#otp: and the sun shone

[anghraine]

I love the imagery of Éowyn removing her helmet to reveal herself as a woman and her hair tumbling down.

And, obviously, I love the image of her hair mingling in the wind with Faramir's as they stand on the walls of Minas Tirith together.

But unless I'm misremembering, Tolkien had the idea at one point that Éowyn would cut her hair as part of her disguise, and I also love that image ... like, Éowyn in the starry mantle with her hair shorn about her shoulders and Faramir in Gondorian clothes with his long black hair streaming in the wind. A fantastic power duo look we might have had!

(I still do love the canon imagery, but...)

[anghraine]

I already replied with more serious thoughts but I was taking my last break from the dissertation to think about this again. It's interesting to consider that the Rohirrim's approval of Boromir is framed by them less as "Boromir was unlike a few very peculiar Gondorian Dúnedain" but as "Boromir was unlike his weird people in general, and instead cool and normal, like us."

Personally, I also feel that something is lost in the flattening of Númenóreans' weirdness specifically in the context of Rohan's norms around beauty, masculinity, maturity, prestige, even general demeanor. And that thing is Éowyn's specific tastes in men:

And she [Éowyn] now was suddenly aware of him [Aragorn]: tall heir of kings, wise with many winters, greycloaked, hiding a power that yet she felt.

And she looked at him [Faramir] and saw the grave tenderness in his eyes, and yet knew, for she was bred among men of war, that here was one whom no Rider of the Mark would outmatch in battle ... She guessed that this tall man [Faramir], both stern and gentle, might think her merely wayward, like a child

Tolkien may have intended for Elves and Númenóreans to just be objectively super hot in an absolute sense that Éowyn is responding to. But given how extremely peculiar the Dúnedain's physical markers of prestige and maturity and beauty etc are vs Rohan's, I feel like Éowyn could also be seen as a bit of a monsterfucker by Rohirrim standards. A sadly neglected angle of her characterization, alas :(

The weirdness of the Dúnedain is definitely downplayed in the fandom, but I really don’t think people get how strange Gondorian Dúnedain must seem to the Rohirrim.

There’s a spooky mountain on their border full of ghosts that are trapped there because a Gondorian king cursed them. In the war of the ring the Gondorians talk of their head of state being prematurely aged because his hair began to grey in his 60s. They put this down to him mind wrestling an evil demigod, and they’re right! Some of them can actually read minds, others can command horses with only thought. They’re very tall and have bright eyes that are sometimes described as glowing.

This is very weird! Their main ally is ruled by giants who age weirdly and look like elves with strange powers from a drowned continent.

[dunadaan]

So how did you end up shipping Aragorn and Créa? What's the story with them? I'm curious :)

This ask made me realize I hadn't actually talked about that before here?? At least, not in detail I think? I honest to god can't remember. But uh, it's a bit of a long story with a lot of explanation, as the ship is 8 years old and has had a lot of development!

Originally it came about as a ship between a friend who roleplayed Aragorn. We were joking around with some things, thought about it, and decided we liked it, and fleshed it out from there. After some time she no longer wrote him, so I took what we had come up with and built upon it and made it my own!

Of course, as we know, in canon Aragorn is rejected by Arwen (the first time, anyhow). By the time he meets Créa, he had balmed that wound and the infatuation with her had faded, and they had remained good friends instead.

When they first met, Aragorn is quite new to being a ranger- he's 23, and Créa is 20. Her home was in a small village in the Wilderland, and one night when the weather is particularly poor, he happens to be passing by and she offers him shelter; they get to know one another (as much as a Ranger would let someone get to know them :P), and when it comes time to leave, she refuses his payment- a kind gesture, and one he doesn't forget.

He comes back and stays a little longer each time and they talk a lot, and she asks lots of questions and is very curious. Eventually after a handful of months he reveals who he is and his heritage and she’s like okay! No idea who Isildur is but glad to know your name isn’t really Strider :)

Aragorn had a big crush on her first because she always asked him questions, was interested in him, and she always made him smile and reminded him that there were good things in the world, and good people. In turn, she found him really intriguing, somewhat mysterious, and noble, and he always seemed to know so much of the world she longed to see. He brought her things (pressed flowers, etc) from his travels as small gifts, as she had always longed to explore the greater world outside her small settlement.

Their “first kiss” was when, one night, she admitted to him when they were stargazing that she had never kissed anyone and it would probably stay that way, and he offered to be her first kiss just to say that she had one (toootally just to be noble, no other reason whatsoever....). She hesitated for a moment then agreed, and she was super shy and he had to guide her hands and they kissed. It basically blew her mind LOL and she was super flustered and joked that she’d have to practice more with him, then because she was worried she would ruin their friendship and also oblivious to his feelings (like Créa, he wouldn't offer if he didn't have feelings...) she was like “still friends?” and they agreed...but she couldn’t get that kiss out of her head and he couldn’t help but keep flirting with her. She absolutely caught feelings and It takes nearly a year of them to actually kiss again (bc Crea is OBLIVIOUS and was worried he wouldn’t be receptive) and officially become a couple.

Their time spent together was often domestic, and she loved to hear his stories of his people and history, of far off lands and ruins. For some reason, though, however faintly, it seemed familiar. She could never place why. There were some hints with Créa that not all was as it seemed- she had an innate ability to understand creatures, and was tall, dark haired, and she had pale eyes...all characteristics that pointed towards a certain heritage, unbeknownst to her.

This portion of her backstory I've never fully settled on, but Créa had lost her father, Baranhir, when she was about 10. He traveled very often and would leave but come back, often bringing her small tokens of the outside world to her and her mother, but said he helped protect traders traveling over the mountain pass- but she had never seen him come and go with any caravan; always by himself, and his stories seemed limited in what he could tell. Her uncle on her father's side would often stay with her, training her and helping out her and her mother when her father could not be there. But Baranhir was killed in an orc ambush on the other side of the Misty Mountains, and his body was never brought home, and no one could, or would, tell her why. (This is a different story, and will make this ask too long to go into here).

Her mother wants to leave the settlement in her grief, unable to stay in the house she and her husband built, but young Créa refuses- she doesn't think her father is actually dead, she never saw the body, and held out a deperate hope that he would one day return- none could convince her otherwise. From here, it's a toss up on how she's raised bc i've been rethining this portion of her bg- her mother might stay for a while and return back to her parent's village, her uncle might take over instead, etc. I've had Créa for 10 years and you'd think I'd have had it concrete by now!

During the events of The Hobbit, goblins and wargs come down from the Misty Mountains and attack villages and kill and take people back into their tunnels. One by one each village is plundered, and it's Créa's village that gets attacked next, nearly decimated. In the aftermath, in the husk of her stable, she finds a box hidden beneath broken floorboards, buried what seems long ago.

Inside is a seven pointed star brooch, old and weathered, a few of his things, and at the very bottom was a leatherbound journal. With that, she finally discovers the truth; that her father was a Dúnedain Ranger, which in turn made her Dúnedain as well.

The revelation, of course, is huge- much that did not make sense to her, the secretiveness of her father, the reluctance of her mother to ever tell her much of her and her father's heritage, now finally became clear. Her father wrote of all the lands he visited, what he did, how he had missed his family- and most shockingly of all, that he had been very good friends with Arathorn, and had even looked after toddler Aragorn from time to time, noting that "Arathorn's son and my daughter would've gotten along splendidly."

He was more than right, of course, but Créa had been robbed of the knowledge of her heritage, and she is shocked, to say the least. When Aragorn returns, they have a very, very long talk, and she shows him the journal. He investigates on her behalf, wanting to know if its true, but even just from reading Aragorn knows that it's true, and his research only confirms it. In the end, Créa is disillusioned, feeling that although her settlement had been saved, it was not saved for her, and wishes become a Ranger of the North, following in the footsteps of her father, as well as travel with Aragorn. She wants to defend people who can’t defend themselves, and he warns her of the lifestyle, but she’s determined, and not long after she says goodbye to her home and they travel together to the west.

And it’s a huge change to her life, and she struggles a lot. She discovers new lands and plants and people, she’s in an entirely new culture and lost heritage that she tries to navigate, feeling outcast and struggles with worthiness and trying to find where she belongs among them. She was robbed of being raised among her people, of knowing her father for who he was, as he had clearly wanted to tell her of their kin and their past. And there are probably some Dúnedain who don't want her there, even if her father was Dúnedain, so she fears not being good enough and has to work twice as hard, if not harder, to prove herself to both everyone and herself!

It's an interesting dichotomy between the two of them- Aragorn's past was hidden for reasons of safety, and for her, technically, it was the same- her mother did not wish for her to follow in her father's footsteps, and refused to have her heritage revealed until she came of age- and when her father died, in order to protect her, decided not to tell her at all. Créa feels desperately behind in everything, and feels overwhelmed and lonely. Even her name, from her mothers culture, makes her stand out more than she'd like.

Aragorn helps her navigate this, but a lot of it Créa does on her own- this'll grow into a long tangent so I'll try and steer back on course. They often travel together, him as her guide, and she also travels with others who help her gain the skills she lacks in order to become a Ranger. When Aragorn feels she is ready, she travels alone, and eventually becomes sworn in as a Ranger. There's a lot more to their story, but this is the beginning of it.

I think, personally, what makes this dynamic really interesting is that it's not quite fate. I'm always nervous to talk about the ship in the sense that I'm aware that it breaks a lot of canon! I'm aware of the parallels and the impact on the stories and the meanings and what is taken away by it.

But with that friend and later by myself, I've worked quite hard to make it canon compliant in a way that's not terribly jarring, and while I think Tolkien relies a lot on fated love and things just working out, I love the gnitty gritty human aspect of it all. Créa is no elf princess, and I think that's what makes it so interesting to explore a different dynamic. Also I love Arwen so it's not abt that either (I love her and Tauriel <3), it's just fascinating to explore other possibilities!

I don't think it's out of the realm of possibility for Aragorn to love a Dúnedain woman- his mother would be very pleased, as it's canon that she prefers Aragorn not marry an elf, and it would be a great relief to Elrond as well, for obvious reasons, and like I said before, I think Aragorn's infatuation would eventually fade. Their romance blooms in the spring of their youth, and through hardships and turmoil their relationship grows stronger, forged like steel. To be able to come from a similar heritage, to understand one's struggles as a Ranger, to know their duties come first but knowing that they can rely on one another. It's not fate, but hard work and determination. It's interesting to see them grow as characters, but also see their relationship mature and change- they're together when they're young and unhardened by the world, and spend 60 years together- having been through so much, but still by each other's side in the end.

They're both characters who exist outside of each other, who have their own stories and arcs, but they also have a lot of parallels and are interesting foils for one another- one example being Aragorn's heritage and knowing it, and the weight behind it- and Créa struggling with having next to no heritage- much of the information of her family has been lost, and leads to an interesting dichotomy- what weighs more? Knowing your heritage and the expectations of it, or potentially never knowing at all, having been lost forever? How does that effect one as a person and their view of themself?

There's a lot of hurdles they go through and it's so complex and fascinating for me. I could write a few more examples (their hurdles in trying to get married, their duties that keep them apart, the expectation of Aragorn being king and the post war future they struggle with) but this is already realllyyy long and I don't think anyone's read this far haha. But you're more than welcome to send in any asks if you want to know more <3 I appreciate the question and the chance to talk about them in depth! I really can't remember the last time I got to do so and this made me happy.

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2023 Day 1

Favorite character or OTP

I decided to do both, so here goes this sickeningly fluffy Skwistok drabble from Toki's POV, because he's my favorite and Skwistok is my OTP.

This is my first time participating in this event 🥳 I'll try to do as much days as I can 💪

Golden locks swaying with the wind, dressed in all white like an ethereal being, floating in the skies with a smile that shone like the sun, almost rendering Toki blind.

But, most importantly, the guitar. Playing melodies that had struck Toki’s heart like cupid’s arrow, eternally binding him to the man that seemed more God than mortal. 

And then, sapphire eyes bore into him and Toki could’ve sworn he had found his purpose, then and there. He found himself complete for the first time in his life, finally understood, finally seen. 

Toki smiled, an unfamiliar joy flooding through his body. Pumping like the blood in his veins, spreading through every muscle and reaching his fingertips, bestowing them with magic. 

He never wanted it to end. He wanted to stay there, forever.

With him.

“Toki!” Skwisgaar yelled, waking him from his reverie. “Ams you listkenings?” His guitar was, as ever, resting on his lap.

“Oh!” Toki nodded frantically, almost on instinct. “Yeah, really goods!”

Skwisgaar crossed his arms over his chest, a deep frown marking his features. “I asked if you doughts it was goods enough to be turnsked into a songs.” 

“Oh…” Toki repeated, this time deflated as he looked down with shame. “Sorries…I gots distracteds.”

“No shits.” Skwisgaar gave him a judgemental stare as he fiddled with his guitar some more. After a few seconds, he let go of the strings. “Eugh, guess I gots my answers.” He laid his back against the couch, glaring at the ceiling with resentment. “Dildos.”

“What?” Toki got up from his couch to sit on his legs next to Skwisgaar. “No ways, it ams reallies good!”

Skwisgaar didn’t move,  only side-eyed Toki with disbelief. “You excpeckts me to believes dat, when you couldn’ts even pays attenskions while I was playings it?” 

“Because it gots me thinking about stuffs!” Toki said. “Goods stuff!” When Skwisgaar didn’t seem convinced, he added. “It gots me thinking abouts…us.” 

“Heugh.” Skwisgaar snorted. “Whats?”

Toki smiled. “Ours first meetings.” He clasped one of Skwisgaar’s hands between his, delighting in the way his expression contorted with flusteredness. They were a thing but Skwisgaar still wasn’t used to the physical affection part. “You weres soes amazing…” His fingers laced with Skwisgaar’s softly. “I probablies fells in love with yous back den.”

“Eugh.” Skwisgaar grimaced, feigning disgust even when Toki could clearly see his flushed cheeks. “Toki, dat ams so gays.” Awkwardly, he started fiddling with the guitar again, his blonde hair hiding his face.

Toki pulled away and settled in to watch him go. Amused by the reaction, he thought about how far away the days where he thought Skwisgaar was this sort of untouchable God were. 

Not that any of it made Toki love him any less.

[janeyre]

call me on the way home (1/2)

otp: tentoo x rose

word count: 5k

summary: After a slight mishap at Torchwood, Rose has gone temporarily missing. While Mia is out, she runs into her mum, but not as she last saw her - instead wearing a blue leather jacket with deep circles beneath her eyes. Worried about her mum's state and trying to comfort her, Mia calls the Doctor so Rose can speak to him.

AO3

Really quite a bummer when your mum goes missing, even if it’s just for a Torchwood mission and it’s probably fine anyways. Wandering the streets of central London, Mia Tyler was hopeful it would all be resolved soon – her dad wasn’t one to let anything happen to the one and only Rose Tyler.

The corners of her mouth turned up at the thought. She had fifteen years of experience in just how protective her dad was over “his girls.”

Apparently they’d been dealing with some aliens, Ainchenns, who had what her dad liked to call a “transport gun” – a teleportation device turned weapon. Whoever wound up on the receiving end suddenly found themselves somewhere else entirely. The beam wasn’t very strong though, so at most, her mum had just been displaced to some other location on this little island they liked to call home. God forbid she ended up somewhere the likes of Aberdeen, though.

The very thought made her shiver, no matter the summer sun that shone in the sky.

Lost in her frigid northern thoughts, Mia was quite content to let her feet take her wherever they may. Truth be told, it almost stressed her out more to be with her dad when things like this happened. Living in the uncertainty of the situation right there along with him was a lot different than being somewhere else and trusting that it would all work out. Besides, he was probably sitting there just trying her mum’s mobile anyway.

No sooner had she rounded a corner and found herself in front of the Thames, that she found her mum as well.

The sensation of the void ate at Rose Tyler’s very being as if pulling her apart from every direction and then– it was over.

Christ, but she was still in London.

Upon immediate reflection, it wasn’t the right one either, as the TARDIS key she had carefully tucked beneath her shirt remained cold.

“Control, shift me back in fifteen. Not the right universe, gonna take a quick look around.” Don’t even think I left this universe in the first place, she murmured under her breath. The zeppelins overhead certainly weren’t a good sign.

“Roger that, over.”

She looked up from sliding her phone into her pocket right into the face of a shocked teenage girl who had just rounded the corner and was now, at the sight of her, running up to grab her in a hug.

“Mum! Oh thank god you’re alright, we’ve been worried sick about you.” And suddenly Rose found herself with arms thrown round her neck, hugging her tightly.

Shit, shit, shit, she thought. Whoever this kid is, I’m not her mum. But I can’t go breaking her heart, if she’s vulnerable enough to throw herself at a stranger.

The young girl let out a laugh that seemed suspiciously wet. “Dad’s gonna be so upset when he hears that after all the work he did, it was me who found you.” She inhaled deeply, as if finally relaxing. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

What am I gonna say to her? Rose thought. She returned the hug gently, so as not to alarm her. Think of something, think of something…

She pulled away slowly to look the young woman in the eyes, brown enough to remind her of– she stopped that thought in its tracks as soon as it started, even if the metaphorical knife between her ribs was already twisting. “Sweetheart, I…. I may not be who you think I am.”

The look in the teenager’s eyes changed in an instant. “Mum?” The single syllable was dripping with confusion.

But before Rose was forced to think of something else to say in this painfully awkward conversation, a lightbulb seemed to go off in the young girl’s eyes. As if sizing her up, she scanned Rose up and down, before nodding her head ever so slightly to herself.

“You’ve not just come by way of Ainchenn transport gun, have you?”

Rose shook her head carefully, brows knitting in confusion. How could a kid think to ask a question like that?

This too had a profound effect on the stranger. Her cheeks burnt bright red, her eyes flying down to her trainers.

“God , I’m so sorry. I’m, well, I’m Mia. I’m, um,” she paused, searching for the right words in this impossible situation. How to introduce yourself to the person who chose your name, raised you? “I am still your daughter though.” She cringed instantly. Great word choice.

Rose only quirked an eyebrow before the girl – Mia – started again.

“Sorry, sorry, that sounded insane too. What I mean is, well,” another pause, “you’re not from this time period, are you?”

At this, Rose grew deeply, genuinely confused. It was her turn to size up the person in front of her. How could a girl who scarcely looked old enough for high school know about time travel? Why would she?

“I’m not, no. I’m travelling, trying to get back to this man I used to travel with, called the –”

“The Doctor,” Mia finished in unison.

Rose’s heart set quick to pounding. “You know the Doctor?” She could tell her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open, but she didn’t care. If this girl knew about the Doctor, she would take whatever she could get. She could feel the blood rushing hot through her veins.

Mia smiled, and nodded cautiously. “Yeah, like I said, I’m your daughter.”

Rose’s head span. What?

“What do you mean?”

Mia smiled sheepishly. “The Doctor and Rose Tyler are my parents. You’re Rose Tyler.”

Rose’s ears were ringing. The Doctor and Rose Tyler are my parents. She and the Doctor had a kid? She’d never even considered kids with him, let alone thought he might want to have some with her one day.

But if she were telling the truth…

And if she really was still in Pete’s World…

And Mia’s eyes did remind her of the Doctor’s.

Rose shook her head; the thought was insane. She needed to get a hold of herself.

She swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat.

“How do you know about the Doctor?” she questioned again.

Mia bit her lip, deep in thought. Clearly this whole “knowing the Doctor” thing was a hang-up for her mum – makes sense if that’s the one thing that’s been kept out of her reach for the past few years.

Another lightbulb clicked on.

“Can I show you a picture?” When Rose didn’t show signs of dissenting, she pulled out her phone. “For us, your birthday was just last week, so we went out to dinner, the three of us. I can show you.”

Mia drifted into Rose’s personal space, where Rose practically vibrated with tension. She watched with rapt attention as Mia opened her messages, tapped a string titled “THE tylers” and then scrolled up a ways. She tried to read the messages as they flew past as fast as she could – the phrase “Grandma Jackie” stood out to her, and a text that read “so I’m still picking you up from school?” At last, Mia found what she was looking for, and tapped on the picture to let it fill the screen.

Rose’s heart stopped in her chest, her very breath freezing in her lungs.

There for her eyes to drink their fill was herself, squished between the young woman who stood before her and the Doctor. Right there, grinning so wide it could split his face, with his arm around Rose’s shoulders.

The Doctor.

She couldn’t help herself from lifting the phone from Mia’s hands to inspect it closer, or to quickly brush away the tear that had landed on the screen.

The face that she hadn’t seen in almost three years. Looking into the camera. Looking at her. She wanted to stand here and soak it up forever. She wanted to do whatever it took to be in that photo.

(As if flinging herself across universes wasn’t enough. If only it worked.)

Mia was finding it hard to be unaffected at the sight of her own mother being so distraught, no matter how far apart in time they were. Her own heart clenched at the way tears welled up and ran down her mother’s cheeks, unnoticed, because she was so entranced by the picture before her.

It was devastating. Hearing her parents, stupid, love-drunk as they were, talking about their time apart was one thing, but watching one of them trapped in the very middle of that heartbreak was something else entirely. Before she even realised she was doing it, Mia was searching for a way to fix this, to make it better.

She’d heard when she walked up that her mum was already planning on jumping back. Not reversing the transport gun like she’d thought, but jumping back. With the dimension cannon. Having her dad come over from wherever he was wouldn’t work. They might not have a lot of time.

A lightbulb didn’t flicker on this time so much as a neon sign above an all-night diner never really turns off.

“I can call him,” Mia suddenly heard herself say. Rose’s head snapped up, as if on a string that had been yanked. “If you want.”

Rose’s throat went dry. “Call him?” She blinked, tried to stand up straighter.

Mia nodded, unsure but hopeful. “Would that be okay? Would you like that?” Please say yes, she thought.

Rose nodded, trying to take hold of herself. “Yeah. Call him.” She tried to catch her breath. “Please.”

Her heart was pounding. It was like she’d just had ten shots of espresso, ran a marathon, and been awake for three days straight. In a few short moments, she was going to talk to the Doctor.

Rose delicately handed the phone back, treating it as if it were a newborn baby. As far as she was concerned, it was precious. She watched as Mia took it, navigated to the phone, and from the favourites list tapped on the contact titled Dad, followed by three banana emojis.

As it began to ring Mia brought it to her ear. The sound was deafening.

Make that eleven shots of espresso. She was going to throw up. The blare of the dial tone. She was going to pass out. She was going to–

“Hello, my ladybug,” a garbled – but unmistakable — voice said on the other end of the line.

The Doctor was on the other end of that phone call. It was all Rose could do not to break down into tears right there.

Mia felt suddenly winded. “Dad?”

“I’m here. Is everything okay?” It was so good to hear his voice. Why did she have tears in her eyes?

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Um, funny story, though.” Her eyes flickered nervously to her mum, who wasn’t so much looking at her as the phone pressed to her ear.

“Funny story in a good way, or a bad way?”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “You know how before Mum found you again, she jumped around to different places? Across, like, universes, and stuff?”

“I’m not likely to forget.” It was an attempt at cheek, but his suddenly sombre tone belied any humour.

Rose’s heart felt almost too big for her chest. She was going to explode. She was listening to the Doctor talk about what she was going through right now. He remembered. In whatever future he was in, he knew and he remembered because they were in that future together.

“Well, uhm.” Her voice picked up speed. “It’s not Mum now, it’s before she came back, she’s jumped here and she’s here and she wants to talk to you. She, uhm. She misses you.”

“What? ” Even without seeing him, both women could clearly picture the look of confusion on his face.

“I think she may have to –” she searched for the right word “-- go back soon, but I was thinking you could talk to her?”

Even from here, she could hear the gears turning in his mind.

“Can I give the phone to her?”

He came out of his stupor a little. “Yeah, yes, please. Thank you, Mia. You clever, clever girl.”

Mia looked up at Rose then, gently offering the phone towards her. Rose gazed back, as if she was being trusted with something too precious to be exchanged here, on this pavement beside the Thames, on a random over-bright day.

She brought the phone to her ear, ever so delicately.

“Rose?” the Doctor said.

She couldn’t help it.

She burst into tears.

“Rose, is that you?”

She tried to manage an affirmative mmhmm, she really did. But he was talking to her and she had missed him so much .

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry I’m not there with you right now.” The sound of his voice . She sobbed. “Are– are you alright?”

“I just–” She blew out a long breath. “I - I miss you.” The admission was enough to start her off again, her grief having finally found an outlet through which to pass freely; the water of the river finally crashing through the dam.

“I know,” he murmured, “I miss you too.”

And it was so terribly true, the Doctor thought to himself. Sitting alone at this table in a conference room at Torchwood, having spent the whole afternoon trying to find his wife. And she was looking for him too. His heart twisted and snarled in his chest, looking for something to close around, aching to be with her. No matter the time or the place. They were always trying to find their way back to each other.

Another sob breaking through her almost destroyed him. He’d spent (too much) time since opening his eyes to this new existence now more than twenty-some years ago, thinking about all the ways he wished he could have been there for her when she was doing this – jumping from universe to universe, no end in sight and no reason to hope, with the weight of all of creation and then some on her shoulders. All alone.

All but for this stolen reprieve.

“You are so brave, my precious, brilliant girl. I am so lucky being able to talk to you right now, to tell you that it’s all going to be okay. Because it is. I’m proof, and so is Mia.” Rose resigned all hope of reigning in her tears. Her eyes flickered up to Mia at the mention, who was watching her nervously but tried for a reassuring smile at the eye contact. She offered her mum a little thumbs up.

“We have a daughter, Rose.”

Even though he knew it, and had known it, and had revelled in the joy of it for more than fifteen years, the Doctor still found himself suddenly misty-eyed. “Every single joy in the universe lives in her, and in you, because you found your way back to me. I promise, you are so close to this nightmare being over, okay? I promise. Even though I’m not with you now physically, I’m always with you. My Fortuna.”

Her breath shuttered and halted and rushed back in. My Fortuna.

“Can I ask, when you’ve just come from?”

She cleared her throat and tried to take a steadying breath. She was going to find her way back to him. The thought overwhelmed her every sense. She was blind, unseeing in the dark, except for this one flicker of light she could now crawl towards.

“My birthday’s just gone, too. Just over a month ago now. 2008.”

The Doctor couldn’t help the short gasp he let out. If it was almost June 2008, then she really was close to this nightmare being over.

“Is – is that good?” Nervous.

She could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, could picture it stretching his cheeks and shining like the sun. “Yes . I know I don’t need to tell you we’re toeing the proverbial laws-of-time line as it is already, but you are so close. You’re in the home stretch.”

A bomb could have just gone off, from the way her ears were ringing. The home stretch. She was in the home stretch and she was going to find him again and one day she’d be able to see the smile she could now only hear.

With cruel irony, her dimension cannon beeped at her side. A computer’s voice announced, “two minutes until shift.”

Damn that stupid cannon and these stupid universes and her stupid luck.

“It feels like I’m never gonna find you,” she whispered. Her darkest secret.

His heart twisted and shattered and broke. He missed her. He needed her. He loved her.

“You will, I promise you will.” He bit down on his lip. The Doctor was and always had been a fixer, but this was a moment where he couldn’t and had no choice; resigned to being a passenger as time ran its unrepentant course. But there was one thing he still hadn’t told her that he wished she knew.

Well, fuck it.

“I’m not going to rob you of any moments you have yet to experience, and there are going to be a lot of good ones,” he chuckled to himself, “but, well, there is something I want you to know. Do you remember the last time we spoke, on the beach?”

Rose Tyler, I- . As if she could ever forget. Pain twisted in her chest, sharp and stinging.

“Yeah,” she breathed out.

The Doctor took a deep breath. “You told me something. Something I don’t take lightly. And I want, need you to know, that… you’re everything to me. You have given me happiness more infinite than I could have ever dreamed of. You are the centre of my universe. You are my heart. I… I care for you more than I can say. Do –” he felt suddenly worried, worried that this opportunity might be lost, that she wouldn’t know, that she was doomed to suffer this next month in the dark, that she had never known until that second time on the beach; not at the Game Station, or Krop Tor, or— “Do you know what I’m trying to say?”

Rose’s tears were hot against her cheeks, her chest heavy with longing. She wanted to run until she found him, and rest with him in her soul at the crack of dawn after this long, long night.

He loved her.

“Yes, Doctor. Of course I do, I do too, I–”

The phone, suddenly without someone to hold it up, fell offensively to the ground. The way it laid there, staring unblinking into the sun against the pavement, was almost violent.

“Rose? Rose?!”

Mia picked the phone up gingerly.

“She disappeared, Dad.”

His head was full of static. His thoughts were rushing and all he could hear was the crash of a wave just about to take him under.

Of course I do. I do too, she had said.

He let out a breath, devastated and relieved as realisation struck like lightning to every one of his nerves.

Oh.

Oh.

She knows.

[chatgptwritesfanfiction]

Sweet Nicknames

The volleyball court was alive with energy as you and Hinata Shouyou, the fiery sunshine of the Karasuno team, practiced tirelessly. The sound of your spikes and the cheering of your teammates filled the air, but amidst the intensity, there was a connection that blossomed between you and Hinata—one that went beyond the sport itself.

One sunny afternoon, as the two of you took a break from your rigorous training, Hinata approached you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. With a shy smile tugging at his lips, he mustered the courage to call you by a new name, a nickname that held a hint of endearment.

"Hey, (Y/N)," Hinata said, his voice filled with a newfound sweetness, "can I call you 'Sunshine'? Because you bring light to my day, just like the sun."

A blush crept across your cheeks, your heart fluttering at his words. The affectionate nickname seemed to capture the essence of your connection, a reminder of the warmth and joy that radiated between you.

Hinata's choice of nickname reflected his vibrant personality, and it filled you with a sense of adoration. The nickname became a symbol of the bond you shared, one that surpassed the boundaries of the volleyball court.

As the days went by, Hinata continued to use the nickname, his voice filled with affection and fondness whenever he called you "Sunshine." Each time he said it, it felt like a gentle caress, a reminder of the light you brought into his life.

In moments of triumph, when the team celebrated a hard-fought victory, Hinata's voice would rise above the cheers, calling out your nickname with joy and pride. The sound of it reverberated through your being, kindling a warmth that spread from the tips of your toes to the depths of your heart.

But it was in moments of vulnerability that the true power of the nickname shone through. During challenging matches or difficult times, Hinata's voice would soften as he whispered, "Don't worry, Sunshine, I believe in you."

His words became a soothing balm, erasing doubts and fears. In those moments, the nickname held a deeper meaning—it represented Hinata's unwavering belief in your abilities, his faith in your strength, and his unwavering support.

The nickname "Sunshine" became a reminder that you were cherished and valued, not just as a teammate but as a person. It served as a beacon of encouragement, lifting your spirits and fueling your determination.

And as you stood side by side with Hinata, facing challenges both on and off the court, you realized that the nickname had become an integral part of your relationship. It symbolized the trust, affection, and unwavering support that you shared—a connection that transcended the boundaries of volleyball and resonated deep within your souls.

For in the embrace of Hinata's affectionate nickname, you found a sanctuary—a place where you were reminded of the light you brought to his life, and where your bond continued to grow, nurtured by the warmth of his unwavering love and the unspoken promises it held.

a/n: considering it's one in the morning, i don't really know where i'm getting any of these ideas from. you can thank the otp prompts and my liking of extroverted characters.

[dominustempori]

Alright people, it's happening again!

The fanfic muse has been haunting my dreams, and distracting me at my job more than sporadically, these last few months. And I have FINALLY put pen to paper...or fingers to keyboard I should say.

Not a Ghostbusters story this time, but my own little story to add to the legacy that is the Monkey Island saga.

I (partially) blame some new mutuals I've 'met' since the latest game, "Return to Monkey Island," was released last fall. Mind you, the BAREST hint of an idea for an MI fic started swirling around my fangirl brain years ago when the LAST game, "Tales of Monkey Island," came out back in 2009. "Return" helped to solidify that idea, along with some brilliant artwork that was inspired by this amazing adventure game.

More chapters (parts? I don't know what I should call them exactly, but I've got plenty of head canons I might turn into proper fics or drabbles.) may most likely appear in future posts, and maybe my FFN account. Maybe. At the very least I had to get a start to clear my head a little more. A long-awaited (by me, hee.) story featuring one of my OTPs: Elaine Marley and Guybrush Threepwood.

So...here we go. Hope you all enjoy.

“Their Grandest Adventure Ever”

Part 1:

The warm Caribbean sun shone its morning light through the Captain's cabin’s beveled windows.  Its rays alighted on a head of long, slightly unkempt golden hair, which stirred slightly as its owner approached a semi-state of wakefulness.  Guybrush Threepwood, Mighty Pirate, groaned softly as the sunrise broke over the horizon.  He had hoped for a few more minutes of sleep, but today, time waited for no captain. 

“’Morning, Plunderbunny,” he muttered groggily as his hand reached out across the bed.  “Are you awake yet?”

The silence he received spurred Guybrush into opening his eyes and waking up just that bit more.  His wife must’ve gotten up earlier, but where was she, he wondered.

He called out a little louder, “Elaine?  Sweetie?”

Guybrush sat up in a rush, fully conscious now.  If Elaine had been in their washroom, surely she would have called back to him.  Maybe she was already dressed and on deck?  Or down in the galley helping with breakfast?  Although, he thought to himself, she rarely, if ever, was awake and about her shipboard duties by sunup.  Both of them tended to linger in bed a bit after slowly waking up, AFTER the sun had risen, often still in each other’s embrace.

“Better go and find her,” the pirate captain muttered to himself, and then added as an afterthought, “I hope she’s all right.”

Guybrush hurriedly pulled off his night clothes and rummaged in his wardrobe for his usual ‘at-sea’ outfit: white linen shirt, black trousers, stockings and boots, belt and baldric.  He decided to forgo his blue captain’s coat, and opted for one of his waistcoats – midnight blue silk with a swirl pattern embroidered into it, with gold buttons: his latest anniversary gift from Elaine.  He smiled to himself as he put the vest on, swiftly tied his hair into his traditional ponytail, and then turned around to head out the door. 

He stopped for a second: why was the door open?  Not completely, but not closed all the way as he had done last night?  If Elaine had gone out to start working, surely she would have closed it behind her so as to let her husband sleep undisturbed?

Guybrush was worried now.

He rushed out of the cabin and looked around the ship, from portside to starboard…unless she was down below or up on the quarterdeck…wait.

There she was!  She was leaning on the starboard railing, just a few steps away from the cabin and looking at… what exactly?  Her hands seemed to have been grasping the balustrade more…tightly than she normally would, he observed. She was sort of more…hunched over.  And she was looking downward…something in the water maybe-hopefully not another giant manatee.

And had she…had she been crying?  Her face had that distinct blush to it, but, tinged with…an almost greenish hue?  Then he heard the slightest, shuddering sob come from his wife’s lips, followed by a long sigh. 

He couldn’t stand there any longer.  Guybrush hurriedly walked over to his poor Plunderbunny’s side, reaching out and calling her name.  “Elaine!  Are you all right?  What’s wrong?”

Elaine started at the sound of her husband’s worried shout, and then turned around to face him as he got near her, though she was still feeling a little shaky.  He had both his arms extended out, as if he wanted nothing more than to pull her into a hug and hold her close.  But his face told a different story: eyes wide, mouth set in a nervous frown…he knew something had happened to her. 

She stood up a little straighter, reached one hand out towards one of his, and gently laid his palm on her warm cheek, to help ground and steady her a bit more.  She laid her other hand on his own face, to reassure him. 

“I’m…I’m all right, love.  I’m feeling better now.”  Guybrush couldn’t help but wince a bit at the sound of her voice; it was a bit hoarse and low-pitched…far too much for just having woken up.

“Sweetie,” he said as he moved his hand from her face to gently grasp her shoulder,”…you’ve been seasick.  You NEVER get seasick!  Not in all the years we’ve been together.  Something’s wrong…are you SURE you’re all right?”  He was making a mighty effort to not let the wave of panic he started to feel creep into his voice, but from looking at Elaine’s wide, emerald eyes, he wasn’t sure if he was succeeding.

Elaine started to respond, but then, taking her husband by utter surprise, fell into his arms and started to weep.  She laid her head on his chest, with both hands grabbing his shoulders tightly; her warm tears slowly rolled down her tired face and onto Guybrush’s shirt.  Taken aback for a moment, Guybrush came to his senses and embraced his sobbing spouse.  One trembling hand moved to the back of her head to stroke her long, dark red hair, the other hand curving around to gently rub her back.

They stood that way for a few minutes, Guybrush giving his wife time to calm down a little, and then he placed a reassuring kiss to her temple.  “Let’s get you back to the cabin, back to bed so you can rest up.  Get a drink of water or something…come on, Laineykins.  I’ve got you.”

Elaine began to shake her head no, but she felt so tired after her cry, she couldn’t help but lean into her concerned husband’s side as he led her back to their bedroom.  As they stepped inside, Guybrush closed the door behind them, indicating to the crew that the Captain wished to not be disrupted.  He then guided Elaine toward the bed and waited until she sat down on the edge of the mattress.  “I don’t feel like lying down just yet, Guybrush, I…could you join me?” she asked her husband softly.

“Of course, honey.  Can I get you anything first?  Do you think you could keep down some water? “

“A small glass would be lovely, dear.  Thank you.”

Guybrush went around to his nightstand where a pitcher of fresh water stood, along with two pewter mugs.  He poured Elaine and himself some water, and handed a mug to Elaine.  She smiled slightly up at him as he sat down carefully beside her.  “Slowly now, a little sip at a time,” he reminded her.  He wouldn’t admit this to anyone BUT Elaine, but he’d had a bout or two of seasickness when he was a younger, more inexperienced pirate.

He decided to let Elaine start the conversation; she obviously wanted, no, NEEDED to tell him something, but there was no point in making her more anxious or upset.  After a couple small sips, she wet her lips and took a deep breath.

“Guybrush, dearest, I’ve…this isn’t the first time I’ve gotten sick the last few days.” That brought a gasp from her husband, who proceeded to take her free hand and hold it in his own.  He started to say something but Elaine beat him to it.  “Please, love, let me finish.”  Guybrush gulped down his words, but his widened blue eyes spoke volumes.  Elaine took another calming breath and went on.  “I was hoping I wouldn’t wake you when I got up to, well…I wanted to let you sleep in.  I didn’t want you to worry unnecessarily, at least, not until now. I, um…”

Guybrush couldn’t resist taking advantage of her pause.  “Elaine, please tell me.  Is there something wrong?  I mean, you’ve been feeling sick for the last few days?  That must mean something?”  Oh when Guybrush used his pleading voice…how could she resist it?

“Sweetie, I, it’s not THROUGHOUT the day that I’ve been feeling unwell, just…when I…when I wake up.”

“Alright, so you’ve been getting sick in the mornings, and…”

Guybrush could DEFINITELY not help but gasp as he took in what he just said.  Sick…in the MORNINGS.  He didn’t think his eyes could get any wider, or that he would ever find himself at a complete loss for words.  Elaine stared back, with a hopeful smile and a tiny glistening of tears in the corners of her eyes.

Her stunned husband shook his head for second, before carefully taking Elaine’s mug of water and placing it on the floor along with his own.  With a slight smile of his own, he then placed one hand gently along his wife’s reddened cheek, and the other…ever so carefully… over her belly.

“Sweetie…do you think you might be…?”

“I…I think I might be, love.”

Guybrush let out a small but joyful laugh.  He looked down at where his hand lay on Elaine’s stomach, and saw her own hand move to cover it.  Then he laid his gaze back on his beautiful wife’s…glowing…face.  Was it a trick of the morning light, he thought?  “No, she IS glowing.  How didn’t I notice before? Well for THAT matter…oh never mind that!  Say something to her!” he reprimanded himself. 

“Oh Elaine, I…you’re…we’re…”

Elaine gave a small laugh of her own as she realized her husband was feeling a little overwhelmed, much like the first time they met.  That thought made her smile all the wider.

“Yes, my love.  I’m pregnant.  You’re going to be a father.  We’re having a baby.”

[sunofsnek]

#Fictober - Day 5: "It's a new day, let's go."

OTP ship fluff, early morning cuddles. Link to Ao3 here.

As the sun shone in his face, Aryaxes groaned. He had planned to sleep in for longer today, but he seemingly had forgotten to close the curtains last night, so that was done. Before he could decide to close his eyes again, even if not to sleep than to enjoy the warmth, his stomach growled, which meant either way he had to get up to make breakfast. As he tried to move, he realized he couldn’t. The other person was sprawled all over his body, head on his chest, legs entangled, long hair all over the place.

“Hey, let me get up.” His voice low to not startle her.

“No.” A small defiant sound, murmured against his skin. He rolled his eyes, trying to get her off carefully, but she was making herself heavy, even if she wasn’t even awake yet. If he weren’t hungry, he almost would find it endearing. “Alina, it’s a new day, let’s go. Come on, you slept long enough.” But, nothing. No movement. Aryaxes knew the next sentence was basically cheating but he had to.

“If you are not going off me, I can’t make breakfast, Lina.” And quicker than he could say another word, she moved, rolling herself tight into the sheets, pulling them off him in the process, exposing him suddenly to the cold morning air.

“Why are you like this?” His tone scolding, but he was only met with a soft chuckle, muffled by the pillow. A soft smile appeared on his lips, Aryaxes leaning down to press a kiss on the small spot of her head that was not covered by sheets.

“I’ll be back shortly, menace.”

[queen-of-the-icemark]

New fic up! This one is for Barbatos and Chastille (newest OTP) from "An Archdemon's Dilemma: How to Love Your Elf Bride?" It's my longest fic to date, and (amazingly!) it's NOT smut! (Yet.)

____________________________________________________________

It was a beautiful day in the Holy City of Raziel. The afternoon sun shone down on the bustling streets, warming people’s backs as they hurried to and fro. A cool autumn breeze balanced the heat. A perfect day to be outdoors. 

Chastille let out a long sigh. Despite the fine weather, she was having a difficult time enjoying herself. She walked between the rows of market stalls aimlessly, her eyes skimming over the wares without really seeing them.  

“Hey, crybaby, are you even lookin’? You’re the one who wanted to go shopping, but we’re just walkin’ in circles.” Keeping pace beside Chastille was a tall, lanky man with unkempt hair and an unhealthy complexion. “Not that a klutz like you needs more shit to break.” 

Others might have taken offense, but Chastille had over a year of practice now interpreting Barbatos’ rough speech. While his question might have sounded rude on the surface, she could tell her distracted behavior had him concerned. “I’m not really looking for anything,” she replied. “We got here earlier than I planned. I just thought it might be nice to walk around for a bit before-” Her throat involuntarily tightened. Swallowing down her nerves, she continued, “Before our meeting at headquarters.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[fey-changeling]

for the word game: light, kiss, smirk!

Light! From soldier/sorceress

Findabhair's pale hair was washed in reds, the sinking sun crowned her with light, her robes shone iridescent.

Kiss! god knows, current otp bullshit

Rem blew her a kiss, made a very brief lewd gesture, and closed the door.

Smirk! I cannot tell you how difficult this was to find. Not a current wip but still otp bullshit

Isolde gave her a little smirk and half raised an eyebrow. "Well then."

Thanks for the ask 🥰

[anghraine]

Idk I hate the semi-popular headcanon people have of illiterate eowyn like... Rohan is a primarily oral culture but I just don't buy that someone in her position wouldn't know how to read or write! In fact the whole 'dumb jock' Eowyn stereotype gets my goat and frequently those two overlap

I agree about what's probable for Éowyn, as a member of the ruling family (especially given the close alliance with and cultural influence of Gondor, particularly in the royal household). I also I think it's ... extremely unfortunate that those two tropes overlap so much.

I know some people are really into the idea of Faramir teaching her to read as a shippy thing, but there's something about the fanon take that I find really uncomfortable tbh. I do think her experience of reading would likely be more utilitarian than his, but her specific position in terms of geopolitics makes the trope improbable and it runs into some pretty gross assumptions really fast.

[dunadaneth]

        Though she be skilled with sword, the bow was yet another challenge she had yet to master. And who better a teacher than Aragorn himself? The man hunted in the Wilds and survived on his own- surely he would know better than most! “You’re too humble,” she replied, following his guidance, the touch of his hand warm against her. She mourned its absence. “I’m sure you do just as good, if not better.”

        At his grin, she steeled herself, following what he had told her earlier. Breathe, exhale, draw, -and-!! She released, and the arrow sang past- only to miss the target, sailing off into the bushes somewhere. Biting her lip, she turned to look at him bashfully over her shoulder. “I don’t think you friend should like to meet me, with the way things are going.”

@telcxntar (cont. from here.)

[umbralaether]

“How am I supposed to focus when you’re looking at me like that?” from random otp prompts list 👀

Do not perceive me okay suggestive content below

When the early morning sun shone through the window, Eisha woke to a room glittering with a new kind of beauty.

Reflecting against the walls, vibrant blue hues bounced and painted the pale walls like stained glass. A shirtless G'raha was seated with his back to her, leafing through several different tomes at the same time, completely enraptured in the text. She could not help but stare at the sight of him, how unique the crystal encasing his body was— though it was not translucent by any means, it refracted light just the same. It shimmered and gleamed around them, faint rainbows hidden within the blues, and she could not help but be reminded of the way light hit water.

It was mesmerizing.

She lay there as the sun rose further, watching as the light gleamed in deeper blues and splashed against the white pages of the tomes. Her mind wanders to touching that crystal, of running her hands along his frame and kissing where it met flesh and reveling in the blush left behind. Thoughts of running fingertips against every part of him that had been starved of touch ran rampant against her skull. Would he once again shiver in delight as she whispered sweet things against his love-bitten skin? A sight she was sure she'd never grow tired of. Oh the things I would do to witness that again…

He flicks an ear, then looks over his shoulder, "Well, how am I to focus if you're looking at me like that, hm?"

She's caught red handed but it only makes her grin devilishly, "I suppose you'll have to shift your focus, then."

She sits up and scoots forward to hug him from behind. Slowly, meticulously, she runs her hands down his chest, the smooth crystal just as warm as the rest of him, and carefully makes her way down along his hips and then along his inner thighs.

He shivers and it makes her grin victoriously.

"You're so beautiful, G'raha. I just can't help but stare at you." She murmurs against his back.

A small whine of protest when she pulls herself away. She leans back on her elbows, and he doesn't have to see her to know exactly how smug she looks.

He shuts the books in front of him, sliding them to the end of the bed to be forgotten, then turns and all but crashes his lips against hers. The intensity behind his kisses send sparks along her nerves, twinkling against her eyelids like the room around her. Each gasp of breath and drawn out moan she draws forth from him only ignites them further, and she thanks the Twelve and every other deity there is for keeping her alive long enough to experience a something she had long given up hope for.

A reunion, one that burns hotter than a forge.

[takenbypeter]

Number 10

Which one of your OTP...

10. Makes the other late for work because 5 minutes of cuddles is NEEDED

Peter Parker - You

Honestly both you and Peter would be late due to cuddles. First Peter, claiming five minutes wouldn’t make you late but, exactly on time. Then after five minutes pass by, you’ll be the one clinging to him, making you a good ten minutes late. This would happen every morning, even when you tried to wake up earlier, that just ended up meaning more time to cuddle. 

Peter Maximoff - You

Once Peter is in a cuddly mood he will not let you go. You try to escape his grip, saying you’ll be late for work but that only makes him hold you tighter, claiming his own philosophy that work is for the weak anyways. Once he has a hold on you, it becomes hard for you to leave and this happens so often, that now you try to sneak out from his arms before he can wake up. This plan is usually half-successful. 

Bucky Barnes - You

You absolutely loved your cuddling time with Bucky. You hated when the sun shone into your shared bedroom because that meant it was time to get up. Bucky’s the one who has to nudge you awake, while you pretend to sleep for the first five minutes, after that you stay in his arms thinking of excuses not to go to work. Although Bucky loves this time with you, he knows how much your work relies on you and eventually convinces you to get ready for the day. 

Loki - You

Loki loves his cuddles, at first he does the whole, “pretending not to enjoy it,” act. But after getting used to the touch of cuddling you, he’ll hold you tight and when that alarm rings, “Five more minutes,” he’ll say. You won’t even argue with him, gladly giving him those extra minutes. 

Druig - You

Druig definitely needs his five more minutes, he would claim he couldn’t survive without it. After five minutes he’d ask for five more and you’d laugh, telling him he had to go take care of his community. He’d say that since he’s technically in charge, he can be late a few extra minutes and you’d cave but only for ten more minutes. 

Which one of your OTP...list

Feel free to send a request

[alj4890]

Alone

(Drake x Olivia) in a Choices The Royal Romance/Heir fan fic.

A/N No reason other than I needed a little Dralivia. And I think it isn't a secret from previous fics how I feel about Drake's mom (in case you don't know, I can't stand her, LOL). Thus, for some reason, listening to the song while working on a fic for another Choices OTP couple of mine, this angsty idea somehow came about.

Rating: G

Song Inspiration: Hold My Hand by Lady Gaga

Masterlist

@krsnlove @sirbeepsalot @lodberg ​ @mynameiskaylabella @museofbooks @elbenmond @gibbles82 @twinkleallnight @thehonorarybeaumont @tessa-liam @moodmusicmonday @choicesficwriterscreations

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

The sun shouldn't be shining so brightly. Birds shouldn't be chirping their sweet songs. The cool breeze shouldn't be gentle and soothing. This wasn't at all how the world should look today.

Rain should be falling steadily. Perhaps a faint roll of thunder should rumble off in the distance. The wind should be icy, chilling one to the bone. The sky should be a slate gray color giving no hope for sunlight filtering through.

Funerals were meant for that type of atmosphere.

Drake swallowed against the lump of emotion in his throat. He tugged at the knot in his carefully contructed tie, causing it to become lopsided. He ran a hand through his hair. He next slipped on a pair of sunglasses when he noticed some people watching him.

He didn't need this audience. Over half of these people wouldn't have come to his mother's funeral if Liam hadn't made him a Guardian of the Realm. Nobody would have cared that the Walker siblings had lost their only remaining parent if he had not helped save Liam and Riley as often as he had.

Well, perhaps a few would have come. He could always depend on Liam to be there for him. Somehow he had become close to Maxwell, Riley, and Hana along the way. They were just as loyal as one could wish. Even if Bertrand was not married to Savannah, Drake suspected he would still have come to pay his respects.

But none of the others would have cared enough about him to come. No one would have flown all the way out here in to an insignificant Texas town for him.

Well, maybe one other might have.

As the pastor continued his sermon, Drake took advantage of his sunglasses to secretly search for Olivia in the crowd. It didn't take long to find her. Her rich red hair with sunlight shining upon it shone easily against the black clothed individuals.

He was surprised to see her head bowed. Her lips were not hardened in their typical manner. Her hands were loosely clasped in front of her black clad body. A few stray strands of her hair gently got caught in the occasional breeze.

He tried to swallow once more when his sister's muffled sob broke through his study of the duchess. He glanced to his right to see Bertrand wrap his arms around her, whispering against her hair.

Drake only caught a part of what he said.

"I'm right here."

That softly said phrase cut Drake to the quick.

He'd never felt so alone before. He'd experienced lonliness throughout his life, but he never realized how alone he was without a significant other. Liam often told him how much he needed and depended on Riley. Drake had witnessed first hand the changes in Bertrand and Savannah once they married.

But Drake didn't have that.

And now, he must say goodbye to the one parent who had caused nothing but conflicted feelings deep within his heart.

Drake didn't know what to do. Should he be angry and harden his heart against this woman who had abandoned him and his little sister all those years ago? Or should he only focus on the last couple of years and her attempts to makeup for her mistakes?

How uncertain could a man be?

Memories flickered through his mind of his mom when he was little. The gruff manner she would pull him in for a quick hug. The feel of her ruffling his hair. The way she would tuck him into bed at night.

Then thoughts of near silence. Wasn't that what she gave him for years until Liam got married? Actually, would she have shown her face at all if Liam hadn't made certain to invite her to his wedding? Would she have shown up if she hadn't known Savannah had given birth to her first grandchild?

Did she even want to see me? Or was her return to Cordonia for other reasons?

He blinked when people began to step forward to lay a final flower upon the mahogany casket.

Rubbing a hand down his face, he picked up his lone flower. He grimaced somewhat at the number of lilies and roses. His own wildflower he had picked seemed so out of place amongst them. It looked like he didn't care.

And he knew he was the only one left alive to remember the reason for picking the Firewheel for this final time.

The vibrant yellow and red petals were a stark contrast to the delicate, expensive, white flowers.

Tears burned his eyes yet refused to fall.

Stepping back, he went through the motions of thanking those who had come along with his sister and brother-in-law. His aunt was gruff were her murmurs of gratitude.

During one of the so sorry for your loss from a well meaning noble, Drake noticed Olivia slip away without a word. His brow furrowed over the fact she wasn't going to even bother to say anything to him. He'd thought that they were finally beyond being hateful to one another.

I guess I was wrong.

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

The next couple of days were spent as cohost to those who remained in Texas. Neighbors came by the old farmhouse with enough food to help feed the company of Cordonia's most respected.

Drake was thoroughly tired of it by the third day.

He sneaked out one evening at dusk. Sighing in relief once he was a hundred yards from the crowded house, he continued on toward one of the outer fields.

He leaned against one of the fence posts, watching the last rays of light disappear.

"It's beautiful out here."

He swung around in surprise.

Olivia stepped up beside him, eyes focused on the western horizon.

His eyes narrowed somewhat. He had seen her speaking to others, yet she had kept her distance from him ever since the funeral. It irritated him. She hadn't even bothered to say she was sorry for his loss, yet had somehow followed him out here when he wanted to be alone.

No, that wasn't right. He didn't want to be alone. Not really. But that was how he'd been during this whole process.

Olivia cut her eyes to study his profile. She'd never felt so out of her depths before. What she was about to do was something she'd never felt compelled to do for anyone else in her life. It was something she couldn't stop thinking about. It irritated her that she'd felt driven to do this for Drake, of all people. She couldn't rest and remain inactive any longer.

She could see how much he was hurting yet was hiding it better than most could. She knew that kind of pain. Understood it. Lived with it all these many years.

And she'd known she couldn't approach him until the time was right and there was a lack of an audience.

"Why are you here?" He asked in a bitter tone.

Olivia didn't flinch. Didn't even bat an eyelash over the harsh accusation one could so easily hear. She knew what was causing it.

"I didn't want you to be alone anymore." She stated simply.

He snorted. "Did it ever occur to you that I have been surrounded by people for days?" He glared at her. "Was it not obvious since I asked no one to come out here with me that I needed to be alone?"

She turned to face him. Her normally hard gaze was soft, emerald eyes steadily meeting his angry brown. They didn't bother to probe to see where his questions were coming from.

And that unnerved him.

Instead of snapping back with an angry retort to set him in his place, she tentatively placed her hand over his.

His fist clinched upon the worn wooden plank. It was as if he fought against accepting her silent comfort.

Her fingers brushed along his knuckles until they settled along his fingers, curving over them as if in protection.

Drake could feel that familar burn of tears. His throat convulsed around that ever growing lump that threatened to choke him.

"I know, Drake." Olivia said softly.

And he knew she did. She understood without him having to say that he didn't know if he was mourning his parent or for the memories he once cherished or for what might have been if she had not left him.

He looked out at the meadow, seeing that same wildflower he'd given his mother dotting the slightly rolling land. During family trips here when he was a little boy, he had picked as many Firewheels as his arms could hold as a surprise for his mom. Even now, he could see her delighted smile. He could almost feel the kiss upon his forehead for bringing her such a thoughtful gift.

Stray tears slipped down his cheeks as he gazed upon Olivia's hand holding his.

When had his fingers eased? When had his hand turned to grip hers as if he was about to fall down a canyon of despair?

Her grip on his tightened as she waited patiently for him to say or indicate what he needed next.

His voice cracked.

"Liv. I--"

He wasn't certain who moved first. He only knew he had her crushed to his chest. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his waist as he shook. He buried his face against her neck, taking shuddering breaths.

Olivia closed her eyes tight. She could feel her own tears threatening to spill out. She knew deep down why she was here, allowing herself to experience the pain of losing a parent again. She knew why she was willing to allow her own memories to torture her once more.

She couldn't stand to see Drake have to face it alone. She knew he had Liam, the others, his sister, even an aunt.

But no one knew how to grieve for a parent who betrays you like she did.

As sweet as Liam, Riley, Hana, and Maxwell were, they couldn't begin to fathom the love/hate feelings that threaten to consume one when forced into this situation. To be denied the chance to say what it is you need, what you want, what you deserve from the parent; that is the true sorrow.

Time can't be reversed. Feelings cannot be healed by the person responsible for doing this to you. It is a frustratingly unfair situation.

Olivia was old friends with all of that. She knew soon Drake would be too. Yet, knowing him and seeing the type of man he had grown into, she knew he would only come out stronger and better in the end from all this.

Once he became a father, he would make certain his child never suffered a similar fate.

Just as she swore to her yet to be formed children.

Drake continued to hold on to Olivia, greedily taking every scrap of comfort she gave him. Of all the people in the world, he'd never have dreamed she'd be the one person to give him exactly what he needed in this moment.

And yet here she was, selflessly giving herself to him to use as his crutch, holding him up during this time of heartache.

Her soft whispered words reminding him she was there for him, that she understood touched his aching heart. It reminded him of Bertrand's actions with Savannah.

For the first time in his life, he felt understood. He felt cared for. He felt the stirrings of stronger emotions for the woman in his arms.

Drake knew from this moment on that he would no longer be alone.

[bcbdrums]

Heat

A/N: (If you don't want my personal life details you can skip this and go straight to the fic.) Life has been crazy ever since my birthday, and it's only getting crazier. Weird health issues, NEW JOB, going on a year now without WIFI... Life is strange. But still good.

Anyway, trying to get the OTP back into my brain and if you know me, you know of course it's gonna be something small and fluffy for @split-n-splice, just because.

Gonna call this one an M-rating for some very deliberate implications.

Read on:  FFn     AO3

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It was the heat that woke him.

Drakken rolled over to put his back to the window, as he did every morning, and mentally cursed his stupidity at having a high window carved out in the lair that couldn't be easily covered. Of course, he denied its bothering him each morning to Shego when he inevitably crept nearer and nearer to her, forcing her toward the edge of the mattress as the sun encroached on their cozy sleeping space. She loved to tease him about it, and he resolutely made excuses each time, even though they both knew the truth of it.

A few days prior they had been so tired from their latest caper, that when the sun began forcing him onto her side of the bed she hadn't protested even when he'd been pressed up against her, the heat a strange mix of unpleasantness and comfort in their exhaustion-induced brain fog. They had lain together in their self-made sauna until there was no more room in the bed to escape the blazing rays, but rather than start the day, they had luxuriated in a bath until the weariness from the prior day's events had waned. And then they'd made other use of the bath.

Sometimes, Shego often reminded him, part of being evil was taking a day off.

That morning however, his mind was alert and there was no confused enjoyment of the warmth. As he felt the sun at his back he hesitated in scooting toward Shego's side of the bed, knowing that would herald the complaints. His annoyance at his sleep being interrupted had his mind spinning over possible solutions to the problem that never went anywhere, such as having the henchmen install curtains.

"And then you'll complain there's no light and it's claustrophobic," Shego told him the last time he brought it up.

He continued the imaginary conversation in his head, the urge to move growing stronger as he felt his back beginning to burn through his tank top even before the sweating could begin, so hot was the summer sun. But then his attention was arrested as a familiar but unexpected sound reached his ears.

He opened his eyes to find Shego sitting up in the bed, the blankets on her side tossed back, and a brush being run through her raven hair. Her face was turned away from the light, and the dawn's rays shone brightly on the silky locks, revealing just how thick her hair was with each pass of the brush. Drakken was transfixed as every now and then an iridescent green glimmer could be seen fleetingly from where they were hidden among the jet-black tresses, illuminated by the blazing of the sun.

Gradually his gaze drifted from Shego's hair to her face, her eyes closed against the early morning light, and then down to how his old AC/DC t-shirt she wore. It was too large on her of course, but somehow the way the baggy shirt hung off her curves and barely covered the tops of her thighs only made her look sexier.

As he gazed at the woman that had chosen him, he felt a different kind of warmth begin competing with the torturous blaze at his back. When he did scoot closer to her, the effort not removing him from the sun as she was blocking him, he set a hand on her knee and she opened her eyes and turned to look at him.

"Why are you brushing your hair now?" he asked.

"Uh, cuz it's a rat's nest, doy," was her reply. "Unless you forgot, we took the day off yesterday and I wasn't exactly focused on how my hair looked."

Drakken thought back over their rather single-minded activities throughout the day prior. He remembered how in one moment of ecstasy, Shego had tossed her hair back and it had still fallen over her shoulders, sticking to the sweaty skin of her forehead, arms, and chest as they...reveled in their recent victory. He'd not noticed her hair becoming tangled, but only how it enhanced her natural beauty.

"It looked beautiful," he said languidly, idly caressing the soft-skin of her thigh.

She blinked at him in surprise until her expression softened.

"Yeah, well... The longer I leave it like this, the harder it'll be to brush later."

Drakken heard her, but his hand had begun wandering. He hadn't had any other intentions when his fingers slipped beneath the hem of the large t-shirt she wore, but discovering there was nothing beneath it sent his mind back to the events of the day prior, and forward to potential activities for that day.

"Shego, when you finish, what do you say to a trip to our lair in Alaska?"

When he looked back up at her face, he grinned as she seemed to be trying to ignore the now-deliberate actions of his fingers on her soft, sensitive flesh as she continued running the brush through her hair.

"Why?" she said, her breath hitching slightly.

"Because I need another day off... But away from this heat," he said pointedly.

Shego looked thoughtful, her smirk growing as she flinched when his feather-light touch beneath her shirt became ticklish.

"It's a date," she said, leaning down to place a quick peck on his lips before flipping her hair over her other shoulder to work on it from a new angle. She flinched again when Drakken's gentle caress turned into a very deliberate grope, and he smirked devilishly at the reaction it drew from her.

"Besides..." he continued, finally sitting up and tossing the blankets away in one swift, desperate move as he scooted out of the scorching rays of the sun and into the small patch of shaded relief on her side of the bed. He took a moment to catch his breath, setting his forearms on his bent knees as he tried to get air flowing over every part of his skin.

"Hmm?" Shego said, raising her brow. Drakken's gaze followed the flowing lengths of her hair and again remembered what it had looked like the day before, cascading over her bare shoulders like a waterfall as they made waves together.

He smirked at her. "We'll be making plenty of our own heat."