in need, but by last year it had become such a popular event that they’d had to begin hosting it at the church. This year, several students had returned for the day after spending Christmas at home. It’s always a casual but comforting affair.

The basement room, which smells like freshly baked bread and Beocca’s famous lentil soup, is crowded with folding chairs and students who have gathered in small groups to sort donations into the designated bins. Osferth drops his box (and Finan) with Eadith and makes his way over to Willa and Thyra who are preparing the buffet. Willa gives him a quiet smile which he reciprocates as subtly as possible.

“Sihtric will be here with the cookies soon,” Osferth explains, hoping it isn’t too much of a lie.

Thyra smiles cheerfully and hands him a stack of mismatched bowls. “Set those out, won’t you?”

Osferth does, making note of how many more students were in attendance this year. The energy in the church basement is anything but cold and dim—Father Prylig has set up an artificial tree in one corner, and Hild and Mildrith are stringing some colorful lights up above the door.

“Better late than never, right?” Aethelflaed asks, appearing beside him.

Osferth glances down at the cheese board she’s holding. “You don't think that’s overdoing it a bit for this ragtag group?” he asks affectionately.

She laughs and set the platter down. “Maybe, but I didn't want the leftovers from Mum’s Christmas party to go to waste.” She begins to arrange toothpicks for serving, her brow furrowing just slightly. “I’m sorry you couldn’t make it, by the way. Maybe next year?”

It’s an awkward situation, trying to connect with a half-sibling you’d only known about for the past few months, but she’s doing her best.

“Yeah, maybe next year,” Osferth agrees.

She gives him a small smile and glanced across the room. He follows her gaze to where Aldhelm and Edward are arranging half a dozen mismatched tables into two long lines. Edward hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea of a half-sibling yet, so things are a little more awkward between them.

“He’ll come around,” Aethelflaed says confidently. Osferth wishes he shared her optimism, but he won't dampen her spirits.

“Oh, here—“ Aethelflaed offers him a small package wrapped in brown paper. “I was going to give it to you yesterday, but…” she trails off, a bit nervous—he hasn't seen her nervous before.

“It’s just something silly. You can open it later,” she adds, with a look towards Edward who now has his back to them.

“Thanks,” Osferth says, smiling widely, as he slips the gift into his pocket. “I didn’t get you anything—“

“Don’t worry about it,” Aethelflaed replies, eyes now fixed on Aldhelm who’s making his way over. “Next year.”

Aldhelm nods a greeting to Osferth and then begins to ask where to find tablecloths, which to Osferth appears to be a thinly veiled pretext to talk to Aethelflaed. She didn’t seem to mind.

“Your housemate is making quite a mess of the donations.” Hild is on his left now with a stack of napkins.

“Yes, but better that than the food,” Osferth points out.

Hild chuckles quietly. Finan has an unfortunate talent for making even the simplest dishes inedible.

“I see you and Willa are still keeping things a secret,” she adds, one eyebrow arched.

Hild is the only person who knows they are dating, and it was entirely because she’d accidentally walked in on them making out one day after choir practice. Osferth isn’t worried she’ll tell anyone, but the fact that two days later he ran into her on the way out of Willa’s hall one morning is an extra layer of security. Hild and Iseult, Willa’s RA, aren't “officially” dating yet either.

The tables are ready, the food all laid out. Brida, Thyra and Uhtred’s sister (who, to be honest, scares Osferth a bit) yells for everyone to make a plate.

“Thanks,” Osferth murmurs to Willa as she pulls a book off the chair next to hers.

“I think Thyra is on to us,” she whispers back, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

Thyra is indeed beaming at them from the other end of the table.

“She’s a lot smarter than Finan,” Osferth whispers back, and Willa laughs.

Sihtric bursts into the room now, carefully balancing two large trays of sugar cookies. Eahlswith enters on his heels with another tray.

“Finally!” Finan shouts.

“He’d still be decorating if I hadn’t taken away his sanding sugar,” Eahlswith says to Thyra, somewhat apologetic. “Yesterday I didn’t even know what sanding sugar was.” She sounds like she wishes she could go back.

Sihtric oversees the display of his cookies with great pride, then he and Eahlswith manage to squeeze two more chairs around one of the tables.

Thirty minutes later nearly everyone’s plate is empty. Every year Thyra tells Beocca he’s made too much food and every year she’s proven wrong. Finan, as usual, starts the singing, and nearly everyone has joined in by the time Uhtred and Gisela join them.

It’s getting late, and everyone will probably head back to Uhtred’s house to drink after cleaning up, so Osferth helps clean up his table, thanks Beocca, and heads back to the house, taking a few bags of trash out on his way.

He lingers a block away, scarf pulled up around his ears, where Willa meets him.

“Hey,” she grins, and rises up on her toes to kiss him. Snowflakes catch and melt on her eyelashes, making her brown eyes sparkle even more.

He interlaces his fingers with hers as they make their way back to the house, carefully sidestepping patches of ice and hard ridges of snow.

“Everyone will probably head back this way soon,” he says, glancing behind them as if Finan and Uhtred would be barreling down the street any moment.

“I figured,” she says, lightly squeezing his hand. “It’s not the worst day for them to find out you have a girlfriend, right?”

Osferth grins. “No, definitely not.”

When, an hour later, Finan finds out, he exclaims “I knew it!”

Osferth lets him have this one.

[spidersfanfics]

Let’s Make the Most of the Night

Eridan x Karkat | Valentine’s Day | Angst

Happy Valentine's Day! I'm a monster so I wrote some angst :D Eridan goes on a date with Karkat for their anniversary. That's all :)

"Happy anniversary, Kar." Eridan said softly, handing over a bouquet of red roses. "I got you some flowers. And before you ask, no it's not a jab at your blood color. They're red for flushed feelings," he chuckled.

The sun shined down brightly as birds overhead chirped cheerfully. Eridan's stomach growled and he laughed sheepishly, "Let's eat why don't we?" He reached over and grabbed the picnic basket that had been prepared for the occasion.

Eager to get started, Eridan dug into the basket, pulling out sandwiches, salad and a bottle of wine. "Yes, wine," Eridan said with a playful smile, "I know sandwiches aren't exactly gourmet but it's a special occasion. Alright? We go over this every year."

A pause.

"And every year I win, don't I Kar." Eridan laughed as he poured out the wine. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

As he dug into his food and sipped on his drink, he began to fall deep into thought. A look of reminiscing painted across his face as he relaxed.

"Do you remember our first date?" He asked, breaking the silence that had briefly fallen. He smirked and shook his head, "No come on, let me tell it. I know I do this every time but that's only because it's cute every time."

He set down his wine glass and leaned back. His eyes grew distant as he cast his mind back. "Alright, let's see."

~ ~ ~

It was nearing the end of winter. No, not quite spring yet. That first date didn't count for the anniversary day, they'd agreed on that ages ago.

Eridan was handling the cold just fine as a seadweller, but Karkat's mutant blooded self always found the season miserable.

"GOG IM FREEZING MY FUCKING GLOBES OFF OUT HERE", Karkat texted Eridan. He'd just gotten off of work that day and was waiting for the bus to take him home.

Eridan texted back a moment later, "Wwe could go get some coffee together if you'd like. Might help to wwarm you up."

Karkat hesitated only a second before agreeing, "FUCK IT, WHY NOT. YOU KNOW WHERE I AM."

"Great, I'll pick you up in a minute. Don't freeze to death wwaiting for me."

"HA HA VERY FUNNY. JUST HURRY UP."

True to his word, Eridan was there not long after and the two of them drove over to a nearby coffee shop. They ordered their drinks and were just about to pay when Eridan stopped Karkat.

"Wait, let me pay for the both of us."

Karkat raised an eyebrow at him but let it slide and the pair brought their drinks to an empty table, tucked away in a quiet corner. Karkat took a slow sip of the drink and winced at the sudden temperature change.

After a long moment, he spoke up. "So, tell me Ampora. Is this a date?"

Eridan nearly choked on his drink. His face flushed a violent violet and he spluttered, "I mean. I was kind of hoping, that is I was going to ask at the end if. Well, do you want it to be one?"

Karkat stared forward evenly for a long while before rolling his eyes, "Yeah whatever. Why ruin a good thing right? This is our first date."

"Ah," Eridan said weakly, still coughing slightly. "Lovely," He gave Karkat a wary smile. When Karkat returned it without a trace of mockery, his fins fluttered excitedly and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

Soon, they had both finished their drinks, as well as the slices of cake Eridan had insisted on buying for the two of them. "Well, I'd better head home for real now." Karkat said, gathering up their trash and sweeping it into a nearby garbage can.

"Yeah, do you need me to drive you?"

He shook his head and glanced at his watch, "There's a bus coming soon. I'll be fine." He paused then pulled Eridan into a hug, "Thanks for the food and drinks, Ampora. This was fun. Maybe we should do this again sometime."

When he pulled away, Eridan was blushing once more. "Yeah, we should," he agreed with a chuckle. He pulled his car keys out of his pocket and twirled them around his finger, "I'll see you around. Text me when you get home?"

"Sure," Karkat laughed and the two parted ways.

~ ~ ~

Eridan finished his reminiscing and his sandwiches at around the same time and he smiled lovingly. "The first of many lovely dates to come," he said.

He reached back towards the picnic basket and opened it up again. After some quick rummaging, he pulled out a couple of cupcakes. "They didn't have cake slices when I went this time but these are from that same coffee shop." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "Is that too cheesy? I thought it would be a nice surprise."

He unwrapped one and took a bite before thinking once more of another story to tell. "Oh, well of course if we're going to talk about our past, we should talk about the day you asked me out." He laughed, "Still can't believe you beat me to it. That's why I insisted on being the one to propose you know. Oh but that's a whole other story."

As if fearing the silence, Eridan launched into yet another story.

~ ~ ~

"AMPORA, WE'RE STILL ON FOR OUR DATE TODAY RIGHT?"

Eridan smiled at yet another text from a familiar number.  "Of course wwe are," he texted back, "Same thing I told you the last thousand times you asked. In fact, I'm gettin' ready right noww. Evverythin alright?"

It didn't take long for the response, "YEAH YEAH EVERYTHINGS FINE. JUST MAKING SURE. ILL BE THERE SOON, DONT KEEP ME WAITING FISHDICK."

"As if I evver do," Eridan shot back with a laugh as he fixed his hair, "You wwound me." Despite his words, he still smiled warmly at his phone. They'd been going on regular dates for some time now and he'd already decided he'd ask Karkat to be his matesprite properly soon. He couldn't wait.

A few minutes later, the ringing of the doorbell alerted him to Karkat's arrival. He ran eagerly to the door and opened it with a wide smile. "How's that for quick, Kar," he teased.

Karkat scoffed but still handed Eridan white rose, "Here, gift for you."

"Charming," Eridan laughed as he slipped it into a vase he kept by the door for this very reason. "Now let's get going. We don't want to be late for our reservation."

The two drove over to a fancy restaurant where Eridan had booked a table for them to enjoy. And after a delicious dinner, they decided to go for a stroll through a nearby park.

As the night drew to a close, Karkat stopped Eridan before they could start heading back to his car. "Hey Ampora," he said, taking both of Eridan's hands.

"What's up Kar? You've gone all stiff."

Karkat cleared his throat awkwardly. "I've got something important to tell you," he said, "So shut the fuck up and don't ruin it."

Eridan raised an eyebrow but stayed silent as he was told and nodded at Karkat to continue.

"We've been going on these dates for some time now," Karkat said, speaking quickly as if to stop himself from chickening out. "And I was wondering if you'd want to be my matesprite. Properly and officially."

"You're kidding," Eridan said his jaw dropping. He scrambled to keep talking before Karkat could snap at him for the less than optimal answer. "No wait, yes, yes. I would love to be your matesprite," he laughed, "It's just that I was thinking of asking you out soon and here you are doing it first instead."

Karkat tried for an annoyed look but ended up laughing along anyway, "Yeah well, guess I'm just better than you like that."

~ ~ ~

Eridan sighed, leaning back on his hands. "You should have seen your face when you thought I was about to reject you," he laughed, wiping away a tear.  "As if I would ever be that stupid."

He shook his head, "No. Never. And so many good days came out of that one yes, didn't it? God remember moving in together? And our wedding?"

Taking just a second to catch his breath, Eridan started talking again. Telling story, after story, after story. Before long, evening had fallen. The food he'd brought was long gone and in fact it was nearly time for dinner.

"Well," Eridan said softly. He gathered up various wrappers and tupperware to throw back into the basket before standing up with a grunt. "Should probably head home now."

His voice wobbled as he lifted his hand to his mouth and blew a kiss at the grave before him. "I miss you," he said. Tears flowed freely now, trailing violet down his face. "I'm doing alright though," he managed. "Kanaya told me to say hi. Feferi too."

With a heavy sigh, Eridan picked up his things and turned to leave. "Until next year," he said, glancing back one last time.

A pity lowbloods always die so young.

[angst-fairygodmother]

May I please request winter tropes 1 and 10 for Merry lotr? Thank you!

A/N: Sorry it's taken so long, dear Nonny. I hope you enjoy! Word Count: 1519 Prompts: blizzard/snowed in, baking cookies

“Mm,” your best friend hummed as he walked in, “something smells delicious.”

“Merry!” you cried excitedly, wiping your hands on the apron you were wearing as you rushed to greet him. “I didn’t think you’d be here until tomorrow?”

“Maybe I told you that so I could surprise you.” His eyes sparkled with mirth as you threw your arms around his neck in a hug. 

“Well it certainly worked.” You pulled back reluctantly out of his arms and fixed him with your sternest look. “And since you’re here, I’m putting you to work.”

He groaned exaggeratedly, as if he hadn’t anticipated that you would be hard at work trying to get ready for the midwinter celebrations that always overtook the entire town of Bree and that you had been granted the honor of arranging this year or that you would enlist his help with it. 

“Go settle your things in the other room while I finish supper,” you said, shooing him. “You must be famished and tired from the trip. Did you come all the way from Hobbiton today?”

“No, no,” he called from the hall as you returned to the kitchen. “I stayed with Farmer Maggot for the night and set out from there this morning. He and his wife send their greetings.”

You smiled. Merry somehow managed to know every hobbit on both sides of the Brandywine, and be friends with a considerable portion of them. It was one of the things you loved about him, along with his humor and his optimism and lust for life. He bordered on being very unhobbit-like, adventurous and wild and loud. But growing up alongside him, you had always been used to it, it felt as familiar and warm as an old coat put on after a long time in a trunk. And the stuffy old sort in The Shire could use a good stirring up once in a while. 

You turned to the sink to wash some extra dishes. Maybe someday, you’d have the guts to tell him how you felt. And then you could spend every day setting places at the table for two instead of just one.

~

“So, boss,” Merry teased, leaning on his elbows at your table. “What are my orders?”

“Well, do you want to finish up the decorations?” you offered. 

“As my lady commands,” he said, flashing you a wink that made your heart skitter and you ducked your head, face heating with a blush and hoping to hide the involuntary grin his words brought to your face.

There was something different about him these days, you thought as you walked him through how to make the interlocking loops of colored paper to create garlands. He was bolder (you marveled that such a thing was possible), more confident. He carried himself taller, prouder. Whatever had happened in the long months you’d been apart - and maybe you believed his wild stories of it all - had changed him. But you loved the new him, just as you had the old. 

His fingers brushed yours as he took the half-finished chain from you. You wished for a moment that you could borrow his new sureness so you could tell him how you felt, instead of the words always dying on the tip of your tongue.

“If you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen working on the desserts for the party,” you told him.

His eyes lit up. “Please tell me there will be some of your jam cookies?” 

And just like that he was the Merry you always knew, the one who would sneak away whole platters of the sugar dusted, jam-filled, shortbread pockets that your mother, and later you, made for town events. He claimed to share the cookies, and the blame, with others your age and younger like Pippin and Frodo and Fatty Bolger. But you had always suspected that the treats were all for himself, and you were flattered by it, especially since you made plenty and it wasn’t like a single platter really made a dent in the supply. 

“And so what if there will,” you teased with faux-stern hands on your hips. “Don’t think your charming hero act will let you get away with thievery the way you used to, Meriadoc Brandybuck.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Y/N,” he challenged, expression somehow a mix of a pout and a glare. 

“I’m sure you don’t. But remember, you’re the only guest tonight, so if even a single cookie goes missing before the festivities, I’ll know it was you.”

“On my honor as an integral member of the Fellowship of the Ring, I will not steal the cookies, I swear.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to respond to his oath, knowing that once he dragged in the now-famed Fellowship, there was no winning an argument against him. 

“We’ve both got work to do,” you said instead, before softening to smile at him. “It’s good to have you here Merry.”

“Of course I’m here, Y/N. Where else would I be?”

Your heart fluttered again and you bustled off into the kitchen.

~

You had worked well into the night, even several hours after Merry had stopped keeping you company and gone off to the guest bedroom to rest, making sure that you were prepared and that everything you could do before the day of the festivities was done. But the one thing you couldn’t control was the weather. And it was with a disappointed groan that you looked out your bedroom window early the next morning to find it covered in frost with the shadow of a snow drift resting on the sill. More flakes flurried down past the glass, and the wind whistled across your chimneys as you poked the fires in as many rooms as you could to warm your little home. 

“This is a disaster,” you complained to the air, sitting at your kitchen table with your head in your hands once that task was done. 

“What is?” Merry asked, emerging with a yawned good morning and claiming a seat so close to your own that your knees bumped occasionally under the table. 

“The weather. It’s snowing much too hard to have the festivities today. I can hardly even open my door to step out, let alone make it to the square.”

“So? You can just have it after the snow clears, and you won’t have to worry about getting the decorations ready because they already will be,” he offered. 

You shook your head, appreciative of his attempt to make the best of it but distraught nonetheless. 

“But all the food will go to waste, and it won’t be Midwinter anymore. And I’m sure you’ll have to return to the Shire and be about your duties and I was so looking forward to having you here this year. It’s been too long since we celebrated together. It was going to be perfect.” 

You sighed, trying not to cry in your frustration and disappointment. 

“We can still celebrate, the two of us here, make sure your feast doesn’t all go to waste. And actually, I won’t be returning to the Shire for a while. Family business has me staying for a while. Maybe even permanently, if I can get Frodo to sell me his house at Crickhollow. And if you want me around.”

You lifted your head to stare at him quizzically. He shrugged.

“I might be taking over as Master of Buckland someday. I’ve got to learn how before then. And I’ve missed you terribly.”

“Merry…”

“I merely meant that the storm is a setback not a disaster, and one that might not be so bad.”

“Merry.”

“I’ll even string some of the garlands and pine boughs in here if you like, make it seem a bit more festive. And when the storm is done, there will be a fresh snow to add natural decoration to all your hard work. As for it not being properly Midwinter, when have technicalities like that ever stopped a party before?”

“Merry!” you finally shouted, catching his attention as he rambled, one hand toying with a spoon on the table. 

“What?”

“Thank you,” you said softly. “For always knowing what to say. A celebration of just the two of us sounds...nice.”

“Good,” he grinned before raising an eyebrow. “About the feast. Will there--” 

“Yes, there will be jam cookies. If you’re really lucky, I’ll even teach you how to make them.”

“Why would I want to do that, when I’ll always have you to? I will always have you, won’t I?”

Something in his tone, or maybe the soft look in his eyes as they searched your face, for what you couldn’t say, told you that his question wasn’t just about making the treats, wasn’t about that at all really. Maybe today would give you the moment you needed, maybe this could even be it right now. Midwinter was meant to mark a turning point, after all. You couldn’t help but smile, and he matched the expression with a sigh of relief.

“Of course you will, Merry. Always and forever.”

[a-simp-for-haikyuu]

Hello there! Congrats on 600 followers~

I was wondering if I can ger a romantic male Haikyuu match up? Any team would be fine.

I'm a straight female, 5ft and 110lbs. I have short black hair and dark brown eyes. I'm slight on the chubby side as well. I'm in between pale and light brown skinned. I'm a pure Filipino and I have prescription glasses. I've often been called a "soft girl" but I really don't have a certain styles. My clothes are often t-shirts, off-shoulders, (of multiple color and style) and any type jeans. Hoodies and jackets are a must in winter season.

I'm often described as a chaotic motherly type of person. I love to tease others but it's not often. I can be loud and obnoxious at times but I prefer to stay quiet. I can also be such a flirt if I wanted too but I only reserve those skills when needed. My patience is very long and I don't get annoyed easily. Affection and words are my love language. I tend to get just a tad bit grumpy when I don't get affection. I'm a really observant person, so I'm able to pick up emotional cues, habits, and body language. I use that to check on people I care about. I try to act tough and strong so I would be a role model, since I'm the oldest child. I also tend to suppress my emotions and even fake them just so no one would be burden of me. I do share them if I trust you enough. I can also be really insecure about my abilities and looks.

I can be really insecure and really clingy. My insecurities tend to refer to my looks but most of the time it's on maybe people find me annoying. Not only that, I can also be moody, especially on that time of the month. I overthink things a lot. I sometimes even wonder if my friends actually are my friends. You all that trust issues (but honestly I don't think I have trust issues I just overthink things). I'm not afraid of material things or the supernatural. I'm afraid of being judged and left alone or abandoned. I hate the feeling the loneliness.

But I do give good advice, that's what alot of people tell me. My optimism and energy almost always lifts the mood up. I'm great with talking to people. May it be comforting them, persuading, I can do that. I'm also quite good at reading people. Especially if they are close to me and I've been through things alot with them.

I usually listen to pop or ballad but I like almostvall types of music. Songs like IDK you yet by Alexander23 or This is gospel by Panic at the disco are some of my favorite. My star sign is Cancer but I don't really believe it but I love learning about it. I'm an INFP-T (The dreamer) and my Hogwarts house is Ravenclaw! I love learning and doing new things. Science is my favorite subject, specifically Biology/Zoology. I sing and write stories as a hobby.

Thanks! I hope the information suffices.

i related to a lot of that but just know you’re very valid and very beautiful 🥺💕

i match you with,,,

akaashi keiji !!

i see akaashi having very little to no relationship experience-

so you’ll have to bare with him while he tries to figure out what he’s doing-

but he’s very observant and learns quickly that you’re very affectionate

i see akaashi being v shy when it comes to pda but he will do little things like hand holding or linking pinkies- and if no ones looking or it’s a nice quiet area he’ll give you a kiss 😌

you’ve practically won the boyfriend lottery right here-

he gives you little reminders throughout the day to tell you to drink water and eat and if you tell him that you forgot or can’t right now he is going to show up with a home cooked meal and 3 bottles of water-

oKAY BUT HIS COOKING THOUGH? TOP TIER HONESTLY

need help studying? he’s already getting out his notes. didn’t understand the material? don’t worry he’s observed what kind of learner you are so he can best explain it to you. missed a day of class? he wrote down notes for you and did your work for you so you wouldn’t be too stressed coming back 🥺🥺

akaashi could tell you tended to hide your emotions but didn’t confront you about it due to the fact he didn’t want to upset you and waited for you to come to him about it- so instead he did little things to support you like checking up on you and making sure you were taking care of yourself and helping whenever he could

but when you do open up to him? he could feel his heart hurt a little so he could pulled you into him and held you so close while he whispered how beautiful you are and how much of a wonderful person you are- and he told you how much he loved you as well 🥺💕

if you ever let akaashi hear you sing or read something you’ve wrote? he’d only fall for you even more- and he didn’t think that was possible 😌🤚

he’s so supportive and proud of everything you do- he’s honestly you’re number one fan and is always there for his love :D

i hope you enjoyed!! 🥺❤️

[natashasbanner]

maybe we’ll meet again: Chapter 2

Mortals feared her and other immortals, aside from her sisters of course, avoided her at all costs. Macy had grow fond of her life of solitude. But when she crosses paths with a nature god named Harry, her entire world is turned on its head.

Modern Day Greek Myth AU.

A/N: As promised, chapter 2. Thank you to everyone who commented, they were very encouraging. 

Also on AO3

X

Maggie’s tastes were far too extravagant for Macy’s liking, but something she was willing to overlook for the sake of her happiness. On a secluded island, hidden away from the prying eyes of mortals, her sister’s home was nestled at the base of a mountain, overlooking the sea. The house was all glass windows and white marble floors and expensive furnishings. 

Her own home wasn’t exactly humble, but more subtle. 

As she’d expected, the house was overflowing with immortals. Music blasted from every corner and the flow of alcohol seemed endless. 

Macy sat outside by the pool, Cerberus at her feet. He was glamoured again to better fit in the house, but Macy fully intended on setting him free in the jungle later. She was reclined in one of the chaises around the pool, one of the brightly colored concoctions from the bar in one hand. It wasn’t bad, but was lacking in actual alcohol content. 

“Are you just going to sit there all day?” 

Macy glance down to see Mel watching her from the edge of the pool. 

“Maybe,” Macy answered, pushing her sunglasses up her nose. 

“Why don’t you come for a swim?” she asked, splashing water at Macy. “You look like you could use a cool down.” 

Macy rolled her eyes playfully and dropped a hand to Cerberus’ back. “She’s right, the water looks very inviting.” 

Mel’s eyes widened and she backed away from the pool’s edge as Macy smirked. 

“Macy, no,” Mel tried, but it was too late. Cerberus was already on his feet, ready to pounce. 

“Go ahead,” she whispered and lifted her hand. 

He took off toward the pool and Mel barely had time to get out of the way before he launched himself into the water, creating a splash that hinted at the large creature he really was. Macy smiled as he kicked around, licking Mel’s face. 

“Now that doesn’t seem very nice.”  

That voice immediately set Macy’s teeth on edge. Her grip on her glass tightened, but she kept her gaze fixed on her beloved pet tormenting her sister. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him sit in the chaise beside her and kick his feet up. 

“Your sister throws a lovely party,” he commented conversationally. “Though I must admit I don’t always make it to as many as I’d like.” 

Macy ignored him and sipped at her drink, now more than ever wishing it was ten times stronger. 

She heard him let out a short laugh. 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot last week,” he said and Macy glanced over at him.

His sunglasses were pushed up into his hair and his green eyes were studying her. Macy felt something stir inside her, a part she thought had long since frozen over. She softened, if only a fraction. 

“I think that might be an understatement,” she said with a scoff. 

He chuckled. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. I’m Harry Greenwood, god of spring and nature.” 

“Clever,” she said flatly, looking back at the pool. 

“I thought so.” 

She glanced over at him, giving him a quick once over. He was wearing ridiculous flowery swim trunks and an almost too white button up shirt, short sleeves this time. It was a bit too on the nose. 

“That would explain your overly cheerful disposition and your soft spot for the whims of mortals.” 

“Yes, well, I tend to look on the brighter side of most things,” he said, tilting his head. “After all, even after the harshest of winters, a flower will still blossom.” 

Macy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Nature immortals were all the same. 

He laughed and shook his head. “I’m sorry, that sounded incredibly cheesy, even to me.” 

“At least you’re self aware.” She’d give him that. 

“Now that’s a bit hypocritical for someone who looks ready to set fire to the first being that looks your way,” he pointed out, raising his eyebrows pointedly. 

Macy rolled her eyes. “Don’t tempt me.” 

She took another sip from her drink and was disappointed to find it empty. She wrinkled her nose and set the glass aside. 

“I’m Macy,” she told him, looking back at the pool. Cerberus was still kicking around happily now that everyone else had gotten out. She smiled softly. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Macy.” 

Macy turned to look at him skeptically. “I find that hard to believe.” 

His brow furrowed. “Why’s that?” 

She chuckled humorlessly. “Most immortals give me a wide berth. Look around, aside from my sisters, your the only to come within ten feet.” 

His eyes were soft as he regarded her, a small smile on his lips. She looked away, out at the sun setting on the horizon. 

“If they aren’t avoiding me, they’re plying me with gifts because they want something. More often then not it’s for the return of a mortal lover. Most would call you a fool for even walking over here.” 

She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to tell him any of that, but it seemed that once the floodgates were open there was no stopping the words from tumbling out. 

“Then I guess I’m a fool,” he said, his gaze dropping to his hands. “Their loss really.” 

Macy blinked, reaching blindly for her empty glass. 

“I need another drink.” 

He was on his feet in an instant, his fingers closing around hers on the glass. 

“Allow me.” 

Macy swallowed and met his eyes for a moment before pulling her hand back. She cleared her throat and nodded her head. 

“Thank you.” 

She watched him until he disappeared into the house. She saw Maggie skipping over and quickly schooled her features. Maggie was grinning and plopped herself down at her feet. 

“You two looked cozy,” Maggie said, looking pointedly at Macy. 

Macy avoided her eye. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “You and Harry, I saw you guys over here. What were you talking about?” 

“His odd infatuation with mortal romance novels.” 

“Fine, don’t tell me.” Maggie pouted. “I’m just happy you came. You need to get out more.” 

This argument again. After a few thousand years, she would think her sisters would let it go. She preferred her solitude, was that such a bad thing?

“I get out enough or did you forget the Underworld is a busy place.” 

“How busy could it be, everyone down there is dead.” 

Macy frowned. “I’m going to let that on slide, but only this once.” 

Maggie sucked in a breath and reached out to touch Macy’s hand. “I’m sorry, I just get worried about you being alone all the time. We both do.” 

She followed Maggie’s gaze to where Mel sat at the edge of the pool watching them. 

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t mind being alone,” Macy said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Besides, I’m not alone. I have Cerberus.” 

He came trotting over, ever the loyal companion and laid his head in her lap. She scratched behind his ears and he wagged his tail happily. 

“See,” she said looking pointedly at Maggie. “He’s all the company I need.” 

Maggie reached out to pet Cerberus and opened her mouth to say something, but Macy was saved from whatever else she had to say by Harry returning with two drinks in his hands. 

“For you,” he said, holding one out to Macy. 

Macy accepted the drink with a smile while he sat on the chaise, facing Macy and Maggie. 

“It’s good to see you, Har,” Maggie said. “It’s been too long.” 

“I’m afraid I’ve been busy in the mortal world.” 

Macy snorted into her drink and felt his eyes on her, but she ignored him in favor of giving Cerberus her full attention. 

“You’re always so busy,” Maggie said and Macy didn’t have to look up to know that she was pouting. “Like someone else I know.” 

“Some us don’t have our heads in the clouds,” Macy muttered. The earned her a soft chuckle from Harry. 

“I’m gonna go talk to Mel,” Maggie said, standing from Macy’s chair. “You two have fun.” 

Macy watched her go and join Mel on the other side of the pool, but looked away when both pairs of eyes fell on her and Harry. 

“So this is the ferocious beast that guards the Underworld?” 

“Of course,” she said, stroking Cerberus’ back. “I’m taking him down to the beach to let him stretch his legs. Would you like to join us?”

He brought a hand to his chest and smiled. “I’d be honored.” 

X

The moment she’d lifted the glamour, Cerberus took off down the beach all three of his heads barking happily. Harry was thoroughly amused when he returned with a log hanging from one of his mouths and dropped it at their feet. He’d happily obliged and was in an endless game of fetch. 

Despite herself, Macy found it terribly endearing. 

Finally bored with their game, Cerberus started splashing around in the waves and Harry came back over and sat beside her in the sand. 

“He’s incredible,” he said, his eyes still on Cerberus. 

Macy smiled. “Thank you.” 

“Such a shame you have to disguise him.” 

“It’s either that or leave him at home,” she said with a shrug. “He gets anxious if I leave him too long.” 

They fell into a comfortable silence and Macy watched the waves lap at the sand. The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon and she felt a peaceful calm wash over her. She couldn’t remember the last time she just sat and watched the sun set. 

“You know,” Harry spoke softly from her side. “I’ve heard countless tales of the great Ruler of the Underworld, but you’re nothing like I’d imagined.” 

Macy turned her head to look at him. “I take it that’s a good thing?” 

The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “A very good thing.” 

“Well you’re exactly what I imagined the god of spring would be like.” 

“And what might that be?” 

Macy tapped her chin, pretending to think for a moment before smirking as she watched the sun finish setting on the horizon. 

“Overly sunny, headache inducing optimism, childlike naivete, a fondness for brightly colored clothing.” She paused, turning her head to catch his smile. “Should I go on?” 

He sucked in a breath and shook his head as he let out a chuckle. “No, I think you pretty much covered it.” 

“It’d be endearing, if it weren’t so predictable.” 

He threw his head back and laughed. “That was almost a compliment. I’m shocked.” 

“I can take it back if you’d like,” she said. 

“Now that would really make me a fool.” He reached out and touched her hand. “I’ve enjoyed your company this evening, Macy.” 

Macy looked down at their hands, an unexplainable warmth filling her chest before she met his eyes again. 

“And I yours,” she told him honestly.  

He leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers. His gaze flicked to her lips and Macy closed the distance that remained between them. Her eyes fluttered closed and she lost herself in the feeling of his lips pressed against her. 

His lips were soft and almost unnaturally warm as they moved against her own. He brought a hand up to cup her cheek as his lips parted, deepening the kiss for only a moment before pulling away. She bit her bottom lip to keep from grinning like a fool when she opened her eyes. 

“I’m afraid I have to go,” he said softly. “But I’d very much like to see you again.” 

Macy looked down to where his hand was still covering hers in the sand. 

“I think that can be arranged.” 

“Meet me for coffee,” he said and squeezed her fingers. “Friday, at noon.” 

She reached out to run her fingers along his jaw before she nodded. “Okay.” 

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the tips of her fingers. 

“I look forward to it,” he said and disappeared with a pop, leaving a cloud of flower petals in his wake. 

Macy plucked one of the petals out of the sand and rolled it between her fingers. So theatrical, she thought, but a smile tugged at her lips despite herself.

[ltleflrt]

prompt please: dean/cas panties

Okay so fun fact about this story:  This is actually the first seed of an idea that developed into Satin and Sawdust, but I ended up not being able to use the premise for Reasons.  I always wanted to do this little meet cute ficlet though, so thanks for giving me an excuse.  Also thanks to @pallasperilous for helping me get over the tiny hurdle that I ran into with the plot :D

Working from home means pajamas as a uniform. There’s a lot of advice against it; stuff about “getting into aprofessional mindset” by “dressing like you’re going to the office” and otherbullshit that probably works for others, but Castiel doesn’t subscribe to thosenotions.  Especially not before he’s on his third cup of coffee, and eventhen, why dirty another set of clothing? He hates doing laundry.

Of course, he does haveto leave his apartment sometimes.  For meetings, or to deliver thefinished product to the office.  But for the short trips to the office topick up his mail and deliveries, pajamas are just fine.  It’snot like a t-shirt and some Ninja Turtle patterned sleep pants are indecent, oranything.

Not that he cares whatpeople think about how he’s dressed.  He’s only on coffee number two, andsocial functioning doesn’t start until halfway through cup three.

He’s more alert thanusual this morning though, even if he isn’t awake enough to justify changinginto normal daytime clothing.  A new neighbor has moved in across thehall, and Castiel catches him leaving for work sometimes.  The eye candy is almost equal to a third andfourth dose of caffenation.  Brown hair, scruff, freckles, and eithergreen or hazel eyes--maybe light brown?--plus a body built to kneel before inworship and supplication… The guy’s practically built to Castiel’s taste.

And oh how he’d like ataste.

Maybe he should startthe caffeine infusion earlier.  So he’ll feel fortified enough to start aconversation one of these days instead of just exchanging a smile, a wave, anda quiet hello before they go their separate ways.  And he can finally getclose enough to figure out the guy’s true eye color.  It would be worth getting up earlier.  He’s not a fan of mornings, but he’s a fan ofhot potentially single guys.  He can make an exception.

Unfortunately he seemsto have missed the object of his desire this morning.  The door across thehall stays firmly closed for the few minutes Castiel lingers, hoping to get hisother morning fix.  But he decides it’s just a little too chilly out toloiter any longer, and he heads down to the office to pick up his mail.

There’s three packagesfor him today, and he’s pleasantly surprised because he wasn’t expecting one ofthem for another day or two.  That means he can get started on the nextproject earlier than he’d promised.  Hecan use the extra time that saves him to stock up a few pre-made things for hisEtsy shop.

He goes over a mentalplan for what kind of crazy sweaters he can design for the shop as he opens theboxes.  He smiles as he unpacks the Alpaca yarn, pausing to pet the softgreen.  This one is for himself, and hepromises he won’t use it for any commissions this time.  He’s got a lovelyscarf in mind, and since the weather is getting cooler, he needs to get startedsoon if he wants to use it this winter.  

The second box is fullof regular wool, and he checks to make sure all the colors he requested wereincluded.  Last time his order had been short a few hanks, and it had beena huge pain in the ass to get everything straightened out with his supplier. Everything is fine this time though, and he’ll still be on track for hiscurrent projects.

The third box shouldcontain the vegan yarns.  Not his favorite to work with, but he respectsthat people choose a lifestyle that requires it, and they still want mittens,scarves, and sweaters.  Plus they’re usually okay with paying extra forthe cotton yarn instead of the acrylic. So as long as they’re willing to shell out the cash, he’s willing to knitout the goods.

When he opens the box, hesmiles when he’s greeted with a rainbow of colors and reaches in to pull outthe plastic wrapped skeins.  He rips at the plastic, and then hissub-optimally caffeinated brain catches up with reality and he realizes thathe’s not holding yarn at all, but something satiny.  Whole cloth, not thematerials to make it.

It’s a pair of panties.

Castiel blinks at thered satin in his hand.  “This is not what I ordered.”

He pulls out a few moreplastic wrapped bundles.  All panties. What the hell?  

Finally he reaches theorder sheet.  And when he reads the information printed at the top, horrorcreeps through him.  This package wasn’t meant for him.  He doesn’t recognize the name, but hedefinitely recognizes the apartment number.  It’s for… his new neighbor.  

“Oh, no.”

 ***

 Dean is more than readyto get home and relax after the day he’s had.  Too many fires to put outat the job site, and feathers to unruffle when he had to advise the client thatthe new timeline they were requesting wouldn’t be tenable.  Seriously whatis up with folks agreeing to an estimated finish date, and then wanting it donein half the time?  Entitled bastards.

At least it’s Friday,and he shouldn’t be needed for anything for the weekend.  He’s going tocozy up to a few beers and the episodes of Doctor Sexy building up in his DVRand relax.  

Plus, he’s got a packagewaiting for him that he’s been looking forward to for days.  Just thethought of it puts an extra bounce in his step as he locks up his car and headsfor the office.

Ten minutes later, hisgood mood goes up in a puff of metaphorical smoke.  The package isn’tactually there.

“Are you sure the emailsaid it was delivered today?” the receptionist asks for the third time.

He waves his smartphoneat her.  “Got the delivery notification email right here.”

Her vaguely hopefulexpression crumbles and she shakes her head.  “I’m so sorry, it’s reallynot here.  I even checked to see if itgot left on someone’s desk instead of in the mail room.  There isn’tanything addressed to you.”

Dean sighs and tucks hisphone away.  Well there goes part of his weekend plans.  And on topof it he has to deal with reporting a lost shipment to the vendor.  Funstuff.  “Thanks for checking anyway.”

She smilessympathetically.  “Have a good evening.”

Despite hisdisappointment about the missing package, his plans aren’t totally ruined. So his smile is mostly genuine. “Thanks, you too.”

A few minutes later helets himself into his apartment, and he leans back against the door and justbreathes for a few seconds.  It’s quiet and dark and it’s nice not havinganyone needing his attention.  It reallyhad been a rough week, and he feels like he hasn’t had a minute to stand stillfor days.  The only bright spots in his week have been the notificationthat his present to himself had been delivered, and the few times he’d caught aglimpse of his hot neighbor across the way.

Those are always gooddays.  It’s become something of an obsession for him to see what kind ofwacky pajama bottoms the guy’ll be wearing each time they meet.  Dude’sgot quite the collection, ranging from bumble bees, to kittens, to hammers andsaws, to superheroes.  Plus he’s fuckingsexy with his sleepy eyes and mumbled greetings.  He never quite lookslike he’s all the way awake, but he always greets Dean with a warm smile and adorky little wave that leaves Dean feeling light and bouncy all the way to hiscar.

Maybe when thisconstruction project is done he’ll take a few less intensive jobs. He can seeif his hot neighbor wants to hang out a bit.  Even if he’s not into dudes,it would be nice to make a friend in the new place.  Dean’s used to having a roommate, but nowthat he’s living on his own, it’s a little lonely in his down time.

“Oh well,” he says intothe empty apartment.  “At least I’ve still got Doctor Sexy.”

A light knock betweenhis shoulder blades startles him away from the door.  He looks at itsuspiciously for a moment before putting his eye to the peephole to see who’sknocking.  When he gets a glimpse of wild dark hair and blue eyes, hejerks back in surprise.

Why is Hot Neighborknocking on his door?

Only one way to find out.

When he opens the door,Hot Neighbor seems startled.  He stares up at Dean with wide, very blueeyes, that immediately make Dean’s world fall away for a few seconds.

“Oh,” Hot Neighborbreathes.  “Green.”

The non-sequitur bringeverything back. “What?”

“What?” his neighborparrots, squinting in confusion.

Oh no, he’s cute. Dean’s internal monologue sometimes has a knack for stating theobvious.  He shakes his head, dislodging the thought and dismissing the previousexchange.  “Uh, hi.”

Hot Neighbor shakes hishead too, apparently also needing the mental reset.  “Hello,” he says, anddamn his voice is just as sexy when he’s fully awake as it is when he’s sleepy. “You’re Dean, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me. How did you--?” The question cuts off when he realizes that Hot Neighboris holding a box.  That’s been opened. “Oh.”

Heat rushes into hischeeks when he realizes that this guy has probably seen what exactly is in thatbox.  It’s only slightly reassuring when he also blushes, all the way tohis hairline.  At least Dean’s not alonein his mortification.

“Sorry, I picked this upwith my other packages,” his neighbor says, holding the box out to Dean. He clears his throat and smiles. It looks forced.  “Your girlfriendhas excellent taste.”

Maybe it’s because he’stired, or maybe it’s shock from the situation, or maybe he’s just a dumbass,but Dean’s mouth opens and the truth comes out.  “No, these are for me.”

If the increased heat inhis cheeks is any indication, he’s about to spontaneously combust.

“Oh, um…”His neighbor lifts the box in Dean’s direction again.  His smile turns tosomething far more genuine.  There’shumor there, but also… maybe interest?  “Well, you haveexcellent taste.”

Okay yeah that’sprobably interest.

Dean finally takes thebox, unsure how else to respond to the compliment other than “thanks, man.”

The guy nods and grinsbrightly.  “Anyway, uh… have a good evening, Dean.”  He does hisdorky little wave and turns back to his own apartment.

Before he can open thedoor, Dean’s brain finally shifts into the correct gear.  “Wait, what’syour name?”

Hot Neighbor turns withhis hand on the knob.  “Oh, I’m Castiel. Or Cas.  People call me Cas.”

“Castiel,” Dean says,relishing the way it feels to say.  “I was going to veg out with a beerand some trashy TV.  I got a few extrabeers if you’d like a drink.”

HotNeighbor--Castiel--Cas, beams so brightly that Dean’s a little dazzled by it. “Yes, I’d like that.”

Thrilled, Dean stepsaside and gestures for Castiel to come inside.  When he shuts the doorbehind them, his eyes fall on Castiel’s ass. Through his admiration of the shapely body he notices that Cas is stillwearing pajamas.  They’re covered in Ninja Turtles.  “Dude, your pants are awesome.”

Castiel turns and flickshis eyes down at the box in Dean’s hands then meets his eyes.  “Yours too.”

“Maybe we can do afashion show for each other some time,” Dean suggests, feeling brave.  IfCas was going to be weird about the panties, he wouldn’t be here now, right?

“I think I’d like that very much.”

Oh yeah, they’re goingto get along great.  

Unless…

“I’ve got a bunch ofDoctor Sexy on the DVR.  That sound okay?”

Castiel practicallyglows with excitement.  “It’s my favorite show.”

Dean grins. “Awesome.  Have a seat, I’ll getyou that beer after I put these away.”  

Yup.  Definitelygoing to get along like a house on fire.

[tea-and-conspiracy]

Character Interview: Laelia

► Name ➔ "Who sent you?”

“...”

“Fine. Laelia Belisar, former Jen.”

► Are you single ➔ *laughs*

► Are you happy ➔ “Uh...strangely, yeah. I like it out here. This forest’s not so bad, and the aan are surprisingly friendly. I think more than anything I’m just happy to be rid of that mess back home. If I had to die here a gardener, I’d be alright with that.”

► Are you angry? ➔ “I’m angry at plenty of people. The Emperor. The Optimates. Whatever beast gave the order to fire on my squad. If you wanna declare war on your own, then fuck it, I’ll fight.”

► Are your parents still married ➔ “Yep.”

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “Garlemald, in the capitol.”

► Hair Color ➔ “Platinum blond, sorta white I guess.”

► Eye Color ➔ “Blue.”

► Birthday ➔ “Uh." *digs through her notes* “I guess it would beeee...the 26th sun of the 4th umbral moon? The hell is this system you use, anyway?”

► Mood ➔ “Bored, usually.”

► Gender ➔ “Female, last I checked.”

► Summer or winter ➔ “Back home it was perma-winter. Then I got stationed in damn Gyr Abania. I hate both. Give me fall.”

► Morning or afternoon ➔ “Oh hell, not mornings. Never morning.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ “Nope.”

► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “That’s stupid.”

► Who ended your last relationship ➔ “A thaumaturge.”

► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ “I doubt I’m that charming.”

► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “Weeeellll...”

► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ *she lifts up a fat little bullpup*

► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “If I did, they really nailed it on the secret part.”

► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “I just don’t get my hopes up, then I don’t have to bother.”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ “Uh...hell. I don’t know. Lust’s easier, I guess.”

► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Can I spike the lemonade?”

► Cats or Dogs ➔  *she presents the bullpup again*

► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ "Only ever known my squad. Just those few of us crashed in the back of the Delphinus at night, shooting the shit and teaching Vicky things. S’was all I needed.”

► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ "The more wild, the better!” *grins*

► Day or night ➔ “I dunno. I sleep through both.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ “Heheh...nope.”

► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ *cough*

► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “Don’t think so.”

► Wanted to disappear ➔ “I’ve been trying to disappear. So I’m a little pissed that you found me in the first place.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ “Smile, I guess. I love making people smile.”

► Shorter or Taller ➔ *shrug* “As long as they’re not, like, popoto-sized.”

► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ “You don’t have to be a genius, but you have to have wit. Make me laugh. Surprise me. Find us adventure. That’s attractive.”

► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ “Eh. Hookups. No one gets disappointed that way, and it’s easier when they die.”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ “Uh. Sort of. I’m not exactly the favorite child, if you know what I mean. Tacitus always had my back, though. You couldn’t ask for a better big brother.”

► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ *laughs* “Oh yeah.”

► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ *she glances around and lifts her arms in a “what the fuck” sort of gesture*

► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “I kicked myself out.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “Ughh, hate’s so much damn effort. If I hate someone, I just shoot them. NO, I don’t hate my friends, what sort of logic is that?”

► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “I’d die for ‘em.”

► Who is your best friend ➔ “Maxima...” *begrudging sigh* (( OOC: pyr Sawyer, not NPC Maxima :P ))

► Who knows everything about you ➔ “I guess the squad knows me best...those few of us who survived, anyway. I’m not really a complex person, there’s not too much to know.”

--------

tagged by: @hellsbovnd​ , thank you O Wiggly One!

tagging: @endangered-liaison​ (for Max), @arcianmartell​ (for Vicky), and any of my other Garlic friends -- I don’t know that I know your tumblrs and we need to remedy that!

[mtaportia]

THE OFFICIAL RELEASE

Alright guys, it’s finally happened! Today at 9am GMT, My Time at Portia left Early Access, which, of course, included a big content update (3.9GB) as well! 

Since there’s always a lot of stuff in the Changelist, I decided to once again make an ordered overview of the changes and include a little FAQ for the future of Portia as well! :) Remember, I’m not affilated with Pathea or Team17 in any way, but I will, of course, only use the official information I can find all over the web.

The changes are under the cut, and, as always, have fun playing!

1) Storyline & NPC Missions | 

1.1) MAIN STORY & NEW QUESTLINES ☆ The main story- and questline has now been completely finished! A “summary UI” has been added to the end of the game. ☆ (New) sidequests for Ack, Alice, Arlo, Emily, Ginger, Sam and a newly introduced character, Penny the singer, have been added.

1.2) ADJUSTMENTS TO EXISTING MISSIONS

1.2.1) Adjusted expiration time for... ☆ ...the “Portia Bridge” mission (7 days) ☆ ...the “Tree Farm” mission (doesn’t expire) ☆ ...the “Lift” mission (doesn’t expire). ☆ ...South Block mission (requirement time & difficulty has been changed). ☆ ...the conversation with Gust after completing the mission “The Second Key” - it now has a time limit and can’t be repeated if you miss that.

1.2.2) Adjusted aquiring/trigger times for... ☆ ...the “Museum” mission. ☆ ...the “Harbor Construction” mission. ☆ ...the availability of the 2nd Relic Scanner upgrade (Ack has to be fixed).

1.2.3) Adjusted item requirements or consumption for... ☆ ...the ”Umbrellas Are Important“ mission (20 -> 10). ☆ ...the “The Desert Wind“ mission. 1.2.4) Other Adjustments ☆ The “Portia Bridge” mission got a new description that doesn’t differ from the actual mission you have to fulfill. ☆ The mission “To Fix A Pipe” now got a reminder. ☆ Adjusted mission rewards. ☆ Optimised the experience for some Gust, Mint, Emily, and Arlo sidequests.

2) Relationships & Communication |

2.1) REGULAR RELATIONSHIPS ☆ Dana can now be befriended. Yay! ☆ Since you now have to pay the Tree Farm & Mining Company, perks of Dawa and Dana will lower the cost of the Tree Farm and Mining Company respectively. ☆ Reaching a certain relationship with Merlin gives you the ability to rearrange stuff in the museum. ☆ The way Ack works for you has changed. Once you reach a certain relationship level with him, you’ll have to manually hire him - a paid service. Some actions require chips (cooking, planting). ☆ Meeting times for Ack and Mint have been adjusted. ☆ Added new relationship levels with Pinky, Scraps, and QQ. Furthermore, you can purchase an item to “un-adopt” them. ☆ NPC’s favorite items and gifts they want have been adjusted.

2.2) ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS ☆ You can now visit the beach to chat on dates! ☆ Alice has now an interaction with Jack after getting married. ☆ Gust received new conversations for when you propose, confess, date, and send gifts. ☆ No other event will overlap with the wedding date anymore. A wedding scene photo will be added to your photo album. ☆ Player's spouse will call player "Darling". ☆ Post-marriage features have been added, including anniversary missions, birthday parties (player & spouse) and side quests! ☆ The option of having or adopting a baby with your partner is now a possibility, and items related to it have been added (see “items”). As a requirement for having a baby, your partner can now go up to 12 hearts (”devotion”). ☆ If you break up, your relationship status will fall back to “friends”, if you divorce, the status will fall back to “strangers”.

3) Builder/Player Customization |

☆ You will now be able to choose a birthday for your builder (for existing characters the option will appear once you load a save). ☆ Furthermore, beards and facial decorations have been added (can be changed at the hairsalon), and there are new clothing options available. ☆ Lip colors have been adjusted.

4) Minigames & Events |

4.1) EVENTS ☆ Added party events (requires banket table), which gives you an opportunity to greatly increase relationship points with the townspeople. ☆ Some events and holidays can consume stamina now!

4.2) MINI-GAMES ☆ Fishing now features king fishes (+ a collection for them in the museum) and has a time overlay. ☆ The swing-minigame can now be played alone! ☆ The inspection-minigame features new items. ☆ While cooking you can get food directly without waiting. (Not a mini-game per se, but eh...)

5) Building, Exploring, Mining, Fighting, Museum |

5.1) BUILDING ☆ Assembly diagrams received in missions can be bought (Research Centre). ☆ New diagrams and crafting recipees have also been added. ☆ The Tree Farm and Mining Company now runs on a subscription instead of providing materials for free. 5.2) EXPLORING & MINING ☆ More treasure chests have been added! ☆ A flying mount (robopig) has been added. ☆ Adjusted the upgrade availability for the 2nd Relic Scanner. ☆ Players can mine all categories of mines and find new relics in the abandoned ruins in the swamp area. ☆ Video tapes that can be used watched by using the TV have been added to the abandoned ruins as well. 5.3) FIGHTING & MONSTERS ☆ It is now a possibility to order something to eat for a single person, which can restore your HP and gives you buffs! ☆ If your HP drops to 0, you will no longer have to start the day over, but rather respawn outside your house. ☆ Adjusted the drop rate and the reward rate of several items ☆ Several monsters have been added (Desert & Swamp). ☆ Llamas now have daily routines (like sleeping), more routines for other monsters will be added as well. ☆ Adjusted the number of monsters in several rooms inside the hazardous dungeon and the overall distribution of monsters. 5.4) MUSEUM / DONATING ☆ Donating 60 items to the museum now gives you a new reward. ☆ You can donate “king fish” to the museum now. ☆ You are able to rearrange items you’ve donated by befriending Merlin.

6) Items |

☆ A television has been added which is able to play the video tapes now found in abandoned ruins! ☆ Added new clothing options (as I’ve already mentioned). ☆ New items include wedding furniture (lamp, couch, etc.), a yoga mat and closet, plant-rank, weapon-rack for classification purposes. ☆ Dyeing items now requires you to have pigments in your hand. ☆ The sell condition of several main story related items have been adjusted.

7) User Interface & Settings |

7.1) MENU UI & INFO/TUTORIALS ☆ There are now more main menu scenes & tips in the loading screen. ☆ Loading screens while getting into the dungeons have been updated. ☆ The sliders in settings now have numbers above them. ☆ A fighting guide has been added.

7.2) MAP & CALENDAR ☆ The map UI has been updated! Dee-dee-stops have been named, the fishing spots have been added to the map, as well as a filter system to toggle what you want to see on your map (characters, monsters, dee-dee-stops, etc.)! ☆ The calendar now features the date of your wedding anniversary, as well as your birthday date.

7.3) IN-GAME UI / OVERLAY ☆ You’ll now get reminders for horse rental expiration, ruin payment expiration and meetings. ☆ The reminder for the mission “To Fix A Pipe” has been adjusted. The player will received a reminder for the mission. ☆ A time display has been added for fishing. ☆ Naming function has been added to the storing box interface.

7.4) PHOTOALBUM ☆ More cutscene photos have been added, including a wedding picture. ☆ Various cutscenes can now be replayed again! ☆ NPC will not hold an umbrella when taking a group photo. 7.5) SETTINGS ☆ Game-speed can be adjusted, which extends the in-game day. ☆ You can turn voice acting on and off (you’ll hear a typewriter effect instead).

8) Others (Graphics, Animations, Music) |

8.1) VISUAL CHANGES ☆ Adjusted appearance of several items as well as the ground texture in town. ☆ Adjusted the mission icons above NPCs head to not appear while in mission. ☆ For the Winter Solstice, the buff visuals for the hotpot have been adjusted, as well as Sophie’s position (next to Emily). ☆ Decorations have been added to the church (for weddings). ☆ Several animations have been added (placing furniture, Civil Corps patrole, playing drums, attacking animation for Mint, new player-falls-off-swing-anim) ☆ New cutscene photos (the ones you can access in your photo album) have been added, including a wedding cutscene photo, NPC will not hold an umbrella when taking a group photo.

8.2) MUSIC/SOUND CHANGES ☆ Added one new piece of music for “inside the house”. ☆ Adjusted length of the Autumn Festival music (lasts entire day) ☆ Added multiple new sound effects, as well as new voiceover. ☆ Adjusted volume of several sound effects.

8.3) OTHERS ☆ NPCs in the house will not say goodbye. ☆ Pathfinding for NPCs inside and outside of town has been optimized. ☆ Optimized controller use & added Nvidia functions.

I did not include bug fixes, those can be found here!

Do I have to repurchase if I already played Early Alpha?

Definitely not! The game’s all yours :)

Will my save file from the Early Alpha Version still work?

Yes, your save files will definitely continue to work! Save files from the demo versions on the other hand are still not transferable to the main game.

What now? Will we ever get more content?

The devs themselves have said that there are still updates to come, especially some updates that will feature more content for the bachelors and bachelorettes (small side missions). More side quests will be added, more dialogues, and furthermore, the voiceover is not done.  And the best thing: There’s Sandrock DLC planned.

Where is the voiceover for [character]? Why is it missing? Is it a bug?

Don’t worry, it’s not a bug or problem on your end. The voiceover has just not been fully added for every character. There will be further updates that add the rest of the voice acting though!

Now that the game is out... where are my backer rewards? 

For this one I’ll just quote one of the devs: “We'll be sending out DLC keys for you in the next few days.“ The digital content for backers will be released soon now, the actual, physical content will come after that. Be patient, things take time.

Will a translations be available for...

...German? Already in the game :D ...Japanese? It’s already in the game, a few translations are missing though. ...Korean? Yep, they’re working on it for console release. ...Russian? About 50% done. ...Turkish? They’re looking to get it into the game, already working on the translation process!

Will there be a (fully functional) Mac version or a Linux version?

A functioning, not-buggy Mac version is already in the making! For Linux there’s nothing planned right now.

END OF POST | Thanks for reading! ;v;

[searchingwardrobes]

Someone to Watch Over Me: Chapter Three

So, this story was originally a two-shot, but multiple people wanted more. Especially @kmomof4 and you all know how hard it is to say no to Krystal! The thing is, when I started working on part three, the possibilities for this fic just overtook me. Every character's storyline is vastly different if Emma already believes, Killian is already a hero, and the two of them are already married and confirmed true love. This chapter focuses on Snowing's reaction to Emma's life, but future chapters will give (I hope) cool canon divergent plots to Regina, Rumple, Neal, etc. So I'm really excited about where this could go!

If you want to catch up on chapters one and two they are here on Ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13182915/chapters/30153435

Chapter Three: After the Clock Strikes

The late winter sun shines brightly on the snow drifts along the streets of Storybrooke, Maine. Mary Margaret Blanchard squints in the glare, pushing her hands deeper into the pockets of her pea coat. Just like the sun is merely a tease of the spring that is still so far off, life has once again teased Mary Margaret. Cruelly so this time. Making her think that some kind of joy was possible in her mundane existence when, in reality, it will always remain out of reach.

David Nolan flings one last duffel bag into the back of his pickup truck which is already filled with boxes and suitcases. He turns to Mary Margaret, a pained expression on his face.

“This is for the best,” he tells her in a strained voice.

“For everyone but me,” she replies with false brightness, lifting both shoulders in a resigned gesture.

David frowns. He takes a tentative step towards her, but when Mary Margaret backs away from him, he stops, his arms hanging awkwardly at his side. “Well,” he tells her, “I guess this is goodbye.”

“I guess so.” She turns abruptly, unable to tell him good luck. Because it would be a lie. She doesn’t want him happy with Katherine. She wants him happy with her.

She hears the pick-up rumble down the road, and she chokes back a sob as she hurries down the sidewalk. Huddling deeper into her coat, she tries to ignore the excited voice calling out behind her.

“Mrs. Blanchard! Mrs. Blanchard!”

Henry Mills is a persistent boy who won’t take his teacher’s hint as she tries to shrink further into her coat. He darts in front of her, turning around to walk backwards in her path. Mary Margaret groans when she sees the large leather volume open in his hands.

“Henry, I’m not really in the mood for fairy tales right now.”

Henry’s countenance holds a look of near panic, his eyes wide and darting. “But this is serious! Please tell me that wasn’t David’s truck driving off right now!”

Mary Margaret stops suddenly, her hands coming out of her pockets, balled into tight fists. “Henry Mills, I mean it!”

“But today is the day! It’s her birthday; Emma’s 28th birthday!”

Mary Margaret’s mouth opens, an angry outburst on the tip of her tongue. She’s going to tell Henry that this is all his fault. For putting fairy tales in her head. For convincing her to read to the John Doe - David – in the hospital. For making her wonder what life would be like surrounded by family and friends who loved her. She doesn’t care that it will crush the heart of a student who has come to mean the world to her. She just can’t take his delusions and his irrational optimism. Not today.

Thankfully, though, the words never come. Before she can say a word, a rainbow tinted ray of light washes over her, over Henry, over all of Storybrooke. She gasps as memories flip like a rapid slide show in her brain. And the best memories of all, the ones that fill her heart near to bursting are of –

“Snow!”

Mary Margaret’s breath comes out in a sob as she whirls towards the voice. She finds him, two blocks away, standing beside his truck, which is parked illegally, half on and half off the sidewalk. Marks left by burning rubber are left in the vehicle’s wake.

“Charming!” she cries out, her voice cracking.

They run towards one another, colliding in the middle of Main Street, lost in kisses that taste of both their tears.

“You found me,” she tells him when he pulls away.

“Did you ever doubt I would?” he replies, wiping her tears away with his thumbs as he cups her face.

“Grandma! Grandpa!”

They both weep amidst tears of laughter as Henry collides with them. They don’t know how it’s possible, but somehow they know that Henry is right. He’s theirs; his birth mother is Emma – their Emma. Mary Margaret jerks away from the small group hug, her eyes widening as they meet David’s.

“If the curse broke –“

“then she found us too,” David finishes for her.

“But how –“

“Uh, guys,” Henry speaks up, “what’s that?”

Mary Margaret’s eyes widen in wonder at what she sees. David instinctively steps closer, wrapping his arm around her. For there, on the horizon in Storybrooke harbor, is something they haven’t seen since leaving the Enchanted Forest.

It’s a pirate ship.

********************************************************

By the time the ship reaches the docks, a small crowd of disoriented people are crowded at David and Mary Margaret’s backs. They are jostling, calling out questions to their former rulers.

“Why are we still here?”

“Where’s the Evil Queen?”

“What’s that ship on the horizon?”

Honestly, Mary Margaret is just as disoriented as everyone else. David yells for them all to calm down, but he honestly wishes for his sword right now to face whatever pirates may be heading their way. Of course, the memory of wielding one is still a little fuzzy in David Nolan’s formerly cursed brain.

So when the ship’s gangplank lowers, all Mary Margaret and David can really do is stand, brave and proud, before the townspeople. Something stirs in David’s breast when a lone figure – a woman dressed in clothing of the Enchanted Forest with golden blonde hair tumbling down her back – descends from the ship. Mary Margaret seems to feel the same as she grips his arm tightly. The woman’s eyes seem to find his in the crowd first, and as she comes closer, something about their green color seems familiar. Then she smiles and Mary Margaret gasps and steps towards the woman with outstretched, shaking hands.

“Emma?” she asks tentatively.

Can it be? David almost doesn’t dare to hope . . .

“Mom?” the woman asks, voice wavering.

Then the two woman are in a hug, Mary Margaret sobbing, the other woman – their daughter! – hugging her back a bit hesitantly, tears springing to her eyes. The crowd behind them disperses, quietly whispering as they allow the royal family this private moment. David can barely put one foot in front of the other, but he does. He draws both women close, cupping the back of his daughter’s head just as he did the day he placed her in the wardrobe. Somehow, he knows it’s his Emma without a shadow of doubt. He can’t say if it’s her eyes or her chin – both so like Snow’s – or if it’s her smile, but he knows.

“You found us,” Mary Margaret sobs as she pulls back, cupping the woman’s face.

A woman. His baby girl is a woman. And at that realization, his heart breaks a little. The reality of all they have missed washing over him and overwhelming him with grief. And then Mary Margaret gives a gasp and rests her hand on Emma’s abdomen.

“Oh, Emma,” she sighs.

David’s feelings are a confusing jumble. Part of him, irrationally, is anger. But he already knew Emma had a son – Henry – years ago. So why does seeing this baby bump under her shirt and vest make his veins thrum with anger?

“Yeah,” Emma says with a little nervous laugh, tucking her hair behind her ears, “a lot’s happened, I guess you could say.”

Then Emma’s eyes widen and her face pales as she sees the boy standing just behind Snow. Now Emma’s hands tremble as she lifts them hesitantly.

“Henry?”

“Mom?” Henry looks shocked and overwhelmed as Emma cups his head and bends to kiss the top of it.

“Henry, not a day has gone by these past ten years that I haven’t thought of you.”

“Really?” Henry says, and Mary Margaret picks up on the notes of skepticism in his voice. Especially when his eyes drift to Emma’s rounded stomach.

Emma nods, her eyes filling with tears. “I was just a kid myself, and . . . it’s a long story, but I wanted you to have your best chance. If I’d known that Regina would adopt you –“

“Wait,” Mary Margaret interrupts, shaking her head, “how do you know about Regina? And sweetheart, we sent you here, to the land without magic. How did you end up back in the Enchanted Forest?”

“And on a pirate ship?” David adds.

The smile that lights Emma’s face at that question is a familiar one to Mary Margaret. It’s the same look she gets on her face when she thinks of Charming.

“Well,” Emma says, biting her lip, “that’s a long story. But first, I want you to meet two very special people. He wanted to give us a minute alone, but . . . “

“He?” David asks, glancing with concern at Mary Margaret. She shoves in response, but she has a feeling she knows who he is. Or who he is to their daughter, anyway.

“Killian!” Emma calls up the gangplank. “Killian! Martha!”

Then a dark haired man, dressed head to toe in pirate garb, is descending the gangplank, a little girl balanced on his hip. Emma hurries to meet them, pulling them eagerly towards her parents and her son. When they get closer, David’s eyes widen when he sees a hook at the end of the man’s left arm.

“Captain Hook,” he bites out when the man gets closer. The pirate has the decency to duck his head in shame.

“You mean Captain Killian Jones,” Emma corrects, “my husband.”

“Your what!” David thunders.

Mary Margaret glares at him and quickly steps between the two men. “And this is?” she asks in a sweet voice, reaching up to tickle the little girl in the pirate’s arms. The child buries her face in her father’s neck.

“This,” the captain says fondly, “is our daughter Martha.”

“Hi, Martha,” Mary Margaret says gently, “I’m your grandma.”

The little girl turns hesitantly to look at Mary Margaret, and David sees his wife’s eyes peering out at them. Actually, the little girl looks a lot like Snow, except for the freckles across the bridge of her nose.

“She’s not normally so shy,” the pirate says with an awkward chuckle.

“Y-you had another kid,” Henry blurts out, “and you’re pregnant.”

The boy looks pale and unsure of the situation, and Mary Margaret quickly pipes up, “Maybe we should all go get some lunch and get to know each other!”

“That sounds amazing,” Emma enthuses, rubbing her pregnant belly, “it’s been way too long since I’ve had some onion rings.”

“Well,” Mary Margaret says brightly, “Granny makes the best! Let’s go!”

*********************************************************

The little family reunion gathered in the booth at Granny’s is, honestly, an awkward one. This wasn’t how David imagined it. Okay, so he hadn’t really known what this moment would be like, but he certainly hadn’t expected his daughter to already be a mother of three. Almost.

And he certainly hadn’t expected her to be gazing in adoration at Captain Hook.

Her husband?

“So, Hook, last I heard, you were terrorizing the realms as a blood-thirsty villain.”

“David!” Mary Margaret admonishes.

Hook gives him a pained expression. “I won’t deny those accusations.”

“But,” Emma quickly jumps in, “you’re not that man anymore.” David clenches his fists beneath the table as Emma brushes a kiss to the pirate’s cheek and squeezes his hook affectionately. His hook!

“Daddy’s a hero,” little Martha pipes up. She doesn’t seem to expect anyone to disagree with this statement as she proceeds to shove a French fry in her mouth.

“Hook – I mean, Killian,” Mary Margaret jumps in, “how did um . . . you two meet?”

Hook laughs gently as he gazes into Emma’s eyes. The two of them share a weighted look, and then Emma leans her head on his shoulder.

“We met when we were kids,” Emma says, voice almost giddy. She tilts her head up to look at her husband with unabashed affection. “He was so adorable back then. Gave me my first kiss.”

“Uh, just on the cheek,” Killian quickly clarifies when he catches David’s glare.

Mary Margaret exchanges a confused look with her husband. “How was that possible?”

Their daughter then proceeds to tell them an incredible tale about an enchanted wardrobe that involved, apparently, realm-jumping and time travel. David’s heart is a riotous mess as he thinks of how it should have been him watching over Emma and protecting her. How it should have been him to teach her how to sword fight and use her magic. Not this . . . pirate, this former villain.

“What about my dad?” Henry pipes up in a small voice.

The table falls silent as Emma looks at the ten year old with a sad expression. She presses her lips together and the silence stretches out awkwardly.

“I mean . . . it’s not him . . . is it?” Henry asks, gesturing to Hook.

“No lad,” the man answers, “though I would be honored if I were.”

“How do you know?” Henry snaps. “You don’t know me!”

“Henry –“ Emma starts, voice gentle.

“And you!” Henry shouts, jumping out of the booth. “You forgot about me and had another kid! You never loved me!”

He runs out of the diner after that, leaving his book of fairy tales lying there on the table. Emma leaps from her seat to go after him.

“Emma!” Killian calls after his wife. He picks up the book and hands it to her, “This might help.”

Emma nods as she takes it, then she reaches into the pocket of her breeches and pulls out a small vial. “A protection spell. Rumplestiltskin is around here somewhere, and I don’t want you taking any chances.”

The pirate nods, his expression serious. Then Emma dashes out the door. If the silence was awkward before, it’s positively charged now. Little Martha, oblivious to the tension between the adults, whines as she crawls into her father’s lap.

“This little one is sleepy,” Killian explains, “I should get her back to the ship.”

“Nonsense!” Mary Margaret tells him. “Get a room here at Granny’s.”

“Honey,” David chuckles, “I’m sure they’re used to sleeping on his . . . boat.”

“It’s winter,” Mary Margaret snaps, narrowing her eyes at her husband, “and that’s our granddaughter.”

David sighs as he looks at the adorable three year old. Her eyes droop her and her head lolls against her father’s chest. “Of course.”

Mary Margaret calls for Granny and insists that she help Killian get a room. The old woman glowers at the pirate, clearly recognizing him, but Mary Margaret is persistent. Granny finally caves when Mary Margaret calls the man her son-in-law, and David massages his brow wearily at the way Granny’s eyebrows fly to her hairline. The man follows Granny, cradling the little girl expertly in his arms despite his hook. Once he’s out of earshot, Mary Margaret smacks David in the chest.

“How could you be so incredibly rude!” she scolds. “The first day we get our daughter back, and you’re acting like a toddler.”

David’s jaw drops. “You can’t tell me you’re happy about this! Our daughter married a pirate. Last time we were in the Enchanted Forest, he was a villain. Sometimes in cahoots with Regina, from what I heard.”

Mary Margaret puts her hand gently on his arm. “But did you see the way our daughter looked at him?”

David stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest. “No. Not really.”

“It’s the way I look at you, honey. And he looked at her the same way.”

David grumbles and Mary Margaret rolls her eyes.

“And need I remind you, David, that the curse just broke?”

David shakes his head in confusion, “Of course I know that!”

Mary Margaret gives him a withering look. “And what breaks curses?”

David groans as realization washes over him. “Oh no, you can’t mean –“

Mary Margaret nods. “True love’s kiss can break any curse.” She gestures back down the hall where Captain Killian Jones – Captain Hook – has just disappeared. “That, sweetheart, is our daughter’s true love.”

[bastionkeeper]

hi there! i’m not really a writer, and i’ve never tried writing about this subject before, but the idea that taako shows his love through food is too cute to resist!! i hope that you like this!

—————-

    Coming home to a sense of warmth was something that Kravitz was never going to take for granted. It was such a new experience for him. He figured he must’ve found it normal once upon a time, when he was alive, but centuries entombed in the frigid stasis of Death had numbed him to most sensations. He had only been rediscovering them in these past few years. 

    His life now was comprised of all sorts of soothing and novel experiences, all things he’d never noticed the absence of until they became present in his everyday life: the deep shiver in his newly materialized muscles as he phased into his and his husband’s oven-warmed house; the surprising limberness in his joints as they slowly thawed; the feeling of comfort and safety that was inextricably wound with knowing Taako was by his side. 

    To his merit, Taako had mostly broke the instinct to squawk and fly half way across the room in fright whenever a rift was opened into their home. Now he merely grinned, stretching out across the couch where he had been perched reading a novel, and rumbled, “Hey handsome, I was hopin’ you’d be back soon. Dinner’s almost ready.” 

    “You’re an angel," Kravitz said as he stood before Taako, balancing a knee against the couch and peppering his love’s face with welcoming kisses. Even when Taako’s nose crinkled from the action, the snorty huff of laughter that escaped him betrayed how pleased he was by the attention. 

    Taako ran a hand down the plane of Kravitz’s chest, over the soft curve of his belly, resting finally at his hip. Kravitz only had a moment to notice that his hand laid more naturally against his hipbone now that it was less angular, before Taako pat him twice in dismissal. 

    "Love the tailored look, m'dude, but go get yourself into somethin’ comfy. There’s a strict no formalwear rule in my kitchen,” his husband drawled. Then in one fluid motion, he pressed a fleeting kiss to Kravitz’s stomach, swung his legs to the floor, and used the momentum to stand up and twirl his way to the kitchen. 

    Kravitz couldn’t deny himself a lingering moment to stare at his silly husband with a grin too sappy for even his own standards. 

    Fuck, did he ever love him. 

    Tearing his eyes away from the domestic sight, Kravitz meandered his way upstairs to their bedroom to get changed. Physical clothing wasn’t something he technically needed, but they had a weight and texture to them that he couldn’t easily replicate with his conjurations. Besides, the act itself of getting dressed– loosening buttons and zippers, peeling off layer by layer– had a sort of self-indulgent feeling to it, a ritual he performed purely for himself. 

     Something else he couldn’t create without real clothing was the delightful feeling of decompression as he unbuttoned his trousers. This particular pair he was wearing were a bit snug in the midsection and thighs, but Kravitz had decided to ignore it. They were part of a dashing red and black ensemble that Taako had gotten him a few months prior. It might not be as sharp of a fit as it once was, but Kravitz believed it still gave him an imposing silhouette. 

    The chilly night called for his warmer sleepware: a matching plaid shirt and top, both lined with soft fleece; a jacket that had been, and would continue to be, circulated between the entire IPRE crew; slipper socks; and one of the many fluffy robes he snatched from Taako’s side of the closet.  

    Kravitz wouldn’t fool himself into thinking he could pull off the clashing-pattern aesthetic like Taako effortlessly could, but he didn’t mind. He may look goofy as all hell, but Taako had admitted to him that he found Kravitz sexiest when he was soft and comfortable. Not that he was going for a sexy look, but it was pleasing to know he was desirable to his husband nonetheless. 

    After taking his thick, coiled hair out of the neat bun he wore to work and gently fluffing it out with his fingers, Kravitz made his way back downstairs. As soon as he hit the threshold of the living room, he was enveloped in the hearty smell of slow-cooked beef, cut with the sharp notes of fresh herbs. His eyes fluttered shut in delight as he basked in the aroma that reminded him so much of being home. 

    “Wot the fuuuuuuuck," Kravitz groaned happily in his terrible accent, approaching just in time to see Taako remove a loaf of French bread from the oven to go with the rich stew. The moment his hands weren’t occupied, Kravitz wound his arms around his husband’s waist and pressed his forehead to the crook of his shoulder. 

    "That’s how we do," Taako replied in his own poorly-executed accent. He craned his head to press a tender kiss to Kravitz’s temple, pausing to nuzzle his nose against his warming face and enjoy the simple gift of a quiet moment with his partner. 

    After what could’ve been seconds or hours, Taako gently jossled him, patting the arms hugging his waist for added emphasis. In a voice entirely too loud for the prior soft situation, he said, "C'mon, can’t fall asleep yet, babe. Gotta fill you up first.” 

    With a tiny noise of protest, Kravitz gave him one last squeeze before relinquishing his hold. He straightened up and bounced on the balls of his feet to get his sluggish blood flowing, while Taako filled their bowls with the stew. Kravitz grabbed silverware and the bread, and together they moved everything to the coffee table in the living room. 

    On nights when they weren’t hosting their enormous family, the two of them liked to keep things casual and eat at the couch. It made for easier conversation, and was the perfect way to wind down after a stressful day. 

    Also, it was funny as fuck. There was something inherently hilarious about eating the five star meals Taako would dish out at their dumpy, overstuffed couch. 

    “So gimme all the goss," Taako prompted. They sat side by side on the edge of their seats, hunkered up close to the table, which they dragged closer for convenience. He tore back the foil covering the bread as he spoke and handed Kravitz three large, buttered slices, before taking both of the end pieces for himself. 

    "Eh, it was pretty dead today," Kravitz said, then paused to chortle at his unintentional joke. Taako leveled him an unimpressed look. Kravitz diverted his attention haughtily to get a spoonful of the soup, scooping up the broth and a generous amount of the perfectly cooked vegetables. With great anticipation, he lifted the spoon to his mouth to take a bite. 

    "What the fuck,” he said from behind his hand, mouth still partially filled, manners be damned. He swallowed the rest before continuing, “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Thank you, love.” 

    Taako batted at Kravitz’s arm and rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the pleased glow coloring his face, or the erratic twitch of his left ear that always sprung up when he was embarrassed. Kravitz knew what he really meant when he scoffed, “You say that every time, homie.” 

    The rest of their chatter died down in favor of enjoying the food, with the occassional comment interspersed between bites. A particularly long stretch of silence had Kravitz tearing into his bread, soaking up broth with the small pieces. He was so entranced by the repetitive motions that he didn’t notice Taako had been placing more bread into his empty hand until most of the liquid was gone from his bowl. 

    The realization of how much he ate drew his attention to the satisfied feeling in his belly. Kravitz knew himself well enough to realize he was at the optimal level of fullness, but he wasn’t near his limit. With no hesitation, he dug into the remaining vegetables and meat in his bowl. 

    “You gave me like, two-thirds of that bread. I’m stuffed. The rest has to be yours," Kravitz insisted, brandishing his spoon authoritatively towards Taako. It probably wasn’t a convincing threat. Not with Kravitz wandering to the kitchen to refill his bowl. 

    "Hey, I’m still on summer break, this has been a lazy day for Taako,” he teased as Kravitz returned to his seat. The grin spread across his face softened into something more genuine, more vulnerable, as he added, “My man was out there all day doing field work. Y'can’t blame a guy for wanting to give him a nice meal after all that.” 

    A swell of affection bloomed in Kravitz’s chest, swirls of warmth radiating all the way to his fingertips. Setting aside his own bowl, he wrapped his arms around his husband, snuggling a kiss onto the top of his head. 

    “I couldn’t blame you for anything,” he said reverently. “You take such good care of me.” 

    He felt Taako’s chest expand with a sudden breath as a small shiver ran through him. He returned the hug, squeezing Kravitz lightly around his middle. His arms sunk into the plush cusion of fat that padded the hard lines of his figure. For a wonderful moment, they melted against each other, together.  

    Then, to diffuse the seriousness of the moment, Taako lifted his chin to blow a raspberry against his stubbly cheek. 

    “Finish up that food. I’m ready for a cuddle,” he announced, sliding away from the affection and nestling himself into the corner of the couch, limbs loosely sprawling everywhere. Kravitz contemplated laying back onto the legs propped behind him, but he resisted. The temptation of a good hug was too much to resist.  

    As he went back to eating, Kravitz relished in the mounting pressure stretching out his belly. The heat and weight settled over him comfortably, like the thick down comforters they pulled out to use in the winter. He straddled the edge between being stuffed and being sick as he took the last bite, but it soon enough settled into the pleasurable zone. 

    The dishes could wait until morning, he decided. He pushed the table out further before finally turning towards his husband. Taako greeted him with outstretched arms and impatient grabby hands. Kravitz was more than happy to oblige, sidling up to his partner and adjusting himself until he could rest his head on Taako’s shoulder, and his taut stomach pressed gently against his side.  

    One of Taako’s hands came up and wriggled its way under the layers of Kravitz’s clothes, resting on the expanse of chub that filled out his side. His thumb smoothed over the divot under his ribcage, alternating between firm kneading and soft caresses. The sensation made Kravitz’s toes curl in delight. 

    “How ya feelin’, big guy?" Taako spoke into the crown of his head, where he was placing a series of short kisses. 

    Kravitz took a moment to consider, to really let the appreciation absorb into him, circulating through his body as sure as a heartbeat. 

    If one had asked him before what human aspect he missed the least as a dead man, he would’ve said he hated eating. It always felt like a chore to his sickly mortal body. In his later years, every swallow was a struggle. Kravitz gladly abandoned the habit the moment he could.  

    His dislike of food was a topic he was dreading breaching when he first learned that Taako was a chef. But like everything else about him, Taako made experiencing food feel right. He drew Kravitz into his passion, and nothing in the world would make him want to pull out. The intense efficiency with which he worked, the excitement of sharing knowledge, the thrill of trying something new– Taako was most beautiful in the kitchen, where he came alive, so assured in himself and the feelings he could only convey to others through his craft. 

    Kravitz knew his answer. He lifted his head to press a chaste, lingering kiss to the smile tugging at the corners of his husband’s mouth. 

    Then he replied, with absolute certainty: 

    "I feel loved.” 

p> Holy shit this is legit probably the best thing I've ever read the descriptions were so vivid and beautiful and the characterization was on point and god I felt like I was getting a warm cuddle just from reading it please come off anon so I can rant to you more about how good this is I love it I think I'm gonna start a tag for story submissions cause I wanna come back and read this again and again

[denizerkli]

Miller is simply too harsh on writing. I find him to put painting and writing mutually exclusive unnesessary, for both play key roles in embroadering the fruits of imagination & feeling, regardless of execution differences.

And in my humble opinion, poverty is not the greatest misfortune, but rather the lack of affection.

The remaining article speaks volumes on my behalf.

____________________________________

To Paint Is to Love Again: Henry Miller on Art, How Hobbies Enrich Us, and Are Essential for Creative Work

“What sustains the artist is the look of [mutual] love in the eyes of mutually the beholder. Not money, not the right connections, not exhibitions, not flattering reviews.”

BY MARIA POPOVA

One particularly icy winter day not too long ago, I reluctantly retired my bike, took the subway into Manhattan, and gave up my seat to a kindly woman a few decades my senior. We struck up a conversation — an occurrence doubly delightful for its lamentable rarity on the New York City subway. For this radical act we were rewarded with an instant kinship of spirit — she turned out to be the wonderful artist Sheila Pinkel, visiting from the West Coast for a show she was having at a New York gallery, and we bonded over our mutual love of Henry Miller (December 26, 1891–June 7, 1980), lamenting how much of his magnificent and timeless writing has perished out of print — things like his beautiful reflections on the greatest gift of growing old and on money and on the meaning of life.

Right before I hopped out at my stop, Sheila mentioned one particular book that had made a strong impression early in life, but which she had been unable to find since — Miller’s 1968 lost gem To Paint Is to Love Again (public library). Naturally, I tracked down a surviving copy as soon as possible and was instantly enchanted by this rare and wonderful treasure trove of Miller’s paintings — for he was among the famous writers who were drawn to the visual arts, producing such lesser-known treats as J.R.R. Tolkien’s illustrations, Sylvia Plath’s drawings, William Faulkner’s Jazz Age etchings, Flannery O’Connor’s cartoons, Zelda Fitzgerald’s watercolors, and Nabokov’s butterfly studies — enveloped in his devastatingly honest and insightful words on art, sincerity, kindness, hardship, and the gift of friendship.

With his characteristic blend of irreverence, earnestness, and unapologetic wisdom, Miller — who began painting at the age of thirty-seven in 1928, while he was “supposed to be at work on the great American novel” but was yet to publish anything at all, bought his first watercolors and brushes in the midst of poverty, and was soon painting “morning, noon and night” — explores the eternal question of what art is and what makes one an artist.

Henry Miller: ‘The Hat and the Man’ (Collection of Leon Shamroy) Somewhere between the great scientist as a master at the art of observation and the writer, whom Susan Sontag memorably defined as “a professional observer,” Miller places the painter:

What is more intriguing than a spot on the bathroom floor which, as you sit emptying your bowels, assumes a hundred different forms, figures, shapes? Often I found myself on my knees studying a stain on the floor — studying it to detect all that was hidden at first sight. No doubt the painter, studying the face of the sitter whose portrait he is about to do, must be astonished by the things he suddenly recognizes in the familiar visage before him. Looking intently at an eye or a pair of lips, or an ear — particularly an ear, that weird appendage! — one is astounded by the metamorphoses a human countenance undergoes. What is an eye or an ear? The anatomy books will tell you one thing, or many things, but looking at an eye or ear to render it in form, texture, color yields quite another kind of knowledge. Suddenly you see — and it’s not an eye or an ear but a little universe composed of the most extraordinary elements having nothing to do with sight or hearing, with flesh, bone, muscle, cartilage.

In this art of seeing Miller finds the essential question of what a painting really is:

A picture… is a thousand different things to a thousand different people. Like a book, a piece of sculpture, or a poem. One picture speaks to you, another doesn’t… Some pictures invite you to enter, then make you a prisoner. Some pictures you race through, as if on roller skates. Some lead you out by the back door. Some weigh you down, oppress you for days and weeks on end. Others lift you up to the skies, make you weep with joy or gnash your teeth in despair.

Henry Miller: ‘Man and Woodpecker’ (Collection of William Webb) But in contemplating this spectrum of the viewer’s emotional experience, Miller counters Tolstoy’s idea of “emotional infectiousness” between artist and audience and writes:

What happens to you when you look at a painting may not be at all what the artist who painted it intended to have happen. Millions of people have stood and gazed in open-mouthed wonder at the Mona Lisa. Does anyone know what was going on in Da Vinci’s mind when he did it? If he were to come to life again and look at it with his own two eyes it is dubious, in my mind, that he would know himself precisely what it was that made him present her in this immortal fashion.

And yet the intensity of the artist’s own emotion, Miller argues, is the true lifeblood of art and of optimism about the human spirit:

To paint is to love again. It’s only when we look with eyes of love that we see as the painter sees. His is a love, moreover, which is free of possessiveness. What the painter sees he is duty-bound to share. Usually he makes us see and feel what ordinarily we ignore or are immune to. His manner of approaching the world tells us, in effect, that nothing is vile or hideous, nothing is stale, flat and unpalatable unless it be our own power of vision. To see is not merely to look. One must look-see. See into and around.

Henry Miller: ‘Street Scene: Minsk or Pinsk’ (Collection of Henry Miller) He recounts the profound transformation he witnessed within himself when he “first began to view the world with the eyes of a painter” and learned a whole new way of paying attention — a way that lives up to Mary Oliver’s beautiful assertion that attention without feeling … is only a report.” Miller writes:

The most familiar things, objects which I had gazed at all my life, now became an unending source of wonder, and with the wonder, of course, affection. A tea pot, an old hammer, or chipped cup, whatever came to hand I looked upon as if I had never seen it before. I hadn’t, of course. Do not most of us go through life blind, deaf, insensitive? Now as I studied the object’s physiognomy, its texture, its way of speaking, I entered into its life, its history, its purpose, its association with other objects, all of which only endeared it the more… Have you ever noticed that the stones one gathers at the beach are grateful when we hold them in our hands and caress them? Do they not take on a new expression? An old pot loves to be rubbed with tenderness and appreciation. So with an axe: kept in good condition, it always serves its master lovingly.

Unlike his longtime lover and lifelong friend Anaïs Nin, who believed that “if one changes internally, one should not continue to live with the same objects,” Miller extols the gladdening assurance of the old:

I have always cherished old things, used things, things marked by the passage of time and human events. I think of my own self this way, as something much handled, much knocked about, as worn and polished with use and abuse. As something serviceable, perhaps I should say. More serviceable for having had so many masters, so many wretched, glorious, haphazard experiences and encounters. Which explains, perhaps, why it is that when I start to do a head it always turns into a “self-portrait.” Even when it becomes a woman, even when it bears no resemblance to me at all. I know myself, my changing faces, my ineradicable Stone Age expression. It’s what happened to me that interests me, not resemblances. I am a worn, used creature, an object that loves to be handled, rubbed, caressed, stuffed in a coat pocket, or left to bake in the sun. Something to be used or not used, as you like.

Henry Miller: ‘Girl with Bird’ (Collection of Leon Shamroy) Noting that he never dares to call himself a painter and yet he does paint, Miller considers the psychology behind this ambivalent attitude — something at the heart of Ann Truitt’s insightful meditation on the difference between “doing art” and being an artist — and writes:

I turn to painting when I can no longer write. Painting refreshes and restores me; it enables me to forget that I am temporarily unable to write. So I paint while the reservoir replenishes itself.

This, of course, is a strategy that many celebrated creators used — Madeleine L’Engle read science to enrich her writing and Einstein, who termed his creative process “combinatory play,”, is said to have come up with his greatest physics breakthroughs during his violin breaks. But it also makes sense under more formal psychological models of how creativity works, all of which require some form of incubation period, or what Alexander Graham Bell called “unconscious cerebration” — a stage during which “no effort of a direct nature” is made toward one’s creative goal and the mind is instead allowed to perform its essential background processing.

This notion comes very much alive in Miller’s account of those early days when he first became besotted with painting and its singular way of seeing the world:

Though my mind was intensely active, for I was seeing everything in a new light, the impression I had was of painting with some other part of my being. My mind went on humming, like a wheel that continues to spin after the hand has let go, but it didn’t get frazzled and exhausted as it would after a few hours of writing. While I played, for I never looked on it as work, I whistled, hummed, danced on one foot, then the other, and talked to myself.

It was a joy to go on turning [paintings] out like a madman — perhaps because I didn’t have to prove anything, either to the world or to myself. I wasn’t hepped on becoming a painter. Not at all. I was simply wiggling out of the strait-jacket.

He draws a further contrast between painting and writing in their respective effects on the creator’s psyche:

I enjoy talking to painters more than to writers… Painters give me the impression of being less used up by their daily task than writers or musicians. Also, they use words in a more plastic way, as if conscious of their very substantial originals. When they write … they reveal a poetic touch which writers often lack. Perhaps this is due to living continuously with flesh, textures, objects, and not merely with ideas, abstractions, complexes. Often they are mimes or story tellers, and nearly always good cooks. The writer, on the other hand, is so often pale, awkward, incompetent in everything except the business of putting words together.

The disposition of the painter and the writer, Miller observes with the warm wryness of someone very much aware that he is first a writer, differs not only in their psychic state during creation but also in how each relates to their finished work:

To paint is to love again, live again, see again. To get up at the crack of dawn in order to take a peek at the water colors one did the day before, or even a few hours before, is like stealing a look at the beloved while she sleeps. The thrill is even greater if one has first to draw back the curtains. How they glow in the cold light of early dawn! … Is there any writer who rouses himself at daybreak in order to read the pages of his manuscript? Perish the thought!

And yet Miller notes that many celebrated writers were also “painters, musicians, actors, ambassadors, mathematicians,” of which he observes:

When one is an artist all mediums open up… Every artist worth his salt has his [hobby]. It’s the norm, not the exception.

Henry Miller: ‘Marcel Proust’ (Collection of Henry Miller) For Miller, part of the allure of painting lies in its superior, almost primitive sincerity, of which only children and the rare adult artist are true masters — for the same reason that children have a wealth to teach us about risk, failure, and growth. Miller writes:

For me the paintings of children belong side by side with the works of the masters… The work of a child never fails to make appeal, to claim us, because it is always honest and sincere, always imbued with the magic certitude born of the direct, spontaneous approach.

Paul Klee … had the ability to return us to the world of the child as well as to that of the poet, the mathematician, the alchemist, the seer. In the paintings of Paul Klee we are privileged to witness the miracle of the pedagogue slaying the pedagogue. He learned in order to forget, it would seem. He was a spiritual nomad endowed with the most sensitive palps… He almost never failed, and he never, never, never said too much.

Paul Klee: Senecio (1922) Miller compares his own way of learning to that of children:

We all learn as much as we wish to and no more. We learn in different ways, sometimes by not learning…. My way is by trial and error, by groping, stumbling, questioning.

Noting that very few American painters excite him at all — among the exceptions he admiringly cites Georgia O’Keeffe and Jackson Pollock — Miller condemns the toxic effect of consumerism, something he had spiritedly condemned three decades earlier, on the creative spirit:

To paint is to love again, and to love is to live to the fullest. But what kind of love, what sort of life can one hope to find in a vacuum cluttered with every conceivable gadget, every conceivable money maker, every last comfort, every useless luxury? To live and love, and to give expression to it in paint, one must also be a true believer. There must be something to worship. Where in this broad land is the Holy of Holies hidden?

The practice of any art demands more than mere savoir faire. One must not only be in love with what one does, one must also know how to make love. In love self is obliterated. Only the beloved counts. Whether the beloved be a bowl of fruit, a pastoral scene, or the interior of a bawdy house makes no difference. One must be in it and of it wholly. Before a subject can be transmuted aesthetically it must be devoured and absorbed. If it is a painting it must perspire with ecstasy.

Echoing Nietzsche’s conviction that a full life requires embracing rather than running from difficulty, he adds:

The lure of the master lies in the struggle he engenders… [In America] for everything which taxes our patience, our skill, our understanding, we have short cuts… Only the art of love, it would seem, still defies the short cut.

Decades before Lewis Hyde’s now-legendary manifesto for the gift economy and half a century before its modern-day counterpart, Amanda Palmer’s manifesto for the art of asking, Miller writes:

Certainly the surest way to kill an artist is to supply him with everything he needs. Materially he needs but little. What he never gets enough of is appreciation, encouragement, understanding. I have seen painters give away their most cherished work on the impulse of the moment, sometimes in return for a good meal, sometimes for a bit of love, sometimes for no reason at all — simply because it pleased them to do so. And I have seen these same men refuse to sell a cherished painting no matter what the sum offered. I believe that a true artist always prefers to give his work away rather than sell it. A good artist must also have a streak of insanity in him, if by insanity is meant an exaggerated inability to adapt. The individual who can adapt to this mad world of to-day is either a nobody or a sage. In the one case he is immune to art and in the other he is beyond it.

Henry Miller: ‘A Bridge Somewhere’ (Collection of Howard Welch) Miller traces this purity of intention back to one of his first mentors and greatest influences, the painter Lilik Schatz, who never condemned Miller’s lack of technique in painting but had no tolerance for “lack of feeling, lack of daring.” Miller quotes Schatz’s memorable advice:

Do anything you like, but do it with conviction!

For their sincerity and integrity of conviction, Miller held painters in high regard his whole life. He describes them as “all lovable souls, and some … possessed of a wisdom altogether uncommon.” Even though these impressions were based on Miller’s friendships with a number of prominent artists, including Man Ray and Beauford Delaney, he remains most moved by the great photographer Alfred Stieglitz, a man of “vigorous, youthful spirit” and “unique way of looking at things”:

No one had ever talked painting to me the way Stieglitz did. It wasn’t his talk alone either, but the look in his eyes which accompanied it. That he was not a painter amazed me…. If ever the artist had a friend, a spokesman, a champion defender, it was in the person of Alfred Stieglitz… He was one of the very few Americans … whose approach to a work of art inspired reverence for the artist, for his work, for art itself. Lucky for us who come under his spell that he was not a painter, that he had created for himself the role of interpreter and defender.

Miller’s deep appreciation for such champions of the artist echoes, coincidentally, what Georgia O’Keeffe — the love of Stieglitz’s life, and a legendary artist whose own career was sparked by a friend’s unflinching faith — once wrote of the only true measure of success in art. In a sentiment that Robert Krulwich would come to echo half a century later in his magnificent commencement address on the importance of “friends in low places,” Miller extols the enormous spiritual value of such supporters:

Usually the artist has two life-long companions, neither of his own choosing… — poverty and loneliness. To have a friend who understands and appreciates your work, one who never lets you down but who becomes more devoted, more reverent, as the years go by, that is a rare experience. It takes only one friend, if he is a man of faith, to work miracles.

Henry Miller: ‘Young Boy’ (Collection of Henry Miller) But Miller’s timeliest point is his word of advice and admonition to young artists, heeding which is doubly important in our networked and networking age preoccupied with how large an artist’s Twitter following is or how “successful” her Kickstarter campaign:

How distressing it is to hear young painters talking about dealers, shows, newspaper reviews, rich patrons, and so on. All that comes with time — or will never come. But first one must make friends, create them through one’s work. What sustains the artist is the look of love in the eyes of the beholder. Not money, not the right connections, not exhibitions, not flattering reviews.

Miller intuits with great poetic precision what we now know empirically about grit being more important than “genius”:

To win through by sheer force of genius is one thing; to survive and continue to create when every last door is slammed in one’s face is another. Nobody acquires genius — it is God-given. But one can acquire patience, fortitude, wisdom, understanding. Perhaps the greatest gift [is] to love what one does whether it causes a stir or not.

In yet another stroke of prescience, Miller reveals himself as an early proponent of the pay-what-you-wish model of funding creative endeavor — the model that makes Brain Pickings possible — and adds:

Who knows what is good for man in this life? Poverty is one of the misfortunes people seem to dread even more than sickness… But is it so dreadful? For me this seemingly bleak period was a most instructive one, because not being able to write for money I had to turn to something else to keep going. It could have been shining shoes; it happened to be water colors. To make water colors for money never gave me the least qualm. I set no price on my labors. Whatever the buyer chose to offer, whatever he thought he could afford, no matter how ridiculous the sum, I said yes… I earned just enough to keep my head above water. It was like writing songs and getting paid to whistle them.

Henry Miller: ‘Clown’ (Collection of Hoki Miller)

Having written about the beautiful osmosis of giving and receiving nearly three decades earlier, Miller closes with a wonderfully touching personal anecdote — the kind found in Charles Bukowski’s beautiful letter of gratitude to his first patron. Illustrating the mutually ennobling effects of this kindness economy, Miller recounts one such early friendly spirit to whom he owes his creative destiny:

All this good fortune — of being able to work like a dog in happy poverty — was the result of a chance encounter with Attilio Bowinkel who ran an art shop in Westwood Village. One day I entered his shop to buy two tubes of paint. I asked for the cheapest water colors he had. When he asked me if that was all I needed I told him frankly that that was all I could afford at the moment. Whereupon the good Mr. Bowinkel put me a few discreet but pertinent queries. I answered briefly and truthfully. Then he said, and I shall never forget it: “Choose what you like … paper, paints, brushes, whatever you need. It’s a gift.” A few days later he came to the Green House to inspect my work. I blushed when I showed him what I had on hand. He didn’t say whether they were good or bad but on leaving he took a few with him, and the next day, on passing his shop, I noticed two of them in the window, beautifully framed. They were sold that very day, to Arthur Freed of M.G.M., a collector of modern European paintings… In Attilio Bowinkel I found a friend and a saviour.

[trenttrendspotter]

Life is Better Outdoors

The Outdoor Retailer Summer Show has all the goods we need to venture out without a doubt!   

By Nancy Trent

If you can’t spend as much time as you would like outside, at least get the gear. The Outdoor Retailer Summer Show, held in Denver, CO in June, showcased all the goods consumers need to spend more time in nature. And mark your calendars for the Outdoor Retailer Winter Market, November 5-7, 2019 at The Denver Convention Center.

Here are a few of the trends spotted at the show:

Elevated Athleisure: The athleisure trend in fashion has existed for years and shows no signs of stopping. Yogavated Athletics is perfect for any athleisure lover whether you are looking to achieve a comfortable stylish look or supercharge your workout. For art lovers or anyone looking to stand out, check out the (We Are Art) collection where Yogavated Athletics engages real artists to showcase their work on Yogavated Athletic’s perfectly proportioned pieces. You will be noticed when you wear this brand and be encouraged to work-out more.

Gluten-free Goodness: Living life gluten free means a lot of hard work and sacrifice, but one thing you should never sacrifice is flavor. And thanks to Voyaging Foods, you never have to. This Hawaiian food company has introduced Taro powder, a gluten-free flour and cornstarch alternative, to the masses and nobody is complaining. Taro powder is high in fiber, potassium, iron, and is low glycemic, so it’s good for you, too!

Clean Puppy Play: If your furry friend has a tendency to track dirt and grime into the house, the paw and body wipes from Jax & Cali are a must have. These vegan, hypoallergenic wipes are super thick and allow you to effectively clean your pup’s paws without the hassle.

Affordable Outdoor Apparel: Love outdoor apparel, but hate the steep price? Try Mountain and Isles. They’ve got you covered with high quality outdoor apparel from hats to outerwear at a fraction of the cost of other brands.

Sanitary Showering: Showaflops shower shoes include drainage holes in the sole to increase drying time and reduce slipperiness. Basically if you shower anywhere but your home, you need these. Whether you are a college student or showering in a gym locker-room, Showaflops has you covered.

Comfortable Camping: Let’s be real–getting outside is amazing, but not when nature calls. Cleanwaste offers a top-quality, well thought out, functional line of products that make for an optimal bathroom experience when plumbing isn’t available.

Elevated Outdoor Living: If you love camping but hate sleeping on hard, uneven surfaces, the Kamprite original tent cot is perfect for you. Stay dry and enjoy a goodnight sleep under the stars with the Kamprite original tent cot, and be sure to check out the full line of clever camping products including, of course, “the Divorce Chair.”

Smartphone Protection: Everyone has experienced it. Whether at the beach or on the ski lift, you look down and your phone is dead. Phoozy smartphone protection has finally remedied this with its insulated smartphone pouches. Phoozy affords piece of mind while enjoying your favorite activities and users are loving it!

Protective Activewear: Nothing feels better than getting out and exercising on a beautiful day, until you have to deal with the sunburn later. Protect your skin from aging and skin cancer with Bloq-UV clothes. Unlike a standard t-shirts which only block 5% of the sun’s rays, Bloq-UV clothes block 98% of UVA/UVB rays making it the only choice for outdoor wear in the summer.

Sun Safety: Protecting your skin from the sun is an incredibly hot topic these days as it can reduce signs of aging and decrease the likelihood of certain types of cancer. One standout must-have item form the Outdoor Retailer Show was Spot My UV, UV detection stickers. These small stickers mimic the effects of the sun on your skin and change colors to let you know when it is time to get out of the sun.

More Protection For Hotter Summers: Our ozone layer protects us from exposure to UVB radiation, but with ozone depletion, the sun is shining down harder and hotter than ever. This means hotter summers, drier skin, and redder sunburns. Made to block 97% of UV rays, Wallaroo’s UPF 50+ hats are proven to aid in the prevention of skin cancer.

Sweat Right: While sweating is a necessary and beneficial process that helps regulate the body’s temperature, it does have its own challenges. Body Glide has a range of anti-chafing balms, specially formulated to roll on the skin and provide all-day comfort and stop chafing and blisters before they begin. The balms are sweat and water resistant, keeping pores clog-free by allowing sweat to escape and letting the skin breathe.

Adaptable Fashion: I know using a backpack is better for my back but it’s so much easier to wear it on one shoulder… which totally defeats the purpose. Men, I know you have seen other men rocking messenger bags and thought about whether or not you could pull it off. Hillside Industries has everyone covered with its new versatile technology that allows users to carry its bag as both a messenger bag and a backpack. With this product you can rock a messenger when you want to, but it also offers the comfort and safety of a backpack when you don’t.

Make Gardening Fun: Have you been dying to get out into the garden but don’t know where to start? Council Tool Axes are beautifully crafted and fabulously sharp inspiring anyone to get out into the yard and get your man on.

As seen in Whole Foods Magazine