darthstitch:

kaciart:

Lazy Day

He knows they’re not his.

Not really. 

Thorin was there when Dis birthed the boys.  He’d been the calm, steady one, when Nali was torn between worry and hope at Fili’s birth.  He’d been the one to stay strong when Dis had to endure Kili’s birthing bereft of her husband and beloved.  Sister-sons, they are his sister-sons and in their father’s absence, he must now step into the role, to raise them in honor and be worthy of their father’s blood and of the Line of Durin, which has equal claim.  

But sometimes, sometimes, he’ll see a Certain Look on Fili’s face that reminds him of Someone Else and he’ll tell himself instead that it is Frerin, he sees or Nali, both Dwarves who had golden hair and the fair coloring that went with it. He won’t think about dreams

(memories)

of auburn curls touched with gold in the sunlight and deep blue laughing eyes that promised both love and mischief. 

Sometimes he’ll look into Kili’s face and wonder why his eyes aren’t blue

(like they were before)

and then remember that Kili has Nali’s eyes, amber gold, not the dark blue eyes of his

(memories)

imagination.

There are days when he’ll hold both his nephews

(sons)

close, breathe in the sweet baby-scent of Kili and reach out for Fili who will never be too old for cuddles.  When Dis gets tired of herding two rambunctious Dwarflings for naptime, it will be Uncle Thorin

(Adad)

who will sort his boys out, gather them into his arms and off for bed.  There will be a story or a song or both, because, of course, Thorin is not proof against two pairs of puppy eyes. He will spoil them for as long as he can, because the days when he must be stern and hard, their King and Lord, will come soon enough. There is no need to hurry them.  They will be his heirs, the Line of Durin assured for the next generation. 

But for now, he’ll hold them both, his sister-sons

(my sons, mine)

and if Fili sleepily mumbles about his Adadith and if Kili winds a baby fist around one of Thorin’s braids, Thorin will not mind it at all, not one little bit.  Their presence alone helps him deal with the loneliness,

(where are you, beloved, I miss you so, when will I see you once more…)

the sense of eternally missing what was never there, something that may never be for him at all, not with the burdens and responsibilities he currently shouldered.      

Thorin will follow them into sleep soon enough, but for the moment, he has them both in his arms and he will happily guard their dreams.

- end -

Note:  I ficced, because there is no way in hell I can resist cuddling Durins! 

Note the Second:  Why yes, this should tie-in to my Blacksmith!Bagginshield Universe.  *cackles* 

*sideeyes you*

This was so freakin cute.

UGH

UGHHHHHH

Thank you ♥

youngcourageousheart:

kaciart:

Reprieve

When the two had been separated, fear had etched at the younger’s mind. It was the first time ever that they had been separated against will. Separated without either of them having a say in it. He had been so used to having the other at his side at all times, that he had not even held the other’s hand when they were upon those mountains; and when it happened, he had missed his brother’s hand, their fingertips barely grazing each other.  Kíli did not notice the fight of the Stone Giants. All he could do was peer worriedly at the spot where he knew his brother was, frozen in shock and the slightest hint of fear. It wasn’t until the rocks came down upon them that he finally was forced to look away and move. So that was what it felt like to have no-one at your side. It felt empty, terrifying too. Every second he wished his brother next to him, every second he looked around for them in worry.

And when the two were together again, he had merely grasped the other’s hand and stayed close to him, vowing never to let go again. He need not say any words, for his older brother understood without words.

AWWW!!!

This was so CUTE!

slightlypsychicparade:

kaciart:

Yep

I went there

It took less than a day for Jack to return to the lake. Watching people and not being able to talk to them was worse than being all alone, and he didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Occasionally a villager or two would come near. They’d fall very silent as soon as they saw the frozen waters and hurry past on their way to wherever.

It wasn’t until several weeks later that the girl appeared. She headed straight for his home, but stopped several paces away. There was something in her face then. Jack thought she might have twisted her ankle or hurt herself somehow because her face was awash with agony. After a few uncertain moments, she turned around and went back home. He’d followed her, both curious and worried for her health. Her stiff strides brought her quickly to a small home in the village where she shut the door behind her and almost immediately began to cry. Jack thought about going inside. The girl couldn’t see him, after all. But what comfort could he offer her?

She came back three days later. This time she managed to get close enough to touch the frozen surface of the lake before she burst into tears. She cried an awful lot, he’d learned. It was about the only thing he’d learned, idly following the girl off and on over the past few days. The other villagers spoke in hushed tones when she came near, and were always careful to be especially nice to her. She never smiled. It was driving Jack crazy.

He followed her back to the village that day, and when she wandered close to a group of other children, he threw the first snowball. It was a spectacular battle, and the joy of it was infectious. He’d caught the ghost of a smile grace the girl’s lips when she landed a snowball directly in the face of an older boy. For a while he’d thought her frown had been banished, but afterwards her somber demeanor had rapidly reasserted itself.

It became sort of a game for Jack, finding any way he could to taunt a grin from the morose child. His successes were few, but worthwhile. Every now and then she’d bring gifts to his lake. There didn’t seem to be any real pattern to her visits. Mostly she’d just pick up plants or small object that caught her attention and leave them on the ice. In the spring, when the snow melted away, she began to bring flowers and toss them into the water. She would stay and watch them sink then go home. Sometimes she cried, but that was becoming less frequent. Jack felt on some level that the gifts must be for him, but then he would remind himself that no one knew him, and that the lake wasn’t really his lake after all.

There was a day in mid-summer when another girl tripped in such a spectacular way that she managed to douse herself with the water she had been carrying. She’d actually burst out into a fit of laughter at that, but the next week she buried herself beneath the covers of her bed and refused to come out all day. Her parents had been annoyed, but they left her alone, saying little about why. No one seemed to want to talk about why she was so sad all the time. Jack had heard the word ‘brother’ whispered often enough to know who the gifts must be for, but he had never learned just how she became an only child.

Come winter her tears returned with renewed force. She once left gifts at the lake six days in a row, but eventually tired of it. A little under a year from the day he first saw her, the girl’s parents came with her to the lake. They sat together for hours huddled under a blanket, crying and holding each other close. Jack had felt more alone than on that night he’d awoken to a world that couldn’t hear or see him. It had been too uncomfortable to watch, so he flew away and distracted himself by tripping people on ice that hadn’t been under their feet moments before.

He wasn’t sure when the girl stopped leaving her presents. Sometimes he thought it might have been one day in the third summer, but then he’d think that it must have been the fifth spring because the winter before she’d left the most beautiful woven bracelet out on the ice. Whenever it was, there was a point that the gifts stopped coming. She smiled more often now, but there was still a delicate quiet about the girl. Every once in a blue moon she would burst into tears for no reason at all, but it was far more likely that she’d be laughing softly at some joke a friend had told.

There was nothing particularly special about that night at the end of November when Jack decided to leave. He was sitting on a roof, freezing someone’s window shut when it occurred to him that there was nothing keeping him rooted to the village. Certainly no one would miss him. Not even the sad little girl (who wasn’t so little anymore) needed him to make her smile anymore. So that was it.

Years later, when the pull of ‘home’ became irresistible he’d returned to find the crying girl with a crying baby in her arms. He’d made it snow for that baby, just as he did the day Jamie was born.

Makes you wonder if - when he regained his memories - would he realise VERY belatedly that he had been trailing his mourning sister.

This was really poignant and heartwrenching little piece. That not only had he saved her life, but in the aftermath of his death he continued to help unknown to either of them.

Ugh beautiful! Thank you for writing this!

scarvesandscrewdrivers:

He’s got alerts for this kind of thing, but he got around them. Of coursehewould. Sneaking undetected into MI6, specifically into the Q-branch main office is something many would attempt, but only 007 would tryand succeed.

Though it might also be due to Q’s distraction. Since 007’s communicator went silent, he’s been at less than his best, and going on 80 hours without sleep will do a number on anyone. He’s been searching, diving through every electronic recording device he can hack, hunting down the wayward agent, determined not to fail, not to lose someone he’s come to care about.

He puts the mug to his lips, a fresh cup of Earl Grey still hot enough to warm his hand even through the ceramic.He’s barely swallowed the gulp of tea when he hears the doors open and feels someone approaching quickly.

Q turns around and the cup slips from his hand, shattering on the tile as he invadesBond’s space. He thinks about hesitating but80 hours of stress and worry and Q justcan’t even consider waiting, asking.

Bond’s lips are chapped and Q can feel a small cut on the other man’s lips. His fingers play across the man’s face like they normally do across a keyboard. They find scars and another small cut and trace them gently, and Q is glad the damage appears to be minimal.

He doesn’t even register that Bond - James - is kissing him back until the older man pulls away. Q’s heart is in his throat in a second, but he tries to reassure himself because James’ hands are still settled on his elbows, holding him tight. 

“Q.”

“007.”

“Miss me?”

Q doesn’t get the chance to even have to answer.

Cute cute cuteeeee

This was adorable

calciseptine:

kaciart:

‘Can I shave your beard after??’

‘No.’

‘Oh c’mon, I promise it will be awesome, I’ll make you look like Tony Stark’

‘Who?’

‘………………oh god…PACK MOVIE MARATHON’

I have a couple deadlines for the end of the month, plus the Teen Wolf reverse bang and big bang, so what do I do? Procrastinate by writing other fic. I WILL PROBABLY NEVER CHANGE. :/

.

shorn
Teen Wolf || Derek/Stiles pre-slash

From kindergarten to the sixth grade, all of Stiles’ school pictures look the same: a gray background, a wide and overeager smile, and the same awful haircut.

There are some variations, of course. Stiles is missing two teeth in his first grade picture; in his fourth grade picture, he stuffed his favorite Pokémon t-shirt in his bag and changed out of his stiff sweater vest in the bathroom before the school secretary called for S thru U; and in his sixth grade picture, he popped the collar of the polo he was wearing and opened the top button to show off his puka shell necklace. Scott laughs himself sick whenever he cracks open Stiles’ old yearbooks.

“Dude,” he gasps between his uncontrollable hiccups of laughter. “Dude, look at your hair!”

Read More

Oh man this was really cute!!!

Loved the interactions and just everything was so well written. Alison was such a cutie and Stiles, babyyyyy!

fffff