#martha is the correct answer though

[lizstiel]

hear me out, I just think he looks good covered in b—(I am forcibly removed from the doctor who convention)

[cruel-simmer]

So I've never done anything like this before and idk what possessed me to do it now but here we are I guess! Each generation of this challenge is inspired by a Doctor Who (2005-) companion! Some generations are more strict or packed with things to do than others. Same with how closely they stick to the life of the companions - some things are accurate, some stuff is loosely based Currently there's 11 generations with the final one being Dan Lewis plus three bonus generations. I will be updating this challenge with future companions (Ruby etc) whenever their time on the main show comes to an end. I will also be making a TS3 version of this as soon as I can that I will update this post to include a link to Check out a spreadsheet checklist version of the challenge HERE. It is simplified slightly for ease so if you plan on doing this challenge make sure to read through the full requirements below first so you don't miss anything! If you do this challenge and plan on posting it I'd love if you used #tscompanionlegacy so I can see it LAST UPDATE 10/06/24 (keep reading for details)

UPDATES 10/06/24

Complete Yaz generation overhaul

Three bonus generations (Jack, River, Nardole) added

Misc typo corrections

Changed Martha generation degree

Some generation colour switches

Heirs don't need to be the same gender, sexuality etc as the character their generation is inspired by

Normal or long lifespan is recommended

Use as few cheats as possible

All asterisk (*) mark generation requirements are optional

As your heirs age up, give them the required traits in the order that they're listed

Each generation has a colour (assigned mostly based on an outfit that the companion wears in the show) and you can use it as much or little as you like

There is a connection between each generation in their descriptions but you could ignore them and do the legacy in a random order if you wanted to

If baby specifics aren't mentioned anywhere in the generation rules assume you can have as many or few as you like as long as you have at least one to continue to legacy

Basically all of this is just a guide, you should just do what you want in order to get the most fun out of this challenge

You aren't sure what you're doing with your life. You have a tiny home, a rubbish part-time job and no real plans for the future. You're starting to think that's what your whole life is going to consist of until one day you begin to notice the new town you've moved into might be called StrangerVille for a reason. People are acting weird and keeping secrets and no one seems to wants to sort it out so you decide the person to do that will be you. This hunt for answers gives you new purpose and kick starts a love for all things science and aliens.

Aspiration: StrangerVille Mystery Traits: Jealous, Outgoing, Generous Career: Retail Employee, Scientist World: StrangerVille Colour: Pink

Live in the StrangerVille trailer park at least until your aspiration is complete

Work a part-time job as a Retail Employee

Complete the StrangerVille Mystery aspiration before becoming an Adult

Join the Scientist career ASAP after completing aspiration

Create a portal and visit Sixam

Have at least one alien baby with an alien

*Max the logic skill

*Complete the Alien collection

*Reach the top of the Scientist career

If growing up with a Scientist parent, an Alien sibling and the stories of how your parent freed StrangerVille taught you anything it's there's a lot of stuff out there that needs finding, containing and keeping track of. So you decide to make it your job to ensure that happens! It's not your whole life though. There are other things important to you as well, like love and adventure, and you do your best to make sure your job doesn't take over and leave no time for those other things.

Aspiration: Academic Traits: Genius, Romantic, Self-Assured Career: Military (Covert Operator Branch) World: Oasis Springs Colour: Dark Red

If you are an Alien, be stealthy about it in public/at work

Get a Psychology degree

Fall in love with someone who loves someone else more

Go on at least four vacations in your lifetime

Marry a co-worker

Have one child

*Max the research and debate, fitness and logic skills

*Reach the top of the Military career

*Complete the Academic aspiration

Your young adult life doesn't start out as being what you thought it would be - there's an incident with a partner who turns out to be Evil, you can't find a full-time job, living with your parents long past when they envisioned you'd be living with them starts to break down your relationship - but somewhere down the line it starts working out. You find passion in a job you're good at, a stable relationship that makes you happy, and a child you dedicate your life to protecting. You do still get under your parents feet but they don't mind as much now that you're making something of yourself.

Aspiration: Super Parent Traits: Mean, Loyal, Family-Oriented Career: Retail Employee, Tech Guru (Start-Up Entrepreneur Branch) World: Oasis Springs, then Any Colour: Light Brown

Live with your parents until they die and if you want to move out of Oasis Springs you have to wait until they die to do it

Have a rocky relationship with parents from YA onwards until you get married

Play the lottery regularly

Get into a relationship with an Evil Sim and be the one to propose to them

Either get left at the altar or have your partner die before you get married

Find a new partner and marry them

Join Tech Guru career only once you're dating your future spouse

Have one child but only after marriage

*Max the programming and parenting skills

*Reach the top of the Tech Guru career

*Complete the Super Parent aspiration

*The beginning of the next two generations are quite same-y so if you don't feel like playing both of them you could just choose one path - Amy or Rory*

Despite your loving family growing up and the best friend turned significant other that worships the ground walk on, you can't help but feel there's something missing and you want more than the cozy little life that they want. You pretend for a while - there's a whirlwind proposal, wedding and pregnancy - but it's not long before it get's too much and you start putting yourself before the people around you. You don't just want to be some small town writer. You want to be a celebrity, and you want to live like one.

Aspiration: World-Famous Celebrity Traits: Creative, Noncommittal, Self-Absorbed Career: Writer (Freelance), Actor World: Chestnut Ridge then Del Sol Valley or San Myshuno Colour: Orange

*Max childhood creative skill

Have two BFFs growing up and start dating one of them as a teen

Move to Chestnut Ridge with your partner as soon as you become a YA

Get proposed to ASAP after moving out with your partner and get married within a week

Cheat on your partner once between getting engaged and married

Get pregnant on your wedding night and name your baby after your other childhood BFF

Get divorced as an Adult and have a negative relationship with your ex that you actively make worse

After the divorce, move to either Del Sol Valley or San Myshuno (with your child) and get a job as an Actor

Don't pursue another serious relationship

*Max the acting and writing skills

*Reach the top of the Actor career

*Complete the World-Famous Celebrity aspiration

Your parent points out to you how your life is shaping up to be like theirs - they had two childhood BFFs too! and started dating one of them! - and all you can think about is how badly that worked out for them and how much you want it to work out the opposite way for you. You want a big happy family, a picket fence and maybe a dog to go with it. You know just wanting it isn't enough to make it happen though so you put in work, work your more than willing to put in, to show how dedicated you are to this kind of life.

Aspiration: Soulmate Traits: Genius, Romantic, Socially Awkward Career: Doctor World: Henford-on-Bagley Colour: Light Blue

Have two BFFs growing up and start dating one of them as a teen

Move to a new world with your partner as soon as you become a YA

Propose ASAP after moving in with your partner and get married within a week

Get pregnant on your wedding night and name your baby after your other childhood BFF

Have chickens, cows and/or llamas

Go on a date with spouse at least once a week

Have at least three biological children

Adopt at least one baby/infant

*Complete the Village Fair Ribbons collection

*Max the handiness skill

*Reach the top of the Doctor career

*Complete the Soulmate aspiration

For the most part your life is average - you're a minimum wage teacher with a dead parent and your significant other is a co-worker - but then you meet a mad Scientist who you try to just stay friends with and tell your partner not to worry about but ultimately you're too drawn to them to keep away...

Aspiration: Fount of Tomarani Knowledge Traits: Bookworm, Flirty, Perfectionist Career: Babysitter, Education (Professor Branch) World: Tomarang Colour: Mustard/Gold

Have at least one parent die of something that isn't old age

Get a part-time job as a Babysitter while a teen

*Reach top of Babysitter career

Date a fellow teacher as a YA

Make friends with a Scientist and eventually cheat on your partner with them

Leave your partner for the Scientist

Have at least one day/night out in every world

Be enemies with your Scientist partner's best friend

Have your Scientist partner make at least two clones of you (it's up to you what you do with them)

Never get married

*Max the research and debate skill

*Complete the Postcards collection

*Reach the top of Education career

*Complete Fount of Tomarani Knowledge aspiration

For a while you think a Fast Food employee is all you're destined to be which is fine you guess but you were just expecting more. On a whim you apply to university and before long you're moving in, making friends, falling in love and changing your whole life!

Aspiration: Friend of the World or Good Vampire Traits: Cheerful, Foodie, Outgoing Career: Fast Food, Astronaut (Space Ranger Branch) World: Britchester, Any Colour: Purple

Get a Fast Food part-time job as a YA

Don't start university until after reaching the top of the Fast Food part-time job

Live in a Britchester shared house while at university

Become best friends with one of your professors

Make a vampire friend who later becomes an enemy

Become a vampire

Date someone at university but break up with them by the time you graduate

Get a Physics degree

Go on at least two dates with two different Sims

Go on at least two vacations with your university professor

Reconnect with your ex from university as a late adult and give up your life as a vampire

*Max the charisma, rocket science and fitness skills

*Complete the Friend of the World or Good Vampire aspiration

*Reach the top of the Astronaut career

You're known for two things - making food and making jokes. You don't go anywhere without a sacked lunch and you always have a dad joke on hand. You can't imagine why it takes you so long to find the true love of your life. And why do they have to be gone so soon?

Aspiration: Master Chef or Angling Ace Traits: Dance Machine, Glutton, Cringe Career: Culinary (Chef Branch) World: Brindleton Bay Colour: Brown

Take a sack lunch with you whenever you go out or to work

Have at least one child

Teach your heir child to ride a bike

Don't meet the true love of your life until you're an elder

Throw a big wedding party (and dance a lot)

Have your spouse die before you do (either via an 'accident' or you can just cheat it so that your spouse is a few days older)

*Max the cooking and gourmet cooking skills

*Max the fishing skill

*Complete the fish collection

*Reach the top of the Culinary career

*Complete the Master Chef or Angling Ace aspiration

As a child your parent taught you to ride a bike and it kick started your love of sports. As a teen you became Clumsy and it knocked your confidence. As a result you pursue a job in Social Media (which you definitely enjoy but it's not quite your childhood dream of being an Athlete) and spend some time not doing many active things at all for fear of failure. Over time you find confidence in yourself and decide to dive in the deep end to get back into sports by hitting the slopes in Mt Komorebi.

Aspiration: Extreme Sports Enthusiast Traits: Active, Clumsy, Bro Career: Manual Labourer, Social Media (Internet Personality Branch), Athletic (Professional Athlete Branch) World: Any, *Mt. Komorebi Colour: Teal

Have a poor relationship with your non-heir parent

Get a part-time job as a Manual Labourer as a teen

Have a basketball hoop

Don't work your on aspiration until you're at least mid-YA

Reconnect with your teen BFF as an Adult

Meet your significant other in Mt. Komorebi

*Move to Mt. Komorebi

Once your midway through you aspiration, you can quit the Social Media career to become an Athlete (but you don't have to)

Have at least two children

*Max the video-gaming or athletic skill

*Max the skiing, snowboarding or rock-climbing skill

*Complete the Simmi collection

*Reach the top of the Athletic or Social Media career

*Complete the Extreme Sport Enthusiast aspiration

You love your job but you can't help but want more. One day you meet someone who throws into a world of potions and magic and might just give you the more that you've been wanting.

Aspiration: Spellcraft and Sorcery Traits: Gloomy, Loner, Ambitious Career: Detective World: Any Colour: Red

Don't have any friends as a teen

As a YA, become BFFS with a high ranking Spellcaster and fall in love with them quickly but don't make a move (kiss) them

Become a Spellcaster

*Quit job as a Detective

Have a film night with your sibling/s once a week

Move in with your BFF

Reveal your romantic feelings (and have at least one baby baby) with your BFF late in life

*Complete the Magical Artifacts collection

*Reach the top of the Detective career

*Complete the Spellcraft and Sorcery aspiration

Helping people (and animals) has always been in your nature so no one is shocked when you move to Sulani as soon as you are able to pursue a job in conservation to not just help the few people around you but hopefully the entire town. And you do most of it with a dog at your side.

Aspiration: Friend of the Animals Traits: Good, Dog Person, Nosy Career: Conservationist World: Sulani Colour: Black

Always have at least one dog

Be BFFs with every dog you have

Be left at the altar as a YA

Marry someone else that you've known for a while as a late Adult

Donate to charity at least twice a week

Max the pet training skill

*Max logic, handiness and charisma skills

*Reach the top of the Conservationist career

*Complete the Friend of the Animals aspiration

Aspiration: Serial Romantic Traits: Kleptomaniac, Flirty, Materialistic Career: Criminal (Oracle Branch)World: AnyColour: Dark Blue

Have a child that doesn't live in your household

Have at least four close friends

Drink a Potion of Youth a few days before aging into an Elder at least once. If you're already starting on the next generation before this point then keep this heir in the household until they've drank the potion and then after that you can move them out if you want to

*Max the mischief, programming and charisma skills

*Reach the top of the Criminal career

*Complete the Serial Romantic aspiration

Aspiration: Archaeology Scholar Traits: Bookworm, Romantic, Self-Assured Career: Writer (Author Branch)World: AnyColour: White

Get a Language and Literature degree

Don't become close with your parents until you've got your degree

Spend more time exploring the jungle than writing and explore as much of the jungle as possible

Have multiple long term partners before finding 'the one'

Have at least two spouses (with the final spouse being 'the one') over the course of your life

Have a small wedding for your final marriage and invite only your immediate family

Go on a date night with your final spouse at least once a week

Don't move in with your final spouse (or any previous partner) until you're a late Adult

*Die and have your spouse bring you back to life

*Max the archaeology and writing skills

*Complete either the Ancient Omiscan artifacts or Omiscan treasures collection

*Complete the Fossils collection

*Complete the Archaeology Scholar aspiration

Aspiration: Master Maker or Fiver-Star Property Owner Traits: Childish, Maker, Paranoid Career: Freelance Crafter World: Not Henford-on-Bagley, then Henford-on-BagleyColour: Rusty Orange

Decorate your home with things you fabricated

Be a Landlord

Be a Freelance Crafter

Create and activate at least one Servo

Marry a Sim from Henford-on-Bagley and then move there

*Max the fabrication skill

*Max the robotics skill

*Complete the Master Maker aspiration

[roadkillremi]

Randy Meeks X F!Ghostface!Reader

Headcannons

MasterList

Warnings : language, mentions killing, mentions guns, mentions stalking, there's a NSFW section.

Green - Randy

Pink - Ghostface/You

This has been on my mind...

Calls.

When the calls began you'd sit in your hiding spot waiting for him to answer.

You would watch him go to the phone, he was in his cartoon boxers. Which was so cute.

"Hello?.." "Whose this?.." "The Meeks residents.. listen if this is one of Martha's boy toys. I hate to say it but she's cheating." "I'm not calling for..Martha-"

You'd quiz him, at first you made it easy. You'd watch him jump a bit when he got it correct.

You'd continue to call randomly, he began to think it was a game.

"If you get this right... I'll tell you a secret." "Challenge accepted."

Once he got the questions right you'd whisper in the phone, "I'm a girl..".

"No way! Tatum was right it totally could've been a girl!!!"

From then on the voice filter was a female voice for him.

After a while of toying with him you'd start to scare him.

"Hello?" "hey, handsome." "Oh, it's you.." "Mm.. how's the movie? You know Stephen King hated how the shining turned out."

He'd panic and look around the house. You'd just watch him from afar.

True Identity.

The truth was. You were friends with Randy at school. You were in fact in the friend group.

You developed this unhealthy crush on him. But he liked Sydney even though Billy was with her.

You joined Billy with his Ghostface identity. (If you want you and Billy may have slept together. But you only had feelings for Randy)

Randy was pretty clueless. You weren't even in his suspect list.

You told Billy and Stu you wouldn't kill anyone. This kinda annoyed them.

You were also a bit clueless to their plan. (This will be mentioned later)

Ghostface Appearance

After some calls you started to appear outside his house.

"I may be outside as we speak.." "..W-what?" "Don't be so afraid.. I won't hurt you.. you're too precious."

He'd look out the window and saw Ghostface in his backyard. He'd awkwardly wave.

You also started to appear when he had a closing shift at work. You'd knock down a shelf or movies. He'd jump and stare at you afraid. Later you'd call him

"Sorry.. I just wanted to see your pretty face.." "it's.. alright.. you know you kinda seem short-" "shut the fuck up-"

One time Sydney claimed ghostface attacked her while he saw you in his backyard.

"So there's more of you?" "I don't kill people." "So you just stalk them?-" "only the cute ones.."

Randy started to enjoy your company. The calls seemed amusing and you never hurt him.

"It's you. You know you're gonna have to tell me who you are.." "I can't.." "why not?" "They'll... Be mad.." "the other.. ghostfaces?" "You have to trust me... The more you don't know the better."

Act 3

It was the party. You had a plan to tell Randy the truth. You spotted him in the living room and approached him.

"I need to talk to you.." "What's up?" "...I.. well.."

Stu would interrupt you guys before you could say anything.

Before the show down you got knocked out by Billy. You weren't brought out until Billy and Stu went on their killing spree

"Guess what, Randy and Syd!!! We weren't the only ones!!" Stu shouted. Billy yanked you awake shoving you in the kitchen.

"Tell him, Y/N.. tell him how pathetic you are." Billy growled pointing his gun to your head.

"I... It was me, Randy.. I called you.."

Randy seemed shocked and scared. So did Sydney she started to panic more.

"Aw don't cry! She didn't hurt anyone! She didn't even know about this.. she was too busy stalking him." Billy smiled.

You looked up at Randy ashamed.

"Why didn't you just tell me?.."

"See!, That's the thing! Every movie has a twist!!' Stu shouted. "We just used her! And now we're gonna frame her.".

"I swear I had no idea..."

Billy shoved you in Randy's direction. You fumbled trying to stand up. Randy stared at you in shock.

"I never was gonna hurt you."

Billy rolled his eyes, "Oh my god. Just admit your god damn love before I stab him!"

"I was mad you liked Sydney. And I wanted to just.. I don't know scare you.."

"... It was fun.."

"awww! He enjoyed it!" Stu laughed.

Billy leaned close to you, "now you have an option... Kill Sydney or Randy." Billy handed you a gun.

Long story short. You helped saved them.

Aftermath

It took Randy a second to not be in shock. You'd answer all his questions for him.

Sydney also was a bit worried for her safety but learned to trust you.

You and Randy soon started going out.

NSFW section.

Randy would definitely do phone sex with you as Ghostface. You'd watch him please himself as he moaned into the phone.

Once you got comfortable you hid a Polaroid of you in lingerie or just naked. You teased him telling him where to find it.

When you and randy have started dating. Roleplay of you as Ghostface would happen. He'd beg for you to dominate him.

[yourlocal-therian]

if i’m correct in assuming your requests are open, may i perhaps request a (female) common kestrel themed moodboard? if possible, with images of button house (west horsley place in east surrey), old-fashioned offices, and forgotten letters/documents? though it isn’t necessary if not possible ofc

also noticed you’re into doctor who i think?? which is brilliant!! i love doctor who! (i do need to catch up on the most recent episodes, though — i haven’t had the chance to just yet.) do you have a favourite doctor and/or companion, perhaps? :>

thank you so much in advance!

I am into doctor who!!!

cut if you're not interested in hearing:

DIDNWAKDVUQMVUNGK ok so I don't really know if I have a favorite doctor... I'm only really caught up to 11 (also not fully done with him) but I love every doctor. 9, 10, 11, I adore them all. I think it's SO RUDE that people just skip 9??? like yeah 10 is good and all but give 9 some love. (9 is my sister's favorite btw) Id say I love every doctor so far. I'm a bit scared for 13, as I've heard her story telling isn't well....the best? But I love Capaldi so I'm super excited for 12

As for companions, I definitely have an answer. The one and only Rose Tyler!!! I could go on and on about her she's my absolute favorite. To rank champions so far:

Rose

Amy

River

Donna

Jack

Martha

Mickey

I ABSLOUTLEY HATE MICKEY OKAY. ABSLOUTLEY DESPISE HIM HE'S JUST. HE ANNOYS ME.

I don't really hate Martha she just kinda got screwed by the narrative and story-telling, especially bc they wrote her as a love-sick puppy that we really just didn't need after losing Rose.

AMY!!! I LOVE AMY!! Rose is my no.1 but I adore Amy too. She needs therapy though..

Idk if I should put Rory on the list??? I also don't know if Mickey belongs but ehhh he's a companion in a few episodes.

Also I think River is cool even though I rarely get to see her, she's just really cool.

Contrary to most opinions, Donna is not my favorite. She's good and all but she just doesn't make it to my top 3, we'll see how I feel when I get to 14 though.

[jor-elsemissary]

Martha: so Lionel...you'd do anything for me?

Lionel: Without hesitation nor question

Martha: marry me

Lionel:

Lionel: Wait what?

Martha: It was to my understanding that you said ANYTHING *smirks*

Lionel *laughs* clever girl

Lionel getting Martha the first diamond that didn't symbolize he wants her out of his life but rather stay in for forever.

It had been a long time since he had actually shopped for jewelry. Normally he would have his secretary or someone else to choose and buy the jewelry for him to give to someone he wanted to indulge. Then again it had been an even longer time since he had ever wanted to indulge a woman he actually enjoyed the company of.

He forced himself not to think about Lillian and focused on the woman whom he was buying for tonight.

The jeweler patiently waited behind the counter while he browsed the selections beneath the bullet proof glass. Emeralds, sapphires, rubies, and diamonds were the most common and valuable choices. There were a few exotic stones that held no interest to him and he was certain that green one was meteor rock. He doubted the company was trying to pass it off as an emerald.

The fact that it was there was concerning and left him wondering if any of the other stones were variations of the meteor rock. The last thing he wanted to do was give the love of his life a gemstone that could hurt her son and hurt her. It left him feeling conflicted about the veracity of this store.

“You are aware that you have meteor rock in your selection?” he looked up at the man and saw a flicker of concern. So he was aware. “I am going to assume you’re attempting to sell it as is and not as another gemstone?”

“I assure you, Mister Luthor, that any piece is being sold as claimed. The selections of meteor rock are displayed with similar gemstones for aesthetics and comparison and all customers are informed of its type before being sold.” It was a little reassuring but it still worried him that he might end up with kryptonite.

“Are you aware that they are radioactive?” he continued to converse while his gaze drifted toward the diamond. As far as he knows there were no clear rocks that affected Clark. The ones he studied were inert and came off as just simple crystals.

“I have been informed that they are safe,” the jeweler answered and he can hear a hint of annoyance.

Lionel snorted in contempt, “Then you were misinformed. My company studies the rocks and they are highly radioactive and have been known to cause cancer and mutate individuals.” His gaze met the man’s firmly, “I was afflicted with cancer because of how close I worked with the stuff.”

There. He saw a flicker of concern as the man stole a glance at the green ones. “I will have the selections removed and request a deeper inquiry into the gemstones.”

“Crystals,” he corrected. “They’re crystals. The only value they have is that they’re exotic and from space. Now… any of the diamonds meteor rock?”

“No, Mister Luthor.”

“Good.” He tapped the glass above a diamond ring. It was a silver band with a large stone imbedded in the middle and smaller stones fanning out from the center, growing smaller the further away they were. “I’ll take this one in a size 9.”

The man was silent as he opened the case and removed the ring. He hoped that she would like it. The last time he had bought her a piece of jewelry, she had been conflicted because of her marriage to Jonathan Kent. This time, though, she was widowed and had been seeing him seriously for a little over a year now.

Diamond earrings were a symbol of break up for Luthor men. He didn’t want to do that with Martha Kent. A diamond ring, however, was the symbol of wanting the woman in his life forever. He hoped she would see and understand how much that meant to him.

He wanted to prove his love to her even though she did know how much he did love her. The part of him that sought her approval and trust, wanted to always prove his love. Because the moment he stopped, was the moment he no longer wanted her love.

Lionel accepted the velvet box and studied the ring more closely. Yes. He wanted Martha in his life forever and he knows deep down he could never stop loving her. He still loved Lillian after all that had been said and done, so he knows he’ll still love Martha should things turn for the worse between them.

He was determined to make this relationship work. If it meant compromises and bending to her will, he would do it.

Because he loved Martha Kent and nothing was going to be allowed to get between them.

[fatelesschild]

You might have already answered this before but I just started reading your Gallifreyan guide and dictionary!(I love it so much btw! It’s so cool and I’m seriously geeking out about it)

I was wondering how you chose each companions name in Gallifreyan? Was it just whatever sounded good or was there a particular thought process you went through (like this name means this in English so the Gallifreyan translation would be a word that’s similar in meaning)?

Oh hi! Oh really happy you're enjoying it, and I can certainly answer this one ...

There are a couple of names that already exist in Who lore (meyopapa, arkytior), so they stayed, though when it comes to other names, there is a slight bit of my own headcanon at play.

The language is more of a post-Time War language that's constantly being added to by the Doctor, so when creating a name the idea is that the Doctor's making up the words, putting together a kind of 'trait' and a suffix to describe the person.

Rolas for Jack uses 'rol' as a stem, which forms words like help/rescue/protect/warn

Jarbai for Martha uses 'jar', forming words like repair/heal/reattach

Klayya for Donna uses 'kla', forming words like trust/share/rely

To be honest, the language has evolved so much (as a language should) that those meanings have gotten slightly scattered and probably don't come through anymore, but it was never meant to be a rule anyway, just a subtle nod. I may or may not correct this for version 2; we'll see.

There's a question I was never expected to be asked and I enjoyed answering it immensely, thanks! :D

[rjalker]

I can't believe I have to insult Martha Wells this way. No one should be worse at writing something than Anne McCaffrey. And yet here we are.

There's only 3.2 more Dragonriders of Pern books for me to read before I've read literally all of them, and I very highly doubt either McCaffrey will have an opportunity to somehow retroactively fuck up this miraculous and probably entirely accidental accomplishment, so...

[ID: Text that reads, "Who would win?" over two sections of text. The first section is labeled, "Martha Wells, whose nonbinary protagonist who uses it/its pronouns has been misgendered in the books one time so far". This is fighting against the second section, labeled: "Anne McCaffrey, whose nonbinary character who used it/its pronouns was misgendered almost every single time it was spoken of". Larger text below both sections at the bottom of the image reads, "The answer may shock you!" with many exclamation marks and number ones. End Id.]

Anyways. It will never stop being hilarious to me that by having all the protagonists misgender AIVAS and having only Toric and a few other characters we're not supposed to like use its correct pronouns, Anne McCaffrey is accidentally proving how bigoted and ignorant her so-called heroes are and she doesn't even realize it 😂 [laughing crying emoji]. like she' just having them all admit they're raging misogynists who can't even imagine respecting anyone who's not a man but she hasn't actually grasped that this is what she is telling us about her beloved characters that she wants us to think are the most bestest people ever to exist and can do nothing wrong and are definitely not bad people even though they're fucking evil in too many ways to count. It's so fucking funny.

If you have no clue how AIVAS constantly being misgendered is better representation than everyone magically knowing Murderbot's pronouns I will elaborate if you're actually interested lol. It's hilarious.

[terastalungrad]

Big Brother UK 21: Episode 2

Monday 7 October 2024

Huge news: Izaaz is from SWANSEA! It's important to me for him to be good.

Martha reveals that Alison Hammond is one of her "top 3 people".

Khaled and Segun bond over their faiths - in Islam and Christianity respectively. I like this.

Daze and Martha bond over their pets - you've never seen two people more excited to both have rabbits.

Lily dislikes Sarah because of Sarah's poshness. She likes Thomas because he's an attractive boy. "Normally I go for, like, an ugly boy, because it's like, if I break up with them, they're ugly anyway."

Sarah feels overwhelmed, and tears up. Rosie comforts her wonderfully. I really like these two so far.

Currently, 5 contestants have housemate status, and 11 are non-housemates. The non-housemates will all face eviction. But there are chances for non-housemates to swap places with housemates by beating them in head-to-head challenges.

My preference would be for Ryan to lose housemate status and to be evicted. Very bored by the idea of an anti-woke housemate.

Failing that, it'd be nice if this was a rare series where the first evicted housemate wasn't a woman.

In a game of deception, Martha volunteers for the non-housemates. Lily also volunteers herself - and Sarah pushes to let Martha take this one, "first come first served".

Martha's done a good job of seizing this opportunity without looking selfish. Lily by contrast seemed nakedly ambitious. Sarah handled this well (though Lily might not agree).

Martha gets to choose her opponent from the housemates. The other non-housemates make suggestions, and Marcello is sleazy in the way he talks about Ali. He seemed sleazy to me on launch night as well.

Martha chooses Ryan. Result! I am VERY invested in this. I really like Martha and strongly dislike Ryan.

Segun recommends Ryan stay calm. Segun seems very zen.

Ooh, if Martha wins, she can choose two non-housemates to join her! There's a lot of housemates facing eviction at the moment.

Here's the game. Martha and Ryan and brought into a room with a cake and two red buttons. The cake is blown up, covering the room in cake. Another housemate enters - Ali, selected by her fellow housemates as the best judge of character. Martha and Ryan must try and convince Ali that their opponent pressed the button that blew up the cake.

So there's no correct answer, since neither pressed the button. But also ... will Ali think it's more important to get it "right", or choose the housemate she likes the most?

Martha and Ryan present their accounts. Ali says: "Why do you BOTH sound like you're lying?"

Incredible work. Ali is too powerful. She is the Charlie Cale of Big Brother. By which I mean the Natasha Lyonne character, not the rugby union player.

Ali chooses Ryan as the liar. Legend!

Martha chooses Hanah and my fave Rosie to join her. Emma makes a catty comment that suggests she'ls a sore loser.

This is a huge win for me. Now the three housemates I like least are in storage (Ryan, Nathan, Marcello), and the three housemates I like most are housemates (Rosie, Izaaz, Ali).

The non-housemates are stuck in the "storage" area of the house, a stripped-down room full of props that reference older series of the show. They're provided with divisive foods - gherkins, sardines, pickled onions, cockles. Most non-housemates are distressed by this, but Lily loves this food. Perhaps a class divide, this.

In the main bedroom, Izaaz and Khaled play rock-paper-scissors for one of the beds. It's cute and playful.

Emma's finding Lily hard work. Lily's loud and energetic, so not necessarily easy energy for the storage room. Lily's making her own fun, by e.g. counting to 60 loudly, or dressing as Lady Gaga and singing Bad Romance at the top of her voice.

Hanah is really growing on me too. She's incredibly funny.

Like last year, the 16 housemates are presented on a 4x4 board in the living room, with nominated housemates labelled.

At 4.34am, Lily does some loud clowning, and Nathan makes a pointed remark. I don't think anyone's completely not annoyed by Lily.

[lilicannotfly]

the essex serpent, part one, february.

. . .

my general thoughts, feelings and notes. this is not a formal review by any means, more of a journal entry. warning. this will contain spoilers for both the book The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry and the show The Essex Serpent (2022) aired on Apple TV+.

. . .

MY OVERALL THOUGHTS.

Much happened in February, what with our meeting of Spencer, Cora's journey to Colchester, her learning of the serpent, her meeting with Charles Ambrose, our meeting of Will Ransome (as well as Cracknell) and her (unknowing) meeting of Will Ransome, and Joanne (and friends) performing the ritual to bring spring to her town. It was paced reasonably enough for a February, as February is a strange in-between kind of month by nature, though it does confuse me that winter was to be over by now, but then again, it was a different time.

. . .

PASSAGES HIGHLIGHTED.

I have figured out that my page number citations last time were incorrect, as I have my page display settings on my NOOK app adjusted quite a bit. I can't be bothered to go back and rectify that, but I am a good seventy to eighty percent sure that they are correct this time :) (If they aren't, please don't tell me, I will cry /gen)

page 29. This simply seemed like an interesting way of phrasing the concept. Please don't get tired of this reasoning, you will be seeing it a lot.

page 29. This was of little importance, I simply found it funny and highlighted it so I could find it to show the page to a friend. It is, however, interesting to highlight the contrast between the two, especially when paired with the excerpt from page 34

page 29. I, once again, enjoyed how this was phrased, and thought I ought to be able to easily return to it.

page 31. This struck me as beautiful. I also thought it was interesting that they changed it to a heart in the show.

page 34.

page 34. I like how this contrasts with the passage highlighted on page 29, and further drives home how Spencer and Luke are like Sun and Moon.

page 36. I do not actually remember why this was highlighted. I assume I had things to say about the way it was phrased, but oh well.

page 38. This seemed funny to me.

page 42. I like the inclusion of the book, but I do not remember what other reason I highlighted this for.

page 42. I must say, while I can understand where she is coming from with this, people who hold such a stance make me weary, even though as I said it is understandable. Something saddening about being too tired for discussion/debate.

page 44. I find the phrasing of being "beneath being shocked" interesting, as usually it would be written that one is above such things. I like the vibe it adds to his character.

page 47. This I also found funny, and only highlighted to make it easier to show a friend (that I never did, I feel as though I am bothering them with this. I have, however, returned to it myself and had a chuckle.)

page 47. I find the relationship she holds with her son interesting, to say the least. I don't know how to put the thoughts I have into words, though.

page 49. "as if some slow-witted parson and his fat-cheeked children could interest her Cora!" Girl if you don't shut up TwT "her Cora" Oh my starssssss I love Martha but she can make me cringe as well as Luke can

page 54. This is rather funny as it is so incredibly wrong.

page 54. "threat of a probably harmless widow" frankly killed me. My funeral will be next Wednesday, none of y'all are invited.

page 58. To quote the note I had written when I read it: "I enjoy when architecture is personified in such a way, especially when it is personified not for properties that it itself holds-feeling, decay, etc-but for the way it is molded by the creatures surrounding it." I do not think I explained myself in an understandable manner but I understand what I was trying to say so I don't care lols

page 68. I find this response interesting, as when I was a kid that would be the answer as to why it shouldn't've been done (you'll have to pay for it)

page 68. I find it interesting how Michael is brought up in the story, and how as we learn about her we also learn about him and how he affected her. I did have more to say, but I didn't write it down, and as such it has flown my mind so the other thing I can say about this is "I found the phrasing interesting and it touched a strange place in my heart."

page 72.

page 77. I decided this was poetic, though to be honest it is simply logical.

page 83. This line of thought is logical, and I feel it explains his eccentrics better than his introduction could.

page 85. The spirit that this adds to Reverend Ransome is enjoyable.

. . .

TO MAKE NOTE.

Once again, Doctor Garrett seems to have an almost overwhelming presence, but not quite in a bad way. He simply has a spirit about him, a liveliness that can be felt through the pages. And it's not just that the author is telling us that either. I enjoy the little things we learn about him within chapter one, and the interactions we have with Spencer. I am unsure if this is a failing on my part, but Spencer to me is a memorable character with a fairly forgettable name-I continue to call him Samuel and George interchangeably. (and though George is his first name, it is vaguely disrespectful of me, in my opinion.)

On a similar note, I enjoy how each character's letters are written in their unique voices. It is a small detail, but I enjoy it nonetheless.

Martha's vague pessimistic optimism was easy enough to pick up on in the show, but what I did not see that I was surprised to see now in the book was her judgmental tendencies! Paired with her wit, it is rather amusing, though I did find it strange that someone so into political and social reform would look down upon people simply for where they live, but I suppose it is the little intricacies that truly make a character. Either that, or I suppose that I simply forgot how prejudiced people tend to be to folk from more rural areas. On a similar vein of thought, I really do think we should've gotten to see more of Charles in the show, even if only just for a few more minutes. I feel as though we learned an excess of information about him and his wife in the one scene he's been present in so far-though that information would do little to further the plot of the show, it would be neat to see how they would've thought to implement it. Though this could also be me not being able to read details in shows properly. Much to think on.

The way in which we are allowed to get a feel for the spirit of Reverend Ransome is lovely, in my opinion. I feel for him, what with his feeling of having failed his congregation. Terrible feeling to have.

We learn so much about the Cora as we learn about the people around her, and this I enjoy immensely. The way it is written feels very much like the way my internal monologue goes sometimes, and this makes it a comforting read as well as an intriguing one.

I apologise for how pointless and rambling this was, though in my defense I did say that this was a bit of a journal entry lols I also should allow myself to be looser with my writing here, no one is going to judge me.

Oh actually I forgot to add that I thoroughly enjoy the relationship between Cora and Martha, and I love the way Martha is written in relation to her, but also sometimes Martha's protectiveness verging on possessiveness annoys me just a smidge but that is likely purposeful and also I understand where she's coming from but also I just wanted to say that because I decided that is an important thing to say.

[caffeinatedmunchkin]

I have some more to share I hope that's cool 🤙

🚨 very much First Draft, same warnings still apply 🚨

"Are there any in God's kingdom whom he doesn't love?" A simple question, a soft open. A peek inside the minds of babes, some of which will join his flock when they come of age.

A hand sprouts upright. Thrust into the air, finger-tips wiggling to attention. Almost lifts you out of the seat by the sheer desire to deliver the answer you're so assured of. He looks to the body attached to the enthusiasm, and there you are. Fresh-faced anticipation. Lips licked anxious. Your hair pulled back and pleated in a french-braid.

Tipping his head to call on you, you then assert; "Bad people." Direct, the answer as obvious as the midday sun. A hint of attitude curls your statement, flames licking twigs in a bonfire, knobby and figure-less. You're missing a top incisor. He smiles.

"Oh child, he loves even them." He's smooth, rich warmth, a caramel melt for the ear. A chest-deep baritone that flips your stomach over as he proceeds. His smile crooks, but there's not a hint of placation. "Especially them."

The sourest pout challenges him, but Sister Martha cuts in on your behalf. Muzzling what was sure to be invigorating debate with her chirp of thanks for the good Father Brennan, and his time shared.

A tug at his pant leg pulls his attention down to that same, dissatisfied scowl twisting up at him. The insistence in your tiny fist and the furrow of your brow tells him his answer has left you wholly unsatisfied. He'd heard of one such audacious, and though your introduction is hardly complete, he surmises he's just met her.

"Yes, little lass?" He tries then to be placative, affable even, in the way the wee-ones require. It bristles you, though your bark is clipped into pragmatism.

"Not little." Non-combative, your correction whistles at him like a bullet, unflinching, no holds barred. He can't help but blink in recoil at the warning shot fired his way from the pistol in a plaid jumper. "I'll be eight in two months, and my height's right on track."

Sister Martha's mouth pops open in audible mortification, but before she gets the chance to reign you in, Father Brennan laughs. A wheeze beneath his breath, his divided focus snaps back to a whole that he places on you. The weight feels good, important. Triumphant when he continues speaking to you, instead of over you, like adults love to do.

"Yes indeed. You'll pardon my mistake, I wasn't informed that there was an almost eight year old in this class."

You accept his reconciliation with a nod, a transaction complete. But there's still that bad people business that has you eye him with returned doubt.

"God can't love bad people." You begin, your inflection correcting, it perks a single of his brows and spreads his cheeks in a smile. He doesn't interject. He listens. "If he loves them, then what's supposed to stop them from being bad?"

"Ah." He understands, a tidal wave to wash away his ignorance. "His love is a reward then?"

"Isn't it?" You're incredulous.

He hunkers eye-level to you, the little girl who isn't buying it. Who doesn't understand. The gray world is seen through black and white, and he cherishes you for it. A luxury for only the innocent. He'll not let it blur and fade before its time.

He perches you on his knee, and little fingers ring around his collar. A face all too serious for being almost eight.

"We all sin, child. But the bad in us doesn't make us so." He tries to explain. "We're created in his image. We're created to sin."

"Even you?" Eyes slit, your challenge lilts more accusatory than questioning. Disbelieving that he - a priest - would admit to such faults. He's Gods right hand, of course, he couldn't possibly. So you must trick the truth out of him, if such a truth exists. Too smart for your own good, your aunt often says.

"Aye." Willful concession, not a hint of deceit or condescension. "Even me."

He has no idea then, but he's spoken the magic words. He's won you over. A little girl who thinks she's misplaced, and along comes a black haired priest who reveals much the same about himself.

"So long as you're sorry for what you've done, and you promise to try harder, he'll forgive."

You ponder his words. Turn them over and over in your head as he waits in silent patience, balancing you on his leg, his other knee creaking at the floor. His forties have made a mockery of the spry man he played in his thirties. You think hard, careful, frowning at his black shirt.

"If you only apologize to get forgiveness, doesn't that mean you're not really sorry at all?"

He barks a laugh. A deep rumble of nicotine and booming projection. A reward for how precious, how honest. He smiles at you, one tender in sincerity. You grin back at him, the only one you've got, a hole where your top left incisor should be. He thinks you clever, and you feel the warmth of such adulation sugar rush high, spiraling crown to sole.

"Quick as a whip, you are. Very good." His praises an iron poker that prods something red hot and tingling, stoking an ember he can't yet see. Faint, flickering, smoke wisps from the smolder he feeds. His time and attention freely given dry, prosperous kindling. "We should all confess our sins, lass. But confession isn't the same as repentance. That's where the real work begins."

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

His flock of lambs abundant, a responsibility he regards with the utmost probity. Curled white obedience, velvet soft fidelity. A gaggle of young ones whose eyes sparkle when he rounds the corner, or enters the class. Their kind shepherd come to herd.

And then there's you. You follow him, but straggle and catch in the fray. You stray to wolf dens and cliff-sides. You rear and butt at your sisters. You yip at the elder sheep who try to offer the grass, nose turned even in starvation. But to his out-stretched hand you gallop forth, wobbling coltish, your eagerness sincere.

He's taken with you. Your stubborn inclination. Your curiosity. Your black fleece.

He's always drawn to that. The contrarian. The outlier. The challenge. The one most in need of salvation. He tells himself it's necessity. The mantle he takes up as one who guides, who cares.

The sisters are known for harsh punishment, not all, but most. A switch, a ruler, hair grabbed in fist. He's never been one for such cruelty, he could never think to strike the doe-eyed and adoring. A crux and a folly, his gentle disposition endears him even more to his girls. An accent that charms and eyes so blue they bewitch like crystal, oceanic-endless, a balm to the souls turbulence. They now bleach feverish, anemic and hollow, arctic-bright.

He thinks of you yelping to the strike of a switch. A rod glancing your peach-plump rear. He doesn't dare think of who he pictures the wielder, just as he doesn't dare think to suggest such a punishment. Because he's a soft touch. Is what he tells himself. Merciful. Lenient. Kind. He rattles down the list, pulling the attributes from the muck to rebuild his morality. Wipe them clean and stick them on like armor. Good. A good man. A simple man. A man of God.

He stills himself. Tugging his shirt cuff and repositioning his weight with another grating squawk of old wood. "How did she assert such of you? Surely you were mistaken, a misunderstanding, perhaps?"

Your frustration huffs. "She said because I use tampons, that means I've been had. Whispered it to Melissa Sue behind my back like some scandal."

He crosses himself. A pregnant stretch of silence creeps between you like an ink spill, black and viscous and promising an even worse mess if he moves to sop it up too quickly. Rushed and unprepared. Black and glittering and endless, like your fleece.

Left standing in the pasture with blood in your teeth, and the sisters at his back, demanding and impatient. Put her down. They insist. A rabid animal, a bad seed. This one bites. They hiss. A lost cause, kicking and screaming. Don't trouble yourself, Father. This ones not worthy of your time and attention. Oh, what are we to do with her?

He offers to you his time and attention like communion, the special treatment fed to you the body and blood of Christ. Ever since you were a little girl. He slips the wafer between lips stretched open, dissolving against the soft pink, drawn to receive. A quick lap of muscle dragging beneath the pads of his fingers, hot and wet through a sigh that aches. That longs.

A smile. A wide beam, you've learned to wear many the last ten years, but it's still the only one you need. Blood stains the incisor that used to gap through it, once upon a time. A face he still sometimes sees. A little girl who remembers those promises made to her even a decade on. Kept close to your chest, lurid Polaroids of his dedication and shine to you like blackmail. Black fleece. Waves them under his nose like pornography you threaten to divulge. A reputation damaged for turning his back on you.

He'd sooner lay down in the grass and let the sisters eat him alive before he ever turned you away. Ground through his flesh and bone, pop cartilage and floss with sinew string before he'd dare allow them to wreath your head with his failings. Crown you Antichrist, the child bride to blasphemy, secularism's prize. A truth that shakes his soul with how heavy sincerity rests upon it. A weight of devotion that crushes; his collar, his composure, his chains.

I wrote more you guys!! @aldisobey @lightsside

absolutely insane, out of pocket WIP that no one asked for that's not in my usual tense OR style, but I needed to exorcise it, under the cut

Ummm slight NSFW? Religious themes ? Dub-con? Age gap? Canon-divergence AU for the explicit purposes of (eventual if I continue this) smut ?? Under-age (female reader is a high-schooler of unspecified age, probably 17 ?? almost legal but not? idfk)

I've never written anything in the reader-insert or present tense ballpark. I have no business doing this. Anyway here's some of it! xoxo

Heels click the tile in brisk approach, luring his attentions to Mrs. Grady, an attendant of the main office, with you in toe. The rubber soles of your mary janes fall silent in your step, though your head is held high behind her, assured with the saunter of your hips. You're but a girl, though your walk is a womans. You carry yourself with the oversized confidence of a fatale. One who looks into his tired eyes and wary posture and sees herself staring back, wicked and red. A devil. His devil.

You come upon him like you know it all. Wiser than your years, lethal in your innocence feigned. You fix yourself to Mrs. Grady's shadow as if the position offers you to him meek, but your posture holds to a maturity that betrays you.

Father Brennan straightens with an amicable smile in greeting. Mrs. Grady returns it, though the quirk of her lips raises and falls so fast it's almost missed. Her skirts hem modestly swishes below the knee, three inches below to be exact. Three to four inches or so longer than yours had often been. Your waist band rolled twice to achieve the shortened length. An act of rebellion, a stab at the salacious you pretend yourself heedless of. Too pure to be deliberate.

The stunt with the skirt has landed you in the main office many times. Only until recently, when they turned to him for disciplinary action.

Their sole priest. One of but a few male staff members. They came to him at their wits end, and suddenly, you behaved. So mild and pious, suspicious with how quick you bent the knee. Confirmation he loathed.

Yet here you were, dragged before him once again. The same long walk to his domain, after school hours, when your studies wouldn't be interfered.

Not a walk of shame, but a strut.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

"What's been troubling you, my child?

He doesn't recall when my began to precede child, but he notes the way you're alight with covetous pride, and it beams up at him through the white of your smile, and glint in your eye. He basks in it with rueful conflict, one whose favor tips the scale in disappointment, both in himself, and you. Or at least he tries to tell himself that, shift part of the blame.

He sits on the edge of his desk before you, a bold maneuver, a vulnerability, but one he subjects himself to willingly. A deliberate ploy to show he can. To assert you have no hold over him, a display of his strength, his determination. Lofty and unaffected by your wiles.

Wiles you somehow seem unaware of even as you wield them; in your blushed cheeks and gaped lips, sighing his name minty fresh and bubblegum sweet, from the chewing gum you sneak, and the tinted lip balm that has sent you to his office more times than he can count.

A little silver crucifix collars your neck, dainty and simple, it signals your virtue, brands you as one of his own. He finds himself captured by it, dangling from your throat.

"What has you acting out so?"

He observes with the same raw anguish settling in his gut like a brick with how you sit before him. Your leg crossed, one over the other. Foot bobbing from a small ankle, restless and blurring. Your kilt slides back over your leg, hinting bare thigh above the thin green cotton of your knee-high.

The girls of St. Marys are supposed to sit straight back, hands clasped and ankles crossed. Demure, innocent, juvenile. You've been told not to sit the way you do, as if the correction itself scolds you for the impurity of which he fears you implicit. The way you are now. Alone in his office. Looking up at him.

He wonders if he shouldn't correct it again himself, but thinks better of it.

Weakness. He thinks. He chants. He affirms.

Baseless, primal, profane. He shouldn't pay any mind to how you sit. Like a woman.

You sigh, long-suffering, and troubled. Pouty lips and pleading eyes. Your lashes flutter, jet black and spindly with mascara applied so light it might go unnoticed. It doesn't.

Weakness.

Red flares within him, pointed, sleek. Igniting with a spark that fizzles and fades to gooey pink, soft and tender. And then golden again. Reverential. The sun setting on a dismissed mass. The aftermath of grace and due deference to his person leaving him hazy and contented. A school of faculty and students alike who adore him. Without them he's left to the sobering of an empty chapel, one whose light then shuns him. Daring him to continue to fester with the new, hungry monstrosity that swells and stiffens, ugly and blunt.

Heavy on his shoulders, digging at his back. A cross to bear, he drags it along his pilgrimage to the hill, where he will stake it in the ground, climb to its center, and crucify himself on the broad tines. And you're both the hammer and the nail. Sharp and unforgiving. A pierce of his flesh that damns his rotten soul. A giggle through his left hand, a sigh through his right, and kiss through both feet. He takes the pain and bleeds. He bleeds for you.

Weakness.

"I don't know, Father." You surrender, fingers picking the pleated hem of your skirt at your knee. A budding chest rising and falling beneath your buttoned blouse. His molars crack as he clenches his jaw firm. "I don't feel like I'm supposed to be here. I don't feel like I do any of this right."

His brows bow and his eye droops. Frosted brilliance chilled in pity. How wistful and lost his little lamb bleats.

"Do what right?" His voice is old and hoarse, and it catches in his throat. He hopes you think its breaks from disuse. From solidifying, stoic and cold in his lonely office, his clearing throat and crisp strokes of pen all that keeps him company there.

And not because of the way you take your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Belong." You reply, plain and real. So ahead of your years, and the vapid nuance that fill the heads of your classmates. Boys and lunches and status. He sighs, his smile so thin it disperses imperceptible in the deep lines that etch his face.

"We all belong, lass." He lilts around the pet names, feeling one weight lift in place of the new.

His vow of celibacy is a mutt gone rabid, and you're the child unawares, as you pull his ear and yank his tail, pushing at the warning ripple of jowl to get at his canines. Slick and yellowed by marrow, the memory of it's taste a perpetual haunt from the decades since it last soaked his tongue.

You're no Jezebel.

He almost sinks to his knees and sobs in relief. You're wayward. Wayward he knows. Wayward he can curve, he can herd, he can appease. And all without so much as a scuff to his shining piety. His stirred faith settles. Balls back up tidy, and tamed.

"You speak of nothing the Lord cannot quell." He eases himself into this routine, to the familiarity in advice he's since taken to using as a shield against your temptation. Or a muzzle to his own. "You need not but turn to him."

His suggestion is reasonable. One any good mentor, or spiritual counselor, should provide. You shake your head before his graveled words have the chance to settle.

"I try." Your insistence is earnest, as is your defeat. It strengthens his pity. "He doesn't listen to me. He never responds."

"My girl, of course he listens." You remain unconvinced. He sees it in your furrowed brow, and pout. "Come, I'll show you." He holds both of his palms out and open to you, thick and creased and stable. "We'll talk to him together."

[different-worlds-series]

Chapter One

‘Am I In GF?’

Memory loss is one way of coping with damage

-Jeannette Winterson

No one can ever be prepared for life. Sure some have it all planned out. Go to college, get a good job, find love and have a beautiful family. But then come bills, debt, divorce and custody battles. Others let life choose its curse for them and become happy with whatever they have.

When Kal-El fell to Earth that sunny day, no one knew what he was going to be. Then he became Superman, the world's hero. He fell in love with Lois Lane and had two beautiful twin boys, Jonathan Kent and Jordan Kent.

Yet even the Man of Steel couldn't have everything figured out. While he and Jon had a beautiful Father-son relationship, Clark and Jordan struggled to even have a conversation without Lois or his therapist involved.

Now his boys know about his alter-ego, Superman, the world's greatest hero. They know about all the lies he and Lois told them, the excuses of working late or following a dead end story now revealed.

He felt like the bonds with his sons began to weaken more now that they knew of his secret life.

He closed his eyes, sitting on the porch of the home he loved so much. The home his mother and father made him feel like a human even when times he didn't. It felt as if Martha and Jonathan Snr. were standing behind him telling him everything was going to be okay.

"Clark!" Lois shouted, running out from the kitchen. He looked at his wife, who was staring at the sky. Clark looked up, noticing from the corner of his eyes that his sons had followed their mother.

A black and white hole had appeared a couple of feet from above the home, circling in a counter-clockwise motion. The small family noticed a bright light burst from the middle, a person falling from the light. Clark quickly took off into the air, his glasses falling to the wooden floor.

Clark caught the person, a young girl. She looked the same age as his boys. Her hair was a light-ish brown and her skin was sickly plain. She wore a black jumper with a bat on it, black leggings and Flash inspired shoes. She had a septum piercing and a key necklace.

As he landed, Lois ran towards him worried about who or what had fallen from the now gone portal. She noticed the teen girl in her husband's arms. She looked at him with wide eyes. "Bring her inside" Lois demanded, seeing blood drip from the girl's finger.

<><><>

It had been a short while since the mysterious girl had fallen from the sky, Lois and Clark bring her into the guest room with a first aid kit while the three Kent boys waited patiently downstairs.

Lois had taken the girl's jumper off, shocked at the cuts and bruises on her arms and shoulders. She tended to them, applying bandages to the deeper cuts. The girl stirred in her unconscious state.

"Jon... Jon" she muttered softly, sounding quite scared. Lois stopped her previous task, carefully watching the girl. "No...don't... don't!" the girl gasped before opening her eyes wide. She took a moment before taking a breath, sitting up from the guest bed.

"Am I in GF?" She said in a strong Irish accent. Looking around with icy blue eyes, the girl's gaze landed on Lois. "Bitise?" The girl gasped, staring at the reporter in shock. "Sweetie, my name's Lois. Lois Lane" Lois corrected her.

The girl's eyes widened even more, if that was even possible. "L..Lo..Lois Lane?" The girl stuttered in utter shock, a hand going to her forehead. "Did Adam accidentally give me hash again?" She muttered to herself.

Lois came closer to the girl, placing a hand on her leg. "I'm assuming you're not from here?" Lois stated the obvious. The girl looked at her, trying to keep calm. "Depends, is it common knowledge that Clark Kent is Superman?" The girl asked, fearing she already knew the answer to that one.

The brunette sat on the couch, surrounded by the Kent family, or well a version of the family. Clark and Lois stood tall in front of her while the twins stood to the side. "What's your name?" Clark asked gently, even though his face and body said otherwise.

"Emma. Emma Ní Chroídheán" the girl answered, twiddling with her thumbs. "And you're from a world where we're fictional characters?" Clark asked again, trying to understand what Emma had told him and Lois. "Yeah, that includes Flash, Kara, Kate, The Legends and basically every city where anytype of hero lives in or fights crime in" Emma explained plainly through her accent, sounding quite bored.

"Do you know how you got here?" Lois asked her, her motherly side showing. Emma shook her head. "Last thing I remember was arguing with some girl who tried to kiss my cousin while he was holding his boyfriend's hand. Stupid bitch'' Emma explained, quite agitated by this girl she was on about. Lois and Clark only nodded, understanding only the basic words she was saying.

"So not about the giant fucking wormhole you fell out of!" Jon exclaimed, looking at Emma in disbelief. "Why? Gotta problem ya blondie fean" Emma shot at him, glaring at the twin. She always thought he was a little shit when the promo posters came out with that stupid gold chain.

Jordan snickered at his brother's expression at Emma's weird insult. His parents looked at each other, in shock that Jordan was laughing so freely. "Look, I dunno how I got to Smallville, Kansas but what I do know is that I shouldn't be here nor do I 'member anythin'" Emma defended herself, crossing her arms.

Clark took out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. He landed on J, dialing the first number. "Who ya ringing?" Emma asked him, curiosity peaking in her mind.

<><><>

When J'onn J'onzz walked into the Kent home, Emma and the Kent twins felt as if their hearts were going to explode. Emma felt as if she was gonna wake up from this glorious dream. Clark cleared his throat, seeing the three fifteen year olds' shocked faces.

"Boys, Emma this is J'o-"

"J'onn J'onzz, Martian Manhunter! Literally the coolest shapeshifter in existence!" Emma interrupted Clark, her voice raising a couple octaves. Jordan found the little rant kinda cute as Emma's eyes lit up with pure joy. J'onn gave out a bashful laugh at the young girl. "You seem to know alot about heroes, Emma" He commented, making the girl blush. Emma let out a nervous laugh, twiddling with her thumbs as she mumbled an incoherent sentence.

"Boys, can we have the room for a moment?" Lois asked politely, smiling at her sons. The twins knew what their mother meant and quickly said their short farewells to the hero before leaving the kitchen to eavesdrop on the conversation about to unfold.

J'onn smiled at Emma brightly, pulling a seat out for her. "I assume you know how this goes?" J'onn asked, reaching for the bucket Lois pult out from under the sink. Emma nodded before closing her eyes. J'onn lifted his pointer and middle fingers to Emma's temples, his eyes glowing red as he used his powers.

He looked into Emma's mind, trying to find her last memory before she came here. It was like a broken record, skipping tracks or in this case memories. He could barely make out what he was seeing. One moment she was in a large field surrounded by other teens the next she was wacking four or five boys with a deformed baseball bat.

Emma's coughing brought him out of the trance. The girl was coughing up sick and blood in the bucket. Lois rushed to her side, rubbing her bak in circles whilst Clark filled up a glass of water and handed it to her with some tissue. "Nice one" Emma thanked him, taking a gulp of water.

Emma seemed to become more pale from throwing up, her eyes looked as if they were glowing. "Can I go get some fresh air? My head is spinning" Emma groaned, rubbing her temples.

Clark and Lois nodded. "Of course, take the boys with you" as if on cue the twins appeared from around the corner of the hallway. Clark raised an eyebrow at his boys who only shrugged it off.

Once the three teens were out of sight, J'onn let out an exasperated sigh. "Her mind, it's broken" He managed to say, sitting down on a chair. "What did you see J'onn?" Clark asked his friend.

"Fragments of memories, but no answer to how she arrived in our world or this portal you mentioned" J'onn told the couple, a soft pang in his heart. The poor girl didn't know what had happened to the people she loved. "Is there anything you can tell us?" Lois asked him.

"She's scared. She has no idea what is really happening to her. But there was something... something igniting in her" J'onn recalled the small blue-ish purple flame he saw. "Something bad?" Clark asked. J'onn shook his head, "No, but I feel as if this young girl has no idea that she may be more than a human"

"If you ever need me, I'm a call away. That includes Ms Danvers" J'onn handed her a folded piece of paper. "Thanks J'onn, It was really nice to meet you, like I've always wanted to meet you" Emma smiled at him before he reverted to his martian form. The twins ran up next to Emma, watching the martian fly away from the farm. "That was cool, right?" Jordan commented from Emma's right. "Class" Emma smiled, watching the man fly away.

<><><>

The boys had gone to the Schuster Mines to meet up with Sarah at the bonfire party. Emma sat in the kitchen, Lois and Clark sitting in front of her. "So what happens now?" Emma asked the couple, nervous under Lois' gaze.

The pair looked at each other before Clark cleared his throat. "First we are going to have some documents written up for you to legally stay in America" Lois started off, fidgeting with her wedding band. "You mean Winn or Cisco are gonna forge papers" Emma corrected, smirking at Lois.

She let out a small laugh, smiling at Emma. "You really do know your stuff" Lois commented. "Coping mechanisms are awesome" Emma joked, causing concern within the couple. "Anyways, until we find out exactly what happened to you, you'll be staying here with us" Clark told her, smiling like Lois.

Emma looked at them, shocked at Clark's words. "Are you serious?" Emma asked them. "Yes, we want to help you and figure out how and why you got sent here off all places" Lois told Emma who was beaming with utter joy.

Clark found her expression quite amusing, maybe it was the fact she got Jordan to smile but he felt thankful for her presence in the house. He noticed that Sam's ELT had begun beeping.

'It's another nuclear facility' Sam's voice spoke knowing Clark would be listening. Lois also seemed to know. "It's Sam, right?" Emma asked him, her tone a bit sour. Clark sighed, nodding at Emma's question. "Hey" Lois cooed, taking his hand in hers. "We're gonna be alright, okay? Go" Lois reassured him before he left the room in a gust of wind.

Emma was slightly dazed from his sudden exit, causing Lois to smile. "Come on, I'm sure I have a few old clothes that will fit you" Lois told Emma, getting her to follow her upstairs. "Why are you two being so nice to me?" Emma asked Lois, following her around the corner of Jon's room. Lois turned to Emma, hand resting on the doorframe of her and Clark's shared bedroom. "Because you're a scared teenage girl who has miraculously appeared in a new world. I doubt being a bitch would end well?" Lois raised her eyebrow.

"Fair point, but I'm a literal stranger who fell outside your front door" Emma fought back. She always said she'd love to get in a debate with Lois Lane back home. "If Martha and Jonathan thought that about Clark he would have never become Superman" Lois shot back, turning to find the clothes she was on about.

"True, he would actually end the world in a different earth" Emma recalled, Conner wouldn't shut his mouth about it for a month. Lois looked at her with wide eyes. Emma shrugged, mumbling a quick "Comics are weird" before Lois dumped a few clothes in her arms.

"Okay. Go try these on while I'll try find the rest" Lois brushed off, ushering Emma to the guest room. Emma rolled her eyes before walking away from the woman.

Emma felt a weird tingle in her hands. 'Stupid carpal tunnel' Emma thought before both her hands started to shake viloenly. Her head began to pound before her veins turned an electric blue.

She fell to the ground with a very loud thud gaining Lois's attention almost immediately. Lois ran to Emma, noticing her glowing veins. Turning her onto her back, Lois gasped. Emma's eyes glowed the same blue as her veins. It took only a few seconds before Emma shot up from the floor gasping for breath.

"Jordan... Jordan's gonna blow up the bonfire" Emma gasped, confused about what just happened. "How the hell could you know that?" Lois asked her, just as confused. "I saw it" Emma whispered.

<><><>

"Holy shit, I was right!"

"She was right!"

Both Lois and Emma exclaimed when Clark and the boys told them what happened at the bonfire.

"What are you talking about??" Jordan asked his mother and the Irish girl. "Shit! Nana's gonna bathe me in holy water again" Emma silently freaked out, forgetting that no one else in the room was brought up by an Irish Catholic family. Clark looked at the girl very concerned. "Emma? You okay?" He asked her. Emma looked at him, murder in her eyes. "When you tell your very religious Irish Catholic grandmother you tell her that I might have a girlfriend or boyfriend it can lead to a small bit of trauma" Emma answered, dead serious with her words.

Lois patted her back gently before answering Jordan's prior question. "Emma somehow had a vision of Jordan blowing up the bonfire" Lois explained to the boys. Clark looked at her in surprise. "You're a psychic?" Jon asked her. "Just because Nana predicted fucking England winning that cup one time! Everyone thinks your fucking psychic" Emma muttered, rolling her eyes. "I have no idea how I even did that glow-y thing" Emma explained to the family, pissed off at the world.

"Okay, first language" Clark started scolding Emma. "Second, you two are getting tested" Clark pointed at Emma and Jordan. Emma started waving her hands. "Fortress?" Emma asked, praying he wouldn't say hospital.

"You really do know your stuff" Clark complimented her. "Why do you know all this stuff?" Jon asked Emma. "Trauma plus having no friends equals escapism. Superheroes kinda land in top place" Emma smiled painfully.

The brothers looked at Emma concerned while their parents did the same behind her. "I think it's getting late. Time for bed you three" Clark forced out in a cheery tone. Emma hummed in agreement.

"Thanks for everythin'" Emma smiled at the reporters before going upstairs behind the boys.

<><><>

Jordan couldn't sleep. He tostled in his bed, shifting under the covers every so often. Clark had flown off to some emergency and Lois and Jon were asleep so there was no one to talk to really.

Emma?

No, that was a bad idea. Why would he spill his feelings to a girl who showed up on the front lawn less than twelve hours ago. He needed something to drink, that would calm him down for sure.

He reached the bottom of the stairs when he felt a cold breeze on his bare feet. "Weird?" He muttered before hearing a sobbing sound. Jordan looked around the hallway, noticing the front door was wide open.

Jordan went outside to see Emma sitting on the porch steps crying into her arms. "Emma?" Jordan called softly from behind her. Emma turned her head quickly, wiping her tears with her arm. "I'm fine, go back inside" Emma cracked, faking a smile at Jordan.

Jordan plopped down beside her. "Look, I know we only met but you can tell me if somethings wrong" Jordan sighed, looking at Emma. She had a lot of freckles on her face that lit up with the starlight. She looked cute. "I... just miss home. I mean I'm grateful that your parents are taking me in, it's just surreal" Emma admitted to Jordan. "Never in my entire life did I ever believe I'd meet Lois Lane never mind your Dad and now I'm staying in the same house as both of them and I'm supposed to be calm" Emma half-lied to the Kent.

Jordan raised his eyebrow at her, making Emma laugh weakly. "I doubt that's why you're crying" Jordan pointed out nudging Emma gently. "Fair... I just can't bare the silence. Usually I hear my brothers or cousins fighting in the middle of the night over something stupid, or my little sister is climbing into my bed because she afraid of the dark" Emma explained to Jordan, a pang in her heart when she mentioned her family.

She knew deep down this wasn't ending well for her.

Jordan placed a hand on Emma's shoulder. "I get it. I'm not used to the silence either. There's no late night traffic in Smallville or traffic at all really" Jordan compromised, making Emma laugh. Emma started to shiver, the cold breeze blowing over the farm. "I never thought Kansas could be cold" Emma muttered with a dark glare. "Here" Jordan said, taking off his hoodie and giving it to her. Emma's cheeks were red, Jordan assumed it was from the cold. "Oh...Thanks" Emma mumbled taken back by his gel steer as she put on the hoodie carefully.

"So? You kissed Sarah Cushing" Emma stated, a smirk on her face. Jordan groaned, his head falling back. "Don't remind me" He groaned as Emma laughed at him. "How's your face? I've been in a few scraps but never healed that quick" Emma noticed. "Must be an alien thing I guess" Jordan slumped. "You know me and my cousin threw a gardaí motorbike in the bonfire a few weeks back. Doesn't match laser eye explosion but got some chase of them when they found out" Emma told Jordan, nudging his side. Oh, she loved messing with the gardaí.

Jordan only smiled at her shaking his head. Even though he could barely understand her, he found a sense of comfort in her words. There was something about Emma that made Jordan feel different. He couldn't explain it but she had this vibe that made him feel... confident in a way. He had barely met her and she already had this affect on him.

"Thanks Em, I needed that" Jordan slipped out, making her blush harshly. "No one has ever called me 'Em' before. May family wanted to be out of the box with them" Emma thought. It was a common one but they Jordan said it was different. Jordan shrugged at her, "Well the only nickname I got were from bullies so I doubt its gonna be hard to find a good one". " Jord" Emma suggested knowing that Jor was too weird if she was planning to mock Jor-El's A.I.

"Jord and Em it is" Jordan declared in a faux British accent. Emma snickered at him, gently pushing Jordan to the side. "Oh my Rao you are just... something else" Emma commented while trying to hold her laughter.

Little did they know Clark had landed on the other side of the home, smiling brightly. Maybe staying in Smallville would be the best for his boys.

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

Okay I was supposed to take a break from the dubbing analysis so I’m going to stretch it a little and instead analise the original dubbing of a cartoon... Since it literally includes Polish. I'll still drop a few fun facts about the Polish dub tho.

I’m talking about Martha Speaks season 1 episode 10b “Bye Martha” so get ready cause this will be incomprehensible:

*And also I have to say I was so baffled when I heard about this episode just… where did the idea to use Polish come from. How. What. Why.

*I’ll start off by explaining what the episode is about since I don’t expect you people to actually watch it – in a scheme to steal Martha, two bad guys switch her regular alphabet soup (that allows her to speak English) with a Polish one. Now, since you couldn’t do this concept in Polish since, you know, they all speak Polish in the Polish dub, instead it got changed to French.

*Still, here's the links if you're really bored in life, English version and Polish dub

*Also this is the first time I watched Martha Speaks in English

*Sorry this analysis will be much sloppier than the other ones since this is really just for fun

*First change between dubs is that there is a scene where Bad Guy #1 (Otis) watches Bad Guy #2 (Pablum) take the alphabet soup cans from a Polish shop and for a moment the frame shows the Polish shop in the focus. To escape confusion this one scene simply got cut from the Polish version.

*Also I’m fascinated by the idea of Polish alphabet soup. Do they have “ą”s and “ę”s and “ż”s there? Did they make separate noodles for the digraphs? Can I write “żółć” with noodles? Does it taste like the instant tomato soup from amino???

*Okay so Otis dresses up as a “Polish lady” and goes to Martha’s owner family and at first I was like, oh okay the accent is fine, we have some hard “r”s and an “I yam” very nice… and then the “zis” and “zat” came in

*A word of explanation, yes, I know that exchanging “th” with “z” has became the standard western way to portray most European accents but when it comes to Poland, this is NOT a thing. This is an accent I’ve heard Ukrainians and Russians have, but never from a Polish person and I have heard my grandma pronounce “ticket” as “tyket”. For Polish people it’s more common to turn “this” into “dis” or in some rare cases “fis” since we don’t have the “th” sound in Polish and this is how we’re taught to pronounce it

*And then

*It happened

*”SASHA!”

*Come on this such an obvious Russian name! Please we’re already past ‘89 acknowledge we’re different countries!

*Though this spoilers the plot twist that foils Otis’ plan if you know a thing or two about Russian names, since if you do, you know that Sasha is actually a male name, specifically a diminutive of the name Aleksandr. This hints to the fact that Otis thinks Martha is a male dog and that ignorance leads to his plan failing.

*Of course I’m not Russian do Amuel if you’re reading this and I’m wrong please correct me

*Okay tho I have to say I love the word “dogling” and it’s pretty realistic since as a Pole, I can confirm that the lack of diminutives in English really bugs me and I’m tempted to do stuff like this all the time

*”Back when you were just a little puppyshka back in Poland” is a hilarious sentence, because this is a clearly Russified diminutive and yet the speaker still claims to be from Poland. Fascinating.

*And then instead of “yes” the fake Polish Lady answers “ja”

*This is were I decided to not get offended by the creators mistaking Polish for Russian because it became obvious they had no idea what they were doing

*Should I get offended that Otis/Fake Polish Lady says they are too poor to afford a camera? (Or a picture machine as he for some reason calls it)

*Honestly after that one X-men movie, no, I don’t think I will

*”Ni” does not, in fact, mean “no”, in fact this word doesn’t exist unless in some pretty specific and mostly archaic cases

*It should be “nie” just so you know

*Fun fact instead of just “dog license place” in Polish they use the actual name “Kennel Club” and this is actually common in Polish dubbings to use names of actual organizations and stuff

*They use an actual idiom “nie ujdzie im to na sucho”! It means basically “they won’t get away with that (although it doesn’t really connect fluidly with the English first part of the sentence it’s used it, but hey, at least it’s not a direct translation of the English idiom)

*Big props for Martha’s VA for learning those three sentences in Polish. It might sound ironic but that’s actually impressive so good for her

*Still, pronouncing “zupę” as “żupę” is extremely funny XD

*Sigh, I know you don’t have a hard “y” in Polish but it really sounds like they’re saying Christina instead of Krystyna, which I imagine it was supposed to be

*Absolutely bad representation. A self respecting Pole wouldn’t get the police at people

*JP100%

*Though Fake Polish Lady is supposed to be elderly so there’s 50/50 chance she’s communist and then that checks out

*Was- Was “Leczałski” supposed to be “Lechowski”????

*PLEASE remember that Polish “w” is always pronounced as “v” I’m even willing to ignore the “ch/h” problem then

*Okay but “Christina” actually has a pretty nice accent, I like the way she says “Englisz”

*And “diktionari” <3

*Also the use of “to dobrze” for “hooray” is such a funny concept because- it literally means “that’s good” this is the least enthusiastic thing they could’ve used XD

So to conclude, I like how they handled this in the Polish dubbing, I’m no French expert but I’m pretty sure they used better sentences than Americans in their dub and even if the accent is stereotypical, at least it’s stereotypical for the right country.

And in the original, they once again mixed up Polish and Russian, at which I would be more offended if I didn’t know it comes from ignorance and not malice. So I’m disappointed but not surprised. Still, there are some Watsonian ways to explain a lot of inaccuracies (for example Fake Polish Lady having wrong accent and using Russianizations because Otis doesn’t know a thing about Poland) and it’s still better than X-men Apocalypse so I can’t really complain.

That really was an Experience tho.

[queenlucythevaliant]

An incomplete list of Narnia/Bible analogs that are gorgeous and make me want to scream:

Shasta and Moses (They come out of the desert to meet God on a mountain. Raised among strangers and foreigners, without any idea of the glory for which God has destined them, they run for freedom and find themselves leaders of their people. When they ask, “who are you?” the strange voice answers only, “I am who I am; that is, myself.”)

Susan and Martha (Your sister sits at the Lord’s feet and runs to his side every time, as though nothing else matters. Yet you have people to worry about, practical concerns to consider. People need to eat, after all, and who will care for their needs if not you? Should you weep when your Master chides you for the busy anxiousness of your heart? When you come to him crying for your lost brother, you know that he will comfort you.)

Lucy and David (Glittering, righteous children after God’s own heart who are only too fallible. Writers of songs and dreamers of dreams, both of them. You can’t convince me that Lucy wouldn’t have danced before the Lord in a linen ephod, or that David wouldn’t have run at Aslan to bury his face in that golden mane. Stubborn, both of them, yet able to face correction and turn guilt back to praise. Brave, faithful youngest children turned great kings and queens.)

Emeth and Rehab (We ask ourselves how those who never hear the Gospel can have any hope for salvation and are given such small, human answers. The road is narrow, yet here this stranger says “I know your God.” How did He reveal Himself? we want to plead. No answer. The road is narrow, yet these few strangers know His character and His saving power. Someday, we will see them in Heaven.)

Edmund and Paul (“Why are you persecuting me?” calls a voice from above, and just like that the spiteful child is saved. What great things they shall do in the name of the Savior, sure in the knowledge that the Lord came to save sinners, of which they are the worst. They sail across many seas; sometimes, they sail smoothly on and sometimes they are shipwrecked. Still, the King is just and good.)

Reepicheep and Elijah (I am enraptured by stories of a righteous, brave soul who is taken home without tasting death. One is taken in a ship on the water, the other in a chariot of fire. Full of joy and ready to meet the King, both are taken beyond sight. Yet we are sure that their arrivals were safe and that they are in that Far Country even now.)

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

I quite liked this section, even though it was nothing like what I intended to write. Let me know what you think.

Five: Bear Wrongs Patiently

Martha used a word Paula had never heard from her lips before. Even her mother, usually particular about the language of her offspring, didn’t bother to correct her.

Suddenly blind, Paula searched the featureless nothing for any speck of light, found none and tried to remember what she had seen just before the headlamp cut out. There was no point trying to turn the headlamp back on; it had been warning her of low battery for a while, but she’d thought it would survive until they got to the camp and she could exchange it for someone else’s.

“I’m sorry,” Paula said instinctively, steadying the board, which had tilted due to a surprised gesture. As calmly as she could, she said into the accusatory silence, “Does anyone have any form of illumination?”

Nobody did. Martha said, “What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to keep going on course and hope we get there soon. I’m going to slow down, though—just in case.” She slowed, squinting at the dimly lit control panel and trying to figure out what she could do to help anything. There was too little fuel for her to have risked putting on the full night lights previously (hence why the headlamp), and even once that source of light was gone, she was still worried about fuel consumption over the rest of the evening. All the problems that had cropped up in the last day had thrown all the carefully laid plans out, and now—well—

She put on the running lights as low as possible, looked out in the empty dark and prayed as they sped on. The wind, already howling, was picking up into a scream. Paula corrected their course on pure instinct, calculating as she did so how long it would take to get to the camp.

Acting with extreme care and wrapped in prayers, she brought the hoverboard down as low as she dared, until she saw the light glinting on the water. It wasn’t as high as she had expected by now, and that gave her some semblance of hope. She’d picked up Martha’s family from their roof, standing in ankle deep water and screaming for help.

“What are you doing?” asked Martha’s dad, voice sharp with fear. “Are you trying to drown us all?”

“Do I look like I am?” she retorted, lifting the hoverboard back into the wind. If it wasn’t for the fact that she had to pass over Jeran to get to Onas, she would have stayed low instead of flying high and having to deal with the wind. The board tilted, and she corrected it again, then turned on the hazard lights so that they flashed a distress signal.

Though it hurt to do so, Paula cut the power further, calculating in a muttered tone how long it would take her to arrive at Onas now. The answer was—it would be slow, slow, slow. But better that than striking another hoverboard in the same predicament and sending them both down. And meanwhile people were still trapped in the village and waiting for someone who might never come.

Dear God, keep them safe.

At least the water did not appear to be rising as quickly as she had feared. When Paula had first noticed it, long before it ought to have come, the thought had come to her that they were all doomed. But that was panic, and one that appeared unjustified. 

They went on. Behind her, Martha's parents were having a bitter little argument, the kind that throws out barbs of hurt which will fester for the rest of their lives. At some point Martha demanded her mother take the baby, whom she had been holding, and shifted to as close to Paula as she reasonably could get. 

“Well, you were right.”

Paula took several seconds to adjust their course again, then replied, “I'm sorry you were missed in the shuffle. It—we didn't realise.”

“You're really out of options, aren't you. You should have picked up someone else instead of me.”

“Absolutely not,” said Paula: calmly, dogmatically. “Why would you say that?” She would have turned to look at Martha, but could not risk it in the dim lighting and general danger of their situation.

“Oh, I don’t know. What good am I?”

It wasn’t just the late night that was making her sound this tired. 

“God made you for a reason.” Paula’s heart ached for her friend, and she wished there was something more than a platitude she could offer. “You’re one of my favourite people, you know. I feel safe with you.”

“What?” Genuine surprise coloured Martha’s tone. Then the dull sound returned. “What good am I—to everyone? You do so much, Paula. And then there’s me, just—there.”

“And we want you there,” reiterated Paula. “You don’t need to do anything to be worthy. God thought you, you specifically, were worth putting in our village, and I agree. He could have chosen to make you a different person, but he didn’t. The person you are is precisely who he wanted here.”

Martha was silent.

“The good you do, you can’t always see.” Paula broke off suddenly and looked at the time, going cold inside. “Oh no.”

“What is it?” asked Martha, her voice a little choked.

“We should have reached Jeran by now. We’d see it in the distance, at least. Even a conservative estimate. We’re lost, I think.”

Martha’s father overheard her. “Excuse me?”

Paula snatched off one glove and clutched at her head, deep in thought, trying to figure out how to rescue this situation. The running lights reflected off the water below, and there was no other light in sight.

“Are you a hoverboarder or not?” he exclaimed. Paula adjusted their course and tried to analyse what must have happened. The wind was still buffeting them more than she had expected. “I thought you were competent. Knew I shouldn’t have trusted to a kid like you.”

“She’s my age, dad,” started Martha.

“I wouldn’t trust you to organise this, either,” he retorted. “If you’re going to offer to do something like this, you need to actually be competent. Ever thought about that? Being able to do the job you signed up for?”

“I’m sorry,” said Paula, running her fingers repeatedly through her hair as she shifted the course again, trying to work out where they must be, by the process of triangulation when she didn’t know the shape or angle of their trajectory itself. “I didn’t account enough for the wind, I think.” Either that or she’d accounted too much for it.

“Or for the fact that you needed light and fuel. Come on, it’s not hard. I could do it.”

“If you want to take over, go right ahead.” She strained her eyes in the darkness. “I won’t stop you.”

He made a dismissive noise. “Well, not now that you’ve done this. How am I meant to know where we are?”

“I’ll do my best to get us somewhere we can land as soon as possible; but I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it won’t be soon, and I can’t promise when.” There was nothing, nothing except water below and night beyond.

“Women, honestly. You should leave it to the men.”

“I didn’t notice you volunteering,” spoke up Martha. Though nobody could see her do it, Paula smiled thankfully.

This story, for which there are seven parts, is dedicated to everyone affected by Hurricane Helene. It was not written because of that, but a water-based natural disaster is part of the plot. It does not focus on it, but is a story of hope. The text of section one is under the cut. I hope to post all sections before the end of the Inklings Challenge. Despite this being my third year, this is the first I've actually posted anything other than snippets, so I hope I'm doing this right. I haven't yet written more than this, but I do have an outline for the other six parts, so hopefully that will work. @inklings-challenge

One: Admonish the Sinner

First of all it must be understood that every world is connected, as every village is. Some are just further away.

This is not a story of Earth; this is a story of a world nobody bothered to name, in a village nobody called anything other than the village. But that does not make it any less beloved—by people or by God. Sometime, a long time before this story is set, someone from Earth came to this nameless world and gave them the greatest gift of all, truth: but that is another tale entirely.

The night sky of this world is strikingly different from ours. Most prominently, two moons watch the world below, and every forty-seven years or so, flooding hits the island. They call it Big Tide, for it is the pull of the two moons combined that does this. It is regular enough, and has enough warning signs, that everyone should be perfectly ready for it.

As is common in humans (and these are humans like us, though the world is different), not everyone believes the evidence laid out in the world.

This is a story of Big Tide, specifically the one of the year three thousand, two hundred and twenty by their reckoning. This is a story of Paula McArthur.

%%%%%%%

The wattles were flowering, and it was Paula’s favourite time of year. There were several different wattles, but this was the deep gold ones she loved the best, the ones she gathered by the armful and adorned her home with. Now she only held a single sprig and enjoyed it to the full. It was too close to Big Tide to unnecessarily damage the wattle trees; they could be badly damaged by the rushing waters, and might need everything they had to survive. But one twig wasn’t going to hurt it.

The sky was a clear pale blue shot with fine clouds, a mass of them shining near the horizon with the sun gentle on them. Paula raised her face to the sunlight and closed her eyes, smiling. It was spring, and she never felt more alive than in springtime. 

She had been working all morning to prepare for Big Tide, largely transport. Her hands were tired of the precise positions needed to be held in order to hover exactly enough to transfer items in mid-air between hoverboards rather than landing to do it, which would waste time. Tide waited on no man, but Paula was skilled enough to know when she could be sloppy about hoverboarding, and enjoyed hoverboarding in a more slapdash manner than most people she knew. She had graduated earlier than most of her classmates from a controller to haptics. Tomorrow, though, she might use the controller again to make sure she was fresh enough to hover efficiently overnight during Big Tide itself. 

Presently she took out her lunch, and ate it while walking. In the distance a kookaburra laughed; Paula came to an abrupt halt as a green-blue iridescent flash clued her into the presence of a river dragon nearby. It turned and looked at her, bright blue eyes wise and calm. After a moment of silence and mutual respect, the dragon moved properly into her view and arched its sinuous back, raising its crest. Paula lifted her chin and brushed back the dark fringe to look more intimidating. The only sign the dragon gave of seeing any change was to raise its scales in a largely vain attempt to inflate its size. Abruptly it put down its scales and ran in a blaze of colour, uttering a high keening cry that faded as it retreated.

Paula turned to see who had disturbed her, smiling as she recognised the intruder. “What brings you here, Martha?”

Her friend grinned in response, lighting up her tanned sombre face. “You, actually. I came in search of you.”

Paula half gestured to herself, merrily. “Why trouble yourself?”

Martha grew serious at once. “I care about you. Aren't I allowed to?”

“Certainly, as I do.” 

Martha smiled a little incredulously. “Anyway, surely it's time to go back now?”

Paula raised a single eyebrow, then tilted her head back and assessed the position of the sun. “I guess. Why did you come to find me, Mar?”

“Oh, you know, I hardly see you now.” Her manner was evasive, which baffled Paula. “You're always out walking.”

“It's spring.” Paula waved the sprig of wattle at her. “The best time of the year. What's your favourite season?”

“Winter,” said Martha definitively. “Cold and empty and bleak.”

“Why do you like it that way?” she asked in surprise. Last time they'd talked about the seasons, she thought Martha had waxed poetic about the dying fire of autumn. 

“It's silent,” was Martha's quiet response. “Nobody bothers you.”

Paula paused to assess the time, decided they had to go back and led the way; Martha trailed her. “I thought you liked people.”

There was a short silence. “People don't tend to like me.”

“That's nonsense,” she responded immediately. Martha smiled, sad and sarcastic. 

“I don't tend to like me.”

Her calmness bothered Paula, and she sped up slightly. “Well, I do. You're fun, conversational and well read.”

“Which is why you disappear alone for hours.” She caught up and shot Paula a sidelong look, as if to say, I know your secrets. Except there were no secrets to know. 

“I like spring. It feels so alive and fresh, like all the past year's mistakes are washed away and there's new growth instead.”

“Very poetic.” Instead of amusement, Martha's tone was sour. She dodged past Paula and trotted quickstep the whole way back.

%%%%%%%

“I don't know what I did wrong,” finished Paula, twisting her hands nervously. “She got mad and I don't know why.”

Her mother glanced hurriedly across to check the next load wasn't ready, then turned to Paula again. “When people aren't happy it can be a temptation to take it out on others, especially those who are.”

“She said she was worried, and then she just changed and didn't want to talk to me.”

“Rebecca!” The shout made her mother focus on her own work; Paula moved her hoverboard closer to her father so he could load it up. This one was three bags of flour, heavy on the back and requiring stabilisation, which Paula remained still for while her father adjusted the controls. When it was done, he gave her a thumbs up and she gestured with her gloves, rising away from the site and on the journey to higher ground. It wasn't as easy to handle the unbalanced board; she would have done a lot more, and easier, with a transport hoverboard rather than the jury-rigged family board, but it was more economical and the decree had been that fuel, not time, was of the essence, since they'd planned well in advance. Indeed, today being the day before Big Tide, they had expected to have no more transport to do apart from the people, but someone had been digging too enthusiastically in their garden and cracked an underground storage container, so all of that had to be moved. 

She was most of the way there, wind in her face, when a fast personal hoverboard raced up beside her, village elder crouched to stave off the wind. He matched her speed, then unwound and said, “I'll take over from here. Take my board and go back—we need you to persuade people to go.”

“What?” She was already moving, assessing how to swap boards without any risk of either of them tumbling into the trees below while stepping across. “Why?”

He grimaced. “Turns out there are people who haven't prepared and don't want elders coming to help. Your dad suggested you could try and help instead.”

She started to shuck the gloves, then changed her mind and pressed buttons, keying them to the elder's hoverboard instead. As ownership switched, both boards lurched violently, and Paula barely held her position. The elder was wearing magnetic boots and so didn't run the risk of falling. Once she had stabilised it, she said, “So where do I start?”

“Ask your dad when you get back.” His expression was calm and focused as he adjusted the settings to accommodate for his weight. “For now, just get going. Time is of the essence. Big Tide waits for no man.”

[bex-la-get]

A Very Important Question (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Natalie Cusack

Special Appearance: Sienna Trinh

Word count: 2012

Summary: Ethan has a very important question for Nat.

Author’s Note: This is dedicated to the anon who asked if I had written Ethan and Nat’s proposal story. Surprisingly, I had not so, of course, I had to rectify that immediately. Hope you enjoy it! 😘 Also this is unedited so sorry in advance for mistakes.

Ethan was acting weird.

He was constantly stepping away from work to attend meetings off-site, closed his laptop anytime someone walked by, and seemed to be in a constant state of anxiety. Whenever Natalie tried to talk to him about it, he always brushed it off, reassuring her he was fine. 

“I’m just under a lot of stress, Nat, that’s all. Being Chief is more involved than I realized,” he would say.

Natalie wasn’t convinced.

“I don’t know, Si. I’m worried about him,” Nat said one night when getting drinks with Sienna. “You don’t think he’s having money trouble and he’s trying to hide it from me, do you?”

Sienna furrowed her brows. “You mean like gambling debts? That doesn’t seem like Ethan.”

Natalie shrugged. “I know it doesn’t. I’m just grasping at straws here. Trying to make sense of it all.”

Sienna squeezed Natalie’s hand reassuringly. “Don’t look too much into it, Nat. He’s probably just stressed; lord knows Bloom doesn’t make things easy and the Chief’s job is pretty demanding.”

Nat sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Si.”

“Anytime.”

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

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

When Nat returned home that night, she found Ethan sitting on the sofa, watching an old black-and-white movie. His eyes lit up when he spotted her and he jumped off the couch to greet her. “Hey you.”

“Hi,” she smiled.

Ethan pulled her close and kissed her softly, smiling as Natalie immediately relaxed in his arms. “I missed you,” he said, pulling away.

“I just saw you a few hours ago,” she replied.

“I know and then I went several hours without seeing you and I missed you terribly during that time.”

She laughed and caressed his cheek with her hand. “Well, I missed you too.” Her brows furrowed and she stepped closer to him. “Are you okay? You’ve been so stressed this past week; I’m worried about you.”

His eyes softened and he nodded. “I know; I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. This-- this whole thing with being Chief and trying to navigate my new responsibilities while still having to answer to Bloom has been overwhelming. And I kind of bottled it up; I know I have no reason to, it’s just-- just an old habit, I guess.”

Natalie smiled understandingly. “I know, I’m quite familiar with those old habits of yours.” He chuckled and she nuzzled his nose with hers. “You don’t have to bottle it up anymore, my love. I’m here for you, always. And I want to support you through everything, be it good or bad. I’ve got you.”

He held her close and rested his forehead against hers. “Thank you; I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Just talk to me, okay? Even if it’s minor, I always want you to feel like you can come to me.”

“I will, I promise.” His forehead still resting against hers, he closed his eyes and held her close for a long moment, just enjoying having her in his arms. He was fully aware of how lucky he was to have her and while it killed him to lie to her, he hoped she’d forgive him when she realized the reason why. 

Nuzzling her nose with his, he moved to kiss her forehead then looked at her. “Are you hungry? There’s some leftovers in the fridge I can heat up.”

She smiled and nodded. “That sounds great. Let me change though, these jeans have overstayed their welcome.”

He chuckled and watched as she made her way to the bedroom. “Hey,” he called. She turned and looked at him expectantly and he smiled. “I love you.”

She grinned. “I love you more.”

“Never.”

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

Ethan looked around the apartment, triple checking his packing list in case he missed something. They were only going to be gone for the weekend but he needed to make sure that nothing was missing or left behind. This had to go perfectly; and with a lot of luck, it would. But that assumed he remembered everything-- did he pack enough underwear? What about the wine, is the wine in the cooler? Ring. The ring’s in his suitcase. Should he double check again?

The lock in the front door turned and Ethan had a brief moment of panic before shaking it off. He’d been preparing for this for over a week, everything was set. He just needed to remember to breathe.

Nat smiled at Ethan as she walked in. “Hey you.”

Ethan visibly relaxed and returned her smile. “Hi. How was lunch with Sienna?”

“Good! We got our nails done too. Lookie!” She extended her hand out to him and he admired the bright red she had chosen. He tried not to lose himself in the visual of a diamond ring on the very hand he was looking at, instead focusing on the color. Don’t give it away!

He cleared his throat and smiled. “Very pretty. Good color choice.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. Then, noticing the duffle bag that sat on the couch behind him, she furrowed her brows. “Are you going somewhere?”

“We are,” he corrected. “We’re taking the weekend off and going to Martha’s Vineyard, just the two of us. And Jenner.”

She smiled. “Really? Wait, I’m supposed to work tomorrow!”

Ethan shook his head. “Not anymore. I cleared your schedule and got your shifts covered. You’re free until Tuesday. Perks of dating the Chief.” He winked.

She raised her eyebrows. “Thank you, Ethan; that’s so sweet of you. But… what’s the occasion? I’m not forgetting an anniversary, am I?”

He chuckled. “No; I just thought we could both do with a weekend off. I hope it’s okay that I decided that?” The thought suddenly crossed his mind that she might object to having a trip suddenly sprung on her without warning.

She smiled and quelled his nerves with a gentle kiss. “It’s more than okay. Thank you for being so thoughtful.”

“Anything for you, my love.” He pointed to the duffle bag. “Everything’s already packed, we just need to get it all into the car. Will you leash Jenner?”

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

Their first night in Martha’s Vineyard had been relaxing and romantic. After arriving at the AirBnB Ethan had rented, the two had gone out to dinner and enjoyed a quiet date overlooking the beach. Nat had looked beautiful in her sundress and windblown hair, her smile lighting up the entire patio. If Ethan hadn’t left the ring at the house, he might’ve proposed just then. But he had put too much planning into this proposal, damn it, he wasn’t about to ruin it all with an impulse, no matter how tempted he was.

After a lazy Saturday morning stumbling around the house, Ethan, Natalie, and Jenner made their way to the beach, picnic basket and blanket in hand. “This was such a good idea, babe!” Nat said as she popped a cheese cube into her mouth. “We haven’t been on a picnic in forever!”

Ethan smiled. “That’s why I thought we could have one while we were here. The beach seems like as good a place as any for a picnic.”

Natalie smiled. “This reminds me of our first date.”

“Does it now?”

“Mhm,” she said, sipping her wine. “The two of us and Jenner, enjoying a beautiful day outside. We had a picnic then too.”

“I remember,” Ethan said, smiling fondly. “I was nervous for that date. I wanted to make a good impression on you.”

“Really? You had already made a good impression on me.”

“Not as a boyfriend, I hadn’t. I wanted everything to go perfectly; it mattered to me that you knew how much I care about you. How much I love you. I may or may not have agonized over how much cheese was too much for that picnic.”

Nat smiled and squeezed his hand. “I knew then as I know now how much you love me. It’s as much as I love you, which is a lot. And you made a wonderful impression on me, Ethan. You always do. Also, there is no such thing as too much cheese.”

He laughed. “I know that now.” He leaned towards her and kissed her softly, caressing her cheek with his free hand. “I love you,” he whispered as he pulled away.

“I love you too,” she replied. She looked back at their picnic basket and smiled. “Any chance you packed some sweet stuff in there?”

“Mhm,” Ethan nodded. “There’s some chocolate covered strawberries at the bottom of the basket.

Nat’s eyes lit up. “You spoil me!” 

Ethan watched with bated breath as Nat dug her way to the bottom of the basket, fully aware of what she’d find on top of aforementioned strawberries. His heart pounded as he watched her hands slow in their search and listened to the quiet gasp that escaped her lips. With one final reach, she pulled out a small velvet box, her eyes wide. “Ethan… I-- what?”

He moved closer to her and clasped his hands over hers, holding the box in place. “I love you,” he told her. Deftly, he maneuvered the small box out of her grasp and held it in front of her. “I love you so much and I want to live the rest of my life with you by my side. Natalie, you are kind and intelligent and passionate and beautiful both inside and out. You have such fire in your eyes, it could set the whole world ablaze and I would but happily burn in the flames. 

“You have made my life so much better, from the first day you stepped into it. You light up my darkest days, your embrace is my home; I am a better man because of you and I know true happiness with you. Wherever you go Nat, I will follow. I love you and I can’t wait to grow old with you. Will you marry me?”

Nat was crying, a beautiful watery smile on her face. She sniffled and hastily wiped the tears that were falling away as she struggled to find her voice. “Ethan, I--” she choked back a sob and smiled even bigger. “I love you so much. Yes. Yes, I will marry you!”

Choking back a sob of his own, Ethan pulled Natalie into a tight embrace, her arms flinging around his shoulders and they held each other tightly, crying tears of overwhelming happiness and whispered “I love you’s.”

Eventually, they pulled apart and wiped each other’s tears away before Ethan pulled the ring out of the box and slid it onto Natalie’s finger. Sienna’s tips about Nat’s ring size had been correct and it fit like a glove, much to his relief. The ring looked better on her hand than he could have ever imagined. And now it would live on her hand for the rest of their lives, a symbol of their undying love for each other.

Natalie smiled at the ring and sniffled. “So is this why Sienna insisted we get our nails done yesterday?” she asked.

Ethan laughed. “I suppose so. She had mentioned it to me but I didn’t think much of it. It does make a lot of sense, though.”

She giggled and nodded. Then she looked at him thoughtfully. “You weren’t stressed about work at all, were you? You were stressed about this.”

He nodded and ran his thumb over the ring. “Yes. I’m sorry I worried you; and I’m sorry for lying to you about it. I wanted to keep it a surprise as best I could. I didn’t know how else to go about it.”

She smiled and shook her head. “It’s okay, I understand. I’m just glad to know this was what you were stressed about and nothing more pressing; like gambling debts or something like that.”

“I only gamble when it comes to Declan Nash, you know that,” he smirked.

“Of course,” she laughed. “How silly of me.”

He leaned in close and rested his forehead against hers. “I love you, Nat.”

“I love you more.”

He smiled and kissed her soundly on the lips, very nearly forgetting what they were talking about. “Never.”

A/N: Hope you guys liked it! 💙

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added/removed):  @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @paulfwesley @ethansdique @openheartfanfics @perriewinklenerdie @little-flowers-on-heaven @stateofgracious @coffeeheartaddict @liaromancewriter @potionsprefect @mm2305 @gryffindordaughterofathena @actuallybored @writer-ish @queencarb @takeharryandgo @lsvdw-blog @itsjustwinter​ @imaneditorthankyouverymuch-deac @chaoticchopshopheart​ @ohchoices​ @maurine07​ @oldminniemcg​ @parisa-kh​ @shanzay44​ @uberamsey @izzyourresidentlawyer​ @adiehardfan​ @custaroonie​ @mia143​ @a-crepusculo​ @takemyopenheart​ @toadfrog26​ @quixoticdreamer16​ @barbean​ @headoverheelsforramsey​ @natureblooms24 @choicesaddict5 @jerzwriter​

[let-it-raines]

I Hope We Never See October (5/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

ao3 : beginning | current

tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

-/-

Emma likes seafood.

She likes seafood, but she mostly eats like a ten-year-old boy. Apparently, there’s a little place near her house called Granny’s where she devours grilled cheese and onion rings like arteries aren’t a thing. It makes him laugh when she tells him because she eats how he’s always dreamed of eating. The only time he ever gets the chance is when he’s with his nieces and they convince him to get them food Elsa and Liam never let them get.

She also likes 80’s music, has been working at the Blue Dog for over half a decade, prefers her kickboxing classes to cycling ones, and her favorite color is blue.

That last one was a bit of a throwaway question, but he asked it anyway. Then, of course, he made sure to let her know that his eyes were blue. He got an eye roll and a ‘shut up’ for that before she started rolling her hips again. It was damn distracting, but he didn’t stop laughing at how frustrated she was that he wasted his one personal question a day on that.

One personal question a day.

It’s childish, but he thinks it works. It keeps the line between them defined. He knows what this is, has done it enough times before to not be blind to it. They’re both visitors in each other’s lives. They have expiration dates, and when there’s an expiration date, there’s no harm in spending time together.

There’s no commitment, so there’s no hurt.

He’s not an expert on Emma Swan, no matter how much she fascinates him, but he gets the feeling she’s avoiding relationships just as much as he is. There is a past hurt there, a damned painful one, and if anyone gets that, it’s him.

But he doesn’t ask about that in his one question a day. He asks for her favorite color and food and if she’d rather hike uphill for 10 miles or swim for 20.

For the record, she’d rather hike because she could sit down and eat along the way.

“Would you look at that?” Emma says as she runs her hands under the water of the sink at the bar. “You, sitting at this bar, again.”

He slices his salmon with his knife and grins. “I tried that Granny’s place, but the food had too much grease. Met a rather charming waitress, though.”

“Let me guess. Red streak in her hair, boobs on full display, argued with the owner the entire time?”

“How’d you know?”

“Because that’s Ruby, my best friend.”

“Is she now?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“Is that your personal question of the day?”

“Nope,” he says, taking a bite of his food. “I’m saving that for a later time.”

“A later time,” Emma repeats, like she’s considering the words. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the bar. “What makes you think you’re going to be seeing me at a later time? This isn’t enough for you?”

He looks around them and leans closer to her. “Too many clothes.”

Emma laughs, legitimately, and that feels surprisingly good. “I’m literally in a tank top and shorts. That’s about as dressed down as you can get.”

“I was talking about myself, actually. There are too many clothes on me, but it’s nice to know you think so highly of yourself.”

That gets him another laugh and a shake of her head, and he likes that too. He may have no real inclination to become overly attached to her, but he can at least admit to himself that he enjoys her company.

“Shut up.” Someone calls Emma’s name from across the restaurant, and she holds her arm up, putting up one finger. “I get off at The Oaks at eleven. I’ll drop by your place if I’m not too tired.”

“Why the hell are you working there so much?”

“I like the money. And, Jones, that counts as your personal question of the day. I’ll see you later...maybe.”

She grins and winks before walking away, and he swears she puts a little extra sway in her hips. Killian shakes his head as he feels his own smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What a bloody woman,” he whispers to himself before spearing another piece of his salmon.

-/-

“Right there,” she moans. “Like, seriously, right there. Don’t fucking change anything.”

Kilian smiles against her, but he’s quick to return to what he was doing. Emma’s legs tighten over his shoulders, her hands yank at the sheets, and as much as he is throbbing right now, it’s bloody glorious to have her like this. The filter is gone, so too are the reservations, and he gets a bit of satisfaction knowing this is him doing this to her.

His only skills aren’t on the football pitch after all.

He is definitely a bastard for thinking that right now, but he’s never claimed to be otherwise.

“Fuck,” Emma huffs after she comes down from her high. Her legs shiver over his shoulder, thighs tightening so all the sounds fade for a moment, but then her legs fall and all sounds come back in screaming color. “What did I do to deserve that so early in the morning?”

“It’s ten, love.”

“Yeah, that’s early on my day off.”

Killian laughs and kisses the inside of Emma’s thigh before making his way up her body, planting a final one underneath her collarbone before he collapses on his side of the bed and pulls the sheets above his waist.

“It’s not early for the rest of the world.” He smiles, which she doesn’t appreciate, and she sinks further into the bed, yanking the covers over her. He can still see her flushed cheeks and the slightest content smile on her face. “You should try it sometime. See the sunrise, dodge early morning joggers, eat breakfast at a normal time.”

“Trust me, I’m usually up early enough to want to drive into the early morning joggers while I have a Pop Tart hanging out of my mouth. My summer schedule is just...it’s different than usual.”

He has questions about that. It’s something she’s alluded to before, but he doesn’t know if she’ll count that as his question of a day.

He’s thirty-five years old, and he doesn’t know if he can ask the woman he’s sleeping with more than one question about her life. He knows he’s fucked up a lot, but this seems to be the culmination of several screw ups in his own life.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on that. Well, no, he has all the time in the world, but lately, the boredom has dissipated, the loneliness too.

Lately, he’s got a damn good distraction, and he’s not about to fuck that up.

Emma flips over on her side, her hair a wild, curly mess. She used his pool last night and didn’t wash her hair after. It’s made it even crazier than usual. He thinks he likes it. Makes her seem less reserved.

His phone rings on his bedside table, and he leans over to pick it up.

“Hello, darling.” Emma’s brow raises, but he ignores her. “How are you?”

“Good,” Elsa says. “We’re all good. The girls are in the garden right now, running around and getting all their energy out. I haven’t heard from you in a few days.”

“I’ve been...busy.”

Emma’s hand finds his thigh, and his leg jumps before steadying. She is not about to do what he thinks she’s about to do. Bloody hell.

“Busy?” Elsa asks, as Emma’s hand walks a little closer to his groin. “Doing what? Have you made friends?”

“Why do you always ask me that like I’m a child?”

“Because you’re basically my baby brother.” Killian laughs and then hisses as Emma’s hand wraps around him. She smirks, obviously satisfied with herself, and he knows she’s doing it for the reaction above anything else.

Tease.

He doesn’t mind.

Except this is a poor idea.

“I believe I’m actually older than you.”

“Semantics.”

He laughs again, and Emma’s hand starts working a little more. Fuck. He needs her to stop, and even though she’s doing delicious things to him, she is looking away, acting as bored as can be. And maybe she is, but then he sees one corner of her mouth tick up.

“Mum, is that Killian?” he hears Ally ask, echoed by a squeal from Sophia, who is obviously having the time of her life. There’s a bit of a shuffle, some muted voices, and then his niece’s voice comes through. “When are you coming home?”

“Hello, Ally,” he says, his voice going high when Emma moves her thumb. “How is one of my favorite nieces doing?”

Emma immediately stops and yanks her hand away, practically falling off the bed. She catches herself and kicks up, moving the comforter up and nearly pulling it off him.

“What the actual fuck?” she whispers hisses, slapping him.

He ignores her as Ally asks again when he’s coming home.

“At the end of September, sweetheart,” he promises. “I’ll come home, and then I am going to kiss you right on the cheek.”

“Ew,” she complains, and he can imagine her nose scrunching.

“I also might give you a present.”

“I like that better.”

“Good. I thought you would.” he watches Emma get up and pull a t-shirt out of a drawer. It’s an old Man. United shirt, and he pretends that doesn’t do a damn thing to him, especially since she was just working him up a minute ago. “Listen, Ally, darling, will you hand the phone to your mum? I - ”

“Sophia, that is my hat! Do not wear it!”

And then the line goes dead, and he wonders how long it’ll be before Elsa gets back to her phone and calls him back.

“You let me do that to you while you were on the phone with your niece?” Emma mumbles, pulling the shirt down then pulling her hair into a mess of a knot on the top of her head. He’s not sure if she’s annoyed or amused. “I hate you.”

“Technically, at first it was my sister-in-law,” he corrects, tapping his head.

“That doesn’t make it any better.” Emma gets back in the bed, pulling the comforter all the way up to her chin, and then she shuffles a little further into the bed before sitting up against the headboard and groaning into her hands. “I am mortified.”

“I did stop you when Ally took the phone,” he points out before pulling at the arm of her shirt. “Nice shirt.”

Killian stands from the bed and walks toward his bathroom, grabbing his briefs along the way. “It’s comfortable,” Emma says. “Is this the team you played for?”

Killian stops, the tile cool against his feet, and then keeps moving, leaving the door cracked as he gets half dressed and starts brushing his teeth. As good as it was a few minutes ago, the mood is gone.

Especially now.

How the hell does she know he used to play football? And how long has she known that? Is that why...no, that couldn’t be why, but he knows that’s why a lot of women have.

“A long time ago,” he says, spitting out toothpaste. “I was with Chelsea when I retired.”

“Is that another team?”

“Uh, yeah,” he laughs, continuing to brush his teeth but sticking his head out of his bathroom door. “You didn’t know that?”

Emma shrugs as she types on her phone. “I don’t know anything about soccer. I only know you played because Ruby internet stalked you a few weeks ago and showed me your Instagram. I literally thought you were just one of those adults who is really into his hobbies.”

Killian nearly lets out a sigh, but he stops himself and turns back around to the sink to spit again before rinsing his brush. He looks up at the mirror. His hair is disheveled, there are lines around his eyes and on his forehead, and his stubble is growing to the point where a beard is beginning to form. He’ll shave later.

So Emma doesn’t know anything about football then. Or him, for that matter. He’s not sure he entirely believes her, that she didn’t look up any more about him, and he doesn’t like that uncertainty. Usually, when he meets someone, they have the upper hand and know the surface layer of all the dirty details of his life.

They usually don’t care to find out the real stories. Not that most of them redeem him in any way.

“Not a hobby,” he says, taming his hair with his hands. “It was a damn good job.” He leaves the bathroom and leans against the doorframe. “You ever play?”

She laughs and puts her phone down. “No.”

“Not even as a kid? Come on. I hear every lass in America plays as a kid.”

“Is that your question of the day?”

Damn. “No.” Killian walks toward the bed and puts his hands on either side of Emma’s head on the headboard, leaning in close. He sees her chest rise, and he smirks. “My question is to ask you to stay in bed with me all day. What do you say, Swan?”

She sits up, and her lips lightly brush against his mouth when she talks. “You should have asked me about the soccer because I was already planning on staying here the entire day.”

“Really now?”

“If we can get crepes delivered from this place that’s, like, ten minutes from here.”

Killian kisses her, long and slow until there’s heat simmering low in his belly. “As you wish.”

-/-

Emma doesn’t come over every night. Nor does he go to her place. But it seems that way as July rolls by, full of hot days that seem to linger forever. Killian finds himself busy during the days. Emma usually has work early in the mornings, so if she’s staying over, she leaves before eight. He doesn’t know how she has time to breathe working at both the Tavern and The Oaks, but she makes it work. When she leaves, he gets up and uses the gym in the basement of the house, going through his tried and true routines before he laces up his trainers and either runs on the beach or on the sidewalks through his little area of the vineyard. He finds the sidewalks are better for his knees, so he tends to stick with that and leaves walking on the beach for his afternoon phone calls with Elsa and the girls or Ariel and Eric.

It’s a routine, one that changes during the day, but for the first time since he got here, he doesn’t hate every damn day. He doesn’t spend his time actively having to try not drink or thinking about Liam or football. He practically buys out a local bookstore and goes through the novels faster than he has in years. He visits different restaurants, museums, goes along with some tourist activities he finds online, and he explores any shop that strikes his fancy.

And while his routine changes, there is one constant: he eats a meal at the Blue Dog Tavern.

At first, he thought Emma would kick him out for it, but now, she often comes and sits with him for a few minutes or sends him a drink from her office. He always sits in Ashley’s section and lets her talk about her growing belly even if he knows little about pregnancy, and he spends at least an hour eating and watching all the people around him.

It’s a hell of a lot better than the twenty-four-hour diners with sticky floors and bad coffee.

Killian shoves his keys in his pocket and pushes open the door to the Blue Dog. Marina greets him, telling him to seat himself anywhere in Ashely’s section, so he goes to his favorite booth and settles down. He can’t see the television from it, so it’s the perfect spot to completely escape from the world with no risk of his past showing up right before his eyes.

He may be feeling better, may be able to have a drink or too at night without wanting to have five more, but he knows he’s possibly only one bad day from it all coming undone, the thread unraveling faster than he can wind it back up.

“Tea or coffee today, Killian?” Ashley asks, notepad in hand.

“Tea, I think, but not the blasted stuff you gave me last time.”

She laughs and writes down his drink order. “Do you know what you want to eat already or should I come back?”

He hands her the menu. “The daily special and a side salad.”

“Perfect. I’ll be back with that as soon as possible.”

“No need to rush,” he says, smiling. “Is - ”

“She’s filling out orders for next week, but I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Ashley winks before walking away, and Killian wonders what the hell everyone in this restaurant thinks of him and Emma. It must be peculiar, but if he’s picked up anything from Emma, it’s that she likely doesn’t share much about her personal life with her employees. She surely won’t tell him that he’s the man she’s sleeping with for the summer, but they might pick up on that on their own.

The food here is good, but it’s not every day good.

He’s finished his salad and half of his sandwich when she comes out from the back. Today, she’s already in the black dress she wears to The Oaks, and her hair is pushed back into a ponytail. She looks exhausted, and unfortunately, the reason has nothing to do with him.

“I only have a second to say hi,” she says, sliding into the booth and grabbing a roll from the basket, breaking off a piece and popping it into her mouth. “We are having an issue with our fish orders, and it’s an absolute nightmare.”

“That sounds like I won’t be ordering any fish this week.”

Emma takes another bite of her bread. “I wouldn’t if I were you. Do you want to come to my place tonight? I’m off at ten.”

“Sure.” He picks at the bread on his sandwich. “Though, the last time I was at your place, that damn crab pillow ended up in the bed, and I didn’t appreciate that.”

Her nose scrunches with her laugh. “I hate that thing too, but Ariel loves it.”

“You live in that house the entire year. Why don’t you redecorate it for your taste?”

Her shoulders tense, and she stops chewing before slowly starting again. He already knows this is going to be his personal question of the day. Sometimes she forgets about it and lets the conversation flow freely, but when he hits a nerve, she’s more on her guard.

He gets it. He can be the same way.

“Personal question,” she says, and he knows her better than he should. “And I’ve redone my bedroom and little bits in the kitchen and living room, but I don’t know. I guess I keep it how the Fishers have it because it’s their home. There are memories there, and I don’t want to take any of those away for when I do eventually get another place. It’s....it’s good to have a family home with memories.”

Killian arches his brow, but Emma looks away, picking at the roll again. He never really had a family home, not after his mum died and his dad became obsessed with using Killian’s football skills for his own fortune, but he likes that sentiment.

A family home with memories. Good ones. That would be the dream.

“What about you?” she asks, changing the subject before he can press further. “Aren’t you excited to get back to your place where all the stuff is yours? You’re living in a place that’s not your own, so I’m sure you’re ready to get back to your family.”

She doesn’t mean anything by it, but her words cut. He’s here because he lost the one person in his family who he was closest to, but he doesn’t want to talk about that, not now. This is supposed to be a good time. It isn’t supposed to be about dark histories.

“I’m enjoying my time here,” he answers honestly. “There’s this woman who is an absolute spitfire, and she’s been occupying most of my time. I’ve been, well, metaphorically tied up in bed too much to think of returning home.”

“Ha, ha,” she monotones with a roll of her eyes. “That’s not what I - ”

“Hi!”

They both turn, and Emma’s friend Mary Margaret is standing there, bouncing back and forth on her toes. “Hi, Marg,” Emma says. “You’re early.”

“I know. I got finished tutoring early, so I thought I’d drop by. I didn’t know you’d have...other company.”

“Nice to see you again,” Killian says, nodding at Mary Margaret.

“Yeah, nice to see you.” Mary Margaret seems hesitant, like she didn’t meet him weeks ago at dinner, and he wonders just how much she knows about his arrangement with Emma. From what he’s learned, they seem close, but he also knows Ruby is Emma’s more...accepting friend. “How are you?”

“I’m good, love. Just badgering Emma at work. I’m surprised she hasn’t kicked me out yet.”

“Annoy me a little too much, and I will.” Her ankle hooks with his under the table, and Killian bites his lip to keep from smiling too much. “So, what’s up, Marg? Why’d you want to drop by? Have you heard of this thing called phones?”

Mary Margaret chuckles before sliding into the booth next to Emma. Emma’s ankle unhooks from his, and he tucks his feet under the booth. “So, you know how David wants to have that big barbecue for all of our friends and neighbors?”

“Yeah, you guys do it every year because you’re insane.”

“Anyway,” she says, playfully rolling her eyes, “we were wondering if we could get the Blue Dog to cater some of the sides. I know you guys don’t cater, but we could pay extra. Please.”

“You do know there are restaurants who do cater who could handle this?”

“Yes, but we love the food here. Killian gets it, right?”

“Uh, yes,” he mumbles, not sure what he’s supposed to say. From Emma’s death glare, he knows he’s chosen incorrectly. Bloody hell. “I love it.”

“Exactly,” Mary Margaret says. “We’ll pay extra. Promise. In tips so the staff can get it instead of the owners.”

Emma sighs and sinks into the booth, crossing her arms over her chest. “I need to know the order at least two weeks ahead of time, and it’s going to take me some time to figure out how much you guys need to pay.”

“Ahhhh, perfect!” Mary Margaret hugs Emma before sliding out of the booth. “You’re the best! I can’t wait to call David! Oh, and Killian, you should come too. It’s on August 14th. We’d love to have you there.”

Killian scratches his ear and nods, flashing her a tight smile. He doesn’t think Emma would welcome him at a party full of her friends, so he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable no matter how nice it might be to be in a large group of people.

“He’ll be there,” Emma says, surprising him, and he feels her toe tap his shin. “If he can make it, of course. You know, he has a very busy social calendar.”

“I wonder why that is, darling.” He winks, making Emma smile, and he taps his toes into hers right back. “I’ve heard you keep pretty busy as well.”

Emma’s mouth gapes before closing, and her green eyes widen, lashes nearly hitting against her brows. “Ass.”

“Well, I know you like - ”

“Okay.” Mary Margaret claps her hands together. “I’ve got to go. Emma, I’ll send you the menu after I talk to David tonight. And Killian, we really would love to have you there.”

“I’ll see,” he says as he fights to keep from smiling too widely. “May I recommend the cheddar bites for the menu. They’ll kill you, but you’ll enjoy it.”

“I have never once seen you get the cheddar bites,” Emma scoffs.

He leans over the table, pressing his chin in his hand and smirking the way he knows she likes. She tells him he’s obnoxious when he does it, but sometimes he can see past that hard shell exterior. “I’m full of surprises, darling.”

“That you are, Jones. That you are.”

-/-

-/-

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