#nonnos do research

[zeherili-ankhein]

Okay so we know by now that Nonnos' sole intention was to make Indians worship Dionysos, but according to him they already worshipped the other Greek Gods.

Aretos is seen worshipping Aphrodite for his marriage to his wife (forgot her name)

Gazos is a place which is considered "the steadfast fortress of Ares"

Groups of people "holding" Hysporos and Arsenie

Plus we can already see how some of the Indian characters have descended from the Greek Gods

Now we need to figure out what to do with these depictions.

😭😭😭😭😭😭 yaar Nonnos tumhara crackfic bhari pad rha hai

Idk.... Maybe some travellers or interracial (Greek x Indian) people worshipped them??

Or perhaps there were some people who were already influenced by the Greek culture and all...

The fortress of Ares could be dealt with by saying Ares was just a regular visitor over there so they gave him a place to stay- lmao idk

ACTUALLY the descendants one is a good one because idk we could call the characters Apollovanshi or Zeusvanshi or something...

No but won't that make sense?? To have Greek Gods descendant kids, cuz that's a pretty normal thing with the Hindu Gods too...

The only problem would be the worshipping thing... Nonnos should have done so much research... Smh smh

[fly-away-flynn]

OMG MAN I LOVE YOU (respectfully)

Oh I mean... Rogermon Nonno here. I read the new chapter and oh man oh man!!!

I can't express how much I love this chapter! I love this blasphemous Roger fantasizing in the Church. I love Simon confessing his lust. I adore the way you write them. You make them just perfect! I'll reread it and leave you a proper comment on AO3 another time, but I had to say it here. Thank you for writing this chapter!

Oh and this line:

"He lets himself succumb to his demons in a Church."

Chefs kiss ♡

Haha Thank you Nonno! I spent a little more time on this one, so I feel like my lines were better Haha! I adore that you loved it, I wanted to make sure that it would be something you did enjoy 😂!

I very much enjoy exploring with Roger and Simon, so maybe I’ll do a lot more of it in the future 😉.

[changingplumbob]

Villareal: Chapter 6, Part 5

Joey's night concludes and preparation for family brunch begins.

CW: Moderate sim spice. Content Warning Guide

Luna (mummy) and Devin (mama) use some German and Italian. Bambino/s (Italian) Male child/children Buongiorno (Italian) Good morning Caro (Italian) Dear Nonna/Nonno (Italian) Grandfather/Grandmother Piccolo (Italian) Little one Zia/Zio (Italian) Aunt/Uncle

Joey wakes up with a start. He’s lying on his bedroom floor?

Marianna: Are you okay?

Joey: Marianna? What happened? We were just…

Joey pushes himself up feeling very confused. He was just at the nightclub. He’s used to the quickness of loading screens but this was something different. His genius mind is telling him to remain calm and gather facts but his paranoid trait is panicking.

Marianna: See I’ve never actually teleported someone with me before, I think I had the calibration off so you kind of passed out

Joey: Passed out? Yeah but- did you say teleport?

Marianna: Yes, I hope you’re okay. I was just reading your mind and I saw your photos and I hoped you might want one of real me

Joey: Reading... my... mind?

Marianna: It’s a thing we can do

Joey: Who is we?

Marianna: Oh you know… aliens

Joey is taken aback. Aliens? He always knew they were real but the research on their abilities was spotty at best. Unsurprisingly they didn’t exactly offer themselves up for tests. And he’d just…

Joey: Oh please tell me I’m not pregnant. I can’t be pregnant

Marianna: What? No! I’m not one of those ones. I was left in a carrier myself, I wouldn’t do that to a kid. I just… I know I’m a bit older than the other women in the photos…

She looks at the wall and folds in on herself a bit.

Joey: You’re saying… you read my mind, and know that me and the watcher need to keep track of my numbers with photos… and you teleported us here… because you were nervous that I wouldn’t want a photo of you

Marianna: I thought… you seemed to enjoy our time together so… you might want a photo of what I actually look like

Joey: I’ve never seen an alien before, at least not that I know of. But if you felt enough of a connection when we were woohooing, I’d be honoured to see the real you

Marianna: *smiling* Don’t freak out

Joey tries his best to keep his face straight as Marianna stretches. She changes from the human outfit into a cozy sleepwear number in alien form. It happened so fast Joey isn’t sure he actually saw the change happen. He has so many questions! But he has to remember this is stressful for her to.

Joey: You look amazing. Your eyes are spectacular. Your skin… you were glowing earlier right?

Marianna: *giggles* yes. When our emotions get strong it can be hard to hide and you just… made me feel all kinds of things

Joey: Likewise

He grabs his camera out and gets a shot of her to join the others.

Joey: I’m glad you didn’t mind read about my photos and decide to teleport me into an incinerator

Marianna: *giggles* No! Your mind… You make love but you respect the ones you’re with. Not incinerator worthy

Joey smiles and moves towards her, taking one of her hands and sliding her closer to him.

Joey: I don’t suppose you in any way used your alien powers on the dating app

Marianna: *blushing* Maybe. But I swear I didn’t coerce you in person, and I double checked your mind before-

Joey cuts her off with a kiss. She puts her arms around his neck and relaxes into him. She may not have been his typical type but seeing her, talking to her, everything that happened in that nightclub was what he wanted. Heck, he was glad she thought him worth messing with an app for.

Marianna: Why

Joey: Hmm?

Marianna: Why are you glad about that

Joey: Oh, mind reading. I guess I’m flattered my profile was attractive enough to warrant your effort. Can I give you a proper thanks?

Marianna: You did in the club

Joey: *whispers* Read my mind. You’ll see I can do better if you'd like to go again

Smiling Marianna uncurls herself from him and lets him unbutton her shirt and slide her pants off.

Joey: How did you change outfits anyway

Marianna: Oh that outfit was connected to my disguise. Remove the disguise and I can be wearing something else entirely

On his knees now Joey looks up at her.

Joey: Call me biased but I think you look breathtaking wearing nothing at all

Before she can reply Joey pulls her close and lets his mouth go to work. He is intrigued with the noises she makes. He thought he’d heard most of what women could sound like but the alien tone of her voice was something new. When she seems wet enough he stands up and she helps him out of his clothes. He thinks about what they could do next…

Marianna: The third option sounds good

Joey: *laughs* Try to stop reading my mind and just be in the moment

Joey hadn’t thought he’d be interested in woohoo with an alien but his time with Marianna was making him rethink his stance. A woman is a woman after all, and Marianna certainly had experience. He tried to hold out but with those alien vocals she got him to release even quicker than the last time.

Marianna: *softly* don’t worry, I take it as a compliment

Giving him a final kiss Marianna begins to redress while Joey cleans up. Unfortunately his paranoid brain still hasn’t settled down.

Marianna: Joey, I haven’t impregnated you. Relax

Joey: Is it okay if I like, tell people…

Marianna: *laughs* You’ll have a photo of me on your wall, I’m fairly sure they’ll believe you woohoo’d an alien

Joey walks her to the front door and watches her go, again somehow missing her changing back into her human disguise even though he never took his eyes off her. Pondering the events of the night he locks up and heads to bed, hoping he’ll be able to get enough sleep to put in an appearance at family brunch.

The sun rises alongside Luna and Devin. In the room next to theirs two toddlers yawn and greet the day, racing each other to their potties.

While Luna tackles some chores that need doing Devin and Joey pull together to prepare brunch. While Joey works on bagels Devin sorts out place settings.

Devin: Did you have a good night

Joey: I did! I woohoo’d an alien

Devin: *dubiously* How much did you drink

Joey: I’m serious! I’ll show you the photo later

Devin: It’s not an in action shot is it? Because I love you but there are limits

Joey: No! But it’s got me thinking, there must be other occults out there

Devin: Focus on the *Joey spills stuff* food…

Joey: Don’t panic, I’ll clean it up

Devin: I’ll give you a hand when I’m finished this

Joey: But like I was saying, since aliens do exist on earth some of the other stories must be true

Devin: What stories? Some of us spent our time learning Shakespeare not becoming cryptozoologists

Joey: I wouldn’t woohoo bigfoot! Unless you know bigfoot had a hot human woman form... But if I could land a mermaid, a vampire and say… a werewolf, then I could be the most experienced sim in game! Like how many other sims could claim that achievement?

Devin: Dream big little brother. How’s your game coming

Joey: Slowly, I’ve put the beta out and I’m waiting for reports from play testers. Should be ready for a final polish after brunch though

Devin: If you need someone who doesn’t understand video games to test I’m happy to help

Joey: *laughs* That’s not a terrible idea sis

Devin: It’s my idea, of course it’s great

The sound of wobbly footsteps can be heard in the corridor, the twins are up.

Joey: Uh oh, here comes trouble

Devin: Buongiorno bambinos! Did you not feel like sleeping in

Alfred: No mama. We be awake for family

Rilian: Yes. Nonno and Nonna coming?

Devin: Absolutely. Did you two get dressed all by yourselves

The twins beam and chatter over each other excitedly before sitting down by the counters and spending time on their tablets.

Devin: That’s the table set. I’ve pushed the high chairs into the hall so we can all fit. Alfred, Rilian, are you okay with sitting on the bench?

Twins: *too engrossed in screens to reply*

Devin: I’ll take that as yes. Are your bagels finished yet

Joey: Not just yet. Trust the process, they’ll be good

Devin walks over to her sons hoping that they’ll listen more the closer she is to them.

Devin: Any requests for breakfast?

Alfred: Cereal!

Devin: Caro we have cereal when we don’t have guests. On Sundays we get nice breakfasts. Rilian?

But Devin’s picky eater is ignoring the question about food.

Devin: Mama could make… omelettes, French toast, pancakes-

Alfred: Yes!

Devin: Pancakes, si? Oh looks like Zio Joey has finished making bagels for us. What do we say?

Alfred: Thank you Zio Joey

Rilian: Thanks Zio

Devin: That’s my bambinos. Mama is so proud of you remembering your manners

Rilian: Mama tell Mummy?

Devin: Si, I will tell Mummy

Joey: When did this stereo break? I swear it was working when I left last night

Devin: I figured you’d probably be the best one to fix it

Joey: *starts fixing* And what if I get electrocuted?

Devin: You know tech, you’ll be fine

Rilian: Go Zio Joey!

Alfred: Zio can do!

Joey: I suppose. Gosh I hope Deanna is getting better at her robots, she got fried last time I visited

Devin: She enjoys tinkering, I guess some zaps are the price to pay. Okay bambinos, mama’s going to make the pancakes

Previous ... Next

[mask131]

I am growing more and more tired of seeing bad Greek mythology posts... But I can’t escape them and due to the popularity of the subject they’ll probably keep existing for a long time X)

So here is my five main points : the main points that make a Greek myth post “bad” (as in misinterpreting, misrepresenting, misjudging Greek mythology) ; but also the main points one can work on to gain a better handling on Greek mythology, the main points one can use to make better posts, the main points one needs to work on if they want to explore Greek myth.

1) Do not confuse Greek mythology and Roman mythology. Despite the lie everybody tells you that “Roman gods are just Greek gods by another name”, NO! That’s only good when a teacher tells that to a class of middle-schoolers. But we know better. That’s two different world eras, two different cultures, two different religions - two different pantheons, who happen to have lot of similarities (due to one copying the other) but also a lot of differences (Roman gods did exist in a very different set of incarnations before they were reshaped to imitate the Greek gods - and they later added so many new gods not present in the Greek world). 

2) Do not forget that there is a difference between Greek mythology and Greek religion. The legends and myths of Greek mythology were shaped by literary and poetic works, and in them the gods are given a very human behavior, with flaws, and family drama, and it is all a question of telling stories. In Greek religion, the gods are perfect omniscient omnipotent super-beings and forces of nature always good and always right. That’s a bit of a caricatural description, but there is a reason why priests of the Greek religion though some Greek literary works depicting the gods were blasphemous.

3) Do not ignore the chronology. Always try to look at the sources you take a myth from, at the dates the texts were written, and by who. There is a huge difference between the “very old” Greek literary texts, like Hesiod and Homer back in the “Old Greece”, and the very late writers born in a Greek world heavily influenced (or under domination by) other cultures and nations (the Dionysiaka of Nonnos). Because you should remember that while the older and more ancient texts were just dealing with myths, legends and beliefs still very vivid and alive, the later texts often reconstructed or invented entire things based mostly on what we would call today “folkloric research” about things forgotten by “modern” Greeks, on reactions to famous literary works, or on a pure desire to make a new, interesting work in front of a long and heavy heritage.

4) Talking about Homer and Hesiod: do not forget that Greek mythology is not unified. It is a series of numerous traditions and variations spanning through millenia. The better example of that is Homer and Hesiod. Everybody knows that these two were the fundations of Greek mythology as we know today, the fathers (or grandfathers) of Ancient Greek literature, the leviathans and behemoths of Greek culture. But people tend to ignore that these two presented different versions of the Greek mythology, different versions and incarnations of the gods with two different genealogies, characterizations and chronologies - to the point that their work blatantly contradict each other by moment. One character I talked about previously was Eris: the Homeric Eris is the sister of Ares (and thus daughter of Zeus and Hera) ; the Hesiodic Eris is one of the numerous negative entities born out of Nyx before Zeus was even born - and thus a sister of entities such as Hypnos and Thanatos. This is an IMPORTANT difference, explained by the fact that these two writers took from two different traditions.  Same way with each Greek city, which had its own variation of the mythology: each city had its own favorite god, its own local heroes, and as a result each city told a version of the myth where their favorite “shined” much better. If we have such a good point of view of Athena today, it is because Athens (her city) became THE major cultural power and political influence, resulting in the Athenian versions of the myths spreading everywhere. It is a bit similar (kind of stretch but still) to how the United-States became so influential people sometimes know better American retellings of famous stories rather than other versions. 

5) One cannot fully understand Greek myths and legends without understanding Greek society. It is very important to understand Ancient Greek society because despite how “simple” it might seem at first, the truth is that it is a very alien society to us with a lot of things not obvious AT ALL. The most famous example: the myth of Hades and Persephone. How many people ignored the fact that in Ancient Greek society, the only thing you need to make a marriage legal and justified and official is the authorization of the father? That girls are technically “objects” belonging to their father and that their mother had no right or power when it came to marrying them, and that marriages were all about just transmitting the ownership of the girl from a father to a husband. It is not at all obvious for us in modern days, but it is something much needed to understand the complexity and depth of the Hades and Persephone myth. Historical and social context is NEEDED.

There’s probably more to point out, but when it comes to broad generalization, this is the best I can do for now.

[sylvinuk-turkey]

Today was another long day but a good one!

We spent the night at our family friend Mehmet’s house, which we could tell the inside was lovely, but could only imagine what outside looked like in the dark when we arrived last night. In the morning, looking out the window and off the terrace of our 2nd floor room it was a beautiful property.

PS. Mehmet knows my nonno (Italian grandfather). They met Mehmet’s first year in grad school at university of Philadelphia where my grandfather was his “mean” academic advisor. I say mean because as Mehmet tells the story, he came to nonno after a month or so into the first semester saying “I have too much on my plate, too many hours. Why did you let me take so many?” And my nonno replied something like, “so many of you international students come thinking you’re so smart, you had to learn for yourself.”

Anyway, they had prepared a lovely Turkish breakfast on the lower terrace which I promptly forgot to take photos of. But like normal Turkish breakfast included a mixed fruit plate (pears and orange slices), a mixed veggie plate (cucumbers, tomatoes and long peppers which are a specialty here in Turkey), cheese, simit and bread, scrambled eggs and of course Turkish tea.

After our leisurely breakfast and great conversation, about Mehmet’s companies and how he’s doing some user research of all things, we started our drive towards Efes (aka Ephesus in English). On our way out of town we saw many wineries, turns out Urla and the surrounding area is known for its wineries. Mehmet said more are being built every day, sadly at the expense of the local surrounding forest.

We were meeting up with Allan and Frank at 1:30p. Reminder, we met up with Allan in Istanbul at the start of their trip, and they’ve since also gone to Cappadocia and on a boat trip. This was the trip my parents were going to take with them, but we’re sadly not able to. Gokay’s parents ended up taking my parents spot on the boat and the four of them had a lovely time.

Anyway, Frank and Allen were coming from the boat (Gokay’s parents went back to Selimiye), and we’re meeting us at Efes for a guided tour. Mehmet, Julia (his wife), Gokay and I were arriving a little early and decided to stop at the “Virgin Mary House” which is about a 10 min drive up the hill from the Efes “upper entrance” where we were meeting them and the guide.

The Virgin Mary house was a quick visit. It’s a 2-3 room stone “hovel” that had been turned into a church honoring the Virgin Mary. You go in one door and out the other in a minute or two. Honestly, the walk from the parking lot to the site was longer (and longer on the way back because it was up hill). Then we drove back down the hill and waited ~10 minutes at the touristy cafe across from the upper entrance eating an ice cream bar.

Once they arrived we used the restroom, added more sunscreen and we were off. It was a 2 hour tour from the upper gate to the lower gate. Such a large city of incredible ruins, and we haven’t even uncovered half of it! The guide said they’re actually doing that on purpose as things are much better preserved and secure underground. The ruins spanned from 3000 BC to 300AD (ish). It went from a pagan site, to Greek, to Roman, to Christianity. So there are pegan temples turned churches, the theater is Greco-Roman (Greek because they had to build up a hillside, roman because they didn’t think people would pay attention with a view so they put a building backdrop). One statue, or what was left of one (photo above) showed they knew the world was round, but that information was lost. They had a library, which we took a picture in front of. They also had plumbing and heating including inside these 7 incredible “terrace houses” they’ve uncovered (photo below). It was amazing!

Once we finished we had a little snack at a local shop near the street bazar, since it was Saturday. Then Gokay and I had a van bus to catch, while Allen and Frank made their way to Izmir for their last day in Turkey. So we said quick goodbyes and went our separate ways.

Our van bus went to Aydin, where we had to wait an hour to take a different bus to Marmaris at 7:30p. We stopped in 3 places on the way plus two police stops, so we didn’t get to the Marmaris bus station (otogar in Turkish) until 10:20ish. Then we had to take a taxi to pick up a rental car. Then Gokay drove the manual transmission car 45 minutes through the dark curvy mountain roads to Selimiye. We arrived around 11:45p, after having taken 6 types of transportation today!!! Phew!

His parents were so sweet to stay awake but we all were in bed around 12:15a or so.

[lultimagoccia]

... dammit. how was a guy meant to fan the flames of his manly determination when those lips grace his knuckles so softly, so tenderly and adoringly? he wanted to be mad, because anger had compelled him through many tribulations in life. it was useful to him.

but it was impossible to maintain then. she'd always been stronger than him, because only an opponent as formidable as she could cool his legendary temper with the merest touch.

" hmmh, " he huffed, scarred fingers curling gently around her tiny palm. " we see. i wanna give you a good time ... cuz we been through a lotta things lately, and i got too many good things in my life right now to forget 'em. "

pepp was still kind of processing the events of his nonno's funeral. wasn't all good or all bad, but varying shades of one or both. and she was still doing her research ... yes, the both of them just needed to get out of their own heads and hearts a while. it would do them both well.

" ... and. maybe you remind me of a few things i been forgetting about you lately, eh? i am an old man. my mind, it loses things too easy ... "

❛ i think the fact that you're thinkin' about things like that means that you won't stop caring . ❜

hell , they've both been a little busy , lately . she's not expecting his full attention , every day . she knows that he loves her . she can never quite reach his temple to kiss it , so she takes his hand , lips pressed to his knuckles , as they often are .

❛ nope . never found shoes that really fit my feet . ❜ look at those peets . they're weird . can you blame her . as a matter of fact , wouldn't that big fuckoff tail pose a bit of a problem ? ❛ i got some sandals , though ? if i really need to wear 'em . ❜

[alatismeni-theitsa]

do you have any recs for books about greek mythology written by greek authors (aside from homer lol)? i'm greek and live in the western diaspora, so the only ones i know of are by americans (or ovid, bleh). basically i would love a reading list from you

�� Reading List on Greek Mythology 🔷

First of all, I found this old post of mine, so it's time to resurface it!

My initial advice is to focus on one story at a time, or one major deity at a time, and slowly more stories will unravel.

I don't think I could find a manageable number of books on Greek mythology by Greeks in Greece because there must be.... a lot. And, tbh, I am very exposed to Greek mythology through other means so I don't actively seek the books. Many of their works are free online if you search them in Greek, through educational initiatives/sites like Βικιθήκη (link) or Project Gutenberg.

You can find whatever book but always look for their sources. Good sources would be Homer, Hesiod, Pindar, Apollodorus (the Athenian), Bacchaelides (Βακχυλίδης), Theokritos, Diodorus the Sicilian, Strabo, the Homeric Hymns, or any ancient Greek hymns in general, ancient Greek plays, e.g. by Aristophanes, Euripides, and Sophocles. Different ancient works fill the gaps we may have for certain stories. Of course, you can read the sources themselves as they have been translated from ancient to modern Greek many times. They can be quite cheap to find, actually, at least in Greece.

You might also want to check, from the Hellenistic period, Apollonius of Rhodes, Callimachus, Eratosthenes, and Parthenios. Wikipedia also provided the later ones (Roman to "Byzantine" era) like Coidus the Smyrnaean (Κόιντος ο Σμυρναίος), Nonnos the Panopolit with his Dionysiaca and I add them here because they are still ancient and record a later "version" of the Greek myths within Greek culture because the myths didn't stop existing and evolving after the time the periods the West was interested in xD (Or maybe they contain very old versions too, that were not saved in other works)

Also take a look at these Byzantine works :O "Άλλα έργα που βοήθησαν σημαντικά στη συντήρηση των μύθων είναι το λεξικό του Ησύχιου, η Σούδα, και οι πραγματείες του Ιωάννη Τζέτζη και του Ευστάθιου Θεσσαλονίκης."

Another option is searching online for Greek bookstores that deliver to your country. I actually delayed this answer because I could not find my answer with different Greek bookstores abroad. I didn't find them, sadly, only this one: https://www.hellenicbookservice.com and www.greek-language.gr . The rest will be found by some good google research on your part (In Greek and in English. Usually the Greek title of the ancient book + the word "pdf").

http://www.mikrosapoplous.gr/t2t.htm is also another nice site I discovered for that purpose!

Βικιθήκη has the ancient texts and you might be able to read them and understand them, depending on your knowledge of Greek. But you can also find the English translations online and then compare them to the ancient Greek text, to see if they are any good. After searching on Βικιθήκη for Ησίοδος, I found this for Έργα και Ημέραι

Another example, look at this online passage from greek-language.gr (link)

If you want a general overview on where to start, I think choosing one deity or myth from here might help!

For some quick research, theoi.com could also be a good start, as it may have some small inaccuracies but generally, it's a decent source if you want to find your way around the myths. But I really mean it when I say it should be a "start". Because what you should focus on first should be the ancient sources the text on the site will highlight. (And you already asked for books here, so you know where you are heading)

The internet is a goldmine of knowledge and όποιος ψάχνει, βρίσκει 😉

You can of course also read analyses by different authors, but again you have to keep in mind their agenda or when they are coming from. For example, I recommend (many times refuted) Black Athena as I recommend any book by Adonis Georgiades (aka: not at all! 😂😂) And see how each author presents each source and if their case goes against the general consensus of writers who were more in check by the scientific community.

I also have a Greek channel about Greek mythology to suggest. Sometimes there are English subs. The Greek guy is an archeologist and strongly relies on ancient Greek sources, combining them with his own academic knowledge on Greek myth interpretation. This one is about Zeus and Hera, and why Zeus is *not an asshole* xD

I really hope I covered you with this one! I am very sorry I was late to answer but I was searching into the corners of my mind for older posts I could reference here, and of course making sure I had everything listed on the text.

Καλή συνέχεια! 💙💙💙

==========================================

If you made it this far (you, and you, and you, and you!), for the thousands of posts with resources I've made on Greek ancient and modern Greek culture, consider buying me a tiropita coffee 💜

[peterxwade24]

Into the Mari-Verse

For Maribat March 2021 day 12 prompt Second Chance (sort of. if you squint hard enough).

I know this one is late (like four days late) but i hope you enjoy it regardless.

Enjoy ~

Ever since Marinette was little she’d always wondered if there was more than just her universe. Her parents had always chuckled at her, simply letting her get wrapped up in what they believed to be an obsession with science fiction.

When Marinette was ten years old she’d already consumed nearly all of the media about other universes or realities. She decided instead to begin writing about her own reality. She simply let her mind wander, writing down everything that crossed her mind.

She was eleven when she met a kind, if opinionated, old man who didn’t tell her that her ideas were useless and better suited for boys like her Nonno Roland. She could look past his opinions on how she dressed and how she acted so she could have someone who didn’t think her stance on the multiverse theory was dumb. His name was Master Wang Fu and he taught her different methods of meditation.

---

Three months after she turned eleven, one month after she met Master Fu, she woke up in a place she’d never been in before. Luckily she had her phone on her so she could quickly search for her parents’ patisserie.

The first article she found was about a fire. The fire took not only her home and her parents’ business, but also her parents. The second article she found was about what happened to her after. She learned that she’d been shuffled around from home to home for a while before some American billionaire, Bruce Wayne, took her in and legally adopted her, giving her several siblings as well as a new grandparent and an aunt.

She was drawn out of her thoughts by a large dog, identified as Titus by a family photo on one of the newspapers’ websites, jumping on top of her and a call of “Copycat?” from her doorway. She turned to look at whomever was at the door, a boy maybe one year older than her identified as Damian by the same family photo.

“Hey, Damian.” She could tell from the way he was looking at her that she usually called him something else.

“Did you hit your head? Should I retrieve Todd?” Damian turned on his heel and went in search of ”Todd”.

Marinette looked at that same family photo, taken by a Ms. Lois Lane, to learn who exactly “Todd” was. She learned his name, Jason Todd, and put a face to the name. Her vision started to get cloudy and she felt herself slump forward.

The last thing she heard was a distressed call of “Pixie?!” before she woke back up in her bed above the patisserie.

---

It had been nearly two months since she had woken up in the Wayne home, having done her research on them in the time since, when she woke up in a different room in the manor. She glanced down, seeing dark skin like Damian’s from her last visit, before searching out a mirror. She looked at herself in the mirror, seeing features she vaguely remembered from Damian prominently displayed on her own face. She glanced down, seeing a black outline of praying mantis peaking through the neckline of the shirt she wore. She decided to get dressed, figuring this other version of her would appreciate the forethought when she woke back up in her body. She pulled on a dark purple high neck shirt with a matching dark purple high-waisted skirt over a pair of gray sheer tights and a pair of purple heeled boots, in an outfit inspired by Starfire.

She left the room, striding through the house as though she owned the building. Her thoughts were cut off by a call of “Man-eater?”

Marinette recognized the voice from the last time she was in the manor. “Jason.” She didn’t get to see the surprise on his face as in the next second her vision was clouding over and she seemed to fall into the wall.

---

The third time Marinette woke up in Wayne Manor, Damian was wrapped around her while their turkey, Jerry, was asleep at the foot of the bed. She gently ran her fingers through Damian’s hair, noticing that their skin tones were almost identical this time, and smiled. She looked up at a barely there sound by the bedroom door and saw a man who she figured would look nearly identical to Damian if he was asleep. She dug back through her memories, recalling that the man in the doorway was named Bruce (the same man who’d adopted her the first time she’d woken up in the manor) while another man, similar to Bruce, appeared just over his shoulder with a smile on his face. Marinette smiled back at him before several sets of too loud footsteps sounded behind the two men, causing her to clap her hands over her ears.

She didn’t hear anything they said as she faded away from this reality, having put together after the first time that she was traveling between realities and inhabiting that reality’s Marinette.

---

The fourth time, Marinette woke up in her bedroom in the patisserie, or what she assumed was her bedroom. She ran her hand through her hair, finding it much shorter than she remembered and when she pulled her hand away there were dark red strands of hair caught between her fingers. She figured maybe she wasn’t Marinette Dupain-Cheng this time simply from the red hair, but she also knew she wasn’t related to Damian due to her pale skin. She watched as her phone lit up with a notification from Chloé, followed by a notification from Nino and finally a notification from Kim before her vision grew cloudy and she drifted away from this reality.

---

The fifth time, Marinette jolted awake in her bedroom, a scream dying on her tongue. She looked around her, seeing a sickly green coloured broken heart floating beside her head. She also noticed the teal colour of her hair, figuring that something had happened to cause her to want to change her hair. She looked at her phone as it lit up with a notification from Chloé, which was one of two common things between this reality and the last. She faded quicker from this reality than the last few, not understanding why until she talked to Master Fu about it.

---

Marinette sat across from Master Fu in the main room of his massage parlor. Her head was bent while she waited for him to finish his tea.

Master Fu looked at Marinette, could see the residual magic from the Rabbit miraculous left on her being. He raised an eyebrow as he caught a glimpse of reisual magic from the Snake miraculous around her head and frowned. “Do you believe in magic?”

Marinette nodded, looking at the older man. “Of course. One can’t believe in alternate realities that run parallel to their own without acknowledging the existence of magic.”

Master Fu suddenly got up and moved to an old looking gramophone, pushing a series of buttons until an ancient looking jewelry box rose out of the gramophone. Master Fu carried it over to the table and opened it to reveal sixteen animal themed pieces of jewelry.

“These are- where did you find these?” Marinette looked up at Master Fu, her eyes shining a pale indigo.

Master Fu smiled at Marinette. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Despite never having come in contact with these jewels you seem to have tapped into the abilities of some of the beings held in this box. It is my sworn duty to protect them. Will you join me in protecting these jewels from harm and reclaiming the two lost jewels?”

Marinette nodded, holding herself back from reaching out for the jewels. “I will join you.”

---

Marinette awoke in Wayne Manor again, this time wearing an ouroboros snake bracelet with yellow citrine eyes, and she instantly knew something was different. “Sass, scales slither,” she uttered as she looked around the room seeing nothing beyond the darkness.

She was cloaked in an aqua green light and when it vanished her eyes glowed yellow allowing her to actually take in her surroundings. She uttered “second chance” as she turned her bracelet engaging her ability as she waited for the sense of wrongness to approach.

Her vision clouded over once again as she faded from this reality, wondering where she’d end up next.

Vipère awoke in her place, her eyes flicking from left to right, before she sighed and slumped back down onto her bed. “Sass, scales rest.” Vipère was cloaked in an aqua green light and when it disappeared, Martha was in her place. “Sass, is anyone else in the room?”

“No Guardian. There isn’t.” Sass responded.

“Thank you Sass.”

@maribatmarch-2k21

[bosooka]

some of y’all might’ve noticed me reblogging like,,,cliche lesbian stuff no offense to lesbians to a weird cryptic tag--no? you didn’t? ok well nevertheless...behold the explanation! if you like:

- farmcore lesbians

- queer stories that aren’t love, simon + do not end in suicide

- books you can tell were an ordeal to research

- ~character-driven~ novels

this may be the wip for you! reply/send an ask to be added to the taglist :D

transcript under the cut:

[Image 1: an all-white powerpoint slide with text in comic sans. the title reads, “no mercy left for god,” and the subtitle reads “a wip intro by isaakandreyevs.” the surrounding rainbow text reads, clockwise: “mormons! gays! mormon gays!” “researching this made me extremely concerned for the safety and wellbeing of christian LGBT teenagers: a novel by me” “this is either the stupidest thing or the best thing i’ve ever written” “the lesbian adoption fantasy every rejected queer kid had at 14 except 900% more christian” “born entirely out of my insane parental instincts” End image 1.]

[Image 2: powerpoint slide titled “what’s in here???” a bullet-pointed list reads as follows:

“- farm lesbians who are moms - Gayngst™ - adoption plot - chosen families!!! - livestock with personalities - teenagers doing stupid teenager things - responsible adults - the jesus christ church of latter day saints (we’ll get there)” End image 2.]

[Image 3: slide titled “trigger warnings.” text reads as follows:

“- major: homophobia, conversion therapy, abuse, self-harm, mental illness, faith crises, suicidal ideation - minor (kind of): farm-typical animal death, bullying, foster care, alcohol use, underage”

aside adds: “yeah this is one of those books but dw there’s a happy ending lmao” End image 3.]

[Image 4: slide titled “plot?? no plot just gays.” text reads as follows:

“1998: farm country, idaho - catholic baby butch joey di angelo meets mormon annie haywood, who is pioneering new levels of lesbian repression - Romance Ensues but annie has really shitty parents - wild mormon stuff happens - and also a roadtrip kind of

2016: dc/virginia bc fuck idaho - joey & annie are now married and agree to foster a mormon girl, bailey, who got taken from her family after she was outed and her dad put her in the hospital - bailey is a trainwreck of a person and has been through three foster families and a group home - but dw the lesbian moms have come to save the day? - idk guys this is a character-driven novel - there’s also a goat” End image 4.]

[Image 5: slide titled “cast, pt. 1″. First drawing shows a woman with curly brown hair and amber eyes. she’s smiling. she has tan skin and freckles, and is wearing a white shirt with a red hoodie. her description reads:

“josephine ‘joey’ di angelo - dumb farm jock - likes rocks (gives cool ones to annie) - catholic but like. a normal person primarily - dad jokes - takes in pathetic life forms - personality is “soft puppy”

the second drawing shows a woman with long, dark hair. she has blue eyes and glasses and is frowning. her description reads:

anna ‘annie’ haywood di angelo - needs a hug - mormon and gay, fucked up about it - no coping mechanisms we die like repressed christian lesbians - loves joey an embarrassing amount - world cold and hard. titty soft and warm - would rather cut her own hand off than drink coffee” End image 5.]

[Image 6: titled “cast, pt. 2″. first drawing shows a Black woman with very dark skin and braided hair. she wears glasses and is holding a starbucks drink. her description reads:

“adanna ‘dani’ bankole - joey’s best friend + self-preservation instincts - bailey’s case worker - isn’t getting paid enough for this shit - patience of a saint - aroace but a Lesbian Magnet™”

second drawing shows a young girl with blonde hair and green eyes. she has heavy bags under her eyes and is frowning. her description reads:

��bailey park - would rather close a door on her head than admit her feelings - prays for the sweet release of death - really, really needs a hug - hasn’t slept since her baptism - a girl smiled at her and she cried for two hours” End image 6.]

[Image 7: slide titled “cast, pt. men”. first drawing on the left shows a young man with brown hair and blue eyes. he’s wearing a suit and tie and is growing the valiant beginnings of a beard. his description reads:

“bennett ‘ben’ haywood - annie’s youngest brother - actually nice - came back from mission to find his family in flames”

the second drawing on the left shows a slightly older man with pale skin, brown hair and blue eyes. he has a full beard and bags under his eyes. his description reads:

“hiram haywood - annie’s younger brother - fuck this guy - Complicated - reason the haywoods are a goddamn ordeal”

the first drawing on the right shows a man with curly brown hair like joey’s, a full beard, and dark brown eyes. he has sunglasses pushed to the top of his head. his description reads:

“anthony ‘tony’ di angelo - joey’s twin - Softe - a good boy who tries his best - let’s go lesbians”

the second drawing on the right shows an older man with grey hair and a beard. he’s wearing wire-frame glasses and a beige cardigan. his description reads:

“nonno - joey’s grandpa - gay magnet (since the 50s) - family sauce recipe will die with him - fought fascists and won” End image 7.]

[lonelyreputation]

Peachy Keen

A/N: Hi!! Enjoy a little thing I wrote about drinking wine in Italy with Shawn!! This is something I want very desperately! Also! Is Shawn a red wine or white wine kinda drinker? Let’s discus.

REQUEST: Plucking a peach off the tree & calloused palms

MASTERLIST 

WC: 5.5K // Fluff

The warm Italian sun was high up in the sky as you peddled your bike down a dirt path.  The crunching sound of your tires rolling over loose dirt and small pebbles was one you would never get tired of.  You momentarily shut your eyes as the light breeze pulled your hair back.

You had just gone into town to pick up a few small groceries for your grandparents.  And biking was your chosen mode of transportation.  You biked into town, spoke the minimal Italian you knew with the shop keeper, and then quickly headed back to the villa.  The reusable bag sitting in your whicker basket was filled with the Italian essentials: fresh vegetables, pasta, and wine.  

God, how you loved visiting your grandparents in the summer months.

Your grandparents lived around the tiny town of Cesena; about an hour north of San Marino and a thirty minute drive to the eastern shore of Italy.  It was a quaint town, one that was rarely ever littered with tourists. 

Your grandparents house came into view as you peddled a little faster up the hill with a smile on your face.  Your time in Italy was almost over, but your boyfriend was coming to visit, and that made you smile.

Shawn had a small break during the North American leg of his tour, and after convincing Andrew that Shawn wouldn’t miss much on the days where nothing was scheduled, the days were approved.  He was due to arrive tonight and then take a taxi down to your grandparents place.  Even though his flight was still a few hours away from landing, you couldn’t help but check your phone every half hour.

You smoothed your white t-shirt and jean shorts down once you got off your bike, plucked the grocery bag from your basket, and walked through the screen door, “Nona!” You called out to your grandmother, “I’m back with the groceries!”

“Kitchen!”

The walls of the hallway were covered with family pictures.  Ones from when your mother was a child, your parents wedding day, your first days of school, and your summers spent in Italy.  The wall was always a walk down memory lane and it made you smile every time.

You carefully placed the bag on the wooden counter and began emptying the contents, “Cristian says hi,” you peeked over your shoulder to see your grandmother stirring a pot of sauce on the stove, “He says that while he loves to see my shining face, he misses seeing you at the store.”

Your grandmother lifted the spoon up to taste the sauce, “Grumpy old man,” she shook her head in laughter, “Still the biggest flirt––even when I take your Nonno.”

Rolling your eyes, you brought the bags of pasta over to the boiling water, “He’s a sweet man.”

“Who?” Your grandfather strolled into the kitchen.

“Cristian,” your grandmother let out a laugh, “From the store.”

Your grandfather shrugged as he opened the cabinet and took out three plates, he paused before closing the cabinet door, “Will the boyfriend be joining us for dinner?”

“He gets in late tonight,” You moved around your grandmother to get three wine glasses down, “He’ll be here for breakfast though.”

“I’m excited to meet him,” your grandmother continued to stir the sauce around in the pan and put a little more salt in the water the pasta was cooking in, “I’ve been doing my research.”

“Nonna,” you whined.

While you weren’t surprised by her answer, she’s been teasing you for the past week about reading up on your pop-star boyfriend.  Oh, nipotina, I need to know absolutely everything about the boy who’s coming over––Nipotina, he’s so cute––Oh, Nipotina, what songs are about you?

“Just want to be prepared,” your grandmother tied back her scraggly gray hair and tried to lift the post of pasta up.  When you saw her struggling, you set the wine glasses on the table and took the pot from her hold and walked it over to the sink.

Hot steam rose up from the sink and you leaned your head back, “He’s already nervous about meeting you guys, don’t intimidate him.”

“Us?” Your grandfather looked over at your grandmother with a soft laugh, “Intimidating?”

The last of dinner preparations didn’t take very long and soon you were sipping on a local red wine, giggling with your grandparents as they recounted the day they first met.  You always admired their love for one another and it was always a goal in life to find some kind of love like theirs.

Dinner was over and you were an hour closer to Shawn’s arrival.  Your grandmother poured you another glass of wine before putting hers in the sink.  You looked up at her quizzically, silently asking her why she wasn’t staying in the kitchen with you.

“It’s late, dear,” she patted your head, “I’ll meet the superstar in the morning.”

You nodded as you took sip of your red wine.  He was so close.  So close that you could feel the excitement rise up from the tips of your toes.  You stood up, walked into the living room area, plucked a book off the book shelf, and brought it back to the table with you. 

With one leg crossed over the other, you picked up your wine glass and took a sip as you flicked open the book.  You understood some parts of Italian, but thankfully, the book you chose was a cook book, so you immersed yourself in the pictures and bookmarked recipes you wanted to try with your grandmother.

You were halfway done your glass of wine when your phone bounced on the table from its vibration.  You jumped in your chair and banged your knee under the table.  You swore silently under your breath and picked up your phone.

Your heart rate increased when you saw his name pop up on your screen.

Just landed.  Have to go through customs but I’m here!! And I can’t wait to see you x

Shawn was here.  Shawn was in Italy.  Shawn was about forty minutes away from your grandparent’s house.  You couldn’t help the giddiness that erupted throughout your whole body.  You lightly tapped your feet on the ground in order to let out some excitement.

Your fingers never slid so fast on your screen; YAY! Let me know when you’re out and on your way!! Miss you so much!!

You phone vibrated instantly in your hand; Not much longer.

Butterflies.  You felt butterflies in your stomach fluttering.  You wondered if your grandmother still felt butterflies in her stomach with your grandfather. You tried to refocus your gaze on the cook book in front of you, but your mind was occupied with Shawn.  You hadn’t physically seen him in person in two months, so the anticipation was killing you inside.

For obvious reasons, it took a bit of time for Shawn to make it past security and to the car Andrew made sure he set up to take Shawn.  You can never be too careful, Andrew spoke on a three-way call between you and Shawn when you were planning the logistics, and it’ll be easier for him to get to your place with a ride already set up.

It was just past midnight so the drive from the airport to your grandparent’s house shouldn’t take much time at all.  He was so close.  So close.

Sitting in a chair was letting your anxiety fester so you decided you needed to get up and do something.  You walked into the sitting area and grabbed the water can to fill it up with water.  The back sitting area overlooked the Italian rolling greens countryside that you wanted to immortalize your mind for the rest of your life.  You slid open the wooden farm door and began to water the plants.

The back sitting area was closed off by a wrap around screen so the humid air of the summer night comforted you.  Your grandfather had an immense collection of different kinds of plants.  Some were so tall that they reached all the way to the ceiling and others were small window plants.  It was cute to see how much he adored his plants.  He said that he had a plant for every sibling of his, child, and grandchild.  

He always joked how he got an extra plant for a child if they left their home country of Italy.  So far he had an extra plant for your mother and one for your uncle.  

You were in the middle of watering a plant when you felt your phone vibrate.  Not so gracefully, you set the watering can on the wood floor and slid your phone open.

I think I’m here?

Buzz.

It’s really dark but I see a house with lights on.

Buzz.

Is there a dirt road leading up to your house?

Buzz.

It looks like the pictures you’ve shown me…I think?

You threw your phone on the couch and sprinted through the kitchen and rounded the corner to get to the front door.  You saw headlights of a car and a silhouette of a very familiar body looking toward the house.  

Unlocking the screen door, you pushed it open and you were met with a frazzled Shawn.  His eyebrows were pinched together, no doubt from exhaustion and confusion at the loud noise, but when he saw it was you, a wide smile broke out on his face.

He turned toward the car, said something to the driver, and the car reversed down the dirt path.  The smile hadn’t left Shawn’s face when he turned back around to you.

“C’mere,” he whispered as he dropped his duffle bag to the ground and opened his arms.

Without any hesitation, you sprinted into his arms.  Shawn’s strong arms wrapped around your waist as he squeezed you tight.  With your arms wrapped around his neck, you nuzzled your head into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his signature smell.  

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you breathed out happily.

Shawn was here.  At your grandparents villa in Italy.

You were still wrapped in his arms, but he leaned back and tilted his head to see your face, “God, I missed you so much.”

You took this time to really examine the face you loved that was absent for two months.  His eyes looked tired, you could see small bags under his eyes, he was no doubt tired from all the travel.  But he also looked relieved and refreshed.  While touring took a physical tole on Shawn’s body, you knew he thrived off of the crowds screams every night and that it gave him a newfound passion for music.

A soft smile graced your lips as you appreciated the boy in front of you, “Let’s get you inside.” You took hold of his hand and guided him toward the house.

“Wait––“ he pulled on your hand which caused you to spin and rest a hand on his chest.  Without a second more to waste, he leaned down and lightly pressed a kiss to your lips.  You smiled into the kiss and lightly scrunched up the pink sweatshirt he wore.

His hand came to cradle the side of your face and you fell more in love with him with every kiss.  As much as you wanted to continue to kiss your boyfriend, you could only imagine how exhausted he must feel.  Reluctantly, you pulled away, which caused Shawn to let out a whine.

“Y/n––“

“We’ll have plenty of time to do more of that,” you kissed his cheek, “later.  But right now you need a glass of water and a bed.”

There was a thoughtful look on Shawn’s face before he nodded, “Agreed.”

•••

You awoke with a hand on Shawn’s bare chest, rising and falling softly with each breath of his.  You lifted your head up to look at the clock on your nightstand, 9:30.  You were usually up my eight and downstairs lending a hand wherever your grandparents needed help, but waiting up for Shawn all night led you to sleep in a later later than normal.

A content sigh slipped past your lips as you let your head fall back onto the pillow.  You brought one hand up to rub your eye as you turned your head to see Shawn squirm a little in his sleep.  Not long after his sudden movement, he groaned and lifted both hands to cover his face.

“Mornin’,” he said groggily.

You let out a small laugh as you rolled over on your side, your elbow propping up your chin as you stared down at a sleepy Shawn.  You ran your fingers through his hair and he peaked a look at you through the sliver of his fingers, “Sleep for a few more minutes, you’re probably still jet lagged.”

Shawn shook his head, “Don’t wanna waste any time.”

You continued to lazily run your fingers through his hair as you smiled down at him, “We can go for a picnic this afternoon? I can show you around the place?”

Shawn removed both hands from his face as his eyes shinned with adoration, “Yeah, that sounds nice.”  

With a smile, you leaned your head down to press a chaste good morning peck to his kiss.  But as you broke the kiss, Shawn leaned up and followed your lips.  He brought a hand up to cup the back of your neck, extending his thumb to caress your cheek as he deepened the kiss.

You were a bit caught off guard by the intensity of the kiss, but it had been so long since you had any sort of physical contact with Shawn, so you didn’t fight against it.  You were still hovering over him as you trailed a hand onto his stomach, pushing the thin layer of white sheets away to grant you more access to his bare chest.

With each kiss, Shawn sat up a little more until it was your back pressed that was against the mattress and him hovering over you.  His hand that held the back fo your neck trailed down to your waist as he gave it a squeeze.  You let out a soft moan as you circled your arms around his neck and brought him down closer to you.

Shawn had just slipped his tongue past your lips as he slid a hand up under your shirt, his fingers ghosting over the underside of your breast, when the door to your room abruptly flew open.

“Nipotina, you’ve slept far past normal hours and breakfast is almost––Oh.”

Shawn removed his hand from your shirt and was on the other side of the bed in lighting speed.  It didn’t matter that you had already been caught by your grandmother in a compromising position with your boyfriend, but Shawn was acting as if he had been on that side of the bed all night.  His flushed face and heavy breathing didn’t help his case.

It was silent between the three of you for a few seconds longer before you cleared your throat, “We’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Silence.

You were still in the same position before Shawn flew off you––back pressed against the matters with your shirt slightly wrinkled, “We’ll be down in a minute.”

Your grandmother nodded hesitantly, “Be down in a second and I won’t tell your Nonno what I walked in on.”

You nodded your head as you threw the sheets off and went to you closet.  Your grandmother closed the door, but she popped her head back in and sweetly smiled at Shawn, “Lovely to finally meet you Shawn.”  And without waiting for a response, she closed the door once more as you heard the creaky floorboards on the stairs signaling that she was really away this time.

Flicking through your clothes, you decided on an orange spaghetti strap sundress with a pair of tan sandals.  You took the dress off the hanger and picked up the sandals from the straps in the back.  You set the dress down on the cushion of the bay window in your room and when you had your arms crossed over your stomach, about to take off your shirt, you noticed Shawn was still sitting right on the edge of your bed with a petrified look in his eyes.

“Gonna get dressed?”

That seemed to break him out of whatever trance he was under and flick his eyes toward you as you took off your shirt.  Usually the sight of you without a shirt on would cause him to smirk, but he still look terrified.

You rolled your eyes as you changed your underwear, put on a bandeau, and slipped the dress over your head, “C’mon, Shawn, it’s not like she caught us having sex.”

Shawn’s eyes popped out of his head as he gave you an incredulous look, “She caught us in bed, Y/n!” You let out a laugh as you sat down on the window ledge to put your sandals on, “She probably had a guest room set up for me to sleep in and she finds me in your room––On top of you––And I hadn’t even met her properly yet––“

“Relax,” you walked over and sat down next to Shawn on your bed.  You picked up his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, “Both of my grandparents were okay with you sleeping in my room,” he let out an exasperated breath, “But you should really get ready for the day or else she really will tell my Nonno.” 

You kissed his cheek before jumping off the bed and walking to your door.  Shawn was fast on your trail as he dug around his suitcase for clothes.

“I’ll hold her down,” you winked as you closed the door behind you.

  After freshening up in the bathroom, you skipped down the stairs to see your grandfather at the stove and your grandmother sipping on orange juice while reading a book.  She was in the middle of turning the page when she noticed your presence.

“Where’s the boy?” Her tone was suggestive and you shot her a look that said you promised.  Your grandmother continued to play her dangerous game as she took a sip of her orange juice, “He got in so late last night that I didn’t get to meet him properly.”

“He’s just in the bathroom!” Your grandfather peered over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow as the pan he was cooking on sizzled, “He’ll be down in a second.”

And as if on cue, you heard the old stairs creak under Shawn with every step he took.  Your heart rate increased with each step you heard, and then finally, it felt as if your heart exploded when you saw him standing under the archway of the kitchen.

He wore a loose white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of loose fitting blue jeans with small rips, and white sneakers.  He stood there anxiously as he looked at you for help.

“Nonno and Nonna,” you gave your grandmother a pointed look as you took a few long strides across the kitchen to meet Shawn.  You interlaced your fingers together and smiled up at him briefly before looking at your grandparents, “This is Shawn, my boyfriend––“

“Oh, the popstar,” your grandmother teased, “It’s nice to finally put a name to the face.”

Even though you briefed Shawn that he would endure some teasing, specifically form your grandmother, his eyes still widened, “It’s nice to finally meet you both as well, I’ve heard so much about you guys from Y/n and the summer’s she’s spent here.”

Your grandfather stepped away from the breakfast he was cooking and walked over to Shawn with a hand extended.  Shawn immediately dropped your hand and went to shake your grandfather’s hand, “Nice to meet you, Shawn.”

The handshake only lasted a few seconds and Shawn smiled at your grandfather, “Pleasure to meet you too, sir,” He then broke eye contact to actually take time to look at the kitchen, since when he came in last night it was pitch black, “You have a wonderful house here, the view––it’s incredible.”

You followed his gaze.  He was looking at the back windows through the screened in porch with an infinite amount of plants.  The view was one that was plastered around all Italian tourist brochures: rolling countryside, a few trees dotting the landscape, and soft clouds rolling in from the distance.

“Sit,” you pulled on his hand until you got to the table, “Do you want water? Orange juice?”

Shawn shook his hand and stayed standing as he directed his voice toward your grandfather, “Do you need any help getting breakfast together?”

Your grandmother peered up from her book with both eyebrows raised, impressed that he was offering his help.  She shot you warm smile, and you knew that Shawn had her approval, despite this morning’s incident, and then went back to reading her book.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Shawn,” with his back still facing the three of you, your grandfather pointed up towards a cabinet, “Could you get some plates down?”

Breakfast was filled with laughs, embarrassing stories of your childhood, and lots of conversation with your grandparents getting to know Shawn more.  The sight of Shawn joking with your grandfather, or listening intently to whatever your grandmother said, warmed your heart.

Shawn helped clean up the kitchen when breakfast was concluded and then excused himself to go to the bathroom.  After a substantial amount of time had passed where it worried you how long he had been on the toilet, you excused yourself from the back porch area to check up on him.  You knocked on the bathroom door, but it was empty when you peeked in.  Next, you checked your room, and found Shawn fast asleep on top of the covers.

A small size graced your lips as you gently closed the door and tip toed down the stairs.

You informed your grandparents on Shawn’s whereabouts and they chuckled before resuming their activities.  You picked up a book from the table, and thankfully, this one was in English.

A few hours had passed and it was nearing lunch time.  Shawn still hadn’t made an appearance. You knew he was exhausted from the constant movement of tour, and then traveling to Italy to be with you, and that it was his first real down time in a few months.  Whenever Shawn came back to Toronto after tour, he reserved the following day for just sleeping. 

You wanted to let him sleep, he always works himself too hard you thought, and you knew that you had a few more days to spend with him.  But part of you was really looking forward to that picnic you proposed earlier in the day.  

Your grandparents had plans with some friends in town and left you alone a little bit ago.  The house was silent and it made a good atmosphere for reading.  But you couldn’t concentrate on the book in your hands, always having to re-read the last sentence because your thoughts always seemed to wander off to the boy resting upstairs.

Realizing you needed a mental break, you dog-eared the page, tucked the book under your arm, and walked in the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of lemonade.  You leaned up against the counter, letting the cold liquid coat your throat, as you heard the sound of creaking stairs. A smile automatically made its way onto your lips.

Shawn came into view, still looking a bit dazed from his nap, but smiled instantly when his eyes landed on you, “Still up for that picnic?”

Your smile brightened even more.

After retrieving a basket from the hall closet, a blanket from the living room, and picking out a few cheese and crackers, you wandered over to the wine rack.

With your hands placed on your hips you called out over your shoulder, “Red or white?”

Shawn poked his head around the wall and walked toward you with the basket.  He stood next to you and you could feel him debating on which bottle of wine to chose.

“Let’s do a rosé.”

Your eyebrows raised as you turned your head up to look at him as you snorted, “Rosé?”

Shawn rolled his eyes and lightly pushed your shoulder with his hand, “Grab whatever you want.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” you picked out the first rosé you saw on the rack and held it up, “You picked rosé so we’re drinking rosé.”

You heard Shawn sigh from behind as you grabbed two plastic cups from the kitchen, “Out this way,” you waved over to him and led him from the kitchen, through the back screened porch, and out the door.

You walked down a stone path lined with plants that your mother helped your grandfather make when she was eleven years old.  Walking hand-in-hand with Shawn made you fall more in love with him.  It could just be the Italian air getting to your head, but sharing memories from your summer’s in Italy as a child and actually being able to show Shawn where everything happened…You could see yourself ten years down the line doing this with Shawn and your own kids.

After a while of walking and showing Shawn the landscape, you picked a peach tree to sit under to save your skin from the sweltering sun.  You poked fun at Shawn for wearing jeans, to which he responded that he didn’t pack any shorts when he as on tour, so he was left with minimal outfit choices.

“You still look like an Italian dream,” you over dramatically fluttered your eyelashes at him as you sat down on the blanket Shawn spread out.

He let out a single laugh as he sat down cross-legged and pulled out the cheese and crackers from the basket.  He set them out while you took the corkscrew and tried to open up the wine.  After a few attempts of miserably failing at trying to pull the cork out with the opener, Shawn silently held his hand out.

With a begrudged sigh, you handed over the bottle and watched his arms flex as the cork came out easily from his strength with a soft pop.

You snatched the bottle from him and began to pour the wine in the plastic cups, pouring a little more rosé in your cup than his to mask the embarrassment.  Whether Shawn saw you pour extra into your cup, he didn’t say anything, as you clinked cups and took a big gulp.

“So how’s tour been?” You leaned forward to cut a piece of cheese and place it on a cracker.

Shawn took a sip of his wine, “Fine,” you winced at his tone.

You took another bite of your cracker and finished chewing before speaking, “Still haven’t patched things up with Brian?”

Before Shawn left for the American leg of his tour, he and Brian got in a little argument.  It wasn’t anything major, just that Shawn didn’t want Brian throwing any parties at his place like the last time he went on tour.  Brian took more offense to it than intended, Shawn proceeded to get more passive aggressive with his comments, and neither of the boys wanted to break first and say sorry.

Shawn sighed and swirled the wine in his cup that he seemed to be mesmerized with, “No.”

The sun hit Shawn just right sitting under the tree.  Glimmers of light broke through the leaves that left scattered patterns on his skin.  He looked absolutely glowing with the illumination of sun on his jawline, but you knew he felt anything but glowing on the inside.

“Have you talked to Matt?” You questioned, “Maybe he could clue you in on how Brian’s feeling and then you can go from there.”

“I guess,” Shawn shrugged his shoulders as he took a cracker out of the sleeve.

You could tell he didn’t want to talk about the topic anymore, so you didn’t press further.  Instead you changed the subject, “No cheese? You’re in Italy––That’s blasphemous.”

Shawn’s mood shifted instantly as he let out a laugh.  He went to grab another cracker, and this time he sliced off a piece of cheese, “Happy?”

“Peachy keen,” you smiled at him with your eyes closed.  That earned you another laugh from Shawn.

You continued to mindlessly sip on your rosé, starting to feel the affect of the wine as you became more giggly and giddy.  Every sentence Shawn spoke seemed to be the funniest thing ever said, and every look he threw your way had you wishing you could lock it up in a memory box forever.  

You were pouring another glass when Shawn pushed himself off the blanket and looked up at the tree, “Can you eat these peaches?”

Pausing the pour, you scrunched your eyebrows together and thought for a moment, “I––I think so?”

Shawn shrugged his shoulders, “When in Italy,” he said dreamily.

You calculated every movement he made.  He didn’t have to stand on his tip toes at all as his he reached his define arm up to pluck a peach off the tree, his lightbulb tattoo peaking through under his sleeve.  With a swift snap of the twig, Shawn held the peach in his hand before throwing it up in the air once.  He caught it flawlessly and turned it around to examine it for bruises.

Once he was pleased with the peach he picked, he took a seat next to you on the blanket.  He sat so your shoulders were brushing against yours, “Wanna taste?”

You shook your head as you happily continued to sip on your wine, “I don’t think it’ll mix well with the rosé.”

“Don’t be such a priss,” Shawn rolled his eyes as he bit into the peach.  He concentrated on his jaw as he chewed.  Once he swallowed the part he bit off, he opened his mouth to show you that nothing was left.  You swatted his face away from yours as he laughed, “See! I had wine and it didn’t taste weird!”

You took the peach from his hand and took a small bite knowing that he would not let you hear the end of it if you didn’t try it.  Admittedly, it wasn’t terrible, but with how much wine you had drank, it wasn’t exactly pleasant.

You scrunched up your nose and placed the peach down on the blanket, “Nope,” you reached for your wine and took a sip, scrunching up your nose even more when you tasted more of how the wine mixed with the peach “Definitely no.”

Shawn’s eyes glowed with amusement as he stared at you through the top of his cup.  He took another sip, “You’re adorable.”

“That was anything but adorable.”

He reached over your lap and grabbed the bottle of rosé, gesturing if you wanted anymore.  You told him only a little, as you held your cup out for him to top off.  He finished pouring the rest of the bottle in his cup.

The two of you sat in silence sipping on your wine as you listened to the branches of the peach tree rustling against each other by the slight wind.  You rested your head on Shawn’s shoulder and he rested his head upon yours.  

With your eyes closed, you had never felt pure bliss before this moment.  You didn’t have anything challenging on your mind, nothing in the forefront of your mind screamed danger.  Your mind was at ease for the first time in a long time.

Your eyes momentarily opened when you felt Shawn shift his arm from leaning on the blanket, to wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer.  You felt his calloused palm rub up and down your arm sending a wave of tingles down through your whole body.  Even though you were positive you had no more room left between the two of you, you still scooched closer to him.  

Shawn tightened his arm around your shoulder as he placed a gentle kiss on your head, “I love you.”

A soft smile spread across your face as you looked up to see him taking a sip of his wine and admiring the Italian countryside with you tucked into his side.  You wrapped your arms around his torso and kissed the part of his collarbone that was peaking out, “I love you, too.”

You were content with everything in your life at the moment and you were sure Shawn reciprocated those feelings.  Because right now, sitting on the Italian countryside with no one bothering either of you, it felt like a taste of what your future together held.

Just two young adults in love sipping on rosé.

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 23: Tim

Sasha at least has the decency to call Saturday afternoon to say that her “appointment” ran late and she’s spending the night in her own flat, which is closer, but Tim’s a bit more upset about it than he really has any right to be. Martin and Jon seem to understand, though, or at least not to blame him, and he falls asleep tucked between them on the sofa. He wakes up Sunday morning a bit stiff and sore, but feeling safe and comforted for the first time in a while, and for the first time actually stays where he is rather than getting up immediately. Sunday night, when she still doesn’t come back, the three of them pile into Tim’s bed.

It makes him feel a little better come Monday morning, although he still doesn’t completely relax until Sasha stumbles in with her coffee and a box of pastries as a peace offering. He’s happier to see her safe than to see the box of doughnuts, but he’s not going to complain about those, either.

They spend the first few minutes of the day sharing Sasha’s doughnuts and telling her about the house they toured on Saturday. She’s politely enthusiastic, but in her eyes there’s a hint of don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask that makes something sink in Tim’s stomach. She’s not interested in sharing a house with the others, no matter how much space of her own she could have. She’s vague about what she was doing on Saturday, and Tim decides that pressing her isn’t going to be a good idea. As a result, at least in his opinion, Monday is a bit tense, especially compared to how things have been in the last two months. He’s a little bit anxious and agitated when she insists on going home after work again, so Martin makes grilled cheese sandwiches because they’re a childish comfort food of Tim’s. They end up sitting around the kitchen table going over their finances, and Tim forgets his worries about Sasha in favor of being horrified at how much of Martin’s paycheck is going to his mother’s care home bills, but the overall end result is that Tim makes an appointment for them to see a banker on Thursday.

Sasha is enthusiastic for them, even if she’s not planning to be a part of things, so the mood on Tuesday morning is high. Martin goes on the warpath against the cobwebs cluttering up the corners of the Archive shelves while Tim pours on the charm to try and wheedle records out of people who shouldn’t give them out and Sasha coaxes secrets out of the Internet. Jon shuts himself up in his office, presumably to do whatever digital recordings he can; the statements might not be genuine encounters, but since Elias doesn’t know they know what’s what, they have to keep up appearances, at least for now.

All that changes when Sasha’s desk phone rings.

“Archives, Sasha James speaking,” she says, her voice crisp and professional. A look crosses over her face that Tim can’t identify, but her voice never changes. “Of course. I’ll be right up.” She hangs up and looks over at Tim. “That was Manal at Reception. Someone’s here to make a statement.”

“And we can’t send them to Research because…?” Tim prompts.

“Don’t know why it doesn’t work that way, honestly, but one of you better let Jon know someone’s coming. I’m on escort duty.” Sasha closes her laptop and heads for the steps, coming back briefly to retrieve her shoes.

Tim sighs and goes over to Jon’s office, since Martin is still back in the stacks, so to speak. They’ve all grown comfortable enough with one another, especially in the last two months, that Tim doesn’t bother knocking; anyway, digital statements are easy to edit, or even re-record, if the sound quality isn’t the best. He just pushes open the door and sticks his head in. “Hey, boss, just a—” he begins, then stops. Dread rushes through him.

The office is empty.

“Jon?” Tim calls, just to confirm Jon isn’t ducking under his desk for some reason. He already knows it’s useless, though. The pile of statements next to his desk are neatly arranged and closed, his laptop is shut, and most importantly, his mug of tea isn’t sitting on the end of the desk.

Tim uses a string of words that his nonno wasn’t supposed to use in front of the children and ducks out of the office, trying not to panic. He knows it’s ridiculous. Nothing’s stalking them at the moment, there’s no imminent danger. There’s no reason to worry. Jon’s probably fine. He’s probably getting a cup of tea from the break room.

Except that they have a tea station in the Archives now, so he doesn’t need to go that far. And Tim’s noticed that Jon never seems to finish his tea unless Martin makes it, which he probably wouldn’t have spotted if not for the fact that he’s kind of the same way. And Jon’s usually good about telling them when he’s ducking out.

“Martin!” Tim calls, pulling the door shut and trying to keep the hysterical edge out of his voice. “Have you seen Jon?”

Martin pops around the edge of a shelf, a slight frown on his face. “Isn’t he still down in the tunnels?”

“The tunnels?” Tim feels his heart begin to slow down, and he wonders if the doorknob is going to be strong enough to keep him upright when his knees buckle. “I didn’t know he went down there.”

“Yeah, about…” Martin twists his wrist and peers at the inside of it. He’s the only person Tim knows under the age of thirty who still wears a wristwatch. “Forty-five minutes ago, maybe? Did you not notice?”

“I was…probably on the phone with someone,” Tim admits, feeling embarrassed. “God. But he did let you know?”

“Not sure he would have if I hadn’t caught him,” Martin says, a hint of disapproval in his tone. “He promised he wouldn’t be long, though.”

“Well, it’s time to come up. Someone’s coming to give a statement,” Tim tells him. “You want to go fetch him? I don’t think there’s much service down there.”

Martin hesitates, then, to Tim’s surprise, shakes his head. “You go get him. I’ll…is Sasha fetching whoever’s got the statement?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’ll stick around. Make tea. It’ll probably help. You go get Jon.” Martin catches Tim’s raised eyebrow and smiles slightly. “I know what panic looks like, Tim. You’re not going to relax until you’re sure he’s okay. Am I right?”

Tim manages a smile in reply. “You’re not wrong.”

“So go get him. I know where he is, more or less, so I’m not worrying. This time,” Martin adds. “I’ll try to keep things under control until you get Jon back.”

“You’re the best, Martin.” Tim kisses Martin on the cheek without thinking as he passes by. He realizes what he’s just done a second later and almost trips over his own feet, but then decides, at this point, he’s better off pretending that never happened and moving on with his life, so he heads over to the trapdoor without looking back and hopes Martin can’t see him blushing. Mentally, he runs through a few more of those words that would have Nonna applying a wooden spoon to his backside had he said them aloud.

At this point, they’ve all been down at least once, so Tim knows by now which room the Primes are staying in. He raps lightly on the door and calls, “Jon? It’s Tim. You in there?”

“Come in, Tim,” someone calls. Tim thinks it’s one of the Jons.

He pushes open the door and is relieved to see his—their—Jon talking to the Primes. Jon looks honestly confused as he glances down at his phone. “I swear I was watching the time,” he protests. “And I did tell Martin I was coming. I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

Tim decides not to pick that fight. “I believe you. Sorry to cut this short, but someone’s here to make a statement.”

Jon’s shoulders slump. “God,” he says under his breath. “Did they say what it was about?”

“Dunno. Front desk called. Sasha went to fetch whoever it is and I said I’d give you a heads-up. Martin said he’d stall until I brought you back.”

Jon glances at the Primes. “I don’t suppose it’s a false alarm.”

“I don’t think I took a live statement I could record on the laptop after the first six months,” Jon Prime says apologetically. “It’s probably…Christ, what was the…? I swear I only had three live statements on tape before Jane Prentiss attacked. There was Naomi Hearn, then Melanie King, then…”

“That surgeon,” Martin Prime supplies. “The one whose students all had placeholder names.”

“Oh, God, yeah, the apple.” Jon Prime shakes his head. “It’s a Stranger statement.”

Jon sighs heavily and starts to stand. “I suppose I ought to take it,” he says reluctantly. “It’s a shame…never mind.”

“No, what?” Tim insists. “If there’s anything we can do to help…”

“Unfortunately, I’m not sure I’ll be able to justify all of you sitting in on the statement. The live ones are the worst, energy-wise. And I’d hoped to—” Jon meets Tim’s eyes, then looks away, obviously embarrassed.

Tim gets it. Even sleeping between Jon and Martin last night, he’s sure his nightmares were bad. They all know the only way for it to stop is for him to make the statement, and he wants to tell both of them about Danny. But if Jon takes a live statement today, it’ll probably be another week before he can take another, and that’s assuming nobody else comes in with a real one.

“If I may make a suggestion?”

Tim and Jon both turn to look at Jon Prime, who looks up at them with a curious expression. “I’m open to any,” Jon answers.

“If Sasha is escorting your statement-giver downstairs, that means it’s only the four of you down in the Archives,” Jon Prime says. “And as he’s never met you, he has no idea what to expect you to look like.”

“Are you suggesting—what are you suggesting?” Jon narrows his eyes at his counterpart.

Martin Prime pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes as if he has a headache. “He’s suggesting that he go up there with Tim and take the statement for you.”

Jon Prime gestures at Martin Prime grandly. Tim and Jon exchange looks. It’s not actually a bad idea. It’ll keep Jon from sinking any deeper than he already has, at least not yet, and he still doesn’t want that much power. And as Jon Prime said, nobody other than the four of them will know Jon Prime isn’t Jon…as long as Elias doesn’t come down.

“That…could work,” Jon says cautiously. He glances at Tim. “You’ll let the others know why we’re doing this?”

Tim nods. “’Course. And if it’s fake after all, Jon Prime can eat him.”

“I don’t eat people. Only their fear.” Jon Prime kisses Martin Prime’s cheek, the same way Tim accidentally did Martin, which he tries very hard not to think about. “I’ll be back. Half an hour, tops.”

“Be careful.” Martin Prime squeezes his hand, but lets him go. Jon offers Tim a weak smile and sits back down as well.

Tim leads Jon Prime out of the room and into the corridors. As they reach the foot of the steps, Jon Prime says casually, “Care to tell me why you’re blushing, Tim?”

“No,” Tim answers promptly. “No, I would not.”

Jon Prime’s chuckle follows Tim up the steps. He pointedly ignores it.

Martin’s good at this. He and Sasha have positioned their guest—a tall, austere man in a tweed jacket with patches at the elbows and a thick head of salt-and-pepper hair—with his back to the trap door. He’s cradling a steaming cup of tea and listening to Martin explain something. Martin’s eyes drift over the man’s shoulder, not enough to be obvious, and meet Tim’s. Tim flashes an OK sign and stands aside to let Jon Prime out, then carefully closes the trapdoor behind him.

Jon Prime takes a moment to collect himself, like an actor preparing to go onstage. His head goes up, his shoulders go back, and a cold, professional veneer drops over his face. In an instant, he’s put on the persona Jon wore up until Jane Prentiss attacked, and now only trots out for special occasions, like Elias dropping by to “make sure things are going well”. Tim hasn’t seen it in weeks, and he’s never seen it on Jon Prime. It’s somehow even more impressive and intimidating, between the hair, the scars, and the fact that Jon Prime is usually so expressive. He’s looked amused, fond, exasperated, tender, panicked, and utterly besotted, but never blank and stern. There’s just the faintest hint of annoyance in his expression, and Tim finds himself bracing to apologize to the older man who’s about to have to face Jonathan “This is a complete waste of time” Sims.

“May I help you?” Jon Prime says as he strides over, every word crisp and distinct, holding himself like a respectable academic and not an eldritch horror from outside of time and space piloting a battered meat suit.

The man turns around and starts slightly at the sight of Jon Prime, but rallies and offers him a wary nod and a smile. “I certainly hope so. Are you the Head Archivist?”

“Jonathan Sims.” Jon Prime extends his hand. “And you are…?”

“Dr. Lionel Elliott. I’m a professor at Kings College, London.” Dr. Elliott accepts Jon Prime’s hand and shakes it. An odd look comes over his face. “That’s a rather nasty scar. Surprised it didn’t do more damage to your hand.”

“It’s a rather old injury at this point, and I’ve had extensive physical therapy,” Jon Prime says curtly. “I appreciate your concern, however. What may I help you with?”

“Ah.” Dr. Elliott takes a breath. “I was hoping to…make a statement. I had a…deeply unpleasant experience with a class over this last term, and…I hear this institution makes a collection of such things? I—I was hoping you could tell me…that you could help me with it.”

“I see,” Jon Prime says, as if this is news to him. “Well, we’ll certainly see what we can do. If you’ll step into my office?”

He escorts Dr. Elliott to Jon’s office. The second the door closes behind them, the other two turn to look at Tim, Sasha’s eyes curious and Martin’s worried and pleading. Tim holds up his hands to stave off Martin’s concern. In a low voice, he says, “Jon’s fine. We just thought…doing it this way might mean Jon doesn’t have to start sinking so deep. And, well, it’s one less nightmare for him.”

Martin exhales heavily. The worry doesn’t really disappear from his eyes, but it at least shifts its focus, Tim guesses. He can understand that. They’ve all slept in proximity to one another enough to know that Jon’s nightmares are bad and Tim’s aren’t much better. If Martin has nightmares, they’re silent, which isn’t necessarily a point in their favor.

Sasha heads back to her desk. “So this is a real one, is it?”

“Apparently. Jon Prime thinks it’s the Stranger. Not the doctor,” Tim adds quickly as all the color drains out of Martin’s face and he turns towards the office. “Whoever he came in contact with. We’re safe enough. I think.”

Martin inhales, holds the breath for a few seconds, and then lets it out in a slow hiss. “I’m going to go finish digging out those statements. Maybe we can get started on dividing up the work while…he handles that.” He stalks back into the shelves. Tim watches him go, then sighs and thumps into his seat.

A minute or two later, Martin comes back with a stack of files and drops them on his desk. Tim reaches over and snags about half of them and scans the labels. Now that he’s familiar with Gertrude’s numbering system, such as it is, he can see that all but one of the files he’s grabbed are from within the last ten years or so. The other…

“Jesus, is this from the 1800s?” Tim opens the file. It contains nothing except a letter on old, yellowed paper, scorched in places and written in very shaky handwriting that fades in and out. The date at the top is clearly legible, however: November 10, 1845. “1845. Anything important happen that year?”

Martin shrugs. “I mean…depends on what you consider important?”

“Well, what do you know happened that year?” Tim almost asks what do you consider important, but he doesn’t want to diminish anything Martin might know.

“Edgar Allen Poe published The Raven. Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning met, and she started writing her Sonnets from the Portuguese. The Yarmouth suspension bridge collapsed and killed eighty people, mostly children. First year of the Great Famine in Ireland. And I think it was the year the rubber band was invented, or at least patented, but you’d have to ask Jon about that.”

“He’d know.” Tim carefully picks up the first page. “Let’s see what our spooky correspondent has to say.”

He’s quickly absorbed in the story. Despite the faded and patchy ink, it’s surprisingly easy to read, once he gets into it, and the woman’s tale grips him in a way he can’t explain. Absently, he picks up a pen and slides over a notebook to begin jotting down notes to follow up on, inasmuch as he can follow up on something almost older than the Institute itself. It’s a challenge, and Tim likes a challenge.

“Christ,” he says on a sigh, setting down the last page of the letter at last. “That’s a weird one. Gonna be fun to follow up on. Whatcha got there, Marto?”

“Ah, it’s a statement regarding a—deep-dive, somewhere in Canada. Looks like a lot.” Martin angles the page towards Tim. “And look who’s involved.”

“Simon Fairchild,” Tim reads. “Didn’t…they mention him being related to one of the entities?”

“The Vast. I never thought about the deep sea being part of that, but…makes sense.” Martin checks the list he made. “Few names to follow up on. What about you? What’ve you got?”

“Cannibalism on the Oregon Trail. I thought it might’ve been the Stranger at first, but now it’s pretty obviously the Flesh.” Tim looks over at Sasha, who’s typing away on her computer. “Might need you to get on some of this, Sash.”

“One of these days I will get used to the two of you discussing these…things like you’re talking about what you watched on television over the weekend,” Sasha says without looking up. “Today is not that day.”

Martin winces. “Sorry.”

Sasha waves him off and holds out a hand. “Give me the names. Both of you. I can at least get started on that while you two dissect more statements.”

Tim rips off the top page of his notebook. Martin hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. Everything else I had for today is done.”

Martin shrugs and hands her his notes, then grabs the next file and flips it open.

They’re both about halfway through their second files when the door to Jon’s office opens. Tim looks up and for a minute is genuinely startled to see the scars dotting Jon’s face and hands, until his brain catches up with the fact that it’s Jon Prime. His eyes scan the group for a moment as he emerges behind their guest. “Sasha, can you escort Dr. Elliott out of the Archives, please?”

“Oh, no need, it’s a straight shot, after all.” Dr. Elliot balls something up in his hand. “Thank you for your time. Do let me know what you find.”

“Of course,” Jon Prime assures him, a bit stiffly.

They all watch Dr. Elliott stride up the stairs. Tim mentally counts off the number of steps to the main floor of the Institute, and once he’s sure Dr. Elliott is out, he turns to Jon Prime. “Was it real?”

“Oh, yes, it’s exactly the statement I thought it was,” Jon Prime says, a bit absently. “There won’t be much follow-up you can do, honestly. The names of all the students were basically the official placeholder names in several countries. They’re definitely creatures of the Stranger, anyway. You can speak to Elena Bower in the Kings College administration office if you’d like to confirm that the class actually happened, just for the form of things, but beyond that, a dead end.”

“Good, maybe Jon’ll let us focus on these,” Tim grunts, looking down at the paper in front of him. I also started to notice, on some of the pages, a faint scorching around the edges, though it would be some time before my own attempts to burn it proved how resilient it really was. “I know how much he loves anything involving Leitners.”

“You’ve got one, too?” Martin looks up from what he’s reading. “I’m assuming this is a Leitner in this one. Haven’t finished yet, but it’s definitely a book, and he—he mentions a library sticker that’s mostly missing.”

“Nobody’s said anything about a library sticker in this one, but it’s a creepy book full of eerily detailed stories of dead people, so I’m assuming,” Tim drawls.

Jon Prime peers over Tim’s shoulder. “Yes and no. Leitner really didn’t have…he was simply a librarian, of sorts. A—a collector. Not every book involving one of the Powers passed through his hands. I don’t believe that particular book was one of them.”

Tim looks up at Jon Prime. “The End?”

“I believe so, yes…Martin, which one do you have?”

“Um, Tales of a Field Hospital. I thought it was the End at first, but the things he talks about these soldiers dying of…it reads more like the Corruption to me.”

Jon Prime looks pleased, like he’s just received an answer from a prize student. “John Amherst. I remember that one. I think it was the third time I’d come across the name at that point.”

“It’s a new one by me,” Martin says, then pauses. “Wait, no—that nursing home we’ve been looking into, Ivy Meadows. Wasn’t John Amherst the man who took it over?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Sasha says, still absorbed in her computer. “Can’t find much about him, though, which probably should have been my first clue. The harder these people are to pin down, the closer they are to the entities, seems like.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” Jon Prime tells her. “The entities protect their own, and the longer-lived ones are quite good at covering their traces, for the most part.”

Tim snorts. “I would be, too, if I knew the Ring-Maker was going to scrutinize every possible reference someone else made to me and try and track me down.”

Martin points his pen at Tim, his face almost comically stern. “If you start calling this place Barad-dûr, I will dump you in a volcano myself.”

“You even got the accent right,” Tim says, unaccountably pleased.

“Nerds. You are both nerds,” Sasha announces, as if this is a great revelation and not the culmination of several years’ worth of observation.

Jon Prime shakes his head as if in exasperation, but he’s dropped the Head Archivist mask and he looks amused. “Right, well, that ought to keep me going for a bit. I’ll head back and send out—”

“’Scuse us.”

The voice startles Tim, and he looks up sharply to see two men standing in the Archives. He has no idea where they came from, or how they got into the Archives without any of them noticing, since they’re both big men. They’re dressed like typical delivery men, but there’s something about them that makes Tim’s blood run cold. One of them is carrying a clipboard. The other is carrying a package.

“Looking for the Archivist,” says the one holding the package. He has a Cockney accent, but it sounds a bit fake, like someone who’s watched Mary Poppins six hundred times and thinks Dick Van Dyke is actually British.

“I’m sorry, are you two meant—” Martin begins, standing up, which Tim thinks is rather brave of him. He stands, too, instinctively wanting to protect Martin and Sasha but not quite sure how he’s going to, especially since Martin seems to be trying to protect him.

“Won’t take up your time,” says the man with the clipboard.

“Just got a delivery,” adds the man with the package.

“Right, but you shouldn’t—” Martin tries.

“Package for Jonathan Sims.”

“Says right here.”

They toss the words back and forth, not exactly finishing each other’s sentences but definitely sounding as though they’re one person divided in two. It’s a bit dizzying and a lot disconcerting and Tim is unaccountably scared.

“I am the Archivist,” Jon Prime says. His voice is low and dangerous as he steps forward and physically puts himself between the two delivery men and the three assistants. It shouldn’t be intimidating, considering he’s literally the smallest person in the room, but he radiates an aura of power and subtle menace. For the first time, Tim truly understands what the Primes have been talking about…and what their Jon is afraid of becoming.

“Sign here,” the man with the clipboard says, thrusting it towards him.

“For the package,” the man with the package clarifies.

“Something else upstairs for you.”

“Lady at the desk signed for it.”

“You don’t need my signature,” Jon Prime says, and holds out his hand for the package.

“Sure we do.”

“That’s protocol.”

“Really,” Jon Prime says, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. “You thrive on anonymity and you won’t respect the desires of others to remain that way?” Static crackles in the air, and Tim finds himself taking a half-step closer to Martin, who reaches out and presses a hand flat against his back as if in comfort or support. “I Know who you are. I Know who you work for. I See you.”

The static rises in pitch, almost as bad as when Jon Prime tried to look into the Eye back in Tim’s living room. Tim winces and shrinks against Martin, grabbing for him without conscious thought. Martin grabs him back, evidently gritting his teeth against the pain. The two delivery men look upset, uncomfortable—scared. Tim almost sympathizes with them.

“What’re you doing?” asks one.

“Stop it,” the other orders, or tries to.

“Leave the package and go,” Jon Prime orders, and his voice has an almost hollow echo to it. “And leave them alone.”

The one with the package practically throws it at him. Jon Prime lets it fall to the ground at his feet and stares at the two men as they practically stumble over one another trying to get to the steps.

After a moment, the static vanishes as abruptly as it began, and Jon Prime’s shoulders slump as he takes a deep, shuddering breath. Tim realizes he’s clutching Martin like a drowning man, but he’s not particularly inclined to let go.

“You know, those statements won’t sustain you for long if you immediately expend all the energy you obtain from them,” Sasha observes. Tim blinks at her in astonishment. He has no clue how she can be so…calm after that, but there’s an intensity to her gaze and a brightness to her face that he doesn’t think was there before. “Who was that?”

“Breekon and Hope,” Jon Prime says softly. He bends down to pick up the package.

Martin eases up his death grip on Tim’s shirt, but doesn’t let go completely. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice wavering.

Tim’s not sure who he’s actually addressing, but Jon Prime answers. “I’m fine. I only scared them a bit. Put the fear of the Eye in them, I suppose, not that that’s entirely difficult.” He turns around and studies Tim and Martin, and his face softens. “Are you all right?”

“I-I think so.” Martin sounds uncertain. “Tim, are you…?”

“I don’t know,” Tim lies. He does know. He’s definitely not all right. He’s shaken to his core and he’s not sure if it’s from Jon Prime’s display of power or from the presence of the two delivery men or from Sasha being so into it or some combination of the three.

Martin tries to help Tim sit down, but Tim clings to him. He doesn’t really have it in himself to be embarrassed by it, either. Martin, thank God, doesn’t force the issue, just shifts his arms to comfort him a little better, even though Martin probably needs the comfort, too.

Jon Prime reaches out like he wants to put his hand on Tim’s shoulder, but stops just before he makes contact and draws back. Quietly, he says, “I’ll send your Jon up. I—I am sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine,” Tim says, and means it. He’s not afraid of Jon Prime, not really. What he can do, possibly, but not of him.

Jon Prime does touch his shoulder lightly, then Martin’s, before disappearing in the direction of the trapdoor. Tim closes his eyes and tries to focus on Martin murmuring soothing nonsense at him in the hopes that it will actually soothe him.

“Tim? Tim! Oh, God.” It’s Jon’s voice and suddenly Jon is there, awkwardly hugging Tim from behind. “Jon Prime told me—a-are you all right?”

“Getting there,” Tim mumbles. He frees one hand and grips the nearest one of Jon’s—it’s cold as ice, he’s got terrible circulation—and tucks his chin onto Martin’s shoulder.

The three of them stand like that for a few minutes, until Tim stops shaking and he feels his breathing even out. He takes a deep breath and slowly eases his grip on Martin and on Jon’s hand; obviously understanding, the other two let go of him, but they don’t go far.

“Better?” Martin asks gently.

Tim nods. “Thank you,” he says, his voice a bit hoarse, as he looks from Martin to Jon. He catches Sasha’s eye, from where she still sits behind her computer; she gives him a slightly guilty look, and he tries to smile to let her know he doesn’t judge her. He’s not sure he pulls it off.

Jon takes a half-step back and bunches the cuffs of his cardigan up in his hands—it may be July, but the climate control system in the Archives maintains a steady temperature to preserve the more delicate documents and it’s usually kind of chilly down here, so they’re definitely used to wearing sweaters or jackets year-round by now. “What happened? All Jon Prime said was that ‘the delivery came’ and he thought you might—” He breaks off, his eyes flicking back and forth between Martin and Tim, with a side trip to Sasha.

“Right after Dr. Elliott left, a couple of delivery men showed up,” Sasha tells him. She pushes something on the edge of her desk towards Jon, and it takes Tim a second to realize it’s the package the men threw at Jon Prime. “They delivered that, and also something upstairs that I think they had either Rosie or Manal sign for, probably Rosie. It’s addressed to you, anyway. Jon Prime stared them down and drew a bit on the Eye’s power to tell them to go away. I mean, they were a bit creepy, but they didn’t seem that bad. He said they were Breekon and Hope.”

“Bree—? Oh, God, the table,” Jon says softly, his eyes going wide. “It must have been the table. They said—oh, God.”

Sasha holds up a finger and pushes away from her desk. Tim watches her go, then turns to Jon with a little bit of trepidation. “What’s in that one?”

Jon opens the box gingerly, as if it might contain a bomb. What he pulls out, however, is an old lighter. It’s gold, or at least Tim thinks it’s gold for a second before he realizes it’s probably actually brass, and there’s a design on the front that looks like it might be a spiderweb. Jon holds it gingerly, like it might be going to attack him, which makes sense; the Web probably terrifies him as much as the Stranger scares Tim, and for a similar reason.

Martin’s face goes almost paper-white beneath his freckles. “That’s the—Martin Prime gave me that same lighter to set the fire when Jane Prentiss got in. Christ.”

Jon’s fingers curl lightly around the lighter, and he takes a deep breath, then slips it into his pocket just as Sasha returns with two folders. She waves the one in her left hand in Jon’s direction. “Leanne Denikin’s file, containing crime scene reports for both Joshua Drury and Henry Winchester.” She waves the right one. “Amy Patel’s statement, complete with description of the table. Do you want to run these up to Artifact Storage or do you want me to?”

“I—I probably ought to. It might carry more…emphasis coming from me, and after all, the table was addressed to me. In theory.” Jon takes the folders and frowns at the spines. “What’s this?”

“Oh, um, actually, I did that,” Martin says. “I’m starting to, anyway. I—I found all these colored labels in one of the filing cabinets last year, and, well, we weren’t using them so I just left them, but after—after everything, I just, well, I thought it might help us a bit if we could look at the files we’ve already done and know right away if they’re real or not and what they deal with, so I’ve been sort of trying to color-code them. There are only ten different colors, but I’m just combining for the higher numbers.” Jon actually smiles, for the first time since coming up from the tunnels. “That’s brilliant. Would you write out what your system is so we all know to start using it? I’ll—I’ll be right back.” His smile fades a little bit as he looks at Tim. “Are you all right now?”

“As all right as I will be, I guess.” Tim summons up a smile. “Thanks, boss.”

Jon pats his arm, a little awkwardly, then turns and heads for the steps. They all watch him go for a minute, then Sasha turns to Martin. “Right, explain this system of yours.”

It’s at once simple and ingenious, a basic combination of numbers and colors that nevertheless paints a vivid picture. Martin even designated the zero alone for those statements that are demonstrably false. It does mean they’re going to need a lot of zeroes, but Martin’s right, it will help a lot. And it’s not like they have to publicize what those labels mean. On those rare occasions that researching students need the files, they can just say it’s an internal filing system and leave it at that. Once Martin’s explained it, Sasha offers to start putting labels on those files they’ve already researched and recorded while Martin and Tim go back to sorting through the files Martin Prime evidently gathered for them.

Jon returns with the two files under his arm, looking a bit peaked, and Martin immediately sets aside the file and gets up to make tea. Tim offers him a crooked grin, which he actually returns, then turns to Jon. “All right?”

“I don’t know.” Jon sits on the edge of Tim’s desk and sets the files down carefully, out of the way of Tim’s work. “Elias turned up while I was trying to convince Dr. Bradley I wasn’t playing around. He agreed with me that the table was dangerous, but suggested it ought to be destroyed. I—I don’t know if I made much sense when I said I wanted to be sure it could be done safely. I hope I didn’t let on that I know more than I ought to.”

Tim doesn’t want to say it, but he feels like he has to. “If he can read minds…”

“I know. I’m almost positive that’s why he came in when he did. Dr. Bradley did at least promise not to have any of his practical researchers touch the table.” Jon sighs heavily, then accepts the cup of tea from Martin with a quiet thanks and a smile. “What are you two working on?”

“Martin dug out the files Martin Prime gathered for us,” Tim informs him. He turns to Martin in surprise when Martin hands him his own cup of tea, then takes it and lets the warmth soak into his palms. “We’ve been reading through them and trying to get an idea of what we’re dealing with. Sasha started running down some of the names we came up with, but right now we’re just…skimming, I guess.”

“What have you found so far?” Jon asks, sounding both interested and cautious.

“We’ve gone through two each and just started our third,” Martin says. “One Vast, one Flesh, one End, one Corruption. And then…these two.” He gestures at the file in front of him and the one open on Tim’s desk. “I’m…actually still not completely sure about this one. She’s talking about insomnia, and it does seem…odd? But I can’t figure out which one it falls under. Not yet. I’m only just getting into it, though…what’s yours, Tim?”

“Actually, I don’t know either.” Tim frowns at the statement he’s been reading. “I think this one might be a dud. I mean—he’s blind, and he’s not…he said it was just what he felt was real. He could be wrong, right? This looks like an old soldier playing a prank. It’s going on about the devil being part of the British army, and I’m pretty sure that’s an Irish folk song, but—” He turns the page and blinks. “Hang on, this isn’t—this is a different handwriting. What the…?” He skims the second page quickly, then his eyes widen as it hits him. “Christ, I think this is more from Trevor Herbert.”

“The vampire hunter?” Martin asks, startled, setting aside his papers and coming to look over Tim’s shoulder. “I could’ve sworn he—I-I mean, I never met him or anything, but I thought they said he lay down and never woke up.”

“Maybe they only meant he should never have woken up,” Jon says, peering over Tim’s other shoulder. “Or—well, it’s dated the same day as the earlier statement, look. Maybe he just lay down later than you thought he did.”

“Maybe.” Martin sounds vaguely distressed.

Tim squeezes his hand. “It’s okay. You know we don’t expect you to know everything about what goes on at the Institute, right? I mean, there are like two hundred people working here. Even after ten years, you can’t know them all.”

Martin manages a smile in reply. Jon nods and reaches for the papers. “Here, I’ll—do you mind if I take those? Since they don’t go in this folder, after all.”

Tim hands the pages over. “I really do think the rest of this is fake, though. Probably got mis-filed. I no longer doubt Martin Prime’s statement senses, but I’m guessing that those pages there were what he sensed in this file.”

“You’re probably right. Set that one aside for now.”

Tim closes the remains of the file and grabs another. He opens it, glances at the first page, sees the words urban exploration, and can’t help the sudden, sharp intake of breath. He waves off his friends’ concern, though. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ve got this.” For now, anyway, he thinks but doesn’t say.

Maybe he doesn’t have to. They all go back to what they’re doing, but Jon stays out with the rest of them until it’s time for them to start lunch breaks. And they don’t let Tim go anywhere alone for the rest of the day.

He’s more grateful for that than he would have thought.

[currentfandomkick]

Marientte Meeting Uncle Victor Zsasz

Heads up, from my maribat bio! Dad Strange AU.

One sidenote, in this Gina is from the side of the Gotham Falcone crime family that didnt leave for america. They were also mafia, just, vanished one day. Zsasz is smart enough to do his research and puts a few things together, realizes his goddaughter is even more interesting and calls her the surviving falcone despite no blood relationship with her and Gina.

Marinette was little when a bald man walked over to her wide a wide grin like Jerome’s, not Jerimah’s.

“So you’re the littlest surviving Falcone?”

Marinette screwed her face up in confusion. She didnt know any falcone.

“Your nonna on Papa’s side claimed you.”

Marinette nodded at that. Nonna was from Italy like her Nonno, and they both fought stronzos (idiots) and they ran away together when her family was ‘too much’. They traveled for a long before settling in Paris when Nonna was going to have Papa.

“That’s ‘cause she’s my Nonna and im her fatina.”

Zsasz nodded sagely before lifting little Marinette up.

“And you seem to be freinds with a lot of people in Arkham.”

“That’s cause Father works there an’ the clin-ik.”

Zsasz nodded, looking at the area he found her in. Rooftops in the narrows. He’d already finished his job for the day, and its not like he’d see the last Falcone for a while if he didnt take advantage now.

“Im guessing you were helping on of your friends get home?” (Penguin)

“He had to see his husband but its his friend’s day, so he had to go back but he’s no good at stealth.”

Zsasz hummed, kneeling down now. “I think its time i teach you a few things about handling the bad people in arkham.”

Marinette screwed up her face again. “Like the hat guy? I really dont like him.” Marientte shuffled back at that. “Jerome was put in his room when he stabbed him for trying to get too close to me when he didnt listen the first time.”

Zsasz almost twitched at that, adding the mad hatter to his list of future kills.

“Well, an easy way to get people to listen is to show them that while you can take them down, youre choosing not to. Sometimes when someone is causing a lot of problems, i pay them a visit when they arent there, make myself something and if someone ruins the surprise, i put them to sleep. When they come home they know what i can do, and that what i dont do is by choice.”

Marinette nodded thoughtfully. “So a conditional threat with proof?”

Zsasz grinned at her, grabbing the girl to carry. “Very good.”

Marinette leaned against him as he carried her. She was getting tired.

“Arkham or Clinic?”

“What time is it?”

“Past you bedtime id imagine.”

Marinette hummed.

“Arkham please uncle Victor.”

Zsasz paused. “You already know my name?”

Marinette lazily nodded against him. “On the list the officer that hates uncle ozzy gave me of people to look out for.”

“Are you going to tell him you saw me?”

Marinette frowned at that. “He didnt ask me to tell me, so why would i?”

Zsasz smiled at that. “Good. He’s a mean officer that doesnt get that people like me keep the city from falling in on itself.”

“You hurt people that hurt the... the wall people.”

“Wall people, thats a new one.” Zsasz had a feeling the professor had something to do with that.

“Father says people see walls or doors. Walls are stops and doors are maybes and possibilies. Wall people make the stops and keeps the door people like daddy from hurting people when they dont remember better.” Marinette frowned for a moment. “I think i’m a door person like Father but Maman wants me to be wall person since door people are dangerous...You’re a wall fixer. Can i be one too? Theyre not forgetful and i want to be like that.”

Zsasz grinned. “I like you. Maybe ill keep you.”

“Maman’ll come back then.” Marinette shuffled closer to Zsasz then, like she was settling in for a nap. “She doesnt like gotham, says it has too much bad in it.”

“Your mom sounds very smart.”

“She is. She’s a too many walls person though.”

“Oh?”

“She wants me to stay away from science-y things and says im not ah, ah loud?” She frowned at the word. “Allowed.” She nodded, glad she found her word. “to help people with brain things or make machines and stuff.”

Zsasz puased as he carried her. “That’s not fair.”

Marinette shrugged against him “Maman said death’s job is to be fair, life’s is to test you. Tests dont have to be fair or easy. That’s why she left gotham i think. But i like tests so its okay.”

Zsasz was.. worried about that but he’d give his concerns to the professor later. For now, he had a small goddaughter that needed to go home, and had a training regime to plot for her. Probably would tlak to Jerome since he seems to be her bodygaurd now.

Hope you enjoyed Zsasz meeting baby Marinette. Will get to training sometime soon and more au parts Sometime soon.

[nicos-oc-hell]

Biggest regret?, for Dimitri

Ooh oh that’s hard! There’s too many to choose from especially with the line of work he works in (Mafia)

Warning: There’s going to be mention of child death, kidnapping and trafficking

Dimitri was on a mission one time where he had to stop an old mafia that had been defeated before multiple times but came back like…40 years later

This mafia kidnaps children and buys children off of struggling people who need the money. They experiment on these children giving them super like powers, in some cases that activates their flames

Dimitri has just finished getting all most all of the kids on to the jet so when he turned around to get the last kid he saw someone who he had left alive (on accident) holding the kid with a gun to their head

“Ok wolf, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, which one?”

“Let the kid go”

“Ok you chose the hard way! Now you have choice, you either give me back my only researcher that’s left or I’ll kill the boy”

“It’s a kid!”

“So I’m getting my researcher back or not? Because I’m not opposed to killing this useless boy anyway”

Dimitri grabbed the tied up woman and put a gun to her head “You kill the kid, I’ll kill her!”

The man rolled his eyes and killed the kid, Dimitri immediately killed the researcher and shot the guy who was holding the now dead body in his hand “I don’t take lightly to people harming children, let’s not hope you are reborn, because I will find you and I’ll kill you again” Dimitri killed the guy and took the kids body, put it in a body bag that he had on the jet and loaded it on the jet “Nonno is going to kill me”

[ask-monster-trio]

he called him a incuni does he know Gil and Franics are?

Day 1: 

With Nonno gone, I decided to patrol the town limits for any signs of unrest. Nothing so far. Woods have not been secured (NOT BECAUSE I’M SCARED FELI) 

Day 4: Talk around town about intruders in the night. Two girls reported missing by their families but returned in the morning with no recollection. Will try Scrying Bones tomorrow at dusk.

Day 5: 

Scrying bones a bust. At least one more monster on the loose. 

Week 1 Day 3: Full moon last night. Sheep and 1 cow reported missing from nearby farm. Found a strange man on the outskirts of the wood during patrol. Was Injured and had ripped clothes. Matches description of missing girls, and has strange bites on his neck. Victim???? Monster?? 

Week 1 Day 4: Strange man, henceforth known as Antonio, left with protection ward in morning. Thanked me profusely. Excessively. Does not understand personal space. 

Week 2 Day 1:  New hunter moved to town. Is NOT good, IGNORES protection wards, arrogant and stuck up asshole. DO NOT INTERACT.

Week 2 Day 2: Met Antonio in the market today. His protection ward was broken (suspect??? victim???). Accompanied by a stranger who introduced himself as Francis. Also does not respect personal space. Seems close (TOO CLOSE) to Antonio. Refused to eat the garlic bread I offered. Antonio seemed to want to stay with me but left when Francis called. VERY SUSPECT

Week 3 Day 1: Did research on Thralls (vampire servants). Antonio seems to match description. Unbelievably stupid, strange marks on neck and face, follows Francis like a puppy, his eyes are often glassy, seems to be reaching out to me for help. As the Town Savior, I will do whatever in my power to save an innocent man from the evils of the monsters.

Week 3 Day 2: Begun plans to break Antonio free from thrall. Invited by Antonio to alone time in woods. Accepted so that I may get him away from Francis and co, but THAT FUCKING HUNTER refused to let us past the barrier. Ludwig the asshole claimed it was TOO DANGEROUS, EVEN FOR ME, A HUNTER! Date ruined

Week 4 Day 3: Noticed Feliciano spending a lot of time with asshole hunter. Seems to be head over heels, ignored pretty girls at market. Is he under a spell??? Is this the incubus at work?

Week 4 Day 6: Followed doctor into the woods. Matthew has been acting strangely as of late and visits someone late at night. Did not find who however and got lost. Antonio, thankfully, lived nearby, and let me stay the night. Another man showed up that night too, claiming to be a “roomate” and “friend”. Gilbert sounds like Ludwig, tries to hit on me- and I spotted him with Matthew’s briefcase. Is he the incubus??? 

Week 4 Day 7: Was invited, again, on a date with Antonio. I accepted- but only to continue my research. No word from Nonno

Week 5 Day 3: Officially, maybe, dating Antonio. 

Week 6 Day 1: Strange puppy began following me home

[andsoshespins]

Snow Day Summary

At 6 PM yesterday evening, I received notice that NYC closed schools due to the overnight snowstorm we were experiencing.  I was inordinately relieved to hear such news. I fell asleep before 10 PM and then woke at about 7 AM this morning, thinking it was midday.  

First I shoveled my current home with my brother and neighbors.  Then I shoveled my new home alone which took about two full hours. 

Before moving on, I spoke to the painters and complimented the job they were doing on our interior walls (and mentally patted myself on the back for the colors my brother and I chose).

Next, I took a ride to my nonna’s house to check on the snow situation.  Thankfully, a neighbor had cleared their property earlier in the morning.  By that time, it was almost noon. Naturally, I stayed for some conversation and a chocolate.  (Because had I left without consuming something, I would never be forgiven.)

My nonna talked to me about obligations to attend a bridal shower two hours away, complained about my nonno after he had left for his daily dose of bocce, attacked my uncle for his diet that requires him to eat every two hours, and described the dress situation she is in for my cousin’s Sweet 16 party in a month’s time.  I do love spending time with her, and I understand that she is alone most of the day and my grandfather’s company is not always the best.  But, I will say that I was quite tired after that conversation.  Nevertheless, it was good to spend time in her warm and delicious-smelling kitchen.

Being wet from a combination of melting snow and sweat, I decided to do a kettlebell workout upon returning home from my shoveling duties.  It was great! 

Finally, I showered, ate, and drank tea.  I really do love tea.

I booked my flight for my friend’s wedding in New Orleans!!!  I am so relieved I finally committed and have the travel plans pretty much set.  The flight was a little pricier than I was hoping, but I have accepted the fact that I am particular about my air traveling needs, so there really was no other way.  :::insert shrug:::  I am so very much looking forward to celebrating love and then spending time in a new city after the wedding, too.  It is unlikely my boyfriend will be joining me due to school and work commitments at that time.  I am starting to think the solo trip will do me some good.  I’ve always said I wanted to travel alone again after my study abroad experience (six years ago now!).

While in the realm of travel, I also researched passport renewal.  This week I will make a few calls to schedule an appointment so that I will be ready to book my flight to Greece in the summer.  I am so looking forward to my celebration of 30 years on earth with my dear friends. 

I rearranged some clerical items relating to banking, health insurance, and bills; and for some reason, these menial tasks feel strangely rewarding.  Perhaps it’s the relief that stems from the absence of distant nagging in the back of your mind. 

My boyfriend called; and we talked about bubble tea, sumo wrestlers, food, and being tired from various tasks. I do miss him greatly during the week. 

I plan to spend the rest of the evening reading Educated by Tara Westover (and being horrified by the depictions of her childhood), drinking more tea, skimming some articles I have open in other tabs, and probably enjoying some soup.

I decided I will do no work today.  My mind has been clouded and overwhelmed in recent days, and I need to heed my own advice on self-care.  To do it.

[quickwitter]

WHAT’S YOUR HERITAGE? Where are your ancestors from? How far back do you know your family’s history?

My oldest sister has been doing our family genealogy for decades. She knows way more about it than I do. She’s the kind of researcher who goes in and fixes errors on family trees that are linked to ours. Ironically, I binge watch all the ancestry shows I can find. I find the stories of families fascinating.

My Dad’s family hails from a muddled central European background and came to the US in the 1700s? His family was into logging in the Pacific Northwest (a few of them in the photo below). My Dad grew up outside of Portland. His family was poor and he was the youngest of 8 kids.

Dad’s Family - He’s the little guy in the front, this would be the mid-1930s

My Mom’s family is Italian - ALL Italian, all of the time. I loved being a part of a big loud, loving, screaming, emotional family. But, I would have loved to see her 23 & Me results to see if she was 100% Italian. My Dad was the first non-Italian that married into her family. We spent a lot of time with my mom’s family and almost none with my Dad’s which was, in his generation anyway, much larger.

My grandfather’s family came to the US, and moved to Mississippi where they were farmers. My Grandfather Gino (Luigi) is at left below, the center is Frank and right is Chris. Not pictured is Joe the eldest. A few years after this photo was taken, their mom died, their father remarried and started another family.

The original boys, now out of favor, left Mississippi for California. They lived a few blocks apart from one another in the North Beach section of San Francisco for the remainder of their long lives. My “Nonno” died at 92, and his brothers in their later 90s. They survived a lot of change in their lives and did very well for themselves. Chris for example, shocked everyone when he left several million dollars to 42 relatives, with a very LARGE chunk being dubiously disposed of by his housekeeper, who was the executor of his estate. They weren’t your typical boring brothers, there was disowning, drinking, and arguing over pot that one ‘borrowed’ but didn’t pay for, and that kind of nonsense..all of the time.

In this hip 70s photo below, Right to Left: my Bisnonna (great grandmother - my mom’s side, the one who left Italy as a teen to get out of an arranged marriage)  is looking downright festive in a green plaid dress. She mostly wore black (7 years of mourning per death in the family). Next to her is my Grandma - my Mom’s Mom and one of the loveliest people I’ve ever known, her husband Nonno (pictured above L), oldest sister the grad, Dad in shadow, Mom, and Me with braces, terrible haircut and proving I’ve never been a fashionista.

Why our photos are never centered, I have no idea.