#What would be the ship name for curry and mari?

[lazy-b1rdy]

Here's sum Curator and Mariella and them interacting with the other two :3

(More under the cut)

I also headcanon curry and narry being sibling but they don't really like each other

At least Stanley and mariella are getting along :)

[starseneyes]

Hey! Would you re write chenfords story if you could? 🤔

Hello, Anon! Thanks for the message.

Re-write it? As in, go back and change what has happened? I mean, I think there's an element of that to most fan-fiction. I wrote quite a bit back in my day, mostly for Alias.

But at this point in my life, it's not for me. And I think the writers have really done a lovely job, here. That's part of what drew me in... these characters have layers. This slow burn was earned. Because at no point previously were they truly ready for one another.

I know we all like to talk about Baywatch Barbie and Curried Goat Boy simply being obstacles to Tim and Lucy. In some ways, they absolutely were. But the time afforded by these diversions offered us a glimpse of what Chenford can be at its best.

Lucy and Tim were solidified a friends in Season 3, and at the top of Season 4 they had a moment that spooked them both. They could've started dating, I suppose, but I'm so glad they didn't.

Tim facing down his childhood was so important and I love that we got to see Lucy supporting him separate from any perceived "obligation" as his girlfriend. We got to see the double date while they were dating other people that solidified how made for each other they are. Their first dance was such a surprise, and so wonderfully played.

We got to see that they were made for each other before they took the leap. So nobody could ever argue, "It was only XYZ because they were dating". We saw that—without a doubt—Tim and Lucy are endgame.

I wouldn't rewrite a thing. Now, if others want to explore different possibilities via fanfic, more power to them! I used to be one of them.

But after all the Ship Trauma I have, seeing the journey of Tim and Lucy has been quite lovely. Yes, ups and downs.

But at least it's not like Star Trek: Voyager where they paired of Chakotay at the 11th hour and didn't even give us an open-ended finale. Or like In Plain Sight where Marshall simply begged Mary to "release" him as the only real indication of that multi-year ship.

Or... Or... Oh, I can name so many others.

So, as long as they don't spontaneously combust, I'm good to stay on this ride with Chenford as-is. Thanks for the message!!

[sailtoafarawayland]

Walk Me Through The Dark (1/1) Alpha/Omega one-shot

Summary: There are no guarantees that life will be easy or happy, but Emma had finally found all that and more in the form of Killian Jones, her best friend, her alpha and mate. She’d forgotten what it was to fear, to run, to have the hope knocked from her body, but she’s about to remember, and so is he.   

Rating: Explicit, read through A/N for trigger warnings, or skip to after the cut for spoiler-free

A big thank you to @the-darkdragonfly for beta reading and supporting this story! 

AO3 or FF

Author’s Note: This is a hurt/comfort omegaverse based fic for CS. It is rated E for a reason. Tags/Trigger Warnings are as follows: Attempted rape/non-con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Heavy Angst, Sexual Assault Recovery

-Walk Me Through The Dark-

Emma hung onto the rail above her as the subway lurched into motion, her long curls falling around her face and giving some sense of privacy in the crowded car. She stared down at the screen on her phone, a soft smile on her face. Tapping a quick reply to Mary Margaret with one finger, she swiped back to the previous screen, selecting Killian's name and letting go of her hold on the rail so she could send him a message. The train swayed and she widened her stance, regaining her balance. Her stomach churned slightly at the motion and she frowned. She shouldn't have eaten the curry from the food truck for lunch, it never sat well.

She tapped send and reached for the support of the rail again.

E: What are you doing for dinner, babe?

Her eyes traveled the length of the car as she waited for his response. He'd mentioned earlier that his latest overhaul may keep him at the ship yard for some late nights, but the picture Mary Margaret had sent – something simmering in red sauce with a crispy layer of cheese – left her wondering what her mate would be doing to feed himself that evening.

Her cell vibrated in her hand.

K: If I'm lucky, there will be some takeaway left in the work fridge, though I'd much rather be enjoying the evening with you, love.

Heat rushed into her cheeks as she read his words, the echo of his voice in her head. He loved his work at the ship yard, and though it had taken her a long time to realize the sincerity of his words, she knew now just how much truth was in them. Despite having a job that he'd long dreamed about, his favorite place to be was always at her side. The way he made her feel, loved and wanted, was a far cry from how she'd felt her entire childhood into her adult life.

E: I miss you too. Don't forget there's leftover alfredo at home, if you end up not staying too late.

E: Looks like MM is making lasagna.

Their apartment wasn't too far from his office, and she hoped the idea of fresh food would lure him away from whatever dried out leavings had been abandoned by his coworkers.

K: Both of those sound very tempting at the moment. Give MM and David my love.

Emma smiled and slipped her phone back into her pocket, settling in for the rest of the ride out to the Nolan's. Friday night dinners had become something of a tradition between the four friends, but things had been so overwhelming at the ship yard lately that Killian missed them more often than he liked. Luckily, his latest overhaul was coming to an end soon, and they were both hoping things would be a bit more manageable.

The car rocked again and Emma swallowed, a sudden wave of nausea creeping up her throat as they moved, something about the steady creaking of the wheels and the sway of the train making her feel sick. Honestly, that was the last time she went with spicy food, it always made her feel off, despite how delicious it was. She closed her eyes and wrapped her fingers, sweat beginning to dampen her palm, more tightly around the rail, wishing she were anywhere else as the nausea worsened, her stomach churning and cramping. A tingling warmth worked its way up through her body, spreading along her arms and legs. Another cramp twisted deep in her abdomen, and that's when it hit her.

Her heat was coming on early.

Panic surged beneath the burning heat and nausea as she sucked in a deep breath. It was too early, by a week and a half at least. She would have never dared take public transit if she thought there was even a chance...and now she was stuck on the T with a crammed car. Her eyes darted to the digital map above the door, the light that indicated their position creeping along slowly to North Quincy station. They were only a quarter of the way along, and she cursed her luck.

The doctor had warned her more than once that she could end up suffering from unmanageable heats down the road due to her early use of suppressants, but so far she'd escaped having to deal with any of that. She'd thought she was in the clear.

She could feel the instincts that became heightened during her heats start to spike, the panic only making them sharper. She needed to get off this train, the locked doors and windows and the sheer press of people triggering an instinctual need to run, to get to a place that was warm and safe, a place that was familiar – their bed at home with the blankets piled high and smelling of her mate.

She needed Killian.

She needed her Alpha, but he was already too far, and she was stuck on a train heading in the opposite direction.

Another sharp cramp twisted her insides and she bit back a whimper, adrenaline pumping through her veins and sweat beading on her skin as she shifted, stealing a glance at the people surrounding her. Almost everyone seemed unaware of her predicament, which made sense. Her heat was only just at the beginning of its climb, and it was unlikely that betas would notice much difference in the pheromones her body was producing – not this early on. Only alphas and omegas possessed the hyper-sensitive ability to pick out those scents from the air at such an early stage.

Then her eyes fell on the far corner of the car, and she saw him.

He leaned casually into the corner, but his eyes were narrowed and hard, his lips touched by the start of a smile as he realized that she knew he knew. Flexing his shoulders, he lifted his nose to the air and drew in a deep breath, his mouth twisting into a feral grin.

Emma's eyes widened with fear and she snapped her head back down, breathing heavily as a shiver washed over her body, the hair on her neck prickling. That had been a mistake, she realized, looking away – too submissive and sure to goad the strange alpha into action. She should have stared him down, and normally she would have, but somehow, being stuck in a confined space so far from her mate, her heat bearing down on her in a way that was faster and worse than normal – she was utterly terrified.

The man staring her down – she could feel it, even if she refused to look back in his direction – seemed to be a typical alpha from what she'd briefly seen. He wielded his large, bulky frame with the ease of someone used to getting their way and being obeyed, looming over the people beside him with an air of authority. He'd made a show of scenting the air when she'd laid eyes on him, and the fact that he was so blatantly displaying his interest had the taste of bile stinging sharply in the back of her throat.

She wanted to be anywhere but here.

She wanted it to be yesterday, before her body betrayed her and she was stuck in this nightmare.

Another cramp twisted in her gut, longer and sharper, her teeth digging into her lip as she tried to hold back the whine she could feel building in her throat – a call that was always answered by the reassuring rumble of her mate, except he wasn't here.

He was too far, and despite the flush of heat consuming her, she was so cold, her body insisting that she needed the warmth and security only he could provide.

She wanted to call him, the urge to do so almost irrepressible, but she knew he'd be a frantic mess, worrying for no reason. As long as the alpha in the corner kept his distance, she'd be fine – and it's not like he was crazy. Her claim mark would have been clearly visible when she turned toward him, and she knew that her scent gland was in overdrive, producing copious amounts of not only her own signals for heat, but the potent scent of her mate as well, broadcasting to any other alphas in the area that she wasn't a free omega. The guy had to know, so she felt reassured that he'd leave her alone.

She had to believe it, because the alternative was too frightening to consider.

No, there was no reason to call her mate and worry him over nothing. She had time. She'd jump out at North Quincy and grab a car straight back home. Then she would call Killian and let him know that he'd need to cut his work night short. If she was lucky, he'd already be there, drawn in by the promise of chicken alfredo.

Sweat slid from her cold grasp on the rail down the inside of her wrist in into her jacket.

She had to believe that everything would be fine, and for a few minutes it felt that way. It was the movement in her peripheral vision that betrayed that hope. The stray alpha was leaving his place at the other end of the car, people parting around him as he made his way closer. His body was tensed as he took another deep whiff of the air around him, a look of impatience on his face.

“Sorry,” Emma stammered, apologizing to the woman she'd accidentally pushed against in her futile effort to put more distance between herself and the threat the man posed.

Another shiver racked her body, adrenaline amplifying every normal inconvenience that her heat brought out – the cramps, the chills, the clawing need for her mate, and with that, the steady rush of slick that was just starting to slip from between her thighs. She wrangled with her own body, fighting for control and losing, her attention so caught up in maintaining some sort of normalcy that she didn't realize the alpha had moved closer until she felt his hot breath against the back of her neck, the air around her thickening with a sour, deep musk that was simply wrong.

She wanted to scream, but when she opened her mouth nothing came out, instead she fell forward, nearly on top of someone in the seat. She'd just managed to pull her feet back beneath her when she felt a firm hand wrap itself around her bicep, hauling her backward.

“Now, now, Omega,” the man chuckled close in her ear, the heat radiating from his body making her want to vomit. “Seems like you need some help.”

“No,” she ground out, almost unable to hear her own words, the hammering of her pulse in her ears drowning them out. “No. I'm claimed.”

She tore herself out of the man's grip and moved quickly toward the small circle of space near the door, uncaring of the people she elbowed or pushed aside to get there. The map above her was starting the blink, the little bulb beneath N. Quincy Station finally lighting up.

Thank god.

With any luck the man had taken the hint and wouldn't risk making a scene. At this point, there had to be at least one or two others on the car aware of what was happening, and there was no way any sane alpha would risk the trouble he could get into for pushing himself on a claimed omega. She hoped – but her heat always gave her tunnel vision, and the only thing she could think of was Killian, of how badly she needed him and how she'd never felt more vulnerable than in that moment.

The train finally slowed to a stop and the doors slid open. She'd never moved more quickly in her life, shoving aside the few people that tried to cut her off as she bolted from the train, never even hearing the muttered curses a few commuters send her way.  

Her vision blurred in time with her heart, pinching and expanding as her heat slipped into the next gear. She stumbled forward and leaned heavily against a concrete support not far from the train as another cramp jolted through her core, leaving her nerves tingling in pain. She chanced a look back through the thinning crowd as the doors slid shut, but she didn't see him in the station.

Fearing what she might not see, she looked into the window of the car, but she couldn't make out his bulk there either. He wasn't on the train, but she hadn't seen him in the station either. She would have noticed.

The wave of nausea and cramps passed and she pulled out her cell, punching in Killian's number, her breathing echoing in her ears as she waited for the call to connect. He was at work, and she hardly ever called him there, so of course he picked up immediately, concern tainting the voice she'd needed so desperately to hear.

“Emma, is everything alright, love?”

Hearing his actual voice broke something in her, the wall she'd been holding up out of sheer determination, needing to believe that everything would be fine, that the alpha on the train was just going to forget her – but there was a small, niggling part of her brain warning that she would have seen him in the car if he'd stayed, if he hadn't followed her out.

“Killian,” she whimpered, every bit of that fear communicated through the tremor in her voice, in the way her breath fell in short pants as she moved farther out of the station, her eyes darting to the dark corners around her as she hurried toward the back parking lot.

“Emma,” he rushed, his voice laced with dread. “Emma, where are you? What's wrong?”

“My heat, it's early,” she muttered. “I was on the train when it hit. It's bad...”

“I'm coming to get you. What station?”

She nearly dropped the phone as another cramp rocked her, more slick cooling her thighs and dampening her jeans, her breath cut short as she struggled upright again.

“Emma!” Killian snapped just as she brought the phone back to her ear. “What station, Emma?”

“North Quincy. Killian...there was an alpha on the train.”

She could hear the sharp intake of his breath, something in the background dropping to the ground.

“Emma, I'm coming. Can you stay where there are people?”

“I don't know if he followed me,” she admitted, finally saying the thing she hadn't wanted to confront aloud. She hadn't seen him as the station emptied out around her, but there was no denying the odor of his musk that still drifted toward her occasionally. She wanted to believe it was lingering from where he'd wrapped his sweating hand around her arm, but she couldn't be sure. “There's no one here,” she whispered, blanching when she finally realized how far she'd walked in her daze. “I'm in the parking lot. I was gonna grab an Uber home.”

“Are there any cabs? Any cars, love?”

“No, it's so empty, Killian. There's no one here...”

“Stay on the line with me, Emma. I'm coming – right now. I'm on my way.”

Her mate's voice was wrecked, cracking with fear that she knew he was trying to keep at bay. In her gut she knew he was probably more frightened than she was, because she at least had the luxury of her heat muting everything it didn't deem important, but he didn't even have that. Entwining with hers, his fear only made her desire to burrow into their bed that much stronger, everything other than her need for him and a safe place dimming slightly. She wanted home, nestled in warmth with his weight on top of her. She'd be so full and sated, content with him curled around her back...

“Emma.”

Killian's voice broke through the fog, strained but firm, and she found herself humming in response, his voice sending a pleasing vibration through her body.

“Omega!” he snapped, and her purr turned into a whine at the sharp tone of displeasure, but his attempt to pull her back to reality worked, and some semblance of clarity came back to her as she hurried further into the parking lot.  

“I'm here – I just...it's bad, Killian. It's coming fast and hard.”

“Just stay with me, love. Look around, do you see the alpha from the train? Did he follow you?”

She turned in place, trying to focus on her surroundings, the sidewalks and the slight glow of the lobby in the empty station, the parked cars and streetlights that cast wide circles of light across the pavement. She didn't see him, but there was this feeling, this warning in her gut that she'd learned to trust.

“I don't see him, but I think...oh, god, I think maybe he did. I don't know. I'm scared, Killian.” She stumbled backwards over the concrete lip of a planted median and grabbed onto the mirror of a car to steady herself. She needed to get farther from the building, someplace dark and hidden and safe – someplace he wouldn't see her. “I have to get out of sight. Maybe he'll just give up...”

“Can you get somewhere with people?”

“Not without going back through the station to the front...there's no one here,” she whispered, the tiny, logical part of her brain still working thinking how insane it was that the parking lot was this empty, like all of her bad luck had saved itself up for one day. “He could be inside still, if I try to go back.”

Just as she was threading her way between two vehicles, her eyes still locked on the station, she saw the silhouette of someone large approaching the doors she'd left mere minutes before, and she knew it was him. Before he could spot her, she dropped to the ground in a crouch, ignoring the sharp cramp that twisted in her gut with every ounce of determination she had left, gritting her teeth and moving farther through the parking lot.

“He's here,” she whispered, sliding her back against the front wheel of a car, her already soaked jeans pressed against the damp pavement. “He's here.”

Everything slowed, her heart beating like a dying drum against her chest, her breath shallow and drawn out on a tremble. She tightened her grip as her phone nearly tumbled from her sweat-slicked hand, her mouth dry with the taste of bile and metal.

He was going to find her. He would find her, and there would be nothing she could do.

The pain in her stomach had doubled, her body caught between fear and desperation, and she knew she wouldn't be able to stand, let alone run.

“I'm coming. I'm almost there, I promise. I'm not going to let him hurt you, okay? Just stay quiet, love. Please, just stay with me, Emma.”

He was too far, so far.

“I'm here,” she breathed. “Killian...I'm so scared.”

For a moment there was nothing more than the sound of his wrecked breathing and her quiet pants. Her hearing was sharpened, but she didn't hear any footsteps, didn't know if she even would over the rapid flutter of her pulse in her ears. There was a chance, if she had any luck left, that he'd glanced out the door and hadn't seen her. Maybe he was gone.

She exhaled and the air around her finally shifted, a gust of wind sweeping over the lot and cooling her heated skin. She almost sighed, the relief it brought making her forget for a second that she was drenched with slick, feverish and freezing at the same time – but then she smelled him, the alpha from the train.

He was close, the scent strong and just starting to deepen with notes of an alpha in rut, but nothing about it was heady and intoxicating like her own mate's. It was all wrong, and something feral in her snarled, wanting nothing to do with the male following her.

“Killian,” she broke, her whispered words nearly a cry, tears mixing with sweat as she realized her time was up, her vision blurring.

If she could smell the alpha, then he could smell her.

He would find her.

“Emma, I'm so close. I'll find you, I promise.”

“Killian, I love –”

Her phone clattered to the pavement at her feet, her words stolen as a strong hand grabbed her arm, ripping her up from where she'd been hiding. A pained yelp flew from her mouth as her shoulder twisted painfully, the world spinning as she was pinned against the hood of the car, a heavy body covering her back.

Her attacker's face pushed roughly into the crook of her neck, scenting her with a groan. She shuddered, squirming beneath him, her cries muffled as the suffocating weight of his arm pressed into her face. She sucked in meager, burning gulps of air, vomit rising in the back of her mouth as his tongue swept over the claim mark on her neck.  

“You really gave me a chase,” the alpha groaned, his hips rutting against her backside, thrusting her own sore and cramping body into the wheel well. “I like a good chase though, and I've never smelled anything like you before.”

Twisting as much as she was able, she latched her teeth into an exposed section of his hand, her stomach lurching as the taste of blood filled her mouth, his angered snarl cutting across the dark parking lot. For a brief second the pressure eased and Emma hoped she might have a chance, but before she could even draw in a full breath he was back on her, changing his hold and wrapping his bloody fingers around the back of her neck instead. Cold air whipped between their lower bodies and she screamed as his other hand moved to her jeans, her knees banging against metal as she struggled.

“You don't know your place, Omega,” he growled, enjoying her whimper of pain as he pushed her more forcefully against the car, the sound of his zipper making her freeze. “I'll teach you. You'll thank me too. By the end you'll be begging for my knot.”

He kept talking, but his words were slipping away, everything moving farther away – even the piercing noise that Emma thought might have been her own screams, but she didn't know. She couldn't breathe, let alone scream. His fingers were tugging at her zipper, the wet, stubborn material of her jeans scrunching slowly down her hips.

She fought, struggled through the heavy fog settling around her. She didn't want this. It was all wrong. Not her mate, not Killian.

Then the world collapsed around her, lights and sounds finally folding into nothingness like a house of cards as her attacker grew more impatient, her body rocking against the car with each jerk as he struggled to lower the soaked material down her body, her position making it near impossible for him to get the jeans low enough with one hand.

Everything felt so distant, her breath on the hood of the car spreading like smoke and then fading away.

Then in a sudden rush the world snapped back to her, the hot weight against her back and fumbling hands torn away – the sound of something crashing into metal. The sound of a struggle as something was dragged across the pavement, grunts and curses and the sound of a fist hitting something over and over. There were voices now, shouts that come to her like a light through the fog. The sound of her jacket dragging against metal as she slumped to the ground. The sound of her sneakers pushing back gravel, and then the sound of her own voice as her knees hit the pavement.

“Killian,” she rasped, smelling him before she saw him, movement and light and clarity returning to her just as he rushed to her side, his blue eyes shining with tears and his hand, bloodied and swollen, moving to cup her face as he pulled her from the ground, as if she weighed nothing.

To him she never had.

She wanted to cry, finally enveloped by the heat and the scent and the person she needed, her hands twisting in his shirt as she strove to somehow get closer. Sensing her need, Killian shifted her carefully, juggling her in his arms as he shrugged his jacket off, draping it over her and shielding her in safety and comfort. His sweat and musk were soaked into the material, his scent flooding her, calming her frayed nerves and the part of her that still wanted to jump and kick at every noise reaching her ears.

His body was shaking with adrenaline, the tremors vibrating through her. She nestled against him, rubbing her cheek and neck along his skin in the way she knew would stir her own scent gland, easing his worry and calming him. She felt him settle around her, but then he started to move, growling out something unintelligible – it was then that she realized there must be people standing nearby. He paused and she clung to him tightly, his arms responding in kind. Fear crawled along her spine at the thought someone might be trying to separate them. From a gap in his jacket she could see the flicker of lights, red and blue against the metallic sheen of the cars. She knew he must be talking with a cop, that help had come, but she couldn't focus on the words.

Now that she was where she should be, the reality of her heat was falling back over her like a familiar weight.

The gentle swagger of his body resumed and there was the sound of a car door opening – a brief moment of terror when he let her go, her response immediate and frantic, but then he was back at her side, scooping her from the seat and back into his lap as he barked their address at whoever was driving.

The car pulled away, the fog of fear lessening and eventually falling away from her entirely as she basked in the comfort that was her mate, his arms wrapped solidly around her as he whispered her name over and over into her hair, his fingers caressing her sweat-soaked skin and soothing the writhing need inside of her, wordless promises that she wouldn't feel aching and empty for long, that he would take care of her.

~ * ~ * ~

She isn't sure how long the trip back home takes, but every moment she slides further away from the trauma she'd been put through and into the instinctual need that feels like it just may rip her apart. She's bathed in the scent of her mate – the deep, spicy musk heavy on his skin, laced with notes of sea salt and sweetness and something unique only to him. It's everything she's ever needed. Adrenaline and fear had triggered his rut in the same way they'd worsened her heat, and the familiar intoxicating tang that it edged his scent with was driving her wild with need, slick pooling once more between her legs as she core throbbed violently.

Her attack seems so distant, and far less important than finally getting into the privacy of their own home, to the place where her mate can soothe her and give them what they both desperately need. She wriggles in his lap, unable to hold back the needy plea that she presses into his skin, delighting in the low growl vibrating through his chest as he tightens his grip. Words are snapped at the driver and then Killian is tipping them both to the side as he digs into his pocket. A moment later the car slows to a stop and he's tossing something onto the front seat before easing them outside, her body still caged tightly within his arms.

His jacket is still draped over her, his arms holding it in place, but the collar had settled around her neck and she looks up into his stormy eyes, his pupils blown-wide, just as surely as her own are. There's an unquenchable need there, but below it she sees the fear, the regret and guilt, the anger. Her fingers drift up and cradle the tense line of his jaw, stroking until his muscles unclench, hoping he understands that everything is alright, everything will be alright.

They're together, and she's never felt more safe than she does right now.

He doesn't put her down, not once, despite the struggle it gives him in getting into the apartment, but she doesn't want him to, doesn't think she could stand to be separated for even an instant. She knows there are a lot of things to be said, to be asked, to be cried over, but right now she can't think past tearing off all of the layers that are keeping them apart.

They don't make it farther than the entryway, the door slamming shut behind them as he fingers the offending material of her jacket, the stench of the other alpha still wafting from the wool into the air. When he peels it carefully from her body, clearly resisting the urge to tear it from her, she sighs in relief, shrugging off the weight of it as he tosses it violently across the room.

Killian normally loves taking his time with his mate, using his fingers and mouth to bring her to completion before finally giving in to the crushing need to fill her and knot her, but her need is too great right now, too desperate, and his sudden rut is making it near impossible for him to walk her to the bedroom, let alone take care of her in the way he wants – to sit her down and ask what he can do, what she needs – he knows that she needs this, and he'll give it to her, to them both.

“Alpha...” she begs, suddenly falling to the floor at his feet, her chest pressed against his legs as she rubs her cheek against his crotch, her fingers trembling as she struggles to undo the button of his pants “...need you, Alpha.”

The air between them is thick with the mix of their scents, his blood pounding in his ears, need and fear and desire rolling together like some wild thing, the sweet scent of her slick so strong he can taste it on his tongue, wants to taste it on her soaked flesh.

“Omega,” he rasps, his vision sharpening to see her and only her, his cock hard and throbbing and every instinct in his body telling him that his omega needs him, that only he can give her what she craves. His hands settle tightly on her shoulders, turning her gently on the entryway carpet. “Present for your Alpha.”

Small, expectant whimpers tremble from her throat as she drops to her belly and slides her knees up behind her, her fingers hastily grabbing her rumpled jeans and pushing the sodden material over her ass and down her thighs, wriggling her legs to get them to her knees as an overpowering wave of her scent plows into him.

The sight of her sex, swollen and exposed, presented so wantonly in the air for him has his knot swelling at the base of his cock, his pulse racing as he shoves his jeans down his own legs and kneels behind her, holding the beast in him at bay so he can snatch one last human moment before he's lost completely, burying his mouth in her folds and greedily lapping her juices up, his tongue sweeping every inch he can reach before he pulls back with a growl, images flashing through his head – another alpha's hands on her, another male scenting her, imagining what she would feel like.

Somewhere in the back of his brain he knows that this isn't about that, but gods he needs to feel her to know that she's really there, that they're both here and he made it to her in time, that he didn't let her down completely when she needed him most, that she needs him in this way just as urgently as he needs her.

“Emma,” he whispers, her excited pants driving him on as he pulls back and hovers behind her, the swollen head of his cock throbbing against her scorching folds as his hands settle on her hips, “my Omega...”

“God, yes, yours, Alpha, always yours...”

“Mine.”

And then he's burying himself inside of her, her walls seizing around him the instant he does, her cries of his title and name muffled in the carpet as she gyrates her hips, trying to impale herself further. He wants to savor that first, heavenly wave of pleasure that sinking into her always brings, but the beast inside of him is unrelenting, needing to remind the both of them that she is his, and he is hers. Everything other than the ecstasy of their joining and her delicious noises falls away from him, lost beneath the haze of instincts he can't escape – his hips pistoning as he drags his cock from her grasping channel and thrusts back in, slick running freely from his omega and soaking the floor beneath them as she begs and pleads for all of him.

“Is that what you want, Omega,” he pants, the wet sounds of him pulling out and driving back into her filling the air, her firm ass bouncing as he rams into her again and again. “You need your Alpha's knot?”

“Please, Alpha, please, need it so bad,” she mumbles, her words running one over the next as she lets out a moan and shudders around him, so close to falling apart, but needing the fullness of his knot stretching her. “Just yours, just yours, Alpha...”

She tries to struggle upward, unable to shake the urge to feel her alpha covering her completely, his chest pressed against her back as he thrusts into her, claiming her entirely and leaving no inch of her body unmarked by his firm hold and powerful scent. She's shaking, her limbs barely able to support her own weight as he continues to plow into her, his knot fully swollen and catching the edges of her opening with each push deeper, but he senses what she needs, that the separation between them is too much, and he pauses for a second to move his hands from her hips, grabbing her arms and yanking her upper half closer, their two bodies bent together as he pulls her tightly against his chest, swallowing her small frame entirely as he holds her up, his rut bringing with it a strength that doesn't answer to weariness, but only to need.

His grunts are hot and rhythmic against her neck as he moves within her, his teeth sharper and gently razing the swollen gland that already bears his claim mark, sweat running from both of their bodies and sliding between them. Still riled by the threat to his omega, the beast inside of him is wild and frenzied, driving him to mark her again, to claim her once more – the only thing that will sate him. Beneath him her whimpers spiral into something keening and primal, her legs trembling despite the fact that he's holding both of them suspended as he thrusts, and he knows she's almost there, can feel her swollen walls spasming around him.

He slides one hand down her stomach, changing their angle and forcing himself deeper, his knot brushing further within her swollen walls as they begin to pulse around him.

“Mine, Omega...” he growls, completely lost to the beast as she keens beneath him in answer.

She is his, always his.

“Need it, need it, Alpha, please,” she cries, her walls pulling at the throbbing edge of his knot with each teasing thrust. “Need to feel you fill me up, make me yours, please...”

“Open up for me,” he pants against her skin, his teeth gliding down to clamp around the swell of her shoulder. He moves his hand lower and rubs against her clit, his calloused fingers pinching roughly, his words like liquid sin rolling over her, his cock thick and hard and stretching her in all the right ways, everything flowing and surging together in a brutal wave that crashes over her all at once, her vision fading and slipping into darkness as she shakes beneath him – the familiar sting of his teeth marking her shoulder a vibrant shock of blinding light beneath her lids, drawing every last pulsing moment of rapture from her body.

He thrusts into her one final time, his own peace finding him as he forces the swell of his knot into her tight sheath, the coil in his gut snapping and exploding outward as pleasure rocks his body, her walls milking every last drop of his seed – the beast inside of him quelled.

They come down together, Emma collapsing as he releases her shoulder and cushions her fall with his arms, stifling a groan at the pull between them where he's tightly joined with her still. He carefully maneuvers them to their sides on the damp carpet, Emma's breath leaving her in a gasp as the movement shifts him within her slightly, her walls shivering around him and drawing a last spasm from his still hard member.

“Killian,” she whispers, her voice tired yet serene, her head rolling against his chest so their lips can find one another. “Alpha...”

There are a few blissful minutes where their bodies breath as one, sighs traded between their lips and fingers tracing heated skin, but then the fog of need disperses and the weight of the evening falls back onto them, her body shaking in his embrace.

“Oh, love,” he murmurs, wishing he could pull her more comfortably into the safety of his arms, or that he’d spared a thought to getting them to the bedroom before they’d joined. 

She reaches for his hand, pulling it to her lips and pressing small kisses into his skin, her tears running along her cheeks and into his palm as she weeps. He tries to hold and comfort her as best he can, his own tears darkening her hair as he presses her closer, whispering soft noises between them. He wants to tell her how sorry he is that he wasn’t by her side, that he hadn’t been able to prevent that monster from ever laying a hand on her, but he knows saying the words won’t make them true, and the last thing he wants to do is burden her with his own failings. With no words strong enough to soothe the hurt that’s been done to her, he simply offers what he can with his presence. As soon as their bodies slip apart, she’s turning into him, burying her face in the warmth of his chest and sighing into his embrace, neither of them sure of the next steps to take, or where those steps might take them.   

~  * ~ * ~

It was never going to be easy – taking broken things and making them resemble what they once did never is, but its almost impossible when a new, jagged memory sits among the rest, waiting to find its place.

It wasn't easy the first week that swung violently between frantic couplings and emotional upheaval, a man and woman in uniform sitting opposite their couch as Emma recounted what happened, her hands gripping Killian's like a lifeline. He sat on the edge of the cushion, his body slanted between her and the police. Still mid-rut, his instincts to protect and shield her were at war with the man who understood she needed to tell her story, to do what she could to put the monster who had assaulted her behind bars.  

It didn't get any easier the next week when her body finally gasped and released its need, her heat dissipating and leaving her an empty, broken shell that every happiness seemed to run straight through, spilling on the floor.

And none of the hours, or days, or weeks that came after were better. She'd wake at night with the memory of hands on her arm, pressing against her neck – the wrong hands – but there was never more than a second of panic before she was wrapped in the rightness that was her mate, her fears soothed if only for a few moments.

It wasn't easy when she sat on the couch with her therapist, sometimes talking, and sometimes saying nothing at all, but always wondering if those pieces she'd been broken into would ever amount to the strong, capable woman she used to be, or if that one dark piece meant they'd stay forever on the floor, waiting for the next blow that would crush them into an even finer dust.

It wasn't easy for Killian either, not the first week when he bent to the instincts they were both driven by, man warring with pure, primal need, unable to do anything but give in, but fearful that it was too much too soon – both the man and the beast left rabid with fury when the police informed them that while they suspected her attacker had a similar history in other cities, without corroboration or a record, he'd most likely be able to bargain down to a slap on the wrist.

It didn't get any easier after their rut and heat ended, reality slipping through their doorway as they searched for a new normal that didn't disturb the broken pieces that littered the floor and met them each day in the mirror. Killian confided that he'd decided to walk home for dinner when she mentioned the leftovers, that if he hadn't, if he'd decided to stay at the office, he was terrified to think of how much longer it would have taken him to get to her – how one little decision had meant so much. What other decision could he make that would be the wrong one?

None of the hours, day, or weeks that followed were better, waking from his own nightmares to comfort his mate, images he'd never forget still etched behind his closed eyes as Emma shuddered in his arms – the police holding him back from a scene he didn't want to see, Emma bloodied and broken on the ground because he'd taken too long to reach her, because she was a fighter, because he'd failed her.

He'd finally agreed to see someone, to try to find a way just as Emma was, but even then the weight of fixing things felt like a burden he'd crumble beneath, one infinitesimal crack away from shattering. How could he take the guilt, the anger, the resentment, the fear and wrap them up neatly into something that wouldn't drag him down with each step he took? How could he be there for Emma if he couldn't hold himself up? How could he forgive himself?

It wasn't easy, and it took more days and months than they could count, some of them passing in moments of brightness and others lingering like a sickness they couldn't shake, but they had each other. They had help, and gradually, like seasons shifting, the minutes between dark moments grew a little longer, the days between nightmares stretched.

It was months before they took anything but a car to get around Boston, and even then never alone. Emma still hated confined spaces, leaving the doors open to every room she was in, even at work or home, and neither of them were as comfortable with long absences than they once were. When Killian mentioned a transfer to a small ship yard in New York, Emma could see through his reassurances that he would be happy there. She knew his heart, and she also knew hers, so she knew it wasn't right for them.

This was their home, and she wasn't going to let that monster take it away from her, from Killian, from the future they'd always envisioned here.

So they fought for it, through the days that were easy and the ones that weren't, which a year later were few and far between, and on the day that Emma told Killian they would need to move his office out of the spare room, it had never been easier to forget that brief moment of darkness in the face of so much light and promise.

And on the day they painted it a beautiful sea-blue that peeked through the slats of the crib Killian had put together himself, they barely ever thought of all those broken pieces – the few that still lingered were familiar and softened by time, as ingrained into the foundation of who they were now as anything whole – instead, they chose to look ahead to where there was a happy beginning to a new story – and above all else, there was Hope.

[beyondthecosmicvoid]

~Henry VII: The Red Dragon’s Unlikely Triumph~

Henry’s victory to success is simply amazing due to how far down he was in the line of succession -if he was at all! Of all the Tudors, and don’t get me wrong I love them all! He had the most adventurous life! His life is the stuff of movies and you’ll see why. Henry was born to Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond and Margaret Beaufort, heiress of Lancaster in Philippa Gregory’s words. But she was far removed from the line of succession! The Beauforts derived their name from a castle John of Gaunt had in his possession in English occupied French territory. John of Gaunt married three times, the last to his mistress Katherine Swybford. When they married their children were already grown up but by no means less ambitious. In an effort to ingratiate himself with the shifty king Richard II, John betrayed many of his comrades and persecuted anyone who stood against the king, his nephew. In return for his good services, Richard II legitimized all the Beauforts but that’s it. No say if they were inthe succession or not. Later after John died, his firstborn, Henry Bolingbroke ascended to the throne after he deposed Richard. He didn’t overturn Richard’s legislation but added a new restriction: The Beauforts were legitimate in the eyes of the law of men but due to their revious bastard status they were excluded from the line of succession. So bye-bye ambitions. By the time Henry IV’s grandson had issue, this changed altogether. Their descendants were still seen as progeny of a bastard branch (albeit legitimized) of the House of Lancaster but their status had changed overnight as support build around the Duke of York and his Neville relations (who also descended from the Beaufort line, but through the female line). Henry VI betrothed his young relation, Margaret Beaufort to his half brother Edmund Tudor. He was thirteen years her senior and while it was common for women to be married at a young age, people still found it disturbing because the groom didn’t wait for her to grow up. As soon as she was 12, he married her and the next year she was pregnant.Edmund and his brother Jasper had supported the Duke of York on various occasions but when the conflict escalated to war, the Tudor brothers sided with their kin. Edmund was captured during battle in late 1456 and died in attenpts to escape, possibly of sickness. Margaret , thirteen at a time, was already a young widow and expectant mother. She feared for her safety and the safety of her unborn child so she started a dangerous sojourn to Wales, to Pembroke castle where her brother in law resided. There, she gave birth to her only child, a boy she named Henry.Henry did not have a lonely childhood like some Ricardians and fiction writerss love to depict, nor was his mother a crazy fanatic. She was the same as the rest of the women. Religion was not separate, it was part of women’s lives, especially the adoration of female saints and the virgin Mary from whom women kept relics and images to pray to so they could be safely delivered or to protect their young. Of this latter cult, Henry became a firm follower, worshipping the image of the blessed mother with the same fervor as his mother. Likely, the little boy had childhood companions like David Owen, the illegitimate son of his grandfather by an unknown mistress. In spite of her second marriage, Margaret was allowed to visit her little boy and spend hours teaching him, but then her fortunes changed when Edward Earl of March forced the Lancastrians to flee and was declared king by popular acclaim in March 4 1461. Margaret and her new husband now had to curry favor with the new regime and to prove their loyalty, they had to let her son go. Edward saw Henry Tudor as a potential threat and to neutralize this threat he gave his custody to a loyal Yorkist, William Herbert and his wife Anne. They raised Henry as if he was one of their own, and he had the company of the new Earl’s other wards. But Henry knew that a prison made of gold was still a prison. One mistake from his mother, his guadians or worse, his runaway uncle and he would be dealt with.After the Lancastrian Readeption which only lasted a year, Jasper Tudor was forced to flee yet again. This time he took his nephew with him. The deaths of every Lancaster made Henry a potential threat. Every male Beaufort was also gone. Margaret had to let him go once more, this time she would not see him for another fourteen years.Bad weather brought them to the court of Francis II, Duke of Brittany. There he continued his education, by the time of Richard III’s accession, he enjoyed the company of many English exiles, among them the formidable and staunch Lancastrian loyalist -Earl of Oxford. It was in Brittanny, that December of 1483 after it was clear that the princes were gone for good, that he made a promise to marry Elizabeth of York and become King of England, thus uniting both bloodlines, the Houses of York and Lancaster into one.The next year and a half he spent his time planning, borrowing money and now in the court of France, currying favor with the French king. He had tried to invade England but failed. What made Henry think, the French king and others told him, he could succeed? But they didn’t know Henry. He was by now an educated, cosmopolitan young man who was also confident that god was on his side. On July 29 1485, Richard III gave the seal to Barrow, one of his officials to carry out his orders in the counties nearby and prepare for war.To be fair, Richard III was the most experienced soldier here. He had known the horrors of war since he was very little and his life parallels Henry’s but unlike the latter he had been participant in many military campaigns and had the entire North at his disposal. Henry had mercenaries, disatisfied English exiles, Edwardian Yorkists and most of Wales with him, but that was not enough to beat Richard’s armies. On August 7, Henry’s ships docked on Milford Haven. According to Fabyan when he disembarked he knelt and thanked god, reciting the Psalm 43: ‘Judica me deus & discern causam mean’. -Judge me, Oh god, and distinguish my cause. The following days he spent recruiting, some of Richard’s most staunch supporters defected to Henry, others refused to fight and just stood by as the two armies clashed on August 22. Others like his stepfather, chose to intervene in his favor only when the tide turned against him. After William Brandon, his standard bearer was struck down, Stanley and his brother with his armies charged down, and with their combined forced Richard’s was cut down. Richard, according to various sources screamed 'traitors’ and refused to go, instead seeking to confront Henry, but he never got to. The enemy got to him and he was forced down from his horse and minutes later, killed. It was a glorious day for Henry Tudor, now Henry VII. He had won against all odds, but the war was from over. Henry would face many pretenders and plots against him, his mother knew and she cried tears of fear, likely anticipating all her son would have to endure. He died in 1509 after twenty four years of reign.

In relation to Paul Atreides from DUNE MESSIAH onwards …

While DUNE, the first published novel of Frank Herbert set in the Dune universe is the book every reader should start with; DUNE MESSIAH is the most crucial one of ALL Dune novels because rather than reading like a science fiction novel or another inclusion into this space opera, it reads like a narrative tale that is chronicling events that already happened. For a history buff, this novel is the deciding book in the series that sets the tone for the rest of the saga. Additionally, aside from being a deconstruction of the hero mythos, it is also a critique of history. From the onset, the book starts with one of many historians being killed simply because he wanted to tell the truth. But obviously, Muad’Dib, the grand emperor Paul Atreides with his ongoing Jihad spread across the Known Universe can’t have that. So … what does he do? He starts rewriting the past, allowing only a few historians (who in reality are propagandists and religious zealots) to tell his version of history. Irulan is (thankfully) exempt from this. Despite being made fun of by the ‘I do not need to read books because thanks to the spice melange and the superior breeding program of the Bene-Gesserit I am a product of, I can access all the knowledge stored in my super evolved brain to keep feeding my ego’ crowd, she stays a true historian until the very end. She doesn’t agree with Paul Atreides or his other crazy fam, but slowly comes to realize that what they are doing (while terrible) needs to be done to free humanity of pre-destination and oblivion. And due to being understimated by the pretentious Lady Jessica, her husband’s concubine and true love, the Fremen Chani, and of course, Paul and his whole band of Jihadists, she gets to write down history as it truly transpires. But she does it in a way that makes him look less of a tyrant and more of a reluctant hero.

This historical treatment is the same kind of treatment that was given to the Tudor Dynasty starting from its very first monarch, HENRY VII. 

I long for the day that Henry VII is correctly portrayed on screen because the way that the Tudors have gone down in history is how the Atreides clan did in the Dune universe. For every history buff that has enjoyed Dune, I urge that likewise, Dune readers do a deep dive into Tudor history to further appreciate both fandoms and see how the two can be studied together and dissected. Currently, revisionist historians who want to restore Richard III’s reputation have not ended up doing that. Instead, they have swung the pendulum the other way. As DUNE MESSIAH teaches us (through Irulan’s writings and Alia’s observations), the best way to understand saviors and deified leaders is not by extolling or vilifying them. Rather, see them as individuals trapped within their time period who feel as though they are ahead of it, and have to do what they must because otherwise darkness will reign.

Paul and Henry Tudor started off as exiles. Their foes never expected them to beat the odds but they did. But part of the reason why they did is because of the element of prophecy. And I am not just talking about the whole Henry Tudor claimed to be the long lost descendant of Arthur Pendragon and what not. Edward IV and Richard III did that too (though it worked less for Richard). I am talking about the issue with the whole Welsh prophecies that supposedly predicted the rise of Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond. Before he was born, a prophecy was sung that from his father’s line, the savior that the Welsh were hoping for would come. This prophecy in itself was a call back to a much older one which said that eventually one of the Welsh royal houses would rise to claim the English throne and unite all of the Isles. Well … Henry didn’t unite all of the British Isles but he did start the process when he married his eldest daughter Margaret to the King of Scots, James IV. Their descendants, from James VI of Scotland and I of England and Ireland, ruled all the British Isles.

In an interview, Frank Herbert said that he chose to take the direction of Paul Atreides and (especially) his son, Leto II’s stories in the way he did to caution about the danger of charismatic leaders who reach messiah or (in the case of Leto II) divine status. It’s not so much the power they possess or how evolved thy are that makes the Atreides so revered, it is their genius at how they present themselves and understand that the power of propaganda (be it religious, political or both) is the stronger force in the universe and what shapes human events. In studying the Tudors and Dune we learn that history is a collection of accepted events that are part factual, part propaganda, and part a reflection of the time period when they were written.

[minervacasterly]

The Unlikely Rise of Henry VII

Henry's victory to success is simply amazing due to how far he was in the line of succession -if he was at all!

Of all the Tudors, and don't get me wrong I love them all! He had the most adventurous life! His life is the stuff of movies and you'll see why. Henry was born to Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond and Margaret Beaufort, heiress of Lancaster in Philipa Gregory's words. But she was far removed from the line of succession! The Beauforts derived their name from a castle John of Gaunt had in his possession in English occupied French territory. John of Gaunt married three times, the last to his mistress Katherine Swybford. When they married their children were already grown up but by no means less ambitious. In an effort to ingratiate himself with the shifty king Richard II, John betrayed many of his comrades and persecuted anyone who stood against the king, his nephew. In return for his good services, Richard II legitimized all the Beauforts but that's it. No say if they were inthe succession or not. Later after John died, his firstborn, Henry Bolingbroke ascended to the throne after he deposed Richard. He didn't overturn Richard's legislation but added a new restriction: The Beauforts were legitimate in the eyes of the law of men but due to their revious bastard status they were excluded from the line of succession. So bye-bye ambitions. By the time Henry IV's grandson had issue, this changed altogether. Their descendants were still seen as progeny of a bastard branch (albeit legitimized) of the House of Lancaster but their status had changed overnight as support build around the Duke of York and his Neville relations (who also descended from the Beaufort line, but through the female line). Henry VI betrothed his young relation, Margaret Beaufort to his half brother Edmund Tudor. He was thirteen years her senior and while it was common for women to be married at a young age, people still found it disturbing because the groom didn't wait for her to grow up. As soon as she was 12, he married her and the next year she was pregnant.

Edmund and his brother Jasper had supported the Duke of York on various occasions but when the conflict escalated to war, the Tudor brothers sided with their kin. Edmund was captured during battle in late 1456 and died in attenpts to escape, possibly of sickness. Margaret , thirteen at a time, was already a young widow and expectant mother. She feared for her safety and the safety of her unborn child so she started a dangerous sojourn to Wales, to Pembroke castle where her brother in law resided. There, she gave birth to her only child, a boy she named Henry.

Henry did not have a lonely childhood like some Ricardians and fiction writerss love to depict, nor was his mother a crazy fanatic. She was the same as the rest of the women. Religion was not separate, it was part of women's lives, especially the adoration of female saints and the virgin Mary from whom women kept relics and images to pray to so they could be safely delivered or to protect their young. Of this latter cult, Henry became a firm follower, worshipping the image of the blessed mother with the same fervor as his mother.

Likely, the little boy had childhood companions like David Owen, the illegitimate son of his grandfather by an unknown mistress. In spite of her second marriage, Margaret was allowed to visit her little boy and spend hours teaching him, but then her fortunes changed when Edward Earl of March forced the Lancastrians to flee and was declared king by popular acclaim in March 4 1461. Margaret and her new husband now had to curry favor with the new regime and to prove their loyalty, they had to let her son go. Edward saw Henry Tudor as a potential threat and to neutralize this threat he gave his custody to a loyal Yorkist, William Herbert and his wife Anne. They raised Henry as if he was one of their own, and he had the company of the new Earl's other wards. But Henry knew that a prison made of gold was still a prison. One mistake from his mother, his guadians or worse, his runaway uncle and he would be dealt with.

After the Lancastrian Readeption which only lasted a year, Jasper Tudor was forced to flee yet again. This time he took his nephew with him. The deaths of every Lancaster made Henry a potential threat. Every male Beaufort was also gone. Margaret had to let him go once more, this time she would not see him for another fourteen years.

Bad weather brought them to the court of Francis II, Duke of Brittany. There he continued his education, by the time of Richard III's accession, he enjoyed the company of many English exiles, among them the formidable and staunch Lancastrian loyalist -Earl of Oxford. It was in Brittanny, that December of 1483 after it was clear that the princes were gone for good, that he made a promise to marry Elizabeth of York and become King of England, thus uniting both bloodlines, the Houses of York and Lancaster into one.

The next year and a half he spent his time planning, borrowing money and now in the court of France, currying favor with the French king. He had tried to invade England but failed. What made Henry think, the French king and others told him, he could succeed? But they didn't know Henry. He was by now an educated, cosmopolitan young man who was also confident that god was on his side.

On July 29 1485, Richard III gave the seal to Barrow, one of his officials to carry out his orders in the counties nearby and prepare for war.

To be fair, Richard III was the most experienced soldier here. He had known the horrors of war since he was very little and his life parallels Henry's but unlike the latter he had been participant in many military campaigns and had the entire North at his disposal. Henry had mercenaries, disatisfied English exiles, Edwardian Yorkists and most of Wales with him, but that was not enough to beat Richard's armies.

On August 7, Henry's ships docked on Milford Haven. According to Fabyan when he disembarked he knelt and thanked god, reciting the Psalm 43: 'Judica me deus & discern causam mean'. -Judge me, Oh god, and distinguish my cause.

The following days he spent recruiting, some of Richard's most staunch supporters defected to Henry, others refused to fight and just stood by as the two armies clashed on August 22. Others like his stepfather, chose to intervene in his favor only when the tide turned against him. After William Brandon, his standard bearer was struck down, Stanley and his brother with his armies charged down, and with their combined forced Richard's was cut down. Richard, according to various sources screamed 'traitors' and refused to go, instead seeking to confront Henry, but he never got to. The enemy got to him and he was forced down from his horse and minutes later, killed. It was a glorious day for Henry Tudor, now Henry VII. He had won against all odds, but the war was from over. Henry would face many pretenders and plots against him, his mother knew and she cried tears of fear, likely anticipating all her son would have to endure. He died in 1509 after twenty four years of reign.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 76

Whew!  Enormous Family Dinner is finally done!

This took 2 more chapters than I originally planned, but I feel that holds pretty true for any good conversation you have among your found family... it just never wants to stop!

As always, thank you to @satan-parisienne for being so very, very patient with my ‘hurry up and wait’ style of requesting feedback, especially while you haven’t felt the greatest.  You are far better at pointing out “yeah, but this makes sense to LITERALLY NO ONE ELSE” than anyone I will ever know.  Also, @baelpenrose for helping me nail some of the dialogue, along with keeping me on track with all the bits and bobs I try to include in a single chapter.  Between the two of you, I feel like a better writer every day.

To give an idea of how crazy this chapter was to write, content warnings include mentions of:

Food Painfully spicy food Witches (non specific) Burning witches (the fact it happened) Sex (non explicit) Drugs Paranoia Food aversions

To be clear, none of this occurs on screen with the exception of the foods.  But it is all referenced in the conversation within the chapter, so just in case I wanted to make sure to mention it here. I also tried to tag it all.

I managed to calm myself down while Conor and Maverick dragged Sam to get more food.  As I wiped the last of the tears from my eyes, Alistair was dutifully telling Arthur some of my more humorous antics.  The dry humor and deadpan delivery threatened to put a smile on my long-lost friend’s face.

“It was ginger tea, not green tea,” came Tyche’s voice and she snatched a curried-vegetable wellington out of my hand. Stuffing it in her face, she turned to the teacher-cum-warlord-cum-teacher. “If you ever do or say anything unpleasant to my sister, if you make her even the tiniest bit uncomfortable, I will end you,” she advised jovially.

“I can’t exactly return that threat,” he pointed out, nonplussed. “I probably know more about your reputation than anyone on this ship except Sophia, and I’m not brain-dead enough to think you’re going to hurt her.” He paused before clarifying. “Necessary kicks in the ass notwithstanding. Hey - “

“You have to earn that privilege, professor,” she interrupted.  Draping herself over a chair - there weren’t any arms, how was she doing that? - she turned to me. “I like Parvati.  Guerilla protest artist in the body of a goddess.”

“Fortunately, humanity progressed past a point where we burn witches at the stake,” Arthur rued in agreement.  “Otherwise, I’m pretty sure Ms. Fletcher wouldn’t have made it out of infancy.”

“Certainly no Refugee Guernica,” I agreed with a sigh.

Grey sat down and nodded a greeting before adding “I have come to burn your fields and steal all your women.”

“Our dear Councillor Kalloe certainly seems to worship at that altar,” Alistair commented before I could stop sputtering at the sudden show of humor.  His face was entirely innocent when our heads whipped around collectively. “What? There is not enough soundproofing in the several galaxies - “

A dark hand swatted at his face as Derek objected. “Not in front of the dumplings,” he signed before swatting at Alistair some more.

“As a former warlord, I feel like I should object to that,” Arthur directed at Grey. “I mean, I may have burned a few fields, but I never stole all the women…”

I sighed with feigned wistfulness. “I don’t think Parvati had to steal anyone.  They probably marched behind her happily, with desperately high hopes.”

Several nods exchanged around the table before Arthur cleared his throat. “Speaking of witches…” He glanced pointedly at Tyche. “I managed to find something from Earth already in the consoles, and I am well aware that Sophia is insane about spice.” More than I did, my sister immediately perked up. “This is something I got to try exactly once in the Before, and it’s definitely not for the faint of heart.”

“Berbere,” I murmured.  I could remember him telling me about it afterward.  It was the hottest thing he had eaten in his life, at least at the time.

He nodded in confirmation. “Exactly.  But, just a warning before anyone rushes off to try this: it isn’t just spicy in the Scoville sense, this is spicy in the Dune sense of the word.”

A few confused looks exchanged around the table.  I threw looks at both Tyche and Arthur asking for permission before explaining. “In the fiction series Dune, there is a drug that is only found naturally on a planet called Arrakis.  The drug is nootropic, anti-gerial, and mutagenic, primarily allowing for expanded consciousness, ability to understand fifth and sixth dimensional navigation, and in limited cases, ancestral memory. Although the actual name of the drug is melange, the common name is simply ‘spice’.”

Arthur mimed applause; he had heard me mention my tendency to spout information like a walking encyclopedia, but this was the first time he had seen it in person.

The confused looks cleared up slightly, but there were still more than I would have liked.  Grey gently raised a hand for attention. “And… You actually want to eat this?”

I nodded fervently, as did Tyche, although Arthur tilted his head back and forth. “I mean… I believe after the meal I… experienced… I used the phrase ‘what unholy fire did I just put into my body’, but hey. It was delicious, even if the experience was a little closer to fiery transcendence than was altogether comfortable.”

Tyche snorted. “Burning witches at the stake, you mean?”

Ahhh… that was why talking about Parvati made him think of berbere.

“Just don’t give it to Derek, I’m begging you,” he responded. “This is not the ‘understanding eyes of kindly folk who burned witches alive to save their souls’ kind of thing. This is more ‘being consumed in the unholy fire of the most delicious thing you can imagine and seeing the fabric of reality in the process’ kind of thing.” Shuddering dramatically, he glanced at Derek. “Something tells me you would try to hack reality, and we kind of need that to just keep working right now.”

A sudden expression crossed Tyche’s face that I could only describe as looking like the physical manifestation of a click-noise. “Transcendent… I’ve noticed several people on the Ark - and I mean easily over a hundred - acting strange lately.  This can’t be related, can it?”

My neck ached in sympathy for the way it would have snapped around, had I not been facing her already. “You’ve noticed it, too?”

Derek tapped the table emphatically, requesting our attention. “Noticed what?”

“People have been unusually antisocial,” Tyche clarified. “Instead of greeting strangers, they look at me skeptically when I say hi.”

I nodded in agreement. “Even people who were very casually friendly in the last year or so, suddenly just nod and duck away to whisper furtively. It would be one thing if I had done something that clearly had a negative impact on the crew, but… I mean, I even see people who are carrying portable habitats for Else eyeing me weirdly.”

If Arthur had cats’ ears, I swear they would have been pricked as far forward as possible - for someone who was suspicious as a default, he looked curious enough to die for the satisfaction of an answer. “How large are these groups? Have you noticed any frequent meetings? Do you ever see people from several groups interacting? Are they quieter when you - or any other outsiders, I guess - approach?  Is it always the same people?”

My head spun as I tried to parse out answers. The questions had come rapid-fire, and I realized abruptly that Arthur, for all our digital interaction in the Before, wasn’t used to my auditory processing issues.

Thankfully, our Knights of the Dinner Table arrived from a successful quest, laden with several plates of tidbits and small cups of hot soup.  Tyche and I glanced at each other, silently agreeing to suspend the discussion of odd behaviors, before I spoke. “Soup isn’t on the menu, guys.”

“Special request,” Sam insisted carefully. “We all like miso, and it helps digestion.”  Without waiting for approval, he took one bowl, scooped all the tofu out and added it to a second bowl, and handed the first bowl to Derek. “No mushy,” he promised sincerely.

I restrained the urge to gape.  Never had I seen Sam assert himself like that, and it honestly made me insanely happy to watch.  Looking around the table, I saw the slightest twitch of Grey’s mouth. “It is very healthy to be clear about what you want, and builds friendships when you do so for others.” 

So they were the culprit behind Sam coming out of his shell. Interesting. “Cheers to insurrection,” I murmured, toasting with my half-gone bloody mary.

“And soup,” Maverick added cheerfully as he accepted the cup with extra tofu.

Not even bothering with the spoon, Conor actually toasted with his soup before downing it in one swallow.  “Slainte.”

Thankfully, Tyche and Grey both took much more graceful sips from their small bowls. 

Quickly, I sent a message to Arthur to send his questions in writing so that I could answer them fully.  Derek also made quick gestures with his datapad, seemingly asking the same thing. 

Everyone ignored Derek slipping half his bao back on Sam’s plate.

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[inevitably-johnlocked]

What are your favorite johnlock fics of all time?

Ohhhh.

Ohhh noo. 

Nonny you’re cruel.

Okay so funny story: 

Someone asked me this exact thing a couple years ago. 

I started a fic rec list offline at that time

Said list kept growing and growing as I decided to start sorting my fics.

It’s now a couple years later, and the list has over 300 fics on it XD.

So you see my dilemma LOL. 

I have done a few fic lists in the past along this vein:

Top 20 Fave 40K+ w. Fics (April 2017 )

Ten Fave Short Johnlock Fics (Easy Reads April 2018)

25 Fave Johnlock One Shots (April 2018)

Top 10 Fave Fics (September 2018)

So what should I do today? How about the fics I ALWAYS re-read when I feel like I just need something familiar and oh so delicious? Would that be okay? Fics that I never hesitate to read again? Note that this list will probably change in a few months’ time as I re-read newer fics I’ve recently bookmarked; if I’m in a certain mood, a fic will get added and another removed, LOL. In fact, I’ve had this sitting in my drafts from quite awhile before I finally posted it, LOL. Waited a week, because my “feels” kept changing, HAH!

I have WAY more than 30 of these, but I had to stop somewhere! So here’s the criteria for these ones today:

I’ve read them more than 5 times since I bookmarked them

I read them start to finish, without skipping anything even though I know what happens.

That’s it. It’s just so I can keep my list down, LOL. Seriously, I love SO many fics that this list was HARD to do. Hope you enjoy!

I-J’s TOP 30 READ-AGAIN FICS (MARCH 2019)

The Strait of Juan de Fuca by mightypog (T, 6,400 w. || Vacation, Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Canada, Post-TRF, Love Confessions) – Sherlock is back and all seems forgiven, but something is missing between him and John. Their friendship initially appears intact, but Sherlock doesn’t understand why John seems to be slipping away. Finally, in terror, he tries to reconnect with John by taking him to the one place that seems to inspire any emotional interest in John any more: the Canadian wilderness. While there, Sherlock faces his greatest fear.

Fa Subito by kim47 (E, 6,659 w. || Suit Porn, Cockblocker Mycroft, Obsessed Sherlock, PWP) – John wears a suit. Sherlock finds it extremely distracting.

Bread and Wine and Curry Once a Week by cwb (E, 8,737 w. || Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Stroppy Sherlock, Love Letters, POV John) – Sherlock asks John for relationship advice. Little does he know that it’s him that Sherlock is in love with.

The Emergency Contact Series by blueink3 (M, 11,763 w. across 2 works || 5 and 1′s, Whump, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Caring Sherlock / John, Scars) – The first time John Watson’s emergency contact is called is the first time Sherlock Holmes finds out that he has the job. The first time Sherlock Holmes realizes he needs an emergency contact is the first time he mentally appoints John Watson with the job.

Iris by slashscribe (E, 11,948 w. | Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Post-S3) – Sherlock does his best to make John happy when John comes back to 221B with his new baby after the events of Season 3, but Sherlock has a track record of getting things wrong in this area. This story is an exploration of their gradual shift from friends to lovers, told from Sherlock’s perspective, full of a lot of pining and lack of emotional awareness.

Speaker for the Bees by antietamfalls (M, 14,649 w. || Deaf Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Sign Language) – It isn’t always easy assisting a deaf detective. Luckily for John, they make a pretty good team.

A Hundred Thousand Ways to Say the Name John by Jberry (E, 16,825 w. || Fake Relationship, Fake Marriage, POV John, Pining John, Cruise Ship, Angst & Fluff) –  John Watson and Sherlock Holmes must solve a case on a cruise ship. To get close to the crew and passengers, they must get married for the case on the Baetica. However, their relationship hits rocky seas both due to the case and internal conflicts. Part 1 of Baetica

A Shipless Ocean by myswordfishmind (M, 22,135 w || Post-TRF, John has a Kid) – Ten years after the fall Sherlock goes back to London to find that John no longer lives there. Instead, he resides in a seaside town, a widower, and the father of a seven year old son. Now, Sherlock must struggle with the fact that there may no longer be a place for him in this new world.

Knotted by naughtyspirit (E, 23,166 w. || UST/URT, Cuddling, Sharing Body Heat, Confessions, Kissing, Mastrubation, Frustration, BAMF!John) – John has to cancel a date because of Sherlock’s case, which leads them to be tied up in a basement from which they have to escape. They get wet, get tied up close and John has to step up and save them. Because he’s pretty. And hot. And just a little bit of a BAMF.

Tomorrow’s Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?)

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn’t simple.

Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy (E, 30,568 w. || Fake Rel., Roadtrips, Slow Burn, Mummy Holmes) – “You love your mother, Sherlock?” John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk.“Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”

A Study In Auto-Signatures, Sniper Dolphins, and Sex Holidays by cwb (E, 32,690 w. || Case Fic, Post S3, Evil Mary, Dev. Rel., Honeymoon, Epistolary, Bottomlock, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Secret Agents, BAMF!John) – John and Mary go on their sex holiday, and Sherlock is grumpy and pining about it. Part 1 of HOT DOLPHIN SEX

a good old-fashioned happy ending by darcylindbergh (E, 32,731 w. || Christmas, Frottage, Comfort, Est. Rel., Fluff, Insecure Sherlock) – For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves. Part 2 of things fairy tales are made of

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

LHR-HNL by scullyseviltwin (E, 35,066 w. || Hawaiian Vacation, Post-TRF, Friends To Lovers, Slow Burn, Just Talk Already, Drinking, Mutual Pining) – In need of an endangered flora sample, Sherlock and John must make a trip to an unexpected destination.

Classified(s) by blueink3 (E, 36,153 w. || Wedding Date AU || Fake Relationship, Jealous, PIning, H/C, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending, Mary is not Nice, Escort Service) – Clara’s American father is the ambassador to some such territory that Great Britain probably used to own, but she (and Harry’s undying love for her) is the reason John is getting on a flight at 12:30pm, flying across the second largest ocean in the world, and pretending to be in a perfectly happy, healthy relationship with an undoubtedly perfectly coiffed stranger. See, Clara is not only American (and wealthy to boot), she’s also best friends with John’s ex-fiancée. Whom she’s placed in the wedding party. As Maid of Honor. And John just happens to be Best Man. Bloody brilliant.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

Goodness Gives Extras by mydwynter (E, 39,629 w. || Fluff & Angst, Case Fic, Oral / Anal, Humour, First Time, Miscommunication, Snark, Christmas) – Christmas time. ‘Tis the season to settle down with a drink, some food and a present or two, and to enjoy the quiet relaxation of the holiday. Instead, there’s a case that drags them all over, missing presents, disappointed kids, angry parents, and a freak snowfall. On top of that John has to deal with Sherlock, who is being even more of a prat than usual. He really shouldn’t have expected anything different.

Right Hand Man by SilentAuror (E, 42,031 w. ||  H/C, Injury, Slow Burn, Infidelity, Mary is Not Nice) – When John’s left arm becomes paralysed after a car accident, Mary asks Sherlock to take him back to Baker Street to recuperate, as she’s about to give birth. Despite the fact that the search for Moriarty is ongoing, Sherlock takes John in and takes responsibility for overseeing his rehabilitation as he adjusts to the loss of his arm.

Left by lifeonmars (M, 45,153 w. || Magical Realism) – John Watson is left-handed. He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible.

Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, 47,709 w. || Casefic, Fluff, Romance, Frottage) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results.

Triage by scullyseviltwin (E, 51,612 w. || Character Injury, Introspection) – Sherlock’s mind goes exceedingly, devastatingly quiet and gray-blank. When he speaks it’s through a thick haze, it’s through molasses, he’s so disconnected from the words that it may as well be the unconscious shooter speaking.

Spare Change by Ermerness (E, 51,966 w. || Rich Sherlock AU, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Alternate First Meeting) – The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England. Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family’s private jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it’s time he settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John Watson happens to be none of those things.

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape, BAMF John, Falling in Love) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

Wars We Fought, Things We’re Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w. || Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case) –  Five months after John’s world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

Perdition’s Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

You Have Drawn Red From My Hands by J_Baillier (T, 67,085 w. || Three Garridebs, Heavy John Whump, Hurt / Comfort, Pining, Heavy Angst, Case Fic/Adventure, Slow Burn, Sick Fic, Injury, Guilt & Depression, Just Talk Already Please, Medical Realism, PTSD) –  John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.

Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w. || Genie/Djinn AU || Magical Realism, H/C, Kidnapping, Genie Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Case Fic, H/C, Angst, Clubs, John Whump) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more.

Midnight Blue Serenity by BeautifulFiction (E, 151,907 w. || Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar / For a Case, Drugs, Pining, Case Fic, UST) – When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate’s charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim?

[isitgintimeyet]

Letting Go

AO3

Previous

So, nearing the end of the story now, three more chapters to go. Thanks for sticking with it, I do appreciate it.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta.

Thanks to @happytoobserve for the encouragement

Thanks to you all for reading

Chapter 13: Doctor, Doctor

Oh, Doctor, doctor, can't you see I'm burning, burning Oh, Doctor, doctor, is this love I'm feeling? Ships at night give such delight We all leave before the morning light Please don't go no please don't go Cause I don't want to stay here on my own

Tom Bailey, Alannah Currie, Joe Leeway

Claire rubbed her eyes and stretched, contemplating yet another cup of coffee. Her eyes were tired from staring at her laptop screen for hours, studying the data and reading about hospitals in Manchester, Birmingham, Chicago and Melbourne. All had potential opportunities suitable for her, she just had to be willing to make that leap.

*********

Eight Years Ago

“Do ye ever think about moving away, tae another country?”

“Not really. Everything I want… need… love is here.”

“And what’s that, then?”

“My medical training… my uncle… and you, my heart. Why, do you?”

“It’s a big old world out there, Sassenach. Lots tae see. But I canna imagine settling down anywhere but Scotland… I love ye, Sassenach. I want ye with me always.Ye ken that… and I ken I always will.”

*****

She hadn’t yet spoken to her uncle about leaving. She’d already had to deliver one piece of bad news -- the duplicity of Malva and Frank. She was waiting for that to be fully digested before talking to him about moving away.

Although, to be honest, Lamb had taken that news better than she had expected. Malva’s approach to academic research had always been at odds with his own more traditional style. Even though he disliked any personal confrontation with his students, Mrs. Fitz had encouraged Lamb to have a ‘chat’ with her, suggesting that perhaps Malva might be better suited working with another member of the faculty -- Dr. Randall, for example, who, although lacking in field research experience, may share the same ‘values’ as she.

According to Mrs. Fitz, the conversation with Dr. Randall had been decidedly more serious. Whilst Lamb may have been open to working collaboratively with him, Frank’s underhanded tactics ensured that now he would never share his research. Lamb had decided, much to Mrs. Fitz’s annoyance, not to report Frank’s behaviour to the university board, not wanting to destroy the younger man’s career. He would, however, Mrs. Fitz was assured, keep a close eye on the publications under the name of Dr. Frank Randall.

A knock at the door roused Claire from her daydreaming. Peering briefly through the keyhole, she let John in.

“Hi, how are you? Fancy a gin and tonic? I’m sure it’s after five somewhere in the world.” Claire headed into the kitchen.

“Sure. Although, after so many years up in Scotland, I’d have thought your taste would run more to whisky. Do you not like it?”

“Well, has to be the right time, right place for me to enjoy a glass.” ...and right person, she added silently.

Claire returned to the living room with the drinks and settled herself next to John on the sofa.

John took a sip before continuing the conversation. “Anna’s coming home tomorrow. Mary just rang to tell me. Her progress has been nothing short of miraculous, apparently. She won’t be going back to work for a few more weeks, but to be in her own bed, in her own home is sure to help her recovery.”

“This gin is lovely, by the way. And with the cucumber… nice touch.” John took another large gulp. “Anyway, Mary said that Anna hopes to see us tomorrow afternoon and she’s got a secret to share with us.”

A fit of coughing from Claire forced John to put his drink down and slap Claire on the back a couple of times. Eventually, the coughing stopped and Claire wiped her eyes.

“Sorry,” she croaked. “Went down the wrong way. Secret, you say?”

“Yes, that’s what Mary said. I’m thinking there’s a man involved. Can’t wait for the goss.”

Claire closed her eyes and tried to keep her breathing calm. Please, no. Not that. Not Jamie and Anna. Could that relationship not wait until she had moved away? Out of sight, out of mind, although that clearly hadn’t worked too well for her in the past.

“So, talking of goss, I met with Frank this week. He said you two aren’t seeing each other any more. That true? He didn’t want to tell me any more about it and I was dying to ask.”

“Yes. He seemed nice enough, but… but... he’s not the man for me. No point in trying to pretend.”

“Well, that’s a shame. I could see you two together, but if there’s no chemistry…?”

John looked at Claire, who shook her head vehemently, her curls flapping over her eyes. She pushed them back impatiently.

“John,” she began hesitantly, wondering how best to phrase this. “There is something else. About Frank, I mean. I know you’re talking to him about a book, but… well... I’ll just say it and then it’s up to you. You know my uncle is an archaeology professor at the university?”

Claire waited for John to respond with a nod before continuing.

“Frank knew that. I think he went out with me to get to Uncle Lamb’s research, for his book.”

“No… he was keen on you, I could tell.”

“After we stopped seeing each other, I found him, hiding in my Uncle's office, notebook in hand, opening cabinets, taking papers. He’d even enlisted Lamb’s grad student in his search.”

Claire felt a wave of embarrassment as she admitted this to John. The thought of being used preyed on her mind, even though Frank had denied that.

“Lamb doesn’t want to take this any further with the university. But I felt I should warn you. When… if… you publish his book, be very careful of the sources, make sure they’re all credited, otherwise, well…”

John took Claire’s hand and stroked it gently. “Thank you for telling me that. It’s a lot to think about. And, irrespective of your uncle, I know Frank was interested in you, Claire Beauchamp, for you. You are a wonderful person. Anyone can see that.”

Claire blinked the tears away as John, with a final affectionate pat of her hand, stood up.

“And on that note, sorry to drink and run, but I’ve got a date tonight and I need to prepare. See you tomorrow afternoon. About three, Mary said.”

John placed his empty glass on the table next to Claire’s laptop. His eyes were unintentionally drawn to the screen, clearly displaying the half composed email from Claire to a colleague in Manchester, enquiring about a recent job advertisement.

“Claire, you’re not thinking of leaving us are you?” John blurted out without thinking. “Er… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to read that, it was accidental, but surely not.”

“I’m looking at possibilities, yes. It may well be time for me to move. Nothing definite yet though. John, please don’t mention this to Anna or Mary, will you?” Claire moved next to John.

“Of course not.” John placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her an affectionate peck on the cheek. “Mum’s the word. And thanks for letting me know about Frank. You’ve definitely given me something to think about… see you tomorrow.”

************

The living room was filled with flowers on every available surface. Claire wondered, as she followed John into the room, which of the elaborate arrangements was from Jamie, but now was not the time to flit from vase to vase trying to read the cards.

Anna greeted Claire warmly as she bent down to kiss Anna’s cheek then settled herself on the sofa next to her.

“Oh, Claire. It’s so good to be home.”

Anna’s voice was stronger now. The cast had been removed from her arm and the injury to her cheek had healed completely without the need for surgery.

“I’ve missed you all so much... I’ve missed proper coffee, I’ve missed Indian takeaways, I’ve missed chilled white wine… watching tv on a decent sized screen… privacy… fresh air. But most of all, I’ve missed my own bed. I’ve been longing to stretch out in a double bed with freshly laundered sheets and…” Anna stopped abruptly.

“Go on, what?” John encouraged, but Anna just shrugged and shook her head.

“I must say, you’re looking really well, Anna.” Claire hastily changed the subject, fearing to hear what, or who, Anna had been longing for.

“That’s always good to hear from a doctor. Second opinion and all that.”

“So you’re no longer under the neurology specialist at Stirling?”

Anna gave a slight chuckle. “No, I’ve been discharged. Transferred to the neurology department here in Glasgow for follow up appointments as an outpatient.”

The clinking of glasses announced the arrival of Mary, precariously balancing a tray of champagne flutes, strawberries, an ice bucket and two bottles of champagne.

******

Eight years ago

“Jamie, it’s a lovely gesture but what’s the champagne and strawberries for?”

“Do ye no’ remember? It’s our anniversary…”

“But that's next week.”

“Aye, next week is the anniversary of our first date. Tonight is the anniversary of the party where I met ye.”

“So champagne  and strawberries next week as well?”

“Mebbe… and then the week after that it’s the anniversary of the first time we… er… spent the night together.”

“Champagne for that too?”

“Nah, I’ve a mind fer another way tae celebrate that altogether. Jes’ ye and me and nae clothes.”

“Mmm, but I think maybe some champagne could come in… er… very handy in that situation.”

“Sassenach, ye’re a wanton woman… I like yer thinking.”

********

Dropping a strawberry into each glass, Mary passed the champagne bottle to John.

“Can you do the honours, John?”

John quickly removed the foil and wire and efficiently twisted the bottle until, with a slight pop, it was opened.

“It’s so much more dramatic when you pop it with a big flourish and the champagne gushes out,” Anna complained with a sigh.

“Ah, but think of the waste of good…” John consulted the label. “... ‘Veuve Monsigny bottled for Aldi’ champagne, my dear.”

John poured the champagne. “Hang on, there’s five glasses here. Are we expecting someone else?”

“Have you not told them yet, Anna?” Mary handed a glass to Claire and Anna.

Anna shook her head. “I was waiting.”

Claire suddenly felt hot. Beads of sweat began to prickle at the back of her neck, and her stomach seemed to be tying itself in knots. She gazed at her glass, watching the tiny bubbles moving and popping in the pale liquid.

“Waiting for what?” John asked impatiently. “Come on, Anna. Tell us your secret. I’m guessing it’s a chap. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Claire fixed a smile on her face and waited for Anna’s response.

Before Anna could say anything, there was a knock at the front door.

“I can’t believe that. Perfect timing,” Anna laughed. “Mary, would you mind getting that, please?

It only took Mary a few seconds to open the front door, but, to Claire, it seemed like an eternity. As Mary returned with the new arrival, Claire plucked up the courage and  looked into the face of… a man she’d never seen before. Straight dark hair, not ginger curls… slim and average height, not tall and broad… a thick dark beard, not neatly trimmed stubble. A  wave of relief engulfed her. She let out an audible sigh, unaware she had been holding her breath. John glanced across, puzzled.

Anna slowly got up from the settee and stood next to the newcomer. He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him.

“Everyone, this is Douglas. Douglas, this is John from downstairs and Claire from across the landing… and Mary you know, obviously. Douglas is a doctor in the Neurology department at Stirling.”

Claire stood up and extended her hand. “Douglas, nice to meet you.”

John smiled. “So this is your big secret, Anna? But… er…”

Anna passed a glass to Douglas. “I know what you are thinking, John, but it’s ok. Douglas wasn’t really my doctor and the Neurology department at Stirling have transferred me here. So he’s not involved in anything to do with me. Besides, nothing’s gone on, we’ve only been talking up to now. We’re taking it slow. That's ok, isn’t it, Claire? Douglas won’t get into any trouble?”

“I think you’re pretty safe. He’s not going to be up for misconduct if that’s what you mean. As long as he’s not involved in your treatment.”

**************

Claire lay in bed and thought about the events of the afternoon. Anna looked so healthy… and happy. She believed she’d found her ‘kindred spirit’, as Anne of Green Gables would say. Claire really hoped that was the case. Douglas appeared to be a decent man and was clearly very fond of Anna already. Mary had confided in Claire that, although it didn’t seem to be a case of a vulnerable patient falling for their healer, she would be keeping a ‘watchful eye’ over the relationship just in case.

Sleep was eluding her this evening. Hundreds of thoughts kept crowding into her mind, battling for position… Anna and Douglas… Jamie… Frank and Malva… Uncle Lamb… Jamie… moving away…

Claire rolled over, trying to find a cool spot in the bed.

**********

Nine years ago

“Jamie, it’s February. The heating’s off, you’ve nothing on and you’re still radiating heat like a… a…”

“Radiator? Aye, weel, I’ve always been hot blooded, ye ken. Suppose it’s from ma ancestors. If ye have tae sleep in the heather with only yer plaid fer warmth, it helps tae have internal heating.”

“Can I put my… oh that's better.”

“Christ, woman, yer feet are like blocks of ice on me. Why are they so cold?”

“Well, I could wear bed socks. Would you like that?”

“Hmmm… jes’ yer Mickey Mouse bed socks and nothing else?”

“Jamie Fraser, is that turning you on? It is, isn’t it?”

“Come here, Sassenach, I’ll get ye hot all over.”

************

Thoughts of Jamie kept pushing to the forefront of her mind. Claire was sure he would be devastated by the news of Anna and Douglas. She could understand that feeling only too well… how she felt when she thought it would be Jamie and Anna.

Still, one thing was now clear in her mind. She had to get away… before Jamie started a new relationship for real.

[walkingshcdow-a]

Title: The Best Revenge is Loving Well Rating: K+ Summary: Rudyard joins Chapman for an evening chat and it quickly becomes a study of the haves and have-nots in Piffling Vale. Confessions are made and blessings are counted. AU.  Ships: Vicyard ( @tinfoiltemplar ), Mashap ( @hcpebelief ), mentioned Chapman/Lady Templar/Simon Templar

“-And here is last year’s Christmas pageant,” Rudyard said, pulling yet another photograph of his children from his wallet and laying it on the bar in front of Chapman. 

Calliope, dressed as a scowly shepherd had been called upon by the Angel Gabriel - better known as her younger brother, James - because he was too embarrassed to tell Mary that she would soon give birth to what may or may not have been the savior of the world. Somewhere in the attic, filed neatly by a determined Victor and Georgie, the recording of the play collected dust. Every year, regardless of what their children had been cast as, Victor recorded the play and every year, even though they’d all seen it at the church, the Trevor-Funn family gathered around the ancient television set to rewatch Calliope and James take part in Piffling’s hottest take on the miracle of Christmas. Usually they did this while the goose or turkey or mallard or what-have-you finished off in the oven. Family traditions filled Rudyard with delight, but it was especially the family traditions he now forged with his husband and sister and children and Georgie that mattered most. Until raising a family of his own, Rudyard had been content to blindly follow in his parents’ crooked footsteps. Now, the path ahead felt more purposeful, clearer, less homicidal. 

And he relished the chance to show it off.

Weekly drinks with Chapman hadn’t been Rudyard’s idea. In fact, when his much-hated rival first invited Rudyard to the pub in Chapman’s, Rudyard had complained about it for three days straight.

“The nerve of the man!” he said, wildly swinging a hammer to finish building a coffin. “When he knows I don’t drink! Doesn’t he know I have better things to do on a Thursday night than sit around that pub of his?”

“Darling, have you considered that Mr. Chapman wants to make amends with you?” Victor asked, eyeing Rudyard cautiously. He side-stepped easily when the hammer clattered out of Rudyard’s grasp. “This rivalry of yours is beginning to feel…”

“What?” Rudyard growled. “Do you think we’re losing?”

“I think it makes you more vicious than I’ve seen you since James’ custody hearing.”

“Your ex-wife deserved every ounce of vitriol I showed her.”

“But does Chapman?”

“Of course he does,” Rudyard snapped, picking up the hammer from the floor. “He’s stolen nearly all our business in a matter of weeks, pushed me out of the village council, and tried to steal Georgie from us.”

“Yes. And in return, you’ve stolen his mail every day since he arrived, sabotaged several of his funerals, and made yourself sick with envy.”

“I maintain that that was food poisoning. Calliope’s ceviche is deadly.”

“All I’m saying-” Victor massaged Rudyard’s wrists gently as he wrapped his hands around them. “- is that it might be healthier to focus on the things you do have.”

“Mm.” Rudyard set down the hammer. He shook loose from Victor’s grasp to stroke his hair, then his cheek. “I do have several amazing things Chapman will never have.”

Midway through kissing his husband, Rudyard realized how best to revenge himself on Chapman. As such, he began to accept Chapman’s weekly invitations to talk shop in his pub and Rudyard took every opportunity to show Eric Chapman the things he had that Chapman did not. Wedding photos. A lovely, kind, brilliant husband. Two children who lit up his life. A sister to lean on when the business became a bit of a strain. An assistant who was practically a better sister than Antigone. The world’s laziest bulldog. A best friend who, in addition to being a best-selling novelist, was a mouse and gifted conversationalist.

In short: a family. 

In fact, Rudyard had rebranded Funn Funerals in these last few months. It was true enough that they got the body in the coffin in the ground on time - of course they did - but they were also the only family-owned and -operated funeral home on the island. It didn’t recuperate all their business, but it helped them make ends meet. And, more importantly, it allowed Rudyard to remind Chapman weekly of the areas in which he was clearly superior. Chapman was as popular as Rudyard was unpopular, but was he loved? Did he have a wallet full of a life truly lived? Or children’s artwork tucked in with his filing? Or someone who convinced him to make curry for dinner even though neither of them were dab hands in the kitchen? 

As Chapman nursed his third light ale of the evening and Rudyard sipped on skim milk in the near-empty pub, Rudyard felt a surge of elation at Chapman’s slumped, defeated look. He decided to push his luck. 

“I think I have some photos from the wedding in here, too,” he said, knowing full well that he did. “You should see Calliope as a flower girl…”

“You’re really lucky, Rudyard,” Chapman said, voice slightly slurry from the alcohol. “Really lucky. How many years has it been?”

“Seven, almost eight,” said Rudyard. He fished for the photo he wanted. “But Victor and I were childhood sweethearts. We’ve known each other since we were five years old.”

It didn’t serve Rudyard’s narrative to talk about his wife who died when their daughter was too young to remember her. It didn’t do to talk about Victor’s ex-wife who treated him like scum and tried to snatch custody of James a few years ago, despite having no maternal instinct or interest in James except as a bargaining chip to get more alimony out of Victor. What did serve him was the picture of Calliope and her new brother at the wedding ceremony, sitting at the foot of the altar with flower petals strewn everywhere and James’ pudgy fist grasping her pin-straight hair as he sat in her lap at their fathers’ feet. Alighting upon it with an “a-ha!”, Rudyard offered the picture to Chapman to view.

“They really are good kids,” Chapman said. “You ‘n Victor did a good job.”

“I like to think so,” Rudyard said, preening a little. “Calliope very well might be a genius - no doubt she’ll run you out of business if I haven’t by the time she’s old enough to run things - and James… James is the kindest boy I’ve ever known. He reminds me so much of Victor at that age…”

“I always wanted t’ be a dad.” Chapman’s voice was hazy. “I’d be a good dad, wouldn’t I?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Rudyard said. 

“It’s not too late,” Chapman continued. “I could have a kid. If I wanted.”

“I’m sure,” Rudyard said dryly. Then, a little too gleefully, “But you’d need a partner for that and marriage - and parenthood - is not for the faint of heart. Over half of all marriages fail. I’m very lucky that I’m married to my best friend in all the world. He’s really the best man in the world. I’m afraid that whoever you could con into marrying you would have to settle for second place.”

Chapman laughed weakly.

“I dunno about that,” he said, reaching for his beer bottle. “If you knew this woman like I know her…”

Rudyard paled a little.

“Of course you have someone in mind,” he said. Then, horror flooded his system as he thought of a severely pretty blonde with an obnoxious laugh and a glass eye: Victor’s aunt Vivian. “You do know Lady Templar is married, don’t you?”

“Vivian?” Chapman sputtered. “Oh, no. Not Vivian. She’s great and all, but she and Simon… Well, he’s great, too. They’re a great couple. And I’m lucky they have an open relationship - it passes the time.”

Rudyard gripped his glass of milk tightly. Any trace of a smile had fled his face entirely. There were some things about Vivian Templar he never needed to know and, unfortunately, he was now imagining the most unseemly things that he would have to carry with him home. And out of consideration for Victor’s sanity, he wouldn’t be able to share his horror with anyone until Georgie clocked in tomorrow morning. 

“I think I have some more pictures…” 

“No, I don’t mean Vivian at all.”

“Now, look here, Georgie has told you multiple times that she’s not interested.”

“You don’t know her at all,” Chapman said. “She’s someone I met a long time ago.”

“Of course she is.” Rudyard began to pick up his photographs and tuck them back into his wallet. “Everything’s always ‘a long time ago’ with you.”

“We met doing doctors without borders,” Chapman continued. 

“You’re a doctor now?”

“I studied medicine at Oxford a long time ago,” Chapman mumbled. “But, not exactly, no.”

“Oh, good lord…”

“Masha.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Her name. Masha. Masha Voronina. She was - is - a nurse practitioner. Brilliant woman. Russian, spoke five languages. Licensed masseuse - talented hands - trained jazz singer… We used to go hiking together for miles and she’d always find the best views.”

“I see.”

“We used to meet up every year - sometimes every few months - either because we were assigned to the same hospital or because I happened to be passing through wherever she was stationed. And we would have the most passionate, wild nights, if you know what I mean.”

“Well, that’s not exactly a subtle way to put it…”

“Sometimes, we would be backpacking together and camp out and I’d wake up and see her sleeping in the tent next to me and I’d think: this is it, Eric. It doesn’t get any better than this. You’re in the mountains of Monterrey with the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen. You just spent the night mapping the stars with her and she’s still here and you could be happy like this, every morning, absolutely anywhere if she wakes up beside you. And I’d think I should propose to her. But I never did.”

“I’m sorry,” Rudyard said. “But that sounds incredibly stupid. If you really loved her, why wouldn’t you propose to her?”

“It’s not that simple,” Chapman said. He slid his bottle between his hands, clearly thinking, but about what, Rudyard didn’t dare guess. “Not all of us are lucky enough to marry our childhood sweethearts and raise a family.”

“Now, look here,” Rudyard said defensively, “Victor and I were certainly lucky, but that doesn’t mean our marriage wasn’t hard work.”

“Oh no?” Chapman cocked an eyebrow. “You married your best friend and are raising two brilliant kids with him, running Piffling’s ‘only family-owned and -operated funeral home’, making homemade dinners together every night. I’ll bet the most you’ve ever fought is over which sheets to put on the bed this week.”

“That’s not fair,” Rudyard snapped. “Victor and I overcame insurmountable odds-”

“Like what?”

“His sodding family disowned him for marrying me, for one thing.” Rudyard scowled. “Why do you think Lady Templar hates me? I’ll bet you didn’t know she was Victor’s aunt.”

“It’s never come up.”

“And for another thing, those brilliant kids of ours didn’t just get dropped off by a stork, you know. I was married before - when Victor was off placating his horrid family, I met someone and fell in love. Cordelia. She used to run the Piffling Music Emporium. She died when Calliope was six months old. Do you have any idea what being a single father entails? I didn’t sleep for three years. Meanwhile, Victor’s parents married him off and his ex-wife, the miserable hag, cheated on him and lamented having to carry his heir to term. His heir! Better known as our son! We spent months in court with her to get full-custody of James. I’m bloody grateful he doesn’t remember those months. That neither of them remembers a life before this!” Rudyard jabbed his finger at the picture of his children on his wedding day. “Yes, I’m lucky, but marriage really isn’t for the faint of heart.”

“Blimey.”

“What on earth could be so trying you haven’t even tried to propose to this woman you love so much?”

Chapman muttered something inaudible.

“Speak up.”

“I don’t know where she is anymore,” he murmured. “We used to write letters, but I haven’t gotten mail since I moved to Piffling and I just think… Maybe she got tired of me? Maybe she would have, regardless. She’s a wandering spirit and we met when we were young and reckless. How am I supposed to know if she would even fancy the idea of settling down here, with me?”

“Are you really going to let the fear of rejection stop you from proposing to this woman?”

“I don’t have her current address!”

Rudyard thought about a drawer filled with Chapman’s mail that, maybe if he was feeling benign, might merit another look through. 

“Yes, well, that might be a bit of a setback,” Rudyard said. “The course of true love never did run smooth and what-have-you.”

Chapman sighed. He leaned into his hands heavily. His fingers tangled in his blond hair and Rudyard almost felt sorry for him. He didn’t know how to react and so gingerly patted Chapman’s shoulder. 

“If I’d asked her when I saw her last,” Chapman mumbled, “we’d be married four years today. Maybe we’d have a kid or two by now. Who knows?”

Rudyard didn’t have the heart to tell Chapman that weddings typically took a lot more planning than he made it sound and that he would likely only have been married to Masha for two or three years by this point. Instead, he drained the remainder of his milk and pushed away from the bar. 

“Who knows, indeed,” he muttered. “Well, Chapman, I really should be getting home to my family for the night. I don’t want to worry Victor…”

“Do you think we would have been happy?” Chapman asked, gripping Rudyard’s wrist. “Do you think Masha would have loved me enough to marry me? Even if it was as difficult as your marriage has been?”

“I have no idea,” Rudyard said. “But if you love her even half as much as I love Victor, you’d be willing to make it work, whatever the obstacles.”

A small smile turned up Chapman’s lips. Rudyard didn’t like the feeling of having inspired hope in his hated rival. 

“You’re a wise man, Rudyard Funn,” Chapman said. “Thank you.”

Rudyard mumbled something and walked briskly home across the square. When he opened the door to Funn Funerals and was greeted by pictures of his family and the sounds of his husband going over history homework with the kids from the kitchen, he relaxed. Maybe he hated Chapman and maybe he liked having something Chapman didn’t, but maybe, just maybe, even Eric Chapman deserved some measure of happiness. Rudyard joined his family in the kitchen to see Calliope drawing on James’ forearm while Victor reviewed homework. He greeted them each in turn, finally pecking Victor on the lips.

“You’re back early,” Victor said, smiling a little. “Did you successfully demoralize the competition by showing him baby pictures of our children?”

“It’s been a productive evening,” Rudyard said. “Victor, love, do you know where my file folder of Chapman’s mail has gotten off to? There’s something I need to check for…”

[onlypath]

GET TO KNOW THE BLOGGER. Can be used for RP/non-RP blogs to get to know a bit about the person behind the screen! 

1. FIRST NAME: marie 2. STRANGE FACT ABOUT YOURSELF: my right thumb is double jointed lmaoo 3. TOP 3 PHYSICAL THINGS YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE ON A PERSON: face, figure, voice 4. A FOOD YOU COULD EAT FOREVER AND NOT GET BORED OF: mapo tofu & curry rice 5. A FOOD YOU HATE: i don’t hate hate but i’m not the biggest seafood fan mhasfd;lk 6. GUILTY PLEASURE: very old and outdated memes 7. WHAT DO YOU SLEEP IN: a big t shirt, usually  8. SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS OR FLINGS: serious 9. IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN THE PAST AND CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, WOULD YOU AND WHAT WOULD IT BE: idk maybe stick to the first university i went to instead of transferring/try to have more fun 10. ARE YOU AN AFFECTIONATE PERSON: kinda 11. A MOVIE YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN: end of evangelion / the disappearance of haruhi suzumiya 12. FAVORITE BOOK: idk but lots of non fiction stuff 13. YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO KEEP ANY ANIMAL AS A PET, WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE: dog or cat 14. TOP FIVE FICTIONAL SHIPS: shinji x kaworu, shirou x saber, more i cant think of rn 15. PIE OR CAKE: cake 16. FAVORITE SCENT: fresh laundry 17. CELEBRITY CRUSH: idk 18. IF YOU COULD TRAVEL ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD YOU GO: japan, italy 19. INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT: introvert 20. DO YOU SCARE EASILY: sometimes lolol 21. IPHONE OR ANDROID: iphone 22. DO YOU PLAY ANY VIDEO GAMES: mainly nintendo stuff (e.g. animal crossing, smash bros), persona, also visual novels 23. WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A MILLION DOLLARS: wake up from the dream umm time to attempt to manage it well/save some/give some/and charity 24. FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU HATE: i don’t think i hate any lolol 25. FANDOM THAT YOU WERE ONCE A PART OF BUT AREN’T ANY LONGER: nintendo? only in the sense that i don’t have any muses there rn

[dykerachelsummers]

earth-82: teams, part i

okay, so people seem interested and i’m dying to talk about this universe so here we go! my version of dc canon. i’m splitting this up into multiple posts because otherwise it’ll turn into a monster.

this first post will focus on my versions of the founders of the justice league and my version of the founders of the teen titans. it’s mostly aligned with canon but with (what i think are) some interesting divergencies.

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The Justice League of America

the second existing major superhero team within the dc universe and eventually the most expansive.

Bruce Wayne (Batman) - Bruce witnessed his parents’ death when he was seven years old and after that he was put into the custody of Alfred Pennyworth (his family’s butler) and Leslie Thompkins (a doctor friend of Thomas’s). During his college years, Bruce sought out training so that he could eventually return to Gotham and attempt to eradicate crime. During this time, he joins the League of Assassins for awhile and fell into a brief relationship with Talia Al-Ghul. He became Batman at 23 and adopted Dick Grayson a year later.

Clark Kent | Kal-El (Superman) - Kal-El is the only son of Jor-El and Lara-El (nee Lor-Van), who was born during Krypton’s last days. Jor and Lara sent him to Earth, with the hope that he would be taken in by a human family who would raise him well. When Kal landed he was found by Jonathan Kent and Martha Kent (nee Clark), a childless couple. Martha convinced Jonathan that they should adopt Kal and they eventually chose to name him Clark Joseph Kent and raise him as a normal human, despite his strange origins. He became Superman at 22, a few months after being employed at the Daily Planet.

Diana, daughter of Hippolyta (Wonder Woman) - Diana, Princess of Themyscira, was Queen Hippolyta’s only daughter. Made from clay, Diana is the result of multiple goddesses deciding to give Hippolyta her wish to have a child. Diana grew up semi-isolated on Paradise Island, surrounded by the Amazons but lacking company her own age. She was almost three thousand years old when Steve Trevor landed on Themyscira. After a series of challenges that she won, Diana was chosen as Champion of the Gods and left Themyscira with Steve. She helped end WWI but didn’t return to Themyscira at this point, because she had fallen in love with Steve. She stayed with him until he died, before returning to Paradise Island. She left Themyscira several more times and at one point brought a young orphaned baby girl back with her to Themyscira. Hippolyta chose to adopt the girl and raise her as Diana’s sister. Diana chose the name Donna, in honor of a fallen friemd. Diana became known as the Wonder Woman in certain conspiracy and history circles around the time of the Gulf War.

Arthur Curry | Orin (Aquaman) - King of Atlantis, Arthur is the son of Atlanna, the former Queen of Atlantis, and Tom Curry, a human lighthouse keeper. He was raised in the surface world but was informed of his Atlantean heritage at a young age. His father got sick when Arthur was fifteen and afraid, Arthur fled to Atlantis. Once there, he learned his mother was believed to be dead and that her husband (Orvax) had been made king. Arthur was welcomed to the kingdom, as a member of the royal family. Arthur was there for two months before Orvax was killed by a rampaging sea monster and the Council of Atlantis was split about who should inherit the throne, but ends up choosing his younger half-brother Orm, with Nuidis Vulko as his advisor. At first, Arthur seemed welcome at Orm’s side, but he was soon informed by a mute servant that Orm planned to have him killed. The servant, an Atlantean mutant named Dolphin, helped him escape and took him to the stronghold of the rebellion that was is a member of. He, with the help of the growing rebellion led by Mera, overthrew Orm and Arthur - now known as Orin throughout the kingdom - took his place on the throne.

Kendra Muñoz-Saunders (Hawkgirl) - Kendra is the reincarnation of Chay-Ara, an Egyptian priestess of Isis who - alongside her lover, Prince Khufu, and a priest of Hathor, Hath-Set - found Thanagarian nth metal, which turned them into Thanagarian-human hybrids and made it so they would reincarnate each time they died. This lifetime Kendra is an archeologist, along the vein of Lara Croft. On her twenty-first birthday, she received her first memory of her life as Chay-Ara and has since retrieved many more of both Chay-Ara’s and her other past lives.

Barry Allen (The Flash) - Barry Allen was destined to become the Flash, not that he knows this. When he was eleven years old Eobard Thawne travelled back in time from the twenty-fifth century and murdered his mother before disappearing again. Barry’s father was blamed for his wife’s murder and imprisoned for the crime, despite Barry’s protests. Barry was adopted by Jay and Joan Garrick. His best friend (and crush) growing up was Iris West and he ended up spending half his time at her place, making it so he saw the Wests as a second family. Barry is a certifiable genius and managed to graduate high school at sixteen. Barry went through college and got a degree in biochemistry and could have gone farther and become a renowned scientist but instead chose to become a CSI for the CCPD. Barry became the second Flash (though for about six months he was known only as the Scarlet Speedster) when he was twenty-two, due to a lightning strike which hit him and caused him to crash into a bookshelf of chemicals. Unknown to him, the lightning was actually the Speed Force choosing him.

Dinah Lance (Black Canary II) - Dinah is the eldest daughter of Larry and D.D. Lance, born with a dominant metagene. The metagene activated during a traumatic childhood experience when she almost fell from a great height but managed to stop herself from hitting the ground with a powerful scream. Dinah grew up in Gotham City with her Uncle John Zatara and his daughter - her best friend - Zee Zatara and her Uncle Ted Grant. When Dinah turned eighteen years old, she left Gotham and moved to Seattle, where she started college, joined a (pretty good) punk band, and became known as the “Lady in Black” - a vigilante that stopped muggers and rapists with a single scream and a few well-placed kicks. Little did Dinah know that she’s following in the footsteps of her mother, the first Black Canary.

Zatanna Zatara (Zatanna) - Zatanna is the daughter of Giovanni “John” Zatara, a golden-aged superhero called the Magician who had been a member of the JSA and was capable of some magic (a descendant of the Homo Magi), and Sindella, one of the last pure Homo Magi. Zee was born with magical potential the like of which few could compare. Due to John being close friends with D.D. Lance and Thomas Wayne, Zee grew up as a friend of Dinah Lance and Bruce Wayne. John decided to move to Europe when Zee was ten years old and while Zee lost contact with Bruce, she stayed close to Dinah. During her time in Europe, John sought out magicians to help train Zee. When she was eighteen, Zee decided to leave Europe (and her on-again-off-again boyfriend John Constantine) and move to Las Vegas to try and get a start as a stage magician, following in the footsteps of her father.

Original Teen Titans

the beginnings of the first teen superhero team.

Dick Grayson (Robin/Nightwing) - Dick is the son of circus acrobats, John and Mary Grayson, who were killed when he was eight years old. He was taken in by Bruce Wayne and became Robin the next year. Robin is the most experienced sidekick, having already been apart of the vigilante world for four years before the team formed. He became Nightwing when he was seventeen years old and was at that point de facto the leader of the team, alongside Wonder Girl and Starfire.

Donna Troy (Wonder Girl) - Donna is an orphan that Diana rescued from a burning building and took to Themyscira. Donna was adopted by Queen Hippolyta and blessed by the gods to become immortal herself and to gain all the other attributes of the Amazons. When Donna turned twelve, she convinced Diana to take her to Man’s World. She attended a Justice League meeting, which is where she met and became fast friends with Dick Grayson. She and Dick remained friends even as she returned to Themyscira, communicating through letters they exchanged through their mentors. When Donna was fourteen, and Dick thirteen, they convinced Diana and Bruce to let them have a sanctuary of their own, which Bruce produced in New York City and would eventually become Titans Tower. Donna and Dick are the founding and core members of the Teen Titans.

Karyn Zor-El / Karen Starr (Power Girl/Flamebird) - Karyn is the eldest daughter of Zor-El and Alura In-Ze, four years older than her sister Kara. When Krypton was about to be destroyed, Karyn’s parents put her and Kara into a rocket ship where they would be in suspended animation until they arrived on earth; they were supposed to find Kal and seek shelter on Earth as soon as they landed. They were unlucky though and got caught in the Phantom Zone, where they remained for twenty-five years before breaking free and finally landing on Earth, where they woke up to meet Superman for the first time. Karyn was furious to see someone wearing her family’s symbol and attempted to attack Superman, screaming at him in kryptonian. Clark, who knew very little kryptonian, struggled to explain what happened and, once he finally did, Karyn was horrified to learn that Kal had grown up without her and Kara. She refused to fully assimilate to human culture and asked that Kal find her and Kara someone to live with that they would not have to hide their identities from (as Karyn is only thirteen at the time); Clark decided his childhood best friend Lana Lang was the best choice and after she agreed, he approached Bruce for help in establishing fake identities for them as Karen and Kara Starr, Lana’s long lost nieces. Karyn was introduced to Dick Grayson (Robin) and Donna Troy (Wonder Girl) a few months after settling in. She helped form the original Teen Titans.

Wally West (Kid Flash) - Wally is the youngest child of Joe and Frankie West. He considers Barry Allen his older brother, since Barry always spent so much time at the West’s place. He found out Barry was the Flash when he was twelve (about three months after the new Flash first appeared) and demanded that Barry tell him everything! He foolishly decided to try and recreate the accident and was lucky to be chosen by the Speed Force as well. He was allowed to become Kid Flash when he was thirteen, with Joe and Frankie’s permission. He joined the Teen Titans a few weeks after his superhero debut.

Garth of Shayeris (Aqualad) - Garth is the only son of King Thar and Queen Berra of Shayeris and would have been the crown prince had his parents not been overthrown before he was born. His father was killed and his mother banished to Poseidonis, due to the actions of his uncle - a magician with malicious goals. He was born with violet eyes, which marked him with the potential to become a powerful magic-user in his own right. Unfortunately, magic-users had recently been made taboo within Poseidonis and Garth was cast out. He was found by Princess Mera of Xebel, Xebel being an pocket dimension found within the Bermuda Triangle. Mera convinced her parents to take him in. Xebel had no taboo against magic users which allowed Garth to grow up with no bigotry against him for his potential magical abilities, and Mera (a powerful sorceress in her own right) ended up being the own to train him when he expressed interest in the magical arts. Garth met Arthur Curry when he was ten and Arthur twenty, through the rebellion Xebel had joined to bring down King Orvax and later King Orm, and they quickly bonded. When Arthur later became Aquaman, he offered Garth the position of Aqualad. Garth was the second to last of the founders of the Teen Titans to join.

Roy Harper (Speedy/Red Arrow) - Roy Harper Jr never met his father, and his mother, a Navajo woman, died giving birth to him. Roy was raised by his uncle, Broken Bow, until shortly before his uncle’s death when he was twelve. Broken Bow had convinced Oliver Queen, newly recovered billionaire who had been missing for five years, to take Roy in. Because of Oliver’s relationship with Dinah Lance, a personal friend of both Batman and Wonder Woman, Roy was introduced to the other teen heroes when he was fifteen, as Speedy. He ends up becoming fast friends with them and was the last member of the team to join.

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okay, guys that’s all for part one! part two will have at least three more teams (the new teen titans, young justice, and the justice league dark).

[tadomodoka4-blog]

What are your favorite johnlock fics of all time?

Ohhhh.

Ohhh noo. 

Nonny you’re cruel.

Okay so funny story: 

Someone asked me this exact thing a couple years ago. 

I started a fic rec list offline at that time

Said list kept growing and growing as I decided to start sorting my fics.

It’s now a couple years later, and the list has over 300 fics on it XD.

So you see my dilemma LOL. 

I have done a few fic lists in the past along this vein:

Top 20 Fave 40K+ w. Fics (April 2017 )

Ten Fave Short Johnlock Fics (Easy Reads April 2018)

25 Fave Johnlock One Shots (April 2018)

Top 10 Fave Fics (September 2018)

So what should I do today? How about the fics I ALWAYS re-read when I feel like I just need something familiar and oh so delicious? Would that be okay? Fics that I never hesitate to read again? Note that this list will probably change in a few months’ time as I re-read newer fics I’ve recently bookmarked; if I’m in a certain mood, a fic will get added and another removed, LOL. In fact, I’ve had this sitting in my drafts from quite awhile before I finally posted it, LOL. Waited a week, because my “feels” kept changing, HAH!

I have WAY more than 30 of these, but I had to stop somewhere! So here’s the criteria for these ones today:

I’ve read them more than 5 times since I bookmarked them

I read them start to finish, without skipping anything even though I know what happens.

That’s it. It’s just so I can keep my list down, LOL. Seriously, I love SO many fics that this list was HARD to do. Hope you enjoy!

I-J’s TOP 30 READ-AGAIN FICS (MARCH 2019)

The Strait of Juan de Fuca by mightypog (T, 6,400 w. || Vacation, Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Canada, Post-TRF, Love Confessions) – Sherlock is back and all seems forgiven, but something is missing between him and John. Their friendship initially appears intact, but Sherlock doesn’t understand why John seems to be slipping away. Finally, in terror, he tries to reconnect with John by taking him to the one place that seems to inspire any emotional interest in John any more: the Canadian wilderness. While there, Sherlock faces his greatest fear.

Fa Subito by kim47 (E, 6,659 w. || Suit Porn, Cockblocker Mycroft, Obsessed Sherlock, PWP) – John wears a suit. Sherlock finds it extremely distracting.

Bread and Wine and Curry Once a Week by cwb (E, 8,737 w. || Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Stroppy Sherlock, Love Letters, POV John) – Sherlock asks John for relationship advice. Little does he know that it’s him that Sherlock is in love with.

The Emergency Contact Series by blueink3 (M, 11,763 w. across 2 works || 5 and 1′s, Whump, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Caring Sherlock / John, Scars) – The first time John Watson’s emergency contact is called is the first time Sherlock Holmes finds out that he has the job. The first time Sherlock Holmes realizes he needs an emergency contact is the first time he mentally appoints John Watson with the job.

Iris by slashscribe (E, 11,948 w. | Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Post-S3) – Sherlock does his best to make John happy when John comes back to 221B with his new baby after the events of Season 3, but Sherlock has a track record of getting things wrong in this area. This story is an exploration of their gradual shift from friends to lovers, told from Sherlock’s perspective, full of a lot of pining and lack of emotional awareness.

Speaker for the Bees by antietamfalls (M, 14,649 w. || Deaf Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Sign Language) – It isn’t always easy assisting a deaf detective. Luckily for John, they make a pretty good team.

A Hundred Thousand Ways to Say the Name John by Jberry (E, 16,825 w. || Fake Relationship, Fake Marriage, POV John, Pining John, Cruise Ship, Angst & Fluff) –  John Watson and Sherlock Holmes must solve a case on a cruise ship. To get close to the crew and passengers, they must get married for the case on the Baetica. However, their relationship hits rocky seas both due to the case and internal conflicts. Part 1 of Baetica

A Shipless Ocean by myswordfishmind (M, 22,135 w || Post-TRF, John has a Kid) – Ten years after the fall Sherlock goes back to London to find that John no longer lives there. Instead, he resides in a seaside town, a widower, and the father of a seven year old son. Now, Sherlock must struggle with the fact that there may no longer be a place for him in this new world.

Knotted by naughtyspirit (E, 23,166 w. || UST/URT, Cuddling, Sharing Body Heat, Confessions, Kissing, Mastrubation, Frustration, BAMF!John) – John has to cancel a date because of Sherlock’s case, which leads them to be tied up in a basement from which they have to escape. They get wet, get tied up close and John has to step up and save them. Because he’s pretty. And hot. And just a little bit of a BAMF.

Tomorrow’s Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?)

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn’t simple.

Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy (E, 30,568 w. || Fake Rel., Roadtrips, Slow Burn, Mummy Holmes) – “You love your mother, Sherlock?” John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk.“Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”

A Study In Auto-Signatures, Sniper Dolphins, and Sex Holidays by cwb (E, 32,690 w. || Case Fic, Post S3, Evil Mary, Dev. Rel., Honeymoon, Epistolary, Bottomlock, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Secret Agents, BAMF!John) – John and Mary go on their sex holiday, and Sherlock is grumpy and pining about it. Part 1 of HOT DOLPHIN SEX

a good old-fashioned happy ending by darcylindbergh (E, 32,731 w. || Christmas, Frottage, Comfort, Est. Rel., Fluff, Insecure Sherlock) – For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves. Part 2 of things fairy tales are made of

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

LHR-HNL by scullyseviltwin (E, 35,066 w. || Hawaiian Vacation, Post-TRF, Friends To Lovers, Slow Burn, Just Talk Already, Drinking, Mutual Pining) – In need of an endangered flora sample, Sherlock and John must make a trip to an unexpected destination.

Classified(s) by blueink3 (E, 36,153 w. || Wedding Date AU || Fake Relationship, Jealous, PIning, H/C, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending, Mary is not Nice, Escort Service) – Clara’s American father is the ambassador to some such territory that Great Britain probably used to own, but she (and Harry’s undying love for her) is the reason John is getting on a flight at 12:30pm, flying across the second largest ocean in the world, and pretending to be in a perfectly happy, healthy relationship with an undoubtedly perfectly coiffed stranger. See, Clara is not only American (and wealthy to boot), she’s also best friends with John’s ex-fiancée. Whom she’s placed in the wedding party. As Maid of Honor. And John just happens to be Best Man. Bloody brilliant.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

Goodness Gives Extras by mydwynter (E, 39,629 w. || Fluff & Angst, Case Fic, Oral / Anal, Humour, First Time, Miscommunication, Snark, Christmas) – Christmas time. ‘Tis the season to settle down with a drink, some food and a present or two, and to enjoy the quiet relaxation of the holiday. Instead, there’s a case that drags them all over, missing presents, disappointed kids, angry parents, and a freak snowfall. On top of that John has to deal with Sherlock, who is being even more of a prat than usual. He really shouldn’t have expected anything different.

Right Hand Man by SilentAuror (E, 42,031 w. ||  H/C, Injury, Slow Burn, Infidelity, Mary is Not Nice) – When John’s left arm becomes paralysed after a car accident, Mary asks Sherlock to take him back to Baker Street to recuperate, as she’s about to give birth. Despite the fact that the search for Moriarty is ongoing, Sherlock takes John in and takes responsibility for overseeing his rehabilitation as he adjusts to the loss of his arm.

Left by lifeonmars (M, 45,153 w. || Magical Realism) – John Watson is left-handed. He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible.

Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, 47,709 w. || Casefic, Fluff, Romance, Frottage) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results.

Triage by scullyseviltwin (E, 51,612 w. || Character Injury, Introspection) – Sherlock’s mind goes exceedingly, devastatingly quiet and gray-blank. When he speaks it’s through a thick haze, it’s through molasses, he’s so disconnected from the words that it may as well be the unconscious shooter speaking.

Spare Change by Ermerness (E, 51,966 w. || Rich Sherlock AU, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Alternate First Meeting) – The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England. Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family’s private jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it’s time he settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John Watson happens to be none of those things.

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape, BAMF John, Falling in Love) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

Wars We Fought, Things We’re Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w. || Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case) –  Five months after John’s world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

Perdition’s Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

You Have Drawn Red From My Hands by J_Baillier (T, 67,085 w. || Three Garridebs, Heavy John Whump, Hurt / Comfort, Pining, Heavy Angst, Case Fic/Adventure, Slow Burn, Sick Fic, Injury, Guilt & Depression, Just Talk Already Please, Medical Realism, PTSD) –  John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.

Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w. || Genie/Djinn AU || Magical Realism, H/C, Kidnapping, Genie Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Case Fic, H/C, Angst, Clubs, John Whump) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more.

Midnight Blue Serenity by BeautifulFiction (E, 151,907 w. || Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar / For a Case, Drugs, Pining, Case Fic, UST) – When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate’s charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim?

from I am to see to it that I do not lose you. https://ift.tt/2FTbxgX via IFTTT

[selachis]

— ✧ that looks like SERAPHINE CURRY! they’re the TWENTY ONE YEAR OLD DAUGHTER of ARTHUR CURRY & MERA. [ they are also a UNDERGRAD & CONCERT VIOLINIST at paragon. i hear they’re EASYGOING & REFINED, but tend to be HARSH & FICKLE. her file says that her power is ATLANTEAN/XEBELLIAN PHYSIOLOGY, HYDROKINESIS & AQUATIC LIFE MIMICRY.    // DROWNING TW.

 helo . .  welc.  to my new chracter  . . . . ^-^ here is her  . .. tl;dr PINTEREST.

seraphine curry -- most commonly called sera, sara, or sela. people always reach for sera, but sela always considered it far too close to her mothers name, that she would always introduce herself as sela -- but she still lets people pick whatever name they please for her.

sela is, at the moment, in her second year at paragon with a major in international relations and a minor in marine conservation -- she also tutors in music and art.

sela is the youngest in the curry family, and thus, had the least royal pressure put on her. she was expected to you know, at least follow the rules somewhat, but she was somewhat free to do whatever she wanted to, whenever, 

the first major, life defining moment is when she met -- or more accurately saved -- WC. someone floating in the water, maybe pulled out in a riptide or thrown overboard, on a stormy day. sela found them adrift in the deep sea. immediately, she pulled them to shore, and stayed there watching them. to make sure they were okay. she jumped back into the ocean after they woke up, leaving nothing but her name and a promise to see them again. and she did, or rather, she looked for them at that beach daily == sometimes seeing them, but never saying anything.  

she carried this sadness with her, bottled up and held close to her chest, never letting go. 

having no pressure to go in a royal direction, sela was very ‘adrift’ in her possibilities of what she could do. anything that she wanted to. however, whatever she did was met with astounding applause because she was the baby sister and everyone loved her.

even when she burnt the cake she had made, people would act as if she was the next great british baker. 

it made her feel fed up, and stiffened, because she would never have someone be honest about whether she was actually as good as they said or not. 

she would succeed in everything that she did, not always by her own skill, but by the communal effort of everyone around her who only wanted to see her succeed.

she went into art first, using water painting to make it seem as if the waves had fallen onto the page. she was claimed to be the new picasso, the second coming of leonardo da vinci, she was critically acclaimed, she was good, but maybe not to the level that art critics said she was.

she quickly stopped, and tried to find a new passion.

she picked up music, starting with composing, then the piano, finally settling on the violin. which she was actually talented at. much like her painting, she received critical acclaim with little work, and was soon given her own touring orchestra around the world.  at only the age 20.

and she promptly did what she’s discovered she’s also very good at. dropping out. claiming a loss of muse. she couldn’t stand everything being handed to her because of her family.

so arthur forced her to enrol in paragon, hoping a change in scenery and being around childhood friends might make a difference to her fickle attitude. he also mentioned that she might be interested in joining one of the fledgling super hero groups bubbling up in paragon -- which would be a great idea had she not had a major crush and minor fling with mari grayson, the person in charge of putting it all together.

wc

WC. someone floating in the water, maybe pulled out in a riptide or thrown overboard, on a stormy day. sela found them adrift in the deep sea. immediately, she pulled them to shore, and stayed there watching them. to make sure they were okay. she jumped back into the ocean after they woke up, leaving nothing but her name and a promise to see them again. and she did, or rather, she looked for them at that beach daily == sometimes seeing them, but never saying anything.   just a one sided childhood crush that has a lot of possibility to be changed around or edited just the idea of her saving some1 and eventually getting her heart broken abt it . . . as a kid. open to any gender, someone who is around the same age as sela. can also be combned with the next wc thank you.

WC. like the ying- to her -yang. the adrenaline in the roar of the wind that pushes the sea into the waves, would L o V e an end-game, soul mate-esque ship that is akin to sailor neptune/uranys where all aspects of their life seem to just connect. .. . and theyre just  ..  wow yeah gay about it. would L O  V E if this spun out of the previous wc -- but i’m open to also them being separated ! this would would be for nb/female/female allignign nb thank u

WC. stans groupies, the people who love classical music ? i’m sure there’s like 1 at paragon.

WC. childhood friends, anyone associated w the sea or with the justice league, you get it ! WC. other royals  . . . the kids who would run around balls in their fancy little gowns n ruin it for everyone else

WC. muses. would love some ppl that sela just .. paints, or writes music for, completely platonic just arts-y friends !

WC. book club ! maybe more leaning to a style of dark-academia, just ppl who read books, and maybe share their own poetry ? thank u !

[vintagegeekculture]

Dead Fandoms, Part 3

Read Part One of Dead Fandoms here. 

Read Part Two of Dead Fandoms here. 

Before we continue, I want to add the usual caveat that I actually don’t want to be right about these fandoms being dead. I like enthusiasm and energy and it’s a shame to see it vanish.

Mists of Avalon

Remember that period of time of about 15 years, where absolutely everybody read this book and was obsessed with it? It could not have been bigger, and the fandom was Anne Rice huge, overlapping for several years with USENET and the early World Wide Web…but it’s since petered out. 

Mists of Avalon’s popularity may be due to the most excellent case of hitting a demographic sweet spot ever. The book was a feminist retelling of the Arthurian Mythos where Morgan Le Fay is the main character, a pagan from matriarchal goddess religions who is fighting against encroaching Christianity and patriarchal forms of society coming in with it. Also, it made Lancelot bisexual and his conflict is how torn he is about his attraction to both Arthur and Guinevere.

Remember, this novel came out in 1983 – talk about being ahead of your time! If it came out today, the reaction from a certain corner would be something like “it is with a heavy heart that I inform you that tumblr is at it again.”

Man, demographically speaking, that’s called “nailing it.” It used to be one of the favorite books of the kind of person who’s bookshelf is dominated by fantasy novels about outspoken, fiery-tongued redheaded women, who dream of someday moving to Scotland, who love Enya music and Kate Bush, who sell homemade needlepoint stuff on etsy, who consider their religious beliefs neo-pagan or wicca, and who have like 15 cats, three of which are named Isis, Hypatia, and Morrigan.

This type of person is still with us, so why did this novel fade in popularity? There’s actually a single hideous reason: after her death around 2001, facts came out that Marion Zimmer Bradley abused her daughters sexually. Even when she was alive, she was known for defending and enabling a known child abuser, her husband, Walter Breen. To say people see your work differently after something like this is an understatement – especially if your identity is built around being a progressive and feminist author.

Robotech

I try to break up my sections on dead fandoms into three parts: first, I explain the property, then explain why it found a devoted audience, and finally, I explain why that fan devotion and community went away. Well, in the case of Robotech, I can do all three with a single sentence: it was the first boy pilot/giant robot Japanimation series that shot for an older, teenage audience to be widely released in the West. Robotech found an audience when it was the only true anime to be widely available, and lost it when became just another import anime show. In the days of Crunchyroll, it’s really hard to explain what made Robotech so special, because it means describing a different world.

Try to imagine what it was like in 1986 for Japanime fans: there were barely any video imports, and if you wanted a series, you usually had to trade tapes at your local basement club (they were so precious they couldn’t even be sold, only traded). If you were lucky, you were given a script to translate what you were watching. Robotech though, was on every day, usually after school. You want an action figure? Well, you could buy a Robotech Valkyrie or a Minmei figure at your local corner FAO Schwartz. 

However, the very strategy that led to it getting syndicated is the very reason it was later vilified by the purists who emerged when anime became a widespread cultural force: strictly speaking, there actually is no show called “Robotech.” Since Japanese shows tend to be short run, say, 50-60 episodes, it fell well under the 80-100 episode mark needed for syndication in the US. The producer of Harmony Gold, Carl Macek, had a solution: he’d cut three unrelated but similar looking series together into one, called “Robotech.” The shows looked very similar, had similar love triangles, used similar tropes, and even had little references to each other, so the fit was natural. It led to Robotech becoming a weekday afternoon staple with a strong fandom who called themselves “Protoculture Addicts.” There were conventions entirely devoted to Robotech. The supposed shower scene where Minmei was bare-breasted was the barely whispered stuff of pervert legend in pre-internet days. And the tie in novels, written with the entirely western/Harmony Gold conception of the series and which continued the story, were actually surprisingly readable.

The final nail in the coffin of Robotech fandom was the rise of Sailor Moon, Toonami, Dragonball, and yes, Pokemon (like MC Hammer’s role in popularizing hip hop, Pokemon is often written out of its role in creating an audience for the next wave of cartoon imports out of insecurity). Anime popularity in the West can be defined as not a continuing unbroken chain like scifi book fandom is, but as an unrelated series of waves, like multiple ancient ruins buried on top of each other (Robotech was the vanguard of the third wave, as Anime historians reckon); Robotech’s wave was subsumed by the next, which had different priorities and different “core texts.” Pikachu did what the Zentraedi and Invid couldn’t do: they destroyed the SDF-1.

Legion of Super-Heroes

Legion of Superheroes was comic set in the distant future that combined superheroes with space opera, with a visual aesthetic that can best be described as “Star Trek: the Motion Picture, if it was set in a disco.” 

I’ve heard wrestling described as “a soap opera for men.” If that’s the case, then Legion of Super-Heroes was a soap opera for nerds. The book is about attractive 20-somethings who seem to hook up all the time. As a result, it had a large female fanbase, which, I cannot stress enough, is incredibly unusual for this era in comics history. And if you have female fans, you get a lot of shipping and slashfic, and lots of speculation over which of the boy characters in the series is gay. The fanon answer is Element Lad, because he wore magenta-pink and never had a girlfriend. (Can’t argue with bulletproof logic like that.) In other words, it was a 1970s-80s fandom that felt much more “modern” than the more right-brained, bloodless, often anal scifi fandoms that existed around the same time, where letters pages were just nitpicking science errors by model train and elevator enthusiasts.

Legion Headquarters seemed to be a rabbit fuck den built around a supercomputer and Danger Room. Cosmic Boy dressed like Tim Curry in Rocky Horror. There’s one member, Duo Damsel, who can turn into two people, a power that, in the words of Legion writer Jim Shooter, was “useful for weird sex...and not much else.”

LSH was popular because the fans were insanely horny. This is, beyond the shadow of a doubt, the thirstiest fandom of all time.  You might think I’m overselling this, but I really think that’s an under-analyzed part of how some kinds of fiction build a devoted fanbase.  

For example, a big reason for the success of Mass Effect is that everyone has a favorite girl or boy, and you have the option to romance them. Likewise, everyone who was a fan of Legion remembers having a crush. Sardonic Ultra Boy for some reason was a favorite among gay male nerds (aka the Robert Conrad Effect). Tall, blonde, amazonian telepath Saturn Girl, maybe the first female team leader in comics history, is for the guys with backbone who prefer Veronica over Betty. Shrinking Violet was a cute Audrey Hepburn type. And don’t forget Shadow Lass, who was a blue skinned alien babe with pointed ears and is heavily implied to have an accent (she was Aayla Secura before Aayla Secura was Aayla Secura). Light Lass was commonly believed to be “coded lesbian” because of a short haircut and her relationships with men didn’t work out. The point is, it’s one thing to read about the adventures of a superteam, and it implies a totally different level of mental and emotional involvement to read the adventures of your imaginary girlfriend/boyfriend.  

Now, I should point out that of all the fandoms I’ve examined here, LSH was maybe the smallest. Legion was never a top seller, but it was a favorite of the most devoted of fans who kept it alive all through the seventies and eighties with an energy and intensity disproportionate to their actual numbers. My gosh, were LSH fans devoted! Interlac and Legion Outpost were two Legion fanzines that are some of the most famous fanzines in comics history.

If nerd culture fandoms were drugs, Star Wars would be alcohol, Doctor Who would be weed, but Legion of Super-Heroes would be injecting heroin directly into your eyeballs. Maybe it is because the Legionnaires were nerdy, too: they played Dungeons and Dragons in their off time (an escape, no doubt, from their humdrum, mundane lives as galaxy-rescuing superheroes). There were sometimes call outs to Monty Python. Basically, the whole thing had a feel like the dorkily earnest skits or filk-singing at a con. Legion felt like it’s own fan series, guest starring Patton Oswalt and Felicia Day.

It helped that the boundary between fandom and professional was incredibly porous. For instance, pro-artist Dave Cockrum did covers for Legion fanzines. Former Legion APA members Todd and Mary Biernbaum got a chance to actually write Legion, where, with the gusto of former slashfic writers given the keys to canon, their major contribution was a subplot that explicitly made Element Lad gay. Mike Grell, a professional artist who got paid to work on the series, did vaguely porno-ish fan art. Again, it’s hard to tell where the pros started and the fandom ended; the inmates were running the asylum.

Mostly, Legion earned this devotion because it could reward it in a way no other comic could. Because Legion was not a wide market comic but was bought by a core audience, after a point, there were no self-contained one-and-done Legion stories. In fact, there weren’t even really arcs as we know it, which is why Legion always has problems getting reprinted in trade form. Legion was plotted like a daytime soap opera: there were always five different stories going on in every issue, and a comic involved cutting between them. Sure, like daytime soap operas, there’s never a beginning, just endless middles, so it was totally impossible for a newbie to jump on board...but soap operas know what they are doing: long term storytelling rewards a long term reader.

This brings me to today, where Legion is no longer being published by DC. There is no discussion about a movie or TV revival. This is amazing. Comics are a world where the tiniest nerd groups get pandered to: Micronauts, Weirdworld, Seeker 3000, and Rom have had revival series, for pete’s sake. It’s incredible there’s no discussion of a film or TV treatment, either; friggin Cyborg from New Teen Titans is getting a solo movie. 

Why did Legion stop being such a big deal? Where did the fandom that supported it dissolve to? One word: X-Men. Legion was incredibly ahead of its time. In the 60s and 70s, there were barely any “fan” comics, since superhero comics were like animation is today: mostly aimed at kids, with a minority of discerning adult/teen fans, and it was success among kids, not fans, that led to something being a top seller (hence, “fan favorites” in the 1970s, as surprising as it is to us today, often did not get a lot of work, like Don MacGregor or Barry Smith). But as newsstands started to push comics out, the fan audience started to get bigger and more important…everyone else started to catch up to the things that made Legion unique: most comics started to have attractive people who paired up into couples and/or love triangles, and featured extremely byzantine long term storytelling. If Legion of Super-Heroes is going to be remembered for anything, it’s for being the smaller scale “John the Baptist” to the phenomenon of X-Men, the ultimate “fan” comic.

The other thing that killed Legion, apart from Marvel’s Merry Mutants, that is, was the r-word: reboots. A reboot only works for some properties, but not others. You reboot something when you want to find something for a mass audience to respond to, like with Zorro, Batman, or Godzilla.

Legion, though, was not a comic for everybody, it was a fanboy/girl comic beloved by a niche who read it for continuing stories and minutiae (and to jack off, and in some cases, jill off). Rebooting a comic like that is a bad idea. You do not reboot something where the main way you engage with the property, the greatest strength, is the accumulated lore and history. Rebooting a property like that means losing the reason people like it, and unless it’s something with a wide audience, you only lose fans and won’t get anything in return for it. So for something like Legion (small fandom obsessed with long form plots and details, but unlike Trek, no name recognition) a reboot is the ultimate Achilles heel that shatters everything, a self-destruct button they kept hitting over and over and over until there was nothing at all left.

E. E. Smith’s Lensman Novels

The Lensman series is like Gil Evans’s jazz: it’s your grandparents’ favorite thing that you’ve never heard of. 

I mean, have you ever wondered exactly what scifi fandom talked about before the rise of the major core texts and cultural objects (Star Trek, Asimov, etc)? Well, it was this. Lensmen was the subject of fanfiction mailed in manilla envelopes during the 30s, 40s, and 50s (some of which are still around). If you’re from Boston, you might recognize that the two biggest and oldest scifi cons there going back to the 1940s, Boskone (Boscon, get it?) and Arisia, are references to the Lensman series. This series not only created space opera as we know it, but contributed two of the biggest visuals in scifi, the interstellar police drawn from different alien species, and space marines in power armor.

My favorite sign of how big this series was and how fans responded to it, was a great wedding held at Worldcon that duplicated Kimball Kinnison and Clarissa’s wedding on Klovia. This is adorable:

The basic story is pure good vs. evil: galactic civilization faces a crime and piracy wave of unprecedented proportions from technologically advanced pirates (the memory of Prohibition, where criminals had superior firearms and faster cars than the cops, was strong by the mid-1930s). A young officer, Kimball Kinnison (who speaks in a Stan Lee esque style of dialogue known as “mid-century American wiseass”), graduates the academy and is granted a Lens, an object from an ancient mystery civilization, who’s true purpose is unknown.

Lensman Kinnison discovers that the “crime wave” is actually a hostile invasion and assault by a totally alien culture that is based on hierarchy, intolerant of failure, and at the highest level, is ruled by horrifying nightmare things that breathe freezing poison gases. Along the way, he picks up allies, like van Buskirk, a variant human space marine from a heavy gravity planet who can do a standing jump of 20 feet in full space armor, Worsel, a telepathic dragon warrior scientist with the technical improvisation skills of MacGyver (who reads like the most sadistically minmaxed munchkinized RPG character of all time), and Nandreck, a psychologist from a Pluto-like planet of selfish cowards.

The scale of the conflict starts small, just skirmishes with pirates, but explodes to near apocalyptic dimensions. This series has space battles with millions of starships emerging from hyperspacial tubes to attack the ultragood Arisians, homeworld of the first intelligent race in the cosmos. By the end of the fourth book, there are mind battles where the reflected and parried mental beams leave hundreds of innocent bystanders dead. In the meantime we get evil Black Lensmen, the Hell Hole in Space, and superweapons like the Negasphere and the Sunbeam, where an entire solar system was turned into a vacuum tube.

It’s not hard to understand why Lensmen faded in importance. While the alien Lensmen had lively psychologies, Lensman Kimball Kinnison was not an interesting person, and that’s a problem when scifi starts to become more about characterization. The Lensman books, with their love of police and their sexism (it is an explicit plot point that the Lens is incompatible with female minds – in canon there are no female Lensmen) led to it being judged harshly by the New Wave writers of the 1960s, who viewed it all as borderline fascist military-scifi establishment hokum, and the reputation of the series never recovered from the spirit of that decade.

Prisoner of Zenda

Prisoner of Zenda is a novel about a roguish con-man who visits a postage-stamp, charmingly picturesque Central European kingdom with storybook castles, where he finds he looks just like the local king and is forced to pose as him in palace intrigues. It’s a swashbuckling story about mistaken identity, swordfighting, and intrigue, one part swashbuckler and one part dark political thriller.

The popularity of this book predates organized fandom as we know it, so I wonder if “fandom” is even the right word to use. All the same, it inspired fanatical dedication from readers. There was such a popular hunger for it that an entire library could be filled with nothing but rip-offs of Prisoner of Zenda. If you have a favorite writer who was active between 1900-1950, I guarantee he probably wrote at least one Prisoner of Zenda rip-off (which is nearly always the least-read book in his oeuvre). The only novel in the 20th Century that inspired more imitators was Sherlock Holmes. Robert Heinlein and Edmond “Planet Smasher” Hamilton wrote scifi updates of Prisoner of Zenda. Doctor Who lifted the plot wholesale for the Tom Baker era episode, “Androids of Tara,” Futurama did this exact plot too, and even Marvel Comics has its own copy of Ruritania, Doctor Doom’s Kingdom of Latveria. Even as late as the 1980s, every kids’ cartoon did a “Prisoner of Zenda” episode, one of the stock plots alongside “everyone gets hit by a shrink ray” and the Christmas Carol episode.

Prisoner of Zenda imitators were so numerous, that they even have their own Library of Congress sub-heading, of “Ruritanian Romance.” 

One major reason that Prisoner of Zenda fandom died off is that, between World War I and World War II, there was a brutal lack of sympathy for anything that seemed slightly German, and it seems the incredibly Central European Prisoner of Zenda was a casualty of this. Far and away, the largest immigrant group in the United States through the entire 19th Century were Germans, who were more numerous than Irish or Italians. There were entire cities in the Midwest that were two-thirds German-born or German-descent, who met in Biergartens and German community centers that now no longer exist.

Kurt Vonnegut wrote a lot about how the German-American world he grew up in vanished because of the prejudice of the World Wars, and that disappearance was so extensive that it was retroactive, like someone did a DC comic-style continuity reboot where it all never happened: Germans, despite being the largest immigrant group in US history, are left out of the immigrant story. The “Little Bohemias” and “Little Berlins” that were once everywhere no longer exist. There is no holiday dedicated to people of German ancestry in the US, the way the Irish have St. Patrick’s Day or Italians have Columbus Day (there is Von Steuben’s Day, dedicated to a general who fought with George Washington, but it’s a strictly Midwest thing most people outside the region have never heard of, like Sweetest Day). If you’re reading this and you’re an academic, and you’re not sure what to do your dissertation on, try writing about the German-American immigrant world of the 19th and 20th Centuries, because it’s a criminally under-researched topic.

A. Merritt

Pop quiz: who was the most popular and influential fantasy author during the 1930s and 40s? 

If you answered Tolkien or Robert E. Howard, you’re wrong - it was actually Abraham Merritt. He was the most popular writer of his age of the kind of fiction he did, and he’s since been mostly forgotten. Gary Gygax, creator of Dungeons and Dragons, has said that A. Merritt was his favorite fantasy and horror novelist.

Why did A. Merritt and his fandom go away, when at one point, he was THE fantasy author? Well, obviously one big answer was the 1960s counterculture, which brought different writers like Tolkien and Lovecraft to the forefront (by modern standards Lovecraft isn’t a fantasy author, but he was produced by the same early century genre-fluid effluvium that produced Merritt and the rest). The other answer is that A. Merritt was so totally a product of the weird occult speculation of his age that it’s hard to even imagine him clicking with audiences in other eras. His work is based on fringe weirdness that appealed to early 20th Century spiritualism and made sense at the time: reincarnation, racial memory, an obsession with lost race stories and the stone age, and weirdness like the 1920s belief that the Polar Arctic is the ancestral home of the Caucasian race. In other words, it’s impossible to explain Merritt without a ton of sentences that start with “well, people in the 1920s thought that...” That’s not a good sign when it comes to his universality. 

That’s it for now. Do you have any suggestions on a dead fandom, or do you keep one of these “dead” fandoms alive in your heart?

[agent-7-at-your-service]

The Hamartia Arc - Plot: Urchinball (Part 1)

((Agent 7, Agent Beta 10 (Mentioned), Agent M (Mentioned), and Laguna “Garza” Rayne belong to me

Lee Squidly and Janine Squidly (Mentioned) belongs to @inklingleesquidly​

Agent 0 (Mentioned) belongs to @son-of-joy

Robin (Mentioned) belongs to @alpinesquid

Agent Blueshift (Mentioned) belongs to @myzzy

Mercury (Mentioned) belongs to @teamuntyblue

In Hakodate, a committee helped Agent 7 and Laguna dock the Skjold-Class Corvette ship. They were all inklings, octolings, and Ghost sharklings in military uniforms and gas masks.  A jeep is prepared for the two to depart for the capital of Sapporo.

A Ghost Sharkling is driving for them. He spoke through his gas mask. “Kamuy-Supreme has expected you to come to him. He apologizes for any attempts to harm you. He would like to speak with you in the restoring city of Sapporo.”

Laguna looks at Agent 7. “Water’s must be retreating along with the ice caps and returning.”

“Just take us to Hector Norman,” Agent 7 told the driver, “I know what my father did.”

Sapporo is being restored starting with the heart of the city. So far, a government office was restored from a museum to its former purpose. South of it is Odori Park, and southwest is the Sapporo TV Tower. There were also some buildings for stores, markets, and apartments.

Civilians and Militia were walking about peacefully. The city is thriving after so many years, but its reconstruction is developing fast.

Laguna appeared indifferent to the sight of the city. Agent 7 wondered how his father caused the Amemasu Federation to fall like this only to return possibly stronger than ever.

At first, Agent 7 expected the jeep to stop at the government office, but instead, it stops at the Sapporo TV Tower.

“Hector awaits, Mr. Cassius,” the driver stated.

Agent 7 and Laguna get off the jeep. Laguna decided to stay where she is.

“May I explore for a bit, Seven?” Laguna ask.

“Very well,” Agent 7 replied. He went in alone.

The elevator was disabled at the moment, so Agent 7 had to make his way up the tower through stairs and ladders. When he reaches the needed room, the place was a massive office with relics of Humanity showed on display and a dining table. It was like a mini palace.

Food is being served on the table and at the end of the table is the “Kamuy Supreme” himself: Hector Norman.

“Please, sit down and have dinner with me,” Hector spoke through his mask, “It’s great to meet the son of the leader of Conesnail Splatoon.”

Agent 7 cautiously sat down.

Chicken, curry, basmati rice, and Caesar salad was being served on the table along with sides such as clam chowder and onion rings. Drinks are also being served with Hector drinking carbonated water an Agent 7 drinking ginger ale.

When they had enough to eat and drink, Hector started the conversation.

“Before I say anything, I apologize for the drones and the attack made on you and your allies,” Hector began, “Grudges are strong.”

“You know why I came here?” Agent 7 questioned.

“You came all this way to see your father’s enemy,” Hector replied with a question, “You think Cuttlefish still thinks of me a fool? He broke the promise.”

“You started it first,” Agent 7 argued.

“The forefathers of Inkopolis refused my people their home,” Hector grimly replied, “I did what I thought was right. The fight between Inklings and Octarians is a meaningless fight, and the Inklings made their mistake through bad faith.”

“As for my father?” Agent 7 narrowed his eyes.

“As for your father, he called my bluff in the game I made for him, but he knew the consequences.” Hector took a sip of his carbonated water. “And I failed to foresee you, the son of Jason Cassius.”

“You don’t know me...” Agent 7 gets up.

“Oh I know you -- The Brethrens of the Brine have been watching you for me,” Hector confessed, “From your sad childhood to that complete divorce.”

Agent 7 glared. “How much do you know?”

Hector then gave a grim look that was lifeless yet ominous.

“You think that if you keep the agent name, you’ll be recognized by the community you call your friends and family? Do you think Heroism and the reputation of the Agent are stained by the word of one kid or by a new generation? And do you even think they’ll all remember you?” 

“Hector, that kid..... Lee didn’t mean those things... also, he’s just a kid.” Agent 7 has set aside his suspicions on the Squidlys a year ago.

Hector continued.

“And how about that girl, Robin, she loves you, but you both knew it was impossible. Then you hated her out of anger, blaming her for Agent M’s death.” 

“Don’t even mention that... I apologized for lashing out at her. Agent M’s death was sacrificial.” Agent 7 can see Hector shake his head. “I don’t see Robin that much anymore... We’re still friends...

Hector continued.”

“Finally, there’s Marie, the squid who was with many lovers but couldn’t decide. That’s what you thought of her. What were the last words before you left Marie? After all that has happened? With Blueshift? With Agent 0? With the failed clones who she never introduced to you.”

Agent 7 didn’t reply to that. He loves Marie, but he has done enough with her. It was for the best. As for Blueshift, Agent 0, and other he rivaled with over Marie, Agent 7 is better than to cause such love rivalries now. Mercury was a different story for him.

Hector then gave a lecture.

“Heroes fall from grace from one simple factor whether it be the bonds of love or the guidance of a former hero. I don’t know why you care for everyone when they don’t need you in their lives. Yet, you get in their lives anyway. Why do you do so? What do you really fear, Agent 7?”

Again, Agent 7 didn’t reply. However, he kept that in mind, but that made things worse with the thoughts clouding his mind.

“You better get going then,” Hector gets up and faces the windows, “You have a city to protect.”

Agent 7 immediately leaves.

“My social experiment has begun,” Hector stated as Agent 7 leaves.

[To Be Continued]

[minervacasterly]

Henry VII: The Red Dragon’s Unlikely Triumph

Henry's victory to success is simply amazing due to how far down he was in the line of succession -if he was at all! Of all the Tudors, and don't get me wrong I love them all! He had the most adventurous life! His life is the stuff of movies and you'll see why. Henry was born to Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond and Margaret Beaufort, heiress of Lancaster in Philippa Gregory's words. But she was far removed from the line of succession! The Beauforts derived their name from a castle John of Gaunt had in his possession in English occupied French territory. John of Gaunt married three times, the last to his mistress Katherine Swybford. When they married their children were already grown up but by no means less ambitious. In an effort to ingratiate himself with the shifty king Richard II, John betrayed many of his comrades and persecuted anyone who stood against the king, his nephew. In return for his good services, Richard II legitimized all the Beauforts but that's it. No say if they were inthe succession or not. Later after John died, his firstborn, Henry Bolingbroke ascended to the throne after he deposed Richard. He didn't overturn Richard's legislation but added a new restriction: The Beauforts were legitimate in the eyes of the law of men but due to their revious bastard status they were excluded from the line of succession. So bye-bye ambitions. By the time Henry IV's grandson had issue, this changed altogether. Their descendants were still seen as progeny of a bastard branch (albeit legitimized) of the House of Lancaster but their status had changed overnight as support build around the Duke of York and his Neville relations (who also descended from the Beaufort line, but through the female line). Henry VI betrothed his young relation, Margaret Beaufort to his half brother Edmund Tudor. He was thirteen years her senior and while it was common for women to be married at a young age, people still found it disturbing because the groom didn't wait for her to grow up. As soon as she was 12, he married her and the next year she was pregnant. Edmund and his brother Jasper had supported the Duke of York on various occasions but when the conflict escalated to war, the Tudor brothers sided with their kin. Edmund was captured during battle in late 1456 and died in attenpts to escape, possibly of sickness. Margaret , thirteen at a time, was already a young widow and expectant mother. She feared for her safety and the safety of her unborn child so she started a dangerous sojourn to Wales, to Pembroke castle where her brother in law resided. There, she gave birth to her only child, a boy she named Henry. Henry did not have a lonely childhood like some Ricardians and fiction writerss love to depict, nor was his mother a crazy fanatic. She was the same as the rest of the women. Religion was not separate, it was part of women's lives, especially the adoration of female saints and the virgin Mary from whom women kept relics and images to pray to so they could be safely delivered or to protect their young. Of this latter cult, Henry became a firm follower, worshipping the image of the blessed mother with the same fervor as his mother. Likely, the little boy had childhood companions like David Owen, the illegitimate son of his grandfather by an unknown mistress. In spite of her second marriage, Margaret was allowed to visit her little boy and spend hours teaching him, but then her fortunes changed when Edward Earl of March forced the Lancastrians to flee and was declared king by popular acclaim in March 4 1461. Margaret and her new husband now had to curry favor with the new regime and to prove their loyalty, they had to let her son go. Edward saw Henry Tudor as a potential threat and to neutralize this threat he gave his custody to a loyal Yorkist, William Herbert and his wife Anne. They raised Henry as if he was one of their own, and he had the company of the new Earl's other wards. But Henry knew that a prison made of gold was still a prison. One mistake from his mother, his guadians or worse, his runaway uncle and he would be dealt with. After the Lancastrian Readeption which only lasted a year, Jasper Tudor was forced to flee yet again. This time he took his nephew with him. The deaths of every Lancaster made Henry a potential threat. Every male Beaufort was also gone. Margaret had to let him go once more, this time she would not see him for another fourteen years. Bad weather brought them to the court of Francis II, Duke of Brittany. There he continued his education, by the time of Richard III's accession, he enjoyed the company of many English exiles, among them the formidable and staunch Lancastrian loyalist -Earl of Oxford. It was in Brittanny, that December of 1483 after it was clear that the princes were gone for good, that he made a promise to marry Elizabeth of York and become King of England, thus uniting both bloodlines, the Houses of York and Lancaster into one. The next year and a half he spent his time planning, borrowing money and now in the court of France, currying favor with the French king. He had tried to invade England but failed. What made Henry think, the French king and others told him, he could succeed? But they didn't know Henry. He was by now an educated, cosmopolitan young man who was also confident that god was on his side. On July 29 1485, Richard III gave the seal to Barrow, one of his officials to carry out his orders in the counties nearby and prepare for war. To be fair, Richard III was the most experienced soldier here. He had known the horrors of war since he was very little and his life parallels Henry's but unlike the latter he had been participant in many military campaigns and had the entire North at his disposal. Henry had mercenaries, disatisfied English exiles, Edwardian Yorkists and most of Wales with him, but that was not enough to beat Richard's armies. On August 7, Henry's ships docked on Milford Haven. According to Fabyan when he disembarked he knelt and thanked god, reciting the Psalm 43: 'Judica me deus & discern causam mean'. -Judge me, Oh god, and distinguish my cause. The following days he spent recruiting, some of Richard's most staunch supporters defected to Henry, others refused to fight and just stood by as the two armies clashed on August 22. Others like his stepfather, chose to intervene in his favor only when the tide turned against him. After William Brandon, his standard bearer was struck down, Stanley and his brother with his armies charged down, and with their combined forced Richard's was cut down. Richard, according to various sources screamed 'traitors' and refused to go, instead seeking to confront Henry, but he never got to. The enemy got to him and he was forced down from his horse and minutes later, killed. It was a glorious day for Henry Tudor, now Henry VII. He had won against all odds, but the war was from over. Henry would face many pretenders and plots against him, his mother knew and she cried tears of fear, likely anticipating all her son would have to endure. He died in 1509 after twenty four years of reign.