#everdetermined

Henry hadn’t had a Father’s Day with his bio dad before. Henry was excited, even if he was still getting to know Neal and didn’t know exactly what his father would like. Neal seemed to like video games and pizza, but that might just be him going along with Henry’s interests. Still, what father didn’t want a card and some time with their kid?

“Happy Father’s Day Dad!” Henry said, smiling as soon as Neal walked into the room. Since it was Father’s Day weekend, Henry was spending it with Neal. He often went in between a lot of houses, but he didn’t mind. It meant he got time with everyone he cared about. “So, here’s what I was thinking. We play some PlayStation, grab lunch, play more video games, and then go to Granny’s for dinner. What do you think? Sounds good?”

Violet really did enjoy spending time with Nick. He was always such a pleasant change of pace after a long day at work. At this point, they saw each other almost everyday. At least, on those days when she had a minute to spare. Sometimes it was only during her lunchbreak, sometimes they actually had time for dinner and for them to stay at one or the other’s place. She actually had time to take a little vacation, and she’d insisted on them going somewhere, just for a few of days. And of course, she absolutely insisted on bringing his son as well.

Bae was already in bed and she was curled up on the couch and leaning against his side while they watched something on TV. But at some point, she looked up at Nick and smiled. “Hey... Nick?” she started, waiting until he looked down at her. “I love you.”

It had been a hell of a day. Between being ridiculed as they walked past the local watering hole - or in Rumple’s case, hobbling by - and not managing to sell all of the product he’d spun over the last week, he was feeling like something of a failure. It meant he hadn’t been able to buy as much food for the next few days as he would have liked, that firewood was in sparse supply. Of course, any food he’d bought would go on to Bae’s plate, and any scraps he could afford to have he would do. The blankets on his own bed would go on to Bae’s, perhaps they’d even huddle together for warmth.

It wouldn’t be the first time they’d had to do as such, but every time they had to do it, he hoped and wished desperately that it would be the last.

Still, as he sat by the small fire, brewing a pot of stew that he was crafting from the parts of the vegetables and meat that would otherwise be discarded, he knew that his son was sensing that something was wrong. He liked to treat the lad with respect, to talk to him almost like an adult so that he didn’t feel excluded from things. It did mean that as Bae asked him why he looked like he’d been crying - something he’d done briefly as Bae bathed in the little bath with a pot of water Rumple would use himself when he’d finished cooking for the lad - he was as honest as he felt he could afford to be.

He apologised that he wasn’t as able a Father as others were, unable to give him more than a simple stew for his supper. Bae, ever the light in his life had wrapped his little arms around him from behind, his cheek pressing to his Papa’s shoulder. “I don’t ever want another Papa. You’re mine. You’re the best Papa in the land.”

The sweet innocence in his voice, the sincerity of his words; it had another tear in Rumple’s eye, his hand softly resting on top of Bae’s little hands where they linked around his neck. “And you, my boy, are the best son in all the lands, and beyond.”

Also asked by @fairestmusesofthemall, holla

“Romantic?” Crowley grimaced as if he’d just tasted something unpleasant. Had it been any one other than Adam asking him he would’ve told them to fuck off with a question like that, but all things considered...

“To be honest, I’m not much for love ballads. Not a fan of the whole blubbering over how great some person supposedly is, and how in love they are with them, and how they don’t love them back and it’s just so sad...”    

He said it with the same mocking tone of a pouting child, waved it off as if it didn’t matter, but then seemed to get momentarily distracted by something in the distance...or his own thoughts. 

Soft footsteps echoed through the quiet hall. There was no hesitation as they approached the waiting skeleton - and why would there be? Chara wasn’t bothering to hide their familiarity with this whole situation. They’d been through this song and dance more times than Sans had been bothered to count. The attempts had blurred into one long streak of hits, misses, reloads, over and over again. And still the end was nowhere in sight. What the cycle had done, though, was give them a near-perfect sense of how the now-unchanging prelude would play out. Or, at least, how it should have played out - because, right before Sans was about to speak, they cut him off.

“No. Not this time. ”

Chara spoke slowly, deliberately, each word shaped with level precision. It felt odd to speak through a body like this, to hear their own words so clearly after a run of dust and silence. That slight, everpresent smile rested on their face, revealing nothing. It was only their body that betrayed any hint of something below the surface - the tension in their muscles, they way they rested on the balls of their feet, the careful grip on the knife held loosely at their side. There was still no reason to miss an opportunity if one came up, after all.

“Oh, I’d love to! But no more flying jellyfish. You want to help me design it?”

There had been chaos and screaming, but after tossing the two of them out of the plane with a ‘I got it under control!’, her parachute had opened and Emma had kept a tight hold of Chuck on their way down. And then there they were, landed. Safe and found. Emma laughed hysterically. “Oh, man. I cannot believe the parachute actually worked after all that mess. Talk about luck.” 

It had been a matter of life or death, and to save a baby from an actual monster Emma had been forced to use too much energy. When she had woken up from her usual coma, she had been told it had lasted three weeks, not just a couple of days. And then Tony had arrived, no doubt warned that her vitals had changed. She had a vague memory of hearing his voice right before passing out.