#Imperial Bag and Paper

[ahaura]

i saw someone point out the frequency with which liberals back social justice movements... how, for instance, when ferguson happened under obama it was not popular and there were many, many liberals who found the blm movement, in a sense, "in violation of [liberal] sensibilities" (when liberalism as a rule does not challenge the status quo, only maintains it and sees any call for revolution or real change as disruptive or 'bad for optics' and therefore not acceptable) but then when trump became president and he opposed blm a lot more liberals decided that the blm movement had merit because they viewed it from a team-sports perspective rather than a worldview based on morals and an understanding of the systems in place in the U.S. - that it was more comfortable for them to operate from a "trump bad" basis rather than "the american justice system and the police are inherently white supremacist, which are inherently, automatically, and always violent"

+ that, if trump was president while israel is carrying out its genocide, liberals would have NO problem denouncing israel and demanding for a ceasefire because they're comfortable operating from the 2-party system basis, NOT from a framework based on material conditions or factors or any acknowledgement or analysis of imperialism, colonialism, or capitalism. but because biden is a democrat, and democrats are supposed to be "the decent party" "the lesser evil" "more respectable" when, in functionality - in real practice, they don't want to disrupt the status quo. (internally, maintaining systems of white supremacy and capitalism; externally, furthering U.S. imperialism by maintaining hegemony and continuing the practice of exploitation and extraction of labor+capital+resources from the global south)

which is why we're here, a month into a genocide, and liberals are so cowardly and gutless that, in the face of our democrat president allowing and funding the genocide of palestinians in order for the U.S. to maintain its military base in the middle east, liberals IMMEDIATELY jump to "well, you HAVE to vote for him still, because trump will be worse!" and go "well im powerless there's nothing i can do", immediately folding like a wet paper bag in the face of the american empire rearing its ugly head in the most blatant, naked way in years, instead of thinking "this is unacceptable, i should pressure my elected officials and do everything i can - be it combating propaganda, contacting my congresspeople or senators, protesting, or engaging in direct action - to ensure this stops as quickly as possible".

there are liberals STILL IN MY NOTIFICATIONS who go "well you'll be electing a fascist if you vote for trump" not realizing that YOU CAN'T SIMPLY VOTE FASCISM AWAY. (which is not to say you should vote for republicans; that's not what i'm saying. none of us have said it.) we're pretty much already there. it's 2003 all over again, with the patriot act and all. the american war machine is pumping out racist, orientalist, pro-colonial, pro-genocide propaganda on behalf of the ethno-state america and its allies have backed since the so-called state's inception. people are being doxxed, fired, harassed, and attacked for visibly supporting palestine/opposing israel. islamophobic hate crimes are on the rise; a 6 year old boy was murdered not one month ago, an arab doctor in texas was stabbed to death. antisemitism is on the rise as well, thanks to the conflation of antisemitism with anti-zionism (which nazis have and will attempt to co-op in order to 'justify' + then act on their antisemitism, racism, and genocidal worldviews). our government is silencing people, brutalizing protestors, and arming and funding an ethno-state committing genocide - everything that would have been called fascist if it was under trump. but because it's a *democrat* liberals place "vote blue no matter who" and "optics" over the extremely basic moral stance that "genocide is wrong and people have the right to self-determination, autonomy, and life". arabs and muslims are already so dehumanized in the west that liberals (whether they consider themselves liberals or not) consider it an inconvenience to talk about the ongoing genocide that is happening with the blessing of OUR government. in this they expose their selfishness, the shallowness of their morals, their chauvinism, and their racism/orientalism/islamophobia/et cetera.

for example, if you see israeli troops waving a gay pride flag and the israeli state touting its support of gay people while said iof soldiers are murdering men, women, and children en masse every single day and you somehow????? think that because gay people are the ones doing the killing or a state claims to support gay people is doing the killing is ok then 1) you have fallen for pinkwashing propaganda and 2) that you find the murder of palestinians, or any people, permissible by a colonial force that uses causes liberals may genuinely care about in order to disguise, whitewash, or "lessen" the severity of the injustices it does unto usually black and brown people outside of the U.S., then you are just as bloodthirsty and depraved as anyone you would personally assign those descriptors of.

once again, it goes back to resorting to a team-sport understanding of the world rather than approaching it from a material one.

[rileyslibrary]

Invincible

Synopsis: Ghost has a fever but is too proud to admit it. You have your ways of convincing him to get some rest.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1,031

Notes:

It’s-a me, fluff!

I already wrote the conventional “reader gets sick; Ghost takes care of them” fic, so I wanted to explore the other way around, since I imagine Ghost becoming this giant baby when he’s sick.

To my American friends and whoever uses the Imperial system: 38°C = 100.4°F

Want more?

———————————————————————

He’s been shivering since this morning, but he’s doing his best to disguise it, just like that face of his.

Whenever someone walks into your shared office, he shuffles around, pretending to be busy so no one notices his trembling body. Even when he speaks, his voice is deep and steady, yet there’s a hint of strain in it.

He appears lethargic. He usually sits up straight in his chair, never missing an opportunity to lecture you for hunching over. But not today. His broad shoulders are slumping forward, making him appear timid and small.

You observe him from behind your computer screen, trying to figure out what’s wrong with him—he’s patting his forehead again. Despite his black balaclava, which conceals most of his face, you can see sweat stains forming on the fabric.

“You can’t take your temperature by touching your masked face with your gloved hand, Lt.”

“I’m not taking my temperature,” he responds, “I’m thinking.”

“You’re not fooling anyone,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “You have a fever.”

His eyes narrow as he looks up from his papers. “For the eleventh time today; it’s not fever,” he snaps. “It’s hay fever.”

“Hay fever?” You furrow your eyebrows. “Since when does hay fever causes you to shake like a jackhammer?”

He remains silent, but you can see him wrapping his arms around himself in an attempt to physically stop the shivering. You decide to push his buttons a bit.

“It’s okay to admit that you’re not feeling well,” you say, trying to sound sympathetic. “We all get sick every now and then.”

“Speak for yourself,” he murmurs, “I haven’t been sick since I was five.”

Well, he certainly behaves like a five-year-old now. You roll your eyes at his childish behaviour.

“Would you please let me have a look?” You ask, “I promise I won’t tell anyone,” and stand up before he gets the chance to refuse.

He throws his head back and slaps the armrests of his chair with his palms. He’s too tired to oppose you. He follows you with his gaze as you reach for a square red bag with an embossed, matching cross from the cupboard.

“Why do you need the first-aid kit?” He asks.

“There’s a thermometer inside.” You explain and turn the key to lock the office door.

“Why are you locking the door?”

“For privacy,” you reply and gesture for him to unbutton his shirt.

Stunned by your inaudible request, he stares at you and pulls his shirt collar up as if trying to confirm your thoughts. You nod.

“Nope, no,” he shakes his head, “I’m not doing that.”

“Be thankful I’m not asking you to pull down your trousers and bend over like the medic would do.” You snarl.

“I don’t mind bending over,” he admits, shrugging. You tilt your head in response, pick up the phone from his desk, and begin calling the medic’s extension number.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he says, shooting up and slapping your phone-holding hand.

“Why are you so afraid of him anyway?” You ask, referring to the medic.

“He’s a fucking butcher, that guy,” he mutters and then starts complaining about how his “methods” would make for excellent interrogation techniques. Yet it’s clear that he’s trying to divert your focus from what he really needs to be doing.

“Hey”, you snap your fingers at him, and he stops. “Take your shirt off right now.” You command.

He swallows hard and pauses briefly, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. You keep an eye on him, watching how his hands shake as he tries to undo each button.

Finally, he unbuttons the shirt all the way, showing a peek of his toned chest and abs. He removes one arm from his sleeve to give you easy access to his armpit.

He pauses once again. You imagine his face should be flushed with embarrassment by now. You sense his discomfort and quickly avert your eyes, focusing on the red bag you’re holding. You approach him and pull the thermometer from the first-aid kit.

“All right, arm up, please,” you murmur softly, holding the thermometer near his armpit. He raises his arm slowly as you slide the thermometer under it, pressing it against his skin.

You can feel his body heat radiating off him; he definitely has a fever. He gets goosebumps, and his whole body shivers as you hold the thermometer there. You brush your other hand across his shoulder, signalling for him to remain still.

“Okay, hold it there for a minute,” you say, watching the thermometer’s countdown tick down. Ghost nods, squeezing the thermometer beneath his arm while you both wait for it to beep.

Finally, the timer goes off, and you remove the thermometer from under his arm.

“38°C,” you declare, “you have a fever.”

He pulls his shirt back on and buttons it up, pushing your hands away from him. There’s exhaustion in his eyes, and he’s slumping even more now that his mortality has been exposed.

“I haven’t been sick in decades,” he mumbles as he buttons his shirt back up, “it’s impossible.”

You return the first-aid kit to its original location and go back to his desk, opening one of his drawers. You shuffle through, but he ignores you and continues his rant.

“I fought terrorists, I took down the Russian mafia, for Christ’s sake,” he recalls, “I saved hostages, I carried wounded soldiers through the desert, and I came back stronger than ever.”

You find his spare balaclava in the drawer—his current one must be replaced since it’s damp and could worsen his symptoms.

“Congratulations, Lt. Riley, on being invincible on the battlefield,” you say, “but even heroes need a day off sometimes.”

“I’m not a hero, love,” he sneers. “I’m just better at looking after myself than others.”

“You’re better at hiding your problems than others,” you correct him and hand him the spare balaclava. You put your hand on his shoulder and squeeze it.

“Now go to your room and rest.” You order him, “I’ll pick up the medicine you need and bring you some tea.”

“So you’re taking care of me now?”

“Least I could do for you.” You whisper and smile.

He looks up at you, his eyes getting smaller and smaller from the drowsiness. For once, he doesn’t have a snarky comeback or a witty retort.

You give him a warm smile before heading to the door. “Please take the rest of the day off, sir,” you say. “You can’t save us all if you don’t take care of yourself first.”

[poppitron360]

Guys… it’s finally here.

After almost three months of working on it, my largest fic ever is finally finished- currently clocking in at around 15k words!!

This is a collection of short stories about “Domestic life with Leo and Jason” and the beautiful things that come out of that- I give this as my gift to the Valgrace community as a reminder that happy endings can happen, just sometimes we have to create them ourselves.

CW: Swearing, brief talk of homophobia, a little bit of angst sprinkled in for good measure.

Word count: 15,580!!

“Violets and Marigolds”

Married Valgrace AU

Jason sat on the warehouse roof, watching the sun rise. His legs dangled off the side. He felt something brush gently against his ankle, and he saw the sole of Leo’s scuffed-up brown Doc Marten work-boot knock a little against his sneaker in the soft swing of Leo’s legs. The pale golden light of dawn glinted on the windows below them. Jason looked up and smiled at Leo.

Sure, insomnia’s a bitch. But Jason didn’t care when the man he loved was sitting next to him and smiling. He knew that he could get through the sleepless nights and he knew that dawn will always come after, no matter what. Whatever happens, the sun will rise. And Leo would be next to him.

They would always have each other.

Jason interlaced his fingers with Leo’s. It was a new day. He didn’t know what it would bring. But he knew he could count on seeing Leo’s face at the end of it, and the start of the next one.

Jason sat down in front of the interviewer.

“Jason Valdez.”

“That’s my name.”

She squinted at the paper and then studied him, “You don’t look like someone whose last name would be something like Valdez.”

Jason stifled a grumble. He hated when people pointed that out. Why couldn’t they keep their nose out of it?

“…Not that it’s any of your business,” Jason said, as calmly and respectfully as he could, “But I took my husband’s last name when I got married.” To emphasise his point, he casually put his hands on the desk in front of him so that his wedding ring was in full view. It was made of a special alloy of both imperial gold and celestial bronze, and carved with intricate designs. Jason loved to show it off.

The interviewer looked at Jason over the top of her thick-framed glasses, “Why?”

“Well…” Jason really didn’t like this woman, but he had to be professional. He decided blunt honesty was the best tactic to shut her up, “I didn’t have the best relationship with my mother. And I’d rather her name wasn’t a part of my identity. My husband, though, I love very much, and I want a piece of him to be with me. Now this job-��

“So, your husband…” The interviewer continued, “Is he any relation to Leo Valdez, the Greek demigod who launched a missile attack on New Rome?”

“You mean the Greek demigod that sacrificed his life to stop Gaea and save the world? Yes, that’s him,” Jason was getting properly annoyed. This was an interview for a job, not a dating profile. She didn’t need to know what went on in his private life.

“But he did launch the attack?”

“He. Was. Possessed.” Jason growled, “By an eidolon. Working for Gaea. He was not in control of his actions. Plus, that was fourteen years ago. Plus, some of Camp Jupiter’s top Praetors themselves saw to it that he was pardoned. His name is cleared, meaning my name is cleared. Now, can we talk about my credentials?”

“I didn’t get the job!” Jason said, dropping his bag by the door and throwing himself onto the couch.

“Oh no!” Leo said, looking up from where he was sitting, cross-legged on the carpet, a collection of sketches and blueprints spread out in front of him.

Jason waved his hand, dismissively, “It’s fine. I didn’t want it anyway. The interviewer gave me a bad vibe.” Jason didn’t mention that Leo’s name had come up in the interview- or that that was the reason why he hadn’t landed the job. It wasn’t Leo’s fault. They knew that living in New Rome might cause some problems, but it was the only decent place to find demigod work, and it wasn’t like Jason was gonna stop being married to Leo.

“How was your day?”

Leo turned back to the mess before him, and started shuffling papers around. “I got a few new commissions in,” He said, “A design for a carseat that massages you. Washing machines with legs. That kinda thing,” He turned back around, “Plus your standard swords, shields, the odd axe. Nothing new there. I’ll head down to the warehouse tomorrow and start working on those.”

“Don’t overwork yourself, amorsito.”

“I’ve had to take on a few extra stuff while you’ve been looking at jobs,” Leo said, “I’m the breadwinner in this household. We gotta pay bills somehow.”

As he talked, he began to fiddle with his hearing aid (He’d needed them ever since the explosion). Jason knew that he only did that when he was really agitated. He switched to ASL.

“Don’t play with that,” Jason signed.

“Sorry,” Leo signed back. He left the device alone and started fidgeting with his wedding ring- twisting it round and round, swapping it between fingers, spinning it on the table. Jason could tell something was wrong.

“What’s up?” He said in English.

“It’s nothing,” Leo replied.

“Querido…” Jason chided, “What is it?”

“It’s nothing… it’s-it’s silly, really. It’s not worth mentioning.”

Jason sat back on the sofa with his arms crossed, a patient expression on his face.

“Okay, fine! It’s just… something you said yesterday kinda… is still on my mind.”

Jason leaned forward, “What did I say, mi estrella?”

“You said… you know how we were talking about you getting a job? And how you wanted to make money to settle down for the future? Like- what did you mean by that, because it seemed like you meant…”

Leo trailed off, not making eye contact with Jason. He bounced his leg up and down so hard that the coffee table next to him was buzzing. He kept on passing his wedding ring between one hand and the other. He reached up to touch his ear again, but then he caught himself and quickly brought his hand down. He kept fidgeting with the ring.

“Do you… do you want kids, Jason?”

Jason was kind of taken aback by the bluntness of the question. He hadn’t meant to broach the whole subject of children to Leo. Not yet. But he’d been lying if he said the answer was anything other than yes, “Well… yeah, eventually. I mean, not right now, obviously, but someday. I’ve always imagined myself as a dad. And with Percy and Annabeth having their baby, and Nico and Will announcing that they’re Trying, it kinda got my head spinning a bit.”

Leo didn’t respond. His eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall in front of him. His leg was jiggling violently now.

“Why? Do you… not want kids?” Jason asked, a little scared to hear the answer.

“I don’t- I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never really seen myself as a dad. I’ve always thought I’d just have my machines. I guess… you don’t think the Roomba is enough, do you?”

Jason shook his head, “No, cariño… I don’t think a Roomba equates to having a child…”

“Why can’t we just be the cool gay uncles? Someone’s gotta do that now that Nico and Will are becoming parents.”

“We can do that, if you want,” Jason said, “But wouldn’t it be so cool to make our family bigger? I get it if you don’t want to bring a child into this world, but we could always adopt- don’t you want to give some poor kid a chance to have the home that you never got?”

There were ways for two male demigods to have biological kids- divine conception and all that. It took a lot of praying and sacrificing to the Gods, but if you were on their good side they’d allow it. That was the route Nico and Will had chosen. It wouldn’t be hard to get their approval- Hera definitely owed them one.

“But we’re demigods,” Leo said, “Life is dangerous for us. I don’t wanna put an innocent kid in harm’s way by inviting it into our lives.”

“I get that,” Jason said, “I really do. But we’re safe in New Rome. Lots of demigods raise families here.”

“I don’t know, Jason…”

“Okay. That’s fine. You don’t have to know everything right now.”

“But… but what if it turns out we want different things? What if I realise, years from now, that “actually no, I definitely don’t want kids” and you realise that “actually yeah, I really do” and then you divorce me for some girl named Tiffany, who has a really weird laugh like a cross between a hyena and a pig but she’s got this really fertile oven and she gives you triplets and I’m left to die alone, only talking to my machines and slowly going crazy? Huh, Jason? What then?”

Jason thought about that for a moment, “But that’s the thing- I don’t want to have kids with Tiffany. The only person I’d ever want to raise a child with is you, mi cielo. That’s who I want on my team. If you don’t want to, then I don’t want to either.”

“So… you’re not gonna leave me for Tiffany?”

“Listen to me, Leo, mi vida.” Jason grabbed Leo’s hand, and Leo’s leg stopped bouncing so much, “Tiffany’s not real. You made her up. And if she was, she sounds like a real bitch. No one compares to you.”

Leo nodded, “Thanks… I-I needed to hear that.”

“Come on,” Jason said, “I’m hungry. Let’s have dinner.”

“I’m cooking again? Man, I’m both the housewife and the breadwinner. What are you?”

The next few interviews were a bust. Eventually, Jason applied for a job as a Roman History professor at NRU.

He shifted in his seat as the interviewer scanned him up and down.

“Wow, I mean… you’re the Jason Grace!” She exclaimed.

“Jason Valdez, actually. I got married.”

“But still… You’re well known across all of New Rome. You slew the Trojan Sea-monster! You toppled the black throne of Kronos and slew the Titan Krios with your bare hands at fifteen! You played a pivotal role in the Second Giant War and helped to defeat Gaea! And again, fought to take down the Triumvirate. You’re an absolute legend!” She looked down at Jason’s resumé, “I don’t even need this. If you want the job, it’s yours.”

“I’d like to be given a fair chance, just like the rest.”

“Noble as ever,” She said, awestruck. She tapped the paper, “Well, this is still impeccable. Top grades at New Rome University. Praetor of the first legion. Pontifex Maximus. Twenty-four years of service in the Fifth Cohort. You’re fluent in Latin, Spanish, Ancient Greek, and American Sign Language. Glowing references from multiple gods. Yeah. You’re hired.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I mean, standard interview questions, yadda yadda yadda- why do you want the job?”

“Umm… well, I’d love to teach. I love being a role model, and supporting young people. And I love Roman History. My husband always jokes about me becoming a Professor.”

“Well you certainly are a role model,” The interviewer said, “Kids look up to you and the rest of the Seven from the Prophecy. You’re heroes to them. It would honestly be a privilege to have you as part of our faculty, and really help the students feel like they can achieve things.”

“That’s… that’s great to hear.”

The interviewer grinned, and stretched out her hand for Jason to shake, “Term starts in September. Welcome to the team.”

“Gah!”

The yelp woke Jason up. He stirred, and saw Leo sitting up in bed, hugging his arms to his chest, drenched in sweat and shivering.

“Leo…?” Jason grumbled. He sat up, and wrapped his arms around Leo’s shoulders. Leo drew in a shaky breath. “What is it?” He made sure to whisper it close to Leo’s good ear, since Leo had taken off his hearing aid before bed.

“N-Nothing… bad dream… go back to sleep.”

Jason moved his arms so that he was now gripping Leo’s shoulders, gently but firmly.

“Mi alma, you’re shaking.”

“…It’s cold.”

“You’re basically a human radiator, Leo. You don’t get cold,” Leo’s skin was hotter than usual, which was saying something. It felt like a toaster that had just been switched off.

Leo stopped digging his nails into his arms and held his hands out in front of him, as if making sure they were really there.

“Did you have another flashback?” Jason asked.

“I… I…”

“The night you died?”

Leo nodded, his breathing was still choked and choppy.

“It’s okay, Leo. You’re alive. You’re here. You’re safe. And I love you, mi vida, mi preciosa vida.”

“I’m… I’m alive,” Leo repeated. He looked again at his hands, studying the lines on his palms, “I’m alive.”

Jason moved again, this time hugging Leo’s middle, squeezing it tightly. Leo let out a sob.

Leo put a hand over his heart, like he needed to remind himself that it was still beating. He closed his eyes, and let out a long breath. He seemed to compose himself a little.

“It’s okay…” Jason whispered, although he wasn’t sure Leo could hear him without his hearing aid- he was completely deaf in his right ear, and had chronic tinnitus in his left, a small side-effect of blowing up.

Leo’s breathing was still irregular and shaky, but Jason could feel his heart slow, and his temperature cool down.

“Leo?” Jason asked, after a while.

“Hmm?”

“Is it me, or… are the night terrors… getting worse?”

Leo hesitated, then nodded. “It’s happening most nights, now. I can usually sleep through them, but…”

“Is it just that night, or…”

“No, mi sol. It’s other stuff. Trauma is trauma-ing.”

Jason unwrapped his arms from Leo’s waist and shuffled forwards, so they were sitting side-by-side, cross-legged on the bed.

“Talk to me, bello.”

Leo looked at Jason in that sad way Jason had come to know. It broke his heart a little every time he saw the pain in Leo’s eyes.

“It’s… it’s hard, mi estrella. My life did end that day. And while I’m so, so happy that I got it back… it’s hard to process what happened. That’s what I think the dreams are for- my brain trying to process it all. But… it’s hard. Because, for a moment, the blood lay still in my veins. My heart stopped beating. It’s hard to imagine busy old me lying dead, but…”

“You haven’t slowed down since then,” Jason observed, “And you never did before that. Your whole life- both of them- you’ve spent them constantly moving, never staying still. If you didn’t even stop in death, then when will you?”

Leo sighed, and fidgeted with the fabric of the bedsheets.

“I think your body is telling you it’s time to rest, amor mio,” Jason told him, “You’ve worked so hard. You deserve a break.”

Leo’s shoulders began to shake with another round of silent tears. He buried his face in Jason’s neck, and Jason wrapped his arms around his body. He had to admit, seeing Leo like this scared him. He was one of the strongest, bravest people he knew- to see him reduced to shaking tears, clawing at invisible scars, weeping, curled in Jason’s arms…

Some horrors in this cruel world were too much to handle. And Jason wasn’t sure how much help his comfort actually gave. He was helpless to fight those inner demons for Leo.

So much for “Respected Roman Warrior”, Jason thought, So much for all the medals, all those titles, all that honour.

The person he loved was sobbing into his chest, and Jason was powerless to stop it. All he could do was stroke Leo’s hair, and tell him everything would be alright. He should be doing more- fighting monsters, killing something- but some monsters you just can’t fight. All Jason could do was hold him.

“… Jason?” Leo whimpered, after a while.

“Yes, mi luna?”

“Are you… are you gonna leave me one day?”

Jason cupped Leo’s face in his strong, calloused hands, holding his everything out in front of him on the bed. He rolled forwards on his knees to kiss his forehead.

“I made a vow, remember?” He whispered, “I stood up in front of all our friends and family, in front of several gods and goddesses, and I promised to be yours forever. And you did the same. Do you remember that?”

Leo looked down so that his nose dug into the heel of Jason’s outstretched hands. “I remember. I know we did, but-”

“Hey! Hey- look at me-“ Jason tilted Leo’s head up, so his brown eyes sparkled in the low light of the street-lamps outside, “Have I ever broken a promise?”

“No…”

“There, then it’s settled. I vowed to love you ‘til I die, and I vowed to keep loving you beyond that. Come what may. And I am nothing if not a man of my word. And I know you are too.”

“I am,” Leo agreed, “I really do love you, Jason.”

“I love you too, amour mio.”

Leo still shivered from the fright of the nightmare. Jason held him close, until Leo eventually began to snore. Jason stayed awake, watching Leo breathe, watching his face twitch as he dreamt, his eyes moving under his lids. They stayed like that until the sun rose.

Another sleepless night- but they were still together at the end of it.

September came, and with it Jason’s first day at work.

Jason unlocked the door to his office and walked inside. It was a small rectangular room- nothing special. But the plaque on the front of his desk read Prof. J. Valdez, embossed in imperial gold lettering. Jason smiled at it.

He walked over to his computer monitor and sat down. He took out his briefcase, and began setting items down on the desk. It took him a while to arrange everything in a way that he wanted, but once he was done he stood back and admired his handiwork.

The framed photo of him and Leo on their wedding day, Leo blushing bright red when Jason had kissed him. The little trinkets Leo had made him over the years. A miniature Festus (deactivated). A Rubik’s cube that shuffled and solved itself periodically. Metal flowers in metal flower pots that actually bloomed whenever Jason walked into the room, and closed up when he left. More pictures of them and their friends. Jason and Leo with Piper hanging out at Camp Half-Blood. Double-dates with Nico and Will in New Rome. All of them with Percy and Annabeth’s new baby taken just after they’d brought her home from the hospital. Jason loved all these things. He loved that he could keep them on his desk, to remind everyone that came into his office that he was in love with Leo Valdez.

Just for good measure, he hung a few more photographs of Leo on the walls, and more little handmade creations on his shelves. He couldn’t help it- Leo always made him around seventy thousand little gadgets every Christmas, birthdays, and random Tuesdays. Their apartment was already filled to bursting with these affectionate little gifts. Did Jason really need fifty new forks? Not necessarily, but they were beautifully crafted and he loved them. His pockets were filled with Leo’s little gizmos, all lovingly made and thoughtfully designed. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

He got to his lecture hall early, and began setting up, plugging in his laptop and pulling up the powerpoint. He’d created a little “get to know me” slide that new teachers often made- complete with yet more pictures of Leo.

He sat down at his desk and sighed.

Jason studied the tattoo on his arm. SPQR stamped on the skin and twenty-four lines all beneath an eagle symbol. That was nothing new. But fresher ink glistened. Next to the eagle, in iridescent gold was a hammer. Surrounding the symbols, also in gold, were three thinly-drawn concentric circles. Other couples chose different designs, but Jason had wanted this one. The hammer, the symbol of Vulcan, showed his union with Leo, and the merging of their families. If they ever had kids, they would also have those symbols, as they would be a legacy of both Hephaestus and Jupiter. The rings around the symbols represented years of marriage. Leo had a similar tattoo- his hammer in the standard black and his eagle in gold encircled in a thick black ring before the thinner gold ones to show that he married into the legion. The tattoo, of course, had been Leo’s idea.

Students began to drip in.

“Is this Roman History with Professor Valdez?” A student asked.

Jason must have grinned a little too hard, because the kid looked a little freaked out.

“Yes. Yes it is.”

He couldn’t help it. It was one of his favourite things ever, to hear his new name. Sometimes, when he was alone, he’d just say it to himself, over and over “Jason Valdez, Jason Valdez, Jason Valdez, Jason Valdez.” Even after he’d been married to Leo for three years, he never got tired of it. And oh! To hear others say it too made him elated beyond description. That’s one of the reasons why he loved the idea of becoming a teacher. He’d get to be referred to as “Professor Valdez” every day. He’d never get used to it in the best way possible.

Once everyone had settled into their seats, he stood up.

“Hello, everybody! My name is Professor Valdez, and I will be your Roman History teacher for most of your time here.”

“LEONIDAS JAVIER VALDEZ!”

“Uh oh,” Leo muttered. “What is it, amorsito??” He called in a sing-song voice from the other room.

“DON’T YOU AMORSITO ME!! COME HERE!”

Jason knew Leo would be reluctant to move, “Are you sure, mi luna? Can’t you come out here and tell me?”

“COME. HERE.”

Jason heard groaning, and Leo appeared in the door.

“Jason Sebastian Valdez,” Leo said, leaning against the doorframe, trying to act as causal and innocent as possible, “What’s up, amor mio?”

“What the fuck is this???” Jason roared.

He gestured to the room. Every inch of every surface- the bed, the floor, the side tables, the windowsill, the top of the wardrobe- was covered with bits of machinery. Copper wiring, bronze plates, circuit boards, pipes, pistons, batteries, scrap metal, plywood, spanners, screwdrivers, discs, spheres, et cetera, et cetera, et-fucking-cetera.

“What's all this junk doing here?” Jason demanded.

“First of all, chiqui, not junk. Second, a certain, ummm… father-in-law of mine took out the power of my workshop in one of his tantrums. Didn't I tell you?"

"No. Why would he do that?"

"Well, a certain father-in-law of yours pissed him off."

Jason sighed and up at the ceiling, “What did he do this time?”

Leo shrugged. “I dunno. God stuff. And tu padre is taking it out on me!”

Jason tapped his foot in annoyance and surveyed the room, “Did you have to do this in the bedroom?”

Leo shrugged again.

“Leo, mi amor, you gotta tidy this- hey, are you listening?”

Leo had turned away.

“Did you just turn off your hearing aid? Are you kidding me?”

No response. Jason tapped Leo on the shoulder and switched to ASL.

“This needs to be tidied up.”

Leo closed his eyes. Jason stamped his feet in frustration. Leo grinned, his eyes still closed.

Jason grabbed Leo’s shirt and pulled him into a quick kiss. Then he put a hand on Leo’s shoulder, and furiously tapped out a message in morse code.

“TIDY. NOW.”

“Umm… No hablo ingles.” Leo said.

Jason tapped out the same message, this time in Spanish.

Leo groaned again, “Fiiiinee,” He grumbled, “You got me. I’ll do it.” He opened his eyes and switched his hearing aid back on.

“What are you building, anyway?”

Leo sighed, “Typical children of Dionysus, god of theatre, to want a door that only opens if you scream “Veronica! open the, open the door please!” with the rage of a thousand daddy issues.”

“…and you can make that?”

“Well, I’m worried they’ll kill me with drain cleaner if I don’t.”

Leo started to shift piles of materials. Jason started to head to the door, then paused and said, “I’m sorry I called your stuff junk. You’re right. It’s not junk.”

“S’okay, bello. I forgive you.”

Jason kissed him on the cheek, then left the room.

Jason booted up the powerpoint and froze. He had forgotten what was on that lesson plan. The name on the title slide hit him like a brick, almost knocking the air from his lungs.

He could do this. It was fine, he could do this.

He stood up in front of the lecture hall and cleared his throat.

“G-Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus. A powerful Roman Emperor, known more commonly as C-“ His voice cracked, “… as Cal-“ Jason gripped the edge of the desk, and tried to blink away the sting in his eyes. Flashbacks shot through his mind, but he pushed them away. He swallowed, “Caligula,” He choked out.

Jason could still feel the impression his gladius left in his palm as he gripped it. He could still remember Caligula’s snarl as Jason approached.

“You’re one of those Camp Jupiter brats, aren’t you?”

“I’m Jason Grace,” he said, “Former praetor of the Twelfth Legion. Son of Jupiter. Child of Rome. But I belong to both camps.”

“Good enough,” Caligula growled, advancing slowly towards him, “I’ll hold you responsible for Camp Jupiter’s treason tonight.”

Jason tried to pull himself back to the present.

“He reigned f-from 37AD to 41…” He gripped the desk harder, his knuckles turning white, and forced down the bile that was rising in his throat.

A blur of memories, flashes of swords and fighting.

He remembered parrying Caligula’s spear with his gladius, every move costing him more and more energy. His muscles were weakening. He’d expended so much energy controlling the winds and the lightning.- he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up the fight.

“Get out of here!” he called to his friends. “Go!”

“Umm… Professor Valdez?” A voice called, “Are you alright? You look-“

Jason’s ears were ringing. His vision was spinning. He blinked, and tried to bring the world into focus. His eyes fixed on something in the haze. A face, on a photograph. It was Leo’s face, in the home-screen of Jason’s laptop. A picture of them on a picnic date last fall. Jason took a deep breath and straightened up.

“Yeah… I’m- I’m fine,” he managed. He turned back to the projector screen, “Ca-Caligula’s empire stretched across-“ suddenly, he stumbled, and steadied himself on the desk. His head swam.

Pain shot up his left thigh. He glanced down, and saw an arrow sprouted from it. Jason grunted and stumbled. Piper yelled in warning as Caligula charged again. He just managed to roll aside. He remembered grabbing at the air, summoning Tempest with what strength he could spare. He rode against Caligula atop the ventus’ back, jousting sword versus spear. Another arrow took him in the upper arm.

He could feel the distinct acidic taste of vomit in his throat. “Ex- excuse me, class,” He blurted out, and rushed out of the hall.

“I told you this isn’t a game!” yelled Caligula. “You don’t walk away from me alive!”

Below, an explosion rocked the ship. The room was cloven further apart. Jason was bleeding from arrows in each limb now, yet raised his sword in defiance all the same. They circled one another on their horses in the cramped space, trading blows. Incitatus kicked at Tempest with his golden-shod front hooves. The ventus responded with bursts of electricity that scorched the stallion’s white flanks. The air was charged with electricity. He jabbed furiously at the Emperor, slashing like a Greek while Caligula stabbed like a Roman.

Through the fighting, he glimpsed Apollo across the room, standing dumbstruck next to Piper.

He managed to make it to the staff toilets and proceeded to dry-heave over the bowl. His pulse throbbed in his veins. His vision was a blur.

Jason had decided. Piper McLean would not die tonight. Apollo, Meg, all the others… they must live too. Keep fighting for what was right.

And then he thought about Leo.

As Caligula and he jousted around the ruins, knowing he was close to death, he thought about his best friend.

He thought about Leo putting his life before Jason’s to complete the prophecy- dying before Jason could stop him. He thought about the Oracle telling him his fate, and his one consolation being that he might re-unite with Leo in Elysium.

But Leo was alive. And Jason wouldn’t see him again.

He thought about that pointed face, those busy eyes, that sparkling smile. He thought about Leo, covered in scratches and scorch-marks. Tiny Leo, with his impish grin and his tooth gap and his excited bouncing. He thought about the Leo he had seen defeating a Primordial Goddess, that determination, the acceptance. He thought about the many hardships Leo had escaped, how he could face anything and pull through. As Jason fought, he thought about that brilliant, annoying, funny, tragic, genius, terrified, beautiful man- the many sides of him forming something wonderful. Something… human.

After growing up nothing but a soldier, meeting Leo had taught him for the first time how to be a person. Be human.

He met Apollo’s eyes across the ruined throne room.

“GO!” He yelled, “Remember!”

Remember what it’s like to be human.

These feelings replayed in Jason’s mind as he was brought back to that night. Everything he thought of in his final moments, before pain shot up from the middle of his chest, and everything went black.

He stayed there, hunched over the basin of the hollow throne, retching and blinking back tears. The memories began to dissipate, and Jason could think clearly again. Eventually, after much gagging, nothing came out. He flushed anyway, and sat back against the wall of the bathroom stall, breathing hard and shaking. With trembling fingers, he fished out his phone and dialled a number. It was demigod-safe… mostly. Leo had found a way to scramble the signal using modern VPN technology, but the longer you used it the more dangerous it got. It was for emergencies only.

The phone rang twice before Leo picked up.

“You’ve reached the line for the Greatest Husband in the Cosmos, how may I help you?”

“H-… H-help…” Jason repeated.

Leo’s tone instantly changed. “Jason? Jason, baby, what’s wrong? Mi vida, talk to me.”

“I… I need…”

Jason heard panicked clattering over the phone.

“Where are you? Stay there, I’ll find you. Are you at work? Are you safe? Jason, come on, say something.”

“I c-c-…. Ca-… I’m…” Jason swallowed, and listened to the sound of Leo on the other end of the phone, cursing in Spanish under his breath, the unmistakable sound of a frustrated ADHD demigod searching for his keys in a cluttered machine shop. It was a very familiar sound to Jason. He knew it well, and that calmed him. He took a deep breath, “I’m- I’m safe. I’m at New Rome University, I’ll meet you out front, l-lemme just…”

“I’ll be there in ten minuites, okay?” Leo said, “Don’t panic, I’m here. I’ve gotta hang up now, but I’m coming, don’t worry. Just… just hang in there, ‘til I can get to you. I’ll be there as quick as I can, you hear?”

“Y-yes. Okay.”

“Love you. See you in ten.”

“Love you.”

Jason watched Leo’s name blink off the screen. He took a few deep breaths, then unlocked the bathroom stall door.

He didn’t remember waking up on that California beach. He didn’t really remember much of the quest that followed.

The first thing that was clear in his mind was Leo’s face at that Santa Monica airport, grinning as he hopped off Festus’ back. He remembered rushing towards him, burying his face in that warm smell of motor oil and woodsmoke. He remembered laughing. He remembered smiling. Nothing else mattered in that moment. They were together at last.

But flashbacks and nightmares of that fight still haunted him.

On his way out to the front entrance, Jason stopped by the reception area and arranged to have a sub cover his class for the rest of the day. Then he walked out, taking in the fresh air.

He watched as Leo’s massive modified vintage Ford pick-up truck pulled into the drop-off zone. The passenger-side door opened to show Leo at the wheel, his face knotted with concern. Jason hopped inside and shut the door, sighing with relief as the air con blasted his face from the dashboard.

Leo seemed to read the situation instantly. He didn’t ask Jason what had happened. He didn’t smother him with soothing words. He just slapped the steering wheel of the truck (which was twice the size of his torso) and said, “Right. Ice cream?”

They ate their ice cream in the back of Leo's pick-up, parked on temple hill, looking out over the city. Leo had a scoop of lemon sorbet in a pot (he couldn’t have ice cream in a cone- it would melt in his hands and drip down the side before he could finish it. He needed a pot to catch the drips). Jason had a strawberry double-cone with white chocolate sprinkles and a flake.

"So..." Leo began.

"Nope," Jason said, "Don't wanna talk about it. Tell me about your machines."

Leo suddenly brightened, "I got this commission in from a mysterious outsider. Those are always the best."

“Oh?” Jason said, turning his head to lick a drip off his ice cream cone.

“It was an order for delivery. The guy was weird. He was a demigod, but he didn’t seem Greek or Roman.”

Jason was dimly aware that children of gods from other pantheons existed, but he didn’t cross paths with them very often.

“Anyway, it’s posing some interesting challenges, working with different metals, using different styles of metalwork. I’m learning a lot.”

“Sounds fun. Tell me more.”

Leo went on about the new techniques he’d discovered, and how it’s been improving his skill. Jason listened. He loved hearing Leo info-dump about his interests. If anything, it took his mind off old emperor booties. He loved the way Leo’s voice changed, his words slurring with eagerness as they spilled out of his mouth, his hands moving animatedly as he talked, flapping when he got excited. He loved how his curly hair bounced as Leo rocked backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet enthusiastically.

Jason bit off the last of the ice cream at the top, leaving only plain waffle-cone left. He wanted to eat it, but gave it to Leo instead to have with his sorbet. They both knew that the cone was the best bit of the ice cream.

They kept talking until the sun went down and the sky became bright with stars. Jason rested his head on Leo’s shoulder and yawned.

“Come on, sleepyhead. Let’s drive you home,” Leo said, nudging him affectionately.

Jason nodded, drowsily.

The car ride home was in comfortable silence. Leo kept his eyes on the road, but snuck glances at Jason sitting sleepily in the passenger seat.

“Thank you,” Jason said, “For turning a shitty day into a wonderful one.”

Jason explained everything that had happened in the lesson, running out and almost throwing up in the bathroom.

Leo listened in patient silence, his gaze locked on the sprawling city streets in front of them

"I'm sorry, Leo..." Jason said, "I'm moaning about almost dying when you actually did die, it's not-"

"Hey. Whoa. No. This isn't a competition. I don't wanna make you feel like you can't talk to me because my pain and sadness is more painful and sad than yours. You're hurting, I help. That's the deal. That's what I vowed to do. And you do the same for me. No matter what that hurt is, we support each other, capiche?"

Jason nodded, "Capiche. You're right. I'm sorry."

“What are you sorry for, mi estrella?” Leo asked, calmly.

“I… I don’t know…” Jason admitted.

“Exactly,” Leo said. And the matter was settled.

They slipped back into sleepy, non-verbal company until they made it back to their apartment.

Leo kept a little stool next to the forges, which was known only as “Jason’s chair”. Jason often sat, watching Leo stoke the flames. He loved to sit there and see him turning over coals with his bare hands, or working away at his desk next to it. Sometimes Jason got out his laptop and wrote lesson plans while Leo worked. Sometimes Jason helped- if just to be a human spark plug. Sometimes he just sat and observed. They would talk, or sing songs, or just work in silence.

“What’re you working on?” Jason asked from his chair.

Leo rubbed the back of his neck, “I’ve just finished the commission by those Dionysus kids. Hope they like it.”

He picked up his drink and sniffed it, obviously checking for drain cleaner. “I’m now working on a self-playing harp to add ambiance to the temple of Apollo,” He glanced at Jason and smiled, “The one that you re-designed on temple hill.”

He turned back to his blueprint, muttering to himself. Jason watched as he drew long lines across the page with his craftsman’s ruler. Leo touched a button on his hearing aid, and turned up a dial on a small radio in front of him on his desk. He’d rigged up his hearing aid to connect to it via bluetooth, so that he could listen to music as he worked.

The doorbell rang, and Leo opened it. He was greeted with a knife to the throat. He grinned.

Jason sat perfectly still on his stool, watching as Leo poured over his notebooks, nodding his head slightly along with the music in his ears. In their silence, he could just about hear the tinny voice of the music coming from the device. It sounded like Taylor Swift. It probably was.

“How’s my favourite sister-in-law?”

“Your reflexes could be sharper,” Thalia said in response, then she lowered her knife and pulled him into a tight hug. When they broke apart, and she saw Jason standing there, she grabbed him and squeezed him so fiercely Jason thought she might crack a rib.

“Food is on the stove,” Leo announced, “Should be ready in about half an hour. If Piper hasn’t already helped herself to it all.”

“When did McLean get here?” Thalia asked.

“She stayed overnight to sleep off the jet-lag,” Jason explained, then he clapped his hands together, “But now we’re all here, should we do presents?”

Leo shook his head, “Nah, man. Food first. Keep ‘em waiting. That’s how my mom did it. I’ll go see to the kitchen, you guys talk or something. It’ll only be another twenty minutes or so, anyway.”

After a very hearty Christmas dinner cooked by the notoriously skilled Chef Leo, they got to work passing round presents.

Leo had organised them into four little piles, and they took turns opening one present each.

Except there was one slight problem-

Jason had about five million more presents than everyone else. All a variety of sizes and shapes, all wrapped in the same bronze (recyclable) wrapping paper.

Leo didn’t seem to think this was an issue (“I may have made you a few more presents than what we agreed was the limit! So what?”), but Thalia and Piper were exchanging glances, worried they’d have to sit there and watch while Jason unwrapped each one individually and was subjected to a long explanation by Leo as to every device’s multiple functions. To make things go a little faster, they agreed to let Jason unwrap five presents per round instead of the usual one.

Was Jason complaining about how thoughtful his husband was? Fuck no. He loved it. He was gonna put a lot of these in his office when he got back to school.

Leo was first in the circle. Thalia got him a collection of various hides from monsters she had slain. Most of them were still fresh. Leo immediately grabbed a notebook and wrote down some ideas for contraptions he could use them in.

Jason was next. Leo had made him: A picture frame that unlocked and opened up into a shaving mirror, one of those ballerina jewellery boxes with a dancing Festus (Jason didn’t wear jewellery), a large polaroid camera that videoed and printed out Leo’s scroll holograms (“scrollograms!”), a key ring embossed with the words “te amo”, and an airbed pump.

“I thought we could try camping!”

“Leo, do we own a tent?”

Leo glanced nervously at a box-shaped present at the bottom of Jason’s pile.

Piper was next. Jason got her tickets to see Chappell Roan for the three of them. She actually teared up and flung herself into his arms. Leo bounced up and down and flapped his hands, squealing excitedly.

Leo had gotten Thalia the same thing he did every year- a bottle of Texas Hot Sauce.

They went round the circle a few more times, until they had a large pile of gifts next to them.

Alongside his animal pelts, Leo received 50 drachmas towards his Eras Tour Fund, a collection of more notebooks, and The Tortured Poets Department on CD from Jason (“So you don’t have to keep streaming it while you work and attract monsters to the workshop.”). He got another 75 to the Eras Tour Fund from Piper, and various tools from his wishlist. She also got him what looked like a dog coat, but it was fifty times the size.

“It’s for Festus!” She explained, “In case he gets cold in the winter!”

Piper received a customised surfboard from Leo, complete with badass (totally safe) modifications. She also got a large set of different-sized hunting knives from Thalia.

Jason got several thousand more gifts from Leo, which took up most of the sofa and the coffee table. Piper got him one of those fluffy oversized “oodies” that were all the rage online. It was blue, with a large superman logo on the front. Jason argued that he didn’t need to be any warmer than he already was, sleeping next to Leo. Somehow he still found himself buried in it anyway, the hood pulled down over his eyes, just enough so he could see. Thalia got him a framed photo of the two of them when Jason was just a baby.

“Where… where did you find this?” He asked, looking at the photograph, stunned.

“I have my ways,” She remarked, nonchalantly.

Piper had got Thalia a new leather jacket.

“Another one?” Jason asked, “You’ve got loads!”

Thalia shrugged, “All my old ones got blood on them.”

Lastly, Jason handed his gift to Thalia. She opened up the small rectangular box, and pulled out a hunting dagger. She unsheathed it, and examined it. It was hammered a little out of shape, and the blade was warped.

“I’m assuming this wasn’t made by the OG Valdez?” She asked, glancing at her brother.

Jason looked a little sheepish. Leo rubbed his back, reassuringly. “Your metalwork’s getting better, chiqui. It’s good! You can’t help the fact that you’re married to one of the best and most advanced weaponsmiths in the Greco-Roman pantheon. But it’s good work.”

Thalia gave him a sisterly kiss on the cheek. “I love it. Thank you.”

Jason gave her a tight, one-armed hug.

“I actually have something else for you,” Thalia said to him.

“Oh?”

“It’s not a gift, exactly just… news.”

“Good news?” Leo asked.

Thalia neither confirmed nor denied this, just said: “I got a call from someone a couple weeks ago. Our cousins. On our mom’s side. I met them a couple of times as a kid but mom blipped off the radar once she was expecting you. They’d found out I was still out there recently and wanted to get back in touch. They didn’t know about you. I didn’t tell them. I said I’ll think about it, but honestly? I want nothing to do with them. I don’t want to be associated with anything to do with Mom, after what she did to you. And anyway, it’ll be a bitch to explain to them why I still look sixteen. But I thought it was only right you should know, in case you were interested in getting to know them.”

Jason was a little speechless. He’d never really considered the fact that he might have extended family out there. Other Graces. He wasn’t sure what to do. That didn’t bother him though. When he wasn’t sure about something, he’d talk it through with Leo. They’d figure it out together.

Family games began. After a rather violent round of charades, cut short by the fire alarm being set off by someone who will remain nameless, they decided on karaoke.

“KNEE-DEEP IN THE PASSENGER SEAT AND YOU’RE EATING ME OUT-“ Leo and Piper screamed in unison, using the deodorant bottle and the TV remote as fake microphones. They’d moved the coffee table out the way and the two of them were now singing their hearts out in the middle of the living room while Jason and Thalia watched from the couch.

Jason glanced nervously at a vase that was getting dangerously close to Leo’s flailing arms. Maybe Karaoke hadn’t been the best idea.

Piper was yelling furiously into her deodorant bottle, eyes closed, giving her best theatre-kid belt.

Leo was on his knees, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“FUCKED YOU IN THE BATHROOM WHEN WE WENT TO DINNER, YOUR PARENTS AT THE TABLE, YOU WONDER WHY I’M BITTERRRRR- hey! Hey, Jason! Do you think me and Piper should start a band? No, but really? I’ve already picked out our name, we’d be called “Piping Hot!” I think we should do it. Piper? Should we do it?”

“I married that man,” Jason reminded Thalia.

“Y’know, we did ask Chappell Roan if she wanted to join the hunters,” Thalia remarked.

Piper spun around so fast she almost wacked Leo in the face, “Ohh my gods tell me EVERYTHING.”

“This was before I joined,” Thalia said, “And she said no. But she still invites Lady Artemis to her concerts sometimes.”

Piper shoved herself in between the two siblings on the sofa, and began bouncing up and down in excitement as Thalia told stories of all the amazing women who have been asked to join the hunters over the years.

Jason, feeling a little crowded, stood up from the couch and went into the bedroom.

He groaned and rubbed his temples. Soon, he felt hands creep from his waist and hug him around the middle. Leo leaned his warm body into him, and rested his chin on Jason’s shoulder.

“Hmm…You okay?” Leo mumbled.

“Yeah…” Jason stayed in Leo’s embrace for a few seconds, then pulled away, leaning against the dresser.

Leo leaned next to him, sighing and folding his arms.

“You still thinking about what Thalia said? About your cousins?”

“Yeah…” Jason said, again. He turned to him, “What do you think I should do?”

Leo was silent for a few moments. “I dunno…”

“You have family, don’t you?” Jason asked.

Leo’s shoulders tensed slightly. Jason could see his expression become a little guarded, which hardly happened to Jason anymore. But biological family was a touchy subject for both of them. “Yeah. Lots.”

“Do you… ever think about getting back in touch? After everything that’s happened-“

Leo shook his head vigorously, “Nuh-uh. No way. I think it’s safe to say I don’t have the best experience with my extended family. My own cousins? They used to beat me up for being weird and skinny. I don’t owe those people a gods-damned thing.” He looked down, sadly, “And anyway, I tried… once. Chiron told me, after the fight with Gaea, that he called them to tell them I was dead. They just… didn’t care. My Aunt yelled at him for disturbing her and hung up the phone.”

“That’s horrible!”

Leo shrugged, “I don’t need them. I got you guys.” He glanced fondly through the open doorway of their room, over at Piper and Thalia, who were watching Mean Girls on the sofa (they both had a crush on Regina George), “You’re all the family that I need.”

“Still… there’s something to be said for finding your roots. Your blood. Could be a community there.”

Jason had spent his whole life trying to find where he fit. Camp Jupiter, Camp Half-Blood, on the Argo II, in the mortal world. He’d eventually found his place, with Piper and Leo. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t expand his people. His pack. If his relatives genuinely cared about him, and wanted to meet him…

Leo ran his hands through his hair, “Yeah… I get why some people think blood is important. But not for me. I love my mom because she raised me, not because she gave birth to me. You and Piper… you’ve showed me more love and kindness than the people that are s’pposed to take care of me. You’re my family.” He paused, then added, “But hey, I mean… If finding your blood relatives is what you need to do, then do it.”

“Plus,” Jason added, “If we ever have kids… hypothetically speaking… it might be nice for them to know their heritage.”

“It would…” Leo agreed, “But it’s not necessary.”

Jason sighed, “I don’t know why I’m getting all worked up about this. They don’t even know I exist yet. I guess I’ve sort of always had this fantasy of a nice, nuclear family structure. I know it’s stupid, but-“

“No, it’s not stupid!” Leo said, pulling away from the dresser and turning to face him, “If it’s something you want, then it’s something you want. It’s okay to want normalcy. Everyone has their own beliefs about what family should be. Yeah, it’s the template a western society pushes onto us, but that doesn’t make it inherently evil. It’s nice to want to know the people you’re related to. We’re pack animals- it’s in our nature,” he sighed, “Look. All I’m saying is I’ve done the whole “blood relatives” thing, and it didn’t work out for me, so I adjusted to live without it. Thalia didn’t want it either. That’s her choice. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”

“But what if they’re shitty, like yours?”

“Then we just say fuck ‘em and we’ll go get ice cream.”

Jason rested his head on Leo’s shoulder, “You’re my favourite husband, did you know that? You’re just the best.”

Leo smiled, “And, if they’re really nice? Then… count yourself lucky, I guess. Not everyone can have that.”

“But you’ll have it,” Jason said, “Any family that is mine is yours now. If I get some shiny new family members then they’ll be yours, too. You might finally be accepted into a big clan of people.”

“That would be kinda nice,” Leo admitted, “But I’ll be happy either way. I’m happy just with you, bello. It is a wonderful dream, don’t get me wrong, and I love that you think it could happen. And I don’t wanna tell you to not get your hopes up, just… I dunno, I guess I find it hard to believe that a wider family like that could accept someone, love them unconditionally just because they share a few genes. But that reflects more about me than it says about you. I think you should go for it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Jason nodded to the open doorway, “Come on, let’s go back out there before they decide to make Fetch happen.”

Jason thought fondly back to a conversation they’d had a few years ago, during one of their sessions of sitting together in the workshop.

“Hey, hermoso?”

“Hmm?” Leo looked up from his sketches. Jason still remembered it now. It was summer, and hot. Leo had tied his hair back to keep it out of his face as he worked. His bronze hearing aid glinted in the low evening light. This was back before they were married, and Leo’s engagement ring twitched a little on Leo’s ring finger as he tapped on the desk.

“I-I was thinking… what if I… changed my name?”

Leo had put his pencil down and turned in his chair, so that he was facing Jason.

“What, like, Fernando Grace or something?”

“No, the, er… the last name. In marriage.”

“So… Grace-Valdez? Or… Valdez-Grace?”

Jason shifted on the seat of his stool. Leo’s amber-brown eyes watched him, noting every tender movement, twitch, and mannerism as Jason sat before him.

“Well… how about just Jason Valdez?”

Leo thought for a moment. “You sure Fernando is off the table? Because I think-“

“Leo, I’m serious.”

“Sorry, I’m just uncomfortable with emotions,” Leo said, “That is… wow. It’s a lot to process… You’re really serious? Like, genuinely?”

“Yeah!” I mean… my mom was kind of a… a…”

“A bitch.”

“Yes. That. I’m perfectly fine with letting her name die out. I don’t really want to be associated with her, or-or what she’s done. But I want you to be a part of me. A part of my identity. I want to be a Valdez. If… If you’d let me.”

Leo’s expression was hard to read at first, Jason could see the cogs turning in Leo’s brain, thinking a million thoughts at once, but then he broke into a gigantic smile.

“Oh Jason! Of course! If you’re sure?”

“Yes,” Jason said, reaching out and taking both Leo’s hands in his, “I am sure.”

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [Okay, so I’ve hit my limit for pictures per posts, so I can’t use any more of those cool page dividers I made, so we’ll have to just pretend ;)] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Jason walked into his office the first day back from Winter Break.

He sat down in his office chair, and booted up the PC monitor. While he was waiting for it to load, he sat back and surveyed everything on his desk. This was his morning ritual: count your blessings, you have a lot more than you used to.

His eyes fixed on a photograph. Him and Leo at the altar on their wedding day.

Thalia stood to the left in her Best Man’s suit. Percy, Nico, Will, and Reyna had all been groomsmen. Piper stood to Leo’s right as his Maid of Honour. Frank had refused to wear the bridesmaid’s dress that Leo had picked out, and instead settled for a dark blue tux that really did kind of suit him. He stood beside Hazel, just behind Piper. The entire Hephaestus cabin had been the bridal party (little Harley had been a very cute flower boy). Even Hephaestus himself was there, and had agreed to walk Leo down the aisle. Jupiter hadn’t shown. Figures. Jason had to admit that he’d hoped his father would be there, but it was wishful thinking. He didn’t dwell on it though- that day had been the happiest day of his life, he wasn’t going to let his deadbeat daddy ruin it for him.

They were married in June- the sacred month dedicated to Juno. In Roman times, this was meant to be good luck and a blessing on your marriage. While both Jason and Leo had a… complicated relationship with the goddess, they tried their best to keep things civil for the sake of the special day.

Jason had worn a traditional Roman toga. It was white with gold embroidery. Leo had, of course, designed that as well. He was amazing with a sewing machine.

Leo wore a well-fitted tuxedo. The fabric was enchanted to flicker red and gold- with flashes of white and blue, like hot flames. He called it “girl-on-fire core”. It was lined with dragon hide on the inside, making it fireproof.

Wreaths of violets and marigolds adorned the wedding arch. Jason held Leo’s calloused hands in his own, feeling the heat coming off of them in waves, like holding a mug of hot chocolate on a cold Christmas day.

Aphrodite stood next to them under the arch, officiating the wedding.

“Do you, Jason Grace, take Leonidas-“

Leo coughed.

“… Leo Valdez, to be your husband- wed in both mortal law and in the eyes of the gods? Do you, in front of all the people gathered here today, pledge to be true and devoted to him, to have and to hold for eternity? From this day forward, do you vow to be with him, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, forever? In good times and bad, in sickness and in health, do you promise to love and honor him all the days of your life and beyond, never to part, even in death?”

Jason gripped Leo’s hands in his. He knew that the goddess Aphrodite was right next to him, but honestly? He didn’t give a flying fuck about her. And that was coming from the Flying Fuck himself. All he could look at was Leo. Leo was the most beautiful person in that room. He knew that would definitely displease the goddess, but Jason had given his whole life trying to serve the will of the gods. Now, he was creating a new life. With the phenomenal man in front of him.

Jason felt Leo’s fingers tapping against Jason’s palms where their hands were grasped. A familiar rhythm that Jason knew well. Two short taps. Short tap, long tap, two short taps. Three long taps. Three short taps and a long tap. Tap. Long tap, short tap, long tap, long tap. Three long taps. Two short taps, one long tap.

Jason grinned.

“I do.”

Maybe Aphrodite smiled then, Jason didn’t know. He was lost in Leo’s deep eyes, looking at him and him only.

“I really, really do.”

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

“Shit!” Jason whispered, as the fork fell to the ground with a loud clatter, “Shhh!” He told the fork, which probably didn’t help.

Leo was asleep on the in the living-room. He’d had another nightmare and had woken up in flames, scorching the duvet. After much consolation that no, Jason had not been hurt in the fire and that yes, it was just a dream, he had finally passed out curled in Jason’s arms, watching Frozen II on the sofa. That was at 5am.

It was now midday and Leo was still asleep. It was his day off, so Jason was currently trying to cook his husband breakfast. There was just one small issue…

Jason couldn’t cook.

He fussed about in their little kitchenette that led off their open-plan living/dining space, a Stand-Up Comedy Special on in the background, the volume down low so as not to wake Leo. He’d somehow managed to burn the avocado, meanwhile the hash-browns were still frozen cold in the middle. He was beginning to get super frustrated with this breakfast burrito. Why couldn’t he have just made cereal instead? But he wanted to do something nice for Leo, and thank him for all the times Leo had cooked.

“Fry bacon over medium heat until crispy,” Jason muttered to himself. As soon as he set the skillet down, the outlets sparked, causing the induction hob to short-circuit, the digital display blinking out. Jason tried several times, but it refused to switch back on. “Fine, be that way!” Jason snapped at the hob.

He didn’t really understand why Leo couldn’t just eat the bacon raw. Jason had been raised by wolves after all- he’d done it loads of times and had only gotten sick twice. But Leo loved food, especially good food. It reminded him of home, of his mother, and family gatherings where everyone all sat around the table good-naturedly, united by the meal enough to not yell at each other. Those mealtimes were the only happy memories Leo had of the family that had kicked him out on the streets and ruined his life. It was safe to say the other Valdezes had not been present at their wedding.

Jason thought back to his own upbringing. How his mom had been so drunk and zonked out that she’d forget to feed him and Thalia. Jason had been so hungry, he’d tried to eat a stapler. He knew Leo had had similar experiences on the streets, and, while Leo had never admitted it, that was probably one of the reasons why he was so short and skinny.

He’d gained a lot of weight since Jason had first seen him on that bus, which Jason was proud of. He imagined that he’d been even thinner before. He was glad to see Leo getting better, but part of him was still sad to see the damage it had done.

Jason wished he could cook. Maybe it was some primal wolf urge to look out for the runt of the litter, but also food was a comfort for Leo, and cooking was a love language to him. He wanted more than anything to make him good meals, see his face light up when he made him something.

“I’m not gonna fuck this up this time,” Jason muttered through gritted teeth. The thought of Leo’s proud expression when he showed off his culinary creation kept him going. He decided to light a small fire over the miniature brasier they kept on the countertop for offerings (scraped a bit of bacon and some sliced tomato into it, praying to Edesia, Roman goddess of Banquets for good luck) and decided to fry the bacon the old fashioned way.

Leo woke up at 1pm (Jason was glad he’d gotten at least the recommended eight hours of sleep). Jason immediately set the plate of burritos down on the coffee table in front of him, grinning eagerly.

Leo reached out and took the burrito, looking perplexed. He examined its contents, “You- you made this?”

“Yup.”

“You cooked?”

“Sure did.”

Leo glanced back at their kitchenette, as if checking for explosion marks. He sniffed the tortilla, cautiously. Jason sat on the edge of the armchair next to him, bouncing up and down a little on the cushion. He could almost imagine his tail wagging in anticipation.

Leo bit into the wrap, and his face lit up. “This is actually not bad! You’re getting better.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, querido. Es muy bueno. You can make this for me again.”

Jason beamed, proud of himself.

“Did you spend all morning on this?”

“I did. I wanted to do something special to cheer you up. I’m glad you like it.”

Leo took another bite. “Oh what a joy to wake up to!” He said, “You really are the best Husband ever.”

“I can’t be,” Jason said, “You exist.”

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

As the students filed out of the lecture hall, Jason turned and saw Leo leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed in his usual suspenders and tool belt, this time over a black button-up shirt. A clean one, which was unlike Leo. He looked surprisingly dashing with his freshly-washed hair and his brown Doc Martens. Several of Jason’s students had stopped to stare at him, whispering behind their hands. Jason watched as Leo produced a bouquet of violets and marigolds from the back pocket of his tool belt.

Jason walked forward and accepted them, then kissed him on the cheek.

“What’s the occasion, mi cielo?” Jason asked.

“No occasion,” Leo said, “I just love you.”

Jason spied a few of his students taking pictures on their phones.

“You better not be posting those online,” Jason told them, “If I get home to find a hoard of monsters raiding our apartment you’re all getting Ds, understand?”

They nodded. He turned back to Leo.

“There’s still some work I’ve gotta finish up,” Jason whispered.

“Me too,” Leo whispered back, “But… can we talk? Later?”

“Oh! Yes, of course,” Jason said. He could feel himself blushing. His students were staring at them, giggling.

Leo noticed them too. He switched to American Sign Language.

“Let’s go to that restaurant we like. I’ll meet you there at 8pm.”

“Fancy!” Jason signed, “Are you sure this isn’t a special occasion?”

Leo smiled. “I just wanna take you out! I have money, I’m allowed to take my husband out on a date! Just don’t be late. I’ll see you there.”

He gave Jason another peck on the cheek. “I gotta run,” He said, “But talk later, okay?”

“Okay!” Jason called, as Leo rushed off.

Jason stood there, agape, for a few seconds, before the excited whispers from the small crowd of students snapped him out of it.

“Gods, I hope that was his husband.” “He’s so skinny!” “I thought children of Hephaestus were supposed to be huge!” “And ugly, but he was kinda cute.” “No, guys, did you see he’s got, like, five million photos of him on his desk-“

Jason cleared his throat, and they stopped abruptly, “Yes, if you’re curious, that was Mr Valdez. No, I will not be taking further questions at this time. Umm… Class dismissed.”

The gaggle of students left, dragging their feet and sneaking glances back at Jason, talking in hushed whispers.

A little dazed, he made his way up to his office and walked inside. Jason realised he was still holding the bouquet of flowers Leo had given him. He walked over to his desk, emptied his half-drunk cup of tea, washed the mug out and filled it up with water (Leo often teased him for drinking tea. He said it made him look like a British Grandpa. But Jason liked it). He plopped the flowers in it, and sat down at his desk to grade papers.

The sun had set in the early january hours when he heard a faint rap on his door. He looked up. Standing nervously in the doorway was one of his quieter students, Joshua.

“Umm… Professor Valdez?” He asked in a small voice.

“What is it, Joshua?”

“Can- can I come in?”

Jason gestured for the kid to sit down in the chair facing his desk.

“I was- I was working on a project for my Greek Studies course, and we had to write about one difference between Roman and Greek society…”

“Yes…?”

“Well, I wanted to write about how Greeks viewed queer identity compared to the Romans? Because they, like, had fundamentally different views on gender and sexuality and it’s super interesting to me. I know you’re a Roman History professor but you’re also one of the only queer teachers I know, and you’re also just a really good teacher in general… I was wondering if you could help me?”

Jason signalled for him to shuffle over to his side of the desk. He pulled up a few websites on his computer, and began talk about examples of different Greek art that depicted men-loving-men relationships.

They talked for a while, but then Joshua interrupted, pointing to one of the photos on Jason’s desk. “Is that your husband?”

Jason picked up the picture and smiled, “Yes. That’s us at a wedding we went to last spring.” It had been Hazel and Frank’s wedding.

“Woah…” he whispered. He paused, then said, “You know, I’ve always looked up to you. I grew up hearing stories about the Seven demigods who sailed on the Argo II. You’re all huge inspirations.”

Jason nodded at the photograph, “I think so too, that’s why I married one.”

“What was it like… all those months sailing, facing all those terrible monsters?”

Jason remembered back to all those times he’d found Leo crying in the engine room, shivering after a particularly viscous monster attack, a nightmare, or another dirt-formed vision of Gaea. Those tearful nights spent consoling him.

“It… it was hard, especially seeing as we were just teenagers. But at least we had each other.”

Joshua looked at the Rubik’s cube with its self-shuffling sides, “Woah. Did he get you that?”

“He made it, actually. He is one of the best mechanics in the western hemisphere, after all.“

Jason picked it up, fondly, turning it over in his fingers.

The conversation carried on, drifting (as all good conversations do) to Sappho and her poetry. It wasn’t until Jason checked the clock that he realised the time.

“Shit, I gotta meet the Mister for dinner in fifteen minutes. Sorry, Joshua.”

He scribbled down the titles of a few books the kid could borrow from the library, and shouldered his bag. Joshua thanked him and left.

Jason picked up his keys and went to turn off the light. Before he left, he turned and looked at the flowers in the cup. Violets and marigolds. The same flowers they’d had at their wedding. Purple and orange, like the colours of Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. Leo had an appreciation for a good metaphor.

He turned out the light and left his office, locking the door behind him.

They were one of the first Greco-Roman couples to get married since the camps discovered each other. Their wedding had been a celebration of the merging of both sides. It was becoming more and more commonplace now, but they were in the early stages of creating new traditions between these partnerships.

Jason had always tried to do things a little differently. He’d never liked it when he was told he had to uphold all these “Roman Values” in order to be perfect. He didn’t want to have to fit in a mould. That’s one of the countless reasons why he loved Leo so much. Leo wasn’t perfect. He didn’t try to be. He faked smiles and confidence for survival, but he never stopped being so unapologetically himself while doing it. And when Jason was around him, he couldn’t care less about what people thought he should be. Leo made him a better person because of that.

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Jason thought back to their wedding day again.

He remembered their first dance, to the song “Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman. Jason stumbled over his feet a little as they danced. Later that night, Leo had torn up the dance floor doing the Macarena. Jason wondered how Leo had managed to go all night without bursting into flames.

Much parties and drinking ensued. Jason was swamped with guests, congratulating him. He made polite conversation with them all, and was so distracted he didn’t even realise that Leo had left the room.

He felt a quick surge of panic as he searched for him, but it soon subsided when he saw Leo out on the balcony of the wedding venue, looking out at the city. He’d taken off his jacket and it was folded on the rail next to him.

The relief gave way to concern, though, when he saw that Leo was on fire.

Jason walked over to him and leaned on the balcony railing next to him, just out of reach of the flames, “Long day?” He asked, trying not to show the worry in his voice.

“Good day,” Leo replied, smiling at him. Jason instantly relaxed.

“Sorry I left- just had to get away from the crowds and cool off,” Leo nodded at the suit jacket, flames licking his face, “That’s the last time I wear something with heat-suppressing polymers. I had to, for safety and all, but man… it was so stuffy. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.” Leo’s chest crackled quietly with the fire in the cool evening air, “Anyway, I needed to decompress. Let some of it out. “

“Understandable. It’s an emotional night.”

“I’m just so incredibly happy, Jason,” Leo said, “It’s hard to keep contained.”

Looking at Leo, Jason felt little zzzts of electricity buzzing through his hair. Yeah, he understood.

“Socialisation is exhausting,” Leo admitted, “Especially when you’re masking. Especially at an intense event like this. But don’t think I’m upset. I’m not. Just a little… overstimulated.”

Jason smiled, “I understand. Take all the time you need. Soon, though, we’ll be off on our honeymoon. Just you and I, alone together.”

Leo closed his eyes at the pleasure of the thought, “That would be nice.”

“Gods, I’m eager to get out of this toga. It’s itchy as heck.”

They exchanged a quick side-eye.

Jason sidled a little closer, careful to keep the fabric of his clothes out of reach of the flames. “I wish I could kiss you,” he said, frowning at the red fire brushing against Leo’s cheek.

“Hold your pegasi, lightning boy! We’re spending the rest of our lives together- there’ll be plenty of opportunities for you to kiss me, don’t you worry.”

“I guess you’re right,” Jason replied.

Leo softened, “Your company’s enough for me, amor mio. That’s all I need.”

Jason looked back at the open doorway, at the party in the venue behind them. “Well I should probably get back in there. They’ll be wondering where we are. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you’re constipated.”

“How very dignified of you.”

Jason looked into Leo’s eyes, his brown irises turning orange in the glittering fire that wreathed his face, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Jason went back into the building, looking back at his husband and smiling. Then he proceeded to rejoin the party.

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Leo was waiting for him outside the restaurant. He now wore a black suit jacket over his black shirt and suspenders. Jason knew that it had been stolen from his wardrobe. Leo didn’t own many suits.

He’d chosen a table for two under the awning outside the restaurant. Jason kissed him on the cheek when he saw him and sat down across from him. A waitress came over and took their drinks order.

“Umm… Tea, please. Earl Grey.”

“Earl Grey?” Leo said, “That even sounds like a British Grandpa.”

Jason ignored him, “Milk, two sugars please.”

“Hey, whatever floats your trireme, man. And can I have the umm… the umm…” Leo clicked his fingers and scrunched up his face in concentration, “Come on, English!! The… frothy… cow… juice…”

“The what?”

Leo mimed a complicated charade of drinking a certain beverage, which Jason attempted to decipher.

“A… milkshake?”

Leo snapped his fingers and pointed at Jason, “Yes. That. See? I knew I married you for a reason.”

Jason shook his head in disbelief, “I apologise for… whatever that was,” He said to the waitress, “English isn’t his first language.”

“Shut up Valdez," Leo said.

Jason smiled.

The waitress flashed them her customer-service grin and left with their orders. Jason turned to Leo, his perfect Leo, sitting there across the restaurant table just looking perfect. Jason beamed at him.

"What?" Leo asked, upon seeing the cheesy expression on Jason's face.

"Nothing..." Jason said, "So what is it you wanted to talk about?"

Leo ran his hands through his hair. Even after all these years, he still knew how to take the breath out of Jason’s lungs.

“Umm… well, I was thinking hard about that conversation we had a couple months ago, I just haven’t been able to get it out of my mind since…”

“Leo, we’ve had a lot of conversations in the last couple months-“

“The one about having kids! I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes…?” Jason said, dreading what might come next.

“And I’ve decided,” Leo said, twisting the ring around his finger.

Jason held his breath.

“I wanna do it. I want to start a family. At some point. In the future. Not right now, but at some point.”

Jason actually jumped up from his seat. He hugged Leo.

“Oh, Leo, that’s so good to hear!!!”

“Yeah, well… I love you. And I guess, as the son of the God of Creation… I want to create something. With you. Something more than just a Roomba,” he sighed, “I’m not good with organic life forms, but that’s what we do, isn’t it? We face challenges together. We don’t always do things in our comfort zone, but ultimately we risk it for what it’s worth at the end… I dunno, I’m getting cheesy.”

Jason smiled, “I love your cheesiness, Leo.”

Just then, the waitress came back with their drinks and took their dinner orders. Once she left, Jason turned back to Leo.

“You know,” Jason joked, “Since I actually didn’t die fighting Caligula, I’ve always wondered what the Sibyl meant by I will “three letters, starts with D”. I’m guessing, since we re-united after the fight it meant things would eventually lead to “Dad”.”

“Or you’ve been dead this whole time, and this is a delusional Elysium dream,” Leo said in a monotone voice.

“Wh-what?” Jason hurriedly scanned Leo’s face for any sign of a joke, but for some reason he couldn’t quite meet his eyes. They were distorted somehow, like trying to see a monster through the Mist. Fog swirled around the two of them, so Jason lost sight of their surroundings, only Leo’s weirdly blank face. He caught a flash of Leo laughing- a burst between the freakily deadpan expression Leo wore. It was like something had glitched.

Suddenly, the room brightened. They were back in the restaurant, and Leo was looking at him with a curious expression, his brow knotted slightly in concern.

“I didn’t say anything,” Leo said.

“You… You said…” Jason tried to think back to their previous conversation, but his memory of it was somehow distant- like a wound closing from ambrosia.

Leo cocked his head to one side, “You sure you’re alright, Jase?”

Jason blinked, “I’m- I’m fine.” He shook his head, trying to clear the confusion. “Long day. Just a little sleep-deprived. Probably hallucinating. What were we talking about, again?”

“Baby names,” Leo reminded him.

“Oh, right.”

“I think Leo Jr is a very strong name for a child,” Leo said, “Imagine, “Leonidas Valdez the Second! Badass Warrior Mechanic!”

“But what if it’s a girl?”

Leo paused for a few seconds, then said “I was thinking… I could name her after my mom?”

Jason frowned, “Names have power though. While I love the sentiment, I don’t think naming your kid after someone who died young is a very good idea.”

Leo sighed, “You’re right.”

“But it’s a lovely thought, though.”

“Yeah…”

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Jason walked into class the next morning.

“Hey, Professor! How’s your twink?”

“He’s not my-“ Jason began, “Well, yes, he is kind of a twink. And he is mine. What’s your point?”

The students laughed.

Jason turned to the projector screen and began to talk, when a student interrupted him.

“Tell us more about your husband, Professor!”

Jason knew this trap. They were trying to de-rail the lesson, get Jason talking about something else and forget to set the homework. If they thought they were gonna get away with not having to learn about Roman History for half a lesson they were wrong. Jason wasn’t gonna fall for their games and tricks.

But oh! He was a sucker for talking about Leo. As much as he wanted to resist, he found himself sinking into a ramble about his husband’s amazingness.

“I mean, he’s only the best thing to come from Huston, Texas. Like, ever. And that includes Beyoncé.”

The entire lecture hall gave a collective gasp of shock.

“You’re not serious, sir?” A student in the front row whispered.

“I am. And I don’t say that lightly either,” Jason may have been raised by wolves, but even he understood Beyoncé’s reverence. “I very much respect Queen Bey and what she does. You know she’s actually a minor goddess now?”

“Really? The gods made her one?” Another student heckled.

Jason shook his head, “No, not the gods. Much like how the Roman Emperors survived for thousands of years because of how much they were worshipped by their subjects, Beyoncé’s cult following has helped her ascend to goddesshood too.”

“Woah…”

“I’d be surprised if the Eras Tour doesn’t do the same thing for Taylor Swift. My husband loves her. We wanna get tickets, but that would mean our kids will never be able to afford to go to college, so… it’s still open for negotiation.”

A student raised his hand, “What other celebrities became gods from their worship?”

“Well,” Jason said, leaning back on his desk, “Have you ever heard of a band called the Beatles?”

Once the lesson had ended, Jason was approached by one of his students. It was Joshua, the kid he’d helped with homework.

“I- I just wanted to thank you for your help, Professor. On the essay. I got a really high grade and I passed my class!”

Jason grinned, “That’s great to hear! I don’t wanna give too much away but I have a feeling you’ll do very well in this class, too.” He tapped the side of his nose, like he was telling some big secret.

Joshua still looked a little nervous, like he had something more to say but wasn’t sure if he should.

“Is everything alright, Joshua?” Jason asked, giving him his kindest smile.

“It’s just… umm… I wanted to thank you for being my favourite teacher. You’re such an inspiring role model… my- my parents, they d-don’t really like the sort of stuff I’m studying… the sort of stuff I was writing that essay about. They’re traditional, see? All about upholding Good Roman Values. But you, being so open about who you are, and about your husband… from someone as heroic and influential as yourself… it meant a lot to me.”

Before Jason knew what was happening, Joshua gave him a quick, tight hug. “Thank you,” the kid whispered. Then he shouldered his backpack, and left the lecture hall.

Jason may or may not have cried a little.

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Jason pushed a button, and a large metal door opened inwards onto Leo’s warehouse. He stepped inside, his footsteps echoing on the hard concrete floor. From the cavernous ceiling hung car engines, machine parts, and large automatons. All around him were cluttered racks, standing shelves, and an assortment of other storage solutions. Jason wove his way through the labyrinthine pathways forged from kicked-aside projects. He was carrying a large take-out bag from the Greek Restaurant across the street from campus. Despite the large open space, there wasn’t much room to walk, so he picked his way apprehensively through the mess, nervous that he might step either on some prized masterpiece, or something explosive.

He spotted Leo’s apprentice, Penny, working the forges in the back of the gigantic space. She was hammering out a sheet of stygian iron, her mousy-blonde hair tied messily out of the way. She wore large welder’s goggles, and oversized Dragon-hide gloves.

He gingerly stepped over machinery and made his way over to her, greeting her with a nod. She stopped hammering, and pushed her goggles onto her head with a gloved finger.

“Where’s your Jedi Master?” Jason asked.

She set her hammer down on a nearby workbench and glanced expectantly at his take-out bag. He reached in, brought out a greasy Tupperware box, un-popped the lid, and handed her one of the dolmades. Her expression didn’t waver, she continued to stare at the bag. Jason rolled his eyes and begrudgingly gave her another one. This seemed to satisfy her. “He’s up on the roof,” she said, popping the stuffed vine leaf into her mouth.

He thanked her, and made his way up the metal spiral staircase that led to the roof.

He found Leo sitting on the roof’s edge, facing away from him. Festus sat next to him on his hind legs, his large metal tail wrapped around him like a cat. They both turned when Jason came up. He walked over to them, patted the dragon’s bronze jaw affectionately, and sat down next to Leo, putting the take-out bag between them. He began to dish out the food. Leo raised an eyebrow at the missing dolmades.

“I had to bribe Penny to tell me where you were,” Jason admitted.

Leo chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. His dark curls bounced in the golden light of the setting sun. “That girl has learned well. Never waste an opportunity to swindle free food.”

“Oh, I see. You taught her that.”

They laughed, kicking their dangling feet off the concrete warehouse walls.

“So how was your day?” Leo asked.

Jason scratched Festus’ chin, absent-mindedly. He thought about Joshua, and about the other kids in his class. He thought about how proud he was of the papers he graded. He thought about the bright young minds. Jason had grown up fighting in the legion. He’d faced untold horrors in order to save the world. So had Leo. And they still were saving it in their own way. By passing his knowledge onto the next generation, he felt safe knowing that the future was in their hands. By teaching his students about demigod life, about Roman History, and also teaching them that it was okay for a tough Roman soldier to love another man, he felt like he was still doing all he could to protect the world, but he’d found a less life-threatening way to do it.

“My day was good,” He told him, “What about yours?”

As Leo talked about his latest commissions, Jason looked around him. He remembered how much Leo had saved up to be able to afford to buy this place. But he needed a place to keep Festus (Terminus had been very particular about where the dragon had been allowed to stay, since he technically counted as a weapon). It had meant their honeymoon was spent in some discount resort in the south of Mexico with a low budget hotel room, drinking cheap wine. Jason wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

Leo really did love his machine shop. It had been a dream of his to own one since as long as Jason had known him. He knew that part of that was guilt for burning down the one his mom owned in Texas, that had been in his family for three generations. But Jason could see by the way Leo treated the space that he kept it working to honour his mom. And although Jason had never met Esperanza, he could feel her spirit in the air in this place.

He wondered if she’d be happy for her son that they’d found each other. Jason thought she would. She’d be so proud of Leo- how could she not? Leo was the best thing that had ever happened to Jason. He’d fought tooth and nail to save the world, and now they were living happily in New Rome.

Are we happy? A little voice in the back of Jason’s head said. They still had troubles and hardships ahead of them. Leo still struggled to sleep with the nightmares. Jason still couldn’t say Caligula’s name. People still looked down on Jason for dating the Greek who fired on New Rome. People still gave Jason shit for taking the last name of the man he loved. Queer kids in Jason’s class still struggled to be accepted by their parents. Wars were still happening. Demigods still died. Things might look completely different for them in a few years time. They could be drafted into another fight. They could lose each other. Again.

But they had found their little pocket of peace. The place and time where they could stay. And be happy. Because yes, they were happy.

He sat, side-by side with Leo, looking out at the sunset going from orange to purple to black. He wrapped his arm around his husband’s shoulders. The love of his life. His everything.

He was happy. Despite everything, he was happy. Jason was happy going to work every day, facing whatever there was to be faced, knowing he would come home to Leo at the end.

Jason looked into Leo’s eyes. Leo’s sparkling, dazzling eyes. The freshly-born stars reflected in them as the sky darkened to night. He watched them twinkle in those pupils as they shifted, busily scanning the sky for gods know what. He knew that he was happy, too. They had each other.

Sometimes the fates could be kind that way.

Jason sat on the warehouse roof, watching the stars come out. And he knew, right then and there, that whatever happened, everything was gonna be okay.

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Fuuuucckkk this took me ages to write but ohhh my gods-

This is now my longest fic ever and I’ve been obsessed with it for months.

Footnotes/Things I wanna talk about:

One day I realised “Hey, wait! I can make them get married!” And two months and 15K words later (I started writing this on Jason’s bday) here we are.

Penny, Leo’s apprentice- would you wanna see more from her? I know fics with ocs don’t do as well, but it will still mostly focus on Valgrace. I love the idea of talking about my otps from an outsider POV, I can expand on more lore for this universe, and be able to show them just being adorable and cute and fluffy together. Maybe while Leo and Jason are thinking more seriously about kids, Leo tries out his fatherly chops on his apprentice?

No we are not gonna mention Jason’s little “glitch in the matrix” moment back there. Nothing happened, what are you even talking about? [unless you think that would make a good fic to expand upon, I’d be prepared to take a dark route] Just pretend I added that in to explain away any plot-holes.

The “Jason wants to get in touch with his bio family and Leo’s a little sceptical” plot is something I’ve wanted to write about for a while. Particularly as Jason’s whole arc is about finding a place. They’re “The Lost Trio” because each of them are trying to find something. Jason’s trying to find who he is and where he belongs. Leo’s prepared to just settle for any place that won’t shun him for who he is. I fully believe that Leo is perfectly happy just the two of them, whereas Jason’s still on that journey of “what if there’s more of me out there?”. And Leo being Leo, he’d obviously help Jason with that, but he’d remind Jason that he would be loved no matter what, with or without a bio family.

Should I expand on that topic, write a conclusion? I left it a little open-ended and up to the imagination (and bc this fic is already 9k words long as I’m writing this and there are too many plotlines) but it would be something fun to follow up on, maybe giving it it’s own time to properly shine, and get down to the nitty gritty stuff. If the family is good to Jason, Leo would be happy for him but still a little bitter that he never got that chance. If the family is bad to Jason, Jason would struggle with what that means for him (he did a little bit of this in canon when he saw his mom’s ghost in BoO) and Leo would empathise with him, and reassure them that they’re still a family just as them.

I like to cite my sources, so here is the article I found about Ancient Greek wedding traditions in case you’re curious/need inspiration. It was an interesting rabbit-hole.

Also, a lot of this was inspired by @lavenderfairiez’s fic “All I wanted was you” so pls check that out.

Thank you to @xixovart for helping me with the Spanish. I am White As Fuck and British, and I get most of what I know of Latin American culture from In The Heights, so I apologise if I’ve gotten things wrong (I also used google translate for some).

I found I ended up making Jason speak Spanish a lot more than Leo- I feel like Jason is definitely more of an “endearing pet names” kinda guy, wheras Leo is the “fucking ruthless character assassinations” kinda guy. I also have this hc that Jason absolutely LOVES to speak Spanish to Leo, and does it at every opportunity. He thinks of it as “Leo’s language” and adores the fact that he can speak it now, because him and Leo are together, and that makes him so fucking happy.

Jason thinks Leo is just the best thing to ever happen to existence, and I love that.

Lot o’ thoughts about wedding vows, and the theme of promises for Valgrace and PJO in general. I’ve already made a post about it here

Leo is autisic. I feel like that had to be said bc it fuels a lot of my writing choices for this fic. Also I love it. Jason is so accommodating for his needs. They both look after each other and I love that for them.

I have WAY more where that came from. I have a timeline, a backstory, and, like, ten other fic ideas set in that universe. I have AUs of this AU. I have concept art. I have headcanons.

Please let me know what bits of this you enjoyed best, so that I can get a good idea of what to write next.

Page dividers made by me. I spent ages on them and I’m really proud of them so I might reblog with a few close-ups.

Tagging my usual fanfic/Valgrace peeps: @ottpopfic @ginnyluna @groverapologist @echo-stimmingrose @demigod-shenanigans @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @imnoturfriend-im-a-swiftie13 @euryvices @123letsgobestie @kaleidoskuls @fairytalesociology @four-leafed-queer-gal @child-of-helios @green-tea217 @puzzled-pegasus @ollieisanerd @twomanyfandomshelp @lokiwiiiiiii @yoshuko-ew @keefessketchbook @frankzhang-appreciation-posts @frayna-of-the-hollow @via-rant @daonedaonlyskh @hadeslegacyhephgirl @siimplyapril @pjowasmy1stfandom

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone in the Valgrace community- any hcs or posts that inspired me. You guys are just the best.

[raven-dor]

you and i pt.3

In which steve harrington and his best friend have an argument

PAIRING: steve harrington x reader

WARNINGS: given last name, banter, yearning, argument, swearing, tension that you could cut with a knife

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

Y/N was excited. Almost too excited for what was sure to be a whole day of sitting in the Scoops Ahoy break room. She had woken up early and made snacks for everyone. She’d even gone as far as getting to the mall (with a very grumpy Dustin) at the same time that Steve and Robin had to show up, 5:30 in the morning.

Suspiciously, she got out of her car with a grin on her face.

She wore the outfit for her date tonight, thinking she wouldn’t have time to go home in between. Steve got out of his car grumpily, and his breath hitched. God, he was screwed. He then decided to be a bit bolder than normal. "Wow." He cleared his throat, smiling wide. "You look beautiful."

Her cheeks turned red, and she would have tried to play it off by scratching her face or 'itching' her nose, but her hands were full of coffee and bags of snacks. "Thanks, Harrington." She squeezed her hand. "It's for my date tonight; I just thought that I wouldn't have time to go home." She was feeling awkward now and thus began the rambling. "I didn't know if it was too much or too little-"

Steve had totally forgotten about Pavelski. 

Shit. 

"It's perfect. He'll love it." That left a bad taste in his mouth. They stared at each other for a minute, before Robin walked in between them to enter to ice cream shop. 

"Morning twats!"

Y/N was knocked out of the trance that was Steve Harrington's eyes, shaking her head to clear her mind. She followed after her best friend, grinning. "Robbie! I brought snacks."

"Wonderful!"

Steve groaned, staring at the ground. "This is going to be a long day."

And he was right—it was a long day. They were halfway through when her 4 a.m. coffee stopped working its magic. Dustin was crankier than usual, and Steve lost all sense of a filter. He was just talking nonstop. Robin was the only one who wasn't totally out of it. She was currently slinging ice cream (as she so lovingly called it) while Steve and Dustin were out spying for potential Evil Russians.

Y/N was sleeping in the break room. She remembered falling asleep what felt like an hour ago, extremely cold because of the fan and the giant freezer to her left. Her eyes opened slowly, looking around the room suspiciously. It was too quiet. She peaked through the window. "Robin, where are Steve and Dustin?"

"Spying."

"Ah." She noticed the headphones around Robin's ears. "I don't suppose you're listening to ABBA in there."

"Nope." She took them off and held them out. "Want to give it a go?"

"Sure."

She shut the window, pressing play on the recording. They had already figured out the translation, but now they needed to know what the code meant.

"The week is long; the silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly." She repeated the words over and over, trying to find some significance to them. Thankfully, she was pulled out of the most boring chant in history by a knock on the back door, yelling back to Robin. "I'll get it!"

She opened the door, and the delivery guy smiled. "Hi."

"Hello."

"Sign here, please."

She took the box and set it down on the table before coming back to the paper. "Thank you." She looked up to smile but saw something familiar. Not a thing she had seen repeatedly, but something she had heard. 

Silver Cat.

"Holy shit." The man's eyebrows crinkled, but he walked away, and Y/N shut the door. Thinking about everything else they had heard in that annoying message, it all clicked. Blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice- She ran out of the back, almost trampling her cousin and Steve. She stood on the fountain in the middle of the mall and repeated the code back in her head. Blue meets yellow in the west, the clock at 9 o'clock, a trip to China, Imperial Panda, tread lightly, Kaufmanns Shoe store.

"Holy shit!"

Steve crossed his arms, glaring. "What happened?"

She grinned at the cranky sailor. "I figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

Y/N crossed her arms. "The message."

She moved towards the edge of the fountain to jump off, but Steve held out his hand. "Here."

She blushed, jumping down. "Thanks, Harrington."

Her cousin crossed his arms. "And you're telling us this right now?"

"I just found out, Dustin. I-" She smiled at Steve. "We need to tell Robin."

She suddenly pulled Steve back into the ice cream shop. Robin was standing at the counter, looking annoyed. "Let me guess... you figured it out."

Y/N nodded, and Steve rolled his eyes affectionately, elbowing her softly. "Valedictorian of ‘85."

"Well..."

Dustin made a face at Robin that definitely read, "I'm really disgusted right now, do something." Robin stared down, a smirk adorning her face. Their hands were still clasped together. She cleared her throat. "Ehem." They both looked at her confused, and as Robin gestured down, Y/N and Steve ripped their hands away, spluttering.

"Uh, I-"

"I-"

"We need to make a plan."

Dustin nodded. "Alright, back room. Now."

Robin grabbed the break sign and wrote on the blank space quickly, Be back in 15 minutes.

They all sat down at the table, and Y/N explained the code. "So, what I gathered is that blue meets yellow in the west means the clock, and the west is 9 o'clock. The trip to China and treading lightly is Imperial Panda and Kaufmann's Shoe store, which is the cargo. The Silver Cat is the shipping company. So at 9 o'clock tonight, there will be shipments from Imperial Panda and Kaufmanns from the Lynx Shipping Company."

Robin smiled, and Steve clapped his hands. "Wow."

"How did you even figure it out?"

She smirked at Dustin. "Wel, my little protege, I was signing a package for Robin when I saw the silver cat on the back of the delivery man’s shirt, and it all clicked."

Dustin grinned. "Nice."

Robin quickly went back to slinging ice cream, and Dustin went to see if there were any comic book stores, leaving Steve and Y/N in the back. She shivered, pulling the jacket tighter, the fan above her twirling as fast as it could. Sadly, they couldn’t control how fast it spun, leaving them to freeze to death. 

Steve leaned forward. "You're coming with us tonight, right?"

She nodded, frowning slightly, struggling to remember what she was missing. "Yeah. Of course."

"What, what's wrong?"

Y/N groaned. "My date is at eight tonight. Shit."

Hope began to bud in him, and he whispered. "Don't go."

She laughed. "What?"

He looked at her desperately. "I said don't go."

She tried not to have an outburst of emotion. "And why not, Harrington?"

"You know why, Wilkins."

She leaned in, whispering. "Say it."

Steve almost spoke the words out loud before realizing that he, once again, drifted off into his thoughts. He smiled half-heartedly. "It's fine. Just go on your date while we do the spying and shit."

She tilted her head. "Really?" She really needed him to be brave because she knew for a fact that she couldn't be. "You want me to go?"

He glared at her. He had been her best friend for eight years; he knew her like the back of his hand. He knew her tricks, and he knew that she was scared, but couldn’t she understand that he was scared, too? "You know I don't want you to go, but if you go on that date, I'm not going to stop you."

Y/N really had no right to be upset, but she was nevertheless. Her chair squeaked as she pushed it out from beneath her. "I'm leaving."

He nodded, the silence deafening. She turned around and looked back at him, really looked at him. She really wanted to say something, yell that she was in love with him, but instead, she sighed. "Steve-"

He interrupted her, waving her away like she was nothing. Like he didn't care if he lost her. A stranger to his best friend. "Have fun."

She gazed down at the coat that warmed her and realized it was Steve's. She slammed it on the table, a bit too harshly, but she didn’t really care. "It'd be weird if I showed up to a date with another guy's coat on, don't you think?"

She grabbed her keys off the counter and yelled back at her very confused friend. "Tell Dustin I'll pick him up at ten."

Robin turned to Steve slowly, waiting for some bullshit explanation. He just stared at the wall in anger.

Fuck.

God, he was so stupid. He should've gone with "fantasy" Steve's plan, which involved grabbing her face and kissing her senselessly. Now, thanks to his dumbass, she was going on a date with Derek Pavelski. Steve put his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut, hoping it was all just a bad dream.

Y/N walked into Enzo's at precisely eight o'clock and smiled at the hostess. "Hi, I'm here for a party of two. Maybe under-"

"Y/N!"

Derek was already sitting. The woman smiled and brought her to the table, where Derek was standing at her seat with her chair pulled out. 

She grinned. "Such a gentleman."

"I try." He sat down. "I'm glad you decided to come."

"I am, too. I hope I'm dressed up enough."

Derek laughed. "I hope I am too. I have no idea what the dress code is exactly."

Y/N stared at the menu and, more importantly, the menu's prices. "Wow, I don't know what to get here. It-"

He nodded. "It's expensive."

"Very."

She looked over the top of her menu, staring at him. He was concentrating on what to pick, and she was concentrating on the clock. It was 8:20 already. She sighed.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Great." She put her menu down. "So why'd you invite me here of all places?"

He laughed. "If I'm being honest, it's the first place I thought of. My dad used to bring my mom here all the time before they got divorced. Oh- I-" He stopped for a second and tried to recover. "It's just that I've heard great reviews."

"My mom used to love this place."

He smiled sympathetically. "Guess we both have issues, huh?"

She nodded. "Something like that."

He seemed to go back to his menu, but Y/N could tell he wanted to ask her something. She wasn't going to push. "So, why are you so close with Harrington? Not to pry, but almost our whole lives, you've been around him." He laughed. "From what I've seen, he's kind of an-"

"Asshole?"

He nodded. "He was always such a hardass during basketball. Not to mention, he’s so full of himself."

"Well, he hasn't had it great his whole life. Of course, he'd be an asshole." Derek tilted his head, and Y/N backtracked. "Not that that's an excuse. But even after that, after him being a major asshole, he is still one of the most considerate, kind, loyal people I've ever met. He's like a father figure to all these little shits in town; he- he's especially like a father figure to my cousin, Dustin." She looked at Derek. "I think you might know him. He's the short kid, the one whose hair is always crazy."

"Yeah, yeah. Weird kid."

"Yeah, he is. But Steve really changed last year. He stopped hanging out with Tommy and Carol, and he focused more on actually acting like himself. It's what I admire most about him."

Derek's jaw had dropped, and he had this strange sort of realization on his face. "You love Steve Harrington."

Y/N looked back up from the menu. "What did you say?"

He sat up straight and was almost laughing. "You are in love. With Harrington." He murmured to himself. "I should have known." He looked her in the eye. "What are you doing here?"

"What?"

"What are you doing here with me? Harrington is probably waiting for you, pissed off. He probably has a death wish for me."

She raised an eyebrow. "You want me to go to him?"

"Well, I don't want you to go to him, but I also don't think you should lie to yourself and him any longer. I mean, you're graduation speech was a love letter to the guy." He shook his head and almost laughed. "I'm sorry for wasting your time."

"No, you didn't-"

He nodded in assurance. "I did. We both did." Y/N tilted her head in confusion, and he continued. "Every day we spend apart from who we love, we're wasting time well spent. I mean, this was well spent, but-" He huffed. "You get my point."

"This is the weirdest date I've ever been on. I'm gonna go. Thank you. This was... enlightening."

"Anytime." She walked away, and Derek called the waitress over once again. "Can I get a bottle of Chardonnay please?"

She smirked. "Can I see some ID?"

"Never mind." He put the menu down and smiled sweetly. "Can I get a Shirley Temple?"

Y/N ran to the front of the mall, banging on the windows. The doors were locked, but she knew that Steve, Robin, and Dustin were still in the Scoops Ahoy's backroom. She also knew they would send Steve out to check for noise because Dustin was a chicken, and Robin wasn't an idiot.

She started yelling, relief flooding her senses when she saw a sailor uniform in the distance. She almost smiled at Steve before she remembered their argument. She stopped harassing the mall door and waited for him to let her in. 

He somehow looked worried and confused at the same time, swinging open the door and pulling her out of the rain without a second thought. And then he instantly began interrogating her.

"What are you doing here?"

"I-"

"Shouldn't you be at Enzo's?" Her face paled, and Steve assumed the worst. He forgot about their petty fight, and his eyes grew dark, his King Steve persona peeking out of the shadows. "What did he do? Did he- Did he hurt you? I swear to god if that loser touched you-"

She shook her head quickly. "No, no! Steve! He was great... it just wasn't going too well, so I came back to help."

He crossed his arms. "What do you mean it wasn’t going too well?"

"Steve!" She put her hand on his arm, smiling. "Relax, seriously. Nothing happened. We just realized we didn’t like each other like that." She murmured. "We realized a lot of things, actually."

"What was that last part?"

Y/N grinned. "Nothing, sailor. Let's get going." She let her hand fall from his arm to his hand, pulling him towards her. "I'm excited."

He used her hold against her, pulling her back into his arms. Her breath hitched. "You're sopping wet," he said, taking off his rain jacket. "Here. I have another coat in the break room."

She tried not to melt into the smell and warmth that instantly overwhelmed her senses and smiled softly. "Thanks."

"Don't worry about it."

They walked back into Scoops Ahoy. The back room's lights were out. Y/N rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. "Steve's fine, you idiots. Come out of your attack formation."

Dustin popped out from behind the counter. "Y/N/N!"

"Steve! We thought you got attacked by Russians."

"Nope." He sighed heavily. "Just Wilkins."

Y/N shoved him away and hugged Dustin, pulling him along into the backroom. "Let's go be spies, huh?"

Opening the door leading to the roof, Y/N waited until the last of them had gone through before shutting it as slowly as she could. Yes, it was raining, but she really just wanted to err on the side of caution when there were possibly killer Russians below them. She crouched down between Steve and Robin, watching as the delivery truck backed up to the giant door.

"Look for Imperial Panda and Kaufmanns Shoes," Robin shouted over the storm.

"What do you think's in there?"

"Guns, bombs."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "I doubt it. If anything, it's some chemical warfare. Isn't that what this whole cold war is about?"

They watched as the whistling man in a yellow rainjacket walked up to the door by two tall, armed men.

"Well, whatever it is, they're armed to the teeth," Robin added, helping exactly none of them reach peace of mind.

Steve wiped his eyes clear of water and smiled pessimistically. "Great. That's great."

Dustin leaned over the edge, trying to get a better look with his goggles. "What's in there?"

They all watched as the doors opened, and a small room full of other boxes appeared. He sighed. "More boxes."

Steve grabbed the goggles out of her cousin’s hands. "Let me check it out."

Dustin tugged them back, possessive of the goggles his mother had just gifted him. "No! Stop it, Steve!"

"Guys, seriously, cut it out."

Steve let go, and the goggles hit the building, giving the Russians an exact pinpoint as to where they were hiding. They dropped against the roof, holding their breath. Y/N looked down, her hand and Steve's grasping tightly to each other. Neither said anything and chose to ignore it so they could face the much larger problem at hand. Her thoughts immediately turned to the prospect of the Russians finding them, and she looked at everyone else, panic etched in her expression. "We should leave. Like now."

They all nodded and ran to the door. Y/N whisper yelled. "Wait!"

Robin turned back. "What Y/N/N?"

"If they look for us, they'll come through that door."

Dustin nodded. "She's right."

Steve pulled Y/N with him. "There's another door this way; come on!"

They ran through the other door, Steve closing it gently behind them. They walked quickly down the staircase, and Y/N wiped her eyes, slightly stumbling as she lost her sight. Steve held her up, pushing her hair out of her eyes quickly.

Robin laughed, nudging Dustin, now fueled with thoughts of their bombshell revelation. "Well, I think we found your Russians."

Y/N rolled her now clear eyes, her laughter void of humor. "Thank you, Captain Obvious."

taglist: @kendallroydefender @beebeechaos 

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Clone Wars/Star Wars

The Sun Swings East by kj_feybarn (+ podfic)

Over and over, Obi-Wan woke up and wished he hadn't.

Palpatine wouldn't stop until Obi-Wan had Fallen, wouldn't stop until Obi-Wan gave Palpatine a shattered galaxy in payment for his release.

He couldn't save himself, Obi-Wan had come to terms with that.

What he hadn't realized was that didn't mean there was no way to be saved.

broken surface by qigiined

"The water is not talking to you, Obi-Wan,” Feemor says without chastisement in his tone. “That’s the force you’re feeling, from the trees maybe.” The clippers turn back on. “Or a fish.” “Bones,” Obi-Wan says. The clippers turn off again. “Bones,” Obi-Wan repeats. “I want to be bones.” “You’re already bones. Where’d you get that idea?” Qui-Gon steps quietly closer to the door. “You’re scaring me, O’Ben,” Feemor says softly.

(Obi-Wan suffers from a genetic and force-based condition that makes him want to drown himself in a bog. And sometimes that bog is the shape of a sink.)

cultural ed by qigiined

PDS: so Kenobi would have been 23? 24? When the padawan came along?

WLF: so probably around 22 for conception. They need time to bake.

PDS: no one can make natborns that young.

FOX: I’m telling you all. Natborns are REALLY good at making other natborns that young. It’s their specialty.

(Cal is assigned to do some cultural education with Obi-Wan on board The Negotiator for a few days and Cody and his batch come to some understandable conclusions.)

and through the spaces of the dark by blackkat (+ podfic)

Jon's attempts to avoid a war he wants no part in are ended when Dark Woman drags him to Coruscant and straight to a posting with the Guard. He intends to keep his head down and do his work, but the mysteries around the Guard - and Fox - immediately have him in out of his depth and on uncertain ground/

Nine Worlds series (Victoria Goddard)

An Impossible Dream by SunInGlory

His Radiancy makes a proposal to his secretary. It probably isn't a real proposal...or is it?

an honorable and enviable role. by mage-pie (looselipssinksubs)

"Get up get up get up!” Something heavy landed on Varro’s stomach. He sat up just as Zerafin turned the lights on. “What?” Zerafin was grinning. The thing he’d thrown at Varro was a duffel bag. “We’re going on vacation! Get up, start packing, we’re leaving at dawn!”

That’s right, iiiiit’s… Vangavayen Vacation Time! Featuring our very favorite captive audience and peanut gallery, the highly trained and extremely professional innermost members of the Imperial Guard! Please give them your applause and moral support; they’re going to need it.

Privacy by Penguinity

Rhodin sipped his coffee. “Are us roommates cramping your style?”

“No,” Conju demurred, in a way which clearly meant yes. “I value you all deeply and am satisfied with a . . . laissez-faire . . . living situation in our retirement.”

Ludvic stirred his coffee. Rhodin peeled a banana in a desultory way. They waited.

Conju sighed. “It’s just–“ Ludvic and Rhodin leaned forward as Conju continued, “– why does he have to be underfoot all the time? Overnight?! I came down for a drink last week and nearly broke my neck tripping over a middle-aged aristocrat. It’s undignified."

Disobedience by alfgifu

You glanced down at the new paper with mild concern and felt your emotions congeal into cold terror.

It was not a standard Council paper, though it came with the usual cover slip.

It was a warrant for Cliopher’s execution.

A touch of home by alfgifu

I might have felt extremely boring coming back to the Palace through the front door in all our finery, but as Kip had pointed out, there was really no need to alarm the guards by climbing in a window when we could shock the world simply by showing up as ourselves.

[astriiformes]

hi! Sorry to bother--I am also graduating soon and I'm scouring my university library--I LOVED the list you made, do you have any other recommendations you wouldn't mind sharing? frankly you could throw a works cited page at me and I'd be happy

I've certainly got more papers I could recommend, though I can't claim they're all directly monster-related. My actual academic field is the history of science, with an emphasis on the early modern period and early print culture -- I just try to tie it to my other special interests however I can!

If you're interested in monster theory, I definitely recommend various readings on witchcraft and the occult as well -- there are significant links between the early modern witch trials/folkloric beliefs about witchcraft and some of our "modern" monsters like werewolves. Try:

Wolves, Witches, and Werewolves: Witchcraft and Lycanthropy from 1423 to 1700 by Jane P. Davidson and Bob Canino

The Saturnine History of Jews and Witches by Yvonne Owens

From Sorcery to Witchcraft: Clerical Conceptions of Magic in the Later Middle Ages by Michael D. Bailey

Witchcraft and Magic in the Nordic Middle Ages by Stephen A. Mitchell

The Specific Rationality of Medieval Magic by Richard Kieckhefer (who has written a LOT on magic and witchcraft in general)

Male Witches in Early Modern Europe by Laura Apps and Andrew Gow

If you're interested in monster studies from more of a sci-fi/fantasy angle and like reading about speculative fiction, consider:

On the Poetics of the Science Fiction Genre by Darko Suvin (really anything by Darko Suvin is a solid bet, he's a hugely influential scholar in the study of science fiction)

The journal Science Fiction Studies which has a lot of great articles and special issues (including a great one on Frankenstein!)

Colonialism and the Emergence of Science Fiction by John Rieder

For a grab-bag of odd and unconventional papers and books I've found interesting recently, have a look at:

The Soul, Evil Spirits, and the Undead: Vampires, Death, and Burial in Jewish Folklore and Law by Saul Epstein and Sara Libby Robinson

Melancholy as a Disease: Learning About Depression as a Disease from Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy by Jennifer Radden

A Case for a Trans Studies Turn in Victorian Studies: “Female Husbands” of the Nineteenth Century by Lisa Hager

Battling Demons With Medical Authority: Werewolves, Physicians, and Rationalization by Nadine Metzger

And, last but not least, I've only skimmed these last few, but as I'm currently on a huge Dracula research kick, here's a couple articles that have caught my eye:

Rethinking the New Woman in Dracula by Jordan Kistler (this one was especially refreshing to see, given the fact that many academic takes on the subject are.... bad)

Masculine Spatial Embodiment in Dracula by Julie Smith

Information in the 1890s: Technological, Journalistic, Imperial, Occult by Richard Menke

A ‘Ghastly Operation’: Transfusing Blood, Science and the Supernatural in Vampire Texts by Aspasia Stephanou

[bestworstcase]

Ancillary to the posts about wet paper bag oz: I would love to see a RWBY prequel special or something set during the great war? I would bet REAL LIFE DOLLARS whatever he did with the sword was also when he finally had to admit that Salem was right all those years ago, and it fucked him up so bad we got the weak attempt at unification via the huntsman system and his next incarnation disassociating on the regular.

I am rattling him like a cookie jar. What horrors have you seen old man.

i think about this SO much. like

The King of Vale personally led his army into battle alongside the soldiers of Vacuo and decimated the enemy forces. Crown atop his head and armed only with a sword and his scepter, he laid waste to countless men. As the sand was soaked red with blood, the Grimm came in droves. It was the single deadliest battle of the war, and legends of the greatness and terror of the Warrior King were born that day. Historians will tell you that most of these stories are nothing but grandiose hyperbole. Unusually violent weather conditions, combined with Mantle's unfamiliarity with desert combat, are likely what led to such a high death count. But whatever the reasoning, everyone bowed to the King of Vale by the time it was over. The Great War had ended. The world was ready to live under the rule of Vale. But the King refused.

laughs weakly. this is a war that began with oz rolling out a welcome mat for mistrali colonists in his own kingdom, ignoring the protestations of his own people, so desperate was he to avoid an armed conflict. (with… the imperial power busily conquering his kingdom wshgfk OZMA. PLEASE.)

ten years later he ends it doing… that. the great war broke something in him sure as sure. i think that final battle was his:

“you said we had to bring humanity together; in order to do that, we have to spread our word, and destroy those who would deny it”

decimated the enemy forces. the sand was soaked red with blood and the grimm came in droves. the single deadliest battle in a war that lasted ten years. unusually violent weather conditions. the greatness and terror of the warrior king… who laid waste to countless men and routed every army on that battlefield. even his ally surrendered.

it’s also. well. the great war. extremely pointed thing to call your fictional global war that happened 80-90 years ago, following a century marked by increasing global tensions and smaller scale conflicts between imperial powers, and is now remembered for precipitating a devastating military arms race, the complete destruction of innumerable settlements, and ending with a treaty that "redistributed territories" ie gave independence to vacuo and menagerie as new sovereign states. oh, and an indeterminate amount of time later there was a second huge war that is now remembered for [checks notes] …the genocide.

glances at modern history. ok.

glances at

this nonsense also, courtesy of general "never fought a war but rules the country that made cosplaying the great war its whole national identity" ironwood.

it was trench warfare. that broke him. king oz sat in the trenches under never-ending artillery bombardment watching soldiers die by the thousands in a miserably futile grinding war of attrition for ten years until he shattered and personally slaughtered more people than had died in any single battle in ten years of TRENCH WARFARE with the divine relic of destruction. the war to end all wars, right?

and then—if it didn’t happen within that lifetime—he reincarnated to humankind being "quite, quite adamant about centralizing the faunus population in menagerie" (😶) and consequently another major war lasting at least three years.

what horrors has he seen, indeed.

tiny tdt draft snippet because when i say i think about this a LOT… ->

“I…” Wetting his lips, Osiander rasps, “want to put an end to war.” “You’ll need to consult my sisters,” the spirit says without inflection. “Abstractions are not in my purview.” Of course. There’s a poisoned laugh caught between his ribs, a bubble of reckless despair; he shuts his eyes, and grits his teeth, and grinds out, “This war, then.” “Narrower.” “I want,” Salem, indifferent, advising him to crush those who would not see reason. Salem asking him to try. Paradise. He chokes back a sob. “To rout every army on this battlefield,” he says. “I want a victory so absolute that it cannot be answered by anything less than unconditional surrender to myself, personally. I would end this, here and now.”

he’s fine. he’s fine

[kit-williams]

Barn Anon. Bet Space Marines give other Space Marines a discount price. They know for sure which human businesses aren't to be trusted. I headcannon that Imperial Fists and Iron Warriors have construction companies of their own where the humans are more for admin and communication with human clients. They're in high demand but they'll give a bit more priority to fellow Space Marines.

Your Space Marine effortlessly plucked the heavy bag of groceries from your hands. He refuses to let you hold anything more than the carton of eggs that you're currently holding. You raise your eyebrow at the sight of an Imperial Fist moving about the back porch. Your Space Marine nudges you along, a soft hum from him as he steers you straight to the kitchen. You're aware that your own Space Marine is a bit of a social butterfly with his fellow Space Marines but this is the first time you've seen this particular Imperial Fist. They tend to stick to the south side of the state. You live in the north.

Your Space Marine puts the bags on the island, patting you on the head before he heads out to speak to the Imperial Fist. You tilt your head curiously when you see the Imperial Fist pointing at certain parts. You had off-handedly mentioned to your Space Marine that you feel like redoing your back porch now that some of the wood flooring is starting to wear down. You are aware that the porch was build a decade before you bought the house and it seems it's time for a new look for it. You didn't think he would take it this seriously.

You had included him when you looked over various contractors and at some designs online. It was only polite given how he lives here most of the week. He does disappear a few days a week but that's normal for Space Marines. He had expressed his preferences design wise but was visibly unsatisfied with the contractors you found. He had said something to you but you couldn't understand a single word. He disappeared soon after that rather one-sided conversation and later that night you heard two set of heavy footsteps. Now you realize that he found human contractors insufficient and sought to find one that was more to his standards.

When he comes back in from the back, you teasingly tell him that human contractors would be out of business at this rate. The Imperial Fist outside clearly heard as you would hear a bark of laughter from outside. Your Space Marine only shrugs. You're his human, of course he would make sure you get the best.

Post

Uh 100% I was thinking about writing this in for some of Orn trying to get a discount from another Iron Warrior on lumber in exchange for chopping down some trees on the readers property.

But you've brought it up. Thing is this goes into the business of payment if he is with a company that does employ humans then of course some sort of cash would be exchanged but it's always cheaper than human contractors but then again you need to have an Astarte to even get in contact with them.

I think there is also a side payment in terms of far more bartering on the Astarte's half as given they were so use to getting whatever they wanted they probably have their own exchange system in lore when dealing with other Chapters.

You pat the gold armor of your blue helmed Lion as he treats you like a child but you're a young adult capable of handling everything but your Astarte treats you like a child. He seems a bit nervous about things... you've done your research and you can hardly find any information on your boy except that he is very friendly with Imperial Fists.

You can tell your boy does enjoy to provide and protect as it seems he is very caring but very distrusting of certain organizations it seems. He drew a symbol on a piece of paper for her to watch out for but you tell him there aren't any symbols like that but you'll be the first to let him know if you do see it.

[starrywangxian]

here's your sign to go back to your old hyperfixations and special interests to see how they're doing :)

because i just watched the fault in our stars again after years and years. (can you believe the film is 10 years old now?!)

i first read the fault in our stars when i was 13 years old (the same age hazel was when she got diagnosed interestingly) and the book was cringey and edgy enough for my 13 year old heart to fall in love with.

i carried the book in my school bag and took it everywhere with me. i decided to stop putting it in my bag when i noticed that the edges of the paper back cover started to fold over (though that was probably more because i read it every day oops). i absolutely treated the book like how hazel treated an imperial affliction lmao.

i remember i joined tfios quizzes all the time and competed with other people. i think i was in the top 10 quite a few times lmao.

i bought copies for my then best friend and suggested that we meet up to read a page each aloud to each other. i remember that i misread the line "When he looked back at me, I flicked my eyes up to say, I win." as 'I flinched my eyes' and we both started laughing for ages about it and it became a little inside joke between us.

i would decline invitations to go play with the other neighbourhood kids because i wanted to read and reread the book again. in a way, i guess i saw it as hanging out with hazel.

i even used to text my own phone number on my red nokia and pretended i was texting hazel (i would delete the repeating message so it wasn't that obvious lol). i would tell her about my day and ask her about hers. embarassing, yeah, but i wasn't that far gone to pretend to be hazel back. i didn't think i could do what she would reply back with any justice, anyway.

i didn't have cancer then and i don't have cancer now but i have always struggled with my mental illness in a way that i could never describe. depression, anxiety, autism, adhd: always making me feel 'other' and 'different' and never understanding why. even though hazel and i had different illnesses, she described how i felt perfectly.

so if this ends up on the side of tumblr that @sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog himself frequents, thank you for creating hazel :) she was a dear friend to me in my lonely childhood <3

so yeah, dig up your old special interests and bask in that joy it gave you again but this time it will be extra sweet because of all the nostalgia :)

[firewoodwander]

Trick or treat!! Fordo17 with 🐈‍⬛ ?

Trick or treat prompts

Cipquad won’t leave Fordo alone.

He’s in the kitchen reorganising the pantry and she’s howling at him from the top of the fridge, putting herself in his field of view whenever he dares turn away from her. She’s already tried butting her head against his arm so many times he thinks he might bruise; this time when she drops down to the counters she sticks her little needle teeth into his jumper and his skin and bites.

Fordo jolts and swears under his breath.

Putting down food didn’t placate her, her water bowl is full, and she shied away when he tried to pet her head. So now they’re at a stalemate: Cipquad is occupying the counter space he was using and that she definitely shouldn’t be on, and Fordo is… at a disadvantage.

Satisfied now that she has his full attention, Cipquad leaps off the counter and trots to the door. She turns around and meeps at him. Dutifully, Fordo follows.

There used to be plants on Fordo’s living room windowsill. Just small things, leafy stems in palm-sized pots. Unfortunately his cat didn’t appreciate them the same way, and so they’ve been relocated to the floor in the corner of the room to prevent further unprovoked attack, and Cipquad has taken over her guard post on the sill as if it’s her due diligence. Now though, as she leaps up there, Fordo can see what she’s howling about.

There’s another cat on his garden wall. A big thing, bluish-grey and sort of ragged. It sits on the wall and stares right at them, and Fordo thinks he would be pissed about that too if he were a cat.

Fordo thinks he’s seen this cat before in town. It’s a memorable thing, and it was sitting on someone else’s wall the last time he walked by. It doesn’t have a collar but it also didn’t seem afraid of much of anything, unbothered by passers by and staring right at Fordo until it turned its back imperiously and strutted off down a nearby alley. And now it’s watching him again, thoroughly unimpressed, as Fordo brings out a dish with a tiny lump of tuna like some sort of peace offering.

He gets all the way to the wall before the cat’s tail twitches. He leaves it on the post by the gate and goes back inside.

An hour later Fordo’s pantry is organised, Cipquad has destroyed another felt mouse in her frustration, and the dish is clean and drying on the draining board.

It becomes a habit. On Fordo’s day off from work the cat shows up on the garden wall, Cipquad loses her shit about it, Fordo leaves a peace offering and doesn’t get any closer. The problem with habits is that they very easily become part of his routine. Fordo only likes routines because they’re predictable, so when he steps outside one morning to find the cat staring up at him from his doorstep, he stands there and stares right back like a dumbfounded plank of wood.

The cat chirps. It stands up with great dignity and saunters over to butt its head against Fordo’s ankles, winding between his feet.

Cipquad howls from the living room window, but the other cat doesn’t seem bothered at all when Fordo reaches down to pet its head. It trots off as soon as it’s had enough, back down the garden path, turning at the gate to look back once before it disappears down the road.

There’s a knock on the door the next morning. It’s notable in that Fordo only rarely ever gets visitors, and usually they message him ahead of time. It’s not the postman either because it’s a Sunday, so Fordo pushes away the deep desire to go back to bed and shuffles up to greet the stranger on his doorstep.

There’s a man. He’s about Fordo’s height, dressed in black and navy, and has a nasty scar extending from his lower lip down his chin. He’s holding a brown paper bag. He clears his throat and holds it out.

“As thanks,” he says.

Fordo has never met this man in his life. They stare at each other; the stranger doesn’t blink.

“For the cat.”

Fordo takes the bag. There’s a box of tea inside. The brand he drinks, but the flavour is one he’s never tried. Under it is a tin of Cipquad’s favourite tuna.

He looks back at the stranger and feels the corner of his lips quirk upwards. The stranger clears his throat again and nods.

“Right,” he says, and turns to leave.

Fordo watches him saunter back down the garden path, out onto the road and away out of sight.

[aladaylessecondblog]

Red Mountain Waffle House, pt. 4 ("The Hand")

Sadara kept the corprus thing under wraps. She told Jiub--but no one else.

"Well if that doesn't suck shit I don't know what does," he said through the cigarette dangling from his lips, "You okay? Gonna need me to shank you before you go crazy? When did you get bitten, a couple days ago?"

"A few months, actually," she said, "That's the strange part, I haven't had any symptoms. Not a rash or a boil or anything."

There was a pause. He flicked the cigarette, opened the baggie before him, and set it on the table.

"You got the papers?"

"Do I have the papers..." Sadara scoffed. "With the week I've had I don't think I'll ever forget them again!"

She handed over the bag and Jiub set them out and started rolling their weed into joints.

"Makes me wonder why we ever decided to come here, y'know. We could be doing pretty good just killing cliffracers."

"Yeah, and sleeping outside and in all conditions...I don't want to do that again. Ever." Sadara sighed, and checked on the ash yam stew on the stove, giving it a few stirs before coming back. "Like it wasn't bad, and this time we were choosing to do it, but..."

"But you're sick of it and want a permanent roof over your head. Even if it's just this shithole."

"Exactly. See, you understand me so well."

It was a friendship that went back to when they were both young and hungry. Easier to be poor when you had someone to watch your back and help you out when you needed it. And though they'd parted a few times due to one thing or another, they usually ended up watching each other's back again. Sometimes people thought they were dating, and she'd asked him once, but Jiub didn't seem interested. Didn't like girls, but didn't seem to like guys, either...

He was always good to pretend he was her boyfriend to put off the creeps, though.

"Yeah, maybe I'm a bit tired of it too, I'll be honest...fighting and scraping and trying to heal up from all the fights with cliffracers...like...I can buy healing potions and all, but who's to say we don't get got by a pack of them at some point?"

"So we work at a restaurant where we only get shit from people on two legs."

It wasn't THAT bad, really. The corprus monsters left her alone now, and why that was she couldn't figure out. Maybe having it made them think of her as just another one of them?

There'd be time to debate over it. She'd just have to keep an eye on it, and pray it didn't get any worse than it already was.

-----------------

"Hey, hey, Greg, how ya doing?" Jiub waved as the imperial walked through the door. "So you finally decided to join us in civilization?"

"Something like that," Greg laughed. He was a fairly jovial sort, and the one with a fairly large house (how he owned it inside the Ghostfence was a mystery to everyone) and thus the guy who held all the best house parties. To be friendly with him was always a good idea, even if they weren't entirely sure if he wasn't Sanguine's avatar or something. "You two gonna be free in two weeks? Say, Saturday?"

"What's happening saturday?"

"What d'you think's happening? We'll have ale and sujamma, but if you can bring a little green that'll be appreciated."

"Can't get ahold of any?" Sadara took his order for a waffle and some eggs and stayed at his table as Jiub went to work cooking. "Or you just want some to mellow out?"

"A little of both, it's been harder to get and Jiub's always had a way with the stuff. Oughta grow your own...or maybe you do already, in which case keep up the good work."

Sadara handed him the coffee and plate once Jiub was done cooking. "He's got a green thumb. Me...me, mine's pure black, inside and out. Except for that plant on the windowsill. The local cult leader seems to think I'm Nerevar returned because he was like that too."

"Is that so? Well, that guy's a bit isolated...he'll turn up to a party now and then, but mainly to--"

The door bell jingled and in walked a pair of ordinators. One of them same as Sadara had tossed out before, and she immediately tensed on sight of him.

"At least there's none of those things in here tonight," the mer said, "You'd probably welcome them with open arms."

She didn't respond.

Greg paid and left shortly afterwards, saying he'd give them specifics on when to turn up later. Sadara went over to the ordinators' table.

"And what will the two of you be having?"

The first one was muted, tired, and asked just for some sausage and eggs. The angry one glared up at her, "A Temple-fearing waitress would be a good thing to have, but obviously we're both out of luck now, aren't we?"

"To eat, sir." Her tone was icy, and she could see the temper broiling beneath the man's severe expression.

"Coffee, and eggs."

She took the order and walked back to her place. Shortly after, Ulen entered, and the ordinators tensed up.

"Ulen, it's good to see you again," Sadara said, "The sky looks like it's been threatening to rain all day, does that mean you expect to see..."

"Ah, not today, most likely," Ulen replied. "He has much to handle at home. Something has livened him up and we are all happier for it."

His gaze such as it was, turned to hers.

"YOU again," the ordinator snarled from the corner. When his food was ready a moment later, he was still seething. "I don't care if his money spends well, suppose the ordinators stopped coming here because you're obviously in with the Dagoths?"

"I'm not in with ANYONE," Sadara replied, "It's economics. They spend more than you anyway, it wouldn't be much of a loss."

"How DARE--"

"Can we not right now?" his partner said, "We're off duty, they're not violent, it's not worth the fight."

"The duty never ceases."

A groan.

Ulen didn't acknowledge them, and spoke instead to Sadara. "Your arm, it is healed?"

"Yes. Where did you--oh, right. He must've told you. Please tell me he doesn't have me watched."

"He DOES want to be sure his Nerevar doesn't come to harm."

"HIS Nerevar?" Sadara gave a laugh, and then not wanting to appear rude quickly added, "I'm sorry, it's just a ridiculous idea to me. Me, who's never been to Morrowind before the ship brought me here, and he thinks I'm the incarnate of Nerevar--"

"He thinks you're WHAT?"

The last sentence, spoken perhaps a bit too loud, had caught the ordinator's attention. He stood up so quickly his plate was turned over and clattered to the floor.

"The SHARMAT thinks you're Nerevar," the ordinator charged forward and grabbed her by the collar, "Now you've reached the point of outright heresy and that I CANNOT ignore."

"Get the fuck off me, you creep!" Sadara moved and kneed him in the crotch.

The ordinator let go, but slapped her with his right hand a moment later. "The Temple will know. And the Temple will do to you what they do to ALL those who think to call themselves Nerevarine!"

Sadara decked him then, and dragged him outside, hearing only a faint, "I tell him not to do this shit" from the ordinator's partner, who kept calmly drinking his coffee.

"I'm not Nerevar, but I'll damn sure kick your ass like I was!" She ducked a fireball from the ordinator and gave him another hit on the jaw. The fight that followed was confusing - she would recall afterwards getting cut by his blade, getting knocked in the head, sitting on his chest and punching his face bloody, but nothing more than that. What she did remember was going back inside to clean up.

Ulen came forward to heal the cut, and she thanked him. Gladly, the ordinator's partner left soon after, saying "he just gets like this" and both of them did not return to cause more trouble.

----------------------------------

A few days later, Sadara's black eye had come in in full bloom, and she had to get a pair of shades to cover it up. The mail tracking app said the package was due to be delivered today, and she went out to the mailbox to check.

Except there wasn't one package, there was two. One was definitely the sunglasses marked "Tiber Mart", but the other was wrapped in postal paper, tied with twine, and marked only with "A Gift" in the most cursive, flourished, show-offy handwriting possible.

She brought them both inside, and after checking that the sunglasses covered up her black eye well enough she looked to the other box. A Gift. What in the hells?

Sadara pulled the end of the twine and tore off the paper. The box was neat and expensive looking, but the scent was horrendous, and for a minute she considered tossing it out. The ordinators might've sent her a stinkbomb, or something poisonous, maybe...

Against her better judgement she opened the lid.

And screamed.

There, within the box, was the bloody, rotten, bonemold gauntleted hand of an ordinator.

[femmchantress]

What's your favorite snocone flavor?

Which famous vehicle would you want to own? (Ex: batmobile)

What's your favorite form of popcorn?

And finally what childhood memory do you always go to for a good laugh?

Lemon-Basil from Imperial Woodpecker.

The Third Doctor's Bessie. :)

Heavily salted, minimal butter. I'm not a huge popcorn eater.

One time when I was a child, my dad stayed home from work one day as his office was closed and my mom asked him to carry out several errands for her while she was at work. After picking me and my brothers up from school, my mom unlocks and opens the front door only to be bonked in the head by a roll of toilet paper. My father, who we then realized had built himself a little fort of toilet paper (he'd gone to Sam's Club and bought an enormous amount) at the top of the stairs, continued to lob roll after roll at her until she held her bag up as a shield and bolted past the stairs and into the kitchen.

It was such a silly moment but it makes me giggle every time I think about it.

[fantrollology]

Walking it Back: PT 1

Characters: Fledge, Alaska

Word Count: 2,103

uhhh i started this over a year ago! i sit on things for a while. id like to get better at writing stuff more consistently but idk im happy w how it came out! hopefully u will not have to wait as long for part 2.

if u read it ummm ty! <3

---

“Hm.” The girl's eyes studied an unremarkable intersection on the floor of the exam room, avoiding the gaze of the doctor standing a few feet from her, who pressed the door closed behind himself following his greeting. Her fingers played with the paper pulled over the examination table.

“Something the matter?” While his tone seemed as genuine as she could gauge, the question made her regret acknowledging the misnomer at all. He set a bag down on the counter across from her and brought out his clipboard from under his arm.

She shook her head.

“Please, it’s alright. What’s up?”

“Uhm,” she paused. Her feet pressed at each other gently over the side of the table. “No one calls me that anymore.”

“Oh, well what do people call you now?” he flipped to the front page of his clipboard and leaned gently against the counter, facing her.

“Uh, Fledge.”

He smirked. “That stuck, huh?”

She shrugged. The little hexagon where the tiles met remained interesting.

He shook his head at his clipboard.

“General Drakon is so cavalier about that sort of thing. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone thought that was your actual name if he was the one to introduce you. Still though, surviving this long?” He let out a little laugh. “That’s a lifelong nickname now, I’m sure.” 

He looked at her as if he were going to wait for acknowledgement, but then continued. 

“I’m not much of the nickname sort myself but, hey, I think I’m willing to make an exception for you.” He scratched something onto the clipboard.

“Okay.”

He tucked the clipboard back under his side and lopped himself down on the office stool. Its momentum gently wheeled him into the range of Fledge’s downturned line of sight.

“Do you remember me?” he asked.

She let him slide his way into her vision and then quickly found another spot on the floor to look at. She shook her head.

“That’s fine.” He waved a hand. “I’m Dr. Alcess Alaska. I conducted your entry psionic evaluation a few sweeps ago. Couldn’t have been more than an hour or two.”

Fledge nodded.

“I’m here with you today to talk about a project proposal.”

Fledge nodded.

“So, you’re aware how even though you’re stationed here, you’re actually a member of the Imperial Psionic Corps, yes?”

Fledge nodded.

“I’m aware you’ve had some training, but do you know much about what they do?”

“A little.”

“What do you know?” he asked, in an attempt to coax a more-than-two-word response from her.

“They’re…” it felt exhausting for Fledge to even think of saying a full sentence. She breathed out. “They’re all psionics, and they do stuff for the fleet.”

“That’s the jist of it, yes.” 

“But,” he raised a finger, “They’re all very specialized psionics, not helmsmen or telekinetics or simple mind-readers. They receive individual training for their abilities.”

She knew that, of course. It was the whole reason she was a part of it. Still, she nodded.

“There’s a standard timeline for progression through the IPC’s induction, but after doing your entry evaluation I found that there’s a lot of potential with your abilities that I think deserve more unique attention.”

He started to say something else, but then cut himself off. He studied her floorlocked gaze, how her fingers crushed the paper between them.

“Fledge, do you know much about psionics? Your psionics? How they work, I mean.”

Fledge shook her head.

He drummed his fingers on the clipboard for a moment before scooting across the room to grab his bag from the counter. He opened it on his lap and set a couple things on the counter as he rooted through it, then wheeled back over to Fledge. He then reached back in and pulled out a colorful plastic brain and a small container containing a few plastic lobes. He removed the lid from the container and set it on the examination table next to Fledge, then set the bag on the floor and lifted the brain from his lap.

“Alright, so, stop me if I say anything you already know. Okay?” He waited for her acknowledgement this time, a barely perceptible nod, and then removed a blue lobe from the back of the brain, that Fledge could now see was held on with a magnet.

“This is the cucular lobe. All trolls have one, but in psionics, it’s a little larger. The shape and the other lobes it has contact with can affect the sort of abilities a psionic has and how they might control them.” Fledge watched keenly as he set the small, normal lobe on the table, and picked up a larger piece of the same color from beside her. “This one is more like yours.” The strong magnet clicked the lobe into place at the rear of the brain.

“See how it curls up past this,” his finger dragged along the brain, along marigold yellow and crimson red plastic; “the occipital lobe, and over to this one? The parietal? This is why your abilities are affected by touch, why you can ‘feel’ electromagnetic energy the way you do.” He offered her the brain. She let him pass it to her and immediately began picking off the other lobes and letting them snap back into place.

“You have what we call a material-responsive M-Type ability,” he continued, watching her play idly. “You can manipulate, but your abilities are moreso characterized by their sensitivity, your extrasensory perception, rather than their ability to make drastic physical changes. More typical of ceruleans, but yours have a certain versatility, and there’s a lot of potential I believe could be accessed through some implants and, of course, appropriate training.”

He took another piece from the container, a long, thin, curved, grey piece. He held it up.

“This is a type of foci. There’s several different kinds; you may have seen other IPC members with the foci behind their ears; those are the most common. This one is an implant and mostly invisible once installed. They allow for the observation of lobe activity, enable additional cerebral pathways, and can be used to enhance psionic ability in a number of ways.” 

He gestured for the brain. She held it out to him and he snapped on the piece, which curled from the front left of the organ back and over the cucular lobe. He withdrew his hands.

“I believe that, by using enhancements to magnify your psychic perception of electromagnetic energy, you can better control the ability. Instead of blowing up televisions and feeling static, you could…. turn the lights on and off, you could…”

---

A shot fired through the skull of the troll in front of her, spattering green viscera across the dry ground at Fledge’s feet.

She hadn’t been paying attention when the olive stepped forward and raised her weapon. Some fleet officer had been talking to whoever these trolls were about whatever they were doing-- a mutiny, maybe? -- whatever. It wasn’t Fledge’s turn. Fledge knew what the signal was, she knew how aggressive these trolls were allowed to get, and she knew what she was meant to do when either of those conditions were met. She just hadn’t done it without her gloves before. The thought had distracted her. Her hands dropped from rubbing at the nodes embedded in her wrist as the body thwapped to the ground. She didn’t need to look to know the sniper's barrel was already shoved down into the dirt, the more experienced soldier berating them— Stop, that’s what she’s for.

C’mon fledgling. Pay attention. Be here.

One pulse. Forward, 170 degree arc. This will dispel incoming psionics and ballistics, but will dissipate after about three metres.

A strong enough magnetic field through the brain is enough to disrupt regular synapse operation and cause seizures. One at the door, two on the balcony. Close the circuit, an invisible spherical tie around their head, and then release. Her fingers twitched about in front of her. It was a shot of air through her nerves, crawling down behind her eyes and across her body like a cool drink of water. Her eyes hunted around for another to show themselves. When none did, her fingers ground into her palms, deaf to her surroundings until a hand met her shoulder.

“That was good. Quicker on the pickup next time, maybe,” the officer quipped while she examined the damage, then started walking, letting her hand slip from Fledge’s shoulder. “Let’s see if whoever is inside is more reasonable,” she hummed.

Fledge followed as the others behind her dealt the finishing blow to the incapacitated troll near the door, another that fell from the balcony. Her mind began to warm again. She lifted the edge of her jacket, touching the bit of green flecked onto the edges. Would that wash out?

---

Alaska waved a hand as if to catch an answer from the air “...move ferromagnetic material. Just… apply magnetic fields and induce current more deliberately, precisely.”

She turned the brain gently in her hands, her thumb ran over the implant. A piece of metal in her head?

“We wouldn’t start with the foci, since your brain is still developing, but it would definitely be a part of this at some point. For now, I think it’d be best to do more research first. Like, where and how exactly do you feel electromagnetic energy?”

He raised a hand as her mouth opened. Ah, one of those not-question questions.

“I’m sure it’s hard to explain,” he continued, “but we can observe it. Before we can enhance, we would get you some peripherals, external gear to gauge what we can.” He gestured over his arms, his clipboard now set beside her on the table. “That will allow us to finely examine the activity of your culural lobe and its relationship to your movements and nerves. I theorize that down the line it might end up being beneficial to install internal receivers in other places too, since your perception is very likely beyond what’s processed by your CL, but that can wait.”

“I have some reading for you here…” he bent down from the stool and pulled out a packet from the side of the bag. She set the brain in her lap to take it from him. “One of the documents goes over the details of this specific project, but I also included some information on focii and some articles on other MRM psionics.”

“And this—” he reached over and tapped the corner of the packet, where a small, stiff card was paper-clipped to the front. “—is my contact information, so you can message me for any follow-up questions you might have.” He smiled and his hands returned to his lap.

“Of course, if you have any questions for me now I’d be more than happy to answer them.”

She nodded slowly as she thumbed through the pages. Diagrams of brains, titles containing words she knew, others she didn’t. She had questions, she was sure, but she didn’t know what they were or how to ask them.

“None right now?”

She shook her head, not looking up from the packet in her hands.

“Alright, well if anything comes to mind, you reach out, okay? Then, when I’m back next perigee, we can go over everything again, and make a decision.”

“I’ll do it.” It seemed so obvious to her. This was why she was here. Whatever doubt she had could be addressed later.

“I like the enthusiasm,” he chuckled, “but I won’t have time to start until next perigee anyways. I’ll be ready then if you’re still on board, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You can keep the brain, if you want. I have another.” She didn’t know if she wanted it or not, but he decided for her as he lifted his bag from the floor and wheeled his chair over to the counter to put the rest of his things away.

She followed suit with her new belongings and clicked the lid back onto the container of spare lobes. The clear box fit nicely into her jacket pocket, and she tucked the packet under her arm as Alaska had done with his clipboard. The brain stayed in her hands.

She hopped off of the examination table. Her thumb ran over the implant that curled around the organ. A fleeting thought, or maybe one of those questions she didn’t know how to verbalize, tried to etch its way to the surface, to piece itself together in her mouth, but got cut off by the doctor’s voice as he opened the door for her.

“It was good seeing you again, Fledge.”

[northwest-by-a-train]

Mutual 1: I wish someone could kill me so I could be reincarnated as a saxophone solo in Al Stewart's 1991 song Year of the cat

Mutual 2: Horror keeps piling upon horror and we will live old and wrinkled in this time of horrors. The only cure is to post black and white pictures of men who have problems

Mutual 3: killing baby Caesar does lengthen the lifespan of the roman empire by ~350 years, as it dissolves into some sort of federalist-feudalist structure not unlike the Holy Roman Empire. The main difference is that a sort of loose syncretic pan-imperial polytheism is the dominant religion, leading to Icelandic temples of Isis and Ethiopian temples of Epona. As such, this timeline was spared the drawbacks of a centralized state-enforced organized religion. The main drawback is that being a furry is considered blasphemy by the vast majority of humanity.

Mutual 4: if Pendleton Ward does not make Mr Cupcake a Trotskyist I will set the cartoon network offices on fire

Mutual 5: if Serial Experiments Lain was made today they would make her cis. Well. Not on my watch

Mutual 6: Can we take a minute here and normalize arms trading? Marginalized communities need those 3D-printed untraceable ghost guns with Family Guy muzzles, I need to make a living since I was thrown out of the commune by Hannah-Arendts-Strap (message me for details), Seth MacFarlane needs people to watch season 27. But Academia will talk about Kant's white-ass categorical imperative to argue no one should sell guns. Typical.

Mutual 7: I am in your walls. Why is there lead paint on your radium plumbing my dude. You know that's not aryuvedic.

Mutual 8: I'm sorry but Robespierre was a scapegoat of most of the French revolution's atrocities, and bourgeois reactionary elements have tried to turn him into a proto-totalitarian crazed madman, but the historical record paints a much more complex picture. Which is why I don't believe he would ever whip Danton's ass like you just wrote. He would be the one wearing the ball gag. How can I make you see the truth my brother ?

Mutual 9: Arabic and Eastern European poetry have been superior throughout the late 20th/early 21st century. We also have the best cigarettes. If we keep going we can surround Constantinople in the next decade, and restore the Palaiologos to their rightful place.

Mutual 10: The callout posts are true. Reflecting on it, it was obvious that our attempt to create a secret #LiberateBelize discord channel without British people was chavphobic. We are listening and learning.

Mutual 11: Pinkie Pie could negotiate the Oslo Accords, but Bill Clinton could never bag pony Weird Al

Mutual 12: If I think about Betty Groff for more than two seconds I'll divorce my husband. I got the papers and everything. But I won't. I'm brave like that. #ChristianLove

Mutual 13:

Mutual 14: I was visited by the virgin Mary last night. Again. She told me I can't make my girlfriend pregnant like that. Again. But I know Ron L. Hubbard is with me, and it's all that matters.

Mutual 15: Mustard gas doesn't even taste like mustard. You guys lied to me. My Mac & Cheese is ruined.

Mutual 16: Stop saying my think tank advocates killing orphans. We're pro-harvesting organs in youth correctional facilities for reduced sentences !!! But again we see the pro-carceral bias inherent to Lutherans. Have you guys even read Angela Davis ?

Mutual 17: Here's my solution to the Israel-Palestine conflict: spend a hundred billion dollars for multiversal research, reach the mirror universe. Israelis get the biblical kingdom of Israel borders on this earth, Palestinians get the 1948 borders in the mirror universe. I think this is the fairest deal America can offer at this time.

Mutual 18: I tried to live the life of a restless European adventurer in Macau playing roulette and serving as a mercenary to various conglomerates. Turns out they also charge rent there. And income is taxable too. And I bet everything on Red. And I don't speak Mandarin, Cantonese or Portuguese. Help me pay for my flight home! 6¢/50 000$ collected!

Mutual 19: Yeah the canonization of Bolaño as the latest LatAm literary genius speaks to a sort of general malaise in post-colonial literature due to the collapse of magical realism as a viable tradition for meaningful political messaging. So the literature of unease and obsession and maladjustment itself is canonized, like an oyster canonizing the grain of sand that's tearing it apart. The fact that no other major voice has really appeared on the continent within the past 20 years should tell us this isn't working. Which is why the Brazilian JoJo fandom has a unique opportunity to meaningfully impact the course of world literature. #Multipolarity

Mutual 20: wow guys someone left a tray of perfectly good Mac & Cheese on a windowsill! Yummy!

Mutual 21: Did medieval surgeons pulling teeth get erections? I wouldn't normally ask this of my followers but I'm arguing about Sex Work with the ghost of Andrea Dworkin and I need hard evidence (no pun intended lol)

Mutual 22: Electro-Swing is a Belgian psy-op. I can't prove it, but I know it

Mutual 23: I'm the first neutered catgirl to be tried in a military court. But I know I'm not the last.

Mutual 24: Did you guys know you could eat olives? The thing they make oil from? I ordered three kilos of motors, so I can eat it with my roommate's Mac & Cheese

Mutual 25: Anglicans, amirite ? [Sounds of raucous applause]

[anxiously-going]

Mirror Image

This is part of draft for the AOS Mirror!verse I started back in January 2019 when I first started writing fanfiction.

Leonard McCoy readjusted the bag hanging from his shoulder for the tenth time before punching in the code to his home for the next four years. The door slid open to reveal a simple living room with a kitchenette to one side with a short hallway that led to one of the two bedrooms and a door opposite that for the other room.

He had never particularly cared for the mild fame his family had back home, but it certainly came with its privileges. Namely, getting more of an apartment than an ordinary dorm room. Even having to share the space wouldn't be so bad since there were separate bedrooms.

Len walked down the hallway to stake his claim on the furthest room. He hadn't been particularly eager to be at the Academy, but his mother had insisted and gone through all the effort to get him in on good standings, so turning up early to make sure he got the room he wanted was a small prize.

His bags hit the ground with a dull thud when the door closed behind him. He fell back against it with a small sigh.

So this was it. A bed sat in the middle of the room. To one side a closet, to the other a bathroom, and just at his elbow a dresser. His new home.

Vaguely he wondered how Jocelyn was enjoying having the house to herself. An ache started in the middle his chest and spread from there at the thought of her. He had tried convincing his mother that a simple life, in the family clinic, with a family of his own could be an honorable thing. Besides, he needed to be there for her. He couldn't leave her alone after his father's death.

But she would hear none of it. Her father and brothers had serviced in the Imperial Fleet, and so would her son.

It was a shame that Jocelyn wasn't interested in long distance relationships. She'd handed him the divorce papers along with his acceptance letter into the Academy.

Len nearly fell backward when the door swished open behind him, but a pair of hands pushed him upright and held him steady.

"Guess I'm not the first one in the dorm."

Len turned to find his apparent roommate giving a lopsided smile and offering a hand "James Kirk, Command."

"Leonard McCoy, Medical." He shook the young man's hand firmly.

"I guess you just got here too?" James asked gesturing to the bags on the ground.

"I did," Leonard confirmed. "But I'm not moving. And you're not in command yet so don't expect me to follow any kinda orders."

James chuckled. "That almost sounded believable. I'm gonna hold you to that 'yet' part though." He hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and turned and walked away.

"Hey, Doc," James called down the hall. "Dinning hall's open, you comin'?"

Leonard wore a look of bafflement as he met his roommate in the common area. "You're James Kirk."

James arched a brow at the man. "Last time I checked, yeah. And you're Leonard McCoy. Only surviving doctor of an outbreak in Georgia last year." Len bristled at the mention of home. "You're not the only one who can run a name search, pal," James finished brusquely. "People are gonna ask about it. You'd better get used to talking about it."

"It's not their business," Len answered sharply.

"They're not gonna care. You're mildly famous for it. People are gonna talk. Especially the other med students. I've got an idea," James waggled a finger at the doctor. "Follow me."

"I know where the dining hall is, Kirk," Len rolled his eyes.

"We're not going to the dining hall. You like cheeseburgers?"

Leonard followed James across the campus and into the library. "What are we doin' here?"

"Emergency exit," James answered.

"Don't those normally set off alarms?"

"Not this one." He popped the door open and ushered Len to the outside. "Welcome to San Francisco."

Leonard arched a brow. "How do you know how to sneak off campus after only one day here?"

"Family secret," James smirked. "C'mon, let's go get dinner."

Len followed uncertainly.

"When the Empire landed on Tarsus there were nine of us that survived the execution order," James started conversationally as they headed down the sidewalk. "When I heard who was on the list, and that it included me, I pulled as many of the kids as I could. It wasn't many. But the order was to be carried out immediately so I didn't really have a lot of time. The youngest was four. I held him so he wouldn't cry when we hide with the bodies when they came through to take a count. Tom and I kept the others hidden. Tom stayed with the kids and I'd go out and scrounge for whatever food I could. It was two weeks before help came. The Empire basically recruited Tom and I right out of the hole they dug us out of. They took our kids away and shipped them out without ever telling us where they went. I still don't know where most of them went. Tom... I don't know what happened to him either. I was told he washed out. Pike tried to help him like he helped me, but he just couldn't reach him. I nearly washed out for that matter, but Pike, well, he wouldn't let me go. He took me under his wing, defended me against everyone trying to get rid of me, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him."

"Why're you tellin' me this?" Len asked wearily.

"People are going to ask what happened in Georgia. It's just gonna happen. And you're going to be expected to talk about it like it was nothing, like it was an accomplishment. Because it was. You saved a lot of lives, McCoy. But you can't sound like it affected you."

Leonard scoffed. "Sure. I only watched half the town hospital die. Who's gonna be affected by something like that?"

"The attitude is a great defense mechanism, but someone's gonna see through it and then you're gonna be in trouble."

Len halted. "What do you care anyway?" he demanded, throwing out his arms.

"Because I get it," James answered calmly.

"Oh you 'get it'?" Len scoffed incredulously.

"Yeah, I do."

"Enlighten me."

"You're angry. Here's this young kid, who doesn't know the first thing about what you went through, telling you to pretend like it was nothing. Not only that, but he has the audacity to congratulate you for surviving something you had no business surviving. And if you were honest with yourself, you probably didn't even want to survive. But here he is pretending to get it, pretending to understand. Pike did the same thing to me. Except, y'know, it was some old guy who didn't really care. And at first I hated him for it. I gave him a bloody nose for it, actually. Look, you can hate me all you want, you can even punch me for it. But I'm warning you now, the way that he warned me. You will not last here, if you let it show how it affected you. I'm not saying, 'don't be affected' that's impossible. I'm saying, 'don't let them see it'. You cannot let it show. Because if you do, they'll either kick you out, or worse. They'll let you stay and let someone else tear you apart and make an example of you." James waited a minute, hoping Leonard was taking in his words, before speaking again. "Look. We don't know each other. That makes it hard to listen to a thing I say, but I'm telling you now because Pike waited with me, and I nearly got sent away. And, yeah, maybe I'd be on a better course, but I would've lost Chris. And I don't know what I'd be without him. You're drifting. The Empire is…far from perfect, but it is an anchor. And you need that right now. Or you're gonna find yourself in worse trouble."

Leonard slumped against the wall of the shop they had stopped in front of with a sigh. "I don't even want to be here."

James arched a brow. "I would never have guessed. How'd you end up here then?"

"My mother wanted me here a long time ago. Was my plan to take over the clinic one day though, so I stayed home. I wanted to stay even more after… She needed someone to take care of her. But she started talking to my uncles who'd served and their friends... I never even filled out an application. Just got an acceptance letter in the mail and was out the door a week later."

Jim nodded slowly and began walking again. "Sounds like a rough year."

"Year to the day," Leonard agreed and fell into step next to him. "One year ago today Michael Thompson walked into the E.R. with what we thought was just an sinus infection. Six months later…" He shook his head. "Nearly every patient I'd worked with that ended up sick was dead. And two of the other doctors there were sick. Three months after that all our patients were dead and me and couple nurses were the only ones not sick. At the end of the fourth month it was all over. Me and two others survived. Everyone else who stepped into that hospital during those ten months was dead."

"Sounds like survivor's guilt."

"I minored in psychology, kid, but thanks for the eval."

"You did do a lot of good though. You know that, right?"

"I know the media only tells half the story," Len answered quietly.

[quietbluejay]

Flight of the Eisenstein 4

im sorry the old horus can't come to the phone right now sexy lamp new coke horus is too busy sitting in his room alone in the dark watching violent videos and it still kills me that this was a real thing he did more than once

im hoping the emergency release switch is going to help us i assume it does but HOW does garro survive this ah

Garro tries to block out the thoughts of the bodies of the people in there liquefying and fails miserably

okay so they do also have ventilation system

TemplarWarden: the die has been cast...do they make the 9 inch charge?

meeting time Garro gathers his dudes and the ship captain to tell everyone what's going on he explains about the virus incident at least apparently it burns itself out fast so they're going to leave that compartment open for 6 hours

so they finally put everything together about Isstvan III and all the stuff people have been saying recently clicks into place but, someone asks, why isn't Garro down there Garro figures it's cause of his missing leg

Decius figures out Garro's plan since there's nothing their single ship can really do to help the guys on the ground he's going to flee

okay so it's not a great plan but it really is the best of a lot of bad options imo they got, what: - stay here and die - possible survival even if they don't end up anywhere near Terra, there's a good chance given how far the Imperium has spread, that they'll end up in Imperial space and manage to make contact with someone the die is cast fr fr this time Garro makes them all swear an oath of moment

lmao

Garro ordered one of his dudes to take care of Grulgor's remaining men he would do it himself but he needs a few minutes to centre himself

heh

"wow, the guys who are indoctrinated to just follow orders to commit atrocities, of which i've also taken part in, are just following orders to commit treason! i just can't believe it" Garro looks at his well polished speshul eagle armour and thinks about Kaleb who polished it and wants him to have some kind of recognition but alas since he's not an astartes he can't get a slot in the wall of memory so he'll just have to settle for Garro's memory Garro goes through Kaleb's small bag of belongings and finds his lectitio papers Garro:…all these little things are now adding up…like how he called Grulgor a blasphemer…like how he said the God-Emperor has plans for me…

he's having a crisis moment because of everything that's happening

o…k… there's a lot to unpack here also we're beyond all other points I dropped the book at before pale and elfin elfin…keeler…

of course this is the moment that Decius storms in

what bothers Decius so much is that he didn't have a choice here he most likely would have chosen this path if he'd had an option but he didn't garro made the decision to rebel against everything for him and now he's killed his brothers

i relate to him deeply this is now a decius stan account garro asks him to speak about what's bothering him

this is fun given it's the exact same argument the traitors used Decius: what right did you have to make that decision, you're not even a first captain Garro is like, if you'd seen the evidence I did Decius: what if Horus is right and that's when the alarms go off oh hey we're going back on the ground to see Temeter they just intercepted a garbled vox message about a bioweapon which makes him sus and then suddenly the Dies Irae which is hanging out near them, goes dead Temeter puts two and two together and orders everyone to go into the bunkers back up in the Eisenstein, Decius and Garro watch in horror as like every other ship rains death down on Isstvan III Temeter meanwhile is worried about his men, a lot of them made it inside but not all

he's currently hanging out with Huron-Fal to get everyone inside

as the virus starts getting him, he closes the bunker hole and hopes none of it got inside

;-; Huron-Fall denies the virus their deaths and detonates his fusion generator, killing them both up in orbit, Decius and Garro continue to watch in horror, and Garro explains the upcoming firestorm to Decius

over with the regular mortals who run the Eisenstein at Garro's order they sent a message to the Terminus Est saying their weapons were malfunctioning

is this really the time to argue about definitions lmao you know the imperium really shot itself in the foot with "astartes are only weapons, not people" uh oh there's a thunderhawk coming over from the Vengeful Spirit Maas panics and yells that Horus knowsssss yeah it's Qruze who disavows membership in the sons of horus now most of the people in the room think this whole thing is a trap and it's full of astartes however…

lmao yeah it's qruze and the remembrancers sindermann introduces them

dainty and brimming with grace well it's better than McNeill

she blurts out that he reminds her of Loken because he has the same eyes well i'm rolling mine

o…k… once again, romance novel, or book about evil future with space gun go pew pew

BL desperately holding back its writers who want to write large space men in romances i can't believe it but i'm rooting for BL vs the writers here

so they're going to bluntly punch their way out and escape

okay time for the plan there's some technobabble that Qruze asks them to explain sendek gets to be a nerd there's some explanation of jump points and how they work blah blah technobabble blah blah risky but possible

over to a rare typhon pov

he's also salty about still having to play second fiddle and "the dutiful first captain" but…sooon sooooooooooon (20 something odd books later…) and now his thoughts turn to grulgor who has been oddly silent typhon doesn't know why grulgor has such animus for garro and quite frankly doesn't care lol so he wants to get in contact with Grulgor but ho! the Eisenstein is moving SUSPICIOUS okay over to Maas who is ambitious and sees his future crumbling away due to Garro and is now receiving the message

yeah we know where this is going

"what did it matter if the orders Horus gave were distatesful, you followed them anyways" you know I find this whole painting of the traitors as either eeevil or the guys totally just following orders and unable to think for themselves vs the only freethinkers are pro-imperium to be er it's a choice it's sure a choice and again i know i'm banging on about this but maybe it's a choice you should think twice about making for your book when one of your first scenes literally has your protagonist killing babies and not thinking twice about the orders

LoreLover:

It's a (breathes in) ♪J U X T A P O S I T I O N♪! (That took almost the entire book to complete) The baby killing is just to make this moment of sudden clarity show just how much he has come to becoming a free thinker. (Who would most likely be stomped into the ground by Minotaurs should he have survived to 40K)

i'd believe that if it showed any kind of growth on his part at all maybe i'm just being a hater though

anyways Maas of course decides to betray them to Typhon Typhon is like "gotta tell Maloghurst immediately" "also set intercept course for the Eisenstein"

the guys on the Eisenstein note this and it doesn't take long for Maas' message to become common knowledge Garro snaps his neck uh oh they got hit over with Typhon, Mortarion isn't happy wait sorry Maloghurst too many M names with similar shapes Maloghurst: my day has been shitty already, do not make it worse oh Typhon doesn't like Mal Typhon fills him in on the situation Maloghurst: lol what are you doing, he's going to die anyways, and you'll never catch up Typhon: I just need to wound them

so the Eisenstein pulls off this risky maneuver typhon is ye typical traitor bad boss i suppose it's not that bad writing, im just not really invested here

the terminus est is too thicc they managed it wait what was i talking about oh right the Eisenstein managed to survive their weird moon gravity well maneuvre

Decius brings up that the navigator is "barely sane because of the terror of what you've asked of him" and everything about the warp storms Garro is like, huh okay this makes sense so what do we do now? luckily Keeler is here to help

so ofc Garro agrees

they jump in blindly I'm past 60%!! but yeah honestly i'd probably drop if i was reading it on my own i'm just not really interested

so of this current 60%, a huge chunk of it is literally just rewrites of the scenes from the last book just from a different perspective

into the warp we get a nice warp description annnnd there are intruders suddenly, daemons! nurglite daemons they got the Navigator adjutant and she starts babbling things and then throws herself on Garro's sword oooo it's the end of the world