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sjsmith56 · 2 days ago

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Stopping Winter, Chapter 1 - Arrival

Summary: After returning the Infinity Stones, Steve Rogers has an epiphany about his return to the past, deciding to return earlier to prevent Bucky’s capture and transformation. To do that he has to help some other people first. His first stop, the Sanctum Santorum.

Length: 4.8 K

Characters: Steve Rogers, the Ancient One, Howard Stark, Jarvis, brief cameos by General Phillips, Peggy Carter, Dr. Erskine.

Warnings and other notes: Remember that you can’t change the past of the current timeline; once you do, you create a new one. Ripples have already changed this new timeline because of Steve’s early arrival. Hint: General Phillips (instead of Colonel). Inspired by the one shot The Plan from the collection of connected one shots From There to Here. This is my take on why Steve went to the past. The TVA is vaguely referred to but the Ancient One and Stephen Strange both indicate that what Steve Rogers does here may have been intended all along.

That was it, the last stone had been returned, Mjolnir returned to its proper time and Steve Rogers was ready to make his final and permanent stop in 1945, just after VJ Day. By his calculations that would be before Peggy met her husband, the man she supposedly married, although she never took his name. Then he stopped before pressing the control and thought for a moment, wondering if he had always returned to that year. It was after Bucky fell, after HYDRA took him back into their clutches, and he would be well into his indoctrination and torture.

"Shit," he muttered, realizing something. "What was that saying? Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."

It hit him that he had likely been playing a rigged game. If he kept going back after Bucky's fall, he was, at best, always going to be playing catchup. Even with all the information he had about SHIELD, HYDRA, and Bucky, he was getting into the game too late to make a difference. Perhaps, he hadn't been thinking big enough. Maybe there was someone he had to save first, before he could think of saving Bucky. The more he thought about it the more he realized the truth of it. He would have to go back to before June 22, 1943, the date he received his serum. A feeling of certainty filled him, and he knew this was the right decision. Resetting the control for June 14, 1943, New York City, he pressed it and felt his body transport between the two locations.

In a blink he was suddenly in New York, fortunately in a spot where he wouldn't be seen mysteriously appearing, plus it was early evening. Good thing he wore normal clothes under the suit, although they were normal for 2023, not 80 years earlier. Still, they were plain enough that he should be able to get from here to the Sanctum Sanctorum in Greenwich Village unhindered. Dr. Strange had told him that there would be a package for him there, with time appropriate clothing, new identification, and money. Everything after that was up to him as the sorcerers apparently wouldn't help much in any other way. Peeling his uniform off he rolled it up and carried it under his arm then began to run in the direction of Bleecker Street. When he arrived at the Sanctum he stood on the steps, looking up at the building, thinking that it hadn't changed much since the last time he spoke to Dr. Strange in 2023. Just as he raised his hand to ring the bell the door opened, and a sorcerer looked at him.

"Come with me," he said and waited for Steve to enter the building. "You're early but the Ancient One said that might happen. She wishes to speak with you before you leave."

"You know who I am?" asked Steve.

"Yes, you're the one who returns," said the man, as if it were obvious.

Steve followed him into a reception room and sat on a chair. He had never been in this part of the Sanctum before and had noticed that the parts he came through were different from the future. Just as it seemed he waited all night he was aware of a presence, and he turned around then stood up at the sight of the Ancient One.

"Hello Steven," she said in her slightly accented voice. "We weren't expecting you for two more years."

"I was ready to make the trip, but I thought of something that Dr. Strange said, about all the times I failed. It made me wonder if I've been playing a rigged game."

A slight smile appeared on her face. "That's an accurate conclusion. You realize by coming early you've changed the future of this timeline."

"Just like that?" he asked, confused.

She sat and motioned for him to sit. "Not quite, but your early arrival has sent ripples through the multiverse that weren't there before," she explained. "These ripples will have varying effects on the events of this timeline. A missed rendezvous, an event happening on a different date, things of that nature. What you remember from your timeline may or may not come to pass in this one in the same way."

"It felt so right to come now. Was I mistaken?"

"Can't say," she answered. "You're going to have to go with your gut on this one."

"My gut has been wrong before," he muttered.

"Yes, and it has also been right, especially in regard to your friend," she said kindly. "What you risked for him was the right thing to do."

"Then I left him behind to come back and try to stop it from ever happening." He rubbed his face, feeling frustrated.

"It's a noble goal," she stated. "But, as I said, you may have affected his timeline as well. You must be prepared to let some things go and focus on the bigger picture. It may still work out well for him, but it might be difficult at times."

"I'll do what I have to with regards to Bucky," said Steve firmly. "Everything else is secondary."

"Even Miss Carter?"

There was nothing he could say to that. Before he changed the time of his arrival re-connecting with her was his priority followed by rescuing Bucky. Then he reconsidered it and made his friend the priority. It was too late to change back now. He wondered if the Ancient One could read his mind because she nodded her head as if she understood.

"Is there anything else you need from us?" she asked. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flash drive, which surprised her. "This is new. What do you wish me to do with it?"

"Print off the contents so I can store them in my flat," he said. "You must have a way to do it. I couldn't exactly print them off in 2023 and carry them here with me."

"Very well," she answered. "It will take some time, but they will be in your flat soon. Shall I keep the drive safe for you?"

"Please," he asked then feeling like the visit was over he stood up. "Thank you for helping. I'm not letting HYDRA get away with it in this timeline."

"If it happened in the successful timeline then it happened," she smiled. "I was supposed to help you. Just be careful who you trust and be flexible."

With a nod she stood up and the door opened revealing the man who let him in. He was carrying a suitcase and had a small package in his hand.

"These are clothes to get you started," he said, without giving his name. "Identification, money, and the address of your flat as well as the keys."

He handed it all to Steve then the Ancient One handed that sorcerer the flash drive and requested he get the contents printed off and placed in Steven's flat. After that task was assigned, Steve was escorted to the door and he went out into the street, surprised to see it was still early in the evening. Based on how long he sat waiting for the Ancient One he assumed hours had passed. He still had time to get settled and go out tonight to the Stark Expo. But first he had to change his appearance a little.

Within a couple of hours he had changed the colour of his hair, using a henna product to make it darker. He also bought a pair of plain glasses, a hat, and another change of clothes. When he saw himself in the mirror of the bathroom in his flat, he hoped it would be enough. Then he hopped on the subway and headed over to the Stark Expo, waiting near where his old self would show up with Bucky. If they did it meant it was Bucky's last night before shipping off to England. Soon enough the pair arrived and met up with Connie and Bonnie. They watched Howard Stark's demonstration of his flying car fail, then older Steve watched his younger self go over to the recruitment centre at the Expo. When he saw Bucky and Steve say goodbye to each other he knew the timeline on that was true and he left, heading towards the Brooklyn Antique Store.

Avoiding the SSR lookouts he climbed up a fire escape to watch from the top of a building across the street and a few doors down. Having already seen Dr. Erskine at the Expo with younger Steve he was hoping that Peggy was here with the General, knowing that tomorrow they would be in Camp LeHigh assessing the recruits for Erskine's serum. For what seemed like hours he watched the storefront until his patience was rewarded and the General came out with Peggy Carter. He could even hear them arguing, smiling as he remembered the number of times he heard them disagree about many things.

"Why weren't Stark and the good doctor here this evening?" he asked her sternly. "You would think the top two scientists involved in this project would be here 24 hours a day protecting their research."

"You know why," said Peggy crisply. "Everything is ready to go. Now they need the right man. Stark is at his Expo showing off his latest inventions and Dr. Erskine is still searching for suitable candidates."

"He has them," replied the General. "I've found all the candidates I want; all of them good strong soldiers, who can take orders. The latest one, Hodge. I've got my money on him."

"He's a bully," spat Peggy. "I've looked at his record. He's just like all the others, muscle bound showoffs who wouldn't know how it felt to be on the receiving end of a beating."

"I don't want someone who would be on the receiving end of a beating," argued Phillips. "I want someone who can give that beating."

"Just like HYDRA then," she said. "You want the same thing they want." She put her hands up when he started to speak. "I know, you're going to tell me the only thing a bully is afraid of is a bigger bully. Where does it end, General?"

"With us winning the war, Agent Carter," he growled, as their car pulled up and one of the lookouts opened the door for them.

As they sped off Steve smiled at how she handled the General. She was so fearless, but she was always kind to him, even sharing things with him before the procedure. She never showed that type of kindness to the others. She even slugged Hodges and knocked him down when he was rude to her. It wasn't until Steve climbed down from that roof unseen and started to walk to his flat that he thought of something. Funny how he never noticed it before but then he wasn't the most confident person around women when he was pre-serum. She was just easier to talk to and seemed to overlook his blunders and stammering. By the time he got back home he was openly wondering when Peggy Carter actually fell in love with him.

The next morning, after one of the worst sleeps of his life he quickly dressed and headed out to where the bus for the serum candidates was. Peggy and Dr. Erskine were both going to be there, although they would travel in a car together to New Jersey. Once again he made his way to the rooftop of a nearby building, listening to the two talking as a sergeant checked in the candidates. Both of them seemed to be visibly disappointed at the big burly men that the General had recruited. Then young Steve arrived, barely managing his suitcase that contained more books than clothes. Older Steve grinned, thinking of how naïve he was then.

"Ah, Mr. Rogers," smiled Dr. Erskine. "May I present Agent Carter? She is very involved with the project."

"Ma'am," he said, trying to project himself as confident while feeling anything but.

She looked at the smaller man, without speaking but she did smile at him, then he checked in with the sergeant and boarded the bus.

"Are you sure about including him?" she asked Erskine. "He seems nice but he's at a big disadvantage with his size."

"With his health as well," said Erskine. "But he is a good man. I felt that from speaking with him. He's not looking for glory but for a place where he can make a difference."

"Well, if the serum works its magic, it will also prove it's not the physical size of the man that's important but the heart he brings with him," she said, turning slightly so she could see where young Steve was sitting. "You're right, though, there is something about him, something noble."

"Ah, you feel it as well," cackled Erskine, briefly. "I could see he is of interest to you."

"I don't know what you mean," she said briskly. "Well, we should get going. I believe Sergeant MacRae has checked everyone in."

"Ja, you're right," replied the scientist, opening the car door for her.

Leaning back, older Steve contemplated this first meeting between his younger self and Peggy. As much as it bothered him to admit he had to agree with Dr. Erskine. She was interested in him pre-serum, maybe because he was different from the other candidates and treated her with respect, or perhaps she felt sorry for him. Either way, it was something that would nag at him.

That evening he made a decision on how to proceed. His original plan called for him to see Dr. Erskine first and hope to find a way to get him to throw that Clemson or Kruger (his real name) fellow, who shot the doctor, out of the facility before he could take the fatal shot. As he thought about it during the day he came up with a different plan.

Late that evening he stood in front of the building where Howard Stark lived and took a breath, then began climbing up the outside of the building, never stopping until he reached the top and hopped onto the terrace, looking through the large windows. Keeping to the shadows he watched as Howard poured himself a drink and sat in front of a fireplace. His servant, Jarvis, if memory served, came in asking if there was anything else then he bowed slightly and left Howard on his own. Steve waited a little longer then opened the door to the terrace and stepped inside. With a start Howard jumped up and looked at him with disbelief on his face.

"Who are you?" he asked. "How did you get in here?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," said Steve. "We haven't met yet, but you will meet me in about a week when I'm chosen to be the recipient of Dr. Erskine's serum and your Vita-Ray radiation."

"That's top secret, and no one has been chosen yet," retorted Howard, as he moved towards his counter. "So, once again, who are you?"

Steve sighed. "My name is Steve Rogers, and I will be the one who becomes your super soldier. If you're looking to get a weapon, I can stop you faster than you can react. I come from a future time, and I need your help. There's a lot of different things that are going to happen on the day of the procedure, and I need people I can trust to make sure it doesn't happen the way it did for me."

Stark smirked. "You trust me? I find that hard to believe. Not many people do."

Steve stepped closer and gestured to the drink. "You have more of that?" Howard nodded and went to his bar pouring some into a glass, then putting it on the counter and stepping back. Steve picked it up and drank some of it. "Nice stuff. I didn't like you, Howard, and I know the feeling was or will be mutual once the process changes me. But I did respect you and I need that brain of yours to help pull this off."

"Since you're from the future I'm guessing everything works," said Howard. "But something tells me it comes at a cost."

"It does," said Steve. "HYDRA infiltrates the procedure, and they will kill Dr. Erskine. I have a plan that should save his life. But it's important that HYDRA believes he's dead, so you need to confirm that he is then get him out of there. I know you have more labs so you need to set him up in another lab so that he can duplicate the serum in secret."

"Why?"

"Because we need to save someone from being injected with HYDRA's serum," said Steve. "The best way of doing that is to give him my serum."

"You know that just by coming here you may have changed how this timeline goes?" said Howard, coming closer to the counter again. "You don't belong here and that interferes with how things are supposed to work. I'm not just a mechanical engineer."

Howard stopped at the other side of the counter, reaching below then coming up with a gun. Before he could do anything with it, Steve grabbed it out of his hand and crushed it, dropping the pieces onto the counter in front of the surprised billionaire.

"Really? I tell you I'm a super soldier and you try to get the drop on me?" Steve shook his head in disgust. Then he stopped and bowed his head before looking at Howard with anguish on his face. "If you don't help me then in December of 1991 my friend will be ordered by HYDRA to follow you and your wife, intercept your vehicle, and steal five pouches of the super soldier serum that took you 45 years to replicate. It takes you that long to duplicate Dr. Erskine's formula. My friend will be told to leave no witnesses. He'll do it because of the way they programmed him after they forced him to become a super soldier. He will have no choice but to obey but when he gets his right mind back it will torture his soul. Believe it or not I'm trying to save your life, Howard."

Steve drank the rest of his drink and put the glass back on the counter, watching Howard take in this additional information. A voice behind him startled both of them.

"I think you should help the man, sir," said Jarvis, who stood there with a gun, but lowered it. "But that's just my opinion."

"Alright, I lie and say that Erskine is dead, then set him up in a lab to make more serum," confirmed Howard. "Then what?"

"What do you know about prosthetic limbs?" asked Steve. "Not the kind with a hook, but one that looks and acts like an arm with a working hand. If you start working on it now do you think you could invent something?"

Howard opened his mouth then closed it and looked at Jarvis before looking back at Steve. "It's not my field of expertise," he admitted. "Why would you ask me?"

Steve sighed audibly then decided he had to come completely clean to convince Howard Stark to cooperate. "If I have changed this timeline then things might happen at different times from when they happened in my timeline. My friend may or may not need a new arm. I can tell you with certainty that HYDRA will have a fully functioning prosthetic arm and hand before 1950. It will be a monstrosity with one purpose, to be an instrument of death. He'll need a better one to live a normal life and you're the only guy I know with the genius to make one or maybe I was too hopeful."

"You think I'm a genius," smirked Howard, grinning at Jarvis. "He thinks I'm a genius. Well, I am a genius and I accept your challenge. Besides, if this war has shown anything it's that a lot of men are going to come home needing a new arm or leg. It could be very profitable for me. But I'll do it for you, Rogers, because I can see you're trying to save a friend and save me and my future wife in the process. What about HYDRA? If they're still around in the 1990s we obviously don't defeat them in this war."

"That's just it," said Steve. "We thought we did but they got sneaky, and they infiltrated the SSR, the military, the government and industry. They came that close to taking over completely but my friend, who they were using to do it, changed sides and I promised him when I came back here from 2023 that I would make sure they didn't take him this time. Without him, I don't know if they'll succeed with another PoW, but if we help him before they take him then we may have a fighting chance."

This time Howard Stark looked intently between Steve and Jarvis, then offered the super soldier his hand so they could shake hands on their agreement. He also offered him a place to stay, thinking he may want to stay out of the public eye.

"I already have a place, but I would rather have your help in another way," said Steve. "I want to be close to the action, especially once you go overseas. I'm sure a guy with your pull can help me in that regard. There are other people I need to find and try to prevent their deaths. Another thing, I have identification ... don't ask how I got it, but in this time my name is Steven Grant. You'll have to refer to me by that name."

Howard sized him up for a moment. "The serum that your friend kills me for ... is it successful?"

"Not exactly," said Steve after a long pause. "Your serum still works like Dr. Erskine said his would. It makes the good man great, but it makes the bad man worse. They give it to an elite death squad, all of them hardened killers. They're uncontrollable because all they want to do is kill and hurt anyone they come across. Even HYDRA realizes they're a threat and they knock them out, then put them into cryosleep, never using them again because they have no way to control them."

"And the Vita Rays?" he asked. "That was my contribution."

"No, HYDRA just injects it," replied Steve. "You and Dr. Erskine gave me multiple injections at the same time then turned on the radiation and it hurt, it hurt bad. But I had spent my whole life being sick, hurt, or near death so many times that it wasn't that hard to endure. It was basically my last chance at doing something worthy, so I withstood the pain. HYDRA gave the injections over a longer period of time, but it was just as painful for the man receiving it. He also underwent intensive torture and brainwashing during the treatment. Their version of the serum is different than yours so maybe it didn't need the radiation. Maybe the one you came up with didn't need it either." He gave out a frustrated breath. "I've already told you too much. How do I know I can trust you, Howard?"

"You don't but then I don't know if I can trust you, either," replied the billionaire. "Just seeing you crush that gun means you must be telling the truth about being a super soldier. Your friend, you said he was a good man, yet they were still able to turn him into a killer?"

Steve nodded. "Years of torture and brainwashing were needed but the serum kept repairing the brain damage they inflicted on him. Memories of his past kept him aware that he wasn't who they said he was. The guilt he feels for all that he did for them ...."

His voice trailed off as Howard studied him. If he was being honest, he still wasn't quite sure about the man's claims but Howard, as a ruthless entrepreneur had a lot of experience knowing bullshit when he heard it. This man wasn't bullshitting.

"You say that you know me, but you don't like me," said Howard. "Why is that?"

Steve sighed, not wanting to spell it out. His dislike of Howard Stark had originally been linked to the man's interest in Peggy but he had also helped Steve get behind the lines to rescue Bucky and the captured 107th soldiers. His work on weapons, bullet resistant uniforms and more had helped the Howling Commandos many times over.

"Truthfully, it was because of your interest in Peggy Carter," said Steve. "Your attitudes about women, around her, expecting her to fall for you. She tolerated you and if you think about it, you'll know I'm telling you the truth. But you also helped me rescue my friend and a lot of other soldiers behind the lines. You helped the unit we formed after that rescue, a unit that went after HYDRA in a big way. So, yes, I did dislike you initially, but I also respected your work and your drive. You did do the right thing often. Call it a poor Brooklyn kid's natural dislike for a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth."

Jarvis, still there, smirked, then made his face appear neutral when Howard looked at him with exasperation.

"Well, you're right about Carter, at least," said Howard. "I'm not used to women ignoring my overtures and she's ignored every one of them. Do you and her ...?"

"We danced around it," admitted Steve. "But I fell before we had our first date, deliberately crashed an aircraft full of bombs. They didn't find me for over 65 years."

"The serum kept you alive that long?" Howard whistled. "Is that how your friend survived?

"Something like that," replied Steve, not wanting to go into detail on how HYDRA did it.

"Why didn't you parachute from the plane before you ditched it?" asked Howard.

"Didn't have a parachute and I wanted to make sure it didn't land in a populated area," answered Steve. "Look, I really have told you too much and I can't tell you anymore, not at this point. I should go. You'll be around?"

Howard nodded. He knew his innate curiosity could push this Steve Rogers or Grant, whichever name he wanted to go by, too far. There was so much information this man had; information Howard could use to profit from. If he played along with this guy, he could monetize his obvious knowledge to Stark's advantage for a long, long time.

After saying goodnight to the two men, Steve took the elevator down to the main floor then ran back to the flat in Brooklyn. When he got there and unlocked the door, he was surprised to see several filing cabinets already in the living room, all locked. There was no key, but the sorcerers wouldn't have left them there unless he could access them.

"I wish I knew how to open you," he said out loud to the first cabinet.

A book suddenly appeared on the top of one the cabinets and he picked it up, noting it was titled Arabian Nights. Peeking out from the top was a bookmark, placed in the chapter of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. Reading the story, he smiled at how simple they had made it for him. Facing the first cabinet he said the words "open sesame" and the lock made a sound. Pulling the drawer open he saw the files, all in order. Closing the drawer, he said the words "close sesame" and heard a locking sound, confirmed when the drawer wouldn't open.

Placing the book on his nightstand Steve undressed and got under the covers of the bed, then turned off the light. He realized he was hungry and got up to check the icebox, finding some sandwiches already made. Sitting at the small table in his boxers he wolfed down three of them, washing them down with a bottle of milk. He was going to have to remember to eat. There was so much to do, so many things to keep on top of; it didn't seem so daunting when he first thought of returning. But now that he was here he realized that it was going to be a balancing act of sharing just enough information to get the help he needed. By his original timeline it would be four months before Bucky was taken by HYDRA the first time. He hoped beyond hope that his early arrival hadn't change that.

Chapter 2

Series Masterlist

Please reblog or comment if you enjoyed this chapter.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes alternate timeline #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers original female character #steven grant rogers #steve rogers alternate timeline #ww2 bucky barnes #ww2 steve rogers #change destiny #change the past

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alj4890 · 1 year ago

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Asked and Received

A Tobias Carrick/Open Heart one shot for Tobias Carrick Appreciation Week

Day 3: WWTD? Tobias buys an old lantern at an antique store. When he gets home and places it on his shelf, a genie appears and offers to grant him three wishes. How does he react? What does he ask for?

A/N going back to Book 2's canon and my HC for Tobias's family for this one. And of course, there's no doubt what or rather whom I HC for him will also be a part of this 😉

Masterlist

"Don't worry." Tobias readjusted his phone. "I'll be there."

His attempt to juggle multiple gift bags, his phone, and the Chinese takeout he'd bought all while trying to unlock his garage door did not end well.

His phone slipped out from between his ear and shoulder. He dropped the gift bags to try and catch it, thus causing all of them to dump out on the garage floor.

The only thing he managed to save was his dinner.

His younger brother's anxious voice could be heard buried beneath the bags.

"You okay?!" Phillip yelled out.

Carefully setting his takeout down, Tobias began to gather everything else up.

"Sorry about that." He told Phillip once he found his phone. "Dropped a few things."

"A few?" Phillip muttered in disbelief. "Sounded like your whole house crashed down around you."

"It wasn't my house." Tobias snorted. "Only the gifts I bought for Tabitha."

Phillip's daughter was turning five the following weekend. The Carrick's were gathering at the family home in Greenwich to celebrate as they did with everyone's birthday. Tobias even cleared his schedule for the week just so he could spend extra time with everyone.

He needed a break. After all the turmoil of Mass Kenmore losing its funding and the mad dash he'd recently done to save a young Edenbrook doctor, he knew he needed some time to decompress. The stress of the problems growing with possible shutdowns and layoffs had finally gotten to him.

Phillip chuckled. "You should see all that Jasmine has picked out for Tabitha. Between her and Mom, my girl is going to be the most spoiled five year old in the world."

Tobias grinned at the thought. His sister-in-law went through a lot to have her two children with Phillip. Jasmine had seen many fertility specialists and had multiple procedures for a slim chance at becoming pregnant. Tabitha was the first miracle for the couple. Spoiling the little girl became the norm in the family. It wasn't difficult to do given how sweet she was.

He was beyond the proud uncle of all his nieces and nephews. He made certain that their gifts revealed just how crazy he was about them and that he actually listened to all they told him. Tobias enjoyed spending time around Christmas and their birthdays to search for special presents that lined up with their interests.

This year, his niece was currently obsessed with the Disney movie, Aladdin. Phillip joked that it was because her mother's name was Jasmine which was why the little girl wanted to be that particular princess.

Tobias didn't care what the reason was. He only knew he had to find something special for her big day.

He spent the day at various toy stores around Boston, buying new dolls, puzzles, and games. Walking past an antique store, the idea to try and find her a real oil lamp struck. He went inside and as luck would have it, he found exactly what he'd hoped to find.

After dropping all his packages on the kitchen table, he took the lamp out of the box and set it on one of his couch cushions. He squatted down to see just how it would look to Tabitha.

The old brass lamp turned out better than he'd hoped. The engravings along the sides added more to the imagined mysticism one could pretend the lamp contained. He could easily see it sitting in some forgotten cave filled with treasures from long, long ago.

"Not bad." He said, running his thumb along the intricate engravings.

"Thank you." A voice said from within.

Tobias fell back with a gasp as silvery black smoke pooled out. It swirled around the room as sounds of thunder boomed and flashes of lightning penetrated the smothering darkness. Once it cleared, a man in a three piece suit was sitting next to the lamp.

"What in the actual hell was that?" Tobias breathed. "Who are you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The strange man replied. "I'm the Genie of the Lamp."

"Right." Tobias got to his feet. "And I'm the man who is about to force you out of his home."

The stranger clucked his tongue. "I wouldn't try that if I were you, Tobias."

Tobias cursed as he reached down to yank the intruder off his couch.

He went right through the man and hit the couch cushion.

"I told you that you shouldn't try to remove me." The genie chuckled over Tobias's fruitless attempts.

"This is a prank." Tobias said, looking around for one of his friends. "This is nothing but an image projected into my living room."

"No, I'm, as they say, the real deal." The genie got to his feet. "I can see though that you're a doubting man."

"You got that right." Tobias muttered while looking for what was causing this hallucination.

"I thought dressing like this would be less startling to a man like you."

With a snap of his fingers, the genie now looked like one from storybooks, complete with turban, a long pointy beard, and lack of a lower body. The shimmery black smoke swirled where his legs had once been.

Tobias rubbed his hands over his face in an attempt to get his vision clear of whatever the hell was going on in his living room.

When he lowered his hands, he saw the genie still waiting with his arms crossed.

"Is this better or can I look more like a man of today?" Genie gestured towards his body.

"Do whatever you want." Tobias gave up and sat down. "It isn't like I really have a say in the matter."

"I wouldn't say that." The genie snapped his fingers and was once again a man in a suit.

Straightening his tie, he smiled at Tobias.

"Now then, you are the lucky individual of three wishes."

"Yippee." Tobias grumbled. "So I can wish for you to get out?"

"My my, aren't we an unwelcoming host?" Genie responded.

"Forgive me for not wanting a weird has to be some drug induced hallucination I somehow was cursed with in my house." Tobias bit out.

"Do you do drugs?" Genie asked.

"No." Tobias said. "But I could have been slipped something in my coffee from earlier."

"True." The genie conceded. "But you weren't."

Tobias continued to glare at him.

"Make your wishes and I will leave, never to return again." The genie promised.

"Then I'll take this lamp back for another." Tobias added. "There's no way I'll let you near my niece."

The genie let out a boisterous laugh.

"Ah, Tobias. I won't appear before Tabitha. She doesn't need me."

"What?" Tobias muttered in disbelief.

"She's a happy child who has all her needs met." Genie explained. "I only appear to those who have a great need for my assistance in their lives."

He smirked while watching the doctor get irritated over hearing that he needed help with anything.

"And," the genie pointed out, "this lamp isn't my only home."

Tobias leaned forward. "Like I said before, what?!"

"All oil lamps belong to me." He continued. "How do you think I appear before people from all over the world?"

"I wouldn't even begin to guess what a character from a story does." Tobias told him.

"Where do you think all the stories came from?" Genie smiled at him with a hint of mischief. "You don't think someone like me could possibly be a work of fiction, do you?"

Tobias lowered his head in his hands. He knew he had two options. One, he could continue arguing with this thing or he could take advantage of what could be his good fortune and make some wishes.

Lifting his head he gave in to the latter. It would probably save his sanity in the long run to just let this scenario play out.

"About these wishes," he hesitated, "this isn't some Monkey Paw type wish is it?"

"Meaning something horrific must happen to get your wish?" The genie clarified.

Tobias nodded. "Is it?"

"Not at all. My wishes are free and clear of any ill intent." He leveled his dark eyes upon the doctor. "Unless your wish is one that is to harm another."

"Not my style." Tobias told him. "My wishes have nothing to do with hurting anyone."

"Excellent!" The genie rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Now then, let's discuss some possible wishes."

"Discuss?" Tobias smirked. "Am I not capable of making my own?"

"They will still be yours," Genie replied, "but I have never taken advantage of one's ignorance when it comes to making wishes."

"For instance?" Tobias prodded.

"For instance, if you told me your first wish was to be in the perfect profession then I would point out you are currently in the perfect one for someone like you." He explained. "No need to waste a wish on something you already have."

"I see." Tobias's brow furrowed in thought. "Hmm."

"Might I make a suggestion?" Genie prompted.

"Sure."

"You are currently worried about funding for your hospital. Correct?"

"Correct." Tobias answered.

"Then I can fix that!" Genie motioned towards him. "Simply say the words and--"

"Can you fix two hospitals?" Tobias interrupted.

"Two?"

"Mass Kenmore and Edenbrook are both going to be shut down if someone doesn't intervene." Tobias explained. "And the people of Boston would suffer because of it."

"I see." Genie shrugged. "That can all be easily taken care of."

"Then for my first wish, I wish that you would make Mass Kenmore and Edenbrook have the funding needed to remain open and functioning at their best."

Genie nodded in approval before snapping his fingers. Within seconds, Tobias phone rang.

His eyes widened to see Mass Kenmore's Chief of Medicine calling him.

"Hello?" He listened to the excited doctor explain that the Board had made a deal with Solomon Health.

"We're saved!" She exclaimed. "We won't be dependent on state funding again."

Tobias ended the call. He couldn't quite believe that his wish had come true.

"Who ended up helping Edenbrook?" He asked.

The genie snapped his fingers again and an image of a man Tobias knew appeared in a puff of smoke.

"That's Leland Bloom." He turned back to the genie. "What does a tech billionaire have to do with anything?"

"He'll end up buying the hospital and keep all the staff." The genie explained. "In fact, he's now talking to Edenbrook's Chief of Medicine and their Board right now."

"Wow." Tobias sat back in awe.

"I know." Genie winked at him. "I am that amazing."

Tobias began to laugh. Only he would be the one to find a genie with an ego similar to his own.

"Now then, what shall be your second wish?" The genie prompted.

"I'm not sure." Tobias told him. "Honestly, all I've thought about lately is Tabitha's birthday and the whole funding fiasco."

"Hmm." The genie began to stroke his beard while thinking of something Tobias might need or want.

"Could I wish for my family to remain healthy and happy?" Tobias asked.

"You could." The genie responded. "But I don't see a reason to do so. They all have what they need for that to happen."

"I still wish it. Just to be on the safe side."

"Very well." The genie snapped his fingers. "Done."

He then leaned forward, a mischievous glint back in his eyes. "Now let's make this final wish more interesting."

"Interesting?" Tobias cocked an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"Meaning something specifically for yourself." The genie explained. "You've already done your good deeds to those you care about and the city you reside in. Let's get something that will be only yours."

Tobias chuckled. "I can't think of anything I need."

The genie humphed. "I bet your mother would say differently."

"You don't mean--"

"Oh I do." The genie grinned with glee. "One of my favorite things to grant someone is the perfect mate."

"Hold on!" Tobias held his hands up. "I don't think I'm the marrying kind."

"You're wrong." Genie's smile grew larger. "You think that now, but there is someone out there made for you."

"Uh-huh." Tobias doubted that. "If you don't mind, I think I'll wish for something else."

"Such as?" The genie was quite curious what could be better than his own suggestion.

"How about a new challenge?" Tobias offered. "Something to push me on to succeeding."

The genie stroked his beard once more in thought. "A challenge, eh?"

He looked up at Tobias. "Say the words."

"I wish for a new challenge in my life, one that requires all my expertise to succeed."

An amused expression flooded the genie's face as he snapped his fingers to make it happen.

"So?" Tobias asked. "What's my challenge?"

"To win the heart of this woman." The genie waved his hand through the smoke until another familiar face appeared.

"Is that who I think it is?" Tobias gasped.

"It is." The genie responded, completely delighted to turn the wish into what he knew the man before him needed.

Tobias glared at him. "I thought I told you I wasn't the marrying kind."

"You will be once Chris gets a hold of you." The genie teased.

As he began dissolving into the silvery smoke he'd first appeared in, the genie spoke once more.

"Don't fight it, Tobias. Enjoy your life with those you love."

His dark eyes sparkled before disappearing.

"And that includes, Dr. Valentine." His voice echoed.

Tobias sat there staring at the empty spot on his sofa where the genie had been sitting. Still in disbelief over all that happened within the last few minutes, he reached over and picked up the lamp.

Giving it a slight shake, he chuckled to himself.

"Nice try, but there's no way Chris Valentine is meant for me."

He set the lamp down to begin wrapping Tabitha's presents.

A mystical voice spoke from the lamp causing him to stop mid step.

"Wanna bet?"

#tcaw #tobias carrick appreciation week #tobias carrick #tobias x chris #choices oh #choices open heart #choices the stories you play #open heart fanfic #choices fic writers creations

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hobbyspacer · 3 months ago

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Night sky highlights for April 2025

Check out the night sky this month, April 2025. Here are videos and links to websites highlighting the top sights to observe. ** What's Up: April 2025 Skywatching Tips from NASA - NASA JPL What are some skywatching highlights in April 2025? Following a planet-free morning sky in March, April brings planets back to your mornings, as well as the evening sky. Also look for Lyrid meteors, and hunt for the "faint fuzzy" wonder that is the distant and ancient city of stars known as globular cluster M3. 0:00 Intro 0:12 April planet viewing 1:13 Lyrid meteor shower 2:19 Globular cluster M3 4:26 April Moon phases Additional information about topics covered in this episode of What's Up, along with still images from the video, and the video transcript, are available at https://science.nasa.gov/skywatching/whats-up/.

The phases of the Moon for April 2025. Credits: NASA/JPL-Caltech ** What to see in the night sky: April 2025 - BBC Sky at Night Magazine The planets, the Moon and the Pleiades, plus this month's best deep-sky objects. Astronomers Pete Lawrence and Paul Abel reveal the best things to see in the night sky, April 2025. ** Sky & Telescope's Sky Tour Podcast - April 2025 - Sky & Telescope Youtube Our monthly Sky Tour #astronomy #podcast provides an informative and entertaining 10-minute guided tour of the nighttime sky. In April’s episode, we’ll watch bright planets come and go, track down some celestial carnivores, and enjoy a splash of mid-spring meteors. So grab your curiosity, and come along on this month’s Sky Tour. See also - Sky Tour Astronomy Podcast: Upcoming Celestial Events | Sky & Telescope - Interactive Sky Chart | Map Your Night Sky - Sky & Telescope - Astronomy Pictures: Sky & Telescope's Online Gallery Archives | Sky & Telescope ** What's in the Night Sky: April 2025 - National Space Centre What's in the Night Sky: March 2025 Lunar occultation of the Pleiades Sea of Tranquility Lyrids meteor shower ✨ Constellation of the Month: Lyra Whether you're a beginner or an expert, looking at the night sky with the naked eye, binoculars or a telescope, check out our tour of the night sky to find out what you can see this month. #WINS #Astronomy #WhatsInTheNightSky ** What's in the Sky this Month | April 2025 - High Point Scientific on Youtube In this episode of What's in the Sky this Month, Teagan reviews some of the beautiful celestial objects you can see in April! Read the full April 2025 Newsletter: https://www.highpointscientific.com/a... Looking to expand your astronomy knowledge even further? The Astronomy Hub is the place to learn everything from what’s in the sky this month, to what gear can help you capture the best celestial images. Learn more here ➡️ https://www.highpointscientific.com/a... Follow us on Instagram / highpointscientific Follow us on Facebook / highpointscientific Sign up for our email newsletter https://www.highpointscientific.com/c... #highpointscientific #astronomy #april Chapters 00:00 - Introduction 00:33 - The Whirlpool Galaxy 01:41 - Nearest Neighbors 02:49 - Lyrid Meteor Shower 03:38 - Mizar & Alcor 04:21 - The Leo Triplet 05:04 - Cor Caroli 05:31 - Conclusion ** Night Sky Notebook April 2025 - Peter Detterline ** See also: - April 2025 Sky Watch: Visible Planets, Bright Stars, Astronomy | Almanac.com - See A Pink Moon, Shooting Stars And Mars: April’s Night Sky | Forbes - April 2025 Night Sky Calendar | Voyageurs Conservancy - Top Astronomy Events in April 2025: What to See in the Night Sky | AstroTelescopium - 18 Fascinating Astronomy Events in the April Night Sky (2025) | SpaceTourismGuide.com - From a ‘pink moon’ to a meteor shower, here are the best night sky events to see this April | National Geographic - Night Sky Highlights - April 2025 | Royal Museums Greenwich === Amazon Ads === Celestron 70mm Travel Scope Portable Refractor Telescope Fully-Coated Glass Optics Ideal Telescope for Beginners BONUS Astronomy Software Package ---- Books --- Stellaris: People of the Stars Read the full article

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charlesandmartine · 8 months ago

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Monday 11th November 2024

It's moving on day again today, this time to the Barkly Homestead. Our route has now left the Stuart Highway, and we are heading East towards the coast, but these are small steps. But we are jumping ahead. Just before the junction of Stuart and Barkly is a remnant from the past, one of the eleven telegraph repeater stations. We had planned to visit this place today because it was on our route, so on the advice of the man in the tourist information centre, who said it was open everyday, we expected no impediments to this rudimentary plan. How wrong can one be? It transpired that the site would be open but not the buildings. But that's not a problem because our caravan site has a key said the reception lady. You can't leave the place open, it would be trashed, she said. Just sign here and place a deposit of $20 cash. Well, we don't have cash, we said. Sorry, no key then. So we had to go into town to the post office and draw cash. Then, back to the site and collect key. Go visit Repeater Station 10 km away, return key 10 km, collect twenty bucks, all done! Simple.

The Telegraph Line was completed in 1872, a remarkable feat considering Stuart had only surveyed the route ten years previously. Some 1800 miles in length, 36,000 poles and an awful lot of wire. The project was conceived and planned by Sir Charles Todd, who was by training a mathematician and astronomer working initially at the Greenwich Observatory, but needed telegraph to communicate between observatories. So he was inspired by the concept of linking Southern Australia to India and on to England. The repeater stations received a morse message, then it would be relayed to the next, and so on until it reached London. It would take in the region of 7 hours to send and receive a telegraph message in London from Australia, which made a huge improvement on the previous record of some three months on a package ship.

The buildings had long ago been stripped of any technology, but it was easy to imagine how they were used, from the kitchen and dining areas to the telegraph room, bedroom and storage areas. When the centre finally closed in the 1930s due to technology changes, and then sold in 1951, finding one room being used as a butchers shop! All very interesting and good to see the fruition to our Mr Stuart's endeavours and the works of the ingenious Sir Charles Todd.

Before finally leaving Tennant Creek, we ticked the last box in the Lonely Planet Guide and visited the oldest Catholic Church in the region. Built in 1937 and looking remarkably pretty despite its corrugated iron components and, more importantly, appeared like it was well used. Then, driving briefly back up the Stuart to the intersection with the Barkly Highway, we passed over the Tennant Creek, which gave its name to the town. It is still possible to see the old crossing over the Creek which is a reminder of what the old, unsealed pre-1943 road would have been like where traffic had to go virtually down to the level of the water to cross over. Very much like a ford at home.

Our journey to Barkly Homestead was just 212 km, so we had arrived by 3.30. The decision to stop here for a couple of nights was made out of necessity; it was too far in one journey to make it to our next location. However, there was no choice in the matter of location as this is the only accommodation along this route. A comly little place, home to tourists, tradies, and truckies alike. Very limited in the self-catering department, but we shall cope.

We have really enjoyed our time at Tennant Creek despite all the bad press it had from pretty much all those we spoke to. As a town, it clearly has its problems. There weren't that many people in the post office, but two of them had ASBO tags on their ankles. But a lot of investment has been made in this clean town: large outdoor swimming pool, new library, bowling club, hospital, mens and womens clinics. Let's hope things improve for these people.

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qnewsau · 9 months ago

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Equality Bill passes both Houses of NSW Parliament

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/equality-bill-passes-both-houses-of-nsw-parliament/

Equality Bill passes both Houses of NSW Parliament

Community groups have welcome the passage of Alex Greenwich’s Equality Bill which they say will change the lives of LGBTQIA+ people living in the state of NSW.

Equality Australia says new laws passed by the NSW Parliament this week will finally bring the state into line with the rest of the country.

The Equality Bill, formally known as the NSW Equality Legislation Amendment (LGBTIQA+) Bill 2023 was passed 15 votes to 12 in the Legislative Council, more than 12 months after it was first introduced to parliament.

It had already passed the Legislative Assembly earlier in the week.

“This is the largest package of LGBTIQ+ reforms in NSW history,” Equality Australia CEO Anna Brown said, following the vote by MLCs.

“These new laws will have no impact on the lives of most people in our state, but for a small number of people it will make their lives immeasurably better.

“For the people who have told their stories, the leaders who have listened and the politicians who have had the courage of their convictions, this is a watershed moment in our state’s history and a proud moment in their fight for equality.

“It’s a journey that continues as we turn our attention to the state’s anti-discrimination laws and our ongoing efforts to protect vulnerable teachers and students in religious and private schools across the state.”

Under the reforms trans and gender diverse people will no longer be required to have surgery before accessing ID that accurately reflects their gender, and non-binary will be an available sex descriptor.

NSW was the only jurisdiction in Australia to still have surgery as a requirement for transgender people in updating their official documents to reflect their gender.

“Legal gender recognition through a simple administrative process is life changing. The NSW Parliament has finally stood up for trans people simply by believing us,” said trans advocate Teddy Cook.

“Trans people of all genders have achieved one of the biggest reforms to improve our lives in decades.

“Updating a birth certificate to accurately reflect the women, men and non-binary people we are, without requiring sterilising surgery, will have a profoundly positive impact on trans lives, improving our health and safety, strengthening our participation and allowing us to simply get on with our lives.”

The bill also provides a pathway for children born out of overseas commercial surrogacy arrangements to have their parents recognised.

“This is a profound relief for the hundreds of loving and caring families who have been locked in a legal limbo,” said Ashley Scott, Executive Officer of Rainbow Families, in celebrating the win.

“Our children will now be equal before the law and have the same recognition, protection and access to rights as every other young person in NSW.”

ACON CEO Michael Woodhouse said the new laws promoted fairness and inclusion in NSW.

“We commend members of NSW Parliament who approved this bill and the many community advocates who have worked tirelessly over the years for equality,” Woodhouse said.

“There is more to be done, and we will continue our work to ensure sexuality and gender diverse people live with dignity and respect, free from stigma and discrimination.”

This includes continuing advocating for reforms to protect LGBTQIA+ students and staff in religious schools, which was left out of an amended version of the bill to secure the support of NSW Labor.

“These schools rely on millions of dollars of taxpayer funding every year and they should uphold the same non-discriminatory practices that state schools have abided by for decades,” Equality Australia’s Anna Brown said.

“People are genuinely shocked to discover a religious school can legally fire a woman for falling pregnant outside of marriage or expel a student because they are gay or trans.”

The NSW Law Reform Commission is currently considering this issue as part of a broad review of the state’s Anti-Discrimination Act which is expected to be finalised next year. 

Some other issues, including offences relating to street based sex work, were also removed from the bill.

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

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hibewriter · 1 year ago

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It's a vicious cycle, baby

Masterlist Read it on AO3

Shadow & Bone | Darklina | 4.8K | E

Tags: Step Siblings | fauxcest | P in V Sex

“So it was just a phone call?”

Alina sniffed, laying on the last piece of furniture in the lower Manhattan apartment. All the boxes had already been packed, the last strip of packaging tape laid merely an hour before she’d gotten the call. She stared at the ceiling, the small patches and primer covering up the holes she’d drilled to hang her string lights turning the room more foreign than before. Her head rang in the echo of the disinterested voice on the other line.

“Is this Alina Starkov? This is Tante calling on behalf of Black Heretic Property Holdings.”

The end of it all. Her four-year relationship was put on ice by her decision to move across the country in pursuit of law school. Her apartment was neatly packed with numbers blocked and a moving truck idling in the alley next to her. Genya sat next to her, holding her hand as if that was going to solve her newest dilemma.

“Unfortunately, we’ve sold 65 Mullner’s Lane apartment complex, and will no longer be able to lease Apartment C to you as the building is scheduled to be demolished.”

“Well, maybe you could stay?” Genya sounded far away, her voice traveling through water to reach Alina’s ears. “ In Manhattan I mean. Like David and I could make room.”

Stay. In Manhattan.

And do what? Withdraw from UCLA? Take a gap year after she’d already taken two years to be able to afford it on her own? She thought of David and Genya, already cramped in the junior “two”-bed in Greenwich. Thought of them trying once they got married next year. She sighed, flopping her head back on a corduroy pillow. She didn’t want to be practice parenthood.

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t. She had a truck full of all her belongings and a two-thousand-mile journey to start. “ I’m sure there’s an extended stay I could use. Maybe someone is leasing for immediate move-ins. ”

Genya frowns, her charm bracelet jingling as she pushed a hair from Alina’s face. “ I think…” She hedged, continuing the pets of her hair. “ Maybe it’s time you call your dad.”

“My dad ,” Alina repeats. Her voice shrinks in on itself, fingers already beginning to tangle together as she thinks of her father. Antonin Starkov. A man of many talents, mostly in marrying and divorcing the elite of the upper east side. Stealing their wealth for his own side business ventures as those around him grow ever more neglected and distant and cold .

All the radiators in New York could not make his condo feel like a home.

But who else could take care of her besides her father?

Antonin makes her stay with him for two months. Lets her sulk in her room alone for a full two weeks before barging in with a woman she’d never seen, a new spa set in hand, demanding she bathes and acts like a Starkov . She would’ve been offended if the cocoon of blankets purchased from West Elm hadn’t begun to smell thick and chips hadn’t fallen out when she stood. Forgotten and stale.

But she was a Starkov.

She couldn’t just sit and wallow on her bed while the world moved on. She had to get it together. Get a move on and be a person . Setbacks happened all the time. Boys break up with you, don’t think you’re worth moving over. Apartments get sold. And Starkovs still persist in shining. She’d just have to make a plan. She’d just have to grow up.

The woman, an aide named Inej, helps more than she’d be willing to admit. A strict checklist of items to do once they’d gotten it together.

Shower. Check .

Clean her space. Check .

Find a new place. Fuck .

She sits on freshly laundered sheets, staring at the blank browser of her laptop. Thinks of potential areas she’d stay, places that could offer her the modicum of reassurance that stepping outside her door wouldn’t get her killed. Not dead but close to the university. She’d seen a YouTube Lawyer speaking about staying close to campus to get the most out of law school. And it seemed smart, wasting less time on travel. But each listing seemed…wrong.

And that’s when she met Baghra.

(In all her years as his daughter – a full twenty-five, each year more difficult than the last – Antonin Starkov had exactly seven wives. The first three had been kind, if not too forgiving of Alina’s outbursts of want for her real mother. A figure that was long gone and buried. The fourth and fifth, both appearing and disappearing in the course of her high school years, had barely registered in her memory. Women who maybe made an appearance at the same time as Alina once a month, otherwise jet-setting across the globe with inheritance from their old money parents or running businesses from luxury skyrises with views of the entire planet out their windows. The sixth had lasted the longest. Entering her father’s life during her sophomore year of college, only to leave him and his money behind for a man who lived in the apartment below them by the middle of her senior year.

And now there was Baghra. Lucky number seven, as her father introduced her. Not exactly something Alina would’ve smiled at. But the woman neither smiled nor frowned. Instead, she took the opportunity to ignore Antonin’s jab, clasping Alina’s hand in hers.)

“You must be Alina,” her voice betrayed her false joy as she clasped Alina’s hands in hers. “ Antonin has spoken so much about you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to lie ,” Alina responded. “ I know he hasn’t.”

Baghra seemed to frown without frowning. Eyes crinkled with a soft downward tilt, lips tight as if in deep thought.

“Oh, you’d get along swimmingly with my daughter Ulla.”

“Does she live in California?”

She didn’t. But her son did.

Aleksander Morozov, a last name from a husband four times removed, lived in a small three-bedroom home off the edge of UCLA’s campus. A mere twenty-minute walk to the door of the UCLA School of Law. He had one car, a work-from-home job at one of the Silicon Valley tech start-ups, and a roommate who’d moved out to go live with his new husband.

The pictures Baghra sent her (a reluctant exchange of phone numbers – an act Alina hadn’t done with her father’s wives since number four had a case of doctoring messages), depicted nothing extreme. Curly trees and native plants, stucco walls, and terracotta shingles plucked straight from her late-night Pinterest boards. It’s nice, almost too nice, and fear of rent and expenses on top of school rise in her head and she wants to scream at the idea of asking her father (or worse, Baghra ) for assistance.

Aleksander’s number is sent to her in a rush, Baghra offering more false joy at the idea of their families blending . A new brother and roommate within a week.

Aleksander is thirty-four; nothing strange outside of the idea he lives so close to a college campus. He started renting the house during undergrad with his friend Ivan. Never left because he didn’t have to. He assures her via text that it would be no problem to take her in, that Baghra is always looking for her next project, and that Alina needn’t worry about the majority of the furniture she had sitting in storage. He’s been in tech since graduation, doesn’t tell her how much he makes a year, and pointedly lets her know the third bedroom is for his office. Rent is allegedly only nine-hundred dollars a month, and he already has the space cleaned out should she want it.

She’s on a flight to LA the next week.

He’s thirty-four, holds a job at home, and refuses to let her drive from LAX by herself. He arrives in a black coupe car, holds a sign written in neat block letters with her name on it, and packs her suitcase into his trunk before she can even offer to do so.

When they arrive at the house it’s exactly like the pictures. Curly trees and bushes thrive under the California sun as he shows her inside. Her room is directly next to the office and is the only room seemingly untouched by an interior designer. She is allowed to place any decorations in her room, as long as she doesn’t leave permanent marks, but Ivan had drilled wooden beams into the walls for a rustic feel and now you couldn’t tell. She wants to scream, finally across the country just days away from starting.

__________________________

The first week is nothing but restless nerves. Constant tossing and turning in a new bed with sheets laundered in an off-brand detergent that was cheaper than her normal scented one. Her decorations felt lackluster and droll, hitting the trash bin on the curb of Aleksander’s – their – street within two days. Her nights were filled with purchasing textbooks written by professors who would teach her, finding new decorations, and listening to the soft pacing of her new roommate – brother – as he worked on whatever kept him up at night.

Though she had to count herself lucky. When she had first arrived, Aleksander towered so tall she had to tap his shoulder just so he would see her amongst the crowd. When he said her name, she felt the honey-burnt rumble of his voice from her head to her toes, and an instant dread of a steady stream of girls who fell for charcoal eyes and a full beard filled her mind.

But, if anything, he was the one who insisted they give ample heads-up on all guests.

The only singular instance of unexpected guests (never a hookup or lackluster date) was an errant girl with dark hair who arrived in the thick of the night. Her incessant knocking was what woke Alina, asleep after attempting to watch reruns of The Good Wife and draped in a stolen blanket from Aleksander’s closet. She remembered feigning sleep, keeping her eyes closed tight as she attempted to ignore it. Only for the man of the hour to cross angrily to the door, yanking it open and speaking in hushed tones with venom-laced words.

“Who the fuck is that girl, Sasha?”

“Calm down Zo, she’s my sister.”

“Sister?! I’ve met Ulla, you prick, she looks nothing like her. “

“Saints, you act as if my mom’s never gotten remarried before.”

“Then why the fuck haven’t you called me back?”

The door slammed behind him as he exited to speak to her. Alina just barely fell back asleep when he walked back in, barely stirring at the small hand that brushed her hair behind her ear and the dip of the couch near her head.

“Mmphf Aleksss.” A vague mumble of words against his thigh, scooting closer to body heat.

“Shhh, go back to sleep, Alina.”

__________________________

When the semester starts, it’s almost as if they’re nothing to each other.

He’s already awake and working by the time she rises, the office door firmly closed with the muffled voices of whatever call he was on permeating through the wood. She showers, leaves with an apple and whatever leftover coffee he’d made sloshing in her Yeti tumbler from a convention long passed. Long classes drift by, only to be followed by hours studying her outline, attempting to be well prepared by the time midterms come around. All for her to arrive back home, worn and ragged, and stealing leftovers from the fridge while he continues to watch whatever history documentary he seemed fixated on that week.

Not to say every day was a perfect cohabitation of silence and drifting around each other. She’d yelled at him when he’d drank out of her favorite mug, leaving it soaking in the sink for a day and a half before she got so frustrated she washed it her damn self. She wanted nothing more than to smack him when he left a shirt (black, dry-fit like nearly everything he wore) in the middle of the living room after coming back from a run. Even with his “I was coming back for it later,” she still threw it at his head, pulling the carpet freshener and vacuum from their hidey-hole to clean the freshly soiled common area.

Not that she was flawless. She heard the muttered complaints from Aleksander on Saturday mornings when she played re-uploaded cuts of MTV music programs on YouTube while cleaning the kitchen. (It really was an excellent distraction from studying, when archaic words about property law blurred together and she needed to mentally remove her brain from the situation.) He’d also yelled, exactly once, when she’d forgotten to clean the long clumps of hair out of the drain. But stopped the second he raised his hand, clocking how her eyes widened and she made a tiny step back into her room. He sighed – defeat or simply resigning himself to a new normal, she’ll never know. Begging her to not do it again in a soft voice before escaping the confines of the house until well after she’d fallen asleep.

The couch became the neutral ground. Friday nights, after a week of pitter-pattering around each other and small arguments, she’s coaxed out with delivered Italian, the popping of a bottle of wine echoing through the entire house. He’ll hand her a plate, settling into the couch as he finds a movie.

It’s quiet mumbling, crawling to sit next to him on the couch. (Only to steal his blanket and leech some of the warmth from him – California was warm but its breezes left her thin skin frozen, her brother’s warmth the only comfort.) They’re quiet, but it’s not uncomfortable. As if they’d spent all their lives merely existing next to each other. The Princess Bride was a more permanent fixture in the home than most of the furniture.

__________________________

Their relationship didn’t shift until it did.

One day he was locked in his office, hidden away from her with the door locked. The next, she had her own chair in the room, her textbooks on his bookcase, and a nice lamp for her late-night study sessions. She found herself sitting next to him, listening to the soft clack of his fingers against his keyboard, the deep muttering of his voice on various calls. It was a soothing balm for her days, his body nearby as they attempted not to disrupt the other’s work. And when the day was over they could go their separate ways.

(If she stole a blanket from his bed and wrapped herself in his scent… well that was her business and hers alone.)

Midterms and finals pass in a flurry of coffee and dramatic tv reruns. A short flight home for the holidays, hotel fair split because neither particularly wanted to stay with their parents. Apparently still sickeningly in love (if that’s what you could call Baghra’s and Antonin’s relationship). Bundled sweaters and an extra thick weighted blanket Aleksander brought especially for her. “ Maybe you’ll stop putting those icicles you call feet on my lap, Alina.” (It does not stop her, though the sting is dulled by fluffy socks and a blanket that smothers all her bad thoughts into a peaceful slumber.)

The spring arrives before she can think, another set of midterms, another set of highlighters. Sleepless and hunger-filled nights were lessened only by her brother-roommate’s lights-out policy and Postmates' premium account.

But then, just as she thought she could relax, the trip came. It was a Friday he told her. She was wrapped in the blanket he’d brought her, a bowl of kettle corn on her lap (“ Because it’s healthy Sasha!” ), and the remote already queued to their movie of the night. He’d walked in, still typing away at his phone even though they’d agreed on no more work this weekend. So she huffed, rolling her eyes as he paced behind the couch rather than sitting on it. She reached, tugging on his shirt as he passed, hoping to get his attention so they can start the night like always.

“ Give me a second, baby I’ll be right there.”

Baby. It was an echo in her head, constantly coming up when she least expected it. He’d started calling her such after New Year’s Day, waking up on David and Genya’s couch in their party clothes, his arms a better blanket than any gift he could ever give. Even when she asked about it, nervous hedging on the plane back home, he merely shrugged. “You kept saying you were baby, so I guess that’s what you are.”

Still, his affection could not quel her need for her night to start. Comfort movies, blanket swaddling, and cuddles on the couch after trying to understand archaic nonsense of property law and endless contracts and double entendres. So she whined, petulant and youthful as she stretched toward him. And he stilled, hand coming to stroke her cheek with something like reverence.

“My, uh, my boss wants us all in the office for a yearly recap,” he muttered, eyebrows scrunching, concerned. “So I gotta head out next Wednesday for a couple of days.”

She’d call it strange how quickly her frown took shape on her face, the instant feeling of disappointment flowing through her. It wasn’t like she held him under lock and key, forced to share their tiny oasis all day every day. But it felt akin to the first time her father suggested sleeping without her teddy bear – devastating and somehow cruel.

She didn't mope the rest of the night, cuddled deep into her blanket far away from his embrace on the other side of the couch. She didn't. Even when he sighed, told her to "stop being a brat, baby. I'll be back before you know it."

__________________________

She's sure he thought it was true. But that Wednesday night felt too quiet, the echoes of her footsteps too loud against the hardwood floor. She tossed and turned all night, somehow cold in the California spring.

Thursday was impossible to concentrate, her lecture breezing through one ear and out the other. The words in her notebooks were a blur. It wasn't until seven, nearly dark, that she realized she'd forgotten breakfast and lunch. That's when she itched to call him demanding he come home early instead of Monday afternoon.

She settled for a text, a simple How was your day ? She didn't expect him to respond so soon, barely switching to her own Postmates app before the notification of his response appeared. Good. Did you eat today, baby? And it should have been embarrassing. I'm ordering Thai right now. My normal breakfast and lunch may have been missed.

Missing me already?

She sighed, thumbs down emoji sent quickly. They both knew it wasn't true.

Friday came with the ringing of a doorbell. Philz coffee and fruit in a brown paper bag left delicately on her porch side table. She would never admit, even under threat of torture, how much better her morning went. It was much easier, even grabbing lunch from the pizza place down the street with a girl from her class. But still, returning to the empty home felt hollow. She could only wrestle with herself for an hour, the time it took her to shower and prepare a chicken stir fry before she made the decision.

His door was closed, but not locked. His room was orderly in the way he tended to be. Bed made, clothes put away, vacuumed the Sunday before he left. Still, she drew her weighted blanket into the room, with her laptop queued to The Princess Bride, and found comfort in the warmth of his comforter. Falling asleep as she preferred to – Aleksander’s scent washing over her while soft voices echoed in the background.

Saturday she found a shirt, black as the rest of his wardrobe, hanging from his closet door. This time there was no hesitation to slip into his space, the shirt draped over her form as soon as she stepped out of the shower. It was almost like he was physically there as she cleaned the house, tidying the space exactly as she preferred. And at night she settled in, a comedy special playing on Netflix as she dozed off in his bed. She’d put everything back tomorrow, cleaning to the room’s original status without Aleksander ever knowing just how much she missed him.

She didn’t particularly get the chance. Not stirring during the sunrise, the opening and closing of the front door lost on her consciousness. No, she simply bundled deeper into the pillows and sheets, familiar footfalls falling on deaf ears. A soft sigh escaped her as arms wrap around her waist, a strong warmth clinging to her back.

“I guess you did miss me, baby,” murmured into her ear. She nods, a dream-like haze as he pulls her close.

“You came home early,” she mumbles. Clings to him like wet on lycra, inhaling as he crowds her close.

“Clearly I was needed,” his hands found her thighs, bare and silky under his shirt, tracing circles into her skin. “I needed to come home.”

He was right. She had no need to fight him. Lets him drag her leg over his hips. Relishes the feel of his beard against her shoulder as he buries his face in her neck. Cuddled like he needed to, pressed to each other. It’s his lips on her neck that cause her to gasp, a soft touch that lingers with each pass.

“Sa - Sasha – ”

“Baby, you have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of seeing you like this,” he murmured, soft and urgent. The begging left unsaid. But she did know. She knew for months, maybe since the day she moved in, that she’d want him. Always around. Always close. And there was no need to resist. Antonin and Baghra the furthest thing from her mind as she pushed against his head, only to drag his lips down to hers.

If she were patient she would’ve taken the time to look at him. Absorb that he was real and that she was real and she wasn’t dreaming that her step-brother’s tongue was partially down her throat. Even if she was dreaming she didn’t want to let go of the feeling. His hands spanned her ribs, fingers nearly touching as he began to press her into the bed.

He doesn’t waste much time. His hands roam, lifting his shirt on her body until he could feel all of it. Underwear gone since she crawled into bed the night before. His fingers found her slit, wet – nearly soaked – causing him to break their kiss, a groan on his lips. And she finally got to see him, the first time since he’d left Wednesday morning. His hair flopping softly, tussled from an early flight and her fingers carding through it. But his eyes, always dark and broody, were alight with desire. A flame shown within him as he looked down at her.

“ My wet, messy girl,” he whispered, something akin to awe in his voice as he leaned down. A kiss pressed to her collarbone, lips finding the skin not covered by the rucked-up shirt. She could do little else but whimper as he seemed to proceed on a one-man mission to map every inch of her skin with his lips. Each kiss was lower than the last, until he paused, directly over her mound before glancing back up at her, those eyes shining back at her. “ Tell me to stop, baby.”

She refused.

His mouth was like a spark, lips encompassing her as his tongue lapped at her, collecting wetness from her like honey from a jar. His tongue was heady, sliding through her folds and over her clit. She could feel his smirk as he was able to draw out a moan, her hands clinging to his hair. There was no use trying to look at something else, not when each lick brought a spark to flame inside her. She refused to hold her sounds, refused to think of the embarrassing oh, oh, ohs that flew from her mouth as he switched to sucking on her clit.

“Please, p-please,” she gasped, managing a spark of lucidity as he refused to relent his assault on her pleasure. Just as she thought she couldn’t hold anymore, he abruptly stuck two fingers inside. She was wet, wetter than she’d been in years , but still. The stretch was a smart burn that only faded as she got accustomed to the feel. Until his fingers pressed against something throwing her off a metaphorical cliff into an orgasm. He still only withdrew partially, keeping his fingers slowly moving inside her as he kissed his way back up her body.

Her own hands found purpose. Pushing and tugging at offending garments. His shirt, the sweats, all in the way of what she truly wanted��. Hadn’t she waited enough? Hadn’t she been good and patient and waited for him to come back? But he took her wrists in one hand, not hard enough to bruise but enough for her to whine as he pushed her arms above her head. He forced her to just feel his thumb, pressed deliciously against her clit, as his fingers sought that spot inside her again.

“Be good for me, Lina,” his breath was hot against her lips. “Be good, and I’ll give you what you want.” It shouldn’t have been that easy. A whisper for her to be good against the pressure of his hands against and in her. But her body clenched down, limbs seizing as the precipice of orgasm crashed through her in a rush. Her breath barely came in pants before his lips were on hers again, finally – finally – dragging the rest of his clothing off with as much efficiency as he could without leaving her side.

She will never admit, not to God or Satan or any of the Saints, that the first feel of his cock, dragging slowly over her clit as his lips moved against hers, was the best experience of her life. There was nothing shameful, nothing that could make her repent, for the sounds that escaped her lips. Swallowed by his tongue as he rocked his hips against her.

She wants to scream. She wanted to cry. So close to him, to what they both were wanting, and he was teasing . She squirmed, wiggling, pushing her hips against him. As if she could make him catch her against her cunt and slip in. But he chuckled, laughing at her desperation as he gripped her hips.

“Let me, baby,” he whispered, lining himself against her. “Wanna savor it.”

Then, the head of his cock notches inside her.

It stings. She’s wet, no virgin, and definitely not a prude, but he was more than two of his fingers could ever adequately prepare her for. It sends only a brief shock of hesitation in her, numbed as he slowly presses forward, withdrawing an inch only to feed it back into her. His hands return to her wrist, pushing her into the bed as he forces her to just take take take.

Each rock of his hips pushes him further inside, and each time she thinks she can’t take any more. He couldn’t possibly have more to give. But each thrust is another bit, another space carved out just for him until she feels so full she’s unsure she could breathe. His hips pressed deliciously against hers, a whine falling from her mouth as he withdraws and slams back in.

“Fuck,” he breathes, hips gaining speed as she loosens to the feel of him. “Fucking dream, been hard for months —”

She cries out, nails digging into her palms as she can only hold on with her thighs. The tension, the slight bite as his hand pressed into her wrists. She knows, before she can even find the ways to vocalize it, that she’s going to come. His free hand snakes behind them, pressing on her lower back to force her to arch into him.

“So fucking good,” he huffed, chest against hers, their bodies moving together. She doesn’t even think to close her eyes. Stares into the dark pools next to her, as she feels it coming. Tears prick her eyes, each downward stroke a new push towards that precipice. A stroke, a push, his lips on hers, and she falls apart.

He doesn’t stop, groaning at the feel of her around him. He releases her wrists, grasping at her hips to pull her against him. She has a feeling she’ll bruise, but she can’t bring herself to care. Not when his thrust grows sloppy, not when his lips find contact with any skin they can find. Her shoulder, her cheek, her neck. Both moaned loudly when his hips stilled against hers, his cock a plug to keep the warmth of his spend inside her.

They lay there, his body better than a million weighted blankets, arms wrapped around each other while they caught their breaths. For a moment she wonders if they’ll talk about it. If they’ll discuss the fact that they just fucked their step-sibling before either of them even bothered to get up for the day.

But they didn’t. He simply tugged her close, nuzzling into her skin as he softened.

“I missed you, too.”

#darklina

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thessalian · 1 year ago

Text

Thess vs Greenwich Market

So. Laundry's in the dryer cycle, the last batch of cookies is cooling (I just decided to bake, like, all of them), I used the kitchen time to boil some more potatoes for potato salad and those are also cooling, so now I'm going to take a minute to explain my Adventure from yesterday. And coincidentally also explain why my feet hurt so very much.

See, there's this place in Greenwich Market called The Fudge Patch. An old friend of mine who I mostly see on Facebook these days recommended it - apparently he goes fairly regularly and last month they had a deal on delivery fees, so I tried some and I loved it. Then I discovered that some of the flavours they have in store were not available on the website - specifically, coffee fudge. Which ... well, you guys know me well enough to know I just simply had to have. So I decided to look up how one might get to Greenwich from my little chunk of London. Turns out it's not that far - only takes a couple of buses. So I decided that if I was having a not-too-bad day Saturday and if the weather was decent, I would go and get this coffee fudge.

Yesterday, as far as I could tell when I woke up, was sunny and bright and I wasn't feeling too bad. So I thought, "Great! I will go to Greenwich Market". Even checked to see if there were any pharmacies in the vicinity so I could pick up the mallet meds I needed. There were, in fact, two. (This will come into play later.) So off I went on the bus.

Decided to do the pharmacies first, and discovered that neither of these two chain pharmacies had a pharmacy counter at those outlets. I mean, I guess it might have something to do with the fact that the place is very much for tourists - the National Maritime Museum and the Cutty Sark are both there. So I sighed a little, and decided to take a quick trip to local bookstore. Bought a Neil Gaiman short story anthology and a copy of Max Brooks' World War Z (far superior to the movie, as far as I've ever been able to tell), and then went to the market.

Greenwich Market is ... squished. Cramped. Lots of lovely things in a very small space. Which was not precisely easy for me to navigate, especially since I made the tactical error of entering via the food court and an awful lot of people were standing around eating while blocking the entrance into the main market. Then I had to hobble through very small aisles between stalls. I did look at some of the pretties, but not too closely because too many people. So I decided that, while the market proper would get a decent look on some other day when we're not at the start of a bank holiday weekend, I should just get my fudge and be on my way, preferably via a pharmacy.

The shop was also small, and a lot of it was devoted to the area where the fudge slabs were sliced and stored (and also probably packaged for delivery). There were a couple of people in ahead of me and the first thing I heard from the guy running the shop (mid-60s minimum, one of those wiry guys who gets tough and leathery-looking when they get older, long hair, receding hairline, big beard, very engaging grin) was, "No, seriously, take a sample! We are happy for you to taste everything!" and talking about how even if you don't want fudge right now, and leave without buying anything, he's happy to give samples because you might think of the place the next time you want fudge, or a gift for a fudge-lover on holidays, or when you're recommending a treat to a friend. Good way to do business, frankly. So I tried some of the lemon sherbet fudge he was offering (which was really good; I decided at that moment to go for a five-slab box again, and that to be one of the five) and told him that I was very specifically there because I'd ordered some for delivery but the flavour I was most interested in wasn't available online. He asked which one, and when I told him, he went, "Oh; we will definitely rectify that!" So I might be responsible for the coffee fudge hitting the delivery list. Huzzah!

Anyway, he practically insisted that I try a sample of the coffee fudge, since I'd come there especially for it, and in the process he noticed my pin badges. As I ordered my selection (coffee, lemon sherbet, raspberry sorbet, cinnamon swirl, and peanut butter), first he said, "Decisive person; knows what they want. I like it!" and noticed my pin badges - specifically the D&D themed ones. He said he didn't play but that he was peripherally interested in the whole thing and I told him that the fudge was at least partly gaming snacks. To my utter surprise, he asked what I was throwing at my players this weekend. No stranger has ever asked me anything that specific about my gaming before. So I told him and that was a thing.

That brought us to Warhammer, and sideways into books - apparently he's at the penultimate book of the Horus Heresy. Since we were recommending books and he was almost at the end of an apparently very long series, I made a recommendation of my own - the Locked Tomb. When trying to tell him what it was about, the best I could come up with that was short enough not to be too spoilery or involved was "necromancer lesbians in space". The young woman who was packaging up fudge looked up for the first time at that point, going, "Oooh!" and the guy slammed his fist on the counter in a very Thor-like kind of way (you know, the "I like this! ANOTHER!" thing) and said, "YES. Why has no one done this before? I need this!" So I wrote down the title of the first book for him; he can get the rest from there.

Last little bit of discussion was Patrick Rothfuss, who I told him I only knew from his time on Critical Role, and described the letter he wrote to Keyleth in-character a bit. And by then, my fudge was packaged and it was time for me to be on my way. But I think he sincerely hoped I'd be back sometime. Which was nice. Either way, one of the best shopping experiences I've had in a long time.

Then I had to find a bus stop to head in a home-ward direction. This took awhile, because that particular bit of Greenwich has a lot of one-way streets. Finally found it after a bit of a walk, during which I noticed that the sky was going from sunshine and blue to dark and grey. Well, fuck. Waited a bit for the bus, and didn't notice until I was basically on it that it was only going halfway to where I needed it to go. However, it was stopping at New Cross, so there might be a pharmacy there. Even if not, there's a big Sainsbury's, and the start of a bus route that takes me past at least two pharmacies and about a block closer to home than the one I would have taken if it'd stopped at Peckham like it was supposed to. Unfortunately, it let me off a fair distance from the big Sainsbury's, and there were no pharmacies. Woe.

Stopped at the big Sainsbury's, picked up some vegetables and treated myself to a can of root beer, and waited for the bus. That's when it started to rain. "Fuck", was my only real comment to that. There is nothing more annoying than standing at the start of the route, weighed down with shopping, watching the bus driver fuck around, and knowing you can't complain because they are entitled to breaks too. Honestly, I would have just been happy enough with a bench. But nope.

Anyway, bus finally got moving, got as far as Dulwich, got off near a pharmacy, picked up my mallet meds, back to the bus stop, ten minute wait for the next bus, and finally home - tired, sore, but triumphant.

...Then I started cooking dinner, which was roast chicken. I did really well, too. First I discovered that sage and lemon balm are a nice combination of herbs to stuff into the cavity; gives a really nice flavour to the meat, especially in combination with an onion and an entire bulb of garlic. Then I discovered that whatever I did to that chicken (might have been the slight oiling and salting of the skin before I put it in the oven, or maybe the herbs, or both), it resulted in the chicken being exceptionally juicy and tender. As in, when I went to carve off a leg for dinner, the thigh bone just kind of ... fell out. So ... that was good.

Boiled up the carcass, too - onion, garlic, herbs and all. May have boiled it too long, mind you. Or maybe not; what I have is a highly concentrated stock-jelly, of sorts. I figure I do what I would do with stock cubes or those little pots of jelly stock you can get at the grocery store - water it down and heat it, and stock will ensue. Which is good, because the leftover chicken breast is going to be risotto later.

But not today. Today I have done enough, and on top of what I did yesterday, I deserve more of a break. But that's why I have so many reheatables - on days when I have simply Ceased To Can, I can stick a thing in the microwave but still have home-cooked niceness.

So that was my Adventure. The lemon sherbet fudge is already gone, sad to say. But I still have more fudge, so that's nice. No major regrets for the Adventure, but man do I hurt, especially on top of the Adulting. I mean, hell, I mopped the kitchen floor today. Which would be more impressive if the kitchen weren't the approximate size of a postage stamp, but there we are. I have leftovers and fudge and cookies, plus still a lot of my proper American Sour Patch Kids, and I will have potato salad, and eventually some chicken katsu curry and risotto and chili and...

Look, if it's going to hurt no matter what I make myself to eat, I'm going to make sure the things I'm hurting myself to make are fucking worth it.

#Thess cooks #Thess is a motherfucking adult

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