#that makes 4 deaths in my family in the last 12 months and it’s been a bit rough

[chronicillnesscaneffoffplease]

I’ve had a few “whoops this thing I stopped doing is actually helping me” moments recently.

I’ve felt wretched and like I was coming down with the flu recently. It felt more than my normal PEM symptoms, and I was really concerned. And then I realise it’s spring, a bunch of stuff is blooming, and it’s been sooooo windy. And I stopped taking antihistamines and my nasonex sometime last year (antihistamines bc we thought it might have been causing some side effects, nasonex bc I hate the sensation of nasal sprays and need motivation to use it). Pesky hayfever. Needless to say I’m feeling much better having restarted my regimen. I felt a bit silly that I could have avoided feeing miserable though.

I went out for an appointment yesterday in my “knock about the house” shoes that are podiatrist loathed (nil ankle support, nil arch support, worn down), rather than my lace up shoes with my orthotics. After that appointment, I thought I’d check out a new store that’s opened at the shops nearby. I ended up doing a LOT of walking at the shops and today my ankles are sooooo painful and my hips been acting up. I guess it’s good to know that my shoes and orthotics are doing good things in terms of symptom prevention (as well as better longer-term outcomes) but damn do I feel ouchie.

I’m framing it as “yay negative data also tells us important things” because I gotta remember it’s not my fault when these things happen but it is good to try learn from them. And frankly, when there’s so many things going on with your health and condition management as a disabled person, it’s okay when things fall through the cracks. It’s gonna happen. Especially when there’s lots of non-disability stuff going on too. It’s okay.

[jetii]

Upcoming Release Schedule

We’re about to reach the end of my last schedule, so I thought I'd go ahead and create a new list with what I'm working on. Below is a look ahead at the fics I have drafted and waiting to post. Feel free to send me an ask if you'd like to preview a snippet or know more about any of these. 💙

Chapters of Event Horizon, my Rex x Jedi!Reader longfic, are posted on Fridays. Requests are posted as I complete them.

Join the Taglist | Back to Masterlist | Request Guidelines

Key: ✧ smut | ꥟ angst | ✵ fluff, etc.

Upcoming Fics:

9/18 A Little More (Echo x fem!Reader) ✵✧

Summary: There's something between you and Echo, but despite your best efforts, he's yet to make a move. A night out at 79s changes everything. Words: 15k+

9/25 Few Fates Worse Than Death (Wrecker x Jedi!Reader) ꥟✵

Summary: You refused to believe that Wrecker would ever hurt you, but on Bracca, his nightmare finally comes true. Words: 8k+

10/2 In Parallel (part of the Tech x Sarad series) ✵✧

Summary: It's been over a week since Sarad has returned, and Tech is eager for some time alone to reconnect uninterrupted. If only the universe was so kind. Words: 5k+

10/9 Too Sweet (Fox x Doctor!Reader) ✵ 10/16 Too Sweet part 2 (Fox x Doctor!Reader) ✵✧

Summary: Fox has no time for romance. He doesn't even have time for sleep, let alone dates. But when a horrible day at work leads him to you, he suddenly finds himself in danger of reevaluating his priorities. Words: 10k+

10/23 By Your Name (Wrecker x Jedi!Reader) ꥟ 10/30 By Your Name part 2 (Wrecker x Jedi!Reader) ✵✧

Summary: Ever since you were assigned to the squad, Wrecker has delighted in calling you pet names in Mando'a — ana'dee, cyar'ika, mesh'la, the list goes on. Little does he know, you understand every single one of them, and it's starting to become a problem. Words: 15k+

11/6 Secrets (Cody x fem!Reader) ✵✧

Summary: After a long month apart, Cody is finally on his way home to you. And he's not going to let anything stop him from telling you how he feels. Words: 11k+

11/13 Thief (Tech x Jedi!Reader) ✧

Summary: You catch Tech stealing your lightsaber, unwittingly starting a game between you that quickly escalates out of control. Words: 10k+

11/20 Casual (Crosshair x fem!Reader) ꥟✧

Summary: You've always known what this thing between you and Crosshair is, but it hasn't stopped you from hoping he'll realize he wants the same. Words: 10k+

11/27 Ad Infinitum (part of the Tech x Sarad series) ✵

Summary: After much prodding from Crosshair and the rest of his family, Tech decides to finally propose to Sarad. Words: 5k+

12/4 The Handmaiden (Rex x Named!Reader) ✵✧

Summary: As Senator Amidala's most trusted handmaiden, you and Rex have formed an unlikely friendship while safeguarding the secret of her relationship with Anakin. When your trip home to Naboo conveniently coincides with some much-needed time off for Rex, you're determined to make the most of the opportunity. Words: 20k+

12/11 The One that Got Away (Fives x Jedi!Reader) ✵✧

Summary: After he spots you across the bar, Fives is convinced that you’re the one, even if he knows next to nothing about you. Like the fact that you’re a Jedi. Words: 10k+

Requests in Queue:

500 Follower Celebration List

[findmeinthefallair]

I hadn't spotted these a year ago:

Oh my god, guys???!!! Parallels:

2. These are the same face - the Depression Face.

It tugs at my heart like nothing else, because...

3. Oooh never paid attention to this:

4. These lil' guys were moving and animated while sleeping here, aww:

5. The screenshot below, to me, is foreshadowing that Hunter may have expressed his wish to study at Hexside...but once that wish is actually granted, he too is gonna be depressed - at school, specifically - for months, and frustrated that he simply cannot be enthusiastic about classes the way he initially hoped. He'll push and push himself and judge himself for why he "can't even" enjoy lessons he's supposed to be excited about:

6. Do you think they took Hunter to the zoo's bird hall, before he carved Waffles (I personally view it as a good element of exposure therapy)? :

7. People usually put the S1 screenshot of Luz drawing light glyphs, next to the one with Flapjack fading away...but I saw this too:

It makes me wanna chew extra recycled cardboard about Luz and Flapjack parallels, specifically. Because of what they both offered to the world, if you think about it:

8. If Camila went through an outfit change like this in her nightmare:

Imagine the mayhem of Hunter's many nightmares with his many outfits :S

9. A really good reference for how Hunter healed pre-timeskip, is this sequence, where the order has been altered a bit below:

(who knows, maybe Willow recorded a lot of vids of him on her scroll T___T)

10. Wow this sums up the show doesn't it:

11. Ugh you can't tell me that...they wouldn't have had a similar-ish mirror scene with Waffles and older Hunter to these, if we had a full S3 or more seasons:

Him approaching a mirror with no palisman beside him...I can't imagine how that was in those horrible months. (Maybe he does this before heading out to conduct a Palisman Adoption Day)

12. I feel really happy, confidently believing that he unlearned this body language:

in the presence of adults, especially his new parental figures. Coercive control wasn't a dominating theme in his life anymore. And while we didn't see it onscreen, he would've found the space to even initiate connection via physical touch with his parents, like what Luz naturally does here:

I say "physical touch" specifically, because to quote @idlescree's amazing video analyses, Hunter's own physical body - not just his mind - was the ultimate and most intimate battleground for Belos to exert control, by possessing Hunter and using him as a puppet in the most direct way possible. So for Hunter to get physically close to family to express love after Flapjack's death, in spite of terrible spooky thoughts that he might still gravely injure others...that isn't a small feat at all.

13. I think his casual sweater is a plain gold colour, and his cosplay outfit has its yellow colour: because he's still influenced by Belos.

The black of the wolf tee and in the cosplay, feel to me like foreshadowing of his post-possession grief. Even after Flapjack is gone, Hunter still thinks about Belos and is still walking around in the same cosplay outfit. His newfound freedom and healing is reflected in his timeskip design (calm midtones of orange and blue): when Belos has no more hold on him via a painful history. We would see a progression from the predominant darkness of the black colour to those peaceful midtones on his clothing.

14. Best one saved for last! It's a headcanon, but I draw a few connections. @childlikegoblinqueen and I were talking about him likely returning to the place where poor Flapjack was slain, even if it takes a number of years before he can do so. Waffles will be with him.

Imagine...instead of running frantically in the night:

he calmly strolls during a beautiful Halloween evening, with autumn leaves blowing in the wind once again:

There are no horrors awaiting him, and very importantly, he can believe that.

And he visits the spot at the lake, and puts his hand to his chest:

but for once, he can smile while doing that specific gesture. All the times that he has put a hand to his heart in the show, he wasn't smiling (link). He then leaves and then returns to his family (walking in the opposite direction of the portal above) to have an actually joyful Halloween celebration.

[lostdrarryfics]

lostdrarryfics monthly roundup! February 2024

Below you will find the requests we could not locate in the month of February. Please let us know if you recognize any!

You can also browse our lengthy lost fic masterlist, where we have compiled every request we have been unable to find over the past few years. We're always hoping someone will recognize a fic so we can let the asker know what it was!

1. looking for a fic that came out maybe between 2003-2009 on fanfiction.net. In it, Sirius and Remus are alive and dating, and they are Harry’s gay godfathers. They might give Harry a makeover. Harry and Draco fall in love, and I think that they’re still at school. Lucius and Voldemort are dating at Malfoy Manor and one of them has a thing for purses. Lucius swishes his hair a lot.

2. fic on ao3. It was a pre war drarry. Draco-centric where he befriended harry. I think it was time travel fix it, but im not very sure. Lucius and draco are arguing about Draco’s behavior and lucius smacks draco in the face. his ring cuts dracos cheek and he bleeds. Both him, narcissa, and draco are shocked over this since its not like lucius to hit draco. Narcissa yells at lucius and then tries to talk with draco in his room. Im pretty sure draco ran off to 12 grimmauld place after that and sirius and harry where there when he arrived. I think he arrives at hogwarts train with a bandage in his face. pretty sure draco was the one to get sirius out of Azkaban early

Found! 3. I read this fic a pretty long time ago, at least 5 years and I've been looking everywhere for it but can't find it. I think it was on ao3, eighth year, where Harry gets turned into a kid (around 7years maybe? Definitely under 10) and McGonagle makes Draco take care of him. Harry has big scars on his back from the Dursleys and they cause him to have seizures (? Or something like spasms maybe that are painful) fic is not The Dragon and The Golden Baby by jolly_love

Found! 4. looking for a fic I read in the past couple months on Ao3 where Harry has a menial job at Gringotts as a form of repayment. He knows his goblin co-workers pretty well but he’s not allowed to do any important work. He and Draco are tasked with opening a box that hold’s a witch’s will and the key turns out be a pendant his goblin boss is wearing and it’s revealed that he and the witch had a relationship. It was not part of a larger series and it was probably under 15k words. fic is not Reparations by Lomonaaeren

5. it’s years post war and Harry has been an auror abroad. I think maybe France? But he comes back for a case and is surprised to be working with Draco. Then he learns Draco is friends with all his friends, especially Luna and Neville. There’s a scene where Luna asks him to model for her cuz her model dropped out last min and Harry loses his mind over the photo the next day.

6. slowburn drarry fic! unfortunately all I remember is that Draco had been sorted into a house other than Slytherin, and Hermione often helped him with his anxiety being around crowds

7. Draco asked harry what would happen if the aurors come to take him to Azkaban for the use of his wand, and Harry answers that he would kill them all and them do it with Draco right there, I know that harry was morally grey but not dark harry

Found! 8. It’s an eventual Tom/Draco/Harry story. Good dark side. Harry ends up kidnapped/captive and they realise he is abused and start taking care of him. He is kept in a hotel in France I think. Dumbledore gets him back and uses a ritual to turn him into a puppet. Ginny and hermione support this. Ron eventually regrets and helps Draco let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. They reverse the ritual on Harry. Dark side wins.

Found! 9. I don’t know which year, but it’s one of the fanfictions where Harry is the Heir to like 8 different families, and Narcissa teaches him etiquette. The thing that is stuck in my head is that he uses a special knot for his tie, which represents all the families. I think he was actually introduced to the Wizengamot and voting on stuff, but I might mix that up with other similar fanfictions. fic is not Birth of the Serpent King by Keira Marcos

10. post-war fic I read on Ao3 probably in 2021 or 2022. All I remember is that Harry accidentally travels through time and wants to again (for Draco obvs) but Hermione says even his small trip caused big changes and now there's this thing called Brexit.

[verilly]

March 9th / Requiem / AVD ✶

Aqua Hoshino x Reader

This is PART ONE, check out other parts in the link below!

REQUIEM: Sixth New Genesis!

What's to come: [Reader likes both genders], [This part is a lore heavy chapter, so no Aqua content here yet...], & [This is posted on Wattpad]

[Songs of the Chapter: "My Love is a Hellfire" by SLAVE.V-V-R feat. MEIKO, "Salvage" by Rulu, "RUMA" by Karikibear]

[4,196 words]

˚⋆୨ ✶ ୧⋆˚

Today is March 9th.

Today, you assume, will be your death date, but it might not be. Even if you survive a minute past 12:00, then you would win. You win and the cycle might finally end.

How do you know? Because you have already lived 4 separate times before this. Each time, you died on the same day. March 9th. The only difference is, you have been one year older each time. 12, 13, 14, and 15 respectively.

*In your first life you were born as a sickly young girl with blonde hair, not that you had it for too long. The body was frail and as a result was stuck in the hospital all the time, but that's when you were gifted with those double digits. When you were younger, you had these three other girls that you would play with all the time. You wouldn't say you were gifted musically or anything, but it was fun pretending that you all were in a band together.

You all promised each other that you'd become an official band and make their fans smile when you got older, but they did. You didn't.

When the calendar was marked March 9th, you flatlined with your brother desperately holding onto your hand. The pain was hard to handle at first, just as how people said it was like, death was nothing but a sweet black embrace.

*Your next life, you were gifted with a healthy body, one of a peppy and pushy pink haired girl. You were somewhat boy-ish, but life was fun. That's when your eyes gazed upon the pretty idols dancing on the TV's screen: they were beautiful.

You wanted to be just like them from the age of 8, and when you turned 13, you achieved that dream and officially became one of them. You were in a group of 4, and you guys trained hard for the debut! It took months to prepare for, and by then, you had just turned 14.

You weren't in the center of the stage, but that's okay, as long as you could finally make people smile, then you'd smile right next to them. Something horrible happened when you were on the second song though. A whole stage light fell, and it fell right on top of you.

Farewell to a normal idol debut.

Your body was small, could you believe that it fully entrapped you under it? You couldn't hear or see what the audience's reactions were, nor your own coworkers next to you, either stepping away in horror, screaming or trying to help you. So...

*The life after that, the moment your blue haired body could start moving, you searched for what happened to your last self. Well, back then the internet wasn't really a thing, and Japan's news was fast paced. You never found out. This time, your father was a nice man. He owned a café and a karaoke bar! You were so lucky to have him, but you were most lucky to have your auntie!

She was basically your mother, but she moved to America once this new body turned 12. So without her, you were back to her lonesome. Of course you made a few friends... actually, you met this girl. She was really cute, and she had this extreme talent for singing! You did too, so you together decided to make a singing group to perform at your dad's café and see the smiles on the customers faces!

When you turned 14, your dad finally broke the news to you. Your auntie never went to America. She died from an illness that you never found out about, and apparently... you were the only person who didn't know. In fact, the entire town knew, and they were keeping it from you.

The town you thought was your family, all lied. You ran out onto the street in anger and with a tear stricken face, then BAM! Crash! A truck rushed into you.

*In your most recent life, you were back in the hospital. Though this time, your soul wasn't the one on the bed, no, you were the older brother, and your sister's sweet voice was taken from her. She was hoarse, it pained you to see it all, especially since she was still so young.

You wanted to make her smile, she loved musicals, so you decided you would play one out for her, and she smiled. You made that smile. After months without a single flinch of the face, you finally managed to do something extraordinary! You were 15 when you decided to make your own troupe and start making other people smile. Suddenly, your sister's condition worsened. So, on your own free will, you made the decision to undergo surgery and donate one of your kidneys. The surgery was on March 9th, can you guess what happened next?

*You've always had this goal to make people smile with music, and you still do now. You made a name for yourself as "Jasminsi." Believe it or not, you have grown somewhat of a following! You want to save people with your music, even just one person would be enough.

To be honest, you only came to this realization about a year ago. So instead of playing your life like some sort of game, you decided to try and better yourself. So, you hired someone to take care of you. She's about your age, 16, and honestly you can't help but feel that you have fallen for her.

The time is 11:05, only 55 minutes until it's no longer March 9th. It's about time for you caretaker to leave for the day. You feel safe whenever she's around, you want her to stay with you. You want to say goodbye.

You want to say something, anything—

"Alright Kazumi, it's time for me to leave," Hanae says, grabbing her coat off my newly built coat rack, "Goodnight."

"G-goodnight." you say, clawing at the kitchen table's fabric. You watched as she smiled and left your apartment, you heard her lock the door.

Oh how you wish you could've said something else to her.

You double checked everything in the house to be extra cautious. Locked doors, closed windows, unused appliances are turned off. There isn't anything in this house that could kill you.

You sigh as you trot back into the bedroom, crawl into bed and stare at the ceiling. 10 minutes had passed by, nothing was wrong. You smiled to yourself. Recently, life has been nice. You don't want to let it go just yet, you want to be someone that Hanae can love.

You have learnt a lot about her throughout the past year, how she plays the drums, she likes to sing, her favorite food is apple pie, and how her all time favorite person is an idol. Her name is Ai.

Miss Ai is about 16 years old right now, you are her age. You doesn't have a massive following like her, but what you have isn't exactly something to laugh at either. You always loved and enjoyed idols, but never in this lifetime have you truly loved one like Ai.

You can see what most people find appealing about her, but when you asked Hanae, she told you it were her—

You smell something burning, you can hear the crackling of fire. Your eyes widen as you bolt out of bed and open your door. There's a fire in your apartment, coming from the kitchen. It's already blocked the one exit. You're 7 stories high in the sky, there's no way you'd survive if you tried to jump from a window.

How could this happen? Your eyes widened even more as you harshly smacked yourself on the head, "I never checked the stove. Hanae and I were cooking a meal to get ready for tomorrow". You don't know how the surroundings caught on fire, but you hold your breath as you walk back to your room. You check the clock, 11:55.

Five minutes, and it'll no longer be March 9th. The cycle will end and you might be free. Either way, this life will mean nothing. You're trapped. The fire moves quickly, the light reflecting off your eyes as you grips your bedsheets. The heat already hurts, tears threaten to roll from your eyes.

Eyes.

That's right. Hanae's most favorite thing about Ai were her eyes. You really like them too, they are quite beautiful. Maybe if you had those, Hanae would have fallen for you as well.

The fire envelopes your body, out of all the deaths, this is the most pain you have been through. You cry out in pain, no words, just screams. You're sure someone could've heard her. You can feel the skin on your body melt off of you, while you're still conscious you try to avoid the pain to the best of your ability by staring at the clock.

The clock strikes 12 as tears roll from your eyes. It's no longer March 9th. You fall to your knees as the fire sways inside of you.

ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵃ ˢʰᵃᵐᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵐʸ ᶜˡᵒᶜᵏ ʷᵃˢ ⁵ ᵐⁱⁿᵘᵗᵉˢ ᵃʰᵉᵃᵈ.

˚⋆୨ ✶ ୧⋆˚

Hanae shakes as she runs back to the apartment complex, she had forgotten to turn off the stove after making a nice stew for you. By then, an hour had basically passed by.

Her eyes widened in terror as her eyes trailed up to where your apartment sat. It had been set ablaze. Not only the it's surroundings, but slowly making its way to the homes next to it.

Hanae dropped to her knees, parallel to how you dropped to yours as you were engulfed into flames. Hanae's soft, perfect knees fell onto the pavement as her precise hands quickly rummaged through her bag to find her phone.

She dials *1-1-9 as she speaks in a shaky voice: "H-hello? I'd like to report a fire."

-End of March_9th

You open your eyes once again, the cycle continues. The woman holding you had a soft look on her face, you could tell that you were going to be gifted with amazing genes.

You were born with [hair-color] locks and gleaming eyes, eyes that were just like Ai Hoshino. You guess that the world really did feel bad for you. Your parents, Juria and Mihiro [last-name], were kind. You did well, without them knowing, you had your fair share of no-limit internet time. Catching up on all that you missed.

Though, the only goal you really had in mind was to find Hanae again. Of course you couldn't say that directly to anyone, you can barely move your stubby little body around crying out loud!

Both parents were teachers, so they didn't have a lot of time to spend with you. You were chucked over to a nanny who barely did her job. Luckily for you, you have the memory and knowledge of a recently deceased 16 year old, and 4 others for that matter. All these thoughts stuck in a small little baby's body. If you wanted to, you could've become a child prodigy, but it's not like your family had the resources or outlets to get known even if you were one.

You sat watching the TV for hours on end since you didn't have a phone to use. No phone meant no internet, no social media. However, if you were lucky, the babysitter would leave her phone out when she fell asleep on the couch. Easy for you to open the blue birds app.

You still remembered your password from your previous alias, "Jasminsi", so you used it. Apparently Hanae had remembered the password too because she made a post saying that you passed away on March 9th during a tragic house fire.

There hadn't been any updates on the account since.

The stars in your eyes shone bright as you went through the numerous people giving me their condolences, you thought it would be best if you didn't interact with anything like that. You wouldn't want people thinking Hanae was a liar.

You had your mind set after your past failed attempts at living. You still want to make people smile through music, and you want to survive another March 9th. You want to break this chain of events.

But for now... You can just sit back and relax. Watch as things go on in the real world.

You are [name] [last-name], and this is your new life... and you're gonna make it worth your while.

˚⋆୨ ✶ ୧⋆˚

You've always had a gift for music. Whether it's keeping with the tempo, singing, creating songs, mixing, or playing on a toy xylophone. You decided that since you had time, you would make your own brand. Quite ambitious for a 5 year old, but you need something to do. Plus, you had the brain of a high functioning 16 year old and a few other lives.

Since a few years ago, there's been a rise of internet celebrities, and a good chunk of them have kept their real identities a secret. You're aiming to be one of them.

You can be an idol, a virtual idol. Which, after hearing the tragic incident with Ai, it's the safest option you could think of for creating content that would make people smile.

Onto the drawing board you go, you need to test what this body could do. If you could sing, you'd be set.

"Yureru faiyaa sakebu furai hai atashi somarereba," You sang, facing the mirror, watching your lips move instinctively, "Futari no shiawase toka tsumoru jounetsu wo ageru wa..."

It was a simple melody, a song that has stuck with you since the depths of fire swallowed you whole. Hanae loved this song. Back when you were frail and small, but not anymore. You decided to keep that in mind whenever you needed sympathy points.

˚⋆୨ ✶ ୧⋆˚

You started your channel off when you were 8, you still had free reign over all your devices. At first, it was videos on how well you could draw. Then it turned to small animations. Then you posted your first ever video of you singing. Clearly it didn't gain any attention, but it was a starting point.

The older you got, the higher the quality of your videos became. Soon, you encountered a new phenomenon.

You felt as if you were running out of time. You're 14 now, and you're an internet-obsessed-shut-in-teenager, in other words being a 'hikikomori'. This isn't how you planned for your life to go.

You posted cover after cover, hoping somehow you'd make it big. You'd only gotten about 17 thousand followers on your Twitter account and about 2/3 of that amount on your YouTube.

That's when you found out about your fathers heart failure. You felt sad, but your mother had become a shell of her old self. She cried for days on end, but you only felt sadder because you didn't feel the way she felt. You couldn't feel her devastation. The loss of a father, no, perhaps you had too many fathers to feel any connection, even if he may have been a good man.

However, you made a song out of that feeling, you basically used your mother. You're glad you did. That song got over a million views in less than a week. Of course those numbers kept going up and up. Soon enough, you were making revenue money off of it. You thanked your mother and sent her back home to her real family, somewhere in the countryside of Japan. Were you cruel for that? You assumed as much, yet you felt this was best, for your mother and for you. You had a goal to achieve.

This wasn't your first time living alone, you could handle it all. Now you could spend all your time making music and living it up! *Song after song, you were breaking milestones again and again. Even with simple covers. People here thought that 300 thousand was amazing while you sat on your high and mighty throne of a million.

Not only that, you've officially become what you dreamt of being. *You officially became a virtual idol as well, the model you used for streaming was absolutely beautiful. You were a [fantasy-creature]. An absolute goddess of music. You were so happy and impressed that you got to this point in so little time. The name was [alias].

You don't think your eyes have ever been brighter!

You are now a world renowned faceless singer that everyone in Japan has heard about at least once. Heck, even people from other countries have talked about you. You've seen their support in your comments.

You still have to go to high school though, and maintain a social life even when you haven't dared step foot inside of middle school in this lifetime. You were smart enough to pass into any school you wanted, you just had to choose which one.

You set your sights on Yoto High School, it's divided into two sections. One for general academics, and one for talented celebrities and influencers. People like those get spots in famous companies right after graduation, usually, so it would be nice to spend some time with them, but you decided to dedicate your fame to staying faceless. So you went with the general program.

You're now 16 again, and you're finally stepping into school after three years. Your uniform is freshly cleaned thanks to the work you've learned from Hanae and you can go on with an average high school life while secretly being an influencer.

-End of Requiem

You were assigned to class 1-D in the general course. Though, as you passed the gate, you saw many famous faces. From actors to models, the variety was huge. On the other hand, the people in general education were mostly chill. The girls styled their hair to fit the latest trends to stand tall and fit in with the famous people surrounding them, and the boys were... boys.

You sat in the back of the class, taking these very needed steps into the real world were very hard for you, especially since you've barely had any contact with strangers for the past 16 years. You wouldn't say that your body was weak, but it did come to your attention that you had inherited your 'fathers' heart defect.

You smile as people start flooding into the classroom, however, one person caught your eye. A tall boy with messy, but somehow at the same time, tamed blonde hair. What really caught your attention were his eyes. Just like yours, he had a star embedded into his right eye. Someone like you, that's rare.

Fortunately for you, he took the seat next to you. So, as a first step, you decided to make your first conversation of the school year. You suck up the anxiety growing in your stomach and turn your head towards him, "Hi there," he turns his head to face you. His eyes widened, almost as if he's seen a ghost, *"I noticed your eye there, it's really cool, just like mine☆!"

"Yeah... they really are just like yours." He smiles, "My name is Aqua Hoshino, what about you?" The star in his eye grew dull, morphing into a slightly darker gray.

"My name is [name] [last-name]," You let out a small smile as you give him your hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you!☆" He looked down at your hand, contemplating for a second before shaking it, "Would you like to take the honor of being my first friend?"

"Gladly." Aqua nodded, you let go of his hand first. The eye contact was uncomfortable to say the least. He just kept staring into your eyes, you looked away as you sweat. You couldn't understand what was going on in his head, but even if he wanted time to pause and keep examining you, class started soon.

You sat back on your chair, sitting straight as you opened a page of your newly bought notebook as you waited for the teacher to start class. Even then, *You don't think Aqua stopped staring.

˚⋆୨ ✶ ୧⋆˚

School was never something you liked going through, especially since the start of social media. Luckily for you, having lived 5 other times has really come in handy for education. For example, in your first life, the time spent at the hospital was full of studying since you didn't have anything else to do. As of being in grade 10, *you've been taking the general course, and you're on pace, just like the average majority in Japan. You did need a back up plan if becoming an internet celebrity wouldn't work out after all.

You scanned the classroom around yourself, your classmates had already made their friend groups, though, they were probably just clinging on the ties they had from middle school. This would be the perfect time to jump in to make friends, otherwise, there would be no time for you to make any more anymore. The girl who was sitting next to you had jumped out of her seat to confront you with a smile on her face.

"My name is Eruru Osawa," The girl with short magenta colored hair stated, "I went to Matsushita Middle School! I really like your phone's case, I think it's really pretty!"

"O-oh! Thank you, Osawa." You smile back, "I bought it at the mall a while back, I think that [color] really suits me, what do you think?" You stutter out awkwardly, the energy this girl emitted from her small body was crazy overwhelming.

"I think it fits great! I love the star theme throughout it, it matches your eyes!" She smiled, pulling a seat to sit next to you, "You know, I've never seen someone with eyes as unique as yours! Well... there was this one girl on this poster I saw a few years ago... I can't seem to really remember her name though..."

"Ai?✶" Your eyes gleamed.

"Yeah! I think that was her name!" Eruru jumped out of her seat, hands balled into excited fists, "Ai! What a wonderful and pretty name!♡" Eruru's shouting seemed to have caught the attention of the blonde next to you. You could feel him stare again.

"Ai was an... idol. She passed away over a decade ago though. The story was absolutely horrifying, you should really look into it before you make any hasty decisions on becoming an idol- ★If you ever wanted to of course." The stars in your eyes darkened as you rest your head on the palm of your hand.

"Oh... well, I wasn't really planning on becoming an idol anyway" Eruru sighed, a smile still on her face, "There's a family business calling to me! Even if I have 3 other older siblings that are all runner ups, but... I have hope that it'll be passed down to me!"

"That's nice... I'm glad people still have hope." You sink down onto your desk.

"Oh, didn't you bring lunch?" Eruru tilts her head, taking out a box from her bag, "We could share if you want!"

"Huh? No it's alright, I have my own lunch." You lied.

"Well I have some candies here!" Eruru sifts through her pockets and grabs out a handful of candy. She tossed them onto the desk, she had a real variety: toffee's, lollipops, gum, sour candies, even a whole apple, she had it all. "Take any you want!"

"Oh, I'm fine Osawa-"

"Hey, could I get one of those?" Aqua asked, dragging his chair to my desk, it was getting quite crowded. "The gum's fine." Eruru smiled brightly as she handed him a piece.

A few minutes of lunch passed, it was in complete silence, not one you would consider enjoyable but Eruru soon broke it for you. She whispered in your ear, all smiles as usual, "[name], I think that Aqua likes you! He's totally staring! Hehe!♡"˚

-End of A_Vauge_Discommunication

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[wardenparker]

Sassenach and the Spaniard - ch 13

Pero Tovar x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst​

Delirious with sickness and near to death, Pero Tovar finds himself on the doorstep of a village outsider who nurses him back to health just before the winter snows descend. With a black cat for company, a mask on her face, and a biting wit that intrigues him, Pero comes to find out that his new companion is more than what she seems.  ✨  Inspired and influenced by Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. ✨ Reader is described as disabled and having hair long enough to cover part of her face.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ just like this blog Word Count: 24.9k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this fic include cursing, food mentions, references to previous sexual assault (multiple characters).** Extremely Emotional Pero (EEP!), Pero versus technology, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (referenced), biting. Mention of suicide (theoretical).  Summary: The long awaited reunion of our soulmate pair is not without its dramatics. Notes: Great big giant bear hugs to everyone for being so kind and supportive while I was dealing with covid! I’m so, so glad to be back and to return to my beloved Soulmate Sundays. I hope this chapter was worth the wait!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12

When the time comes, Cabello is packed down with supplies with a heavy heart. Pero feels as if he is being torn in two – yet there is no question what his choice must be. The life he has established here with his adoptive family or his soulmate. He must journey to the Stones to see if he can make his way to you. The babe is growing, sitting up and recognizing him with coos and squeals when he comes in from the fields with Briac or when Arwena brings out a large stone jug of cool spring water to quench their thirst. The house is repaired, the fields starting to bloom again, and it is time for him to leave.

Even the colder months are not so cold on the Valencia coast. The farmhouse is cozy and its inhabitants welcoming the morning slowly when Pero comes back inside to say his final goodbyes. Baby Perito is cooing happily in Arwena’s arms as Binx curls protectively around the young mother’s feet. Briac is minding the porridge over the fire, but he stands when the door opens.

“The horse is ready.” Pero admits, wishing that he did not have to leave, that he could take all of them with him. “I should leave to get to the boat soon.”

“You should not delay.” Arwena tells him, though she cannot keep the thickness out of her voice. She wishes that you could come back to them here - to this beautiful life they have made in Spain - rather than lose both of you to the Stones. But she knows that Pero belongs with you as surely as the sun belongs in the sky.

“I know.” His own heart is heavy and he’s delayed putting back on the protective leathers so he can hold Perito one last time. “Give him to me.” He insists, walking over to her and the babe.

“He is full of joy this morning.” She has no hesitation in handing her son to the warrior - seeing only a babe in his grandfather’s arms and nothing else. “I think he knows that you will be happy again soon.”

“I have been happy here.” Pero protests, never wanting her to think that he was unhappy living this life with them. He just wasn’t whole. He never would be until he is back with you, if he is back with you again.

“Sí. But you will be happier when you are with her again.” Briac does not take it as judgment or any type of statement against the life they have built. He would not be happiest without Arwena and he knows that Pero feels the same about missing you.

“Hola, bebita.” Pero carefully takes the child and immediately is cooing at him. It has been a joy having the little one around and he has learned a great many things about a child, including how messy they get. Still, the namesake of his never fails to bring a smile to his face.

Perito squeals and giggles, reaching for his abuelo with one tiny hand and wiggling fingers. The habitual scowl on the older man’s face makes the baby laugh.

Pero will let the child pull and slap at him as long as it doesn’t happen to Wena. He knows that the child can be rougher with him and he is just a baby. “You are going to be a handful for your mamá.”

That makes Perito giggle again and Arwena laughs in turn. “He will have the whole orchard to play in, and we will make sure he has siblings to pass the time with.” She is glad for this morning to come for Pero’s sake, but so terribly sad to see him go. “His first sister will be named for her. It has long since been decided.”

“She will weep.” Pero predicts, knowing that you would have loved watching their - your - family grow. “Just so you know. Just like I wept.” The day Perito had been born and named for him, the warrior had shed tears of joy and humble gratitude.

“These are for her.” The stack of letters tied up with string are mostly her thoughts and musings from the last few months. They are words of love and hope, and even sometimes melancholy. Arwena presses them into Pero’s hands with a smile. “I know you will deliver them faithfully.”

“It will be something that is given to her as quickly as possible.” All of them know that first will be the reunion between soulmates, but he will not forget it. Nor would you let him.

“You have enough food to last you? Enough herbs to make your tea?” Since Pero has no talent with fire, Arwena has made him a potion that would provide him warmth from the inside and taught him how to brew it himself. “It will grow colder as you journey north.”

“I do.” Pero nods, aware that he has made fires the normal way without magic for his entire life, but he knows Arwena worries. He looks to Briac. “I– I wish for you to carry my sword.” He tells the man he looks on as a son. “Pass it to Perito when he is old enough to lift it.”

“How will you journey without it?” His eyes widen and his throat tightens, gratitude and pride making his chest puff up to hold the boundless swelling of his heart. “Padre, I am honored, but you must be safe.”

Shaking his head, Pero motions towards the table where his weapons are still laying. “I will have my axe. I will be safe, I wish for you to carry it as you have decided to carry my name.”

“I will do so with pride.” Briac swears, not hesitating to embrace the man he has come to love and respect as his chosen father. This parting will be much harder for Briac in many ways and Arwena steps aside to let the men have their moment to say goodbye.

It is more gentle than it would have been if the baby hadn’t been between them. The back slapping covers the raw emotions of the moment. “He will know fine stories of his abuelo,” Briac promises, caressing his son’s forehead tenderly.

“And his abuela.” Pero smiles as he wishes that you could see this baby.

“And his abuela.” Enough good words could not be spoken about the woman who saved his soulmate’s life, and Briac knows that Arwena will always sing the songs you taught her and carry your magic through to their children.

There is one last kiss to the baby, a move that never fails to make Arwena smile - the sight of such a gruff mercenary being soft for her child - and Pero hands the boy to his father. “Come give me a hug, girl.” Pero huffs at Arwena playfully.

“Insolent man.” Arwena laughs to mask the tears, practically falling into his arms to embrace him. “So gruff with your daughter.”

Despite his gruff tone, his arms are like steel around her, holding her close. “Cuidar a nuestro familia.” Take care of our family. Pero whispers in her ear. He has made it known around the village that the land and the house is theirs, knowing the elders will respect it.

“Siempre.” Always. She nods against his chest, letting only a few tears fall there. She will save the rest for after he has gone, when she sits before the fire and holds little Pero. “Everything we are is thanks to you.”

“Te amo.” Pero murmurs, leaning back and gazing on the face of the girl that has come to mean so much to him. The one you loved like a daughter or a sister. “Siempre.”

“I will love you always.” Nothing could ever shake that truth from her. It lives in her very bones and the air that she breathes. “You and Sassenach gave me the courage to command my own life, and I hope to God that you will live out the rest of your years together as joyfully and freely as we will live ours here.”

“If I cannot….” Pero breaks off, unable to speak it for fear of it coming true. “I will return.”

“You will always have a home with us.” As desperately unhappy as it would make him to not be able to reach you, she would always welcome him back with open arms. “And if one day you should return with your wife by your side, we will welcome you both.”

“Aye.” Pero nods again and leans in to kiss her check gently. Emotions are thick and if he stays too long, he will weep. “I should get my leathers on.”

“It will be a long journey. The more daylight you have to get you to the port, the better.” Arena wipes her eyes and steps back, giving him the space he needs to move around. “I know you have thought of what you will say when you see her,” she hums as she takes the baby back from Briac. “But…what do you think her time will be like? Can you imagine it?”

“Foreign.” Pero worries about that. Wonders if you will hate him being in your time, encroaching on your freedom and having him rely on you for everything. At least until he learns to navigate your strange time.

“She spoke of her home being very beautiful.” Sensing she has struck a nerve, Arwena immediately vies for the positive. “Warm and sunny all year long.”

Pero shrugs, knowing that it will not be Spain. He wonders if it is close in temperature. “I will find out when I make it to her.”

“We will pray for you.” Though Pero has already said his goodbyes to the priest that has come to mean so much to their family, Briac has invited Malcolm to be with him and Arwena that night for supper to mourn the departure of their friend together. He knows they will pray together then.

“I know you will.” Pero is still not as spiritual as Father Malcolm would like, but he has respected the religion of his birth. “I am grateful.”

“All will be well.” Arwena rocks Perito in her arms and offers the elder Pero an assured smile. “I can feel it my bones.”

******

Without the small family he has made, the journey is miserable for Pero Tovar. He doesn’t sleep as well as he does, hearing the baby stir or Briac and Arwena murmur softly from their room. Lonely for the first time since he had awoken at your hearth, recovering from an illness which would have ended him, he endures the rocking of a boat that he hates, wishing he was at the Stones already.

It takes weeks to get to the Stones, and the carefully portioned out food stores that he has traveled with have kept both him and Caballo strong despite the misery of the journey. His horse is gone now, though, left at the inn in Inverness where he stopped for an ale before venturing on to the Stones. If he does not make it through to you, he can collect Caballo that evening and begin the long journey back home to Spain. If he succeeds, the innkeepers will have gained a trustworthy steed.

There is an air of anticipation, a tingling in his belly that he would have considered nerves if it weren’t for his years as a mercenary. He’s worried, that’s what he tells himself. Worried that he won’t make it through, or he will and you will have died. That is his worst fear.

The sound of buzzing fills his ears slowly but steadily. Something you had spoken of so long ago but he had all but forgotten in the haste and panic of his last trip to this place.

The wobble in his step has to be the uneven ground, the unsteadiness to his gait attributing to the way that his heart races. Sweat trickles down his brow, despite the snow on the ground. He watches, listens to the surrounding woods as he creeps towards the Stones.

The wind kicks up, a determined gust that seems to urge him forward and sweep him toward the center standing stone. The place he last stood with you in his arms, and the place he had knelt and wept so fiercely after losing you. It has been a year since then, though sometimes it feels like mere days and others it could be an entire lifetime.

His bag is slung over his shoulder, dagger at his waist and his axe is strapped to his back. Sure that he would not need them because of what you had told him about your time, he still cannot risk leaving himself exposed and unable to defend himself. He sees the faint bloodstains still present after a year and he exhales softly. “Sassenach…bring me to you.” He murmurs softly, reaching out to touch the stone that had brought you to him, and taken you away.

******

The pair of hikers stopped to rest on the top of the hill where Craigh na Dun stands hurries over when they see the crumpled form of a large man in dirty clothes amongst the Stones. “Sir!” The smaller man’s heavy Irish accent is not altogether unfamiliar to Pero’s ear though it has been nearly two years now since he last laid eyes on William. “Are you alright?”

Pero feels like he is about to throw up as soon as his eyes open. Shaking his head and blinking at the pair of people in strange clothes, he chokes out a sound of surprise that he has done it. “What year is it?” He demands roughly.

“Uh…it’s 2022…” The Irishman’s companion has a flat and deep voice, coupled with a concerned look of confusion on his face as he creeps closer. “Are you feeling okay, mate?”

“Where is she?” Pero demands, your name nearly bellowed as he stumbles to his feet and starts to spin around to gather his bearings. “Sassenach!”

“There’s nobody else up here.” The Irishman tells him, one cautious hand pulling his friend back from the odd and potentially dangerous stranger.

“Where is she?” Whipping around, Pero sends the Irishman a withering glare. “I’ve traveled too far to lose her now! Where is she?”

“Where is who?” He probably should just step away and leave the man to his own devices, and the Irishman shrugs. “Whoever you’re looking for isn’t here, mate.”

Sharp pain rips through Pero’s body, especially his face. Growling, almost shouting, Pero hunches over with one hand over his face and the other reaching for his dagger. “Arrrrrghhhh!”

“Dude…” The Irishman’s companion winces to see the scar rip its way across the stranger’s face. “You…you have a hell of a soulmate,” he grimaces at the idea of being stuck with a facial scar.

It takes him a minute, the leaves crunching underneath his feet as he sways. The pain eases and he blinks several times before Pero starts to laugh maniacally. Tossing his head back and barking out a harsh laugh as he drops back down to his knees again. Relief makes him unable to stand another minute as he realizes you are alive and he is still your soulmate in this time.

“Okay, uh…you have a good day, man.” The hikers retreat as quickly as they can, now determined not to get tangled up in whatever this madman is up to. That’s plenty enough weird for them today.

Traveling through time is disorienting, and thirsty work. Pero is parched, climbing to his feet to stumble towards the small river that had been near the Stones. He needs to find you, but first, he needs to drink.

The stream is much smaller than it once was, running downhill toward the city of Inverness with all its modern delights and busy occupants. There is barely enough to scoop into his hands, and the warm summer sun couples with a lack of snow to tell him for certain that it cannot be winter that he has arrived in.

“The water is different.” Pero huffs, shaking his head at the taste but he is thirsty enough that he continues to scoop up the water until it slacks off, sighing as he wipes his hand on the back of his bracer and stands to truly look around this new world for the first time.

Cars whiz by on a nearby road, the commotion more noise than he had heard since the battlefield. The sight of Inverness and its loch are completely transformed into an enormous city of twinkling lights even in broad daylight. It is a remarkable and unbelievable sight.

He is a fish out of water. Completely thrown out of his element and the only thing that makes him feel relatively normal as a sound in the sky makes him look up to see a strange bird racing overhead is the axe in his grip. Overwhelmed and overstimulated by everything around him, Pero scowls and keeps his head on a swivel as his boots slap against the hard trail with strange markings.

The horseless carriages you had told him about are far faster than you had said - or at least than he could understand. They zip around him and blast their ear-piercing alarms at him and some of the men inside even curse, until one seems to begin to chase him specifically.

Pero’s gaze is over his shoulder as he hustles faster. Watching the strange thing you had called ‘car’ stop abruptly and turn around to zoom back towards him. He speeds up more, nearly running when he hears it get louder, looking over his shoulder again to see it gaining on him.

“Pero?!” Sarah rolls down her window, calling out the name she memorized months ago and hoping he will stop running as she pulls her car to a stop on the side of the road. “Pero Tovar!” She had just gone out to run an errand. A rare errand that took her outside the city - to a particular music shop that carried the specific guitar that would be Hadley’s birthday present in a few days. She had never expected to actually see this man who might supposedly come through the Stones one day.

Pero turns, axe firmly in his grip. “Who are you?” He snarls, squaring his shoulders as if he was about to battle the Tao Tei again. “How do you know that name?”

The broadest grin in the world spreads across Sarah’s face as she jumps out of her car and gets a good, long look at the scar running down the man’s left eye. “My name is Sarah,” she tells him, keeping her distance because of the weapon. “And I…I know your Sassenach.”

At the strange woman’s words, his guard drops, shoulders slumping and his axe swings down to his side. Anyone not familiar with the weapon would have chopped their leg off, but the handle just bangs against his thigh. “Where?” He chokes out, stepping towards her almost desperately. “Where is she? Is she safe? Her illness….how long has she been here?”

“My god, you’re really real…” She laughs out of sheer disbelief, practically cackling with glee and waving him toward her eagerly. “She is safe, and recovering at home. Please come with me?”’ She motions to the car behind her. “She asked me to look out for you before she went home. It was six months ago.”

“Six–” Pero shakes his head, unable to fathom the difference in the way time moves. “How long had she been gone from this place? When she returned?” He warily glances at the strange carriage she wants him to approach. How do they work that thing? He had seen fantastic things at the Wall, but this is beyond his belief.

“Only a few minutes.” Sarah admits, taking a cautious step forward. She needs him to trust her if she’s going to keep the promise she made to you. “I own the inn that she was staying in on her visit.”

Pero narrows his eyes at the strange woman in front of him. It is almost too convenient that someone who knows you appears almost instantly. “Is this some kind of test?” He demands. “How do I know the woman you speak of is my Sassenach?”

“Did she explain to you what a cell phone is?” Pulling hers from her pocket, Sarah is prepared to call you in Florida right on the spot. It is barely past seven in the morning for you, but she doesn’t think you will mind being woken up for this.

“A magic box.” Pero narrows his eyes even more at the strange thing, jumping back slightly when it displays a strange light and a portrait on its face.

“Aye,” Sarah can’t help but laugh lightly at that. “A little. It is a device that does many things. It will allow you to speak to her. To see her right now.”

“Show me.” As much as he distrusts that magic box, his desire to see you outweighs it. “Conjure her.”

“You have to come closer.” Still she unlocks her phone and selects your number from her recent FaceTime list. The last time you talked was just a few days ago - sharing tea together across the ocean while you told her about more things you found in your grandmother’s grimoire. The phone begins to ring as they wait for you to pick up and Pero inches closer with great caution.

“Sarah?” Barely awake, wrapped in a light robe over your chemise as you wipe the sleep from your eyes and wait for the coffee to finish brewing, you aren’t even looking into your phone screen when you pick up. “Is everything okay? It’s early.”

“Sassenach.” Pero whispers in awe, eyes wide as he stares at the portrait of you. The fact that it moves, that he can hear you is pure magic itself. He can’t tear his eyes away from the profile of your face, his heart bursting that the first sight of you, hearty and hale, that he has seen in over a year.

“Pero?” You nearly drop your phone but manage to hold it up higher, tears instantly springing to your eyes when you see him standing beside Sarah and hear the sounds of traffic in the background. “You—how? I–I—can’t—you’re really here?” There aren’t words in any language or any time to express how shocked and overjoyed you are all at once as you stutter at him over the phone.

“How–” Pero’s eyes shift, begrudgingly, away from the magic box and he looks for you to appear around the woman holding it. “Where are you– come here.” He chokes out. “Sassenach?”

“I am far away, mi amor.” The hand not holding your phone reaches out, wishing you could touch him. “But I will come to you as quickly as I can. The very first flight to Scotland that I can get. I swear.”

“I’ll keep him safe,” Sarah promises, knowing that that is the most important thing she can possibly do now.

“Thank you, Sarah.” You’ll be in her debt forever for this, and you don’t ever care. Not for a second. “Mi amor, please stay with Sarah. I—” The way you shudder with fresh sobs makes you cover your mouth, showing him that his wedding band sits firmly in place on your hand where he placed it in Gretna. “I am in Florida. The place across the sea that I told you about. It will take a day for me to get to you.”

Pero frowns and shakes his head, unhappy that he must spend another minute away from you. He had expected you to be here when he came through the Stones. “I do not understand–how?” He huffs, pouting that you will be so long to get to him. “A day?”

“I’m going to get on the first flight to Scotland,” you promise, already aching that you can’t be with him immediately. That he came after you and you weren’t there waiting for him. But he came after you. You know he wouldn’t leave you. “Do you remember that I told you once about great carriages that fly through the air like birds and you laughed and called me bruja?”

“You are a bruja.” Pero nods, his fierce pout slightly relaxing and he glances up to the sky before he looks back at the box and leans in. “I think I saw one, Sassenach. It looks very odd, shiny like a blade winking in the sky.”

“Yes!” The sound and sight of him makes you feel like you could fly yourself right across the ocean even without a plane, and you carry your phone with you as you hustle through the apartment to throw some things into a bag. “One of those will carry me across the ocean to get to you, and we will ride one together to come back to Florida.” He’s here. He’s here. He’s actually here.

“A day?” Pero demands. “No more? It has been a year since you disappeared from my arms.” He takes a shuddering breath. “I–I tried, mi amor, the Stone would not let me go through before I learned magic. I did not leave you. I did not send you back alone on purpose. You– you were dying.” He chokes out.

“You learned magic?!” Once again the phone nearly drops from your hand but you catch yourself in your shock. “I want to hear everything when I get to you, cariño. I will be there as fast as I possibly can be. Please go with Sarah for now. She and her soulmate will keep you safe. Sarah knows our story. I told her everything after I left the hospital.” Sinking down on your mattress, you sigh softly and reach for him again, wishing you were already in front of him. “Mi amor, you saved my life. The doctors said another day or two and it would have been too late.”

It’s ugly, the way Pero scrunches his eyes closed to keep from crying. His choked sob at being right is relieving him of the guilt he has carried for you going back despite your plan to stay. He hadn’t failed you. He must sway on his feet because a hand touches his arm and he nearly jumps again. “Yes.” He manages, opening his eyes and blinking away tears to see your face on the magic box again. He wants to see you, for real, to touch you and pull you into his arms. “I will do what you ask.”

“I will send messages to Sarah letting her know how close I am. How much longer you will have to wait.” If only you could send yourself through a text message. You would do it instantly no matter the danger. “I’ll be there as quickly as I can, mi amor, I swear it.” A long, drawn-out breath leaves you and you search his face, just so grateful to see him again. “Love…how long has it been for you?”

“A year.” Pero wants to reach out to touch your face, but he is scared that it would make the box’s magic stop working. “There is much to tell you.”

“It’s been six months for me.” You sigh again, smiling softly. “Arwena? Briac?”

“They send you their love.” He promises, his heart aching because he knows they will never see each other again, but he is here with you. He had done it. “I have many letters from the girl.”

“You will not believe what I have to tell you about her. Or show you.” Blindly tossing things into the open bag on your bed, you smile at him and wish to god you could wrap your arms around him. “Te adoro, cariño. I will be with you as soon as I possibly can be.”

“I have missed you.” Pero murmurs softly, ignoring the woman who is listening in with apparent fascination and studying him like he is an unknown creature.

“I have missed you, too, amor.” More than you can possibly say. Your fingers flex again, but your smile only grows wider. “A day, love. No more. I promise you.”

He grunts, unhappy with the prospect of having to wait, but there is nothing that he can do. “I will wait.” He huffs.

“I love you.” They’re simple words, but unwavering and unfailingly true. “And I will see you soon.”

“I will take care of him,” Sarah promises. “Hadley will feed him and I’ll set him up in a room. He’ll be just fine.”

The picture cuts away and Pero is left feeling unsure, shuffling slightly and bewildered that he can be talking to you one moment and then you are gone. A car flies by the pair of them standing on the road and blasts noise out as it passes, making him jump and re-grip his axe. “Mierda.”

“You must be overwhelmed.” Sarah observes gently, tucking her cell phone back into her pocket. “Things now are very different from when you are from. But…if you’ll trust me a little like she’s asked? I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

"I–" He would do anything that you tell him, his trust in you complete and if you say that this woman is to be trusted – he will believe that. "I do not know what you need from me." He confesses, unsure of those car things that are flying around at the speed of an arrow. You want him to get inside one?

“For now, let’s start with having you get in the car and I’ll bring you back to the inn.” Sarah sidesteps to open her car door to let him see inside, figuring that the whole thing must be fairly terrifying. He knows nothing of this world, yet he came here anyway. For love. “My soulmate, Hadley — She’s an amazing chef. I don’t know much about time travel but strange things always make me hungry. Food can be comforting, ya know?”

Pero grunts in acknowledgement of that universal truth. He had been too nervous to attempt to eat before making his way to the Stones. His frown is permanently etched on his face as he examines the inside of this car and he looks over to the woman for a confirming nod before he tries to climb inside.

“Excellent.” Sarah breathes a sigh of relief before reaching in to point out the seatbelt. “Do you see this strap here? If you pull it across your chest there is a device at your hip that it fits into. The buckle on the strap just clicks into it. For safety.”

He thinks about the gear that the Cranes would wear on the wall. To prevent them from falling to their deaths as they leapt out into the space. Confident that the ropes and hoops would hold them and bring them back up. Only the monsters accounted for the bloodshed during battles there. He grunts and yanks on it, frowning even more when it yanks back and refuses to completely go around him.

“Careful.” Quickly climbing into the driver’s side of the car, Sarah reaches across to help him with the seatbelt and smiles when it clicks into place. “There are lots of things these days that you have to be gentle with.”

His eyes are darting around the car, trying to absorb things that he doesn't understand and there is a moment when his axe is dropped on the floor of the tiny box that he is in and his hands fly for whatever he can grab when the demonic thing that he is in lurches forward suddenly.

Thankfully, the drive to the inn doesn’t last long. Pero clearly despises it and Sarah is eager to get him out of sight - although in a car like this he just looks like a man in a costume. “Hadley!” She calls, herding the ancient mercenary into the brick walls of the inn. “Honey, you’re not going to believe this!”

It is a house, Pero recognizes that but that is where his understanding of the building ends. It's strange, completely different from what he knows. Bright with a light that is whiter than the flicker of a fire and there is this strange noise that fills it. A humming or a buzzing like bees are around. He stays quiet, nervous and on edge as he tries to remember everything you had told him about your time.

“Mo chridhe?” Hadley’s head pops out from the kitchen as soon as she hears her wife’s voice, but her eyes go directly to the man standing nervously behind Sarah. “Oh my god…”

Pero shuffles, eyes flickering between the two women as he stands there. They are lovers, married if the rings on their fingers are any indication, and while Pero doesn't care about what they do it's surprising that they are allowing him into their home. Perhaps it is not shunned in this time like it would have been in his.

“Mo grá, he came through the Stones today.” Sarah beams, urging Pero toward the kitchen with a huge smile on her face. “I’ve already called our friend. She’s on her way, so she should be here tomorrow. Pero…” she looks up at him and there is nothing but awe and excitement on her face. “This is my wife, Hadley. Hadley, this is Pero Tovar.”

"Wife." Pero nods, looking towards the other woman and shuffles forward. He cranes his neck and looks around again, feeling out of sorts and his mouth is dry. "Buenos dias." It seems as if they are the only ones in such a large manor and he wonders if they are wealthy.

“Buenos dias.” Hadley nods, swallowing thickly as she tries to shake off the surprise and awe on her face. “You—you must have a lot of questions.” She knows she does. She can only imagine he has more. So in true Hadley form, she pulls out a chair for him at the little kitchen table and immediately starts bustling around to cook something.

He doesn't know what to do so he stands there until Sarah motions for him to sit. Shuffling over, he sets the axe down on the small table with a thud and the seat groans as he plops down into it. The other woman, Hadley, opens a door that makes Pero gape. Strange things fill it although he recognizes a few vegetables. "I–what is that noise?" He demands, unsure of where to start but there is a louder buzzing noise now that has him looking around the kitchen.

“Oh!” Sarah grins, realizing that this is about the giddiest she’s been since the week she married Hadley. This is the most insane and unbelievable thing that has ever happened. “It’s the dishwasher. Erm…a device that washes our dishes for us, so that we don’t have to do it by hand.”

"Device?" Pero frowns, unfamiliar with the word and he looks around the strange room. "Where is your hearth? How do you cook, heat water for this device?"

“Did she ever explain electricity to you?” Hadley asks, knowing that you had said that you told him more than you should, but not exactly what.

"The strange magic that allows fireless light and 'power'?" Pero asks, frowning again, wondering how he will ever adapt to this time if he knows nothing about it.

“Exactly.” Nodding, Sarah decided that - all things considered - it probably isn’t too early for a drink. “This is a refrigerator,” she explains, opening the fridge again to grab two bottles from the door. “It keeps things cold without needing ice. Would you…uh, she said you like ale?” Sarah asks, offering him one of the bottles.

Pero eyes the bottle, strange and small with writing on it before he looks up at her. After a moment, he nods. "I do." He wonders how electricity would allow things to stay cold without ice or snow.

Sarah twists off the bottle cap and offers it to him again, hoping that a small show of hospitality might help things along. “Electricity is everywhere in our time. Some people even think it has taken the place of magic in a lot of ways, but I don’t know about that. The fact that you’re here…that is real magic.”

Pero takes the bottle, staring down at it when it is cold to the touch despite it being warm outside. "Magic is useful but only for some." He agrees, sniffing the contents before he brings the bottle to his lips.

“It has served my family well enough.” Sarah smiles, taking a sip from her own beer. “I might not have magic, but my ancestors did. Some of them, at least.”

Pero nods, relaxing slightly and looking at the bottle again. The ale tastes different from what he is used to, but it is refreshing. "That is good." He grunts, turning it up again and draining it quickly.

Both women chuckle, and Hadley grabs another bottle for him. “Your wife said you like spicy food,” Hadley poses, hoping to continue to make this extraordinary man feel more comfortable. “You must be hungry?”

The cold ale slides down into his belly and Pero nods. "Sí, spicy food warms you from the inside." He murmurs, taking another sip of the new bottle. "Gracias, I know that I am a stranger to you. How many coins for the food and drink?"

“She was heartbroken to come back without you.” Sarah tells him, remembering how many tears you had shed the night you sat with her in the library. “She knew you would not have left her willingly. There hasn’t been a single day she hasn’t thought about you, Pero. I promise.”

"It took a long time to learn the magic I needed to come through the Stones." Pero bites his lip, looking down at the bottle and wondering how much you told these women about your time in his world. Even though he has not seen much, he can tell that it is completely different.

“She’s so glad that you did.” It would have been obvious to anyone, the awe in your voice and the way you lit up hearing his. Seeing his face for the first time in months. “Tomorrow when she gets here, you two can stay as long as you need. There are things about this world that I’m sure she’ll want to teach you before you decide to stay.”

“I–have a coin.” He promises, pull a small pouch from his belt. He won’t let you care for him in everything. He can help.

“No, please.” Sarah shakes her head, though she has not stopped smiling. “We will settle any debts later. But I have dreamed of meeting you since your wife first told us you might arrive. I’m so glad you’re here.”

His brow pinches in confusion, unsure why the woman would want to meet him. “Sassenach has to travel, so I am here until she arrives.” Pero murmurs to himself. “What shall I do?” It’s not uncommon to have him help for his lodging. Chopping wood or hunting. It is a strange place but there must be something he can help with.

“Would you be willing to tell us your story?” Sarah thinks of the stacks of journals and cases of photographs and other evidence in her study - her entire family’s collective effort all in one place. It’s pretty much the only thing in the study. “I have hers sets down…her story of traveling to your time, but mostly of you. It would be wonderful to have both sides of the story.”

Pero frowns, wondering what you might have said about him. Worried that it might not be very good, considering what he is. "What would you want to know?"

“Anything you are willing to share.” Sarah takes a sip of her beer and reads his concerned expression before shifting to give him her full attention. “You can listen to her story if you want to hear her voice again. I recorded it. Which is…like preserving the memory of her voice in an object you can play any time you like.”

"Sí." His agreement is immediate, almost slightly desperate. "I–it does not feel real." He explains, confused by his own thoughts. "She is not– I could not touch her. Yet I could see her, hear her." He will not fully relax until he is touching you again.

“We call it technology.” Hadley explains, though she knows the word will mean nothing to him. “That is the magic of our time. Science and technology.”

Pero is not a learned man, but he is smart. He had to have his wits in order to survive as long as he had. Nodding, he tucks away the strange words to ask you about later. "I see."

“For now?” Sarah offers him the most supportive smile she can. “Know that you’re with friends. Safe. And with friends.”

Reminding himself that you had said he could trust them, Pero nods again. Hadley is still rushing around the kitchen and he looks to Sarah. “Can I tell you while I eat? I am hungry.”

“Of course.” No matter when he is ready to tell his story, Sarah will be ready and eager to hear it. “Do you mind if I record you too? You don’t have to do anything but talk. The recorder will take down everything you say so I can write it down later.”

Pero nods again, unsure of what it means to record, but he will trust your judgment. You’ve never steered him wrong. “Yes.” His stomach grumbles slightly at the smells that are filling the kitchen.

Hadley’s spicy Szechuan noodles with veggies and chicken is a quick and easy recipe that she modified from an old friend, and she knows from Sarah’s replaying of your tapes that Pero spent time in China - so when she piles three bowls high with the delicious dish and brings them to the table she’s glad to see him perk up at the scent. “‘Ere we go.” She smiles happily but fixes Pero with a serious expression. “If you don’t like it, I won’t be offended. We have plenty of other food about to fix for you.”

“It smells good.” Pero insists, reaching for a bowl greedily. He frowns at the metal object in the bowl and pulls it out to inspect it. “What is this?”

“Forks look different now,” Sarah grins. “Three prongs instead of two. And you don’t have to carry them with you. Any place you eat will provide them for you.”

Grunting, he’s suitably impressed. This time must be very wealthy. He bites it and then pulls it out of his mouth again. “It is not silver.” He murmurs, not quite finding it to be steel either.

“Silver is rarely used these days.” Sarah tells him with a shrug. She’s just as excited for spicy Szechuan noodles as Pero seems to be. “Only the very rich or old-fashioned use it. These are a combination of steel and…aluminum, I think? That’s what most people use now.”

Humming, Pero examines the fork carefully. He has used one exactly three times in his life, all while being treated at a lord’s table. The rest of the time, he ate with his dagger or his hands. “No doubt you are very rich to have these.” He compliments before he starts to dig into the noodles.

The women smile at the compliment, deciding not to get into the mechanics of the distribution of wealth right now. “We are lucky to have our own business and for it to be doing well.” Hadley praises instead, knowing how hard Sarah works.

Pero isn’t listening, instead he is hunched over his bowl, having a moment with the food. Reminding him of some of the flavors he had in China, his eyes are closed and he is letting out a groan that is nearly obscene.

“Hadley’s food is amazing.” Sarah offers the praise right back to her wife and takes advantage of the moment to sneak a photo of Pero enjoying his lunch to send off to you. “Pero,” she says his name to catch his attention when she checks her phone. “She’s boarding the plane now. She’ll be here very, very late tonight.”

“Plane?” He searches his memory. “The thing in the sky.” He nods and motions to Sarah’s box. “Did she write you on that?”

“She did.” Sarah turns her phone around to show him the text message thread. “It is like…letters that can be sent instantly through the air.”

“Magic.” Pero huffs, shaking his head and dives back into the food like he has not eaten in months. His mood brightens at the prospect at seeing you again.

******

The flights seem interminable. St. Augustine to New York is just a little over two hours, but from there it takes another ten hours to get to Inverness. A rental car at the airport takes more time than you had hoped, but it’s late at night so you just decide to be grateful that someone is even working the rental desk. You feel like you’ve been shaking since Sarah called you this morning, so unbelievably excited and nervous to see Pero again that you could almost explode. The drive from the airport to the inn is negligible, thank god, and you pull into the small parking lot beside the building much faster than is probably safe. At this point he is mere steps away, and Sarah had texted you his room number so you could sprint past the front desk and straight upstairs as soon as you get inside.

Top floor. Top floor, room in the corner. Room 315. Standing in the hallway you have to force yourself to stop and breathe, barely holding back overwhelmed tears as you knock softly on the door.

It takes less than a second for Pero’s boots to thunder across the floor and the door is snatched open. The fierce scowl on his face freezes and the dagger that is in his hand clatters to the floor. “Sassenach.”

“Pero!” Your bags drop from your hands and the tears are instant as you practically fling yourself through the door to wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his chest like you’re trying to burrow as deeply into his body as humanly possible.

After several hours alone in the room he had finally felt comfortable removing his leathers so he was in just his breeches, boots and tunic. Groaning at the warmth of holding you again, he feels whole. For the first time in a year, he is complete again. His own tears spill hot, soaking into your hair as he breathes you in. “God, Sassenach, I– you’re–” he chokes out and crushes you to him.

“You’re here.” You breathe, sobbing into his chest just as desperately as he is into your hair. “You’re really here.”

“I am sorry.” He breathes out, needing you to know that he never wanted to send you back on your own. When he made the decision to take you back to your own time, he put aside his very valid fears for your sake. “I tried, amor, I tried to come with you. You disappeared from my arms.” He sobs, breaking down again for the first time since that night at the Stones.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Nudging him backward into the room, you barely glance behind you to drag your bags in too, then pull the door shut and turn the lock. Alone with Pero in your own time. This is the moment you have been dreaming about for the last six months without fail. “Mi amor, you saved my life.” Wrapping your arms around him again, you let him get out every tear he has to cry. “You are my savior. Mi angel. I would have died if you hadn’t been brave enough to get me to the Stones.”

“Mierda.” Pero chokes out, eyes red and tears wetting his cheeks as he pulls back and cups your cheeks. “Te amo, te amo, te amo.” He promises, lunging forward and pressing his lips to yours desperately.

“Te amo.” It is absolutely surreal to be in his arms again, and you feel like you could burst apart from happiness at being able to kiss him again.

He can’t stop kissing you, again and again as he tries to convince himself that this isn’t a dream. He had tormented himself several times over the past year. Dreams so realistic that he had woken up angry that you weren’t in his arms.

The two of you stumble together, clinging to each other and refusing to separate for so much as a breath. He had said it was a full year for him, and if your own six months of heartbreak without him are anything to go by, he has been in hell just as you were.

“I–” Pero pushes back towards the bed that takes up a large portion of the room. He has to touch you, he will feel like he’s going to die if he doesn’t. “Amor–” he groans, his hands starting to roam, although he doesn’t have easy access like he did when you were in his time. No skirts to lift.

The way you giggle against his lips is music to his ears, even when you stop kissing him momentarily to drink in the sight of him in front of you. Electric lights, modern furniture, and Pero Tovar. It is very literally your fondest dream come true. “Modern clothing is harder to get into than just throwing my skirts up,” you tease, popping the button on your jeans and drawing down the zipper so he will not have to wrestle with them to get you out of your jeans.

He grunts, huffing at you as he starts to kick off his boots. He knows he needs to clean up, bathe if he can figure out how that happens here, but he doesn’t think you mind right now. “Skirts are better. Easier to make you squeal.”

“I’ll switch back to dresses immediately.” Flats, jeans, and blouse are all gone in mere moments, desperate to have the feeling of oneness back that always comes from intimacy with Pero.

He doesn’t care about what you wear, he cares you are here. The eagerness that he has for you is the result of not having you for the last year. He had grown very used to being in your bed and between your thighs. “Hermosa.” He whispers, pushing his breeches down to reveal the threadbare underclothes you had stitched for him.

“You still have these?” It’s surprising to you that they survived, considering you were never the best seamstress in the world.

“Of course.” He scoffs, surprised that you would even question it. You had given them to him. They were one of his most precious possessions. “I have kept them.”

“Pero…” Your hands caress his face, thumbs dragging down the line of his jaw as you look up into his eyes. “I don’t care when or where we are, mi amor. But I never want to be without you again.”

He swallows, his own head immediately bobbling in agreement. “Never.” He agrees, his voice lowered to a rough whisper. “I–I lost my scars. I didn’t know if you–” he chokes up slightly, clearing his throat.

“I lost mine too.” You had realized in the car on the way to the airport that what you had thought was a weird Charley Horse or some other odd pain this morning was actually your scars coming back. His scars coming back. “Te amo, mi amor.” You promise him, stepping forward again to press your lips to his.

Your lips on his ignites a fire inside him. The hunger for you flashing to the boiling point and Pero wraps his arm around you to turn you so that you fall back into the bed with him braced over you.

Crashing down into the bed is like being transported, and suddenly you’re back in the little stone cottage in Brittany without any concerns beyond each other’s pleasure. Your hands grasp and wander, reminding yourself of the shape of him. He tastes the same - of memories and joy and every good feeling in the world. “Pero.”

Your name pours from his lips as he starts to frantically kiss your body. Every inch he can reach while his hands squeeze and massage your breasts. Desperate to reacquaint himself with your taste and sounds.

Every inch of fabric is torn away, every inhibition tossed aside in the desperate need to feel each other again. Your fingertips trace every mark on his body, memorizing them all over again and each moan loosed from your lips is swallowed up by the constant stream of deep kisses shared between you.

He would prepare you, treat you like he had so many months ago as you were discovering each other’s bodies, but he is too frantic for you. “Lo- siento.” His cock slips between your thighs easily and he ruts up against you.

“I’m not.” The low chuckle from deep in your chest makes both of you smile even momentarily, but it’s cut off by a moan when he grinds against you again. “Please, Pero — fuck.”

“Tu serás mi muerte.” You will be my death. Pero groans, reaching between you so he can line up. It’s been a year and he knows he won’t last but he can’t wait another second to slide inside you.

You’ll apologize to Sarah in the morning for making a racket, but the utter bliss of feeling him inside you again has you gasping and crying his name, nearly sobbing again in relief. There is nothing like this feeling - it is coming home again.

Pero’s eyes would close if he did not want to memorize your face again. Teeth clicked together to hold onto some semblance of control while he growls out your name. “F-fuck.” He hisses, unable to hold still, rocking his hips while he is buried as far as he can go in your body.

“D-don’t—” You gasp out, fingers digging into his back to hold him close and feel his heartbeat against yours. “Don’t hold back, amor.”

Permission granted, Pero goes crazy. Lips, teeth and hands all working in tandem while his hips start to furiously move. Feeling like an untried boy with his first tumble, he gasps and groans as you take him.

Meeting his rhythm might be a challenge if you weren’t also so damn frantic for him. Six months without the touch that makes you feel whole means that you don’t hesitate to bite your nails into his skin or bruise his neck, sucking on his salty skin and making sure he will bear your mark for days to come as you rock your hips in time with his.

“Madre de Dios.” Mother of God. Pero’s body lurches forward when you are just as aggressive as he is, just as frantic. All the worries, the fears that you wouldn’t be happy he was in your time dissipates in the frantic pace of his uneven thrusts.

It could have been five minutes or five hours. All that matters is that you are wrapped on him again, panting out his name as you climb closer and closer to a shattering orgasm. Nothing in the world could be as perfect as this - no dream of your reunion ever came close to this reality.

Now Pero squishes his eyes closed, body tense and primed to cum. Overwhelmed by the euphoria coursing through his body. “Sass– fuck, fuck!” He pulls you with him over the cliff, desperately tangled in each other and pouring everything you are into a kiss as the two of you cum together, shaking and shattering in each other’s arms.

Shuddering and gasping, Pero pours himself into you. His very soul fusing with yours in an interwoven pattern that would never be unknotted.

“Te amo.” You cling to him, eyes open like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you shut them even for a moment. “Te amo para siempre.” I love you forever.

His arms stay pushed under your back, holding you close as he says against you. “I love you.” He murmurs, turning and tucking his head into your neck, hot tears fresh in his eyes. “I– alma gemela.” Soulmate. “Amor de mi vida.” Love of my life.

“Mi esposo.” My husband. With your arms wrapped around him, you hold him close to your chest and blink back more tears as your heartbeat returns to normal.

It takes a long minute, but eventually he manages to shift off of you. Reluctantly pulling out of you with a groan and curling up against your body, unable to stop touching you.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here,” you murmur, well aware that you lost your temper at several airline employees to get across the ocean as fast as humanly possible.

There is a moment where he huffs, pulling back to frown at you as if you are crazy. "One year, amor." He grumbles. "It took me a year to get back to you. What is a day? We are together now."

“Forever.” You lean your forehead against his and sigh. “I tried to get back to you, amor. I went back to the Stones but they wouldn’t let me through.”

“Loca.” Crazy. He huffs, pulling you close. “You – you almost died.” He murmurs quietly. “I would rather you be in your time and alive, than dead in mine.”

“I don’t want to be without you.” The fact that he saved your life is something you will never forget, and if your roles were reversed, you would have done the same for him. But months apart have proved to you that you are no longer your full self without him.

“I am not leaving you, amor.” Exhaustion hits him like a wave now that you are in his arms. It’s been a very long day and he has been on edge. “Never. You will have to send me away.”

“Never.” He lies on you heavily, a feeling you relish and remember fondly. “Sleep, my love. We can talk more tomorrow.”

“Stay.” He murmurs sleepily, eyes already drifting close. “Be here when I wake.” The plea is soft, breathed out as his body relaxes.

“Nothing could drag me away.” The promise is murmured against his temple as you lay a kiss there, letting your eyes close a moment after his, at peace for the first time in months.

******

Pero jumps, reaching for his absent dagger when there is a noise that is foreign, dragging him out of his exhaustive sleep. Gasping when he feels someone next to him, it takes a moment to remember yesterday. He had made it, you were here and in his arms. Instantly settling him like nothing else could.

“Sorry.” You mumble, peeling your eyes open at the sound of your alarm. You had taken off of work for a family emergency, but forgotten the simple things like shutting off your daily alarm on your phone. At least your jeans are close enough to the bed that you can just reach over and grab the device to shut it off.

“Are we…under attack?” He asks, looking around in bewilderment. The blaring had sounded like a horn, a signal for a battle to begin.

“No, amor.” A soft chuckle bubbles through you and you turn back to Pero to wrap him in your arms. “I have to wake up at a certain time each day. The alarm wakes me.”

He groans, frowning slightly as he wonders why you have to awaken so early today. Instead of asking, he burrows into your arms, the doubt of his future here already intrusive this morning. The dream hadn’t helped.

“What’s wrong?” You may have only had a few months together in his time, but you know that groan. He is upset and trying to mask it with grumpiness.

“Nothing amor.” The last thing he wants is to make you wonder if he is unhappy being with you again. “The noise hurt my ears.”

“You’re a poor liar, Pero.” Tipping your head back lets you look him in the eyes, and you bite your lip in concern. “Talk to me?”

Staring at you for a long moment to see if you will back down, he blows out a breath when you don’t. “I had a dream.” He admits, rolling his eyes as if it is of no importance. “It…rattled me.”

“A dream of what?” It must have been something vivid to make him so upset this morning.

He knows he won't be able to distract you. Pulling away, Pero rolls to his back to look up at the ceiling. The whitewashed walls are a stark contrast from the thatched roof of the home he had left to come here. "Your time is different, sí?" He asks, not expecting an answer. "I– I could not learn how to be here, to live and you–" sighing softly, he closes his eyes. "You wished I had never come here."

“That will never happen.” You can promise him that without hesitation, and draw him close with one arm around his waist. “If you are unhappy here, we will try to return through the Stones together. It is as simple as that. I meant when I said that I do not care where or when we live as long as we’re together.”

"I– I want to try to live here with you." Pero admits quietly. "You have suffered so much in my world." The fear of you being attacked again or being branded a bruja again is enough for him to want to stay.

“It is very different.” To pretend otherwise would be an outright lie. “But if you are unhappy here, I would go back with you. I don’t care. I only care about staying with you.”

"I have only been here a day, amor." Pero murmurs. "We don't know if we tried to go back when we would be there." The idea that Briac and Arwena would be dead or elderly breaks Pero's heart.

“Would you like to see some of my world today?” If he wants to stay here there will obviously be adjustments to make, not the least of which will be clothing. “If it sounds like too much, we can just stay here at the inn today.”

“No.” Pero shakes his head, aware that he cannot hide away. “I do not wish to hide from your world, but I–I look strange here, sí?”

“We can get you some new clothes.” Fingers brush his hair from his forehead and you leave a kiss there in its wake. “I told you about clothing shops once. Merchants who sell ready made clothing.”

“I had believed you to be joking.” Pero admits, shooting you a sheepish look. “Since your sewing skills are poor.”

“I never had to sew my own clothes,” you shrug, knowing the idea of shops for everything will completely boggle his mind. “We will see if there are any modern clothes you like.”

He frowns, unable to even imagine it. “I will wear whatever you choose.” He tells you, knowing that you would be able to better decide.

“We will find you something.” Ducking your head, you press a kiss to his chest and offer him a soft smile. “I heard you liked Hadley’s cooking yesterday. Do you want to share a shower and we can go downstairs for breakfast?”

“It was good. Like the food I had at the Wall.” Pero grunts, feeling better now that he has talked to you. This time is strange to him, but it seems as if you have settled back into your world with no issue.

“Come, amor.” Sitting up, you tug on his hand a little to get him to follow you. “We can share a standing bath and I can give you your first pieces of modern clothing.” The layover in New York had been short but given you the chance to think - and you had grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of jeans that you hoped would fit him.

“Standing bath.” He hums, admitting that it sounds nice, cleaning up. He had been nervous about things and hadn’t even looked to see where the chamber pot was.

“I think there are some things about this time that you will enjoy.” Leading him into the bathroom, you point out the sink, toilet, and shower and explain all three of them as best you can. “Indoor plumbing. It keeps things clean, and homes smell far better.”

“I– this room was here behind the door?” He asks, eyes widening as he looks around. “Is that the chamber pot you were talking about?”

“You can sit right on it, and there is paper just there to clean yourself. Just press down on this button when you’re done and it all goes away.” Modern technology will take quite a bit of getting used to, but you know Pero can adapt.

He’s doubtful but he reaches over and pushes the button, jerking back slightly when the toilet starts to flush. Frowning to himself as the water swirls in the bowl. “Mierda.”

Trying not to laugh, you can’t help but bite back a grin at his reaction. “It can’t hurt you. It’s just water.”

"It disappears." He huffs, looking at you as if you are the crazy one. He looks back down at the bowl and almost reaches out to press the button again. "It is a chamber pot, sí?" You nod and he gives a small shrug. "How do I piss in this?"

“Stand and aim at the water.” Oh, introducing him to this world is going to be infinitely entertaining. “Or sit and aim down. It is up to you.”

He huffs and cuts his eyes at you, sensing he is being teased. “Hush woman.” He grumbles, sidling up to the bowl, his bladder is active this morning already.

“Remember, you missed me,” you tease, slipping out of the bathroom quickly to grab your toiletries from your carry on. The miracles of dental hygiene were a wonder to rediscover and you still can’t wait to brush your teeth every day.

“Of course I did.” Even as he is relieving himself, he calls out to you. Aware that even with your biting tongue he has missed you. Maybe because of it.

“I missed you, too.” You promise him when you reappear - toothbrush and toothpaste in hand and your other things spilling out on the countertop. “Life is…incomplete without you.”

Pero nods, accepting that to be true. After all, you had come to him when you learned he was here. “What is all that?” He asks, motioning towards your bag.

“This time values cleanliness,” you explain, lining things up for him to inspect after he flushes. “Here.” Turning on the sink startles him slightly but you pump a little hand soap into his hands and put them under the tap. “Most soap is liquid now. Lather your hands with that and they will be clean and smell of perfume.”

Pero frowns and brings his wet hands up to sniff. “Everything smells like rich lords?” He huffs, wondering if his smell offends you now. It had been too cold to bathe before he got to the Stones.

“Sort of.” It makes you laugh to hear it put that way. “When we get home we can find a scent for you that you like. One that isn’t so…lordly. They make things that smell like the woods that I know you would love.”

“I wouldn’t mind smelling like a lord.” Pero concedes before he scowls. “As long as I am not as stupid as one, I will be fine.”

“No one could accuse you of being stupid, mi amor.” Quickly brushing your teeth, you explain the concept of toothpaste and mouthwash to him and concede that it does sound a little odd but it feels very nice, so Pero tries the mouthwash you have and ends up sitting it out in disgust after just a few seconds. “It takes getting used to,” you laugh, pressing a kiss to his lips and raising an eyebrow at him. “Do you think we can manage a shower without fucking?”

“You are naked.” Pero growls, shaking his head as he pulls you close. “I thought you told me how you loved the idea of fucking under your warm waterfall?”

“I absolutely do love that idea.” And you won’t deny it for a second, especially not when he growls like that. “It was an honest question, not a judgment.”

“I want to clean first, but I want you again, amor.” He will admit that easily. “I miss our bathtub.” There had been times that the water had been reheated several times while you and he had lazily made love in the tub.

“I have a large one in the apartment in Florida.” The one here at the inn is small - too small for that kind of activity - but you don’t mind right now. You have a lifetime with Pero. This just proves it.

"Apartment." Pero rolls the foreign word around on his tongue and wonders what it means. Instead of asking, he turns towards the glass of the shower and grunts. "There is a lot of costly glass in your time."

“It is not so costly anymore.” Reaching in, you turn the knob and watch the water explode from the heads built into the wall. “And we have something called plastic now. Which is like an imitation of glass, and much harder to break.”

Pero's eyes widen, filled with awe as he watches the water cascade down into the small little room beyond the glass. Unable to have imagined your 'shower' until right now. "Mierda." He shakes his head, eyes flickering around the room to find where the water comes from. "I don't understand."

“There is a pipe inside the wall.” Stepping inside to show him that it’s safe, you offer him your hand to help him inside. “The pipe brings water from a heating tank through the inn, and it comes out through here,” you explain, pointing to the shower head with your other hand.

He has questions but he doesn't want to waste the hot water. So he climbs inside the glass room with you, immediately letting out a filthy moan when the hot water hits his skin. It's hotter than any tub of water he's ever bathed in and it feels amazing.

“A warm waterfall.” It had been the best way you could describe it to him and you happily let him sink against you under the hot water.

"You can live in this room." His eyes slip closed and he rolls his head back, sure that he actually died and this is his version of heaven in the afterlife.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Pressing a kiss to his chest, you will happily hold him for as long as he wants to stand here and enjoy the hot water.

"Better with you here." He promises, turning his head and pressing his lips to your temple and leans his head against yours. "Are you ready to make me smell like a rich lord?"

The shower does devolve a little, with hands wandering and pleasure for both of you, but when you eventually shut off the water and climb out you’re relaxed and ready to start the day. “I brought you some modern clothes,” You tell him, handing him a fluffy towel from the bathroom shelf and taking one for yourself. “I don’t know if they’ll fit you well, but I kind of had to guess.”

He feels cleaner than he ever has in his life, layers of skin seemingly stripped down until he practically squeaks. He does smell flowery, but he doesn’t mind it because you smell the same. Watching in fascination as you rub something under your arms, he takes it from you and sniffs it, frowning but lifting his own arm then switching to the other to copy you. “You have no hair under your arm anymore.” He realizes. “Or on your legs.”

“No.” Last night had been far too frantic for any kind of inspection, but you had readopted shaving about a month after returning to your own time. “It is the fashion now. And it’s what I’m most used to.” Worry creeps across your face though, and you bite your lip. “Do you hate it?”

“No?” Pero frowns and sets down the deodorant. “Do I need to do it too?” He asks, glancing down at his legs and wondering how you got your skin so smooth without cuts. “It would take a lot of passes with the dagger.”

“No, amor.” That makes you giggle, and you lead him out into the bedroom to pull his new clothes out of your bag. “It is the fashion for women. You have nothing to fear.”

“Good.” He grunts, feeling a little awkward. “It is fine if you like your legs hairless. I do not care as long as you are happy.”

“Just as long as my cunt still keeps its hair?” You smirk slightly and hand him the fresh jeans, boxers, and t-shirt before grabbing clean clothes for yourself.

“You would have that bare too?” Pero’s eyes widen and he looks down to your cunt before his brow lifts, trying to imagine it. “Truly?”

“Some women do. Some men do not like hair there or use it as an excuse not to give a woman pleasure with their mouths. But I know you do not feel that way.” It’s a pain in the ass to keep up with, but you had done it in the past for other lovers. At this point the other thing you care about is that Pero is happy, so if he wanted to experience it then you would shave for him happily.

That makes Pero scowl. “They have hair on their ass don’t they?” He huffs, shaking his head at how weak men are in this time. “What does hair have to do with eating a woman’s cunt and making her cry in pleasure?” He smirks and steps closer to you. “What do you say?”

“Honestly?” Even having him step closer with that sexy little smirk highlighting his love dimple makes your throat run dry. “You never had any trouble eating my pussy before now, but if you’re curious I’ll shave.”

“I should eat it now.” He rumbles, eyes darkening slightly. “So I can see if there is a difference with it bare if you want to show me.”

“Would you enjoy that?” Your panties are in your hand but are already being tossed aside before he can even answer you. Apparently fingering you until your legs gave out in the shower was not enough for him.

“I am a hungry man.” Pero growls, reaching for you and dragging you over to the bed that feels like a cloud. “Your cunt is a feast I have missed.”

“We might never leave this room today.” Not that you mind, not with your legs opening automatically to let him lie between them or whatever else he wants to do.

“That is fine with me.” Pero smirks down at you as his fingers caress both of your knees, shuffling between them. “Everything I need is right here.”

“We have lost time to make up for.” His year apart from you has made him hungry and you can feel anticipation tingle through you completely.

His grin is wicked, dangerous as he ducks his head down and bites your knee before starting to kiss up your thighs. Breathing in the clean, fragrant scent of you. He had fucked you and fingered you so far, now it was time to eat you.

Pero has always had a predatory edge to him that you found sexy rather than alarming, and it all comes rushing back to you with hot cheeks and a rapid pulse as he sucks bruises into the insides of your thighs on a slow descent to his prize. His ability to have you panting and begging is uncanny, and you squirm underneath him in delicious anticipation.

“I’ve never savored a meal the way I savor you.” He groans, burying his nose in your curls and inhaling your scent. Cock already throbbing but he’s going to do this. Needs to like he needs air. Greedy, his tongue darts out to carve through your folds.

Your sharp gasp makes him chuckle, the filthy sound of being utterly pleased with himself rumbling through you when he’s barely even begun to taste what you have to offer him. One of your hands threads through his damp hair readily, knowing he likes it pulled tight as much as you do, and grinning when he grunts and opens his mouth wide to seemingly swallow your entire cunt whole.

It doesn’t matter what time Pero is in. You taste the same. Feminine and musky, better than his favorite ale or his beloved cheese. If he could survive off of your cunt alone, he would do it. His fingers dig desperately into your hips and drag you closer.

Anyone within about twenty yards of your room could instantly guess what is going on inside but you just can’t bring yourself to care right now. Not when the only thought you can manage to have in between gasping his name or cursing vividly is how much you’ve missed him. It’s a miracle that Pero managed to get through the Stones and not one you’re apt to take for granted - and because of that you will be happy to stay in this room all day if it means being devoured by your soulmate’s talented tongue.

There is a rhythm to your pleasure. The way your hips roll tells him how to keep time. His groans are filthy as they pour into you and he loves every gasp and cry of his name. Soon he will have to do something else, but for now, this is his only task.It's impossible to think that you only had a few months together so many centuries ago - the way he knows your body should speak to an entire lifetime of pleasure. It's like you hadn't missed a single moment, bodies rising and falling together in that bed as he licks into you over and over again.

Eyes fixed on your face, Pero watches. Watches the way your lips part on a gasp or your teeth sink into the tender skin of your bottom lip when you think to stifle your sound. He watches the way your eyes flutter under your lids as you writhe in pleasure. His tongue flicks over your clit again, wanting to watch as you fall apart for him again.

There is nothing subtle or understated about the way he devours you. Pero's focus is entirely on pushing you over that last edge of pleasure now, and there is obviously no gap in his memory of how to do so. His lips curl into a satisfied smirk just before your eyes clamp shut - head tossed back on a cry of his name as you fall apart beneath him.

There’s always a moment right before your thighs try to close around his head. One where your entire body shudders and nearly lifts off the bed. The edge right before over stimulation and Pero groans into you when he feels it again. His tongue easing up as you gasp and moan, slowly circling your clit to bring you back down to earth.

"Fuuuck." You couldn't do anything more than collapse right now even if you wanted to, legs still shaking just a little and gorgeous aftershocks shooting through your system as Pero places soft kitten licks and kisses everywhere he pleases.

“Mmmm.” Pero lifts up, shuffling up the bed to lay down beside you and his arm easily drapes over your body. “Now that I remember what you taste like, you can cut your hair off and I’ll see what bare cunt tastes like.”

"I doubt it will taste any different," you giggle, rolling your eyes at him as you curl into his side. This is the only place in the world that you want to be right now and you're so grateful that you have this chance again. "But you can have as many tastes as you want, amor."

“Good.” Everything is right when you are in his arms and he sighs softly. “Show me the clothes you brought me?” He asks, knowing he can’t wear his breeches and tunic around town.

"You want me to move after you make me cum twice in twenty minutes?" Grumbling at him is only teasing, of course, but you throw him a playful pout as you reach for the stack of clothing on the bedside table. Boxers, Jeans, and a t-shirt that will hopefully fit him well enough to go out and try on an actual wardrobe. "These are only temporary. If they're not comfortable for you, we will pick out other things at the store today."

“Do you have enough coins to purchase such things?” He asks, frowning as he holds up the jeans. It is a strange type of cloth but it seems sturdy.

“Yes.” Standing up, you grab your own panties again and slide them on, before looking back at him cautiously. “I have lived with careful finances for most of my life, and have a job that pays well.” Not well enough for all the bullshit you have to deal with, but you’re very comfortable. “While you are adjusting to life here, I can provide for you. Though I know you well enough to know that you will not allow me to do it forever.”

Pero frowns and nods. “I will trust that you will not take on too much.” He murmurs, knowing you will share if it becomes too much. There is too much between you now. “I will try to ease your worries wherever I can.”

“I would not feel safe with you living the life of a mercenary or soldier in this time.” It’s a lot to admit, but knowing that a lot of his former standard practices would now be considered war crimes? It just doesn’t sit well with you. “There are many paths you can choose now, amor. You can start fresh. Be whatever you choose to be.”

His lack of learning still worries him and he frowns. “What would I be able to do?”

"Anything you wish." Cost be damned, you would make sure that Pero has the opportunities in this lifetime that he never could have had as a medieval farmer's son. "Even get an education, if you wish. There are even special educations you can get for certain jobs. Training. Instead of apprenticeships, we have training programs now for anyone who wishes to join."

His brow raises and he nods. “That is very - anyone can do it?” He whistles, knowing there were many titles he could not hold because of his birth or lack of wealth. “Interesting. I could become a huntsman.” He offers, knowing he would be able to hunt any game for a wealthy lord in your village or surrounding lands.

"There is not much call for huntsmen anymore." Slowly getting dressed, you smirk when Pero watches you put on your jeans with intense interest. He's leering a little, yes, but he's also learning the new garment. "But to be a butcher is a very good occupation. Or to work on a farm or a ranch, if that is what you want to do." Offering him your best and most encouraging smile, you throw your shirt on over the ultra soft bra you packed and grab your sweater. It may be July in Scotland, but that's a hell of a lot colder than July in Florida. "You don't need to rush the decision, love. Let's just enjoy ourselves today. How does that sound?"

“Sí.” Pero nods, his own clothes going on much slower and you have to help him with the button of the jeans when he huffs in frustration. “Do I walk barefoot?” He asks, wiggling his toes in the new socks you made him put on. “These are your shoes?”

"You can wear your boots under the jeans." They would be well hidden from view, and only look slightly out of the ordinary if someone decided to pay extremely close attention. To the casual observer, he's just wearing leather boots. "I had absolutely no idea of your shoe size, so I decided not to guess."

“Shoe size….” Pero frowns and then shrugs it off, pulling the shirt over his head. At least the tunic is familiar, although tighter than he was used to. “How does it look?” He asks, holding his arms out for you to inspect him.

"You look very handsome." It's not an exaggeration in any way, shape, or form because he is always handsome. Is it slightly odd? Perhaps. But that is through no fault of his own. It is because you lived essentially naked with the man for months on end in the cottage. "Come and look in the mirror. Tell me what you think."

He had been startled when he discovered the costly looking glass in the room. Having it make him reach for his dagger a few times when his reflection was captured in its view. Pero dutifully walks over to you and turns, much more interested in looking at you, although he does stare at himself for a long moment. “This is– what I am?”

"Are you comfortable?" The jeans look a little baggy on him and the t-shirt is working overtime to stretch across his broad shoulders, but for guessing sizes on a man you hadn't seen in six months it's not too bad.

“The pants sit weird.” He admits, tugging on them slightly. “But I am thankful.” He adds, not wishing you to think him ungrateful. “It will take time to get used to.”

"There are other types of pants that might be more comfortable." It's beyond you not to want to touch him all the time, grateful in your own right. Simply that he is here and so willing to try to live life in your time. It is more than you had ever let yourself hope for, really. "Just because I brought you these does not mean you have to like them."

“I am used to...fitted breeches.” He admits after a moment, wiggling his hips slightly. “Though I could hide many weapons.”

"We can certainly find you something tighter if you would prefer it." God knows you're the last person in the world to discourage him from flaunting what he's got. "However...the concealed weapons...are a bit illegal now. By a bit, I mean very."

Pero frowns fiercely. “You cannot carry a dagger or sword?” He huffs. “What kind of place is this?”

"The kind of place where you will need a license to carry a weapon." You shove your hands in your pockets and shrug at him lamely. "No one carries swords anymore. Or daggers, really. We have...they're called firearms, and they are not needed to defend yourself for the most part. Things are much safer than they used to be."

He is skeptical about that, knowing that no matter when in time it is, there is evil in the hearts of men. Still, he grunts and puts down the dagger that he had been about to slip into his waistband. Or the leather belt you had told him was the modern version of his.

"It will take getting used to." Especially for someone like Pero, who had been a warrior until literally yesterday. "Are you ready to get some breakfast before we venture out into town, love?"

“What is there to eat?” He perks up at the prospect of food. Despite the time travel, he loves to think with his stomach and those noodles were tasty. “Do you think she will serve more of those noodles for breakfast?”

"Maybe she'll make some more for us for dinner if we ask." You have no doubt that Hadley would be happy to honour the request and take the compliment for exactly what it is. "But let's go downstairs and see what she's made for breakfast this morning."

Pero grunts, unused to having something different for breakfast beyond leftovers or some bread and cheese. But then again, the idea of cheese has him pulling on his boots and quickly following you.

******

“Well there ye are.” Hadley grins unrepentantly when you and Pero appear in the kitchen, hands tangled together and looking infinitely more relaxed than she’s ever seen either of you before. “I thought I heard ye were awake.” There is nothing but warm teasing in her tone, though there had been a noise complaint this morning that Sarah had already swept under the rug. Nothing to bother you with, not during such a happy reunion. “This morning there’s Quiche Lorraine, scones, and a salad of arugula, fennel, and grapefruit all ready for ye. Coffee and tea, a’course. And some juice if ye’d prefer.”

“Thank you, Hadley.” Your warm hug is full of gratitude, knowing that Hadley and Sarah had taken on quite an adventure yesterday in looking after Pero. “Everything sounds wonderful.”

Pero grunts, unsure of anything that she had just said. You sound pleased and there is one thing that you had talked about a lot. “Coffee?” He asks, looking at you. “Tea? You said you missed those things.” He reminds you, eager to see what the fuss is about.

"Would you like to try them?" His curiosity makes you smile, and you take Hadley's invitation to skirt the kitchen counter and make drinks for yourself as she excuses herself to clean up the dining room. "They both have caffeine in them, so you may feel jittery or energized." Explaining the properties of things like sugar and caffeine to him had been like explaining any other potion that he watched you brew. Not very difficult at all.

He huffs and rolls his eyes. “So you feel like every man when he’s too deep in his cups.” He muses, sniffing the air and approving of the scent.

"It's slightly different, but not too much." Amused at his blasé reaction, you pop a capsule into the Nespresso machine to brew into the waiting mug below and flip on the electric kettle after making sure it had water in it. "I will make both, and you can try them." Cream and sugar are easily obtained, and you portion out two plates of food from the usual overabundance of Hadley's cooking. The woman really is incredibly skilled.

Everything is strange and there isn’t an open flame or cauldron to be found. The only thing remotely familiar to Pero is the black skillet that the woman, Hadley, is hovering over like a hen protecting her chicks. He looks over at you for reassurance, the sounds of the kitchen along with the hum that seems to be constant throughout this space loud.

"Sit, amor." He looks a little lost so you try to give him a little direction, setting the tray of coffee and tea things on the little kitchen table before you put down two identical plates of food. "This is coffee," you put down a mug of fragrant black coffee in front of him and then another of rich, unaltered tea. "And this is tea. Most people add milk and sugar to them, but you don't have to."

“Sugar?” Pero frowns and looks up at you again, unsure of what you are talking about. “What is sugar?”

"This." The little ceramic bowl painted with flowers has a spoon in it, and you scoop some of the crystals out to leave on the rim of the saucer that his teacup is currently sitting on. "Try a little of it on your finger. It's sweeter than honey and far easier to come by."

Sweeter than honey. That gets his attention. He had always been eager to get his hands on honey, loving the sweet nectar. Risking stings to claim honeycomb from hives. Reaching out, Pero manages to grab a few granules of the sugar between his fingers and bring them up to his lips.

You grin when he groans, knowing how much he loves sweets. When he had discovered that you could make jams from some of your dried fruits he had nearly dragged you into bed in gratitude. "We'll have to find a chocolate shop today," you decide. "Too much sugar all at once will make a person feel sick, but chocolate is absolutely divine. Sweet and rich and creamy and just...absolutely delicious."

Pero moans again, thinking about sweet things. “Make– can you–” he nods towards the drinks you set in front of him. “Make them how you think I would drink them.” He begs.

"I'll make them how I like them, how about that?" When he nods again you shift the cups around, adding cream and sugar in measured amounts to each one and stirring them before moving them back in front of him. "If you don't like either of them, there are other things to drink."

The tea is first. Pero takes a cautious sip and hums. It’s good, but it reminds him of the herbs you would boil in water. “This is your tea, huh?”

"There are many different kinds. This is one of them." But you can see the way his lips are curled and you shake your head. "Not to your liking?"

“It is fine.” He won’t insult your favorite brew but it is not exactly what he had been expecting. “The coffee, right?” He asks, picking up the still frothy and rich looking drink.

"I think you'll like that more." Despite having humble beginnings, Pero does have a taste for the rich and luxurious. You happily take the tea from him though, glad to have a cup this morning despite being fully awake.

“Does it go with cheese?” He asks, frowning when he doesn’t see any among the breakfast fare.

"It can." You grin, stifling a giggle. "There is cheese in the quiche, amor. Try a bite." Picking up a bite for him on the fork that was set in front of him, you're happy to offer him the first bite of one of your favourite breakfasts. Although at this point you're thinking you might find a place that does charcuterie for lunch.

There is probably nothing that you offer him that he won’t try. His mouth opens and he accepts the bite, eyes widening slightly as he quickly inhales the delicious, eggy pie. Groaning, he nods. “That is– very good.” He hums, lifting up the the coffee cup to his lips to try it. Another, louder moan escapes his lips on the first sip.

“And so is the coffee?” You guess, grinning when you put his fork down in front of him. For the way Pero loves food, he will likely end up loving modern foodie culture above everything else - although definitely not the pretentious diets.

Even though the coffee is steaming hot, Pero continues to slurp it down like it will vanish from in front of him. Moaning the entire time until the entire cup is down and he is licking his lips and looking disappointed that it is gone.

“Do you see why I missed it?” Laughing lightly, you pop up from the table to get him a glass of orange juice to go with the rest of his breakfast and leave a kiss on his cheek before you sit back down. “We can get another cup later, while we’re out. I don’t want to give you too much caffeine all at once until we know how sensitive you are to it.”

Pouting slightly, he wants to scoff and boast that your modern day drinks won’t affect him, but he doesn’t know that. Instead he just sets the cup down and reaches for the juice, eager to try it since he is more familiar with this than anything else.

Breakfast - brunch really, considering how late in the morning it is - passes easily and quickly. Pero has never been one to dawdle over his food and Hadley's cooking is too good for you to not enjoy eagerly. Before too long you're hand in hand again, heading outside to the rental car that you picked up from the airport. "There's a shopping mall we can go to," you tell him, checking your phone for men's apparel stores in Inverness. Thank god for Google. "It's...malls are indoor markets with permanent merchant stalls. The stores are there every day, for anyone to shop at. They're a little bright, and pretty loud, though. So if it's overwhelming for you, we can go somewhere else." The noise of the future is definitely a difference that you noticed when you came home, never having known anything different before you went to his time.

Pero eyes the car, noticing that it is different from the one he had been in yesterday. “We will…it is the same as other caaaars, sí? It is faster than an arrow?”

"Yes." You nod slightly, but squeeze his hand and try not to laugh. It is completely reasonable for him to be wary of cars. "But I am a better driver than Sarah. I promise you will be safe with me."

“Mierda.” Pero huffs, looking at the handle and reaching for it to copy the way he had seen Sarah open it yesterday. “You must think me stupid.” He grumbles quietly, completely out of his element and feeling as if there is so much he does not understand that comes natural for you.

"Not at all." Slipping into the car beside him, you reach for his seatbelt and show him how to situate it comfortably across his chest. "I had to learn an entire way of life as an adult once too, amor. I know it can be difficult. And scary. But I was lucky to have kind friends then, to teach me the things I did not know. I only want to be that for you, if you'll let me."

He realizes you did have to learn how to live in his world and you had thrived there. That, more than anything, makes him smile slightly. He reaches over and takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips. “Te amo.”

"If you have questions, as I am sure you will, ask them." His kiss to your hand is answered by a chaste but thorough kiss to his lips, and you offer him a reassuring smile. "Te amo, cariño. We will find the way in which you fit into this world. Together.”

This trip is less terrifying than the first. More relaxed simply because it is you that is beside him. The major anxiety of his first trip extinguished by your presence and safety. Cars pass by and houses dot the landscape before you enter the town, making his eyes widen when he sees how large it is compared to the small villages he is used to. “Mierda.” He whispers in awe.

"Inverness is a city now." Knowing that he must have come here at some point if he and the others brought you back to the Stones, you drive through the oldest parts of the city to let him see something that he might recognize the shape of before continuing on to the mall. The large, busy building is imposing from the outside and you park reasonably fair enough from the entrance that you can take your time walking up and give Pero time to adjust to the idea of one of the largest buildings he's ever seen in his life that has nothing to do with royalty or war.

It takes him a moment. So many people, the bustle that has nothing to do with survival taking him aback, he narrows his eyes as he surveys the area. Shaking his head after a moment. “It is so different.” He whispers after a long moment.

"Yes." There's no way to deny that. You both climb out of the car again and you reach for his hand, as much to be a comfort for him as to remind yourself once more than he is actually here. That it isn't a dream. "It is different, but that doesn't make it better or worse. Some things are easier now, but that just means that there are other things to be worried about."

“Everyone moves so fast.” He muses, watching people rush by the two of you. He had thought he moved with purpose in his time, but it seems as though people are running from merchant to merchant. Was there a limited time they could be in the shops?

"Some people say that people could stand to slow down these days." You chuckle a little, linking your fingers through his and guiding him through the walkways of the mall. "I have felt that way myself, since returning."

It is so very different. The light is brighter than the sun and the sounds, different ones challenging his ears to keep up. Pero bristles when someone bumps into him but you are there to calm him down with a stroke to his arm. It’s nearly overwhelming and he can’t seem to keep his eyes from darting around from every movement he sees.

The first men's clothing store that doesn't seem to favor athleticwear is where you steer him, hoping that by limiting the number of directions all the sights and lights and sounds are coming from you can keep Pero from being too overwhelmed. Having explained the concept of trying on clothes and using dressing rooms to him in the car, you're hoping this will go somewhat smoothly.

If he is honest with himself, Pero hadn’t believed you about the ready made clothes. Jaw dropping when you pull him into the store and he sees racks upon racks of clothes. All seemingly the same. “¿Qué clase de brujería es esta?” What kind of sorcery is this? Pero breaths out, reaching a hand out to run over the button up shirts of multiple colored boxes.

"La magia puede ser divertida. Por eso te casaste con una bruja." Magic can be fun. That is why you married a witch. You tease him, picking out one of the plaid shirts he is touching in a size you think will fit him. It will all be a fresh shopping hell when you're at home dealing with American sizes, but he just needs a few days' worth of clothes in order to get there.

“It is wealth that I’ve never imagined.” He admits, craning his neck to see all the fabric, much of it unfamiliar. “What would you have me wear?”

"I would have you be comfortable." Although you know that for him comfort is a very different thing, it is an honest answer. Summer means that there are t-shirts and polos in dozens of different designs, short-sleeved button-down shirts, and even some long sleeved things in soft cotton and linen. Shorts, jeans, and more linen options for pants hang along one wall. "Why don't we try on a few things in different fabrics and sizes, so we can find what will be the most comfortable for you?"

“Whatever you want, Sassenach.” This is your time and he will follow your lead, although his eyes drift over to a purple hued shirt. Only wealthy lords could afford brightly colored cloth. The darker squares made it appealing and he looks to you for approval.

"You like this one." It isn't even a question, you can see the way his eyes light up at the purple plaid cotton button down. Seeing him get excited about something as relatively simple as a shirt makes you feel just a little more relaxed and assured about this whole trip, and you take one off the rack that you think will fit him, plus a size larger because he's built so broadly. "I like it, too."

“You do?” He’s almost shy about it; never giving much thought to clothes because they were a necessity rather than an indulgence, but this is the definition of luxury. “Then we will get it.”

"Does anything else catch your eye?" There are other purple shirts, other plaids, and other soft materials to be had, and you wonder which things he will gravitate toward.

Pero frowns slightly and looks down at the shirt he is wearing and the points at the shirt that is on a rack. A Henley. “That is different from this.” He comments. “I will try that?”

"Sure. You can try that." You're sure you've done a damn poor job of hiding how excited you are at the prospect of Pero trying on anything that will cling to him, but it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters to you is that he leaves here with things that he likes and doesn't mind wearing. The fact that you get to play dress-up with your soulmate is a fringe benefit.

Pero doesn’t miss your happiness as he starts to shift through things. Rejecting some outright and agreeing to others until there is too much. “Amor, I have one ass.” He huffs. “I cannot wear all this.”

“People have more than two or three sets of clothing now, amor de mi vida. This is just so you can try them on and we can find your size.” The employee who takes the small stack of pants and hangers from you seems nonplussed about the fact that you obviously intend to go into the dressing room with Pero, and does not stop you from disappearing behind the closed door with him. The little stall is barely big enough for two to stand in, but you can sit and mind your business in the corner easily enough.

“Truly?” He shakes his head and looks at the pile of clothes. “Now I just put them on? To fit them like armor?”

“I’ll keep everything organized for you.” The purple shirt he loved is the first thing you hand him, and a pair of gray pants that are stretchier and softer than denim despite probably being made of a nearly identical fabric.

He notices you watching as he undresses and smirks at you. “See something you like, amor?”

“Always.” And who are you to deny it? That would be downright untrue. “But it is rude to use a dressing room as a place for pleasure simply because I see something I like very much.”

“Hmph.” Pero frowns but he doesn’t argue with you, knowing that you might have different rules for propriety than in his time. Even then you are his wife and not some common wench he paid for the pleasure of her body.

“We’re not animals, mi amor. We can wait until we get back to the hotel to have another tumble.” Though the frown on his face does make you laugh, knowing that if it weren’t for public decency laws, you would gladly just have each other right here on the dressing room bench.

Pero narrows his eyes at you playfully. “I know that.” He grumps at you. “It is my cock that does not listen. It is bewitched by you.”

“Sshhh!” You nearly burst out laughing, forgetting momentarily how matter of fact he can be. “It is also not polite to talk about sex quite so loudly in public.” Of course, it never was, but Pero has never cared. You just don’t want him to have a cross sales clerk to deal with when he is trying to learn a whole new society. Pero smirks at you and lifts a brow, about to say something else but he doesn’t want to embarrass you. Instead he just winks at you and starts to strip his pants off.

The purple shirt fits him almost perfectly, though nothing can offset the way his shoulders make him larger than life. The pants take a few tries to get right, however, since years as a warrior has given him a trim waist and a preference for clothing that he can move in. You’ll have to explain later the magic of things like simple sweatpants. “What do you think?” You ask him, nodding to the mirror after the third pair of pants. These hug his ass so well that he actually has one in them and you’re prepared to say a prayer of thanks to the fast fashion gods for it.

“Do you like it?” For him, that’s all that matters. He doesn’t want to shame you, since it is obvious that the two of you are soulmates. “Does it– do I look like a man from your time?” That is his biggest worry, that people will know that he doesn’t belong here, belong with you.

“Yes, amor. You certainly do.” There’s room enough for you to stand next to him, and you slip out of your seat to put your arms around him and squeeze gently. “I want to try to give you the best chance at a normal life here that I can. If you hate this clothing and want to wear something else there are lots of options, I promise. I will always find you handsome no matter what.”

“This is comfortable.” He admits, moving around as much as the small space would allow. “I just want to make sure you like it. I could be bare assed and not care.”

"That would certainly attract you some extra attention." You snort at the mental image, just thinking of how many people would end up staring at the well-endowed and well-built Spaniard.

“What now?” He starts to drag the clothes off again and put the original clothes on, not sure what was next for you.

"Do you want to try on the other shirts?" He had found a few different styles and you definitely don't object to watching him try on clothes. "Then we can see about finding you some shoes? And maybe..." You bite your lip, not because he is shirtless - although that's a good reason - but because you're almost afraid to ask. "Maybe you can tell me...about Arwena and Briac? Whatever you know, anyway?"

He hadn’t mentioned them because he did not want you to feel bad, but now that you have brought it up he is happy to talk about them. “I have letters, from Wena.” He tells you with a grin, reaching for the other shirts to try on. “A stack of them. She was writing you almost one a day.”

"Where did you go?" What you really want to ask is what the hell happened when you got sick, but the dressing room in the Eastgate Shopping Centre Fatface is not the place for what you have a feeling is going to be a serious conversation. Much better to keep it light, if you can. At least for now.

“After you…disappeared, we traveled to Skye to seek out the mysteries of the Stones from Father Malcolm’s clan.” Pero explains, remembering how unresponsive he had been while traveling to you.

"You met Grandmother Ede?" Remembering the old woman brings a smile to your lips, although you might be smiling a little bit more right now watching Pero fight his way into the tight Henley shirt he picked out. "Did...Malcolm go with you? From Gretna? I-I don't remember much after the morning after our wedding."

“Yes.” You wouldn’t have remembered anything. Pero turns and sighs softly, knowing that you would have wanted to exact your revenge yourself. “Your monster, your dragon, was slain outside the stables in Gretna. And Wena– she took out the bastard that hurt her. The Father came with us to the Stones to return you and keep us safe from questions.”

"Who did it?" As quiet as the question is, and as probably inappropriate as the timing is, you need to know. If Wena had slain her own dragon then you only actually need one guess to know who slayed yours - but you want to hear it from him.

“I made sure that I repaid him for your injuries, for the injuries he had visited upon other women.” Pero murmurs, his eyes flashing with satisfaction of the blood he had spilt on his hands. It had been the last man he had killed so far and if that was the end, he would be content with it. “He knew terror before he drew his last breath.”

"Mi guerrero." My warrior. It's probably not something other people would be proud of, to know that their soulmates had spilled blood in their name. But considering what was done to you? Standing again, your arms find his waist easily and your face tucks into the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell of your soap and new clothing along with the scent that is only his. "Gracias, mi amor. I...I do not know if I could have done it myself."

“You could have.” Pero has no doubt of your strength, he knows you would have done it if only to spare any other from suffering your fate or worse at his hands. Still, he preens slightly under your praise and hums softly at the feeling of you in his arms. “I only did it because you were too sick to conjure your flames.”

"So Wena had to confront her father after all?" The thought stung and festered over the months – wondering what had become of all the people you had left behind. Even when the answers are unpleasant, it is still good to have them. Knowing Arwena was strong enough to face her father and her attacker and still move forward completely validates all of your belief in her.

“She was amazing, amor.” Pero murmurs, knowing that you would be proud. “Her handling of that shit stain who claimed to be her betrothed was magnificent. Briac was proud of her, even if he itched to kill the bastard himself. And she did it while carrying the babe.”

“She was already pregnant?” You look up at him with wide eyes, although you’re not sure why you’re so surprised. The road from Brittany to Scotland hadn’t exactly afforded anyone a great deal of privacy. So much so that you had all joked about it at length.

“Yes.” Pero smiles, remembering her pregnancy fondly. Even if she had complained about the travel and the upsets of having a babe growing inside her. “You are an abuela. A perfect little boy.”

“It is…more than that, I think.” Your thoughts redirect instantly to the grimoire, sitting safely under lock and key in your apartment. The list of names in the back cover begins with you - something that makes sense if it is contributors, but also if it is family. And if Pero is calling you an abuela, then they certainly still considered you family. “I was going to tell you tonight…the whole story.”

“You should read her letters. I was there when she gave birth. She– they named their son after me.” He whispers, a proud smile on his face. “They took Tovar as their name as well.”

“You kept our family safe.” It’s just a whisper back to him, but you tighten your arms around him and hold on, for the first time feeling absolutely grateful that the Stones hadn’t allowed him to follow you immediately. He was needed. He was needed in that time and place, to make sure that Arwena and Briac and their little boy were safe. To make sure that you…that your family line would truly begin. “I need to tell you something, amor.”

Pero frowns, worry making the creases of his eyes more prominent than they normally are. “What is wrong?” He asks, fearing that you might have learned something horrible about the time after he left.

“Some months ago, Beth and I were cleaning…” Beth was cleaning, you were resting, but that is beside the point. “And we discovered a box from my own abuela. Some belongings of hers that she meant to pass on to me before she died.” Your fingers twist in the Henley he is wearing and you know you’ll be buying it for him regardless of the fit, just because it has already been stretched. “Wena’s book was among them.”

Pero frowns and shakes his head. “I do not understand. She had the book. She would write in it and read your writings all the time.” He huffs. “How do you have it?”

“I did not understand either,” you admit, urging him to sit with you and lowering your voice a little. “But the back of the book…there is a list of people who contributed to it over the centuries. M-my name is there. Right at the top…and the most recent…is my abuela.”

He frowns again, biting his lip. “They were happy when I left. Little Perito was growing like a weed and Arwena was already speaking of having another child.”

“Yes.” When you nod again, you take both of his large hands in your smaller ones. “And I believe that that family…it is possible that I am their progeny.” And the beauty and oddity of it always manages to bring a tear to your eye, if you’re honest, making you shrug at how impossible it seems. “I believe that Arwena and Briac may be my ancestors.”

It takes him a moment to really grasp what that means and when he does, his hands tighten on yours. “You– mierda, their kin?” He huffs, nearly blown away, although all he can think is that your magic made it possible. Without you there, Arwena might never have been strong enough to save herself.

“I think so.” Leaning into his side of such a relief. To be able to discuss this with someone who holds the same affection for the younger couple is a weight lifted off your shoulders. “I have no way of proving it, of course, but I will show you the book when we go home. It is a miracle that it has lasted.”

“She was talking about a way to preserve the book.” He murmurs. “To pass it down to her children like you did for her.”

"It seems to have worked." And for a spell like that to have lasted for a thousand years? Arwena must have become a far more powerful witch than either you or her had ever thought.

“Amor…”Pero looks over at you. “Do you believe you were supposed to go back? To find her and me?”

"I have believed for a long time that I was meant to go back in order to find you." It feels like a large thing to admit - almost a confession - but you know that Pero can appreciate a little better now the enormity of finding yourself in an entirely new life. How difficult and scary it can be. How thinking that you are there with a purpose can be such a relief. "I've thought that since the day you came to my doorstep. But now? I don't know. It seems...foolish to think that any of it happened by accident."

“Too much of a pattern to be an accident.” Pero wraps his arms around you and sighs softly. “They wish us to return, if you wish to.” He confesses, knowing you would be upset at him if he had not been truthful with you.

"Do you want that?" Tilting your head back, you manage to leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth and try to read the expression on his face. If he wants to try to go back, you will. You just have no idea if it will work. Or if the Stones would even send you back to the same time if it did.

His frown is conflicted but then he blinks and shakes his head. “No.” He growls softly. “I– I cannot risk losing you again.” He had nearly lost you forever and just the idea of you vanishing and him remaining or him returning without you is enough to make his heart start to hammer in his chest. “I– will not survive it.”

“I can’t lose you again, either.” Burying your face in his chest hides the frown on your lips, knowing that he probably would be happier in his own time. But you respect him enough to let him make his own decision, and you love him enough to be grateful that his choice is you. “I promise I will do everything I can to make you happy here, cariño. I swear. On our family.”

“I don’t care where I live.” Pero promises you, pulling back so he can cup your cheek, his thumb brushing the base of your scar. “As long as you are with me, I am happy. You are my home.”

******

After trying on more shoes than a bride with an unlimited budget and finding an old fashioned sweets shop to introduce Pero to the wonder of modern candy, you had walked around the mall a little while longer. His curiosity generally overcame his discomfort, especially when he would get the odd compliment or smile from a stranger than thought he looked quite good in his short-sleeved Henley, jeans, and Doc Martens. You had just giggled, told him you completely agreed that he looks good, and taken him for his very first ice cream before heading back out to the car.

“We can eat that every day?” Pero asks again, licking his fingers even though there is no more of the sweet ice cream left on his skin. “Different kinds? There were so many at that merchant.”

“We can buy it in containers from the market and bring it home any time we like,” you giggle, delighted with how enraptured Pero has been with the easy delights of the modern age. He was very literally like a kid in that candy store earlier, and you know you’ll have to stop him from overdoing his sugar intake and ending up sick.

“I want to try every one of them.” He insists, practically smacking his lips in anticipation. “But they must go in that big steel box, sí?”

"Yes." When you reach the rental car, you unlock the doors and set the half-dozen bags from your bag into the backseat. "But we have one of those - they're called freezers - at the apartment. I think I might even have an ice cream maker in the cupboard somewhere. We can try making our own, if you want."

“There is so much to your time.” Pero shakes his head, nearly unable to believe that he is not in some fantastic dream. “I don’t know how you experience it all.”

"You don't." Shrugging slightly, you open the car's passenger door for him before going around the car and letting yourself into the driver's side. "There are countless things that I have never done. But that's okay. I just make sure not to waste time doing things I don't like unless I have to."

He contemplates that silently as you turn on the car and pull out of the parking spot to go back to the inn. “I wonder if the Wall is still there.” He murmurs softly, looking out the window. “I would like to see it again. It was magical, bruja.” He looks over and tosses you a grin. “So high you will not believe. It is bigger than anything else in the world, I am sure of it.”

"You're right." In some ways, at least. "The Wall is one of the great wonders of the world. Most of it is still standing, and people visit it in droves every year." You glance over at him at a traffic light, loving the look of excitement on his face. "We could go, one day. If you wanted to. China is very different now than it once was, but we could definitely go and visit the Wall."

“Have you ever been?” He feels like you would have spoken about it after revealing the truth about where you came from, but maybe you had thought to spare his feelings.

"No," you shake your head as you turn back to the traffic, making sure to drive safely and not too fast so he isn't uncomfortable. "I haven't. I had never even left my country until I came to Scotland to see the Stones."

Pero snorts, smirking slightly at how that had turned out for you. “What ‘countries’ would you say you have visited now? Is Spain still there?”

"Spain is certainly still there." Rolling your eyes slightly is just good humor, but it makes him laugh and that was your only goal. "I had always wanted to see it even before I met you. The city I live in was founded by Spanish settlers. Adventurers. A very long time ago, but not as long ago as your time."

He grunts, slightly proud of his Spanish brethren for traveling across the large ocean you told him separated your land from Spain. Especially since the end of the world was that way. “Good.” He shuffles slightly, a little motion sick from how fast the car was going. “I will take you there one day. When you want to see where I settled Wena and Briac.”

"Was it your homestead?" That had been the plan, after all, but anything could have happened to prevent them from actually making it to his village in Valencia.

“It was.” Pero closes his eyes, smiling slightly as he remembers the home he had only left a month ago but was now a thousand years in the past. “The house was empty, still standing. Wena birthed our nieto in the same bed I was born in.”

"How old was he when you left?" It must have broken his heart to leave that small family behind, knowing how close they had all become. Knowing that he had actually been an abuelo to little Pero and that he must have helped Briac fix up the farmhouse that he was raised in.

“Little Perito was four months old when I left.” It’s strange to think that he is now dead and his bones are dust in the earth. He had lived a full life and most likely had a family since you are thinking you come from their line. “They were happy there. Father Malcolm settled there too, at the church.”

"Malcolm went with you?" Somehow you had imagined that he might have stayed behind in Skye with his clan. Or perhaps you had only thought that because you had wanted to think it would have made him happy.

“He did.” Pero nods. “It was good, to have a man of the cloth take up for Wena. To settle people if rumors were to start.”

"It sounds like you were happy." And like you would have been, too, if you had managed to make it there with them. It might have been even happier than you had been in the cottage in Brittany because you didn't have to fear the village turning against you. Pero is right - having a man of the cloth to stand by Arwena's goodness could only have helped.

“There was something, or someone, missing.” Pero reaches over and squeezes your knee. “Your presence was missed every second.”

“I missed you all so much.” Your hand over his is a warmth and a comfort, and you steer the car down the main road easily with your other hand. “I think yesterday was the first day I didn’t cry for missing you all, and it was because you called me so early in the day that I hadn’t had the chance yet.”

“We are together now.” Pero rumbles, pleased that you had missed him as much as he had missed you, although he hates to hear that you cried. “Nothing will tear us apart.”

"I'm afraid we'll have to be married again." Not that it's a thing you're afraid of, per se, but it's something that you had gone over and over again in your mind since waking up in the hospital. If Pero ever made it through and if he wanted to stay, it's something you would have to take care of. "I don't think modern governments are in the habit of honoring thousand-year-old vows."

“I will marry you a thousand times, if that is what it takes.” He doesn’t care what he has to do, even if it's to kill someone. As long as you are happy and he is with you, that is all that matters. He will find a way to provide for you. He’s made arrangements that hopefully would have survived a thousand years.

******

The inn is bustling when you return, filled with new arrivals checking in that all look like they’re part of one big party. You and Pero slip through the lobby with your bags with just a wave and a shout from Sarah to make sure you come down for dinner later.

Pero follows you up to the room, comfortable enough here but there were a lot of people down there. He feels exposed without his dagger on him and he hates it.

“We can hide up here until the crowd dies down.” You offer, setting his bags down at the foot of the bed. “Did you have fun today, amor?”

“It is different.” Pero admits, still blown away by the casual luxury that is available in this time. “I just feel…naked without a dagger.” He admits. “There must be some weapon I can carry.”

“We can find you something.” Not being terribly well versed in concealed carry laws, you tilt your head and think for a second before a possible solution comes to mind. “There are things called pocket knives now. Blades that fold into their holster to be carried in your pants pocket. How does that sound?”

His eyes narrow, imagining how a blade could fold. “Fantastic.” He mutters to himself before he nods eagerly. “I must see this ‘pocket knife’ and have one.” He tells you with a satisfied look.

The flash of excitement in his eyes makes you laugh, and you pull him down on the bed next to you to put your arms around him. “We’ll get you one when we get back to Florida. You’ll have lots of options.”

That makes him feel better, grumbling slightly at your amusement at him. “I carry weapons.” He huffs at you, his own arms wrapping around you and he pulls you closer as he flops down onto the marvelously comfortable bed.

“And if you would like to continue carrying weapons, I understand.” After all, he had spent almost his entire life with a sword on his hip. “Maybe I can ask my friend if her soulmate’s security company needs an extra pair of hands?” It had crossed your mind, obviously, but if Pero wanted to continue to be a warrior in this time - if that is what makes him most comfortable and fulfilled - you would gladly talk to Beth and William.

“Like guards?” Pero frowns. “People still need hired swords in this time?” He was familiar with the work, sometimes being hired by a lord to guard his home from his enemies. It was the easiest of the work he had done.

“Will’s company mostly works for businesses. They provide private security for companies rather than people.” Lying in bed with him has always been the most comfortable place to be, and you nuzzle into his side so easily. “I don’t really know the ins and outs of it, but…he knows all about you. I’m sure if you wanted to talk to him about it, he would be happy to.”

“It will be good to earn coins to help you.” Pero acknowledges, surprised when you had told him that the bartering for skins or game was nearly completely dead in your time and coin was how you bought everything. It worried him, because in his time, coin was the hardest thing to come by and he wanted to contribute. To not be a burden.

"We will find you something that you enjoy." The last thing you want is for him to settle down with you in this time only to end up regretting the choice because twenty-first century American grind work culture makes him miserable. Shit - it already makes you miserable, he shouldn't have to be, too.

“Enjoy?” Pero chuckles and looks up at the ceiling again. “Bruja, the differences between your time and mine are vast.” His hand rubs up and down your back, sliding underneath your shirt so he can touch your skin. “We do not do things we enjoy, we do things to survive. My joy comes from being with my soulmate.”

"I love you, too." His hand on your back is steadying. Comforting in a way that lets you just shut your eyes for a second before looking up at him again. "But I already have a job that I hate that makes plenty of money. If we can find you something that you don't hate, I would love that for you. That's all."

Pero frowns, not happy with your comment. “Then I will learn your world and make sure that I can provide for you. So you can leave what you hate and go back to what you love.” You had loved your potions and herbs, healing people. He will make that happen for you.

"I can't ask you to do that." Especially since you don't actually know what path you would take if you could start over. Healing had been rewarding, but modern medicine is very different. Cooking is fun but not a career path you had ever been interested in. And your college English degree practically has dust on it by now. Your main hobby had been photography but that is a tough as nails path to take. "As long as we're together, everything will be fine."

Pero grunts, the idea that had been forming in his head one that he will need to ponder on before he talks to you about it. Learning your world will be daunting enough but he learned magic to be here and he was going to put in the effort.

******

It's a few hours later, after wandering hands turn into slow lovemaking, you and Pero get dressed again and wander down to find out what Hadley has made for dinner. The large party that checked it early seems to be a wedding party that is trickling out for the night, maybe out for bachelor and bachelorette parties or else out for a large dinner, and Sarah looks relieved to see them go when she flashes you both a smile from behind the front desk.

“It always smells good down here.” Pero tells you, sniffing the air and his mouth waters at whatever Hadley has prepared for dinner. The food tastes so different but he is overwhelmed. Especially when you had shown him a selection of cheeses.

"Smells like garlic and duck." You could practically float downstairs, following the scent of cassoulet into the kitchen where Hadley is just beginning to scoop out four bowls of the gorgeous provencal stew while Sarah cuts slices of fresh baguette to pile into a basket accompanied by herb goat cheese and honey. "We thought we could all eat together tonight," Sarah offers, smiling when you and Pero walk into the room hand in hand.

“Do you not eat with your guests often?” Pero asks, tilting his head curiously. He would think that the honor of the lord's table was still granted to those visiting, although it might be a separate area, according to rank.

“When the place is full up it can be hard,” Sarah admits. The tray of bread and toppings gets drinking glasses and flatware added to it, and lately a large decanter of wine. “But…we had something we wanted to surprise you with tonight.”

That has his interest and apparently yours from the way that you tilt your head curiously. Pero focuses on the wine and smirks, wondering if it is as good as his time.

“Dinner isn’t surprise enough?” They’ve already done so much for you, in the support they’ve given you over the last six months and the way they took Pero in yesterday without hesitation, you don’t know what else they could possibly do.

“A’course not.” Hadley huffs, rolling her eyes like there isn’t a Nutella soufflé in the oven for dessert. “Sit an’ eat, an’ we’ll tell ya.” You don’t have to be told twice, helping Sarah set the little kitchen table for the four of you as Hadley sets out full bowls of fragrant, delicious cassoulet. Sarah pours out the wine and dinner is served as easily as that, but the younger of the two women is obviously a little eager. Or else nervous. “I’ve had a call with my auntie earlier today,” she starts, looking at you with a meaningful glance. “Sarah’s tía went through the Stones to 1692,” you tell Pero. “She stayed a few months before coming back.”

Pero shakes his head, eyes wide. “Did–did she go back? Or did someone come with her?” He asks, wondering about others that might have come through and been out of their own time.

“Auntie never spoke of anyone special from her travels.” Sarah shakes her head, wishing she could tell him otherwise. “But she spoke of another traveler that she had known…a woman whose story she took down for the archives…and that the most difficult thing she encountered was not having papers.” Papers. Your face falls noticeably, realizing that even though you had to grab your driver’s license and your passport in order to get to him, you had forgotten that he would need those things too.

“Only lords have papers.” Pero huffs, shaking his head. His name might be recorded in the church when he had been baptized as a baby, but his parents couldn’t read, or write, so there was no family history other than the stories his had been told. Nobility was the only class that matters as far as proving you are who you say you are.

"Not anymore." You glance at Pero beside you, already setting your fork back down in your bowl and trying to figure out how the fuck to deal with this road block. "Everyone has them now."

"We dinna bring it up to make ye sad." Hadley assures you both, nudging her wife. "No one cleverer than a MacLeod woman when ye find yerself in a bind."

Even Pero can see the problem with needing papers. He frowns slightly and his fork stops halfway between the bowl and his lips. “Shit.” He hisses under his breath.

"Luckily for you both, I have a slightly checkered past that comes with excellent connections." It really isn't something she would otherwise be proud of, but right now it's something that is so incredibly important. "In two days Pero will have a Spanish passport that even the king wouldn't see a problem with."

Pero has no clue what a passport is, but you slump down in relief makes him believe that it is important.

"Two days?" You nod, swallowing your fear and leaning slightly on Pero's arm beside you. "We can do that. I–I don't care what it costs. Whatever you had to promise, it's worth it."

Sarah snorts and shakes her head. “Cashed in some favors.” She assures you. “We just need to add photos to them. Also have a birth certificate and Visa for him so you can start getting him documents in the States.”

"I don't even want to know how you managed all of that." You're clutching Pero's hand for dear life at the table, feeling like you could burst with appreciation and gratitude for everything that Sarah and Hadley have done. "I–I can't possibly say how grateful I am. You've done so much for us."

“MacLeod.” Pero rocks his jaw, thinking back about the brief time that he had spent on the Isle of Skye and the conversations he had with Father Malcolm during the year that he had spent learning the magic he needed to get back to you. “You’re kin to the old woman who told me her theory of the Stones.”

"My family has collected the stories of people who traveled through the Stones for hundreds of years." As everyone starts to slowly pick up their forks again, Sarah sits up a little straighter with familial pride. "Did you...in your travels, did you encounter Clan MacLeod?"

"Oh my god..." you look to Pero in shock, realizing that you never connected the dots before now. "Malcolm was a MacLeod."

Pero nods, and gives a small smile. "The old woman...." He grumbles in admiration. "Do you have a story of a Spaniard coming to ask how to get through the Stones?" He asks Sarah.

"I...think so?" There are a lot of stories, as unbelievable as that seems, and Sarah takes some time to roll back through all the stories she's read since she started taking an interest in the Stones as a teenager. "I remember a story about a man who wanted to follow his wife through the Stones? He was with his children and...a priest? A cousin? I can't remember now, it's been a long time since I read it." She puts her wine glass down, looking at him in utter fascination. "Was that you?"

"It was." Pero closes his eyes and reaches for your hand. "If it– if she had told me there was no hope, I was planning on settling Wena and Braic and then..." He swallows, voice breaking slightly. "Make sure I fell on my sword."

If anything in the world could make you lose your appetite, it's the idea that Pero had been ready to refuse to live without you. Your fork is down again instantly, letting you cover his hand that you are holding with both of yours and squeeze it tight in your grip. "I was going to come back to you, if you didn't come through," you promise him, feeling the lump in your throat stick and pull at your heart. "I'm still taking medicine for the infection that almost killed me, b-but when it was done...I was going to go back through the Stones. To find you again."

"It doesn't matter now." He sees the panic in your eye, the horror in the tilt of your brow and he doesn't want you to worry. He lifts both of your hands up to his lips and kisses the back of them. "I am here with you, where I belong." Pero is not a sentimental man, or at least he pretends not to be, but his soulmate brings it out of him.

"So what will you do with a few more days of vacation?" Sarah asks, wanting to lighten the mood a little and help the unique couple feel a little happiness and positivity for their new start.

"What is this vacation people keep talking about?" Pero frowns in confusion, never hearing the word before this time. "Tell me about it."

"It's what we call the time when we aren't working." You explain, not letting go of his hand but understanding that crushing his finger bones isn't going to help anybody. "The time that you spent in the cottage? Your winter months where you didn't sell your sword? We would call that a vacation now. Although most vacations are when you just go away to have fun somewhere. Like a honeymoon, for instance."

“Honeymoon?” Pero remembers you using that word when you had married but he had been too busy making you his wife to care. The idea of a vacation is logical when you explain it. “I see, so most vacation when the weather is bad in their area.”

"A honeymoon is a vacation for a newly married couple. A time when they can be alone after the chaos of planning their wedding and just spend their first times as husband and wife as a pair." It was a time that was rudely interrupted for the two of you but also for Arwena and Briac, when you got sick. "And...yes, actually. Like people who live in a very cold place will often go somewhere warm for vacation. Or people who live in hot or rainy places might go to a place with lots of beautiful snow in winter to enjoy that difference."

Accepting that, Pero grunts and lets go of your hand to pick up his fork again. The food has cooled down but he doubts it will affect the taste. “So I should give you a honeymoon when we remarry.” He decides, smirking slightly at the idea.

"Where would you want to go?" Watching Pero pick up nuances of modern life more quickly than he thinks he will is equal parts amusing and endearing. He's so much more clever than he thinks he is and it's wonderful to see. "To the Wall? Back to Brittany or Valencia? Or someplace new?"

“I do not know.” He gives a small shrug of his shoulders, although his face is smug. “Somewhere you wear as little clothes as possible.” He winks and leers slightly at you, ignoring the manners that would say that he shouldn’t say such things in front of Sarah and Hadley.

For their part, the other couple burst into snickers, completely amused by the way your shoulders shrink just a little bit in embarrassment but without any shame. "We went on a cruise," Sarah offers, beaming happily at her wife. "To the Caribbean. Jamaica was gorgeous."

Pero frowns again, unused to the words she is using, but your eyes widen slightly. You like the idea, obviously. “Then we will go on this.” He nods. “A cruise.”

"A cruise is a ship," you explain, amused that Pero has simply jumped on board with the idea without knowing what all of it is. "You told me you hated to travel by boat, mi amor." Shaking your head, you take a sip of your wine and pull out your phone to Google Caribbean vacation photos. "If you want to go to the islands...they are very hot places with beaches where people swim and drink and bathe in the sun. And women wear things like this," you turn your phone screen to show him a picture of a beach covered in women in bikinis and men in various versions of bathing suits.

Pero’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. He’s seen flesh, but often whores would not undress. You had been the woman he was most used to seeing. “They– in public? And they are not…selling their wares?” He leans in and whispers the last part, a flush running up his neck and over his cheeks.

"Maybe some of them." You shrug, loving the look of shock on the gruff Spaniard's face. "But that has nothing to do with what they wear. Women have more freedom to dress as they please in this time."

“Do you own these?” He jumps on the question immediately, eyes darkening at the thought.

It would be easy to mistake the question if you did not know Pero as well as you do, but your lips quirk into a smirk at his very direct and very intense interest in bikinis. "Yes," you tell him simply, trying not to laugh. "Two of them."

The noise he makes would be mistaken for disapproval if it weren’t for the fact that he is nearly devouring you with his eyes. His cock twitches violently and his fingers tighten around his fork so tightly, he’s surprised he didn’t bend the metal. “You will show me.”

Sarah and Hadley can't help themselves, they burst out in giggles politely hidden behind their wine glasses. Their laughter takes you with it, and you smother it in pressing an earnest kiss to his lips. "I promise, amor. Florida is very warm and I like to go to the beach."

“If that is what you wear, I will like this Florida. But I will cut off the man’s hand who touches you.” He vows, suddenly stern when he realizes other men would want you.

"I don't think anyone would dare come near me with you glowering at them like that." Lord knows you wouldn't, if you were on the outside of the situation.

“Good.” His growl is softened by the absolute smugness of your assessment. “I will be eager to see you walk around in such things.”

"I'm sure you will," Sarah smirks. "Maybe tomorrow you should have your soulmate show you what lingerie is."

Again, another word that Pero doesn’t understand but he is smart enough to know it must have something to do with the scandalous outfits that you are talking about now. Pero bobbles his head immediately and turns his eyes on you. “You must teach me, bruja. Your time is very freeing. I must know about this lingerie.”

“I’ll take you shopping again tomorrow.” You promise him, shaking your head a little in amusement at his sheer enthusiasm. It is going to be extremely fun to teach Pero about some parts of the modern world. “This time we’ll pick out a few things for me, instead.”

______

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[elialys]

Channeling positive energy for 2024

I have been very listless for at least the last couple of years (if not since 2020 and the whole pandemic mess), resulting in a pretty rough depressive episode that peaked this last November. It's hard to feel motivated to do anything concrete to improve your own life when everything around you is just...bleak. And this world does suck so much, so often, in so many ways.

But then I remember how I innately believe that most people are good, and that I am good, too, and that the one thing that always makes me feel better when I'm low is to do something helpful for someone, or to just be kind if I don't have the spoons for more.

(Putting this big ramble under read more)

I think I've mentioned it here before but I've made the decision to try and get into a new field of work, which involves at least two if not three years of studying. Let me tell you, I'm about to turn 36 in a couple of weeks. It's scary as fuck to do something like this. But this job, if I get into the school I need to get into, will be perfect for me. I'll be helping people who need guidance and compassion basically every day.

The bond I got to build with my students was my absolutely favorite part of teaching, but I got overwhelmed by everything else. I burned myself out in less than four years because I became a workaholic who worked 70 hours a week, never took a breath, tried tried tried, yet never felt like I was doing enough. The pressure was incredible, the 'I have to be around hundreds of people every single day', performing in front of entire classrooms full of kids 6h a day'...it just wore me down. Loved my kiddos to death, loved my science team so much, but then the pandemic hit and I lost a few family members within a few months, and I realized it was time for me to go home after 12 years abroad.

The meanest part of my brain likes to tell me I've spent the last four years being basically a useless human blob, but realistically, I know I wasn't. I had been working my ass off since 2011, when I was in America nannying two young kids all day long then going to school full time at night/weekends, before being hired as a teacher in England for 4 years.

I needed the break, I needed time with my loved ones. I needed to help grieving family members, especially my little sister with ASD, who had to learn to navigate life without her mom, who also developed epilepsy on top of everything else while our father pretended nothing was happening. I needed to spend time with my grandmother, who did so much for me when I was young and who's all alone, now. I'll even go as far as saying I've been working on fixing things with my mother this past year living with her, which was not an easy thing. Still isn't, but it's so much better than it used to be, and she's trying, too.

But I'm ready to get my life "back on track", or at least, to get busier , more proactive, more helpful to others who aren't in my inner circle, because I know that's what I'm good at, and why I'm here.

So, yeah, channeling positive thoughts for 2024. I'm not only going to work on getting into that school in the next few weeks, I also just received an email a couple days ago from an editor I used to work with. She's a writing director somewhere else now, and they need writers for a new webcomic project; she told me she immediately thought of me because they'd always been happy with my work, so I'm going to test for that, too, because why the hell not. Actually getting paid for the stuff I was writing a couple of years ago was the most surreal, rewarding experience of my writer life, and I wouldn't mind that happening again.

I want to give the biggest shoutout to my best friend & other butt cheek, @melusine0811, for helping me navigate those last four years, for always believing in me, and for being so fucking courageous when life is just so damn hard. Lauren, you're the bravest person I know, and forever my Donna Noble.

And because I'm sappy this weekend, awards and all, I'm also sending my thanks to my Australian unicorn, just for existing somewhere out there, for being a role model to me from afar these last thirteen years, for being another perfect example of people persevering no matter what, doing the things they love, while always trying to be kind to others in the process. I don't believe in much, but I believe in karma. You do good deeds, good things will happen to you.

Be kind to each other, my lovelies. Always be kind.

[asykriel]

Love is the Death of Duty - 9.

® do not repost or translate !

☆ Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Male! Targaryen OC

☆ Status: Ongoing 

☆ Summary:  

“He is half of my heart.”

War made monsters of them all, but it also brought the two second sons together in a flurry of death, love, deceit and delusion. The story of Aemond Targaryen and the eldest son of Daemon and Rhaenyra, Maegor Targaryen, second of his name. 

☆ Warnings: Sexual content, explicit violence, dark themes, targcest etc.

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☆ CHAPTERS: (Prologue) / ( 1 ) / ( 2 ) / ( 3 ) / ( 4 ) / ( 5 ) / ( 6 ) / ( 7 ) / ( 8 ) / ( 9 ) / ( 10 ) / ( 11 ) / ( 12 ) / ( 13 ) / ( 14 ) / ( 15 ) / (16 from now on upcoming chaps only on-  AO3  ||  Wattpad  )

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CHAPTER 9

The wind is blowing lightly against the grassy cliff overlooking the sea where Maegor is standing. His eyes fixated on the horizon as he watches Vhagar closing in. Him and Aemond had not seen each other in months, and Maegor is eager to be reunited with the man that made such a mess of him.

As he waits impatiently, hands clenched tightly to make his slight tremble unseen, he thinks back to the last time they had been together. It had been a brief and furtive meeting, their love hidden away in the shadows. But now, as Aemond flies towards him, Maegor cannot help but feel lightheaded, his heart racing faster than the swift Meleys.

Watching Aemond Targaryen climb off his dragon and stride confidently towards him feels like a hazy dream. Maegor's legs start to feel weaker as the distance between them is closed, a knot growing in his throat, but he knows he has to keep his controlled and stoic facade on. The only things stopping from childishly running towards him and throwing himself in his uncle's arms are the glare of his older brother and the soldiers around them watching closely.

"My Prince. It's so good to see you." Aemond greets him with a warm smile, placing both of his hands on his nephew's elbows in a subtle but tender gesture. 

Maegor feels feverish. The way his skin burns when Aemond touches him even over his tunic is all the proof he needs that this is no dream. 

"Uncle. It's good to see you too." He breathes out shakily, a mixture of feelings hit at once. 

Joy, anxiousness, relief. Maegor's controlled facade cracks swiftly and he no longer makes any attempt to appear calculated in front of the men. He lets his impulses get the best of him and pulls his uncle into a tight hug, taking Aemond by surprise. 

Eventually, reason makes Maegor let go of the older Prince, although he would've lingered in the embrace a little more. But his clothes are covered in mud and they had an audience. 

Revealing too much about the true nature of their relationship came with a lot of risks  and consequences and they both knew that. For now only Maegor's close family knew about them and it was in their interest as well to not reveal anything about it to the rest of the public. For Addam Velaryon and the rest of his men this is only a friendly display of affection between two friends. Jacaerys' knows the truth, his lips purse in irritation and disgust almost immediately.

"What is he doing here?" the dark haired Prince approaches them, scowling at his uncle.

"No. Don't start." Maegor warns. His good mood is immediately threatened to be ruined at the sound of his half brother's voice.

"Is this how you show gratitude when someone comes to your aid, nephew?" Aemond immediately responds with a taunt and the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.

"We don't need your aid." Jacaerys sneers, clenching his hands into fists, his whole body tensed up ready to lunge at him like he did that night during the feast in King's Landing.

"That's not for you to decide is it?" Aemond turns his head to look at Maegor and his violet glare immediately softens at the sight of him.

"It's not for Maegor to decide either. Did your grandfather send you so you can pick the bragging rights in his name? " Jace takes a step forward towards his uncle as a warning but his brother's hand placed firmly on his chest immediately blocks him from advancing further.

"Actually nephew, believe it or not I came here on my own. Not for your sake however." Aemond stares at him unimpressed, holding his hands behind his back.

"Get your dragon and fly back to King's Landing, we have no need for unsound men on a battlefied." Jace spats at him, hitting knowingly where it hurts the most. Words full of venom make Aemond see red and his cool demeanor snaps.

But before they can get to each other, the hand on Jace's chest blocking him moves up immediately, grabbing onto the collar of his tunic and pushing him away. Jacaerys has to walk backwards as his younger brother practically leads him away from their uncle like a dog that disobeyed his owner.

"Bloody hell, enough. You really want do this here, Jace in the middle of a war in front of all these men that are relying on us? We talked about this weeks ago or do you give no shits about that?" Maegor stops, grabbing his arm harshly as he leans to whisper in his ears only for them to hear.

 "I'm not asking you to befriend him, but at least be decent enough to tolerate him when he came to aid us when no one demanded that of him. It was you and Luke who took out his eye. Not the other way around." Maegor emphasizes in a hushed voice, careful so his uncle wouldn't hear him.

The sharp words of his younger brother eventually make Jace to take a step back, a deep breath and to stop his hostility towards Aemond. At least for now. Only because he hated seeing the hurt in Maegor's otherwise cold glare. It reminded him how miserable his younger brother looked when he cracked in front of him. Jace hates Aemond and he knows it's very unlikely he would ever change his feelings about him. Ceasing his offenses right now were only because of Maegor's sake. 

Their uncle looks at them, intrigued, wondering what his beloved nephew could whisper for Jace to give up and lay down his arms so easily. It itches his curiosity.

"Pardon my boldness my Lords. We could really use another dragonrider in the coming battle if we want to increase our chances of victory." Addam's steps forward. 

His voice draws the Princes eyes on him instantly. However, his moment of inspiration is abruptly stomped down and the commander immediately regrets opening his mouth when he sees the scowl on Jace's face directed to him.

Aemond only hums in response, looking at the commander then back at Maegor, only now noting that they are both covered in mud and looking rougher than the rest of the men. A rush of thoughts start clouding his mind fast. Unfounded jealousy starts making his face feel warm. It doesn't let it show though. 

Maegor wouldn't betray me.

When Addam meets Aemond's violet glare inspecting him from head to toe he swallows dryly. He knows that look. A dangerous glare that was seeing right through him. Looking down at the commander and reminding him that he is just a lowlife in front of the Prince. 

"Seems like the commander decided." Maegor approves quickly, before his older brother can throw anymore taunts at their uncle. He throws Addam a grateful glance before returning his full attention to the eldest Prince.

 The commander immediately notes the way Maegor's face lights up when speaking or looking at his uncle. This was new. A complete contrast to how fierce the young Prince was in battle.

Eventually the men clear the hilltop, and they head back to camp,  some relieved that they have a new powerful ally on their side, others hesitant and wary.  After all, Aemond's stingy personality and his dragon precede him. Jace is the last to depart. Reluctant to leave his brother alone with his uncle, but he eventually gives in not before throwing a few more scowls and glares at the older Prince.

Maegor suddenly finds himself at a loss of words. He wants to tell Aemond everything that happened in their months spent apart but no words manage to come out of his mouth. 

"Aemond I-"

"I've missed you so much, my Prince." Aemond suddenly closes the distance between them, not before checking their surroundings to make sure they're alone, and cups Maegor's face, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.  

As they pulled apart quickly, Maegor's eyes meet Aemond's violet one, and he feels a flush spread across his cheeks. The same feelings he got when he first saw his uncle training in the courtyard with Ser Criston. It was nostalgic

"I'll get mud on you too, uncle. I was sparing before you arrived." Hearing this puts Aemond's minds at ease. 

It was only an innocent peck on the lips but he already feels on fire and he takes a step back flustered, both by his appearance and by his uncle. Vanity was never Maegor's flaw, but he felt a bit ashamed having Aemond find him in this state, military camp or not.

Aemond simply chuckles at him with a soft expression on his face. He really did miss his nephew.

Loud rumbles suddenly interrupt the two Princes and Aemond finally notices the beast that was sizing both him and Vhagar out from a distance. He's been so distracted and delighted to see Maegor again that he completely ignored the presence of the other massive dragon residing on the cliff.

Aemond simply stares at the black dragon, entraced by him while Saagael fixes him with a cold, predatory glare that instantly reminds the Prince of his sapphire. He touches over his eyepatch with his fingers as a reflex.

It's Maegor's time to chuckle now. Seeing his uncle like this was nostalgic.

"Come, there's someone I want you to meet." Removing his dirty leather gloves, he grabs his uncle's hand, relishing in the warmth of skin to skin contact. 

His uncle indulges him immediately. He can tell his nephew endured a lot of hardships since they last saw each other. Both with his family and on the battlefield. Calloused hands from sword fighting and dragonriding, a few subtle scars adorning his face, dark circles under his nephew's odd colored eyes and just a general look of exhaustion surround Maegor. Neither of those made him uglier, in fact Aemond found him even more bewitching. He even grew a little taller since their reunion in King's Landing. War matured Maegor a lot, he exudes the raw power that made their house infamous. And for Aemond, that was more attractive than anything else. 

Maegor leads the way, still holding onto Aemond until they reach the Cannibal. He lingers his hand into his uncle's for just a moment longer before letting go. 

"A promise is a promise. I call him Saagael." The younger Prince gets between Aemond and the dragon. He begins stroking over the black scales soothingly when the beast starts growling in a threatening display at the stranger. 

Rumors that Maegor had claimed the wild dragon Cannibal as his mount, reached the Red Keep months ago and Aemond was the first to believe them, while all the others thought it was just a jest and that the Prince was still without a dragon. Before Maegor claimed him there was no one that lived to tell the tale. Having no records whatsoever about his age or origins, left a lot for interpretation, so naturally people did just that, blossoming quite the collection of tales about him. And for a long time the Cannibal became just a metaphor, an omen of death because his very existence already lingered in between the line of myth and reality, more like a phantom than a dragon. 

"There is no one else worthy of my Prince." Aemond looks almost as enthralled as he was when he first laid eyes on Vhagar. But this is different. This was his nephew's claim. 

Nostalgic memories rush Aemond as he recalls about their childhood in the Red Keep when they were only children, Maegor four years younger than him. He remembers his fascination with dragons that was unmatched by anyone in the family, even his own. They used to spend their days reading books on dragonlore together during their studies with the maesters.

 Sneaking down to the Dragonpit to get a glimpse of the beasts was also one of their favorite activities, but after the incident with the Pink Dread, Aemond never stepped in there again, not even now when he had Vhagar. She was too big and too capricious to be confined in the pit anyway, so he preferred letting her free somewhere on a hilltop or on the beach in the outskirts of King's Landing. Unlike the Cannibal, Vhagar was born and raised in the Targaryen family her whole life. She was more trustworthy in the proximity of settlements and people, albeit she was still ill tempered and deadly if disturbed by anyone else but her rider.

Aemond had always been fond of his nephew because he is someone he can relate to so deeply. From their hobbies to the burden of being the second sons in their family. And now to their dragons.

Maegor's heart swells with joy hearing those words from him. Of course, his nephew never disappointed Aemond, only he, with his headstrong character and true Targaryen blood could have claimed something that was considered just a legend not long ago. Aemond is proud and happy for him. Finally his efforts paid off and no one could dare mock the young Prince for being dragonless ever again. 

Initially Aemond flew to the Stepstones with only one thought in mind, his nephew. But now the excitement of fighting side by side with Maegor on dragon back was making his blood rush to his brain. With him riding Vhagar, a conqueror's dragon and his nephew riding the very harbinger of death, Aemond was already fantasizing about the possibilities and the unstoppable duo they could make together. 

The blood of Old Valyria.

For the Cannibal it's another story. Long teeth are bared ready to clamp down and a loud growl erupts as a warning when Aemond boldly closes the distance and hovers the hand that Maegor was holding in front of his muzzle. 

It is reckless yes, but Aemond is fascinated. He never laid his eye on a wild dragon before, and certainly not one that looked so different from his own or the ones so familiar to him in the Dragonpit.  It is also a way to unconsciously test the bond between his nephew and his mount. A distant rumble reciprocates from Vhagar who fixes her glare on the other dragon, worried about her own rider. She stays put for now, on high alert ready to come in Aemond's defense if the situation calls for. 

"Daor. Lykirī, Saagael." Maegor scolds, patting his dragon harder until he's swatting his hand against the scales to get his attention away from his uncle. The tip of a tail swiping in the grass shows his indignation and annoyance, but eventually Saagael complies to the command even if the growling remains ever present.

If this interaction happened months ago, when Maegor barely claimed the Cannibal, he is certain the dragon would have hurt or even killed Aemond for doing this. Now however, the young Prince has complete trust in the connection he shares with Saagael and the dragon himself.  

The strength of the bond, that only Caraxes and Daemon's could rival, allows Saagael to feel that something is off about his rider. Inhaling deeply and blowing warm air onto the stranger and the younger Prince, the Cannibal is confused about their shared scents so he tolerates Aemond's audacity and gesture for now, for his rider's sake. Anyone else would have lost at least half of their body by now.

Hearing his nephew speak in Valyrian after so long and witnessing the ease with which Maegor controls his ill tempered mount, lights unseen sparks across Aemond's skin. It's his turn to feel flustered, his skin burning from the heat in his body. 

However, he maintains his composure in front of his nephew as best as he can muster. After all they are still in plain sight, outside, even if the heart of the camp is quite far from them. He does not wish to startle Maegor either if he suddenly lets his feelings run freely and starts acting too brash.

────────────────────────

Eventually after the two spend more time on the hilltop in the company of each other and their dragons, just reminiscing about their time spent apart, Maegor orderes two higher ranking, trustworthy soldiers to escort Aemond around the camp. They briefly explain the situation in the Stepstones before the war council was to be summoned. 

Clear indications to "keep his older brother away from Prince Aemond" are given while Maegor excuses himself. He has to wash and change his clothes so he can look like a proper noble blood again for the small feast that is to be held in the evening for Aemond's arrival.  He also needed a bit of time alone to rearrange his already scattered thoughts. If Jace and their uncle decided to go after each other's throats again he had to stop them.

Another tent was raised, next to Maegor's at Aemond's specific request. No one questions the older Prince directly but there were some whispers here and there about the earlier stand off between him and Jacaerys. Thankfully nothing about his relationship with Maegor. No one suspects anything for now. Most assume that Aemond only wishes to be close to his dragon and away from people that might not agree with his presence here.

Later on in the biggest tent where they also held the war councils, tables are set and plates are laid out. Nothing near compared to the feasts held in Dragonstone or the Red Keep but it would have to suffice. Their rations were already mediocre and needed to be consumed with moderation, however sometimes making an exception like this was needed. Firstly because it would boost the soldiers' morale and secondly because it was common courtesy and protocol to break bread together when you had a guest such as Aemond come by. 

Even if not everyone wanted to break bread with him. Jacaerys especially, not after what happened the last time he sat at a table with Aemond.

All three princes, the commander and two knights are seated at the high table overlooking the rest of the men in the tent. A knight at the far left of the table, followed by Aemond, Maegor on his right side, Jace next to his half brother, Addam Velaryon and ending with the other knight at the far right end.

As the feast begins the soldiers drink and eat heartily, forgetting about the coming battle even if only for one night. Sun sets with the sounds of laughter, music, and clinking of goblets filling the air.

But as the night wears on, Jacaerys's anger simmers beneath the surface like a volcano ready to erupt at any time. Everytime he glances at his brother and the way he steals glances from Aemond, he's constantly reminded about their relationship.  

The feast is a tense affair, they know that, it's quite clear with how the tension between the three men is palpable.. Maegor sits between his uncle and brother, trying to act as a buffer as best as he can initially, until he gets sick of seeing Jace constantly scowling at him and feeling his glare on the back of his neck. So he decides to start drinking. A mistake on his part.

He never really favored alcohol because of how it clouds ones mind and Aegon was already a good example of why he should stay sober at all costs. But right now he needs his mind hazy so he can shut out his brother and the war. To focus on what really matters. Aemond.

Only three glasses of Arbor wine later, Maegor's head is already spinning. Morning will be hell for his stomach and head.

"I think that's enough for tonight, nephew." Aemond says, gently stopping Maegor from pouring himself a fourth glass. He listens to the older Prince and sets the wine bottle on the table immediately, nodding in approval with no complains. 

It's his first time drinking more than one glass. No one can blame him for being a lightweight.

Jace sneers at the sight of his half brother acting like an obedient puppy. 

No one really pays attention to Jacaerys, especially not his brother. Maegor really feels drunk now. Sighing, he shifts in his chair that already feels like it's moving under him. Or is the ceiling moving? He can't tell.

A gust of warm air against his ear immediately makes his body tense up. 

Maegor meets his uncle's violet eye as Aemond leans over and swallows drily. Now that he was dizzy from all the alcohol, Aemond was affecting him even worse than before. But he was feeling bold. 

 Maegor toys with the rim of his empty wine goblet as Aemond leans in even closer to him, a sly smirk playing on his lips.

"If you're feeling unwell and wish to leave." Aemond begins, his voice low and smooth, "You only need say so, nephew." 

Maegor chuckles softly, leaning in slightly towards Aemond as well so he can indulge in his flirting. 

"Will you take care of me, uncle?

Aemond's smirk deepens as he reaches under the table to brush his fingers against Maegor's hand. 

Jace watches them constantly. Aemond leans in again, his breath warm against Maegor's ear as he whispers something that makes Maegor laugh and his face flush with a deeper shade of red. It makes Jace's blood boil with fury.

He can't understand why Maegor is so taken with Aemond. He was no better than his Hightower mother and grandfather. Especially not after the chaos he caused when they were in King's Landing. In his opinion, his brother had nothing in common with their uncle. 

As the night goes on, the courting between Maegor and Aemond becomes more and more apparent but thankfully the men are far too drunk by now to notice. Even the commander is lost in his wine, blocking everything and everyone around him as he's trying to forget about the war for now.

Maegor and the older Prince keep exchanging sly smiles and flirtatious touches, getting bolder by the minute. When Aemond reaches over to brush a stray lock of hair from his nephew's eyes then his hand reaches under the table to rest on Maegor's thigh in plain view, that's when the volcano finally errupts. 

Jacaerys can't stand it anymore.

"What in the seven hells do you think you're doing?" he grabs Maegor by his arm harshly, yanking his brother towards him so he can sneer in his face in a hushed whisper.

Maegor raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing at his lips. He's obviously very drunk.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Jacaerys?" he asks, his voice slightly slurred and taunting. 

"It looks like you're making a mockery of our family," Jacaerys spats only for them to hear. "You're both disgusting."

Aemond shoots Jace a deadly look, hitting his fist against the table. 

"This does feel familiar wouldn't you say nephew?" he says sharply, reminding Jace about the last feast they attended together. After all Jacaerys was the one who initially provoked Aemond back then as well.

Maegor leans back in his seat, shrugging off his brother's hand from his arm, an amused look on his face. 

"Jacaerys, Jacaerys, always so quick to judge and act." he chided. 

"It's not funny, Maegor. It's sickening. I'm just wondering how you could betray our mother like this." Jacaerys shakes his head, his face red with anger but he restrains himself from shouting and risk everyone else hear them.

"Always been mother's favorite little boy." Maegor's smile fades fast. Another reminder of how Rhaenyra will never consider him an equal to his half brothers, despite her claiming that she loves each of her children all the same. 

"It's disrespectful to our family." Jacaerys shoots back ignoring what he says about their mother.

"You don't get to decide what's disrespectful, Jacaerys. I haven't betrayed anyone." Maegor replies tracing the handle of the knife next to his plate. 

Despite drinking a few glasses as well Aemond is as sober as he can be. For now he decides to watch his nephews closely and only intervene if really necessary. As much as he dislikes Jace, even he knows they need to stop bickering for once otherwise they'll have no chance on fighting side by side and actually win. But he will protect Maegor if the situation escalates.

Jacaerys shoots up from his chair at Maegor fists trembling and knuckles white from anger. Surprisingly he doesn't say anything. He knows he can't win this argument right now. Not when his brother is drunk and Aemond acts like his guard dog.

For the sake of his half brother and the sake of this war's outcome, Jace finally acts with a bit of wisdom. Before he says something he will regret, he turns on his heels and marches back out of the feast and back to his tent, seething with anger and frustration.

The commander shoots Maegor a confused look but the Prince shrugs it off, rolling his eyes. He quickly turns back to Aemond as if nothing ever happened, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"Where were we?" He whispers under his breath, leaning against his uncle's shoulder.

Aemond wants to comfort his nephew initially, ask if he is feeling alright, but decides to laugh softly instead. He never imagined Maegor could change so much from just a little bit of wine. Although, he can't say he dislikes it.

"I believe we were discussing the merits of conquering the Stepstones." Aemond says his voice low and husky.

Maegor chuckles.

"Ah yes, that," he says, leaning in closer to Aemond.

"But I have a feeling there are more interesting things we could be discussing."

"And what might those be, my Prince?" he asks feigning innocence, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Maegor leans in even closer, his breath hot against Aemond's ear. 

"I think you know, uncle" he whispers, his lips brushing against Aemond's skin.

Aemond shivers with pleasure, a smile spreading across his face. He should be the voice of reason, Aemond knows it. He should take his nephew back to his tent and make sure he rests off his drunken state. But the way Maegor keeps enticing him and riling him up like this is making Aemond crazy. He feels drunk as well, but not because of the wine.

"I think I do." Aemond pauses briefly so he can squeeze Maegor's inner thigh under the table. He can't tell if the smolthering heat is coming off from him or his nephew.  

"And I think we should discuss them in private." 

Reason can wait for tonight, Aemond decides.  

Maegor smirks, overly confident. The alcohol in his system really making him not think straight. He completely forgets how flustered he was hours ago when him and Aemond were talking next to their dragons.

"Lead the way."

────────────────────────

The older Prince barely manages to drag his nephew back to his tent all the way on the hilltop. It's not like Maegor is so drunk that he can't walk, sure he is a bit clumsy on his feet, but that isn't the main issue. 

He kept getting bold and handsy while they were walking through the camp and Aemond had to pretend he was just  taking care of his overly drunk nephew while mustering every crumb of willpower and restraint left in himself so he wouldn't claim the younger Prince right there, behind all the tents.

"You should rest Maegor, you're drunk." Aemond says, trying to act rational again. He guides his nephew to sit on the side of the bed and helps him out of his boots.

Out of nowhere, Maegor reaches him and roughly grabs the collar of his uncle's tunic, hauling Aemond forward and pressing their mouths together in a searing, but sloppy kiss.

A muffled gasp escapes Aemond's mouth as he grips Maegor's arms hard to steady himself from falling completely on top of him. But he does not push him away. He is too overwhelmed, assaulted by Maegor's lips on his, his tongue in his mouth, his rough hands on his neck. 

Carnal desires and sex repulsed Aemond. He had to thank Aegon's 'birthday gift' for that. Only he would be vile enough to bring his thirteen year old brother to a brothel in Flea Bottom and pay whores to have them force themselves on him. All while Aemond was desperately crying and begging to go home.

This was entirely different though. It was not only about lust. The way he can physically feel the yearning that draws him to Maegor course through every vein and artery makes it feel so natural. Like they were always meant to be together. To burn together.

He sends reason to all seven hells for a second time tonight. 

Aemond pushes Maegor until he's lying flat on his back against the furs in the bed. He can no longer restrain the way he pines for his nephew. Aemond begins kissing him like a man possessed. 

The lack of oxygen sobers Maegor slightly but he doesn't push his uncle away, not even when Aemond tightens his grip on his arms. Maegor groans in his mouth, his hands running each side of the older Prince's neck. Aemond's skin is burning hotter than dragon fire under his touch.

Maegor head is spinning. It feels like he's getting torched alive under Aemond's fire and assault of touches. His mouth is so possessive and greedy on top of his, his lips taste like Arbor wine and something entirely Aemond's as they press hard against Maegor's own. 

Maegor groans again and gives in, letting himself slip even further into the sensation and the drowning. He begins to kiss back, just as hard as he's given. The way he was starving for this all these years. 

And will always be starving. Maegor knows this is a hunger that will never be sated. The flame that had been simmering inside him ever since Aemond marked his mind with his words years back explodes into a roaring fire, demanding more, more, more. 

I may have lost an eye but I gained a dragon.

Maegor hands run upwards until he grabs Aemond's face roughly and presses his fingers into his sharp cheekbones, forcing his tongue into his mouth and biting at his lips, clashing teeth from his lack of experience. 

Aemond doesn't pull away even when he can taste the blood on his tongue, just chases Maegor's mouth harder, starved akin to his nephew. Maegor's hands move from his uncle's face to his long silver hair where he tangles his fingers in it, lost in the softness of it. 

"Can I see you uncle?" Maegor suddenly asks out of breath as they still for a moment.

Aemond immediately knows what he's referring to. He hesitates at first but eventually nods in approval. If there's only one who can see him bare and vulnerable it's Maegor.

The younger Prince gently uses his hands to untie the straps that hold the eyepatch in place and he lets it fall against the furs next to them.

By now Maegor is completely sober. He begins to kiss along the scar until he reaches the sapphire where he places a gentle kiss there as well, a bit afraid to cause any pain. His uncle closes his good eye on reflex before Maegor draws back.

"You're so beautiful." Maegor finds himself whispering, lost in the pool of violet that stares at him.

And he really means it. The way his uncle's silver hair falls like a curtain, the way the sapphire glows dimly in the candle light. The scar hasn't made Aemond any uglier, despite the people's bad gossip. For Maegor, his uncle is ethereal in his eyes. Always has been.

The way Maegor looks at him, not only with pupils blown wide with desire but also admiration. The way his nephew's words hit Aemond unexpectedly, make his heart jump furiously against his ribcage. No one has ever told him that. No one has ever made him feel like this. 

Aemond is at a loss of words. He sucks a sharp breath and leans back in.

Just like that, the moment of vulnerability is quickly left behind as the two Prince begin making out furiously again, and despite the blood rushing in Maegor's ears, he can still hear Aemond's gasping breaths and pants against his lips and skin. The noise of their hearts drumming in tandem.

The sounds go straight to Maegor's already painfully hard cock. When he opens his eyes half-way he sees his uncle looking down at him, as if he's holding himself back, his single eye blown wide with arousal. 

"I need you, uncle." Maegor pleads. His voice coming out cracked.

He tugs at the clasps of Aemond's tunic and indirectly at his sanity.

Aemond feels himself going crazy. With that, he presses Maegor further against the furs in his bed with renewed force, hands dropping down and unbuttoning their tunics. Maegor feels completely out of control, he allows letting his uncle take the lead because he enjoys it thoroughly. 

He's never felt anything like this before, never felt so hot and shaky and heated. Not even when they had their first heated moment back at the Red Keep.He can't think of anything other than Aemond's lips, Aemond's hands, Aemond's bare chest — Aemond. Aemond. Aemond.

Maegor gasps as he presses his hands against his uncle's skin, feeling the tensed muscle of his chest and arms flexing under his touch. Aemond's breath is ragged now.

He finally pulls Maegor's tunic off, along with his undershirt, exposing his bare torso, then moves his attention to remove his pants as well.

Suddenly, Maegor lets out a small cry that surprises them both as Aemond squeezes his ass and grabs a hold of his thighs, lifting him up so he can carelessly throw the piece of garment away. 

Maegor swallows his ragged breaths, looking away, face flushed red, his cock already leaking. He's completely naked now, laid out bare in front of his uncle's eye. It feels a bit embarrassing displaying himself like this for the first time.

For the the older Prince it feels like he's unraveling a nicely wrapped gift. Aemond stills himself for a moment so he can drink in the image of his nephew and burn it into his mind. Maegor's face was not the only thing that matured because of the war, Aemond pleasantly finds out. Thin scars were scattered across his body as well, his muscles toned from all the fighting. Even if he is shorter than him still, Maegor's shoulders and back were wider than Aemond's, his thighs stronger than he recalls. 

Suddenly the pants feel agonizingly tight for the older Prince and he fumbles to discard them as well, hastily stripping bare under his nephew's fiery gaze that doesn't leave him for one second.

With renewed confidence, no longer fueled by alcohol but by pure desire alone, Maegor wraps his legs around Aemond's waist pressing his uncle closer, relishing in the molten heat of skin to skin contact. 

Aemond drops Maegor in the middle of the bed and quickly crawls on top of him, carding his fingers through Maegor's silver locks as they begin kissing heatedly again. 

They both moan in unison when their cocks brush against each other.

"Maegor..." Aemond lets out a breathy moan, brow furrowed in the torture of denied pleasure. He knows he has to take it slow. But he's fighting his most primal instincts.

Maegor only grunts, bucking his hips up to chase the same pleasure again.

Aemond presses his whole body on top of him, mouth open in another moan, burying his face into Maegor's neck and gripping his hips to ground himself. This was real. It was really happening.

 The younger Prince gasps and grinds their hips together, chasing the heat and ecstasy. He wraps his arms around his uncle's shoulders and tangles his fingers again through the curtain of silver.

Maegor's never done this before, never sought pleasure before his reunion with Aemond. Even during the rare times, when he jerked off it was only to blow off steam and never to sate his desires. 

It's only Aemond. It's always been Aemond. And Maegor allows him to claim his body the same way he claimed his heart.

Aemond knows this, even as he grinds them together, leaking cocks rubbing together, he still does not forget to kiss his nephew and treat him gently. To ease his mind and make him relax because he never had this privilege when his virginity was forcefully stolen away from him.

The older Prince trails down along Maegor's jaw until he reaches his neck. He begins mouthing kisses along the skin, licking a stripe across the jugular. Then he goes lower and lower kissing a trail along his body, down Maegor's chiseled abdomen. 

Aemond stops to spit in his palm and takes his nephew into his hand. Maegor's mind is wiped completely blank. He's so painfully aroused he feels as if he might die right now.

The hand squeezes Maegor's flushed cock, rubbing circles at the weeping slit.  

"Qybor!" He gasps, shutting his eyes closed.

Hearing the endearment in Valyrian pulls a groan out of Aemond's throat. He wants to worship his nephew and devour him whole at the same time.

"I don't know how much longer I can hold on. If you want to stop tell me now, Maegor." Aemond's low voice vibrates against the burning skin of the other. On instinct, the younger Prince sinks his nails in his uncle's shoulders, harsher than he intends to.

"No. No, don't stop. I want this." He sits up, resting on his elbows to look at Aemond. "I want you." He breathes out but before he can finish the sentence he sees Aemond dipping down between his legs.

A hand trails downward, over Maegor's thigh. His breath hitches, hands twisting in long silver hair, as Aemond's lips ghost tentatively over his leaking cock. But they do not touch. Not yet.

Maegor feels like he's being slowly punished as his uncle starts kissing up each leg. The younger Prince tugging at his hair, pleading to feel some kind of touch, any touch as Aemond's lips skim close to the throbbing erection. He fondles his balls suddenly and Maegor keens.

The older Prince presses his tongue against his nephew's hole out of nowhere and Maegor cries out, hands darting back to tanlge into the silver locks.

"Don't! It's dirty!" Maegor gasps and throws his head back against the furs.

But Aemond doesn't stop. He traces his nephew's hole with his tongue, dipping inside, teasing only briefly. Maegor bites down on his own tongue, to keep himself from howling in ecstasy. Aemond hums in approval against the sensitive skin, pressing his lips to the trembling entrance, before swiping his tongue over it.

Drawing back, Aemond almost groans out loud at the sight of his saliva already dampening his nephew's hole. It's slick, waiting to be spread wide and claimed only by him alone.

"Please uncle." Maegor begs, the irritation of being denied release almost too much to bear.

"Hush. If we don't do this it will be too painful for you." Aemond kisses the milky skin of his nephew's inner thighs soothingly. 

Thankfully even if he lacks experience, Aemond studied enough books and heard plenty of unwanted information - mostly from his brother - to know how the whole bedding process was done without causing unnecessary pain to Maegor. Although everything he heard was about women, but he imagines it's not so different with men. 

Aemond hums, lifting up Maegor's legs to place them around his shoulders. He dips back down to kiss at the puckered hole. His tongue prods at it, pushing just past the tight ring of muscles. Maegor's legs shake and his hands twist in his uncle's long hair. 

"Oh gods.." Maegor moans. Aemond's tongue goes deeper with its next push. His thumb drags at the rim, testing the way the muscle stretches and resists at the intrusion.

Aemond grunts, his tongue still in Maegor's ass and his mouth seals around the hole. By now Maegor can practically feel the tears stinging at his eyes from the waves of pleasure he is constantly hit with. 

Aemond pushes one finger in, getting to the second knuckle before Maegor clenches tightly around him at the pressure.

Maegor drags a fur on his face to muffle all the sinful sounds that keep coming out of his throat. His face presses against it, panting, every breath heavy and gasping. His mouth is open, his back arched, and his legs spread wide, wrapped around his uncle. 

"You have to relax, nephew." Aemond reminds him in a ragged breath, removing his tongue from his hole. The older Prince has his cock leaking between his legs only from showering Maegor with attention. He allows his nephew to let his legs fall down from his shoulders before he gets a cramp.

"It feels weird." Maegor gasps, removing the fur from his face and clinging onto Aemond as he embraces him soothingly. He removes his fingers from his ass to lean over and grab a vial of oil on the nightstand. It's oil meant for maintaining swords but it will suffice.

He pours a generous amount in his hand before he dips it back between the pair of trembling legs, open just for him. Maegor keeps feeling the way Aemond hooks his finger back inside him, pushing at the walls gently as he breaches deeper. 

"Lykiri, Maegor. " Aemond whispers, kissing his neck. 

Maegor's sanity crumbles and he whines at the command. His body trembling, as he takes a  breath - long and slow, preparing himself. It's Aemond's queue to go further, pushing around his rim with a second finger oiled up and slick, never drawing the first one out. It pushes deeper in fact, wiggling and pressing at Maegor's inner walls insistently.

Once Aemond works the second and third finger inside, Maegor is gulping down breaths. His pupils blown wide until they almost overtake his odd colored irises. Not a speck of color was visible in dim light when he leans over to kiss his nephew's bruised lips.

"There you go, good boy." Aemond praises against his ear, relishing in the way Maegor shudders under him. 

He pulls his fingers out to the first knuckle. Aemond spreads them apart at the rim, listening to the way Maegor's breath hitches at the stretch. When he shoves them back inside as deep as he can get and curls them, Maegor practically screams. His voice breaks down in a moan as he almost climaxes just from that.

Aemond spreads out his fingers a few more times. Slowly, making sure the younger Prince is stretched out properly to take him.

Panting against him, Maegor licks across his uncle's neck, mouthing against it softly to urge him to hurry up. 

"Kostilus qybor." Maegor writhes, fisting at the furs under him. He starts shifting his hips upward trying to push his uncle's fingers deeper inside. 

Aemond swallows thickly, deciding there was no use torturing them both any longer.

"You will stop me if it hurts." Aemond demands, the last thing he wants causing pain to his nephew. 

He pours some of that sword oil against Maegor's twitching hole then onto his own cock. He uses one hand to spread the oil properly, biting his tongue and grunting when he finally touches himself. 

Maegor's legs wrap around his waist again. Aemond keeps a steady hand on Maegor's hip, gripping him tightly when he begins to line up against his hole.

He starts pushing, Maegor crying out silently at the initial pain of the intrusion, his head falling back.

Aemond tightens his grip on his hips this time with both hands. When the tip of his cock finally breaches inside and stretches him open, Maegor's eyes go open wide, his mouth falling open. A silent, strangled moan escapes as his uncle slowly pushes deeper. It's painful but not unbearable. Maegor soon finds out how quickly the pain of being stretched out is replaced by bliss.

Everything in his mind gets thrown into a void when Aemond bottoms out, sheathing himself inside the younger Prince. He musters every bit of strength to not spill his seed right then. It's pure ecstasy. That tight, burning, wet heat threatens to unravel him.

Aemond presses their foreheads together searching for Maegor's eyes. His nephew nods silently, too lost in the pleasure to give verbal reassurance.

Aemond licks his lips, kissing him slowly and ardently as he begins to move, pulling out halfway, slowly before pushing back in. It's a torturous pace for him but he needs to get Maegor used to the size first.

Slowly but surely, by now each thrust has Maegor rocking back, begging for more. Aemond find his sweet spot in a few tries and then every thrust has Maegor moaning, screaming his name out and clawing at his back and shoulders.

As much as he wishes he could let his nephew yell to his heart contents, Aemond silences him with deep, starving kisses. Even if the tent was on the cliff, far from the main camp who knows how the wind might carry his cries.

"Aemond.. I can't!" Maegor warns, arching his back.

At first he thinks Aemond is teasing him when he drags his cock slowly out, leaving just the tip inside. 

"Ȳdra daor tymagon, qybo-" Maegor want to cry out in frustration, but Aemond does not let him finish his complaint.

He rams back inside his nephew and Maegor lets out a strangled scream against the lips that hush him, his whole body convulsing from the way his orgasm hits him. He glues on his uncle's body as his cum spills between their stomachs. 

Fingers bury into Aemond's hair, nails painfully digging into his scalp, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, heels in his back, ass squeezing him painfully. 

Maegor's body is like a trap holding him in place, clenching tighter and tigher around Aemond like a vice grip until he can no longer resist it.

"Ñuha zaldrīzes. Ñuhon." Aemond pants hotly against his face, moans and breathy groans slipping past his lips. 

The older Prince thrusts in a shallow and uneven pace until his own seed is milked by Maegor's ass. He comes with a moan against his nephew's sweaty locks of hair. Aemond rides out his orgasm, rutting into the younger Prince, before he finally slumps on top of him, both panting like tired hounds after a hunt.

The scorching heat of their love making quickly fades out and is replaced by the cold bite of the night breeze, slipping inside the tent. Aemond pulls the furs to cover their bodies before he tugs Maegor into a tight embrace, exhausted limbs tangling in each other. 

His uncle is staring straight at Maegor, their faces inches away, his white hair beautifully tousled against the pillows. If he wasn't so tired Maegor would kiss him again and again until they would end up in a panting mess again.

"Rest, my Prince." Aemond reads his mind and places a gentle kiss on Maegor's lips instead, brushing the hair from his sweaty forehead before kissing it as well.

"Avy jorrāelan, Aemond. Vēzos qēlossās ñuho" 

────────────────────────

Translations:

Lykiri = Calm down

Qybor= Uncle

Kostilus qybor = Please uncle

Ȳdra daor tymagon, qybor = Don't tease, uncle

Ñuha zaldrīzes = My dragon

 Ñuhon = Mine

Avy jorrāelan, Aemond = I love you, Aemond

Vēzos qēlossās ñuho = My sun and stars

[ekat-fandom-blog]

Reverse Batfam AU

I don't have all of the Batfam in this line-up because I don't know them at all. There are some that I'm not in any way confident I could characterise so I might make a second version of this with the more well known Batfam members and exclude Duke, Steph, Cass, and Barbara. But, for now I do like my idea. I'm not planning to write a fic or anything with this so if anyone wants to use this specifically, go ahead.

But this is extremely long so everything's under the read more link.

I had to mess around with ages quite a bit because otherwise things do not fit at all. I did want them to come into the family in reverse order as well as reverse their ages.

Age differences: Duke->Damian - 1 year younger Damian->Steph - 4 years older Steph->Tim - 1 year younger Tim->Cass - 3 years older Cass->Jason - 6 months younger Jason->Dick - 4 years older Dick->Barbara - 1 year older

Oldest to youngest: Damian, Duke, Tim, Steph, Jason, Cass, Dick, Barbara

Ages when Dick arrived: Dick 8, Cass 12, Jason 12, Tim 15, Steph 14, Damian 18, Duke 17

Ages when Barbara joined: Barbara 14, Dick 15, Cass 18, Jason 19, Tim 21, Steph 20, Damian 24, Duke 23

Their Stories:

Duke Thomas- The first ward since he was taken in after Damian in canon (as far as I remember). Got into hero business at around the age of 9 because his parents got caught in a Joker attack and he created a "We Are The Knight" group consisting of kids that had suffered from the aftermath of the various villain attacks. A few years later, he became Batman's second sidekick - Signal. After moving out of Wayne manor kept the moniker and joined the Outsiders hero group. He still works with Batman but tries to keep his distance due to him being overbearing. He remembers growing up with Damian being hard, but they mended their relationship by the time Damian moved out. He survived Damian because (1) he wasn't adopted, (2) his parents are still alive, and (3) his powers.

Damian Wayne al Ghul- He took great pleasure in ridiculing Duke for everything from his hero name to his role in the family, but eventually grew to really enjoyed his younger brother's company (even though he'd never admit they were brothers or that he enjoyed Duke's company.) He became Batman's first sidekick, Shadow, (at the age of 10. he arrived 1 month after Duke.) as tribute to both his time spent in League of Shadows and his start to becoming Batman's shadow. He created a teen group outside of Gotham called the Titans (composed of him, Superboy, Raven, and Beast Boy) when he and Bruce started fighting but never quite left Gotham entirely.

Stephanie Brown- She joined the crusade as Spoiler at 11 and lasted only a year before being killed by Black Mask. However, that was enough time for Damian (16 when she died), Duke (15), and Bruce to become attached to her. Her death (and Bruce's subsequent burst of overprotection leading him to kick out Damian and Duke) caused Damian to shed the mantle of Shadow and become Nightwing. She does come back 6 months later leaving the others feeling confused and a bit betrayed, but mostly happy she wasn't actually dead. She creates the moniker Batgirl after Bruce tells her she can't be Spoiler any more.

Tim Drake- He joined the crusade at 13, 4 months after Spoiler's death, which hit Bruce really hard, caused a fight between Damian and Bruce (that ended with Damian and Duke moving out), and Batman became more violent than he had ever been. After failing to convince Damian and Duke to join Batman on patrol and stop avoiding him, he became Drake. Damian didn't like him initially, but tried to be there when Tim needed him. Damian also convinced Tim to change him moniker to Shadow because "Drake" was too close to his name to be effective at hiding his identity. Before Steph came back, he went through the Joker Jr thing and Batman and Signal helped him recover from the majority of it since Nightwing was on a Titans mission. He was just finishing up his training with Shiva when Cass joined the crusade. He was officially adopted one year later shortly after his parents died (because Steph and Cass were around to catch onto his shenanigans).

Cassandra Cain- She joined at 10 years old shortly after Tim did and shortly before Jason did. She originally called herself Orphan, but switched to Black Bat once she was adopted by Bruce.

Jason Todd- He joins a few months after Cass does (age 11) and gets adopted quickly. He and Tim get along extremely well and bond by making fun of Bruce. He takes on the moniker of Batboy when he joins the crusade. He avoids dying in Ethiopia because his siblings decided to go after him while Batman was investigating the illegal weapons trade there.

Dick Grayson- He becomes Bruce's ward at age 8. The entire Batfam was there when his parents died. Everyone's there when he shows everyone his first suit designs and the moniker he chose and why. They try very hard to convince him to choose darker colors and add more armor. He stanchly refuses because he wants his hero name and uniform to honor his parents. They do manage to convince him to add pants to the design. He convinces Alfred to make the suit with the promise that he won't go out until he has Bruce's approval. He doesn't uphold that promise and is crime fighting by the time he's 9.

Barbara Gordon- She'd been watching the bats for a few years before she decided she wanted to become a vigilante as well at age 14. She followed Batgirl for a while asking to be her sidekick or help with the tech stuff. After a few 'no's, she created her own outfit made out of Spoiler, Black Bat, and Batwoman halloween costumes. Names she came up with for herself were Red Bat, Batshadow, and Batlady. When she officially joined the group, Steph gave her the Batgirl moniker and took back the name Spoiler.

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Authors On THG Writing Hiatus Masterlist (11)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 /

***Active (on this blog) is defined as a blog/writer who has updated within the past year. Inactive (on this blog) is defined as a blog/writer that has not been updated at all in the past year+. On THG Writing Hiatus (on this blog) is a blog/writer who has updated within the past year but has not posted a fanfic in the fandom in the past year BUT they may return to writing in the future. Lists will be updated as needed based on activity. ***

Created: December 27th, 2023

Last Checked:---

78bathsheba :: ao3, tumblr

Popular Fic: Seven Years-Peeta was in the hospital garden, hands in the dirt planting herbs, when the good Dr. Aurelius came to tell him he could go home. “Where will you be going now?” he asked, and only Peeta could hear the undercurrent of excitement that laced the question. There it is, he thought wearily. Even the man who knows my deepest, darkest secrets expects me to go running back to District 12. To her. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I think I'm just going to travel for a bit.” He could almost hear the doctor’s heart breaking over the sound of his own.

Ally147writes :: ao3, everlark fanfic gifts, everlark fanfic exchange, tumblr

Popular Fic: Cake Crumbs-A collection of all the stories and drabbles I've contributed to Everlark Birthday Gifts on Tumblr. Ratings will change depending on the story. If not otherwise stated, assume each chapter hovers around a T rating.

annieoakley1 :: ao3, tumblr

Popular Fic: The First Time-Everlark the summer of 2012. When Peeta is about to go off to college, Katniss starts to see him in a different light.

asmileyoucouldbottle :: ao3, writing tumblr, main tumblr

Popular fic: always and together-One night, Katniss hears Peeta upset from night terrors, and goes to him. There, she makes a vow to herself and him to stop pushing him away and stand by him. Takes place a month after Peeta and Katniss move back to District 12.

everlarktoast :: ao3, tumblr

Popular Fic: Study Date-Katniss and Peeta are keeping their relationship hidden from their conservative parents, but what happens when Mr. Everdeen finds them kissing during an innocent study date? A fluffy, cute, funny and a lil bit sexy ever lark drabble (I'm ktanissevrdeen on Tumblr, come say hi!)

Gamemakers :: ao3, ffnet, tumblr

Popular Fic: Quicksilver-Dearest Diary, Two events of note occurred today. First, I realized that Peeta Mellark, who just yesterday I considered an ally and possible friend, is an irredeemable prat. Second, I became betrothed to him. London, 1793. After a life spent on her family’s country estate, the time has finally come for the Everdeen sisters to be introduced to the London elite. Katniss will do anything to ensure her younger sister does not fall into the wrong hands, but surrounded by strangers, she has no way of judging Prim’s many suitors’ intentions. Enter Peeta Mellark, the youngest brother of the Earl of Panem and a longtime fixture of the ton. He seems the perfect ally, but Peeta has intentions of his own, and Katniss’ spinsterhood may not be as safe as she believes.

JavisTG :: ao3, ff.net, tumblr

Popular Fic: One VictorThe hot summer sun-kissed Katniss' cheeks, and she felt its warmth spreading throughout her body. The tiniest of smiles danced on her lips. But this wasn't the right time for public displays of euphoria. Not when Tessa Monroe, the 15-year-old girl old whose name had been called, was making her way towards the stage in front of them; walking in a straight line towards imminent death. Canon-divergent "what-if". Prim isn't reaped.

jeeno2 :: ao3, ffnet, tumblr

Popular Fic: Little Green"Hi," Peeta says quietly; almost shyly. "I'm your daddy, and…" His voice cracks on the word daddy, and Katniss' heart clenches painfully inside her chest. "I'm your daddy," Peeta continues. Stronger this time. "I've waited so very long to meet you." A post-Mockingjay AU.

thegirlonpeetamellark :: ao3, ff.net, tumblr

Popular Fic: Next to You"She closed her eyes and saw his perfectly chiseled face and then imagined those boxers of his falling to the floor before he got in the shower. The last thing she needed was to be attracted to Rye Mellark's older brother." Desperate for a place to live, Katniss moves in with her friend, Rye, who has always had a crush on her. Then she meets his older brother, Peeta. Modern Day AU.

titania522 :: ao3, prompts in panem, tumblr

Popular Fic: Good Again-"The sun was rising, fingers of glorious orange, red and yellow crawling across the sky. The window appeared as a frame around a picture, dawn’s ascent bursting from the folds of a delicate skirt the color of burnt copper. I sighed and turned back to Peeta, holding his hand against my cheek." After all they have experienced, Katniss and Peeta realize that things can be good again. *Winner of the Everlark Smut Awards for Best Shower Scene and Second Place for Best Mockingjay Smut* Winner for Best Growing Together Fic - Nighlockrecs Reader's Choice Awards

[mysticinsightstarot]

Alright, let's dive into your detailed tarot spread for the rest of August, September, and that potential travel next week! 🎴✨

Rest of August

1. Current Energy: 7 of Swords You're playing a game of strategy right now. 🕵️‍♂️ Maybe you’re holding back, not revealing all your cards (pun intended) because you sense some trickiness in your surroundings. It’s like you’re a chess master, anticipating the moves of others before they even think of them.

2. Challenges: 4 of Pentacles Oof, you’re clinging tight, aren’t you? 🪙 Whether it’s money, emotions, or even your thoughts, you’re holding on for dear life. But darling, sometimes letting go allows more to flow in. Fear of loss might be clouding your judgment right now.

3. Opportunities: Ace of Cups & The Sun HELLOOO, new beginnings and happiness! 🌞💧 The universe is like, “Here’s a fresh start, hun.” Whether it’s love, creativity, or something that just fills your heart, this is a BIG YES from the cosmos. And The Sun? Oh, you’re about to shine so brightly, everyone’s gonna need sunglasses to look at you.

4. Outcome by the End of August: Judgment Time for reflection and awakening. 🌅 You’ll be hearing a call, loud and clear—maybe it’s time to forgive, move on, or step into your true purpose. It’s like the universe is blowing a trumpet in your face, asking, “Are you ready to level up?”

September Overview

5. General Energy of the Month: 3 of Wands You’re looking ahead, my love, planning for the future. 🌄 September is all about expansion, vision, and waiting for those ships to come in. You’re ready to explore new horizons, and you’ve got the patience to see things through.

6. Key Focus: 8 of Wands WOOOSH! Things are about to speed up. 🚀 Communication, travel, decisions—you name it, it’s happening fast. So, buckle up because September isn’t waiting for anyone.

7. Biggest Challenge: King of Swords, Death, Hierophant & 6 of Pentacles Whoa, a power-packed combo here. ⚔️🔮 The challenge? Making decisions with clarity and authority (King of Swords), embracing transformation (Death), sticking to your values (Hierophant), and balancing giving with receiving (6 of Pentacles). You might feel like you’re going through a bit of a rebirth—don’t resist it. Let go of the old to make room for the new.

8. Advice for September: Temperance, 2 of Cups & Queen of Cups Balance is key, darling. 🌈 Keep your cool, blend your energies, and stay emotionally grounded (Temperance). There’s a sweet partnership or relationship energy here (2 of Cups), so nurture those connections. And with the Queen of Cups, let your intuition guide you, honey. Be loving, compassionate, and a little bit psychic.

9. End of Month Outcome: Empress & 10 of Pentacles You’re the queen of abundance! 👑 September ends with you feeling like the Empress, surrounded by comfort, creativity, and maybe even some family vibes. And with the 10 of Pentacles? Long-term success, legacy, and stability are on the horizon. You’re building something that lasts.

Travel Next Week

10. Is There a Travel Opportunity? 7 of Pentacles, 9 of Swords & The Fool Looks like travel’s been on your mind, but you’re overthinking it, love. 🧳 With the 7 of Pentacles, you’ve been patiently waiting, but the 9 of Swords says there’s some anxiety. However, The Fool is here to say, “Take the leap!” Whether it’s a planned trip or a spontaneous adventure, the universe is nudging you to go for it.

11. When Could This Travel Happen? The Chariot Sooner than you think! 🏎️ The Chariot is all about movement, so pack your bags because this trip could happen quickly, maybe even early next week. It’s all about taking control and charging ahead.

12. Where Might You Travel? The Devil & Page of Pentacles Hmm, this could be somewhere that tempts you or pulls you into a new opportunity. 🌆 The Devil suggests there might be some strings attached or it’s a place that’s hard to resist. The Page of Pentacles? It’s likely somewhere practical, maybe related to work or study. A mix of indulgence and responsibility.

13. How Will the Travel Unfold? 3 of Swords & The Hermit This journey might bring some introspection, and not all of it will be easy. 🛤️ The 3 of Swords hints at a possible emotional challenge, maybe even a moment of heartbreak or realization. But The Hermit? This trip could be deeply spiritual or enlightening, helping you see things from a new perspective.

14. Advice for This Trip: Ace of Pentacles Look for the new opportunity, darling. 🌱 This travel could open doors, so keep your eyes peeled for that golden chance. Whether it’s a new job, project, or even just a fresh start, the Ace of Pentacles is telling you to grab it!

Bottom of the Deck: The Tower Okay, the Tower as the underlying energy means there’s some BIG change coming, probably unexpected. ⚡ This could be the universe’s way of clearing out the old to make way for the new. Whatever it is, just know that it’s all part of the process—stay flexible and ready to adapt.

And there you have it! 🌟 Seems like the rest of August and September are gonna be a wild ride with some significant shifts and potential travels. The universe is shaking things up, but in a good way—just remember to keep your cool and go with the flow. And hey, while you’re at it, why not blast "Dangerously" by Charlie Puth on repeat? It’s definitely giving those intense, passionate vibes. 🎶

[starspatter]

Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 24

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 3,040 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23

Also on ff.net and AO3.

For the nights I won't make it through, I spend beside you, while holding onto your hand Telling me I will and I can, I pray every night that days like this will never end Painting colors vivid and bright I see every time I go ahead and close my eyes Just what should I do so everything remains the same?

-Kenshi Yonezu, "Eine Kleine"

————————–

Now.

Tim was bored.

The heat of midsummer had settled in, and things had gone back to… well, as “normal” as things could be for them, considering.  It had been a few months since Steph found out.  Since he’d said all those things to Bruce and walked away, never hearing from him since.  …Since he’d proposed.

Tim rolled over on the bed and buried his visage in a pillow in embarrassment, still hardly able to believe he let such a thing slip from his lips.  There was no taking it back now though, as Steph was keen on constantly reminding him in confidence, whenever they were alone.  …Still, they managed to keep up the appearance of “regular students” on the surface at least.  They – all four of them – made it through the rest of the semester, survived finals; even Steph and Conner successfully scraped by without requiring remedial lessons, thanks to intense tutoring combined with cramming in the last couple weeks.

The latter was now living with Cass in their own place, so that left Tim moving back to the loft by himself until fall.  Dick had warmly welcomed his brother back, saying his room was always available anytime he needed to crash, but Tim still couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding.  With little else to do to kill time during the dull season’s doldrums, he found most of his days were now spent looking (desperately) forward to a phone call or text message, inviting him to hang somewhere, or even simply just to talk.

…

He wanted to see Steph.

She had replied to him this morning though stating she was “busy” today, apologizing complete with cute emoticons.  …Or so he thought, but right at that moment his mobile buzzed again, and he greedily grabbed the device, scanning the screen for updates.  Apparently her plans had freed up for the afternoon, and she was wondering if he’d like to come over now.  Fist pumping, he fired back a rapid response, before dashing for the door – nearly bumping into his brother on the way out.

“Whoa, where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Just over to Steph’s house.”

“…Ah.”  Dick regarded him with an odd look for an interval.

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just…  I wanted to say…”  Dick massaged his neck, before sighing.  “Nevermind.  It can wait.  Go, have fun on your date.”

Tim cocked his head in mystification, but nevertheless acquiesced.

“Okay…  See ya.”

“See ya.”

He cast one more curious look back as he descended the steps, and Dick simply smiled and waved.  …It might have been his imagination though, but the other’s expression seemed just a tad strained.

…

When he arrived and rang the doorbell, Stephanie’s mother was the one who answered.  Tim shuffled in the entryway as he greeted nervously, still self-conscious around her presence.

“Ah… Hi, Mrs. Brown.  Steph called and asked me to come over.”

“Of course, dear.”  The woman beamed as she stepped aside to allow him in.  “It’s always nice to have you here.  She’s right this way, in the kitchen.”

She led him towards the unit, which was strangely dark for some reason.  As soon as he entered the room though, the lights suddenly switched on, and three voices (well, more like two shouts and one mental whisper) all cried out in unison:

“Surprise!”

Tim blinked as he took in the image of Steph, Conner, and Cass all crowded around the table, where a large cake was laid out, confetti and streamers simultaneously raining from the ceiling onto his shoulders.

“What’s… all this?”

Stephanie bounded up to him, brushing colorful strands off his hair before planting a peck on his forehead (since she was already standing on tiptoe).

“Silly, don’t you know what today is?  Don’t tell me you forgot.”

Tim ran hastily over a list of important dates in his mind, trying to figure out what she could possibly be referring to.  It couldn’t be something related to their relationship, could it?  They hadn’t even been officially “dating” a full year yet, and besides why were Cass and Conner here then…?  It had to be something personal, something specific…

…Then it struck him.

July 19th.

His Birthday.

“Conner told me when your Birthday is.  You’re not… mad, are you?”

She gripped his hand, a little worriedly – and he glanced towards Kon, who was also anxiously awaiting a reaction.  He grasped back in reassurance.

“No, I’m not mad.  Thank you, for doing all this for me.”

Relieved, she steered him to a seat and gestured eagerly towards the candles.

“Come on now, make a wish.”

Tim thought about it for a bit.  …There were a lot of things he might’ve wished for, once.  But, gazing around at the smiling faces of his friends – people who cared about him – accepted him despite everything…  He realized that the thing he had dreamed of most since then had already come true.

…

Later, as Stephanie was serving slices and chatting up a storm, she casually turned her concentration to Conner as well.

“By the way, when’s your Birthday?”

Both boys stiffened, eyeing each other and the single elder in the room surreptitiously.  Although the revelation of Tim’s past had made it easier for the others to come forward with their secrets, Steph’s mother was the only one not in the know now.  Still, Stephanie’s question stood sincerely.  As far as her mom was concerned, all three of her daughter’s college-mates just so happened to be orphans from a young age, and she would ensure they each received proper loving attention and care while in her home.

“I… don’t actually know.”

Conner admitted, poking at the frosting with his fork, and both hosts’ hearts broke a little bit.

“You mean you’ve never even had a Birthday party?”

She shot a sharp glare towards Tim, who shrank into his chair.  Sympathy for his “circumstances” had run out by this point it seemed – at least when it came to ignoring others’ needs as a result.

“It’s okay, really.”  Conner hurriedly leapt to his pal’s defense.  “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal.”  She clenched her fist determinedly.  “We’ll just need to pick a date to celebrate then.”

“March 21st.”

Cassandra spoke up softly all of a sudden.  All four stared at her in surprise.

“Eh?  But that’s already passed!”

Cass fixated firmly on Conner though, and so Steph nodded.

“March 21st it is then.  We’ll just have to have a belated celebration.”  She enthused with a grin, growing more and more excited as she already began scheming, rubbing her hands together gleefully.  “And make it a big one.”

…

After the festivities died down and Cass and Conner had politely taken their leave for the evening – in order to give the pair of “lovebirds” some privacy – Steph ironically had to search the house for said lover/Birthday Boy, who had somehow managed to disappear during the farewells.  Scratching her skull in puzzlement, an idea eventually occurred to her, and she headed up to her bedroom, waltzing over to the open window and poking her head out.

“There you are.  Thought I might find you up here.”

She exclaimed upon twisting around to spot a familiar shadow crouched overhead.

“Guess you can’t keep a Robin off the roofs after all,” he shrugged.

“Or him from ninja-vanishing all of a sudden,” she rolled her irises, climbing out to come join him.  “Didn’t know ‘hide-and-seek’ was on the games roster for entertainment tonight.”

“I wasn’t… hiding,” he sulked, scooching aside to provide her space.  “I was just… remembering something.”

She scanned his hunched form, reaching out for his hand as she gently laid a palm on top, imbricating digits like the tiles beneath.

“Sorry.  Was it too much?”

“No, it’s not that.  Everything was great.  I really appreciate it.  It’s just…”  He exhaled, examining the stars above, half-envisioning witnessing a bat-shaped silhouette against the moon’s bright backdrop.  “Getting to wear the suit – officially – and go out on patrol for the first time was the first Birthday present Bruce ever gave me.  …The best, most awesome gift in the world, I thought.”

Her spirit sank again as she squeezed his fingers, and he shared the grip.

“For the longest time,” he continued spitefully, “I hated the fact I was even born.  I never even wanted to think about it anymore.  I mean, why the hell did God – or whoever – put me on this earth, just to take everything I ever loved away from me?  Hurt everyone I’ve come in contact with?  First my mom, then Dad, then the very thing I had worked so hard to achieve…”

His gorge corked with a wounded choke, capping speech.  Vision lowering, he rotated slowly towards Steph, who was watching him with wide, wet pupils, overflowing with compassion and concern.  At length, he managed a comforting smile.

“But, for the first time since then – I’m glad I was born.  …Because I got to meet you.”

She beamed back, and flung her arms around him in an abrupt embrace, nearly knocking him off-balance just like a certain someone did all those years ago.

“Hey, careful!  Or we’ll both fall.”

“Please.  It’s not like we can fall any further than we already have, right?  That means things can only start looking up from now on.”  (…And besides, if they did fall, at least they’d fall together.)

Tim couldn’t help but chuckle mildly, reciprocating the gesture.

“Man, where do you get all that optimism from?”

“Definitely not my father,” she retorted, snorting.  “I only inherited his hair.”

She leaned those golden locks against his breast, closing her eyes as she listened to his heartrate, confirming that there was, indeed, a life still beating inside there.  A life she promised to treasure from now on, honor and protect no matter what – even if the rest of the world had forsaken it.  A life that deserved to live.  …And to love.

“By the way, that reminds me – I still haven’t given you your Birthday kiss yet.”

“Eh?”

She grinned, and clutched his T-shirt collar, pulling him down into a powerful, passionate kiss – nearly a minute long.  At first he seemed to awkwardly ache to avert away as usual, but after the first thirty seconds his brain just went totally blank as he stopped flailing and let her keep going, melting into her mouth.  She smirked inwardly in satisfaction, aware this could probably be considered more of an assau- er, “present” to herself; a “reward” for all her patience.  Knowing he’d never actually take this kind of forward initiative on his own unless she prompted him.

As they separated at last, Tim gaped at her in marvel, still reeling.

“Holy cow.”

“Some present?”

Perhaps she couldn’t compete with costumes and crimebusting, but she did take pride in being able to render him speechless at least.

“I, uh- wow.”

Stephanie giggled as she jabbed a teasing poke at his chest.

“Congrats, you’re a real man now.  Which means you’ll take responsibility, right?”

“Yeah…  Wait, what just happened?”

Steph could hardly suppress her snickers as it seemed her poor “prey” had lost all capacity for reason – in essence mentally regressing to a shutdown state, even though he was supposed to be a fully trained “detective”.  …Her laughter faded though as a vision of said “victim” – mute and confused – crossed her consciousness, and a gnawing sense of guilt for letting her selfish impulse run rampant overtook her conscience instead.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to force you…  I’m not trying to put pressure on you or anything…”

Detecting her regret, Tim shook his head.

“No, no, it’s okay.  I don’t mind.  I… like that spontaneous side of you.  Besides,” he scratched his scruff sheepishly, recalling his own rash declaration of devotion, “…We’ve been doing this all out of order anyway.  And, to be honest, I’m kinda relieved you took the next step.  I know you’ve been trying to be considerate, but… You don’t always have to hold yourself back around me either.  I told you, I’m not a kid – so you don’t have to keep treating me like one.”

She relaxed as he clasped her wrist consolingly, standing up with a wink.

“Even so, I doubt my mother would approve of us staying up here and making out all night.  Come on then, Boy- sorry, Man Virgin, let’s get back inside.  Before Mom sees us together up here and throws a fit.”

…

When Tim returned to the loft, he could hear the T.V. on upstairs.  Checking his watch, he was rather impressed that his brother wasn’t already out at some bar right now.  Tiptoeing up to the higher level, Dick swiftly swiveled around upon perceiving his passage, shutting off the box before his lil bro could see.

“Oh hey, you’re back.  Didn’t hear you come in, you’re getting pretty good at that stealth thing again.  Have you been practicing?” he babbled, clicking his teeth in commendation, but seeming extremely tense for some reason.

A shrug.  “Just a bit, I guess.”

“So, uh, how was the party?”

Tim startled.  “You knew about it?”

“Conner called and told me beforehand,” he confessed, “just in case anything went… unexpected.”

It was then that Tim noted the number of alcohol canisters on the table…  Yet none of them seemed actually opened.  The keys to the cycle were also laid out beside them, and Dick’s eye flicked towards the target of Tim’s sight, attempting not-so-subtly to retrieve and replace them back in his pocket.

“…You could’ve come too, you know.”

“Nah, figured you’d probably want to spend it with your friends.  …I got you something though.”  He fished for a small, square package, thinly wrapped.  “I know you don’t usually like to celebrate, but I figured it’s as good an opportunity as any to give you this.  …Happy Birthday, Tim.”

Tim bewildered as Dick handed him the packet, and he tore it open cautiously to reveal a CD case – the very same one he had broken back in autumn.

“This is…  How did you find this?  I looked everywhere online to try and get you another, but they were all out of printed stock, and no one else was selling it – not even in digital format for download…  Plus, you should be the one to have this…”

“I have my resources,” Dick murmured mysteriously.  “Anyway, don’t even try to give it back to me.  Keep it, it’s yours.”

Tim swallowed, but gratefully received the gift.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.  What are big brothers for?  Although…”  Dick’s tenor lessened a little.  “I guess you don’t really need me to look after you anymore.  I mean, you’re practically an adult now.  With a fiancé and everything.”

Tim blushed as his inescapable humiliation was once again brought up.  He was never going to live this one down, was he?

“Look, that was just something I blurted out in the heat of the moment.  You don’t… need to take it too seriously.”

“Are you kidding, you two are gonna make a great husband and wife couple.”  Grayson gleamed, goadingly nudging an elbow into rather conveniently located ribs.  “You’ll get married, move out, and have a bunch of adorable ickle egghead kiddies so their Unkie Dick can spoil them rotten.”

“Oh my God, stop.”

Tim’s complexion flushed a full tomato tone as he punched insistently at Dick’s shoulder.  The older male kept sniggering despite the pain though, and as revenge, Tim snatched the remote from the sofa.  Dick’s eye enlarged in alarm as he endeavored to wrest it back, but Tim triumphantly held it out of his range, possessing the current high ground advantage.

“So what were you watching before I came in anyway?  I bet it was something really dirty…”

He mused mockingly as he turned on the tube again, aiming to find out just what the guy had been hiding – figuring it was probably porn or some shit.

The footage that flickered on wasn’t what he anticipated though – it was an old, black and white film.  A young man and woman were singing together (horribly out-of-tune) amidst hydrangea bushes, the latter dressed in what appeared to be some kind of bathrobe.

“What is it you want, Mary?  What do you want?  You want the moon?  Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.  Hey.  That's a pretty good idea.  I'll give you the moon, Mary.”

“…It’s a Wonderful Life?”  Tim raised an astonished eyebrow.  “In the middle of summer?”

“You’ve seen it?”

Dick rejoined, equally amazed.

“Bruce always made me watch it with him on Christmas.”

“…Did he really now.”

“Yeah.”

There was a beat of brief silence between them, as an old man on the monitor berated the boy for his woeful efforts at wooing.

“Why don't you kiss her instead of talking her to death?”

“Want me to kiss her, huh?”

“Ah, youth is wasted on the wrong people!”

Tim finally cleared his throat.

“…You mind if I join you?”

“You sure?”

Dick glimpsed uneasily at the monochrome motion picture.

“Yeah.  It’s fine.  …It’s a good flick.”

Tim came around the couch as Dick obligingly shifted over to offer a spot on the cushions.  He also picked up a can and passed it towards Tim.

“You… do realize I’m still underage, right?”

“Consider it an advance on your next couple Birthdays.”

Tim took it, and the two concurrently cracked open their drinks and downed a shot.  Dick looked down at the remaining liquid, swirling sullenly.

“You know, Christmas was kinda lonely this year.”

“You mean you didn’t bring some chick back to your place?”

“Nah.  Didn’t seem like the right mood.”

Tim studied him for an extensive interim.

“I hope you know…  No matter what, you can always think of the two of us as family.”

Dick’s lid batted once as he heard his own words echoed back at him, followed by a light thump on his backside.

“Us guys, we gotta stick together, right?”

Dick lifted, and radiated wryly as he ruffled his younger sibling’s scalp.

“Heh.  You really have grown up, haven’t you, huh?”

Tim smiled back, and hoisted his beverage, connecting to his comrade’s with a clink.

“Here’s to survival, old chum.”

————————–

In the moment I was born, I wouldn't stop screaming Saying that I wanted to fade away and disappear Ever since the day I stopped, I had always been searching, For the one I'd someday meet, For the you that has to leave With this endless pain in my heart, tearing me apart, but also you beside me Can't you see how happy I'd be? I'd smile and I'd say, "It was all for the best you see" As the world in front of me melts and fades away, I only have one thing to say: These miracles flooding me won't make it go away Because I can still hear your voice calling out my name

[tveitertotwrites]

What is your favorite childhood memory?

What is your least favorite childhood memory?

What do you think had the biggest impact on you growing up?

What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do?

You’re given an unlimited budget to build anything you want!  What do you build and where do you build it?

Hey! Thanks for the questions! You can't really tell this that much based on the way I answered these, but all of my MC's/OC's are in the same room together doing this interview. The questions are from this ask!

3). What is your favorite childhood memory?

Brooklyn: "My favorite childhood memory is when my siblings (Elizabeth and Parker) and I would do a talent show with our cousins. We each did something different for our own separate sections, I usually did a song or a dance I had been learning for a competition. And since a lot of us were involved in dance and theater due to out parents, at the end we did a big cheesy dance number. It was always very fun and lighthearted and brought all of us closer together."

Claire: "My favorite childhood memory is when my grandmother and I would bake together. It was always so relaxing and it was something that I could do with someone who thought I was important at a time where home was not great."

Adelaide: "My favorite childhood memory is when my twin brother, Atlas, and I shared a room. We were little and while out parents always tried to make sure it was clean, we would always mess it up within like an hour after it was fully cleaned because we would make a big fort or something. It reminds me of when we were closer, not saying that we aren't close now, but there are times where I wish Atlas and I could be little again and making blanket forts and not having to care about the things that we thought was so far away at that time like paying rent and whatever else we didn't have to think about."

Charlie: "My favorite childhood memory is growing up with my siblings and doing the same sports as them. When I was a freshman, my older sister Athena was a senior and my older sister Summer was a junior and we were on the same volleyball team which was fun because I got to play alongside them and cheer them on during their senior nights. I also was on our school's co-ed swim team which I did with my younger brothers, Aaron and Sage, which was also fun because they were very supportive and I felt very proud of them, especially when they did well. Plus, I am the only one in our family to do a school activity with all of my siblings, so I feel like I won a competition or something."

4). Least favorite childhood memory?

Brooklyn: "My least favorite childhood memory was when my dog, Daisy who was a Yorkshire Terrier was ran over by a car. We had just gotten home and were sending out the dogs one at a time because if all 3 of the dogs we had at the time went outside together, it would be too much chaos and we were trying to get our oldest dog, Miley, outside and Daisy just bolted out the door and into the road and she was ran over by a car. She survived thankfully but she did have to have surgery and some casts for a little while but she made it through for a few more years."

Claire: "My least favorite memory is when my grandmother passed away when I was 12. For about a year or so prior to her death, she had been switching back and forth between the hospital and the nursing home due to some complications. And then about a year of hopping between the two, she said, or more likely wrote because she couldn't speak very well in her last couple of months, she had enough and wanted to stay at the nursing home until she passed, which was hard to hear at 11/12 because she is the one who said it and while I don't blame her or anything, it was hard knowing that she did as much as she could and it still wasn't enough."

Adelaide: "My least favorite childhood memory is when my older brother Rowan went off to college. At that time, Atlas and I were only like 7 years old and we had like no perception of time, so what we thought was that he was going to be gone forever but reality it was only a month or two at a time because of breaks and stuff. We also were all very close even though Atlas and I were 11 years younger than Rowan."

Charlie: "My least favorite childhood memory is when I broke both bones in my lower right arm. I was 8 and playing on a swing set when no one was around me at the time and I wanted to stop, so I went to go put my feet on the ground to stop myself. And where the little play set with the swings was placed, it was dirt underneath but there were roots of a nearby tree that kind of stuck out of the ground and my feet got caught by it and I fell and used my arm to break my fall and ended up breaking both of the bones in my lower arm. Which wasn't fun because it was near the start of winter and it was my dominant arm so i couldn't use it and at school when we would do assignments I had to have my teachers write for me."

8). What do you think had the biggest impact on you growing up?

Brooklyn: "Probably seeing my family doing theater and dance. They're the reason why I do what I do and I can't thank them enough. I always try to invite them to any event I can and show them appreciation for what they did for me and how I have the privilege to be as successful as I am because of their help."

Claire: "I think what had the biggest impact on me growing up was the favoritism of my younger sister. While I did have my own activities and things like that, I definitely felt my parents always being at everything for my sister. Like if I had something coming up, my parents would 99 percent of the time either had something to do with my sister or would say that they had something with my sister and would go do something else."

Adelaide: "What had the biggest impact on me growing up was growing up with two brothers. Having two brothers was interesting because I was told that doing things for me was vastly different from my two brothers even though I was the same age as one of them. It wasn't a bad thing in my opinion just interesting."

Charlie: "What had a big impact on me growing up was probably being the middle child. I felt like there were times that I was seen as too young or too old to hang out with my siblings at times and since there was 5 of us I felt like everyone had a partner except for me. But I didn't feel like that all the time because of sports and school activities which I am thankful for."

6). What is the hardest thing you have had to do?

Brooklyn: "Probably standing up for myself against people within the industry even though it is very hard. There a lot about the industry that is hidden and comes to light later down the road and it can be scary for anyone, especially those who don't have much power or respect. Trying to make it in the industry, no matter which side, is hard enough for the people who don't already have a way in and then having the added barrier of people only giving you jobs if you sexually satisfy them or satisfy them in a similar way is really frustrating for people who want to come into the industry."

Claire: "The hardest thing I have had to do is the chemical attack. It was during a time when I didn't believe in myself, and there were things going on in my personal life at the time. It was hard knowing what was going on and what people would be going through, such as the families of Bobby and Danny who had died due to what had happened. Knowing that I was partially to blame for it still haunts me to this day, but I am grateful to be around people who support me and care for me after everything."

Adelaide: "The hardest thing I had to do was probably go to med school. It was the first time where I had been away from my family for a while, especially Atlas. He had been going to school on the West Coast while I went to school on the east coast. Undergrad was the hardest as at least with Med School, my best friend Claire (Evans) and I were on the same campus and shared a dorm for our time there and we also went to hospitals within the same area so that part wasn't difficult. Undergrad, I was by myself and knew absolutely no one."

Charlie: "The hardest thing was probably losing my grandparents at a young age. My maternal grandpa and paternal grandma both died due to cancer when I was little and then my paternal grandpa had died prior to my birth. My maternal grandma was also sick during my senior year and died only two months before my graduation which was hard."

13). You have an unlimited budget to build anything you want! What do you build and where do you build it?

Brooklyn: "Well if you asked me when I was little then I probably would have said little dog houses all over the world. But now I would probably say either a theater in my hometown or a women's shelter."

Claire: "Umm... Selfishly I would say another location of my hometown's coffee shop and put it here in Boston. But also free period products, birth control, and help line information for different needs in stations all over the country."

Adelaide: "Yeah. I would also say resource stations around the country. But also I would love to have the view I had in Greece from my room here in Boston but at that point I should just move to Greece instead, it would be a lot cheaper."

Charlie: "I would probably build free donation buildings for good condition clothes. People could donate their clothes that were in good condition and look through other clothes and they could be free."

Any other questions?

[butterflydm]

wot reread: new spring (chapter 5-12)

spoilers through knife of dreams/new spring

1. During Moiraine and Siuan’s turn at taking names, we have Moiraine hesitating over how to calm the unruly crowd of women, while Siuan immediately takes charge and gets them to behave themselves. Siuan future leader vibes, for sure (which we also got earlier, with Moiraine noting how some might find it surprising that, out of the two of them, Siuan was the one who led and Moiraine the one who followed).

2. Despite being a noble, Horsegirl!Moiraine has watched horse breeding and helped during foaling (another thing she and Rand could have bonded over!). She can’t help being a horsegirl. But she is baffled at trying to guess the age of the human babies in front of her. Could be a few days! Could be two months! Who knows, really! lol

3.  We get a moment here of Siuan and Moiraine balancing the line between extending sympathy and care to people who need it (giving the 100 gold bounty to a woman whose child is several months old but the woman is clearly starving and whose husband died early in the war) while not letting people who are simply greedy take advantage of them. It makes Moiraine smile when Siuan compliments her over how she handles the situation (moment #12).

4. After the break for lunch, we get the arrival of two Aes Sedai: a woman named Meilyn Arganya, who is very respected, and, to Moiraine’s shock, she is accompanied by Elaida. Elaida hasn’t been entirely gone from the Tower the last three years -- she has visited from time to time to confer with the Amrylin. Hmm, I wonder if Tamra knew about Elaida’s Foretelling about the Royal House of Andor being key in the Last Battle? Elaida does seem genuinely invested in Moiraine and Siuan. She’s just, you know, an awful person and thus shows her interest in ways that dismay and horrify said objects of her interest.

5. When Elaida sniffs at the idea of Warders, her companion (White Ajah) points out that, logically, given their lifestyle Red Sisters would find Warders MORE useful than most other Sisters. So true (and really points out how bizarre it is that we’re supposed to be believe that no Red Sister has attempted to bond a woman in all the time since the Warder bond was invented. That would, honestly, have made so much sense in Jordan’s worldbuilding - if Red Ajah Sisters all had female Warders).

6. We are reminded that corporal punishment is a big thing in the Tower, because Jordan clearly believed very strongly in it. People do persistently like to believe that people in positions of power hitting vulnerable people under their care builds character despite all the evidence stating that it does not, in fact, work (I’ve got a fairly comprehensive study buried somewhere in my queue about how when a country bans spanking, it reduces youth violence, among other things: shockingly enough, using violence to ‘teach’ people mostly just teaches them that violence is how you’re supposed to communicate). The Mistress of Novices has a cabinet with a strap, a switch, and a slipper. I feel like this is part of the White Tower that will not make it to the show.

7. But that’s not why Moiraine was summoned. She’s actually here to learn that her uncles (King Laman and his two brothers) were killed yesterday. Moiraine didn’t like her extended family much, though, so she isn’t exactly grieved by their deaths (we do learn here that her own father was a scholar who married a scholar, and thus was somewhat looked down on by his more ambitious family). Aww, when Moiraine gets back to her room, the lamps have been lit and there’s a fire in the fireplace, which she attributes to Siuan (moment #13).

8. Moiraine has a nightmare about a faceless infant in the snow who calls down lightning. After she wakes up from the nightmare, she banks the coals and goes to Siuan’s room, not wanting to sleep alone (moment #14). Siuan has also been having nightmares about the Dragon Reborn and welcomes her into the bed. Siuan wonders what they’re even going to do if they do find the Dragon. Moiraine says he can be brought to the Tower to be protected and educated in the ways of politics, war, and history. “Verin Sedai said that most mistakes made by rulers came from not knowing history; they acted in ignorance of the mistakes others had made before them.” (this is the exact thing that makes Mat the Greatest General - he has the ultimate ability to learn from other people’s mistakes in war, due to his memories) And, most importantly, the Dragon can be guided by them, “to make sure he made the right decisions”. Fascinating that VERIN is apparently the one who taught Moiraine and Siuan about the whole “women can’t teach men because it’s like fish and birds” thing when she’s the one who will undercut that very point years later by mentioning birds that dive for food & flying fish.

9. When they’re awoken in the morning, Moiraine gives Siuan a last hug before heading back to her own room (moment #15). Another mention of an Aes Sedai who will become damane -- Ryma is mentioned here. She is forcibly renamed Pura by the Seanchan at Falme and desperately asked Egwene to remember her real name for her, because she was losing hold of herself. I just... I really hate the Seanchan. I... again express my bafflement that Jordan decided to make his two of main male characters willing to accept the brutal slavery enacted by the Seanchan and have warm feelings for the slavers. wtf, dude? (and I will say that it’s bizarre that Rand doesn’t emotionally identify more with the damane, given how many of his own fears center around being leashed and used. but Jordan doesn’t even let him identify with the Asha’man so I guess that’s par for the course.)

10. “She had never been as close to anyone as she was to Siuan. Or loved anyone as much.” (moment #16)

11. In the aftermath of Laman’s death, Moiraine gets questioned by several Sitters about Cairhienin politics and realizes, to her dismay, that they are angling for her to take the Sun Throne now that Laman is dead. She worries that her only means of escaping such a fate would be to essentially flee the White Tower as soon as she gets the shawl and stay away as much as possible. Moiraine would probably have gotten further with Rand if she’d tried to bond with him over not wanting the responsibility that her heritage could have granted her, imo.

12. Moiraine realizes on the fourth day of copying baby names that no woman is ACTUALLY going to describe her kid as being “born on the slopes of Dragonmount” because the Prophecies of the Dragon are too well known - though many “common” people know inaccurate versions of the prophecies, even the most incorrect versions mention Dragonmount. Tamra comes in to Moiraine and Siuan, to give Moiraine a sealed letter to deliver to Kerene (ah, the Aes Sedai from episode 4).

13. Kerene is Green Ajah, so we get reminded that the Green Ajah’s actual PURPOSE is supposed to be to stay prepared to fight in the Last Battle. But, over time, it’s mostly just become the Ajah for people who want lots of Warders (Elayne believes that she HAS to choose Green because she wants Rand for a Warder after already having Birgitte, and only Greens would EVER have more than one Warder - despite “being prepared to fight the Last Battle” actually being something that Elayne wants to do and would have been a much better reason for her to want to be Green). We get a brief mention of Elyas here -- he’s still a Warder at the moment.

14. Moiraine’s point here about how, when a Sister lives long enough, her immediate family will all die and fade into memory, while only the Tower remains, does a much better job of showing why the Aes Sedai ARE so attached to the institution of the White Tower than anything in the main series does, imo. (of course, part of the problem there is that our main leads are all young enough that they DO still have immediate family/loved ones who are still living outside the White Tower, so they haven’t experienced that yet, but are as devoted to the White Tower as Sisters who have lived there hundreds of years. so it just feels slightly weird that they’re so attached tbh).

15. Stepin mention! Hi, Stepin. Kerene has another Warder here too, who didn’t make the show - Karile. Hi, Kerene! And it’s implied that she might have more Warders too. Moiraine made a huge point in her narration earlier about how Elaida just DRAPES herself in bright-bright red at all times to shout out her Ajah, but literally every Sister that Moiraine mentions is also wearing her Ajah’s colors, lol. As she leaves and reunites with Siuan, she learns that Siuan gave a similar message to Aisha Sedai, who is Gray Ajah. Moiraine guesses that Tamra is trying to assemble a trusted search party to look for ~the boychild~ who is the Dragon Reborn. And that Tamra doesn’t trust the Red Ajah with news of his birth at all. That Tamra’s plan is not to bring the boy to the White Tower, but to send him into hiding with trusted teachers to raise him safely AWAY from the White Tower. Yeah, that probably would be a better idea.

16. We learn that there’s a rumor in the Tower that Gitara had another Foretelling earlier that the Last Battle would come in the lifetimes of sisters now breathing. Which means two-three hundred years, so much less than the pinpoint accuracy of the Foretelling that Siuan and Moiraine overheard. This makes Moiraine suspect that there were other Foretellings as well, known only to Tamra now that Gitara is dead. Elaida visits while Moiraine is practicing for the Aes Sedai test with Siuan and Myrelle, and proceeds to be an abusive teacher. I’m guessing the story that she told Rand the last episode of season one is taking the place of this sort of more Tower-sanctioned beating.

17. And this is extremely abusive behavior on Elaida’s part. The weird thing is that Jordan seems half-aware that violence isn’t actually a good teaching method; it often fails to actually impart lessons to the ‘students’ of the violence -- yet he persists in making every single culture in WoT that we spend time with one that is based around the idea of beating knowledge into your students. Maybe he was just unaware that it was POSSIBLE to even have a teaching culture that lacked violence? So he knew it didn’t really work but also thought there was no other method that existed? It’s like with Cadsuane -- she persistently bullies Rand, it always puts his back up and he doesn’t engage with her at all and despises her as a person and can’t imagine what he might learn from her, and yet we’re told via Min’s mystical Always Right BS Viewings that Cadsuane is going to Teach Him A Valuable Lesson. Jordan kept trying to force that square block through that round hole, over and over, despite smashing his fingers on it every time.

18. One of the other Accepted, Ellid, notes (after Elaida leaves) that it’s against Tower law to use the Power to punish initiates and Siuan says that it’s a law that is broken near-constantly by teachers. Ellid says that they should report Elaida’s actions to the Mistress of Novices but Moiraine says that an Accepted officially complaining about being treated poorly will ‘pay’ for it. Um. Yikes. *gestures back up to the point I just made* Why were you like this, Jordan*? “They were required to learn endurance as much as history or the One Power.”

*I mean, I read that article about the bullying/hazing culture of The Citadel, where he went to college, so I guess I know why he was like that. But yikes all the same.

19. The beatings do stop when someone reports Elaida’s behavior to the Mistress of Novices, but Elaida was reprimanded not for beating students nightly until they wept, but for ‘helping them cheat’ in practicing for the test. Once more, I offer a hearty “WTF”. The nightly beatings, which were actually making them do worse and worse each time Elaida did it to them, constituted her cheating in their favor, apparently. That is such a contradictory narrative (again, like Cadsuane or, for that matter, Mat and Tylin). We can see in how the characters respond that it’s awful and isn’t helping at all, but then the narrative informs us that Actually It’s Such A Good Thing and was Helping A Lot. ???? wtf. Moiraine and Siuan are told to “accept [Elaida’s] gift in the spirit it was given”. And Elaida now had a major grudge against the two women (Moiraine assumes that Elaida thinks they went to the Mistress of Novices themselves to report her). I do like Siuan speaking out against the idea that Elaida was helping them and saying that she won’t allow Elaida to retaliate against her.

20. A week (ten days) after Gitara’s Foretelling, the snow on Dragonmount melts. Since the child crying in the snow was a key part of the Foretelling, Moiraine now feels safe in believing that the child must have been born in that ten-day span of time.

21. Moiraine is summoned to her testing for the shawl, but makes sure to give Siuan a quick hug before she leaves for it. Moiraine is certain that she’s going to fail the test, so she starts coming up with a backup plan -- even if she gets put out of the Tower, she could still look for the child, after all. She would have the ability to use the Power (discreetly) and would have the funds from the Damodred estates. Moiraine realizes that even if she doesn’t become Aes Sedai, she can still have a purpose, and that comforts her (a little).

22. lol, Moiraine has to be naked, of course. It wouldn’t be a Robert Jordan ritual without a woman needing to take her clothes off. Moiraine notes that Elaida is one of the women watching over her testing and wishes that she weren’t. The test itself is interesting, but her being naked for it really is so gratuitous. It’s similar to the Accepted test that we saw with Nynaeve & Egwene in the earlier books, in that you forget your original purpose once you’re inside, but in this case, the goal is to hit your mark and do the one-hundred weaves in perfect calm.

23. The goal of being able to achieve perfect calm whenever needed DOES make sense for Aes Sedai, of course, due to how they are required to ‘surrender’ in order to reach saidar. So in terms of how Jordan set up the magic system, this test makes sense. An Aes Sedai needs to be calm in order to fully access their magic. But I do find myself so so curious about what the original purpose of this ter’angreal was, back when it was created, because I doubt it was for this.

24. Luckily, we do skip from weave number three to weave number ninety-nine. But this really does sound like an incredibly long and grueling testing. No wonder many Accepted fail and then are put out of the Tower (...and then join the Kin). Her first test was enduring humiliation, then there was a lot that involved fear and pain (and at least one with sexual assault), and now, for the last one, she has to walk past her father telling her that her mother is dying and asking for her (both are dead in real life). It also seems that the tests are shaped and chosen in part by the women who are on the outside of the ter’angreal, controlling it.

25. Once Myrelle and Sheriam find out that Moiraine passed the test, there’s an instant distance between them. “Friendship was at an end, until they also gained the shawl.” That’s so fucking weird. It reminds me of how Siuan was treated as a lesser person after she was stilled. She was no longer Aes Sedai and thus no longer an equal. But, yeah, this is especially weird because they’re SO EXCITED about the idea of a friend going for their test, but then if the friend passes the test, the friendship is over (and if she’d failed, it would also be over, because she would be booted from the White Tower).

26. Moiraine stays up, even though she’s exhausted, because if Siuan fails the test, then she’ll only be allowed to stay at the White Tower long enough to gather her things and say a quick goodbye (moment #17, with a tinge of sadness). She tries to keep herself awake by reading one of her & Siuan’s favorite books, Hearts of Flame. When Siuan returns triumphant, they dance hand in hand (moment #18). Moiraine is saddened when she thinks about how she and Siuan aren’t allowed to talk to each other about what was in their testing - they’ve shared everything with each other these past years. “Even here, the shawl brought separations.” Tomorrow, they will be raised Aes Sedai but Siuan decides (and Moiraine agrees) that they will pull one last prank together as Accepted: they will put mice in Elaida’s bed.

27. “Breach of the proprieties or not, they intended to do everything together this morning insofar as possible.” (moment #19) “Hand in hand, they entered. Together.” Moiraine is so happy that the Amyrlin is indulging their desire to be raised as Sisters together that she thinks she could kiss her (moment #20). “Siuan had the heart of a lion.” (moment #21)

28. So, in the books as said here, the Official Duty of the Blue Ajah is “righting wrongs” (or Seekers after Causes, as Verin puts it). It’s never really defined in a satisfying way, tbh. I’m kinda glad that the show went with a different angle (the spy Ajah!) because that’s kinda what it seems like the Blue Ajah actually does. I guess they’re supposed to be the... activist Ajah? Anyway, both Moiraine and Siuan pick Blue and can’t imagine picking anything else. Once it’s obvious that Moiraine & Siuan are headed for the Blue Ajah Sisters, everyone else leaves the chamber as they get their official blue-fringed shawls.

29. Wow, for once, this ritual DOESN’T require gratuitous nudity... anymore. But apparently it used to. Wishing I could go back in time to send Jordan a note letting him know that women do occasionally do things with their clothes on. We do learn here that all the Ajah have their own customs and traditions that the Sisters must learn once they’ve gained their shawl. The actual bit where they’re greeted by their Ajah is sweet.

30. Moiraine hugs Siuan and thinks “She had truly come home. They had come home.” (moment #22). Ah, and the apartments that Moiraine and Siuan have been given are side by side.

31. Moiraine notices one of the Blue Sisters acting deferential to everyone else, including her and Siuan. Ah, this is Cabriana, who gets tortured and killed by Semirhage. Now I’m sad. Also, Cabriana appears to be the Aes Sedai who is being used (by the narrative) to show Moiraine and Siuan that strength in the One Power is how the hierarchy is done among full Aes Sedai, because that’s something that they don’t learn until they achieve the shawl (which is why the Kin don’t do it that way and use age instead; they never learned the silly silly method that the Aes Sedai use -- out of all the various groups, the Aiel Wise Ones seem to be the most sensible when it comes to figuring out who leads imo, though they do have their own issues as well). Also of note (and Moiraine notices this in her internal narration too) is that once they are alone among their Ajah, the Sisters are more free showing their feelings and aren’t always just radiating serenity at all times.

32. Moiraine can now dress in blue instead of white (it’s noted that she’s provided with “four plain blue dresses” - yes, the Ajahs DO color-code themselves in their clothing, lol) and she can put her kesiera back on (the blue gem that rests on her forehead).

33. They are officially told now that instead of ignoring their strength in the Power compared to everyone else, they must now be absolutely aware of it, because it determines where they stand in the hierarchy of the Tower. “If another Sister stands higher than you in the Power, whatever her Ajah, you must defer to her. The higher she stands above you, the greater your deference.” ...every time we get reminded of this system, I feel again what a terrible, terrible system it is. No wonder they wait until the women are locked into place before telling them about it. A woman weak in the Power would probably be more willing to balk at the final test and go off on her own, rather than constantly be under everyone else’s thumb for the rest of her life.

34. That does also delineate why Cadsuane being such an awful bully of a person makes sense under the system that Jordan created. Until Egwene, Elayne, and Nynaeve came along, Cadsuane had been the strongest woman in the Tower for literal centuries, with everyone deferring to her whims. It’s a system that is designed to create bullies, minions, and victims. (...I’m going to blame the Black Ajah). Both Rand and Egwene think at various points how addictive it can be to have people jump to obey your every whim.

35. Moiraine is grateful that she and Siuan are near-identical in strength. “It would have seemed unnatural if Siuan had been forced to defer to her.” (moment #23) At this point in time, Moiraine is thinking that she and Siuan will leave the Tower together (to hunt for the baby Dragon) and “she for one did not intend to return until she was at her full strength”. It occurs to me... if Egwene and Nynaeve had been raised to the shawl in the normal manner, all of this would have come as a horrible crushing disappointment to Egwene? During their time as Accepted, Egwene fights so hard to feel like/be seen as Nynaeve’s equal (even tipping over to being cruel at times in her struggle), so being raised to Aes Sedai Sister and learning that she was now expected to show Nynaeve deference again (for the rest of the time they were Sisters!) would have probably been a pretty nasty surprise. Luckily for Egwene, she gets to bypass that and jump straight to the top, lol.

36. We are in Siuan’s perspective now, where we learn she has been volun-told into a job position inside the White Tower that she VERY much does not want and yet is not allowed to say ‘no’ to because she is ‘good at puzzles’ and someone who is currently stronger than her in the Power wants her help. So now she had to tell Moiraine that she will be searching alone. Despite her anger, she thinks, “The sight of Moiraine always made her smile. Cetalia had been wrong in one particular. She was not a pretty little porcelain doll; she was a beautiful little porcelain doll.” But more than that, Siuan also thinks, “Moiraine had turned out to be as tough as she herself, if not tougher”. (moment #24)

37. Siuan is relieved that, now that she’s Aes Sedai, she can swear again without worrying about being assigned a penance for it. Siuan pours herself a cup of tea without asking Moiraine’s permission, because they’re close enough that she doesn’t need it (moment #25).

38. Moiraine confesses to Siuan that she believes that the White Tower means to place her on the Sun Throne. Siuan says she can understand why and that she believes Moiraine would make a wonderful queen. Moiraine is almost in tears when she explains the legacy that her ancestors have left behind in order to rule Cairhien and “I am caught like a fox in a trap, and I cannot even chew off my own foot to escape”. Siuan reassures her that they WILL figure a way out.

39. “Siuan could have kissed her. In fact, she did.” (moment #26)

40. Oh, hi, Lan! It’s been quite a long time! They’re watching as the Aiel go back over the Spine of the World. The ‘war’ is over. At his teacher’s request, Lan agrees to wait four months before going north to pursue his own personal war against the Blight. And... bye, Lan! See you again sometime!

[heavensbeehall]

"Catching Fire", Chapter 14

Part 2: The Quell

Chapter 14: Katniss knows she won't write goodbye letters to her family. Effie has an idea. They watch the recap. Katniss has nighmares so Peeta and she watch the tape of Haymitch's games. Haymitch says his trick with the force field was almost as bad as Katniss with the berries.

Thoughts:

-- A lot of faves first appear in this chapter. I am excite.

-- The Victor of the 25th Hunger Games is not in the lot Effie sent. Peeta thinks "they must be dead." I suppose the Victor could've just had cancer or drinked themselves to death. I immediately suspected foul play though. I always assume the Capitol is up to something.

-- I might have to put my thoughts on Haymitch's games in a separate post. SO MUCH HAPPENING.

Quotes:

"I had it especially done to match Katniss' pin. I was thinking we might get you a golden ankle band and maybe find Haymitch a gold bracelet or something so we could all look like a team."

Effie expresses herself with fashion, guys. She had her hair done to match Katniss' pin before the Reaping to show her solidarity. IDK why this makes me want to cry. It's not rebellion really. It's more like Effie is like one of those sportsball fans who paints themself in their team's colors. Except she's not just rooting for 12 to win some trophy, but to live.

If he were the tribute, he would have owed Peeta nothing and could be as drunk as he liked. Now it's going to take all he's got to keep Peeta alive in an arena full of his old friends, and he'll probably fail.

I think we're all lucky Haymitch wasn't the tribute in that case. Being hungover in the clock arena sounds miserable (so much lightning and noise!) Although maybe if Haymitch and Katniss had been the tributes they would've just jumped off their podiums and high-fived each other before drowning themselves in the sea?

In the history of the Games, there have been seventy-five victors. Fifty-nine are still alive.

33 victors are NOT reaped but killed between now and the end of Mockingjay. More than die in the Arena. You actually had a better shot if you volunteered. (Congrats, Enobaria.)

Effie makes hushed, distressed comments like "Oh, not Cecilia" and "Well, Chaff never could stay out of a fight.""

I understand the "not Cecilia comment" since we are later told that she has three small children. Did Chaff volunteer? Or is it just he got reaped so "oh well he could never stay out of a fight"?

I try to make some mental record of the other tributes, but like last year, only a few really stick in my head. There's the classically beautiful brother and sister from District 1 who were victors in consecutive years when I was little. Brutus, a volunteer from District 2, who must be at least forty and apparently can't wait to get back in the arena. Finnick, the handsome bronze-haired guy from District 4 who was crowned ten years ago at the age of fourteen. A hysterical young woman with flowing brown hair is also called from 4, but she's quickly replaced by a volunteer, an eighty-year-old woman who needs a cane to walk to the stage. Then there's Johanna Mason, the only living female victor from 7, who won a few years back by pretending she was a weakling. The woman from 8 who Effie calls Cecelia, who looks about thirty, has to detach herself from the three kids who run up to cling to her. Chaff, a man from 11 who I know to be one of Haymitch's particular friends, is also in.

First appearance of my beloved Mags! Also I'd like to see the footage of Johanna rolling her eyes as they brought out the reaping bowl with just her name in it. It also means Johanna has known for months that she is going back to the Arena. I wonder how she handled it compared to Katniss?

After the anthem, they show President Snow drawing the envelope for the second Quarter Quell. He looks younger but just as repellent.

So Snow definitely moved up from Gamemaker to President by 50. But Finnick says he was a "young man" when he rose to power so I am thinking he became President around 25. Anyone else have thoughts on this?

[fangeek-girl]

Fic Tag Game

Thank you @wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart for the tag

How many works do you have on Ao3?

Works: 12 Fics: 11 One of my works is original fiction

2. What's your Ao3 word count?

242,814 (including 2 unfinished fics)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

At the moment Star Wars only, but when the mood strikes Roswell New Mexico as well.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Fix You (Star Wars, Obianidala)

Three Makes a Family (RNM, Malex)

One Love (RNM, Malex)

Halves of a Whole (Star Wars, Skywalker Dyad part 1)

Treacherous (RNM, Malexa)

5. Do you respond to comments?

When people actually comment, yes! I always feel my responses are superfluous, but I love when people take the time to comment.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Last Kiss, considering it ends with Padmé's death...

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Three Makes a Family, but it's been in edits for over a year so nobody gets to see how wholesome it ends because I haven't been able to put myself back into the RNM writing mood 😭

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I did in the RNM fandom because some people can't handle polyamory.

9. Do you write smut? What kind?

Not much. I usually default to fluffy smut. The closest I've come to actual smut in published fics is Treacherous, and it's focused on their feelings rather than the action.

10. Do you write cross-overs?

I tend to stay in one fandom at a time when writing.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. And I'm not sure I'd like it. I would be too worried about whether they got the tone right.

12. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Once, when I was in the TVD fandom, years ago. The other two cowriters just stopped participating after like 3 chapters and told me I could do whatever, then got mad at me for taking the whole thing down.

13. What WIP you would like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Ouch. Three Makes a Family is technically written, just not edited. So it's kinda finished...? But I haven't fallen back into the RNM mood, and the shitshow that was s4 made it very hard.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Ships come and go with my special interests, so ask me every few months and the answer will be different. Right now, I'm leaning toward Obikin/Anidala equally.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Writing out feelings and lyrical prose. (What is this, an interview? 😅)

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Continuity in a long arc. My brain goes too fast and gets stuck on subplots. Halfway through a long project I usually have to rethink my idea for the ending (if I even knew where I was going in the first place) because I strayed so far from the original plot lol

On the bright side I am slowly learning to actually outline my fics 😂

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

For real languages, it needs to be grammatically correct. I say this as a native French speaker who read way too many published novels where there's dialogue in French and it's absolutely awful.

For fandoms languages, have fun I guess! A translation in the notes or between parenthesis always helps tho.

18. First fandom you wrote for?

Either HP or Buffy, back when we posted on fanfiction.net. I read those fandoms a lot as a teen, but I can't remember if I wrote much back then.

19. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Treacherous maybe? I really love how it turned out.

20. What fic would you want to rewrite one day?

None. When I post a fic it's done in my head. If I start thinking about how it could be better, I'll never stop editing and rewriting it. And then no one would get to read it. My fics are by no means perfect, and there's always something bugging me about them when I reread them, but they represent my writing at that moment.

Tagging @bisexualalienss, @maeglinthebold, @burntblueberrywaffles, @palfriendpatine66 and @somethingsteff and anyone else who wants to do it. Feel free to ignore me 😉