I wasn’t going to post this yet, but I got hit pretty hard by emotional
family bullshit drama last night, and whenever that happens, I tend to
want to give people shiny things because it helps to be able to make
other people’s days better. It’s a nice alternative to stabbing the
deserving.
(someone asked about the full version of this, so here u go)
“Wait,” says Sam, “you had a publicist?”
“For my first five months at S.H.I.E.L.D,” says Steve. “Then she quit. Uh, decisively.”
“Well yeah, she had to keep you in line,” Bucky says with a half-smirk. “How many times did you make that poor lady want to sock you in the face?”
“Lost count,” Steve admits. “I did offer to let her, once. Seemed fair.”
Sam laughs. “I feel like you’re sitting on a story here.”
“There’s no story,” Steve tells him. Sam raises his eyebrows. Bucky’s half-smirk tilts towards a full smirk. “Seriously,” Steve repeats, “no story.”
Interlude: The Story of Steve “Walking PR Nightmare” Rogers, and How For a Short While He Single-Handedly Destroyed the Emotional Health of Eva Laura Ortiz, His Now Ex-Publicist
Another new chapter, woo! This one featuring probably my single favorite image I’ve written so far: Anakin Skywalker splashing his feet in the Pool of Serenity.
The delegation was followed by a guard. They were trusted more than many – Dwarves, no matter how distant, were accorded trust that Elves and Men rarely were – but it was a fool who allowed a stranger to walk unattended in his home. Someday, perhaps, an open show of arms would not be needed, but Erebor was newly retaken and they had to establish vets among the other kingdoms. They had spend too long as paupers on the road.
Dori moved to join them, fussing with the way his coat draped over his shoulders. He had spend some time in the Orocarni in his youth, and Thorin wanted someone who could understand what the delegation said privately, they had used Khuzdul often enough to speak freely while Nem were none the wiser. Why let others do the same to them?
He looked up, face dropping into the blandly pleasant customer service expression as he greeted them. He started a quick tally to make sure they were all there, but quickly stopped, color draining from his face. "Burel?“
“My mother,” one of the delegates answered curiously, her Westron well practiced.
As he looked longer, Dori did see the differences, especially the pale blue of her eyes. "Gerel?“ he breathed.
She stared at him a moment before her eyes flew wide. "Father?”
There's a Mirror on the Wall 