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dwobbitfromtheshire · 23 days

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Vampires in the Dark

A/N: I was just going through my draft folder, and I found this little gem.

Summary: Steve dies in his sleep and wakes up a vampire. Also, why is he suddenly thinking about his own ass with images of himself wearing Eddie's vest?

Steve went to sleep after the gates closed. His bat bites were still killing him and kill him they did. He went to sleep that night and succumbed to his wounds. Yet, he still woke up the next morning. The sunlight streamed through his window and hit his skin harshly. Steve groaned and rolled out of bed, rushing away from the beam of light. His head was killing him as well as his gums. He went to his bathroom and brushed his teeth. It didn't help.

He took a shower and turned the water to cold when the hot water nearly burned his skin. After his shower, he realized he was hungry and whipped up some breakfast for himself, but it did nothing for him. Steve frowned. He looked at the clock. Shit he was going to be late. He was supposed to pick up Robin and meet the others to help with cleanup. He grabbed a pair of sunglasses and rushed out the door.

"What's with the sunglasses?" Robin asked as soon as she got into the car.

"The sun is killing me today," Steve said.

"It's not even that bright out," Robin said. "How's your bites? Are you feeling rabid yet?"

"No," Steve scoffed. "They're actually fine. The pain is completely gone."

"What? They were killing you yesterday. You were so bad, Joyce insisted that you didn't come today," Robin said. "You're going to be in big trouble when she sees you."

"Seriously, I woke up this morning and felt fine. The bites are even closed up. I mean, the sun is killing me, and even though I ate this morning, I'm still hungry. I've been having these weird thoughts today too. Like at one point, I was humming Metallica, and I was weirdly thinking about my own ass. I also couldn't get the image of me wearing Eddie's vest out of my mind," Steve said. "So, it's definitely been a weird morning."

"Maybe you miss Eddie," Robin said softly.

"No, I definitely do," Steve said, gripping the steering wheel. "It's not fair!"

He pulled over, breathing heavily, gasping for air. He couldn't breathe. Tears prickled and burned in the corners of his eyes. He let out a sob. Robin placed a hand on his shoulder and began to rub his back.

I'm still here, Stevie. I'm still here.

Steve snapped up and turned to Robin, wiping away his tears.

"Did you say something?" Steve asked.

"Um, no."

"I think I'm going crazy," Steve said.

"You're grieving, Steve," she said softly.

"But I barely spent any time with him at all!" Steve exclaimed.

"It's not about the quantity of time you spend with someone but the quality," she said.

"I think I really liked him, Robbie," Steve said.

Oh, Steve.

Steve and Robin pulled up the center of town where everyone was helping with clean up. Even though the gates were closed, it still left behind a huge mess. Houses were destroyed, and City Hall was still split down the middle. They were currently working on trying to salvage what they could. They got out of the car, and Robin hurried over to his side.

"Show me your bites," Robin glared. "I need to see if you're telling the truth."

"Robin!"

She pulled on his polo, tugging them out of his pants and raised them up. Robin's eyes widened.

"Okay, no way in hell. They're closed up alright, and they look like they healed a long time ago," Robin said. "Oh my God, Steve! Your skin is burning! In the shade now!"

Robin pushed Steve behind a wall, away from everyone, and his skin stopped sizzling.

"Okay. That was weird!" Steve said, frowning.

"Oh God! I have a theory!" Robin exclaimed.

Before he could stop her, Robin ran off. She ran towards Hopper and Joyce.

"Where are the kiddos?" She greeted Joyce.

"They're with Max. They haven't left her side since she woke up, I left them to it. They can help out later," Joyce said.

"Oh, good!" Robin exclaimed. "We have a problem."

"What is it?" Hopper asked with a sigh.

"There's something wrong with Steve," Robin said.

"I told him he needed to see a doctor," Joyce sighed. "Are they infected?"

"I think you should just come with me," Robin said.

Hopper and Joyce followed her to where she left Steve. He was no longer leaning against a wall. He was kneeling on the ground with his back to them.

"Steve? Honey? Are you okay?" Joyce asked.

He turned to them, a dead cat in his arms, and blood on his mouth.

"I'm not hungry anymore," Steve cried.

"I think Steve’s a vampire," Robin said.

Hopper and Joyce followed them back to Steve’s house. Joyce was quick. She started fussing over Steve as soon as they set foot inside of his house. She wiped blood off his mouth while Hopper hovered nearby.

"He's not going to hurt me, Hop," Joyce said.

"How do you know that, Joyce?" Hopper asked.

"Because he went straight for the cat instead of Robin," Joyce said.

"I love cats," Steve said sadly. "I wasn't going to mention it, but you guys have a weird smell that puts me off. I think I'm a vampire who prefers animals. I really do NOT want to eat another cat again, though."

"You don't feel you're being controlled at all?" Hopper asked.

"No, I mean, there's this voice in my head, but I think it's just because I miss -," Steve cut himself off.

I'm still here, Steve. I'm right here, big boy. Listen to me. I got trapped here, and I don't know how to get out. I've been trying to reach you, I don't know how, but I feel you more strongly than before. I can hear you and now I know that you can hear me! JESUS H CHRIST! ANSWER ME! I don't want to be crazy. I killed Vecna. I brought him down!

Suddenly, an image of Eddie fighting Vecna and ripping his throat out with his teeth filled his mind. Eddie was running as the world shook around him as he tried to get to the gate, but it slammed closed in front of him, and Eddie was screaming on the floor of his trailer.

I can hear you.

"Steve?!" Robin was screaming at him and shaking him.

"I'm okay," Steve said, shakily.

"What was that?" Joyce asked.

"You know how we thought that Vecna died of his wounds?" Steve asked.

"Oh, God, he didn't? Is he still alive?" Robin asked.

"No, no, no! He is definitely dead, but we didn't do anything. Eddie killed him," Steve said.

"Eddie's dead," Robin said.

"He died, but he came back, and he's like me. It's why I can hear him," Steve said. "He's stuck in the Upside Down. Robin, he died, and he turned into a vampire. Oh. Damn. I think I died last night."

"Oh, Steve," Robin said tearfully. "You died."

"How sure are that he's in there?" Hopper said.

"I don't know. How sure was Joyce that Will was in the Upside Down?" Steve asked.

"Will was her son, and she loved him," Hopper replied.

"Right," Steve said, growing flustered. "I mean, I definitely - he's a good friend, and we haven't gotten to know each that well, but I would like to, you know, as friends, which is why I think we should try to get him out of there. He belongs with me - I mean, us!"

"You don't have to say anymore if you don't want to, honey," Joyce said. "Of course, we're going to help him."

"We're going to have to open a gate, Joyce," Hopper said.

"I know, but if what he's saying is true, then that means Eddie saved the world. We need to try," Joyce said. "One last time. What would you do if it was me?"

Once they came up with a plan, it was decided that they would do it at night in a few days. Robin had wanted to come with, but Hopper thankfully decided the fewer people the better. Owens' people were still guarding the sights of the gates, but Hopper managed to get rid of the guards surrounding the place where Fred died. It was easier to get through that way. Unfortunately, it meant that El had to get involved, and, of course, she was quite eager to help the man who helped save her friends and the entire town.

"Dustin is very sad. I do not like it," El had said. "Am I going in with you?"

"No, absolutely not," Steve said. "No, all you are doing is opening the gate. In fact, I am going to go in alone."

"Steve - ," Joyce protested.

Steve sighed and took out his knife. He sliced his palm and held it up so they could watch his skin stitch itself back together.

"I can heal. You can't," Steve said. "If anything goes wrong, close the gate behind me."

"Steve, you don't have to do this alone," Joyce said.

"I'm not. You guys are going to be on the other side waiting for us," Steve said.

"You're a good man, Steve," Hopper said. "You better come back. Can't lose another kid . . . No matter what, you're our kid."

Steve fought off the tears as Hopper pulled him into a hug. Joyce pulled him out of Hopper's arms to hug him tightly, and then it was El's turn. El opened the gate, and Steve glanced at them one more time before crawling into the Upside Down. He had hoped he wouldn't have had to step foot in this place again, especially so soon. He could feel him.

Hey, Stevie.

Steve grinned and followed Eddie's presence all the way to the Munsons' trailer. Eddie was sitting on the steps and flashed his dimples at the sight of Steve. They moved at the same time, and then they were running towards each other. The two vampires embraced each other tightly, nearly bringing each other to the ground when they collided. Steve trembled in his arms tightly.

"I'm sorry we left you here, Eddie," Steve sniffled.

"Hey, none of that," Eddie said, pulling back to cup his face. "I was dead. You had to get out of there. I'm not mad."

"You're not?" Steve asked softly.

Eddie smiled, leaned forward, and placed a soft kiss on Steve’s lips. Steve returned the kiss with great enthusiasm, gripping the back Eddie's ripped up jacket. They broke the kiss and leaned their foreheads together.

"Come on, big boy, they're waiting for us," Eddie said.

"Right, right," Steve said.

Steve grabbed his hand and began pulling him along. As soon they crawled out, El closed the gate, and they were quickly ushered into the car. It was quiet as they drove to Steve’s house, and they soon piled into the house. El was the first to approach Eddie.

"You saved my friends and Hawkins," El said. "Thank you."

"And you must be the supergirl who saved our asses multiple times," Eddie said. "It is I who should be thanking you."

"Wonder Woman," El corrected. "I like Wonder Woman."

"A girl after my own heart. Really could have used the lasso of truth sometimes, huh?" Eddie asked.

"Max says it would help to use it on Mike," El said with a smile.

"Yeah. Love that kid, but he's a tough nut to crack," Eddie said.

"I like you," El giggled.

"I like you too," Eddie said, booping her nose. "Oh, I think you have something in your ear."

El gaped when he pulled a quarter out of her ear, and Eddie grinned as he showed her the trick. Meanwhile, the other three were leaning on the kitchen, watching them fondly. Steve tilted his head as he watched them. He leaned close to Hop.

"You know, they kind of look a like," Steve said.

"They do," Joyce said. "Do you think they might be related?"

"Huh," Hopper said, narrowing his eyes at them. "I'll look into it but I doubt it."

"I should probably teach Eddie how to feed," Steve said. "As much as I hate to break this up."

"I am hungry," Eddie said. "Now that you mention it."

"Come on, out in the woods," Steve said.

Steve walked out the back door with Eddie, leaving the others inside, and grabbed a bag by the door. Once they were away from prying eyes, Steve reached over and took Eddie's hands. Eddie grinned and intertwined their fingers.

"What am I excepting here?" Eddie asked as they walked into the woods.

"We're going to feed on animals," he replied.

"We're not going to kill them, are we?" Eddie asked as he went pale.

"Of course not. It's sweet that you're worried about that," Steve said and kissed his cheek. "We're going to find a deer now. Focus and use your senses."

It took a while, but eventually, they found a deer. It helped that they could see in the dark. Steve held the deer gently and exposed its neck to Eddie.

"You'll feed right here, and I'll show you when to stop," Steve said. "After that, you should be able to know when to stop feeding. When you get done, lick the wound."

Eddie gave him a weird look before exposing his fangs. He sunk them into the deer and drank deeply. Steve began stroking the back of his head, and Eddie's eyes fluttered. Steve yanked at his hair and pulled him back. He was done.

"Jesus," Eddie said.

"Now, lick the wound," Steve said.

Eddie gave him an odd look, but he did what Steve told him. Eddie grinned when the skin started to stitch itself back together.

"It's healing!" Eddie exclaimed and laughed.

"Yeah, now get the food and water out of the bag. Give it to the deer," Steve said.

"That's fair," Eddie said and cooed as he fed the deer.

Steve smiled and watched him pet the deer before sending him on its way.

"It's still very weird, but it's better than feeding on humans, and we'll certainly draw less attention this way," Steve shrugged, and Eddie stared at him. "What?"

"What do you think it's like for vampires to feed off each other?" Eddie said.

"I don't know, want to find out?" Steve asked.

"Yeah!"

Steve smirked before pinning Eddie to the ground, his hands above his head.

Meanwhile. . .

Inside the house, Hopper, Joyce, and El were waiting patiently for them to return. They needed to discuss Eddie's return and how they were going to announce it to the world. Plus, Hopper was curious to know if they could handle not one but two vampires living in Hawkins. There were so many things to talk about.

"They should have been back by now, right?" Joyce asked.

"I will go check on them," El said.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to go out there with two vampires in the middle of a hunt," Hopper said. "I'll go."

"Do you have powers?" El asked.

"Well, no," Hopper frowned.

"Then I will go," El said.

"There's no use arguing with you, is there?" Hopper sighed. "Fine."

El went out the backdoor and came back a few minutes later.

"They are alright. I did not see them, but Eddie is making happy screams. Whatever Steve is teaching him, Eddie keeps agreeing with him a lot," El said and paused. "Mom? Dad?"

"What is it?" Joyce asked softly.

"Why would Steve call Eddie Daddy? Eddie is not Steve’s father," El frowned.

Joyce almost choked on her water as she laughed.

"You want to take this one, Hop?" Joyce asked in amusement.

"I do not," Hopper said with a groan.

"I will ask Mike," El nodded. "Once they know Eddie's alive."

"You will not! Alright, fine! I'm going to need to sit down for this one," Hopper said. "And a drink."

Once they came back, Hopper was glaring at them, and El's face was a little red.

"Did we miss something?" Eddie asked.

"I'm happy for you guys, I really am, but next time, keep it in the bedroom so I don't have to explain to my daughter again why Steve likes to call Eddie Daddy," Hopper said.

"Oh god!" Steve exclaimed, covering his face with his hands.

"Sorry about that, Ellie," Eddie winced.

"I did not see anything, but you are very loud," El replied.

"Sorry. Again, I'm so sorry."

The embarrassment that had settled over the lot of them had faded over the last couple of days. Although, Joyce still thought it was funny. Eventually, people learned about Eddie's return, and so, over the next few days, Steve’s house was filled with people. He watched as Eddie was tearfully reunited with his uncle and the rest of Corroded Coffin, Eddie introducing Steve with a huge grin on his face. His reunion with his uncle had made Steve tear up, but when Eddie was reunited with Dustin, he let the tears fall as Eddie and Dustin pulled him into the hug. He held them both so tightly, never wanting let either of them go.

"Mother reunites son with baby daddy," Robin said. "That's a great headline."

"Fuck off, Robin!"

It was strange, despite the fact that Eddie and Steve were technically dead, he never felt more alive than in this very moment.

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seiueina · 10 months

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I couldn’t help but think what it would be like for the significant other of Ego Jinpachi…and how married life and parenting life would change drastically while he took more of his responsibility to the Blue Lock Project.

unfinished, not proofread, i’ve had this in the drafts for so long so i am deciding to just post it now :3

“Where is the stupid pass?” You utter as you scramble through your backpack, the backpack that was filled with a lot of things..things that are needed for the kiddos and needed for you. You always noted that you have to clean the backpack out at some point but with raising two children at the age of 4 almost entirely by yourself…is exhausting and you always forget to clean the bag out.

“Mommy I need to pee!!!” Your daughter, shouts just as you found the pass in order to enter the Blue Lock building. “Give me one second! Let me scan this real quick!” You exclaim as you hurriedly put the pass against the scanner, the scanner stays a red LED color, you gasph. Repeatedly putting the pass against the scanner.

‘Entry Denied’

At this point in the day, you we’re already overwhelmed. Taking your son to his soccer game early in the morning and then running home quickly because you forgot to pack your daughters ballet shoes…rushing then over to the dance studio and now ended up here. Unable to get through the door and to a bathroom in which your daughter (for some reason) needed so urgently all of a sudden. You stood there, the tears lining your waterline.

You wanted to let everything out. Cry, scream, shout, curse your husband out the moment you saw him. Years before this…it wasn’t like this. You wouldn’t have imagined your life to become of this. He promised you that he will split his attention from this Blue Lock Project and his family. But he didn’t live up to the promise.

You would go days without hearing a single thing from Jinpachi. Any and everything that you were updated about your husband was given from Anri. The woman who is working with your husband on this “stupid” project. You didn’t feel any remorse for her, you couldn’t bring yourself to even though at this point she’d seen and been in his presence longer than you have in 3 months. And including now…even more so you couldn’t hate Anri, especially when you hear her calling your name.

“y/N-sama!!!” She screams and your ear perks up. “I can’t get in!” You shout back, and she runs up to the door and puts her pass onto the scanner, it quickly lights up green and the door opens. “Mommy I need to go!” Yumi, your four year old daughter utterd again and you swiftly grab her from the ground and rush towards the sign with the restroom sign. Your son, Yuri, quickly following behind you. Luckily, you were able to get to the restroom and Yumi was able to go to the bathroom just in time before an accident occurred.

“Let’s go see your father.” You huffed before leaving the restroom and finding his office. The moment you got there, his eyes were glued on the many of many screens plastered on the wall. He didn’t bat an eye at the supposedly three important things in his life. “What did I say about knocking. Anri- I am”

“Jinpachi.” You exhaled, he turned his head around to see you standing near the door. Your children running around his office as you couldn’t care less about what they were up to in this moment. “Oh. y/N.” He breaths out before returning his head back to the many of many screens, all displaying each individual clips of the players.

“That’s all? Is this really what we mean to you?” You grumbled, walking closer and closer to your husbands desk chair. “Look at me Jinpachi.” You say as you turn his desk chair around. He now faced you.

“Why are you even here? Can’t you see, I am busy reviewing match clips of my unpolished gems.” He replies with a growing urge of annoyance. “So your more interested in these “unpolished gems” then those gems?” You shout, pointing over to the two children the both of you created, he looks over in the same direction then back at you.

“Watch your attitude when you’re talking to me. You’re the one who came here unannounced.” He scoffs standing up from his seat. The two of you were almost the exact same height, Ego only being one inch taller than you, he just barely towered over you, but with just enough space for him to sinisterly smile down at you. “Let’s get a divorce then.” You say, leaving him in utter shock as you go and grab the kiddos from the couch. “I am sorry for yelling.” You apologize to your children as you saw them with hands over their ears. “-C’mon, papa is busy with work…maybe one day he’ll want to see you!” Staying as optimistic as you could.

You were over it to say the least. Ego Jinpachi wasn’t the same man you fell in love with 10 years ago. He’s changed drastically and you can’t help but blame the JFU and this whole Blue Lock Project. With each kid holding your respective hands, you walk past your soon to be ex husband.

“Bye daddy!” Both kids cheerfully smiled and waved at him as the door to his office opened. There you startled Anri who was holding a laundry basket. “Ah! y/N! Leaving already?” She awkwardly laughs before looking up at you. “-No she isn’t.” Your husband blurts out. “Errand girl. Take Yuri and Yumi somewhere…I have an important conversation with my wife.” Jinpachi continues as Anri raises an eyebrow. Looking at your face.

“I guess I can take them to meet the players!” Anri whispers, you wanted to hear your husband speak to you…you didn’t know why. He could have given you his time a day a few seconds ago, so why now does he want to give it? You hand your kids over to Anri. “Okay babies, go with Anri-chan, she’s gonna show you guys all over while daddy and I have a talk!” You say cheerfully before sending them off on their way.

Once the doors to his office closed he quickly started, “You’re not divorcing me.” He speaks and you walk closer to him. “What if I am?” You reply, arms crossed over your chest.

“y/N. I am still in love with you.” He says looking at your face, seeing any type of reaction that’ll perform. “Really? Well it sure don’t look like it!” You exhaled, shuddering your shoulders he steps back, exhales a breath.

He stays quiet, standing in the same position. You rub your temples, "Exactly what I was thinking...am' gonna pack me and the kids stuff and stay at my parents until further notice. I'll contact the lawyer and they'll give you call." You speak aloud, hesitating to turn around and walk to the door just in case, maybe, he'll say something. But he doesn't.

“That’s what I thought…” Whispers came from your mouth as your waterline brimmed with tears as you turn around to exit Jinpachis' office.

#ִ ࣪𖤐 satoberrie #ִ ࣪𖤐 sumijade's writing #ego jinpachi #blue lock #bllk manga #bllk x you #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock x y/n #bllk headcanons #bllk ego #jinpachi ego #ego jinpachi x reader #anime

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sitp-recs · 8 months

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my most dearest Liv, I am so grateful for your existence upon this platform. thank you for running this gem of a blog.

I sincerely hope you’ll forgive me for this annoyance but I was hoping you could recommend fics with a draco that secretly loves physical intimacy and doesn’t shy from it later on w harry.

thank you so much ily

Thank you anon, that’s so lovely 🥹♥️ I’m sorry it took me ages to reply, this ask got lost in my drafts and I found it while cleaning my backlog. I really loved making this list because there are a few underrated gems here, I’ve marked the ones with less than 100 comments with an *. Enjoy!

* On Permanence by @the-starryknight (2021, M, 1.4k)

The possibility of going home with Draco is the only reason Harry comes to the club anymore. Tonight, there's a new kind of intimacy to be found outside the neon noise.

Let Me Count the Ways by @thebooktopus (E, 3.5k)

Intimacy comes in many forms. Draco wants to explore them all with Harry.

Is This Love? by @phd-mama (2021, E, 3.8k)

Draco wouldn’t call himself a tender man. He fights the forces of evil for a living, trying his best to pay penance for the evil he’s done. He’s fought and killed in the name of duty, and when he’s not on duty, he tends either to play hard or retreat alone. He doesn’t lean on anyone, and he knows he’s not the first person anyone goes to when they need care. Comfort. That all changes tonight.

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by @dorthyanndrarry (2017, T, 5k)

Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.

Two Starts, One Finish by @lqtraintracks (E, 5.4k)

I feel him before I see him. Nobody stands this close to me while I’m playing, and I’m about to turn to tell him so when he says, “You’re a tough bloke to track down,” and then leans against my baby grand.

* Service Bell by @shiftylinguini (E, 8k)

Draco is: a werewolf, living in a cabin in the woods, minding his own business, and never going to buy plaid because he's not that much of a fucking cliche (yet). He's also counting down the days until he sees Harry again.

* A Truth Universally Acknowledged by @sorrybutblog (2021, M, 19k)

A year out from the war, Harry agrees to accompany Hermione on a historical walking tour of Pride and Prejudice. Not in the itinerary: running into Draco Malfoy, setting off a summer of stately homes, lavish parties, resentful shagging, and maybe, falling in love.

Nice Things by aideomai (2020, M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

The Last of What the World Left You by @xanthippe74 (T, 25k)

If the wizarding world won’t give Draco a second chance, he has a plan to survive: live in his Animagus form, a carrion crow, in the Forbidden Forest. Not only does Harry Potter come along and ruin it, he’s radiating a strange aura of power. With nowhere to go and a Life-Debt to his mother that Potter insists on repaying, Draco puts himself into the hands of the reclusive Boy Who Lived. Will the bleak corner of Yorkshire where Potter makes his home be another dead end or an unexpected refuge?

REVOLVEVLOVER by firethesound, zeitgeistic (E, 46k)

The work Harry does is justifiable. It’s justice. He works for his country, and his country is a republic—the magical side, anyway. It’s not laudable work, it’s not work he’s proud of, but it’s necessary work. Harry has always taken the necessary jobs that no one else has the stomach for.

* The Darkness Before the Dawn by Ren (E, 55k)

A mysterious creature is loose in London, stalking and killing people. Auror Harry Potter requests the help of a liaison from the Beast Division and gets saddled with Draco Malfoy. Will they be able to stop the creature before it claims more lives?

Meet Me at Midnight by @the-starryknight (2022, T, 57k)

Harry was beginning to wonder if he’d ever make anything again when Malfoy stormed through the door of Harry’s furniture shop. Now Harry’s got an impossible Ministry commission to finish, and even less energy than ever to deal with his elusive muse. That is, until he stumbles upon the surreal and beautiful world of a mysterious fae creature…

A Room Up There (And You In It) by @the-starryknight (2020, T, 59k)

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit. Featuring a grumpy antiques lover who most certainly did not sign up for this, encounters with a vengeful apparition, and a healthy application of Christmas spirit.

Monster by @orange-peony (2022, E, 71k)

“Well, it’s still a music box that is not working properly,” Hermione points out with a very intent grin. “That will give you a chance to see him.” She wiggles her eyebrows, making him snort. As if Harry hadn’t thought about it straight away. As if Harry’s mind hadn’t immediately wandered to Draco Malfoy the moment Zabini mentioned a music box.

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena (E, 128k)

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter. Hiding out with a taciturn Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #physical intimacy

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missanthropicprinciple · 1 year

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miss anthro’s film recs: May 2021

Jurassic Park 1993: Watched this for the third time in a month today to celebrate it's release 28 years ago. Like most excellent films, it was created by a lucky intersection of talent. The remarkable premise was crafted into a brilliant script by David Koepp and author Michael Crichton; it was tight, clean, fast-paced - no plot holes and unnecessary scenes. Steven Spielberg really did a fantastic job of making a cohesive production and giving it a kind of emotional continuity. The cast is outstanding. I could write an essay about each one. Richard Attenborough brings pathos to John Hammond, the delusional tycoon. Sam Neill is perfect as Alan Grant, a jaded paleontologist who finds deeper compassion. Laura Dern gives a raw performance as the resolute and charming paleo-botanist Ellie Sattler. Jeff Goldblum stars as Ian Malcolm, chaotician and prototype "rock-star scientist." Bob Peck is wonderful as the sensible game warden Robert Muldoon. Samuel L. Jackson works his magic as sardonic chief engineer Ray Arnold. And of course, excellent performances from Martin Ferrero, Wayne Knight, Joseph Mazzello, and Ariana Richards. The special and physical effects are remarkable and most of them remain so nearly three decades later, including the life-sized animatronic Tyrannosaurus rex and just the right amount of CGI. Cinematography by Dean Cundey features god-tier-level use of scale framing. Not to mention great use of color, blocking, sound, costume, John Williams' beautiful score - you name it, this film really has everything going for it. Is this a perfect film? No, but it gets bloody close. Unmissable science-fiction that examines the horror unleashed by the arrogance of mankind.

The Birdcage 1996: This 25* year old film is a real gem. While the modern viewer (myself included) could find fault with some stereotypes, etc., the classic comedy has aged quite well. There’s a lot of slapstick and hysterically funny and clever dialogue. Williams and Lane are outstanding. There’s a very touching scene between the two of them which is very romantic and sweet. And of course the whole cast is perfect. I’m always impressed by this film when I haven’t seen it in a while.

The Moon-Spinners 1964: You don’t need to be a Disney fan to love this incredible classic. Hayley Mills is well loved but I don’t think she’s given enough credit for being not only a brilliant child actor but also a great actor as she aged. Her performance is stellar. The whole movie is fun and tense, bringing Mary Stewart’s novel to life in the great and beautiful country of Greece. It’s a fun adventure from start to finish with humor and romance.

Fairytale: A True Story 1997: Want to cry your eyes out about the Cottingley fairy hoax of 1917? You may not trust me but I recommend this experience. Honestly, this movie is life-changing. This is a depiction of a real life story involving historical figures. Usually no one gets that quite right but this movie kinda does. Peter O’Toole looks nothing like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but Harvey Keitel looks remarkably like Harry Houdini. Something about the music and what they do with this story gets into your bloodstream. I couldn’t possibly spoil for anyone who knows nothing about it, but I can say that there is some incredible CGI and a scene where someone faces retribution from an unexpected and shocking source.

edit 2023:

*now 27

I found this in my drafts. Clearly, life got in the way and I didn’t continue my recommendation posts (I have the templates drafted in text form.) Also, while drafting this edit I was attacked by a small beetle. I remain unharmed and have released the beetle into its natural environment.

#missanthrofilmrecs #jurassic park #the birdcage #the moon spinners #fairytale a true story #movies #movie reviews

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2dayihaveaheadache · 1 year

Text

I glow pink in the night in my room

It's Obikin time again. I know, I wrote another AU yesterday but this draft was just irresistible, I found it in a pile of other drafts and cleaned it, cut the edges, clearing the hidden gem it is. So, enjoy!

A Break in Their Day - David Hettinger American, b. 1946 (insipired a scene in this story)

AU prompt: Obi-Wan is getting divorced, ex-wife Satine (maybe? choose whatever char you think would fit, 'not the most amicalable divorce'-ish), he looses himself in the process, make him miserable, (down bad coping habits, smoking, a night out with Vos, something in that line, nothing too bad, treat him tenderly). So, he drives back home, Xmas-rom con style, (Hallmark-ish but not too cheesy), great reunion with the fam (please single parent Qui-Gon!) and then meets his great love Anakin. Give them some sort of happy end!

(thank my roommate for that prompt, and yes, that is word by word how she sent it to me. She loves her Hallmark romcoms.)

I glow pink in the night in my room.

Obi-Wan lives through the divorce but he loses three things: his condo in Fort Greene, his social circle of the last decade, and their cat – his beautiful, beloved Arfour. He is not thrown out like some stray; Satine isn’t that kind of person and she isn’t heartless, no enfant terrible. He can stay, she offers with a friendly expression, that does not reach her eyes, one hand gripping the other tightly – until he finds himself his own apartment he can stay. She even offers to give him a hand financially.

It is NYC, he adds mentally. It will take ages. Momentarily they can continue in their living situation, spending their evenings together like they used to, like friends before they became a couple – she stresses.

On Wednesday takeout from their favorite Thai around, when both of them run home late, Mango sticky rice, Panang curry, and fake, greasy Wan Tan wrapped in tin foil, which Satine loves with all her heart. Every time Obi-Wan runs over the street to the tiny shop, half past ten, they already know the order, just handing him two steaming plastic bags.

Bucatini Pasta on Friday. The Trattoria da Paolo is a lot more elitist and pretends to be the perfection of every cubist’s dreams. The inside is a cuboid made of white-washed concrete walls and a lot of glass, the former construction metal peeking through the concrete in a sense of beautified industrial style for people like them, that have never seen a factory from the inside but still idealize it from an aesthetic perspective because goddamn, a manufacture-like building can be pleasing to look at if it is designed by a multimillion-dollar architect.

And on Sundays Brunch with Mace and Depa, a befriended married couple, they meet every second week. A social obligation. Nothing quite pleasant.

They will continue as they used to, she says. Dining in the same room as the last fifteen years, drinking Chablis from the same crystal glasses, that were gifted to them over a decade ago, and setting the table with the same china, that Obi-Wan bought when he first moved out as a student, an Ikea snap.

Everything is static. Nothing needs to change; she explains with a soft undertone – just because they have gotten a fucking divorce.

Somehow their friends have taken her side. At least to him, it feels like they have, he thinks bitterly to himself after his second glass of Chablis. They smile at him with their paperwhite teeth like he is the casting director of some toothpaste commercial and then tell him how perfectly he and Satine have fitted together for the last couple of years, a dream team, their Emily Blunt and John Krasinski. Two stars in each other’s orbit, competing who can shine brighter.

Then they wait for Obi-Wan to grin to assure them that everything is all right like it’s his job to do, not the other way around. So, he does, he rubs their backs, puts on his most magnificent grin, and then talks about their amicable parting. No matter what has happened to their wedding band, they are still perfect for each other.

They have always been Satine’s friends, colleagues, or acquaintances, he thinks, whom she collects like pearls on a necklace to complete her image of perfection.

Although she is already perfect, a Wycombe Abbey graduate and human rights advocate for the International Committee of the Red Cross, considered to be one of the people to hold a speech for the UNO this year. The public adores her, what else is left for her to achieve?

And he had been – well, just Obi-Wan, a graduate of a community college, born in the middle of nowhere in Oregon, no prestige legacy awaits him.

She needs space and time to experiment – that is her reasoning when she sends her parent’s lawyers, all armed with Mont Blanc fountain pens. They have gotten married too early, foolishly young – but she will always love him some way, she states with her red lips curved into a soft smile.

The same expression the young girl wore, he once met fifteen years ago. Back then she had leaned over a bar counter in West Harlem, some bar with cheap lush, a glass of whiskey balancing in her hand. Her hair had been chopped off as if she had cut it herself, the bangs seventies styled, which reminded him of Stevie from Fleetwood Mac, and her jeans were decorated with feministic patches, idolizing Simone de Beauvoir, and Margaret Atwood. Absolutely charming.

She had asked him out first, a witty remark on her curved, red lips about his grandpa-like sweater, some snap from a Pittsburgh Vintage store. Then she had drowned her drink and kissed him, open-mouthed like he had been never kissed before. It had felt like he was destined to fall for her.

After the next rendezvous, he found out two more things about her. Firstly, she was always on the run for the next riot on the street, demonstrations for women’s rights, world peace, against capitalism, the elite her parents belonged to, et cetera. Secondly, she never truly lived in present; her mind was already away on the next barricade of some street fight for justice.

Fifteen years, two apartments and one adopted stray cat later, her hair is now cut by a professional once a month, she books online, and the pair of jeans, she usually wore, has been exchanged for a suit, unpayable for a normal wallet, tailored specifically for her, the rebellious phase overcome.

At heart she is still the same young girl, that wanted to see the world burn, fighting against policemen on street riots – that’s what he tells himself when he returns home late and finds her asleep on the kitchen table over some court case, fighting for justice – she has just adapted, matured, become more like her parents, something he would have never guessed back then. But that’s the way of time, isn’t it? He swallows.

Their marriage does only chain them, both of them, she stresses and tries to reach for his hand, almost tenderly, he jerks back. She wants to feel young again, going to modern art exhibitions, buying cheap tickets for movies in arthouse cinemas, illegal star gazing on some rooftop they broke into, dancing through the night to techno music – fucking feeling in love again.

She has fallen out of love with him although she is clever enough to leave that part out, he is sensitive enough to hear it.

So, he signs the papers, takes the Mont Blanc pen from her parent’s lawyers, and sets his name under the document, which seals the fate of his broken heart, biting his lips.

That night he finds a pack of smokes, bought ages ago, probably back in his twenties when he was still a student, half buried under a vintage copy of Stephen King’s The Last Stand, a book Satine hated for its apocalyptic content. He lights himself a smoke and hunches over the railing of the balcony. It had been her fucking idea, the condo in Fort Greene, the balcony, the cat, the entire status quo – and now it will be hers again.

Then why does it hurt so much?

He stares up at the dazzling night sky. The scene could be romantic if it would be shared, perfect for a Hallmark rom-com, he thinks to himself bittersweet. Or it could be painted by some artist of romanticism. Casper David Friedrich. The wanderer over the sea of fog. He nips his cigarette between his lips and breathes in the tobacco. For the next minutes, he only coughs, throat burning, suppressed tears of months streaming down his face.

Nothing so romantic about that.

The next months come, the snow melts on the streets and the first green decorates the trees of Fort Greene. Half a year passes and Satine stays to be right like she always does. No changes happen. It is like Fortuna is Satine’s goddess, her word is law, and luck blossoms along her way – at least to him Satine seems to be happy.

They smile at each other at the evening’s dinner table with stifling Smalltalk about their work. “How was your day?” “Good.” “Nothing stressful?” “Just the usual.”

They smile at their cat when they pet it as if they have not talked about split custody before. They smile at Mace and Depa at their usual Sunday Brunch while eating brioche and French butter from Ladurée Soho. They smile at his parents-in-law at their monthly visit, drinking Tea in a painfully expensive café and talking about how wonderful it is to live in NYC, pretending to be happy even though it hurts deep inside.

They smile at Satine’s charity events; he puts his arm around her shoulder and she gives him her hand. The paparazzi take photos of how perfect they look together. The next morning it is all over the press. The NYC dream team strikes again. The only thing missing is their wedding band, but nobody seems to notice. They see what they want to see.

Satine and him, they do everything the way they normally would, following their strict schedules, Satine fighting in court and him teaching at university. Happy and successful together, a true power couple, everyone is inspired by their achievements.

They attend his annual faculty party and Satine does it perfectly, dressing up in a red slip gown, laughing at his colleagues’ jokes, presenting her public persona of charming Satine, whom everybody adores and makes them tell him how beautiful his wife is – even though she is not his wife anymore. The word slips so carelessly over their tongue, marked by years of practice. Then his colleagues apologize, pad him on the shoulder and say that they still seem happy together.

They are in modern times, you still can be together as a divorced couple, right? Obi-Wan nods and smiles painfully.

They attend his parents in law golden wedding and this time it is his turn to behave perfectly. He wears the tailored suit, Satine picked out for him, and the watch, a Christmas presents he hates for everything it stands for a tedious status symbol but it does its job, making her parents happy. He jokes around with the guests, old-fashioned, sexist jokes, that taste bitter on his tongue. He talks publicly about his research and brags about his Ph.D. from Oxford – just as Satine wishes him to do, flaunting their happy and successful lifestyle into everybody’s faces.

The next morning, he struggles to come out of the bedroom. She sees it, she ignores it. They do not talk about it.

So, all they do is smile, talk, and pretend. They even smile in court like it is a contest, who can smile longer and brighter? Who can persuade more people with their smiles? Who can convince the public better, that they have been fine after the divorce? – it had been a mutual decision after all, hasn’t it?

Each day he applies a new layer to his masquerade of being perfectly fine until he feels like there is nothing else left of him inside the shell – but that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? He feels like wax from a candle, something she has molded more than ever into the perfect husband. As if now that he lost it, he tries more than ever to be him.

His smoking habit becomes worse. He can recognize it on her face, the slightly scrunched nose, and she can smell it on his clothes. He waits for her to ask him to stop. She never does.

So, he smokes on the balcony, a pack a week. He pets his cat, the same kitty she wanted to get. He kisses Arfour on the head, sleeping in the living room with her curled in his lap, afraid of what demons will await him in his bedroom, the empty bed staring at him daunting. Light still lingers under her threshold, he wants to know what she is doing, tell her how he is feeling, and tell her that he is a mess inside. But he does no such thing.

Another half a year later, he resigned from his job, cleans his office at Columbia, bides his colleague goodbye, and packs the cardboard boxes into his Bentley, leaving everything else in the fucking condo in Fort Greene – after all it’s not his anymore, it hasn’t been his for a long time. He toys with the thought of driving back, thumbing the key angrily on the kitchen counter, causing her the same pain, she had done to him. He shakes his head.

A fresh spring wind hauls through NYC when he decides that it is time to drive East.

Driving East means coming home. Oregon. The tiny town of fucking Tatooine.

He does not call Qui-Gon because he can’t stand the tears that will run down his face if he does. He is an emotional wreck and all that is holding him together is clenching the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, feeling the wind on his face from his window as he passes the streets.

Homecoming. He tries the words on his tongue. Homecoming. He has not been home since his last year of high school.

Two days and one night in a cheap motel later, he pulls the Bentley over. His neck is aching from the long drive when he drives past the town sign of Tatooine. He pushes down the brake pedal to look around, noticing the differences between his childhood memories and the present.

Everything is like it used to be: there is still the gas station right behind the town sign decorated with spray paint, where he bought gas for his first junk car, which he had owned with barely over eighteen. Qui-Gon had helped him scrap it together, it was his father’s present for Obi-Wan’s graduation. Just a few meters down Mainstreet there is still the old barn, where he and his friends would meet up, drink their stolen lush, smoke their cigarettes, or kiss and make up for the first time – he can still feel their hopes and dreams clinging to that place.

They had felt on top of the world back then, invincible like only teenagers could, that had not been hurt by the world yet.

And somehow the town has changed too: The old VHS store, always lit by 80s-looking neon lights, is nowhere to be found. Instead, a new convenience store has taken its place, a glass cuboid with a green logo. So, there will be no more borrowing Child’s Play and getting scared to sleep alone at night, Obi-Wan chuckles. No more sneaking into Qui-Gon’s bed and no more midnight peanut butter jelly sandwiches to cheer up his mood. No more sneaking into the adult section as a dare. No more flirting with the cute girl behind the counter and totally embarrassing yourself.

He pushes down the accelerator pedal, ignoring his burning eyes. Old and new puzzled together as he passed the streets and new buildings, a patchwork of memories and slate-grey asphalt. Only a few remnants have been left of his childhood, but what did he expect? Just two blocks until he will reach Qui-Gon’s house. He bit his lip and clenches his hands around the steering wheel.

The town hall has been renovated too, the 70s-style building has become modernized, glass and concrete greeting him as he drives by. The High School is still the same grey cuboid that reeks of purgatory. From the car, he can make out the hockey field and bleachers. At seventeen he spent a good chunk of time there, writing or sketching in his notebook – or secretly watching the team train on the ground, sweaty jerseys clinging to toned upper bodies in summer. His first boy crush had been awkward, unreachable, tinted by anxiety and internalized homophobia, and the end had been misery, crying his eyes out in bed for a week straight. Qui-Gon had been helpless.

He turns his head away and concentrates on the street again. Just a few blocks then he will see Qui-Gon again. Nausea creeps up his gullet. He stops the Bentley in front of his childhood home and lets the engine rev one last time.

The grass lane needs to be mown; he thinks as he watches the house from afar. There is still the apple tree in the garden, where once a swing hung. Qui-Gon had installed it so young Obi-Wan could play outside while he harvested his vegetables in the garden. There are still some of them left, salade, carrots, and Qui-Gon’s favorite herbs. From the street Obi-Wan could recognize a couple of wooden boxes of beehive huts hidden behind the lush green grass, seems like Qui-Gon had started a new hobby, that would fit him.

The white picket fence desperately needs to be colored again but Qui-Gon never really cared or better said, detested the image of a perfect suburb family connected to it, so the crumbling paint fits him better. He had always loved the mood of vintage, the nostalgia clinging to it. The kitchen window is open and some 60s pop is played somewhere in the house, probably a record player. The Zombies, Obi-Wan realizes and smiles softly, a vinyl he gifted his dad.

Obi-Wan steps out of the Bentley and walks the last step towards the door. He rings the bell.

The Qui-Gon, that opens, is different. His long grey hair is tucked away into a low ponytail, held together by a leather band. A few white strands have appeared at his temples and he wears machine-oil-stained jean overalls, that smell as if he has just tinkered in the garage behind the house – but most importantly, he looks at Obi-Wan like only a stranger could, confusion is painted on his face.

The other man clears his throat, hesitantly raising his hands to Obi-Wan’s face as if he wants to touch it, feel the difference, and then jerks back as if he has burned himself, turning away from his son.

“Obi-Wan… God, it must have been ages.” The voice sounds old, strange, and pained like it hasn't been used for ages. Obi-Wan averts his gaze and looks down at his wingtips. The leather is worn out and the stitching needs to be repaired. “Hello, Dad…”

Qui-Gon offers Obi-Wan a cup of tea as they stand silently in the kitchen.

The kettle boils on the gas ring and the older man thumps down two mugs on the kitchen counter, both handmade. The green one is taller than the other and the clay is uneven, shaped by a kid’s hands. Obi-Wan crafted it in kindergarten and Qui-Gon has ever since proudly used it as his go-to tea cup. An old Father’s Day gift. A bright, yellow sun is painted on top of it, stating “Tomorrow the sun will shine” in the cranky handwriting of a preschooler.

Now Qui-Gon hesitates for a moment as he realizes what cup he has pulled out of the shelf. He looks over his shoulder to Obi-Wan, offers a weak smile – almost shy like you would smile at a stranger, not your long-lost son – and then drops the tea bags into the mugs before pouring the hot water over them.

The tea tastes stale, green tea from the convenience store nearby. Nothing compared to the morning brew Obi-Wan buys for himself in NYC Chinatown when he runs the errands. Qui-Gon is not prepared for visitors, he realizes.

The simple green tea, the brown bottles of milk from the farmers around, and the handmade cups. That is how Qui-Gon lives all by himself, austere, like an old man living by himself. He cooks his vegetables from the garden, receives pickles and silver skin onion jars from the neighbors for the winter months, and buys only the necessities from the supermarket around.

“How have you been?”, tries the older man weakly as the silence becomes palpable. He is hunched over the counter and has offered Obi-Wan the only chair in the cramped kitchen. The other one, which used to be there, has disappeared, probably somewhere in the attic or sold. Without Obi-Wan, there had been no use for it. Obi-Wan cringes when he is spoken to.

The older man’s face is turned away, his gaze directed somewhere outside of the kitchen window, the garden, his vegetables, or the apple tree, lovelier things to look at than the stranger, that his son has become. He behaves strangely, not like the Qui-Gon Obi-Wan is used to. He behaves like a man, that has not spoken to a lot of people in the last few years.

“Good.,” Obi-Wan speaks softly, unsure, trying the words on his tongue. No one has asked him how he was feeling since his divorce, they always avoided the topic and pretended as if nothing happened, complimenting his new publication on astrophysics, or going on about how awful New York’s traffic is. Or they offered him their toothpaste commercial smile and rubbed their hands over his back as if he is a little child that you can console with a pad on the head.

As he takes another sip from the mug, he feels Qui-Gon’s eyes on him, calculating his reaction.

“You drive a new car.,” says the other man, averting his eyes again. A quite expensive one is left unspoken. Not the scrap car we built for your graduation. That one is gone too, isn’t it?

“A Bentley.,” Obi-Wan explains, nodding softly. “A wedding gift from my parents-in-law.”

Qui-Gon looks at him for a second, one lip between his teeth. Hurt flashes his expression before his face becomes stoic again, pain hidden in his grey eyes. Then they continue to drink their tea, too many broken promises hauling in the silence between them and no one dares to speak a word.

When the sun is about to set, they step out of the house to load the boxes out of Obi-Wan’s car and store them in the attic. “You can sleep in the garage.”, Qui-Gon explains as he opens the trunk and balances a box filled with books in his shaky arms.

The cardboard rips open and for a second all the books seem to hover in the air before they fall down on the asphalt of the street. All the book spines are exposed. Hemingway, Atwood, Steinbeck, etc. Old Secondhand shop copies from all over the place, Portland, Philly, Seattle, New York – and Tatooine. They are used, dog-eared, and pages filled with notes and drabbles.

“I…”, Qui-Gon stutters and kneels down to pick up a copy of John Steinbeck’s East of Eden.

The soft cover is broken, and one corner is ripped out but the young James Dean in the 1976’s version is still easily identified, staring dreamingly into the landscape. “You still do love John Steinbeck.”

Obi-Wan only nods and takes the book from Qui-Gon’s hand, cautious to avoid skin-to-skin contact.

He throws it into his cardboard and picks up the other books from the street, averting Qui-Gon’s eyes. John Steinbeck was or still is Qui-Gon’s favorite author.

He stacks the hardcover of Wuthering Heights on top of the Penguin classics from Jane Austen and lines up Nancy Fraser with Margaret Atwood’s The Edible Woman, keeping his hands busy, just to avoid Qui-Gon’s eyes on him.

“You haven’t changed that much.”, exhales Qui-Gon as if he is gasping for air, grabbing blades of grass and ripping them out with his left hand. “You’ve grown a beard to hide your dimples but they are still there.” He clenches his hands into fists, crushing the grass blades. “Sometimes things aren’t as easily erased as we wish them to be.”

Obi-Wan just stares down at the box on his arm

It is filled with remnants of his old life, which he had tried to bury in his office, far away from Satine. Notes, Books, Polaroids, etc, little gifts Qui-Gon had bought for him.

“Still, you are not …”, tries Qui-Gon with a hoarse voice before it breaks off and a sob escapes his lips. He is hunched over the last book in the grass, fidgeting with its pages.

You are not the same as you used to be, Obi-Wan. You are 41, have greying temples, and suddenly wear tweed jackets with elbow patches, a cliché you mocked when you were 16. You have married a woman, I have never even seen and divorced her before I could ever do it. You are a professor at Columbia and not an awkward high school student anymore, who I drove to school with every morning and who stole my wine from the shelf for a night out with friends. You are not 12 anymore and get scared of Child’s Play, so you sneak into my bed at night. You are not 9 anymore and beg me to go to a real hair salon because you are embarrassed about your bowl cut. You are not 7 anymore and hate your tooth gap.

You are not 5 anymore and love playing with your swing at the apple tree – you are not my Obi-Wan anymore.

It pains Obi-Wan’s heart to see the old man so desperately trying to find the right words to express his agony. He kneels too and takes the last book out of Qui-Gon’s hand, carefully, only shortly brushing skin against skin. It is Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol, the book Qui-Gon used to read to him when he was a toddler and now the older man is clinging to it as if his life depends on it. Diamond tears running down his wrinkling cheeks, fighting his voice.

“It is fine. Everything is all right. I’ll just take my old room.”, Obi-Wan assures, hesitantly grabbing the older man by his shoulders, and pushing him to his chest, unsure, an embrace of strangers. “I’m here.”

“You will not fit anymore. The bed is too small.”, cries Qui-Gon into the shoulder of his son, all the hardness of the years breaking down. All Obi-Wan can do is murmur a soft “Sorry” into his father’s hair, caressing him gently.

Convenience store sandwiches. Obi-Wan stares down at the plastic-wrapped packages and sighs. Two Rows of tasteless bread, glued together by mayonnaise, that has already diluted into egg and grease again, and sometimes a pitiful lettuce peeking out – if you are lucky.

Still, he is indecisive, letting his hand hover over one of the sandwiches. For some reason, he keeps buying them as if they will taste any different this time. They were his normal midnight snack when everything was closed except for the 24/7 discounter a walk down his street in New York.

In Tatooine, it is not any different. Qui-Gon has fallen asleep in front of the TV, a model from the 90s while watching some Game Show about parents guessing their kid’s lover, a ridiculous concept and yet so close to the truth.

After Qui-Gon’s heavy breathing turned into snores, Obi-Wan picked up a quilt blanket from one of the neatly folded stacks in the living room and put it over Qui-Gon, softly as if Qui-Gon was a child. He lifted his dad’s head, pushed a crocheted pillow underneath it, and kissed his forehead. Then he went to the kitchen to scan the fridge for a possible dinner solution. Except for two jars of pickles and a piece of margarine, it was empty, after a quick search a loaf of bread was found in the kitchen cabinet. He sighed. So, he figured, he could just drive to the new convenience store and buy some dinner while his dad got some well-deserved rest.

An electric bell pings as he crosses the opened door and one look over his shoulder informs him, that he has 20 minutes left to search for groceries before the store will close, fucking Tatooine. He strolls down the aisles, scanning the rows for necessities, a shopping basket dangling from his arm. For a supermarket, that barely measures two rooms, they have an astonishing variety in their alcohol collection. A Limoncello opens it on the top shelf and two steps away a Johnny Walker Black Label is just waiting for someone to take it.

“Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan grabs a beer, pushing it into his shopping basket, before turning around. Smiling through the pain, he thinks, and the next moment shame heats his cheeks.

It takes him only a second to recognize the man behind his back. Towering a few inches over him, still wearing his biker gang leather jacket just like in high school, grinning, is Anakin Skywalker. He still styles his hair in long loose curls, that make him look like a Movie Star from the 80s, though the roots have started to grow grey over the years, his eyes still gleaming with a friendly spirit.

“Kenobi?”, the man asks again, this time with a crooked grin, finger grabbing a beer next to Obi-Wan.

“The one and only.”, Obi-Wan answers. His voice sounds hoarse, embarrassed to be found in the liquor section, and the opposite of content to see an old friend again, so he pushes the basket behind his back.

“How long has it been? Nineteen years? Too many, anyway.”, Anakin grins, grabbing himself a bottle from the shelf, no shame in his action. His eyes roam over the label, before taking another one. “I thought you moved to New York, married a nice chick, and live your best life as a rich man there.”

“How would you know?”

“The press wrote about it, was hard to miss.”, Anakin grins again and raises his hand defeated. Obi-Wan sighs, as if Anakin self-centered Skywalker has read articles about him. At seventeen the man had barely thought about anything else than how to get into other peoples’ pants and his motorbike, why should that suddenly change? They have never been great friends anyway, barely greeting each other when they had met in the hallways. Anakin was two years his junior. Fate had diced them up once at a tedious party, letting them share one deep conversation, nothing more.

“Obi-fucking-Wan Kenobi, ex-president of the science club of Tatooine High, now suddenly an accomplished Physics Prof at Columbia.” Anakin lets his head fall back as laughter shakes his body, curls tangling around his sharp jaw. “We all thought you’re gonna win the Nobel prize one day, turns out we weren’t so far from the truth back then.”

Then he turns to Obi-Wan and his smile broadens. “I’ve got an idea. This lush is shit in here, convenience store shit. Often tried it and it won’t get any better this time, wanna go out for real? For the sake of the good old times.”

What go old times, thinks Obi-Wan. They have been acquaintances, not friends, but he lets himself be dragged out of the supermarket.

Half an hour later they sit in an Irish Pub, Yoda’s, a five-minute walk down Jefferson’s Alley. The area around Jefferson's Alley is a seedy neighborhood with tiny houses, crammed around square shaped backyards, like tenements, and no green can be found. The houses look grey and desolate in the light of the street lamps. It’s where Anakin has grown up, isn’t it?

As a teenager, Obi-Wan often hung around here, cycled around, played baseball in the yards with some other boys, and threw stones at Quinlan's window, a friend of his who had lived around. Now, Quinlan Vos was gone, married, a tattoo artist somewhere in Philly. He should visit him some days, thinks Obi-Wan, and focuses his eyes on his surrounding again.

Anakin and his friend had been rather infamous around here. For hours they would be lying in wait on the lawn in front of houses, spyglasses in their hands, just to catch a glimpse of the white plaid skirts, or rather a glimpse under the skirt of the neighbor’s girls.

The entrance to Yoda's is a staircase to the basement. Well-trod wooden steps and a time-worn railing lead the two down. The interior is filled with a cozy atmosphere, a jukebox plays in the corner, to the right a pool table, and on the left outside the bar counter, behind which stands a grim old man, a pipe in the corner of his mouth. With the deep wrinkles on his face, the man looks like he is over 80, with one carved crutch in his hand, and the other one on his pipe.

“Should I order something for you, my old friend? A Guinness?”, Anakin asks looking at Obi-Wan. He sits down straight at the counter and peels himself out of his leather jacket. It is thrown without caution over some chair nearby. The jacket used to be Skywalker’s treasure, the statement piece that dominated every outfit, his holy grail to impress every girl – or boy.

Obi-Wan only nods, testing the waters, and sits down on one of the barstools. After the grim old man taps two glasses of beer and pushes them over the counter, Quinlan turns to Obi-Wan, grinning, He grabs himself a pint, toasts it to his friend, and drinks off the foam with a deep swig. “So”, he says, wiping the foam from the corner of his mouth with one hand, “How have you been?”

“Comme ci, comme ca.,” Obi-Wan only offers with a small grin, tasting his Guinness, not wanting to dive deeper into the topic.

“Life is a bitch sometimes.”, answers Anakin, “I stayed here, and started taking shifts at Watto’s workshop after my graduation. I am now officially co-owner even though the old man rarely gets his hands dirty nowadays. But what did I expect.” Obi-Wan pads Anakin on the shoulder with the same pads he hates, but what else should he do to console him? He cringes inside at his inability. The other man turns his head to him and states, „You know what, I was jealous of you, all these years. You got to leave this shit hole.”

“There is nothing to be jealous about.”, starts Obi-Wan, “I resigned last week, no longer Prof at Columbia, I’m jobless for the first time since my Ph.D. I said ‘fuck you’ to my friends, moved out of my condo and now sleep in my childhood bedroom. After living in New York for fifteen years, or any other place, you realize that all cities are the same, all the same, shit holes.”

Anakin has laid down his head on the counter, staring at Obi-Wan from the side, one of his curls falling into his forehead, the others framing his sharp countenance. He still has the 80s movie star vibe to him, even nineteen years later with the first few grey strands and wrinkles next to his eyes. “I thought you married a nice, rich chic, living your best life there.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “Divorced?” It feels weird to nod now, admitting it for the first time in over a year even though it had happened so long ago. He takes another sip from Guinness. Anakin raises his head again, suddenly stating out of the blue, “Me, too.”

Obi-Wan raises a brow, the heartbreaker fucking Prince Charming is divorced? It does not fit into his view of the world. Back in High School Anakin could have had anybody with one snap of his fingers, how does it come that he is not a happy family man now? “I mean, I married.”, tries the other man, “Everybody else did it when the time came, so I did it, too. Saw Padme again, started a relationship, and proposed when it was reasonable. 9 nine years, that was how long our happiness lasted. I am a father now.” He sighs and taps on the counter to order himself another pint.

“Padme Naberrie?”

“Yes. You graduated together, didn’t you? She was on the top, perfect GPA, and had endless opportunities but she stayed here and went to the Community College. Later, working here at the local hospital. A nice girl with a golden heart, my mom loved her and that is the most important thing to me. Now she is the mother of my twins.” Anakin looks sad when he adds. “Nothing more I could wish for.”

“What happened?”

“I lied to myself and at some point, I could no longer pretend.”, states Anakin vaguely and drowns down his pint. “But what about you? Are you a father?”

“Yes.”, he answers fast without thinking about it. “A daughter – I mean, ehm, my cat.”

He expects Anakin to behave strangely now, be angry or disappointed, to tell him how dare he compare having a cat to having a kid as if it’s the same, but he does no such thing. Instead, Anakin asks softly. “What is her name?” Anakin uses the present form, not the past, not like Obi-Wan has lost her. Somehow Obi-Wan wants to hug him for that.

“Arfour.”

Laughter burst out of Anakin, which shakes his whole body. “You still love that Sci-fi series, don’t you? How was it called again? Star Destroyer? Something with Star.”

“How do you know- ehm, how do you remember?”

“Seriously?” Anakin looks jokingly offended. “Your whole locker was plastered with stickers from it and –“Anakin grins evilly. “I remember you having a crush on the main character. You would doodle pictures of him in your notebook when you would think nobody notice.”

“But you did?”

Suddenly Anakin’s expression shifts back to sad, his lips are pinched, and his eye bags are visible like he has trouble sleeping. “As I said, I was a liar for great parts of my life. The best probably and now it is most often too late to break free with the truth. All it does is getting people hurt who have been comfortable for years, who have settled down and fought for their luck. Who am I to suddenly destroy that because I have decided to speak the truth now?”

“Is that why Padme left you?”

Anakin buries his face in his hands before continuing more silently. “I, ehm, I slept with men during our marriage. Most often I would meet them through my work, I repaired their cars and they flirted with me. Later I would come to visit them in their hotel rooms and they would fucked me like a common whore on the cheap bed or against the shower while Padme set at home caring for the twins. That was what I wanted, no love, just the nagging in my heart to stop, the feeling that I was missing something.”

“She found out?”

Anakin nods. “I’m sorry, I feel ashamed for it. She found out one night, found the texts on my phone, screamed at me, packed the twins, and drove to my mother. I spent that night alone in the living room, asking myself why I was so fucked up as a person, why I could not be like all the others, happily married, a content father, why I always felt like there was missing something, why I was such a liar.”

He pauses, then he continues. “You know what is the worst? She came back the next day, told me she forgave, hugged me, and let me, the bastard, cry on her shoulder. She told me that she understood me, understood why I married her, understood why I always felt absent, understood that I loved her just not like that, and that I had tried my best. She felt sad for me, not for her and her wounds, for me, that I’ve been lying to myself my whole life.”

Anakin orders another pint. “Another one for you too?” Obi-Wan only nods.

Then he leans close, cups Anakin’s cheeks and kisses him like Satine has kissed him all those years ago, open-mouthed with tongue and everything, pouring all the suppressed sadness of the last months into the contact. Anakin responds in the same manner. It is not tender, it is harsh, and demanding, everybody grabbing what they want from the other, Obi-Wan’s hands in Anakin’s locks, and Anakin’s fingers sneaking under Obi-Wan’s grandpa sweater.

It grows messy quickly, threads of salvia connecting their lips, them rutting against each other like teenagers, that found out what their crotch is used for the first time, fabric rubbing against fabric. It is not about Anakin’s coming out, it is not about Obi-Wan’s divorce, and most definitely it is not about finding love in each other. It is about forgetting the pain, the suffering, the agony, freeing the emotions, that were locked inside. It is a happy, sad, angry kiss, with biting, tongue, and sometimes a moment of tenderness, when one of them needs it.

“Your house?”, Obi-Wan asks breathlessly before leaning in again. Anakin nods and grabs Obi-Wan by the hair, forcing their mouths together.

Later, laying in a bed together, Anakin’s arm possessively around Obi-Wan’s waist, they stare at each other in silence, a silent smile on their lips, that Anakin wishes to kiss. It was Obi-Wan’s first time with a man, Anakin noticed it, Obi-Wan sees it in his face, and they choose not to talk about it. Rather, enjoying what they have as long as it last.

As the sun raises, Obi-Wan finds himself in his kitchen again. “How did you sleep?”, asks Qui-Gon, taking a seat on the only chair in the kitchen, his voice high-pitched and still unsure. The old man has wrapped himself in a cardigan, blue and crocheted, the long gray hair is muddled together into a low-bun, yesterday's green cup in his trembling hand.

"Good," says Obi-Wan, turning away from the sink to his father.

Crockery is piled up in front of him, cheap porcelain with kitschy floral patterns. Primroses, which entwine around a single daffodil. Obi-Wan never liked the painted plates, but they have been cheap, a bargain in a Goodwill in Philly and they have been doing their job ever since. Qui-Gon liked the nostalgia he associated with them. Christmas dinner with some stubborn British great-aunt, he had, a Dolores Umbridge-like person from the outside but with a warm heart. So, Obi-Wan tries his best, puts on a crocked grin, one lifted corner, hums, and does the washing-up.

"And the bed still fits? No problems with the mattress?" asks Qui-Gon again. He has lowered his eyes, fiddling with a sleeve of his cardigan, where a hole still needs to be filled. He twirls the yarn thoughtfully between his fingers, furrowed eyebrows, too shy and unsure to look up into his son’s face.

"No problems," says Obi-Wan, leaning against the stove, trying not to think about last night in Anakin’s bed. He turns slightly to his father; his head tilted to the side and tries to smile. It feels convulsive and unnatural, yet he assures in a calm voice, "All right."

"I woke up in the middle of the night," says Qui-Gon, continuing to stare at his hands, which are busy with the cardigan. “You were not there anymore. I thought you might have left again.”

Obi-Wan stops moving, the dishwashing sponge hovering in the air, and the hot water continues to drop down on his skin. He clears his throat, tries to get rid of the bitter taste on his tongue, and lowers the sponge. "I was shopping," he explains and points to the fridge, "I just refilled what you were missing."

"Thank you," Qui-Gon says quietly, almost hoarsely. Again, he lowers his gaze to his hands, which play with a thread. Soon there will not be much left of the cardigan. "You didn't have to do that. I'll get along all by myself. "

"I know, Dad." Obi-Wan shifts back to the sink, his back turned to his father, absently biting his lower lip. “I know you are capable.” His voice is hoarse when he tries to speak again. “I met someone.”

“While you were shopping?”

Obi-Wan nods weakly, trying to hide his face from his dad, unsure of his reaction. “I felt like a liar for a long time in my life, stifling, chained in a corset. That person showed me the way out. I know at my age, finding true love is unlikely and it is not about that, it’s about trying, finally speaking the truth even though it might hurt yourself.” He pauses. “That Person is a man, ehm, his name is Anakin and I would like to introduce you two.”

“I would be honored.”

When he turns around, he can see Qui-Gon smiling, he is still shy, but it has gotten better. They are on the way; they just have to keep trying and fighting. One day, they might be able to smile like they used tp, happy, but it feels daring to say that.

(To be honest, I have soft spot for this Obi-Wan, maybe I come back later and write more for him, grant him some more happiness. It's a draft, will be rewritten someday, maybe more cleaned, made more suitable for Ao3, let's see. Untill then enjoy!)

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delicatenightfury · 9 days

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Star of the Mountain Chapter 31

Warnings: fluff, angst, canon-level violence, spoilers for the Hobbit films

Pairing: OC x Thorin Oakenshield

Beta'd By: @mistys-blerbz

Author's Note: please do not steal my work! I do not own the Hobbit or the characters, but I do own my OCs and the parts of the plot that are not part of the movies. I have worked very hard on this fic. Please be respectful and do not steal.

Please comment, reblog, and like!

Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Being king came with new responsibilities. Especially since Erebor had been abandoned for so long, and the Battle had taken place not long ago. Thorin found himself extremely busy.

To start, Erebor needed cleaning and rebuilding. Nearly all available dwarves were working on clearing stone and making things back to the way they were. Dwarves were slowly returning to the mountain, meaning that living spaces needed to be open and clean, as well as markets and other areas. Thankfully those that came were willing to help see Erebor returned to its former glory.

Then came the politics. Several days following the battle, Thorin worked on drafting a treaty with Thranduil and Bard. The three rulers agreed to become allies, since once their kingdoms were functional again, they would all benefit from one another. During these meetings, Bard tended to be the collected one of the rulers, but other mediators helped to resolve some tensions.

Thorin also made an effort to right the wrongs he had made. Gold was given to Bard so that the humans could begin rebuilding Dale and providing for themselves. The White Gems of Lasgalen were returned to Thranduil.

And Bard returned the Arkenstone.

When he had placed the stone on the table before them all, Thorin had tensed. He hadn’t truly seen the Arkenstone in years, and there it was before him. He had shut his eyes after a minute and forced himself to look at Bard.

“Thank you,” he had said.

Bard had nodded. Thranduil however had asked the question lingering in all of their minds:

“What will you do with it?” He then had added, “I would rather not repeat the events of the past.”

Thorin agreed. He was going to strive to keep his promise, to not become his grandfather again, nor succumb to the dragon sickness again. So, he decided to return the Arkenstone to its place in the throne room. It would still serve as the king’s jewel, but it would remain there.

Once the external politics were settled, Thorin found himself dealing with the internal politics involving those in Erebor. With Balin and Dwalin’s help, Thorin put together a counsel to help manage those affairs. Several members of the counsel had been in his grandfather’s counsel. The several new faces were dwarves that were well respected.

Soon enough, the counsel was meeting almost every day to sort out the necessary items. As things within Erebor began to settle with its reconstruction, the meetings would begin to become fewer during the following weeks.

It all was rather tedious. And exhausting.

And then there was recovery.

Amongst everything that Thorin had on his plate, he was still physically recovering from the battle. After almost three weeks, he was almost back to normal. The cuts and bruises he had sustained during the battle were gone. The only lingering pain was in his foot where he had been stabbed, and being on his feet for long periods of time did not do the wound much good. Oin was constantly nagging him to rest more.

But there was another pain Thorin felt, one that could not be healed by medicine.

For almost a week after the funeral, Thorin had not seen Oreliell anywhere. After asking some of the company, they said that Vedis was enforcing rest upon her sister, much to Oreliell’s displeasure. But now, Thorin was seeing her seemingly everywhere. She was more active now that she had recovered some. Tauriel mentioned that Vedis had been doing a healing spell almost every day for her since her wounds were a bit more extensive.

During the battle, Oreliell had received various cuts and bruises, as was expected in battle. She also had some bruised ribs, a slight head injury, and a stab wound in her side. Not to mention the fact that she nearly drowned. However, now that she had recovered some, she was mobile around the mountain. Meaning Thorin saw her around more often. And while he was happy to see her throughout his day, he also found it painful.

She was avoiding him. More accurately, Vedis was making it difficult for him to talk to her. Oreliell was always with her sister and any time Thorin tried to approach them, Vedis would glare at him. He knew that Vedis was frustrated with his actions before the battle, but he had doubted the lengths she would go to after the fact.

“I don’t know how much longer I can handle this,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. Balin and Dwalin walked on either side of him as they made their way to the council hall for the upcoming meeting. “I can barely get close to her.”

“Vedis does seem more protective than usual,” Dwalin said.

“Her sister was injured not long ago,” Balin pointed out. “Perhaps Vedis is just being vigilant.”

“Oreliell can look after herself,” Thorin said. “I haven’t had one moment with her since before the battle.”

The sons of Fundin exchanged a look.

“Perhaps that has something to do with it?” Balin said. “Unfortunately, things were not left well off. Yes, the sickness had great influence, but perhaps it has left a lingering wound for Oreliell.”

“And that is why I wish to speak with her, Balin,” Thorin said. “She is my One. I want to make amends, but that is hard to do when I can’t… Kili, what are you doing?”

The prince stood up straight and turned to face them as they came to a stop.

“Oh, hello uncle,” Kili said with a sheepish smile on his face. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

“What are you up to, lad?” Dwalin asked, crossing his arms in suspicion.

“Nothing.” The older dwarves continued to look at him. “Nothing, I swear! I was coming to the council hall as agreed for our meeting today and heard voices inside. I was going to go in, until I heard someone mention Oreliell.”

Thorin stood up a little straighter.

“What about Oreliell?” Kili looked hesitant to continue. “Kili.”

“They’re not entirely pleased, Thorin,” Kili said. “They’ve been talking about her, Vedis, and Tauriel, and their presence here in Erebor.”

Thorin stepped forward so he could take Kili’s place by the door. He could hear several dwarves conversing inside.

“How long must we continue to tolerate this?” one dwarf, Lord Korvon, exclaimed. “Erebor has been reclaimed, and yet those elves continue to wander our halls as if they were their own! Who do they think they are?”

“I heard that they were part of the King’s company and helped reclaim the mountain,” another voice said.

“And I heard that they used magic to seduce our king and prince,” said another. “This whole thing might be a plot from Thranduil to try and overtake our kingdom.”

“Whatever the case may be,” Lord Korvon said, “I do not like having elvish filth walking freely around Erebor.”

“And how do we bring up the matter with the king? Whether he is under a spell, or truly allies with the elves, how can we expect to bring up the subject?”

“We will find a way. We simply must wait for the right opportunity.”

Thorin stepped away from the door, glaring at the wood.

“What happened?” Balin said.

“It is as Kili said. They are discussing the probability of the elves using magic on us to stay in Erebor, or if they were working for Thranduil to overtake us. They are suggesting that they be dealt with.”

Dwalin seemed to growl.

“They have no right to assume such things,” he said. “I ought to go in there and-”

“No,” Balin said. “That will only increase the conflict. Do not forget that when the sisters joined our company back in Rivendell, many had the same thoughts. But we came to know them and thus saw them differently.”

“You’re right,” Kili said. “They proved themselves to us, gained our trust.”

“Precisely. To overcome this, we must show that they are on our side.”

“What do you propose, Balin?” Thorin asked.

The next day, Thorin looked as the doors to the council hall opened. The dwarf lords were talking amongst themselves but quickly went silent when they stepped inside. Thorin had to hold back a smile at their surprised expressions.

“My lords,” he greeted. “Come. Join us.”

The lords slowly came forward and took their seats at the table.

“Let’s get started,” Balin said.

The meeting got underway. Balin led discussion, bringing up various topics that needed to be addressed. However, after a point, Lord Korvon cleared his throat.

“Do you have something to add, Lord Korvon?” Thorin said.

“I apologize for the interruption, my king,” he said, “but I feel as though I speak for us all when I ask /why are… elves present today?\”

Thorin smiled when he switched to speaking in their native tongue.

“/I invited them.\” He glanced at Oreliell and Vedis before looking back at the dwarf. “/I have asked them to join this council.\”

Surprise overtook their faces.

“/What do you mean by this, my king?\” asked Lord Trinan.

“/This means that from this point on, they shall be part of my council. I greatly value their opinions and believe they will provide great insight.\”

“/Insight or not, my king, they are elves. What interest could they possibly have in dwarven politics, other than potential sabotage?\” Lord Korvon said, standing up. His face was becoming red as he glared at the women.

Thorin studied the dwarf for a long moment.

“/Are you questioning the king’s decision, Lord Korvon?\” Dwalin asked.

“/I believe I have a right to do so. We know next to nothing about these women other than they are now living within our walls. And for what reason?\”

“/Perhaps we should hear the elves out, Korvon,\” said Lord Malrak, “/and learn how they have earned their place at table.\”

“/They have no place here. Elves do not belong among dwarves. There is another plot here. Let us throw them out and be done with them!\”

Dwalin’s hands tightened into fists and Thorin noticed Kili start to rise out of his seat. He quickly waved his hand in order to stop them, but their movements were halted when Oreliell rose to her feet.

“/I believe it best, Lord Korvon, if you heed the advice of your fellow lords. They seem to hold more wisdom than you in this moment.\”

Korvon nearly stumbled back in shock.

“You speak khuzdul?”

“Quite well.”

“It is sorcery.”

“We have no magic abilities, Lord Korvon. We are ordinary, just like you.”

“I am nothing like you, elf.”

“Perhaps not. But as your fellow lords have stated, it might be best to listen for answers rather than accuse individuals of treasonous things.”

She stared at Korvon, as if daring him to make another statement. Slowly, Korvon sat down. Thorin smiled. Oreliell turned to look at the rest of the table.

“My name is Oreliell,” she said. “My sister and I hail from the lost realm of Thananti in the Icebay of Forochel. We are allies and friends of the king, a choice made of free will by all parties. We joined the company in Rivendell, where we chose to travel with them to help them reclaim their homeland from Smaug. Following the dragon’s death, we served on the battlefield to defend the mountain and its king.”

“How do we know that none of what you say is a lie?” Korvon asked. He glared at her as she sat back down. “I mean no offense, my king, but I do not believe that any of the members of the company would be good judges of this.”

“And why is that, Lord Korvon?” Kili asked.

“They would have had plenty of time to deceive you, my prince. Who else, other than you, can vouch for them?”

“I will.” Everyone turned their eyes to Dain. The Lord of the Iron Hills was leaning back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. “I was present during the battle. These two lasses led the elven charge to assist us against the orcs. Vedis there stopped a troll from takin’ my head clean off. I trust them.”

Thorin nodded to his cousin.

“As do I.”

“Lord Rusnig?”

Lord Rusnig was a few years younger than Balin. His snow white hair and wrinkled face showed his age, but his eyes still twinkled like that of a young dwarf lad. He scanned the room.

“Aye. I met these elves on the road, years after we were driven from the mountain. They saved my family from bandits.” He looked at the sisters. “Without them, my wife and children might have perished. For that, I thank you both.”

Oreliell smiled at him while Vedis nodded.

Thorin looked back at Korvon.

“Any other objections, my lord?” he asked.

“My king, even if these two remain on the council, there is no guarantee that the dwarves of Erebor will accept them. Their position on the council and in Erebor would be pointless.”

“Since the battle ended, Vedis and I have been active in the efforts to help,” Oreliell said. “We paid our respects to the fallen and have offered our assistance with the kingdom’s restoration, as well as assisted its people. Our faces are known throughout the mountain. The dwarves of Erebor have suffered enough at the hands of Smaug and Azog. Why would we wish to add on to it?”

Korvon’s glare hardened.

“Men caile.”

“Hold your tongue!” Dwalin growled.

Thorin stood up.

“Lord Korvon, need I remind you that you are replaceable here?” he said. “I am sure that there are many dwarves who would be honored to hold your seat. If you cannot control yourself or have an issue with the decision of your king, then you will be asked to step down so a new dwarf can take your place.”

Korvon at least had the common sense to look ashamed.

“Is there anything else that needed discussed today?” Balin asked. No one said anything. “Very well. We shall continue these discussions during our next session. Good day, everyone.”

The dwarf lords were the first to file out. Lord Rusnig stayed a few extra minutes to give another round of thanks to Oreliell and Vedis before he too left.

When they were gone, Thorin turned to the sisters. The others moved several steps away so that they could speak in private.

“Thank you for being here today,” he said, “and thank you for agreeing to join the council.”

“Of course,” Oreliell replied. “But do you think it was the right choice? Elves on the council of a dwarven realm?”

“It is what I wish,” he said. “I trust you both and value your opinions greatly.” Oreliell gave him a small smile. “Oreliell, I want to-”

The doors to the hall burst open suddenly. Everyone turned to find Nori and Bofur standing there, smiles on their faces.

“They’re here!” Nori exclaimed.

“Who?” Dwalin asked.

“Dwarves from the Blue Mountains!” Bofur said. “They’ll be here in an hour. They sent a raven ahead.”

He handed Thorin the letter. Thorin unfolded it and read the words inside. He couldn’t help but smile. He looked up at Kili as he passed the letter to Balin.

“Your mother is with them,” Thorin said.

Kili’s face lit up.

#The hobbit #Tolkien #Thorin Oakenshield #Thorin #Thorin Oakenshield x oc #Thorin x oc #Thorin Oakenshield x elf oc #Thorin x elf oc #Thorin x elf #The hobbit oc #Fan fiction #Star of the mountain

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yxami · 1 year

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Also, I know nothing about heizou, all I did was watch two short videos about him so I hope it’s at least a little close to him. Btw, I drafted this like a month ago and forgot about it but I’m finishing it today, Saturday, November 26

. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── .

Shikanoin Heizou, how often would you say that name in your life.

The mysterious detective had caught your eyes multiple times as you walked in the beautiful streets of Inazuma.

His green eyes and red flashing hair had made you blush each time you saw him. His features were so beautiful and you couldn’t help but fall for him. His features weren’t the only thing that had him pulling on your heartstrings so often though. All the stories you heard of him solving many cases and the way you heard him speak when the two of you chatted. He was intelligent and had the most soothing voice in your biased opinion.

But he was just your friend, which pained you to say.

You shoved the papers in your face trying to focus. You need to work on your things before focusing on someone else. You were sat on a bench right under a cherry blossom tree. You would occasionally have to brush blossoms out of your book and away from your hair. You couldn’t catch all of them though.

You felt a soft touch near you, a soft touch that brushed against your hair and plucked out a cherry blossom. “Is this yours perhaps?” He teased and showed the blossom that was in your hair.

“Hey, y/n. What are you doing? I was walking back from finishing a really challenging case, but of course I finished it.” He leaned over and bumped shoulders with you trying to peer over to see what you’re doing.

“I was just trying to finish some paper work that I have to do that’s due in two days. I just got a page and half to finish and then I’m done. I’m just worried that it’s not good enough.” You couldn’t help but notice how close he was and how he did not even acknowledge the term personal space.

“Ohh, well let me bug you for a bit if that’s alright with you?” He continued speaking once he saw the affirming nod you gave. “I just wanted to tell you about the case I just finished. It was rather difficult and challenging. I was given a call about a certain thief running around stealing a specific item in mind. Jewelry and he was known for stealing all sorts of gems and was sneaky about it too. Of course, I get right on the case and what happened was-“ He kept rambling on about the case. You wondered if he ever noticed how much he seemed to talk with you rather than the short elegant sentences he said with others.

“After he encountered me, he started running immediately and I caught up to him very quick thanks to my agility. He resorted to fighting and he took out a weapon and two of his buddies popped out of nowhere and and-“

You couldn’t help but laugh and he stared like a deer in headlights. He looks so confused it made you giggle more. “Hey hey, why are you laughing? I didn’t even say a joke” He huffed , you could tell he was embarrassed.

“Nothing , please go on with your story pfft” You waved your hand trying to dismiss your laughter.

He sat with slightly red cheeks, deciding on whether he should go on with his story but he eventually decided not to. The both of you chatted away till you both had to go home. You could see the sun setting and decided on heading home.

Although, Heizou wanted to come over. Which was a surprise to you, Shikanoin Heizou.. coming to your place? You hadn’t even cleaned up so you quickly denied even if it pained you to do so. He seemed slightly upset and asked why and once he found out why he insisted he didn’t care and the both of you walked to your home.

Heizou was already making himself at home, he had found all your pens and made little doodles while you changed in the bathroom. Heizou wasn’t preoccupied with any cases today so that’s why he suggested the visit.

While you were in the bathroom, he was trying to muster up the courage to ask you out for dinner. He was looking in your bedroom mirror trying to work out the words.

“Will … you go out with me? Perhaps for dinner? Tomorrow night, I understand if you cannot” He practiced. “That sounds awful, I need to word it more confidently. He was being stern in order to train his mind to be confident with you. He was always so carefree but he has to be serious about this one question.

“May I take you out to a restaurant tomorrow night? A romantic one if that’s okay with you”

“Sure, what are we eating?” You were in different clothes now, after you finished changing. You saw heizou’s aghast expression. He fell backwards in shock and you could hear the “THUMP!” Sound once he hit the ground. He was dazed on the ground, with blushed cheeks that you’ve never seen before.

“Are you okay?” You were just trying to tease him not even knowing who or what he was practicing for. “Umff, I’m okay..” He rubbed his head as he got out the chair that was now fallen like he was.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were gonna be so caught off guard. What were you even doing ? Practicing in the mirror?” You were sort of amused but still concerned since he hit his head so hard. “I was just.. uhm uhh.” He sighed after realizing he couldn’t figure out a lie so he decided to tell the truth.

“I was trying to practice asking you out to a date tomorrow.. I get it if you wish to not go out with me. It was pretty embarrassing you caught me like that” He made an breathy laugh trying to make himself less awkward.

“I do wanna go on a date with you! To be honest I’ve been head over heels in love with you for awhile but never got the courage to ask” Your cheeks reddened more with your words but you decided on confessions now and here since you knew he liked you.

“Really? I’m so happy, I did not expect you to reciprocate my feeling. Tomorrow, I’m going to take you out to the nicest place ever and we’re gonna get an amazing view with exquisite food! Just you wait” He rambled on about what he had planned. You sat with him and listened on and on.

Shikanoin Heizou, was now yours.

. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── .

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #shikanoin heizou #heizou x you #heizou headcanons #heizou x gn reader #heizou my beloved #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines

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nickywhoisi · 2 years

Text

Happy halloween gang!

Woo! Finally we are here! Since uploading my train gem art that makes my soul buzz with excite, I've been super eager to show all of you how serious I am about this project! I've practically been aggravated! I am so mad at myself for procrastinating on uploading! Wow! Now there's this really stupid issue with my laptop keyboard going on the fritz, and I've learned it's a hardware issue. I have to send it in for a while to get it fixed and I don't know how much it'll cost. Really afraid of what this may mean for my houseboat plans, which are even more important! O~O I am a little bit freaky-out-y again. But I'm not doing any o' that before giving you all what you were waiting for, and shouldn't have been made to wait so long for either. Here is a compilation of synopses and chapter ideas, called episodes, that tell you all you'll need to know about Thomas and friends in my fancy new au, and what goes on in the daily life of the crystal beings on Sodor. Now off I disappear again to play my vidyagames BECAUSE I GOT A NEW ONE NOW HA HA HA, GONNA LOSE MYSELF IN LUIGI'S MANSION 3 YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH

Alot of these are-unfinished-as-i-still-havent-found-the-perfect-gemstone-for-each-engine-yet-but-i-will!-also-dont-mind-the-weird-dash-spaces-there-is-still-the-nonsense-going-on-with-my-keyboard-and-its-way-too-tiring-to-edit-rn-and-the-whole-thing-is-just-one-big-first-draft-so-its-all-gonna-look-wonky-i-have-to-go-clean-ok

Thomas - Kyanite 5.1 with a sparkle, always trying to prove his capability and uniqueness, tackling more things than he can actually handle, easily gets impatient (his plot arch is very similar to Phos during the beginning, except he actually likes the scholar job and he's good at it)

Lady - Gold unknown mohs level because she's made of flexible liquid gold material, the leader of the gems as she can literally extend her reach to support all of them and that kind of ability is respected as fuck

Toby - Dravite 7 Elizabeth - dark red gem Edward - undecided gem?

Henry - Verdelite 7.5, but he gets fused with another Gordon - Blue Diamond 10, has all of his usual pride and has to learn how to be more humble around everyone, but unlike Bortz, he does prove as more mature about certain matters all on his own, a more collected gordon James - Red Zircon 9.5, has remnants of Painite(black and red) marbling body, but pure red zircon in legs after the accident, has a fancy design on outer legs to be a show off to everyone Bertie - bright red gem Percy - undecided gem?

Bill and Ben - orange yellow gems Harold - white gem Duck - Duftite Emerald 7.8 mohs Diesel - Hematite Rose 6.5 Donald and Douglas - Almondine 7.2 Daisy - Despujolsite Boco - Duftite Alpha Mavis - something black and yellow Scotsman - dark green gem Oliver - GreenDemantoid 6.8 mohs Toad - dark grey gem Bulgy - red and yellow gem Derreck - dark green and yellow gem Rusty - Andesine or Zincite, is one of the gems on the winter cleanup crew, tasked with managing weather damage and cleaning off snow and ice Duncan - yellow gem Stepney - mustardy yellow gem

Proteus - Pale Yellow Spodumene 6.7 Duke - Amber Chalcedony 7 Skarloey - Unheated red orange Sapphire "HeatSaph" 6.3 Rheneas - Unheated red orange Sapphire "RedSaph" 6.3 Bertram - Brown Onyx 6.5 Smudger - Dark Green Natural Chrysoprase 6.6 "Freddy" - Moonstone 6.3 Falcon - Lapis Lazuli Stewart - Malachite Ferguson - Labradorite

{Episode ?, part 1, Kyanite is a useful gem}

Kyanite felt cross today, watching everyone pass by. How glorious they all seemed, their colours, their cuts, their hardness levels...all of what they were seemed to be woefully lost on him. He was a little blue gem of a 5 mohs hardness, which meant for him that he was not a gem strong enough to go out into battle, or patrols, or do anything very special with all of his friends. He thought himself a pitiably average gemstone with no special qualities to make him stand out like the rest. Kyanite was cross, indeed. He looked upon his own kind with jealousy, wishing that he were only more like them. "Ohh, what a lamentable fate I have...! Being made a small five when I know I can do so much more! I am a great gem, I know this! Yet...whatever can I do to prove it?" he thought to himself. "Now what's all this I hear, Kyanite?" A proud voice called out to him. It was Red Zircon, one of the most splendid gemstones of the island. He was much stronger than Kyanite, and it was but one of the many things that he boasted about to anyone who would listen; Zircon was also a rare gem, even among the other rare gems. Kyanite turned to see Red Zircon, and was taken aback by how stunning he looked. But then, he always looked so stunning in the light; as a brilliant red gem with a unique mixture of black stone in his body - he didn't recall what kind it was - and a pure red pattern along his long, slender, perfect legs. Red Zircon was one of the best gems around for a number of reasons, and he bloody well knew it too. With a flip of his shimmering, feathered, red gemstone hair, he questioned Kyanite. "You? A great gem who can do so much more? Good to hear you're reaching for the stars above, but...that's going to be awfully hard to accomplish as such a small and pitiably frail little gem, now don't you think?" Red Zircon said to him with an equally playful and condescending tone, with an amused smirk to go with it.

Kyanite gave a stern look at him. He would not stand for such slander! He got up to meet him face to face...which was a bit of a challenge as Red Zircon was taller than him, on top of it. And Kyanite always felt so embarassed at looking an exemplary gemstone in the eyes; something about their glow was too blinding to him. This was something that personally ground Kyanite's gears as well; for a long time, he had always hoped that gems were capable of growing up to be tall and strong, as he did not like how small he was...but Pink Tourmaline had to tell him the bad news that he would be stuck at not only the strength and colour, but the height he was formed with for his whole life. Only their leader, Lady Gold, had the ability to change her height; though not often, it was but one of the incredible things she could do. Poor Kyanite found himself quite envious of these perfect gems, blessed with the things he could only long for, and so he used that spite to drive his message forward to Red Zircon. "Now l-listen here, Zircon! I didn't intend for you to be eavesdropping on me. And furthermore, you ought to be believing me instead of scoffing!" Zircon backed off a bit and said, "Oh ho ho! Oh, little Kyanite, there's no need for those sharp edges!" In our human vernacular, it would be like he was saying 'no need to show your fangs'. "I didn't mean to insult, you know that." Kyanite was thrown off momentarily at this shift. He was unsure, and still a bit miffed at him. "Oh no? You didn't...?" He replied, "Why, of course not. Wouldn't dream of it!" This left Kyan changing his mood a bit, wondering if maybe he was overreacting somehow? He brought his manners out instead. "Oh...um, well, okay..."

Red Zircon continued, "I've heard you go on and on for quite a while about your lamentable state, you know. All I was really doing was pointing out your - if you'll forgive me and I'm sure you will - glaringly obvious shortcomings, to remind you of what you're truly fighting against. That being...yourself." He finished his line with a dramatic, controlled, emphasizing pointing, right at Kyanite's round little nose. He got the hint right away, and was left to feel miffed all over again. "...O-oh. I see. And is that supposed to make me feel better over my situation, then?" He glumly questioned the taller gem, arms crossed. Zircon thought briefly and replied, "Um, I don't think so? I couldn't possibly imagine anyone who would be happy about their failings! Good grief, how bizarre would that be?" Kyanite's emotional state was worsening with each remark that came from Red Zircon, and he tried his best to hold back his snippiness...to a limited success. His arms were still crossed as he asked, "Well in that case...Zircon, don't suppose you could stop rubbing it in my face for a moment, and tell me if you know of any way I can overcome my...shortcomings, as you say?" Admittedly, Kyanite was embarrassed at himself for drawing blanks, plan-wise. As frustrated as he was, he genuinely did not know what to do, which is why he was seeking help in the first place. Zircon brought his finger to his cheek as he went into thinking of how to answer Kyanite. "Hmm...my my my, that's a tough question. I mean, where to begin? Perhaps at your cut? Your hardness along with that? Your drab colours? Your height? Your clothing style? Your attitude? Your overall mood? Your entire personality? Your--?" At hearing all of this...cruel opinion onslaught, Kyanite was very shocked and indignant. He did NOT like to get so raked in this way, and wanted no more of it! Quite desperately, he interrupted the other's comments. "Okay! Okay! Stop that, y-you...!!" Zircon secretly delighted in knowing how riled up he could make the smaller gem. Unfair, yet he thought it a fun game all the same, so he continued on. "Oh, my, yes...we'd have to have a complete overhaul of you. Each category is abysmally lacking, as you are now."

Kyanite absolutely hated this, as he looked at Red Zircon with such a struggled, strained and defeated expression. The poor little gem had had enough. What is this?! He wanted help, not to feel so personally attacked; and over everything he couldn't possibly know how to change! He wanted so badly to just snap his fingers, make Zircon go away, and make all of these problems get instantly fixed, like that. Now he went from royally pissed off to depressed, and definitely too insulted to even find the words to get back at the red gem. But that was finally, finally when Red Zircon noticed that perhaps he really was going too far, seeing little Kyanite almost ready to release tears. Red Zircon’s eyes went from lazy to widened, like that. He didn't actually want to do this to the other gem! He only thought it was a bit of cheeky banter and nothing serious...but the one he was chatting with reacted in a way that certainly indicated otherwise. Collecting himself from his self-induced shame, Red Zircon used his hand to gingerly bring Kyanite's face to see his, and very smoothly added, "...But, in the matters of cut and hardness, there may yet be hope for you. I know of a very simple solution to that!"

Kyanite lit up at that last sentence, seeing that Red Zircon was genuinely sorry for what he was doing and really was trying to be helpful. "...Ah! Yes?! What might that be?" "Oh ho ho ho! Why, silly little Kyanite, have you forgotten already? When you assisted me in getting back to the Shed after that nasty accident? I was fixed up with pure red zircon crystal so that I look better than ever before!" He made a little pose with his legs, for emphasis. “And I can move around at unmatchable speeds too! I can simply do it all now~!" But just before he went on a tangent about himself and all of his best qualities...Red Zircon caught himself and kept to the point. "And so that is the solution I see fit for you, Kyanite. Reconstructive surgery. You should figure out how to be rebuilt into a grander gem! Simple, isn't it~?"

Kyanite considered Red Zircon's idea, and slowly, it became very enticing indeed. "Why, yes...! Of course! Reconstructive surgery! Why didn't I think of that?!" Right in the midst of his pleasant imaginings, and the promise of his dream having a way to come true, Kyan had a sudden epiphany or two enter his mind that apparently put a new damper on the whole. He went from being greatly enthusiastic, to hesitant and doubtful. "...Aah, no, wait. You make it all sound so simple, yes, but...how do I go about this?" Red Zircon gave Kyanite an incredulous look. "Eh? What do you mean 'how do you go about this'?" Where was this coming from? Kyanite did his best to explain. "I mean, isn't there a whole process to it? Like...um...for instance, how do I find the right gemstone for me to be infused with? Hm? How do I achieve this when I am not sturdy enough to venture out on my own? And with all of those monsters out there..." "...Ah. Well...yes. That is true. You would need to find a..." Zircon was growing more wide-eyed as he was wrapped up in his own realization; Kyanite was right. "...Oh. And be durable already, now that I think on it. B-but surely that can still be done? There could be one out there just right for you, yes?"

Kyanite continued. "And, even if there is, even if I did manage it, what would I have to do then? Have myself shattered just to make [Mavis] and the others perform surgery on me?" "Well, I don't understand how you can focus so much on all the negatives, when I just gave you a solution to your problem! For goodness' sake! How can you not just be grateful?! And how can you not try it out and see, hm?!" "Zircon! Don't you think I've tried going on my own already?! It doesn't work! Or have you forgotten all of my repair trips?! Have you no care for how...hard this is for me?!" "Kyanite, I wasn't talking about...I-I haven't forgotten! Now didn't you want help, or not?!" "Mmm...! ...Well...yes, I did. But...you can think of these things because you're already protected by your hardness! You can already...do these things that I...can't." "...Oh. Wait, you mean...oh no. Oh no! Do you mean I'm making it worse by speaking so plainly?" Kyanite nodded, looking very glum indeed. Red Zircon realized that maybe he actually did forget how his plight affects the little one. Red Zircon didn't need to worry much as a 9.5 but had no perspective of what life as a brittle 5 is like. He just humbly said, "Oh, good grief...perhaps I didn't realize what this all means to you. I do sincerely apologize, Kyanite. I am not being as splendid as I should be, now am I?"

Kyanite thought that last remark Red Zircon gave was funny, in an endearing way. He smiled a little more at that, and showed the other that he was feeling a little better now. "Thank you. I'm sorry too. I just have a lot to consider as a five, is all. I don't want to have an...attitude. I just can't stand being so frail!" "Sakes. That does sound awful. ...In that case, I think what you need to do first is find someone who would take you to go find your gem part. I would simply love to go right now and help you, Kyanite, really! It would be lovely to repay you for your helping me back then, but I'm afraid it's almost noon! I will need to go patrolling soon with (Edward)! I just have no time to spare, you see." "Oh...really? Ugh, that's a shame. Who might I turn to, then?" "Not sure. Why not ask around? That's what I would do. My goodness, I am just full of good ideas today, aren't it~? I know~!" "Heh heh, yes, yes. Well thank you very much, anyway, Zircon! These are good ideas! And this could be it...! I'll get onto the search right away! See you!" "Good luck, little Kyanite! You'll need it out there~!"

#zomg my art!#tt #k #choo choo groop #tttei\#ttte #wri\#my writings #fanfic

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