Emma of Asgard

Tony “Human Disaster” Stark

Audition, La La Land (via sunflowerchester)

He brushes back the curtain beside him, revealing the snow that catches the light of the room before it swirls back into the dark, and beckons Aidan to come stand by him. “I know she can seem… excessively enthusiastic about Christmas. And if you don’t wish to wear the holly this year, I’ll vouch for you. But it is important to her that she feel connected to the world she is from  – that was once her home. And earnestly celebrating the holidays she enjoys is one of the most profound ways we can help her achieve that.”

He joins his father and gazes beyond the curtain. “I know I am half human, but it all just seems so silly. Don’t we have better things to be worried about?”

“And yes,” he continues, and lifts the wreath from his son’s head with a small smirk – this time without replacing it. “Parts of its observation can be rather silly. And you can opt out of those you dislike. Since you didn’t choose her as a mother as I chose her as a wife,” he reasons, grinning slightly, “I would argue that she can’t really force you into ridiculous headwear as she has done me in the past.”

He ruffles his hair with a hand as the wreath is removed, and sighs. “I’m sorry, father. I don’t sound very cheerful right now, I know. Sometimes I just wonder, and today with the wreaths, and the mistletoe and Eimi’s teasing...it was a bit much. But, surely you must know, I would choose her as my mother any day, and I will bear her silly trinkets if I must just to see her smile. As she would say, that is what family is.” He snorts to himself and looks back out the window. “Even if I do occasionally imagine strangling my sister with one of the garlands.”

“What? What for? What did I do?”

She waves a beautiful leather journal, not unlike the one she had given him so many years ago between them, her lips finally giving way to a warm hearted grin. “You make it impossible to keep up with your generosity, my love. And once again, you have my thanks for it.”

A pause, and then his grin widens a bit. “…I’m glad you like it. I thought you could use another.”

She leans up to kiss his cheek, nuzzling the skin with her nose after. “Forgive your wife for nearly scaring you half to death. That’s hardly the spirit of the season, after all.”  Emma chuckles at his comment and nods. “I have been writing much as of late, and it comes at little surprise to me that you knew just what to give me. Though, I must say...” her face turns mockingly serious. “While you seemingly can’t obey my commands on gifts, I do expect you to abide by my wish for you to stay out of my study until otherwise informed. I would be most sad if you found my surprises.”

He brushes back the curtain beside him, revealing the snow that catches the light of the room before it swirls back into the dark, and beckons Aidan to come stand by him. “I know she can seem… excessively enthusiastic about Christmas. And if you don’t wish to wear the holly this year, I’ll vouch for you. But it is important to her that she feel connected to the world she is from  – that was once her home. And earnestly celebrating the holidays she enjoys is one of the most profound ways we can help her achieve that.”

He joins his father and gazes beyond the curtain. “I know I am half human, but it all just seems so silly. Don’t we have better things to be worried about?”

Going to listen to this while sitting next to the fire with hot coco!!! Check out this playlist on @8tracks: Frosted Window Panes by witchitaito.

“What? What for? What did I do?”

She waves a beautiful leather journal, not unlike the one she had given him so many years ago between them, her lips finally giving way to a warm hearted grin. “You make it impossible to keep up with your generosity, my love. And once again, you have my thanks for it.”

by James R. Eads

                        “I’m just… attending.”

There’s a gentle teasing note in her voice, and as Emma closes her eyes, she allows her relief and gratitude to wash over him. “I’ll heal in time my love, I hope you know that by now. My powers are…not always friendly as they grow, but I don’t want you to worry overly much.” The empath winces as a sudden pain shoots through her abdomen. “I do feel bad, though. I shouldn’t be keeping you from your people-and before you say I come first as your wife-let me reassure you that I know of my standing. Even so, it annoys me…makes me feel weak to be shaken by such things that I cannot control.” She manages a weak shrug. “Three days I have kept you here, and while I would not have you anywhere else, I do regret taking you away from those who need you, and so for that I will ask forgiveness.”

                “Compelling you against your will to endure my fussing,”         he adds, a slight grin cracking his otherwise grim features.

"Thank you, my love." Her eyes open and find him, her smile returning. She gives a good natured roll of her eyes and laughs. "Yes, well. I learned to tolerate such things long ago." Her eyes dance with mischief, and a hand reaches for his as another sharp pain travels up her rib cage. "I'll admit, I likely did this to myself. I've been training too hard lately, and I suppose it had to catch up to me sometime."

                        “I’m just… attending.”

There's a gentle teasing note in her voice, and as Emma closes her eyes, she allows her relief and gratitude to wash over him. "I'll heal in time my love, I hope you know that by now. My powers are...not always friendly as they grow, but I don't want you to worry overly much." The empath winces as a sudden pain shoots through her abdomen. "I do feel bad, though. I shouldn't be keeping you from your people-and before you say I come first as your wife-let me reassure you that I know of my standing. Even so, it annoys me...makes me feel weak to be shaken by such things that I cannot control." She manages a weak shrug. "Three days I have kept you here, and while I would not have you anywhere else, I do regret taking you away from those who need you, and so for that I will ask forgiveness."

Hello, December.

Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast (via larmoyante)