#what story did he invent in his own mind about what drew him to her in the first place

[freezerfridays]

just had this piece of dialogue playing on repeat in my brain for a while and it's got me thinking sbout warren and bryony fake marriage again,, warren responding to clive making a reference and bryony immediately picking up the thread he dropped and going with it. do you think, when warren was first thrown into his life with "karen," and he was struggling to remember his past, not knowing why he couldn't remember meeting or falling in love with his wife, it gave him comfort when he realized that they make the same references, they have similar taste in media? doyou think the moment warren realized they had this in common his first thought was "oh, this must be the reason I fell in love."? do you think thst the jokes and playful banter made him fill in the gaps between memories that never existed? warren bryony fake marriage you make me so insane

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (25)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, tension, anxiety, a lot of half-truths ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

Author note: For the purposes of this story, Lord Rodrik Arryn had a son and an heir, who in turn has a son of his own, to whom our Lady Strong was betrothed. I invented the lullaby in this chapter, so if you think it's weird, thank me, lol.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After what he heard, he just vomited, unable to stop the convulsions that were squeezing his stomach, the rapid pounding of his heart or his terrified, ragged breathing. He could feel tears of despair and fear running down his cheeks as he coughed once more, panting heavily over the vessel − he felt like his whole body was twitching.

You will betray her at the moment she trusts you the most.

You will achieve victory, but she will never let you touch herself again.

You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death.

He felt his stomach twist again in pain at the mere memory – he leaned over the bowl, feeling the gag reflex shake his body once more, but nothing left his throat.

He cried out loudly as if he were a small child, covering his face with his hand, leaning over the table, thinking about how much he needed his wife right now.

How much he wanted to snuggle between her soft, sweet breasts, to feel her smooth, warm hands stroking his hair, her heart beating beneath his cheek.

He drew in a loud breath, reminding himself that he had left her alone and that any moment spent in this disgusting place could have been her last; he reached for the cup of wine, rinsed his mouth a few times and spat the contents into the bowl, washing his face with fresh water, trying to calm himself.

This was part of their game, he thought, feeling his terror slowly begin to be replaced by fury.

He was sure Larys Strong had made her say it because he wanted him to believe that what was to come was destiny, not his and his grandfather's plan.

They wanted to manipulate him, to force him to leave her, to strip her of his protection, to destroy her.

No, he thought.

He was no longer a small child.

He left the fortress feeling that he had again unwittingly become the cold, empty stone he had been for eight years when she had not been with him, recognising that he had to keep a cool head.

He could not allow himself to be weak now.

He knew that if he just looked at her, if he just saw her face again and remembered what that woman had said to him he would simply burst into sobs, so to her disappointment he pretended not to see her.

The journey to the Eyrie, although spent in full sun and short, was unbearable for him and dragged on endlessly; he felt that waves of thoughts, suppositions and versions of events flowed through his mind one after another, causing complete chaos in his head.

What if Rhaenyra did not agree despite his lie?

What if she agrees, but demands the head of his grandfather and mother?

Whoever he was, his grandfather was his kin, his blood; all his life he had fought for them and their rights even if he himself often despised him.

How should he behave in such a situation so as not to let her down?

To fight? Declare war on them? Let her decide for herself once again which side she would stand on this time?

He pressed his forehead to the front of his saddle, clenching his hands on the ropes he held in his fist, feeling that he was descending into madness.

As they landed in the valley below the fortress he slid off his saddle, thinking that he had to share his plan with her, lest she accidentally say something herself that might destroy their credibility.

"− uncle −" She began, walking towards him, her face all pink and sweaty from exertion, unruly strands of her hair clinging to her skin.

His heart pounded harder.

You will come back here to face your nephew and you will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing.

You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death.

He swallowed loudly, feeling that his vision was blank, his hands clenched into fists.

"− we'll tell them you're expecting my child −" He said coolly, sidestepping her, heading ahead, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible − he heard her draw in a loud breath as she moved immediately after him, terrified, trying to keep up with him.

"− what? − Aemond, we can't lie, not now −" She muttered, clearly terrified by this vision − he pressed his lips together into a thin line, furious that she was making this all even more difficult.

"− they must agree to our terms − I will not discuss my decisions with you −" He growled impatiently and stopped when her silhouette appeared in front of him – her palms slapped against his chest, a fury in her eyes that startled him.

"− you will − you don't know them as well as you do − Daemon can sense the lie, he will see it in your eyes − do you think that once they understand that you are manipulating them they will agree to whatever conditions you set for them? −" She asked with an irritation in her voice that he didn't like; he felt a cold sweat on his neck at the unbearable thought that she was partly right.

Fuck.

He stared at her for a moment, breathing heavily, feeling like he was about to faint, another disturbing thought flashed through his mind.

What had that whore said to her?

"− that fucking witch − what did she say to you? −" He asked uneasily, wanting to be sure she wasn't trying to manipulate his wife the way she was trying to manipulate him.

His Rhaenys blinked rapidly and swallowed hard, as if his question made her uncomfortable − he felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach at the sight.

"− that we should not return to Harrenhal − that I should watch out for myself and trust no one −" She muttered, and he felt his heart stop.

That we should not return to Harrenhal.

That I should watch out for myself and trust no one.

She warned her.

Why?

He felt that he understood absolutely none of this; the woman's behaviour seemed to make no sense to him, but that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst part was the thought that perhaps she really believed what she said.

That perhaps she really did see his betrayal and what he would do next in her dream or in the fire.

He stood watching her like a small, frightened child who was afraid to tell a parent that he had stolen and destroyed their favourite book unwillingly, who was afraid to admit his guilt for fear of punishment and what it entailed.

She must have seen what was happening to him in his gaze because she walked over to him and touched his upper arms, her scent, the smell of vanilla reached his nose.

"− husband, what happened? − if you have doubts, let's discuss everything − but please don't close yourself in the fortress of your mind −" She muttered pleadingly, her voice warm and calm, soothing, as if she understood that he was afraid.

That thought, the realisation that she knew him well enough that he couldn't hide from her what was happening inside him made him feel even worse.

He thought she would loathe him forever.

He swallowed hard as she cupped his cheeks between her hands and closed his eyes, feeling himself tremble all over, focusing only on her closeness.

"− uncle − look at me − I am your ally − I always have been −" She whispered tenderly making another wave of heat and fear surge through his body at the same time, causing something inside him to crack.

"You're your parents' child too. Just like me. What will you do when one of them demands the other's head?" He asked coldly, feeling his heart pounding like mad − he felt like he could hear in his ears the fast pumping of blood through his veins.

His wife furrowed her brows, shaking her head as if she did not understand what he had just said to her.

"− I will never agree to this − despite what your grandfather and your mother did to me, I will not agree for them to be harmed if you assure me to do the same − you know that I am not driven by revenge − and you? − you are the one who constantly doubts me, however, ever since I appeared in King's Landing you have been the one to let me down − yet I remain faithful to you − I chose you, uncle, when will you understand it? − when will you understand that there is no other way for me but by your side even if I come to burn? −"

She said in a trembling, angry, breaking voice from which a shiver ran down his back; he looked at her in disbelief feeling his body filled with guilt and shame.

You are the one who constantly doubts me, however, ever since I appeared in King's Landing you have been the one to let me down.

She was right.

She welcomed him with open arms despite the fact that he hadn't answered her letters for eight years; she didn't show him any kind of resentment, she didn't demand an apology from him, she lavished him with understanding and tenderness when he needed it, wanting to make things right.

It was he who betrayed her when Aegon became King.

It was his mother who forced her to drink the moon tea.

He was the one who made her try to take her own life.

He was the one who kept her locked up like a prisoner.

And yet, it was he who perpetually accused her in his head of the possibility of betrayal, as if he was just waiting for it.

For an excuse to decide that this was never going to succeed.

Despite this, she was now standing in front of him, being on his side, willing to fight alongside him for a future for them.

He felt a squeeze in his throat at this realisation, at the thought that there was never any other way for him than the one that would always lead him to her, to his beloved, to his friend.

To his Rhaenys.

He lifted his hand, in some subconscious gesture of tenderness and closeness placing an unruly strand of her dark hair behind her ear, looking at her pretty face, at her bright, shining eyes, at her long lashes, at her swollen, moist lips − everything that belonged to him, that he could take every night.

He felt his manhood twitch in his breeches at the thought.

"Can I kiss you?" He heard her whisper and looked at her, seeing that she was staring at him exactly as she had then, that day when she had come to his chamber as a child, holding a small book clutched to her chest in her hands.

He leaned towards her without a word and closed his eyes, sighing in relief when her plump, soft lips pressed against his in a sweet, sticky kiss; she pulled away from him, stroking his cheeks and hair with her hands, but it wasn't enough for him.

"One more time."

He moaned into her mouth and locked her in the tight, strong embrace of his arms as her lips pressed against his again, this time as if she wanted to devour him, her wet, swollen lips sucking and licking him making him completely hard; he felt the lust, the hot feeling he shared with her shake his body as his eyes involuntarily filled with tears at the thought of what he had heard.

You will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing.

You will put your child inside me.

But he wanted her.

He wanted his childhood friend.

His lover, his companion, his joy.

She filled his heart with herself so much that there was no room in it for any Visenya.

"I love you." He muttered helplessly, feeling the words leave his throat without the participation of his free will. "I've always loved you."

He felt her gasp loudly at his words as her body trembled in his arms; his heart squeezed tight with pain as she wept quietly.

"− I feel that some weight has crushed you, my beloved − it covers you like a heavy black cloak − but I am by your side − I am with you − trust me − I know how to speak with them, I know them −" She mumbled out looking at him with a hot gaze full of affection from which he felt that nothing mattered anymore, that he couldn't fight himself or what only she could do.

He was completely helpless against her.

"− will you be by my side even when all is lost? − even if there is nothing left but darkness? −" He asked in a breaking voice, and she smiled, so sweetly, tenderly, joyfully that his hands clenched tighter on her body.

"− yes − don't go the path I could not follow − let me stay by your side − if I am to leave this world, I want to die in your arms −" She whispered softly, and he felt that it was over for him, that whatever he had been thinking about a moment ago, it didn't matter.

"− so be it − fall with me −" He breathed out, before his lips pressed greedily into hers, his fingers digging into the material of her leather coat enclosing her in his tight embrace, their tongues colliding with each other, licking with their soft sighs of pleasure.

He thought, panting hard into her throat, caressing her with a loud click of their saliva, that he could take her now, on the grass, in front of everyone, and fuck her so hard that the whole Eyrie would hear.

This, however, did not happen.

The sight of her would-be betrothed was the last thing he wanted to see − Ronnel Arryn seemed to him to be a boastful and self-obsessed man, focused only on the tonnage of his muscles and how he presented himself.

His grin full of mockery which he threw back at him, looking at the left side of his face made him involuntarily think how pleasant it would be to just slit his throat.

He remembered why they were actually there when they walked into the circular chamber where his uncle and half-sister were waiting for them − he pressed his lips into a thin line seeing that his sister-whore dared to wear his father's crown on her head.

He said nothing.

As his wife threw herself into her mother's arms, he glanced at Daemon; his uncle stood back leaning lazily against the wall, his chin lifted slightly in some sort of challenge, a lazy, mocking smirk on his face.

"Let's sit down." He heard his sister's voice at last, but he had no intention of obeying her orders; so he stood, looking at his uncle, who also had not moved from his place, stroking the handle of his Dark Sister thoughtfully.

"My husband has conveyed to me that my brother-usurper wants to pact over the succession of the throne he himself has unlawfully taken. I must admit that this is a quite ridiculous situation." Rheanrya began, and he rolled his eyes, feeling frustrated and impatient. His wife threw him a quick, frightened glance − he, however, just looked at her, letting her speak.

He decided that he would trust her.

His niece grunted loudly and looked at her mother, adjusting herself in her seat, tense.

"My uncle, Prince Aegon, had no choice. His mother is deeply convinced that her husband, my grandfather, and our King, revealed his final will to her before he died. She mentioned to my uncle about the Prince who was promised, about Aegon's dream. I think she misunderstood him, mother, I…" She paused as Rheanyra looked quickly in Daemon's direction − he and his wife exchanged quick, shocked glances between themselves.

He furrowed his brow, feeling discomfort in his pit, wondering what they knew that might have escaped his attention.

Her mother looked at her again, some strange glint in her gaze.

"Mother?"

"Aegon the Conqueror's Dream. A Song of Ice and Fire. This is the prophecy my father spoke to me about. Whatever Alicent heard, it did not apply to her firstborn son." She said in a trembling voice, as if it was obvious to her.

He felt rage at the thought that their father had shared with his daughter some prophecy, a future that was to befall their lineage, but did not consider them, his sons, worthy of the privilege.

Humiliation, shame and anger surged through his body making his words involuntarily leave his lips.

"You mean to say that our father only conveyed the contents of this prophecy to you, but you don't believe my mother that he could have passed on to her that he changed his mind regarding the succession?" He growled, his sister and uncle throwing him quick, warning glances.

"Calm down, nephew. You are speaking to the Queen." Daemon reminded him, and he looked at him with rage.

"She is not my Queen." He hissed, his hand sliding down to the hilt of his sword when he saw Daemon's fingers tighten around his Dark Sister.

"That's enough. We have met here because Aegon realises, as you do Mother, that his and your children's rights to the throne will be challenged, and the war will not end with your death." His wife interjected, startling him as did the rest of those gathered, his heart began to pound like mad.

What?

"Are you undermining Jace, my firstborn son's right to the throne?" Her mother asked in a trembling tone, clearly not believing what she was suggesting.

Her daughter drew in a loud breath and swallowed hard before answering her.

"He's a bastard, mother. Like me, Luke and Joffrey, he cannot inherit the throne. Will you cut off my tongue for those words? Will you deprive me of my head, father?"

He looked at her with his lips slightly parted, feeling that his mind was not yet able to comprehend fully what she had actually done.

She continued, however, as if the words were pouring out of her like a river.

"We just lie and lie and lie until in the end we ourselves don't know where the truth lies, but it is there somewhere, always, and sooner or later none of us will be able to deny it even if we beheaded all the men in the Seven Kingdoms."

He felt a surge of satisfaction and warm affection shake his body at her words, at her proof that she understood him, understood his pain, understood why her brothers could not be heirs to the throne.

How could he ever doubt her?

Her mother and stepfather seemed as shocked as he was, unable to get a word out.

"How dare you say such a thing? Your father, Laenor Velaryon, has recognised you and your brothers as his heirs. He gave you his name, he recognised you as his child in the eyes of the kingdom." Her mother muttered, clearly heartbroken that her own daughter was challenging her words.

"But the whole Kingdom knows, mother. Even if Jace were to sit on the throne after your death, his lineage will not be forgotten. Are you prepared to die knowing that neither he nor his children will ever be safe? That, like my uncle's coronation, his coronation would also be challenged by lords across the Kingdom?" She asked in pain, as if she herself could no longer bear what was happening, how far they had gone in pretending what was the truth and what was a lie.

He thought that he himself would not have put into words better what he thought and acknowledged with pride that his wife was a great speaker.

That even he would have hesitated and reconsidered what she had said if he had heard the arguments spoken in this way.

"I know what humiliation you experienced, mother, and how much suffering you endured. Believe me that I did too. I, too, do not believe my grandfather would change his mind on his deathbed. I did not and do not recognise Aegon as King, nor have I ever called him that or given him the honour he deserves.

However, if we do not find an agreement, war will break out not only in the Realm, but in our family. This is what King Viserys wanted to prevent at the last supper before his death. Mother, after all, you are siblings. Your brother, though a traitor, extends his hand, he is ready to relinquish the crown he stole from you."

An awkward silence fell; Rhaenyra looked over her shoulder at her husband, apparently seeking his advice. His uncle stared at her with clenched lips, clearly believing that she should fight for her rights no matter what − even at the cost of war.

His half-sister looked at her daughter again and swallowed hard.

"I can consider the terms my husband has conveyed to me, but I also have my conditions. I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will be named as ruler-regents only if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

You and your husband will share the power of the Kingdom equally and neither of you will sit on the throne or wear the crown. Aegon the Conqueror's crown and my father's crown will be kept in the treasury.

In addition, my husband and I will sit on the Small Council, and deprived of their seats will be your grandfather and Alicent. In addition, Otto Hightower will be stripped of all other functions and privileges and will reside under our oversight in King's Landing.

Jace will inherit Dragonstone as my first-born son. If no male heir is born to you, the official heirs will be the children from my and my uncle's marriage, pureblood Targaryens."

He stared at her wide-eyed, feeling the cold sweat on his back, his heart pounding like mad as his mind tried to quickly analyse what he had heard.

I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will only become ruler-regent if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

You and your husband will share power in the kingdom equally and neither of you will sit on the throne or wear the crown. Aegon the Conqueror's crown and my father's crown will be kept in the treasury.

She wanted the kingdom to be ruled by two kings.

She wanted him and her daughter to have the same title, the same privileges.

He saw his niece look at him, her eyes big with terror, filled with fear of how he would react.

No, he thought.

She was no longer her daughter.

She was no longer a bastard.

She was his wife.

When he had covered her shoulders with the cloak with his family crest she had officially taken his name, and who her father was no longer mattered.

Although he knew that the name her mother had given her was different, to him she was Rhaenys.

Rhaenys Targaryen.

His childhood friend, a woman he trusted, respected, loved, whose opinion and letters he had held deep in his heart for years, whom he would have consulted if he had become king-regent anyway.

The thought that she would stand by his side, that she would help him carry this burden, that she would be like a second, necessary pillar to support the whole crumbling structure that was their family, filled him, to his surprise, not with frustration but relief.

He nodded his head.

His wife sighed quietly, looking at him with hope, turning her gaze to her mother. Rhaenyra's eyes welled with tears of grief and sorrow as she nodded, sealing her decision.

She had agreed.

Gods, she agreed.

"Pass on my words to my brother. Let him know that this is not just about my pride, but about the welfare of the Kingdom and our family. That I respect my father's will and hope that he will do the same." She said dispassionately and he nodded, feeling his whole body quiver with emotion, his hands clasped behind his back clenched into fists.

"You are surely exhausted. My cousin has prepared chambers for you where you can rest to set off on your return journey as we will tomorrow morning. Let us have supper together. I have been separated from my one daughter for too long." She said matter-of-factly and he swallowed hard feeling that he had completely frozen.

No.

None of them could stay here.

He couldn't propose that they fly to King's Landing knowing that they would surely disagree, so in desperation he proposed something that shocked everyone, including himself.

"No." He said coolly. "We'll spend the night in Dragonstone."

His niece beamed all over, her cheek blushing with happiness, as if she didn't believe his words.

"Do you mean it?" She asked sweetly like a little child to whom he had just given a wonderful surprise.

He felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought.

"Yes." He replied calmly, glancing at his uncle, who was squinting, watching him intently. "As an expression of my goodwill."

Daemon tapped the tip of his tongue against the wall of his cheek and hummed under his breath, a tense silence fell between them.

His wife was right.

He had the feeling that his gaze was piercing him to the core.

He muttered under his breath and looked at his wife − Rhaenyra, like his niece, seemed shocked by his proposal, but also pleased at the prospect of her daughter returning to her family home, if only for a while.

"Well…I see no objection. Daemon?" She asked her husband, who looked at his daughter. Apparently, something in her pleading gaze made him decide to remain silent for the time being, as he merely nodded his head in wordless agreement.

He closed his eyes and sighed quietly in relief, feeling a huge stone fall from his heart.

He stepped back, allowing Rhaenyra to leave, just behind her the room left Daemon throwing him one vigilant, mocking look telling him that he knew there was something more behind his words.

His wife, however, overwhelmed by excitement and joy, seemed not to notice it − she ran to him and snuggled into him, clasping her hands on his back, his arms immediately enclosing her in a tight, secure embrace.

He hadn't betrayed her.

He would never betray her.

So why did he feel so guilty?

"There are no words in which I can describe my gratitude to you. "She whispered, burying her face in his chest; he sighed heavily, pressing his lips to the top of her head, stroking her soft hair and neck with his fingers.

"I'm proud of you." He said calmly wanting her to know that he admired what she had done, the calmness in which she had presented his side's reasons while showing understanding and respect for her mother's rights and heritage.

He thanked the gods that he knew when to shut his mouth.

She looked at him and smiled shyly, as if his words surprised and embarrassed her. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, pressing her soft lips to his, and he murmured low, feeling a tightness in his throat.

He should tell her, he thought with pain, but he didn't know how.

He didn't want to spoil this beautiful moment.

So he kept silent, but the guilt, the fact that he was hiding something from her, pressed down on his shoulders like a huge burden, through which he could experience neither relief nor satisfaction that Rhaenyra had agreed to their terms.

He never expected to fly through the skies beside Larax, Caraxes and Syrax, to ever see Dragonstone, to propose a journey there of his own accord.

He felt shame filling him.

As he and his wife stepped inside their fortress, where their children were already waiting for them, an awkward silence ensued. Jace and Luke stood behind a large stone table that resembled the shape of all of Westeros, looking at him in disbelief and horror. He shuddered when he saw that Rhaena was the first to rush ahead, sidestepping him and her father, enclosing his wife in a sincere, tender embrace.

"I'm so happy you're alive." She muttered in a breaking voice – his niece stroked her back with a smile.

"Me too." He heard her whisper.

After a moment, Baela joined them, throwing him a cold, warning glance along the way, from which he only rolled his eyes. He looked again at Luke, who swallowed hard and lowered his gaze, clearly unable to bear his presence.

He felt disgusted at the sight of them, two boys with cheeks flushed from shame, who knew full well that they did not and should not have any claim to the throne.

He grinned involuntarily at the thought, seeing how pale Jace was, that he understood for certain that their presence meant he would officially cease to be his mother's heir.

Satisfaction as sweet as poison coursed through his veins at the thought.

Jace drew in a breath at the sight of his grimace, his hands clenched into fists as if he felt like lashing out at him − he flinched when Daemon stepped in front of him, standing between them and shook his head.

Jace swallowed hard, furious, lowering his gaze to the stone floor beneath his feet.

None of them came up to greet his niece; only little Joffrey ran up to her and burst into tears screaming that she had left them alone.

They resented her for the side she had chosen in their minds.

She was the only reason they were both still alive, he thought with a sneer.

His half-sister, seeing the look on his face and sensing the tension that reigned around them, decided to take pity on them and suggested that they make themselves comfortable in the chamber that had previously belonged to his wife.

He accepted her words with relief.

As they stepped inside he felt a squeeze in his throat − her quarters were modest, filled with her scent, the windows of her room facing the open sea, the sound of which he could clearly hear. He walked deeper in, looking around her chests of drawers and wardrobes, her wooden bookcases filled to the brim with books, before his gaze finally settled on an ornate oak desk.

He swallowed hard imagining her seated figure bent over parchment.

"− is this here? −" He asked casually, running his fingers over the table top, noticing with a pained heart that it was dusty.

A sign of how long she had not been here.

His niece looked at him surprised and blushed, as if the mere mention embarrassed her.

"− yes −"

He sat down in the chair she sat in every time she wished to convey her thoughts to him, to put them on paper, which then flew all the way to King's Landing to reach his hands. He glanced towards the windows, wondering how many times she had deliberated on choosing the right words while observing exactly the same view.

He thought he was touched.

"− we should rest, husband − if that's what you wish, we'll have supper alone −" She said softly, her voice trembling with excitement and joy.

She couldn't believe she was home again.

He nodded, not knowing what more he could answer.

He had felt the tension all evening; his wife had shown him various books she had read over the years, which she had told him about in her letters. He tried to listen to her and nod, stroking her arm with the tips of his fingers as she sat beside him, flicking through page after page of one of the volumes, looking for the quote she had mentioned to him. Her question pulled him out of his musings.

"− uncle − will you tell me what troubles you? −"

He looked at her horrified and swallowed with difficulty − he only grunted, not knowing what he should answer like a child caught in the act.

"I'm tired." He replied acknowledging that this was partly true. She nodded in understanding, he closed his eyelids as her hand gently stroked his cheek.

"Let's go to bed."

He wasn't going to fight her.

He wanted to leave this place as soon as possible and get away from Daemon's disturbing gaze.

His wife pressed her lips together, seeing that he had put a dagger under his pillow before he lay down − however, she said nothing, knowing he might trust her, but certainly not her family.

He lay down beside her, sighing heavily, and closed his eyes, figuring that perhaps when he woke up the next day and realised that tragedy had been avoided due to his decision, his conscience would have a little more mercy for him.

He murmured contentedly as he felt her arms embrace him, cuddling his face between her breasts, the warmth of her body, her scent filling his entire lungs. He tightened his hands on her back, trying to focus only on the touch of her hands, on her fingers combing gently through his hair, on the lullaby she hummed softly under her breath, and from which his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

When the moon rises

over the dark sky

When you hear from afar

my bitter cry

Know that I long

Know that I long

Know that I long

When the sun rises

over the bright sky

When you hear from afar

my joyful cry

Know that I'm home

Know that I'm home

Know that I'm home

And then sleep fell over him.

His lips clung to her soft, long neck, sweaty from exertion, heavy, drawn-out sighs full of pleasure left his lips as his hips with sure, deep, quick thrusts pounded again and again into her hot, fleshy interior.

"− forgive me − I've missed you − oh, my sweetest −" He breathed out, quickening his pace, sinking his nose into her dark curls, her moans muffled by the pillow she was cuddling her face into. Her body, though different, was just as warm, her scent, though different, was similar to hers.

It didn't matter to him, because she was there for him, because she had forgiven him.

"− I love you − oh fuck, Rhaenys −" He muttered, clenching his eyes, coming inside her at last, experiencing such immense relief that he cursed for another moment, rocking his hips inside her. He swallowed hard, worried that she wasn't saying anything, his fingers took strands of her hair from her face wanting to see her eyes and then he saw it.

Green irises, luscious as grass.

"− is it true? − is she carrying your child? −" He heard her voice as if from afar and suddenly he was standing in front of her in his chamber in King's Landing, feeling his heart pounding like mad, a cold sweat running down his back.

He felt a strong gag reflex and held it back with the remnants of his strong will.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

What had he done?

"− answer me − is she carrying your child? −" His wife, his Rhaenys muttered in a voice breaking with pain and despair, her cheeks red from tears, her eyebrows arched in rage, in her gaze something he feared most.

Disgust.

"− I − I don't know −" He mumbled, trying to remember what had actually happened, how he could have done it when, after all, he had promised himself it would never, never happen.

He thought about how he hadn't touched her in so long, how he had missed her so much.

When she discovered that he had hidden the truth from her, what his grandfather had planned, that he knew what could have happened to them in the Eyrie but hadn't told her, she hadn't slept in his chamber, hadn't eaten supper with him, hadn't spoken to him or looked at him even though he had tried so hard to please her.

"− don't you know? − don't you know if you put your bastard inside her? −" She mumbled and burst out into a loud, miserable sob, hiding her face in her hands − he looked at her, panting hard, shaking all over, not knowing what he was supposed to say, what he was supposed to do.

"− HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!? −" She almost screamed, falling to her knees as if without strength, whining loudly like some kind of animal, her whole being trembling and twitching in convulsions − he approached her quickly, kneeling beside her, trying to touch her, but she pushed him away.

"− my beloved − please − I was possessed by madness, I swear − I − I thought it was you −" He muttered, not knowing how he could explain such a betrayal, such humiliation she suffered because of him.

"− you thought it was me? − you fucked another woman and thought it was me? − gods, Aemond, don't touch me! − don't touch me −" She howled, her voice at once enraged, full of pain, suffering and grief, her eyes red with tears, her whole body quivering.

He was the reason for this.

He had done this to her.

"− my Prince − my Prince, quickly, your wife! −" He heard someone shout – he shuddered as he sat by the fireplace, gazing in horror at the figure of the guard who had rushed into his chamber.

As he stepped out into the corridor he heard someone's loud sobs and screams tearing at his heart; as he ran inside he froze noticing the figure of Rheaenyra kneeling on the floor, covering her mouth with her hand − his wife, and her daughter, was hanging from a rope tied to the frame of her bed, which was tightened around her neck, her dark hair covering her bowed head, her feet not touching the floor.

He ran to her trying to lift her, trying to pull her down, but he knew, felt, that it was too late, her body cold, numb, empty.

His face sank into her flesh covered only by the material of her nightgown muffling his loud, desperate scream.

"Uncle! Uncle, please, wake up!"

He opened his eyes and pulled himself up to sit down, panting heavily, feeling his heart pounding like mad – he could see nothing through the tears that one by one ran down his face, his body twitching all over in convulsions as if it had gone into a state of absolute panic.

"− easy, my love − breathe −" He heard someone's voice beside him, her voice – he looked at her as if he didn't recognise her, her eyes wide in terror, her hand stroking his shoulder reassuringly.

"− Rhaenys − Rhaenys −" He mumbled out like a small child calling out to its mother, bursting into sobs of relief and terror that shook his body − he snuggled into her breast, clasping his fingers on her back so tightly that she hissed in pain – however, she did not push him away and her arms enclosed him in a tight, secure embrace.

"− I'm here, my love − I'm here −" She whispered, again and again placing warm, moist kisses on the top of his head, combing her fingers through his hair.

For a moment he merely wept and quivered, unable to catch his breath, trying to calm himself, listening to her whisper, breathing in her scent, enjoying her closeness, the touch of her hand.

It seemed to him that it was hours before he began to breathe normally, before he realised that all he had seen was just a nightmare, that he was lying with his wife in her bed in Dragonstone.

That all was not yet lost.

He swallowed hard and clenched his eyes shut.

"− there's something − there's something I want to tell you −"

[drchenquill]

Foliè - Chapter 21

The after

Leaning against a wall, I watched the now no longer dead man as he looked at himself in my mirror for the past hour. I had invited him into my temple. It was spacious, at least for one person. When you entered, you found yourself in a hall that could accommodate at least twenty people.

The walls were decorated with grotesque drawings of me, or rather, of what people thought represented me. They knew what I looked like because I had shown myself to them, but they had to exaggerate, so much so that they often drew me foaming at the mouth as if I had rabies. Well, rabies was something I had invented, but it was in bad taste to portray me in such a way. At the end of the hall was an altar where offerings were often made. They slaughtered rabid animals with the idea that I liked it. I was never present at the sacrifices, I didn't want to assist such things, but I couldn't forbid them because I wanted them to continue visiting me. In retrospect, I realized that the main reason for many of my actions was loneliness. I was spreading misery because loneliness had filled me with anger. But since I had made that little swap, loneliness was a distant memory. “It's been so long since I've had that pretty face in front of me.” Said the now clearly alive man as he looked at his face sideways. Behind the hall was a small room they had built for me to retreat to. There wasn't much in it, as I didn't need much as a deity. The mirror he was standing in front of was a gift from when I once helped a young man take revenge on his superior. Since I didn't need sleep, I didn't have a bed at my disposal. On the floor was a large carpet decorated with a drawing that had faded over the years and was now covered in dust. There was no window, just a large candlestick next to the mirror. “God I missed me.” With that sentence, I couldn't help but laugh softly. I pushed myself away from the wall and stepped closer so that I too could get a better look at him. I couldn't lie, he was handsome, but not because of his beautiful gray-green eyes or his soft hair. Nor was his shiny skin the reason for his good looks. He looked alive. That was it. He was alive, no longer the walking corpse I'd had in front of me until now.

My hand moved of its own accord and my fingers stroked the back of his neck.

Warm.

His skin was warm under my fingertips. Is this what a living person felt like? My fingers wandered and buried themselves in his hair. I lost myself in the feeling and didn't notice the rosy color in his cheeks as he looked at me through the mirror.

He cleared his throat and I pulled back.

His hand stroked the place where my fingers had recently been.

“So... what now? I mean, everything's settled. What's next?” he asked me. What next? I didn't know. I was immortal, I was madness, but I was not omniscient. I didn't know the future and I certainly didn't know his thoughts. What did he want?

“I doubt you want to go far from this temple and I have nowhere to go. The village I come from would not be eager for my return.”

He was right. We both had nowhere to go, we just existed, I because I was what I was, he because he was probably not well regarded. I was about to ask him what was on his mind when his eyes widened. What was going on? What had crossed his mind? My thoughts fell silent as he explained the reason for his sudden panic.

“That girl whose body you used, is she gone already?”

Confused and slightly irritated that he mentioned her, I nodded. “Yes, she disappeared as soon as we were back in our own bodies.” She wasn't part of the story anymore, why did he bring her up? I wanted to forget her, I wanted to forget what a monster I was. I crossed my arms again and tilted my head. “Why do you ask?” He gave a forced smile as if to soothe his next words.

“Didn't you bring down an entire village with her body?”

The world fell silent as reality hit me like a slap in the face. I had used her body to destroy a village. But she had known about it, she had been there. There was no way she was stupid enough to go back there. Was she?

“Do you really think she went back there?” I asked him, hoping to hear a ‘no’, but instead he just shrugged. That wasn't the answer I wanted. “She can't be that stupid,” I said louder than I intended. He put his hands up and explained, “I don't know, but one thing's for sure, she's blinded by joy, so there's a chance she just went home for the sheer joy of getting her body back.”

“And that village is her home.” I finished his sentence and stroked my now tired face. Why couldn't I get any rest now that I had hoped everything was settled? I tried to be optimistic, but it was difficult. Now I had to save a girl from arrest and very likely execution that I had never wanted to see again. I wanted to close this part of my life, forget it, bury it, but no, fate had other ideas. I had resolved to stop seeing people in a bad light, but they didn't make it easy for me when they did such stupid things.

“What should we do? Should we go and see?” he asked uncertainly.

With a sigh, I stepped out of the room. He followed silently and stepped out of the temple with me. Outside, I felt the pure air flowing through my lungs. I closed my eyes. As much as I didn't want to go and leave her in misery, I couldn't ignore the fact that I met him thanks to her. Thanks to her, I got to know myself again through him. Thanks to him, I found out that my life didn't have to be filled with loneliness, and I hadn't been able to experience that without her.

I turned to him and held out my hand. He took it and smiled bemusedly. “I take it you've made up your mind.” I nodded and pulled him slightly closer.

“We're going to go save her ass.”

He laughed slightly in surprise, which made me raise an eyebrow. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you've changed, little mouse.”

My heart pounded out of my chest and my cheeks heated up. Little mouse, he had called me little mouse again. I smiled softly and pulled him close to me.

“Okay, it looks like you're stronger than I expected.” he said with a laugh as he wrapped an arm around my waist. I couldn't help but grin as I said, “That's nothing yet. Do you feel like traveling like a deity?”

Despite the smile, I saw panic in his eyes. “I would like to travel like a human, thank you very much. On foot, just on foot.”

I shook my head and held him close to me to keep him from slipping out of my grasp.

“Little mouse, I mean it, I want-” his words melted into the wind as I dashed through the forest at superhuman speed without warning. His grip on me was painfully tight and his screams deafening, but I couldn't dwell on it.

I had a young woman to save.

~~~

chapter 20/ chapter 22

Foliè tag list: @theink-stainedfolk , @frostedlemonwriter , @leahnardo-da-veggie , @rivenantiqnerd , @thecomfywriter , @fablesandfragments

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus Part 2

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash. 

Prologue     Chapter 1  

“Young Sir! Come look at this! A beautiful gift for your sweetheart, no?”

Logan bit back a curse as Roman, once again, slipped form his side and almost skipped towards the merchants stall.

They had finally left the forest earlier that morning. Barley a quarter- mile beyond the tree line the path merged with the great eastern road, already heaving with traders wagons heading to Steveange for the monthly market. Roman had gone to work immediately, finding an exhausted looking couple and charming them into exchanging a ride in the back of their cart for a selection of songs to soothe their gaggle of bored children.

Even Logan, no lover of music, could admit that Romans voices was objectively pleasing. Even the wailing baby settled down under the effects of his lullaby.

The closer they got to the city gates the more densely packed the road became, to the point where their pace might have been improved by walking. But the rest was welcome and the sun was still high in the sky by the time they had finally made it to the city square. They might even have made it to their target in good time, had Patton not insisted that they stay to help the family unload every box and crate from their cart before moving on.

Patton stood nearly seven foot tall, with shoulders to match and the patience of a Raspanzean monk. Moving him when he had decided not to move was difficult at the best of times.  Currently, with a good deed in need of doing and no less than three small children clambering all over him, it was going to be impossible.

Logan looked at Virgil for support.

Virgil was already manhandling the smallest sack of produce down from the cart, under close supervision of a surly looking nine year old.

Logan looked back at Patton. Patton had somehow acquired a fourth child, and was swinging the small boy gently back and forth with one giant arm.

Logan sighed.  

Eventually they agreed that Patton and Virgil would stay to help the family, and then set about finding the four of them somewhere to sleep. Logan and Roman would head down the main street, complete their mission and return with, hopefully, enough coin to let them settle here for at least a weeks rest.

Which Logan would have no problem with. Except that the monthly market seemed far larger than when Logan had visited the city as a young apprentice. The city square was packed with stalls filled with meat, produce, spices and enough live animals to generate a stink so strong even Patton and his twice broken nose winced. The main road meanwhile was filled with more temporary looking stalls offering books, jewellery and potions of every colour alongside the usual clothing and home wear. These continued the whole length of the road from the square to the city temple and even spilled over into the side streets and thoroughfares of the city proper.

All of which apparently meant Roman couldn’t walk for more than two minutes without stopping to gawk at whatever gaudy display was on offer or chat with the seller.

“Roman!” he caught up with the wayward bard at a jewellers stall, where a heavy set man with salt and pepper hair was holding up an extremely impractical looking necklace for him to inspect

“Oh there you are specs” Roman grinned at him, “have you seen Master Galvenets wares? Look how shiny!”

“Is this your sweetheart?” The jeweller – presumably Master Galvenet – grinned at Logan with far too many teeth and reached below the makeshift counter top, “Then may I suggest this one instead – to match his  eyes?”

The necklace he presented was even bigger than the last. With blue glass masquerading as the sapphires surrounded by enough ostentatious filigree to decorate a dukes bed chamber. Logan stared,  momentarily struck dumb by his own disdain.

Roman nudged him, waggling his eyebrows and giving him a lecherous grin “What do you think sweetie? It does match your eyes.”

Logan blanched. Turning quickly to the seller her snapped out “We are NOT together. And also - we’re, extremely poor. And not interested.”

He grabbed Roman’s wrist and proceeded to drag the giggling bard with him back towards the main street. “Can you try to focus?” Logan glared at him, “remember this package is time sensitive.” Superstitiously, Logan patted his pocket, feeling the shape of the vial they had been entrusted to transport to Steveange still safely stored inside.

Roman failed to look chastened. “Logan, it’s a herb. And we we’re asked to deliver it within a week – it’s only been five days! Your forest short cut worked, alright, the worlds not going to end if we stop to appreciate some fine wares on our way.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You consider Master Galvenet’s works, ‘fine wares’?”

Now Roman had the grace to look a little sheepish “They had a charm of their own.”

Logan hmphed. “They were very clearly fake.”

“Oh?” Roman linked their arms together, tugging him back into the steady stream of south bound shoppers, “How could you tell?”

Logan told him.

The ensuring lecture took them the rest of the way down main street, and into the rabbit warren of alleyways that branched out behind the city’s temple.

Even here, there were traders. Many had their wares spread out on blankets on the ground instead of stalls, but they seemed less inclined to call over whilst the two of them walked together deep in discussion and so, mercifully, there was less opportunities for Roman to get distracted.

“A festival?” Roman suggested. Logan shrugged, it was possible, something was certainly occurring to draw such an enormous throng.

Eventually, Logan had to admit that his boyhood memories were not enough to navigate every twist and turn of the city streets and Roman stepped away from him to ask a couple for directions. Logan took the chance to study him, but whatever fit of irrationality had led to him wandering back through half the forest the previous night seemed to have past. Even the scratches on his hands and arms had healed almost completely overnight, helped along by a generous slathering of healing salve from Virgil.

(Logan had, at the time, pointed out that the healer was using up rather a lot of their  dwindling supply for an extremely minor injury. Virgil had hissed at him)

Roman was often contradictory. He would spend a day whining about his need for beauty sleep but then stay up till the early hours to fulfil every song request from whatever crowd they managed to gather. He fussed with his makeup and performance clothing as much as a lady at court, but kept his hair cropped unfashionably short and made no effort to seek out high class patrons who could have kept him in silks and finery. He was talented enough with a lute to spend the social season entertaining upper class lords, and talented enough with a sword to spend the rest of his time as a body guard or becomes some towns local hero. Instead he travelled with them.

“You know, I’m fairly sure there were some gentlemen painting miniatures on the main road, if you want to keep staring at me that is.”

Logan flushed, caught. “Don’t be insufferable.”

“You don’t pay me enough for that” Roman grinned cheekily.

This was an old joke. Virgil had originally found Roman, and hired him as a body guard and escort for a three day trip through a bandit ridden mountain pass. Three weeks and many diversions later, they had emerged on the other side of the mountain. Roman had become as much a part of the group as any of the others and had stayed to travel with them as a friend rather than a hire.

Logan was glad of it. Most of the time.

“Did you get the directions?”

“I did, I had to ask three people before I found someone who recognised the address – the city’s full of tourists!”

 *

 The woman who opened the door looked like the word crone ha been invented especially for her. Her grey hair stuck out from a shoddily tied scarf and her face looked like at any moment it might collapse under the weight of her own frown. She scowled at the pair of them, looking like she already learned everything there was to know about them from one glance and found it all spectacularly unimpressive.

“What do you want?” She snapped.

Logan resisted the urge to smooth down his waistcoat like he was presenting to a lecturer and stepped forward.

“Good afternoon. We have been sent by Madam Valarie to –“

This, if anything, seemed to make the scowl deepen.

“My sister? What does that witch want?”

“To deliver you …this”

With a flourish Logan produced the vial and held it aloft. The thin shaft of light spilling from the doorway made the red herb glow a burning orange in the dim of the alley.

“And you think I’m dramatic.”

“Shush.”

Needlessly dramatic or not, he had the woman’s attention. She reached towards the vial with trembling hands but Logan drew back before she could make contact.

“Your sister paid us half, with the promise of the second half on delivery.” Reaching into a different pocket  he produced an envelope and held it out. “She told us to give you this – it should validate our story.”

The woman muttered something decidedly uncomplimentary under her breath but accepted the envelope. Without speaking further she turned and retreated into the hovel, leaving the door open behind her

The two men exchanged a glance, and then Roman deftly stepped around Logan to walk in first, one hand on his sword.

He needn’t have bothered, the short hallway opened up to small kitchen, where every conceivable surface was covered with books, scrolls and bric-a-brac. Three of the four walks were taken up with shelving where kitchen ingredients and appliances sat shoulder to shoulder with  ornaments, candles and what looked like half a taxidermy ostrich.  

If the old woman had hired muscle ready to take to leap out and take the herb by force, they would have had a hard time finding space to stand.

“My sister claims this was picked under the glow of a full moon.”

Logan nodded, “that is what we were given to understand.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “For this to be worth the price it needs to be used within ten days of the moon’s glow, my sisters village is two weeks ride away on the eastern road.”

“We came through the forest.” Logan explained, “Also, I sealed the herb in a pre-sterilised sample jar – the lack of air exposure should help it retain its freshness far beyond its normal time frame!”

The was a silence. The woman was now looking at Logan not with suspicion, but with the exasperation of a teacher whose student has just said something rather stupid.

Logan crossed his arms.

“If you look at the specimen carefully you will notice no discoloration or other signs of degradation – this method can be used to prolong the lifespan of most vegetation and-“

She interrupted him by laughing, an awful crows call of a noise, and held up a hand for silence.

“You are obviously quite uneducated.” she told him cheerfully “And you are bothering Mittens.”

“I beg your pardon I- wait what?”

“YOWCH!”

Logan spun round, as much as he could in the cramped space, only to find Roman desperately trying to relinquish a scrambling ball of fur back onto one of the high shelves. The cat had already dug its claws deep enough into the bards wrist to draw blood, and was currently clinging on for dear life as Roman waved his hand around like Patton trying to kill a spider.

“My apologies Master Mittens” Roman told the cat a few moments later, after Logan and the crone had  finally convinced it to release him “I thought you were a hat.”

“Why must you touch things.” Logan hissed and was surprised by a much gentler laugh from their hostess.

“Aw now,  Mittens is not the most dangerous thing you could have touched in my kitchen. Here. Drink.”

Logan blinked as she shoved hot cup into his hands. Its contents was extremely dark and disturbingly viscous. A few drops glopped over the side, singeing his finger. He held it as far from his body as he possibly could.

“And for you?” She held up a second cup towards Roman who smiled politely but shook his head ‘no’

“No thank you, Madam.”

“We’re both fine.” Logan said firmly, putting the cup down on one of the first patches of exposed surface he could find. “If you wouldn’t mind completing our transaction we will take our leave of this…place.”

She looked at him for one long moment and then turned back to Roman.

“Your friend says you passed through the Serpents Forrest”

Logan frowned - “That’s not what the locals called it.”

“Well that’s who lives there.” The crone snapped without turning around, “One of the darker fae. I’m not surprised he” – she jerked her chin back towards Logan – “ got through alright, since the gods look after fools.”

“Excuse me!”

“But how did you manage?”

Roman juts shrugged, eyes sparkling with mirth at Logan’s outraged expression. “We saw no one Madam, but if we had done - I carry iron.”

That rusted hunk of junk Logan thought, but the crone was nodding approvingly

“A clever boy” she patted Roman cheek, “I thought so when I heard your accent – you’re from beyond the mountains.”

Logan frowned. He was not gifted when it came to interpreting expressions, but he thought Romans smile had suddenly become very fixed.

“So are you.” Roman replied softly.

There was a moments quiet whilst the two looked at each other and Logan tried not to roll his eyes out of his own head. All they needed to do was a simple swap of coin for produce and instead Roman had manged to find the only other grown adult in Steveange who still believed in fairies.

Whatever northerner to northerner communication was happening seemed to pass, and the crone reached past Roman to pull a small burlap sack from the shelf. Mittens took the opportunity to skitter across her arm and settle himself on her shoulder.

“Here you are then.” She tipped the sack out on top of an open tome, producing three cloves of garlic and a hefty pile of coins Logan couldn’t help but stare. That was more money than Logan had seen in one place since he had started traveling.

The crone picked out three gold pieces and a fistful of silver and handed them to Logan. He counted quickly and handed her the vial. Transaction complete, Logan headed immediately to the door, but turned back when he realised Roman wasn’t with him

He was still trapped between the crone and the shelving. “Will you come and see me before you leave the city?” she asked “It would be nice to share my tea with someone who would appreciate it.”

Logan thought to the gelatinous mess in the tea cup and gagged but Roman just smiled

“If time allows my lady.” He brought her withered hand to his lips and deposited a courtly kiss before sidestepping her and heading after Logan.

The city alley smelt almost like fresh air after the over mixture of incense, garlic and cat that her permeated the crones kitchen, and Logan breathed it in gratefully before setting off. Roman falling into sept beside him.

Logan glanced at him, uncertain.

He knew Roman was from the Northern Kingdom. He guessed from his speech patterns that he either grew up upper class or was truly committed to his larger than life bard persona. He had mentioned a brother once, off hand, and during an argument compared Logan to a tutor he’d disliked who had made him study maps until he could recount every river on the continent by heart.

That was all he knew.

Logan was curious by nature, a trait which tended to get him in trouble. He would have liked to pepper Roman with a hundred questions about life beyond the mountains, but Patton had told him once he should only ask a question about a sensitive subject if he was prepared to answer one himself.

None of them like to talk about where they came from, but that was fine. They were going forward together.

It was obvious though, that meeting his countryman had shaken Roman. He walked silently, even when they turned into a wider street and found the market still in full swing, shoppers crowding around each stall, he made no comment, only stepped closer to Logan.

If he was Patton, he might have known what to say to sooth whatever emotion was clouding Romans features. If he was Virgil, he might have made a joke or pointed out an interesting stall  to distract him

As it was..

“So do all Northerners believe in fairy stories or is it just you two?”

“What?”

“The dark fae of the forest? She can’t have been serious.”

Roman straighten up, fixing him with a mock glare “Logan! You’re honestly going to keep pretending you don’t believe in magic? You travel with an elf!”

“Half-elf. And there’s nothing mystical about him.”

“He makes potions Logan!”

“He mixes herbs into useful medicines, it’s no different than any human herbalist.”

“He chants when he does it. And his eyes do that thing.” Roman wiggled his fingers in front of his face, apparently to illustrate ‘that thing’.

“Which I’m sure helps him know how long each concoction needs to stew before adding the next ingredient. You cannot decided a race is magical just because they’ve failed to invent clocks.”

“Urgh!” Roman threw up his hands, “Sometimes you sound like you’re from Arkaze’yed.”

Arkaze’yd was on the western coast. The most industrially advanced of the great cities, they had recently converted the city temple into an extension of the university.

Logan preened. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Roman pulled a face. “You are such a - ooh! Jam tarts!”

He darted away again, but this time Logan couldn’t fault him. A boy was hastily unpacking a crate of what looked like fresh jam tarts onto his masters stall and the scent was delicious

They had to wait for three families ahead of them before they could finally have their turn. Roman picked out four of the tarts and chatted happily with the seller whilst Logan carefully counted out the money.

“I had herd the monthly market of Steveange was something to behold but this! Are you going to go all night?”

“Most likely.” The trader told them happily, “The towns packed for the coronation.”

“Coronation?”

“Princess Stephanie is to become queen,” the man gushed, one hand over his heart in what Logan considered to be an alarming display of emotional royalism. “The guests have been arriving all week.”

Logan nodded absently. That explained the hubbub. The rich went traveling and the poor went to see them. A coronation was a good enough excuse for a festival. If you liked that sort of thing.

“They say,” the trader whispered leaning forward, apparently unbothered by Logan’s total lack of interest in royal gossip, “That even the mad Prince is coming - Remus of Notaleveale!”

“Is that so.” said Logan, monotonously “Here’s your coin.” He turned to Roman to claim his pastry and – stared.

All the colour had drained from Romans face. He gaze was fixed on the trader, his eyes so wide he looked quite wild.

“Roman?” Logan asked, as gently as he could. He realised that Romans hands were shaking the second before the bag of pastries fell from his grip.

“Roman- ROMAN hey-“

Other customers were starting to push between them, Logan bent down quickly to rescue the bag form the floor and reached out to grab his friends hand.

But when he looked up, Roman had gone.

Part three

[bertrumstrousers]

hello my children it is time for

Bad Blood

Chapter II: Still There

Bertrum completed his evening ritual with a final splash of warm water to rinse the soap from his face and a gentle drying off with a neatly folded washcloth. He shook out his hair and used a damp thumb and forefinger to tidy his mustache as he scrutinized his reflection. If he was going to face Mr. Drew in the coming days, he was going to do it presentably.

“Ya ain’t goin’ on a date, Bertrum, what’re you fussing over your appearance for?” Lacie barked from the adjacent bedroom. “C’mon, it’s late.” Her eyes were rolled behind the book she was reading as she awaited him in bed.

With an audible sigh, Bertrum returned to her side. “Elegance starts with proper hygiene, and you know how highly I value elegance.” As he plucked his nightcap from the dresser and sat upon the edge of the bed to put it on, he couldn’t help but quip, “…and that is why you’re here.” Had Lacie been watching, she would have caught sight of a soft smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Listen to yerself bein’ all sappy.” Lacie set her book upon the bedside table as she chuckled. “Cute.”, she murmured as she sank deeper under the duvet.

“I’m not lying, love.” Bertrum laid down beside her and gestured with one hand as though to silently ask, ‘May I hold you?’, to which Lacie nodded in approval. Bertrum responded by wrapping a husky arm around the small of her back and tenderly pulling her over. A quick tug on the lamp’s pull chain allowed comforting darkness to fall over the room.

With one hand resting on Bertrum’s forearm, the other held snug in his large hand and her head tucked neatly under his chin, Lacie asked, out of pure curiosity, “…so what’s we doin’ tomorrow, exactly?”

A sharp tightening of Bertrum’s chest made her regret the query. “Would you prefer the long answer or the short one?”

“Whichever’s gonna upset ya less.”

“They’re both equally infuriating.”

“…aight. In that case, sleep first, be mad later.”

Bertrum agreed with a quiet grunt before giving Lacie a nuzzle and kiss on the neck in lieu of “good night”.

Lacie’s near-silent breathing was the only thing that kept Bertrum grounded in reality. By the time he resigned himself to a sleepless night nearly an hour later, she had buried her face in his nightgown, draped one arm across his stomach and the hand that previously occupied his now empty palm rested at her side. She was clearly at peace beside him.

It made him jealous.

His envy was only tempered by the sudden desire to keep her uninvolved while he settled his score with Joey. This was, after all, his own axe to grind. Bertrum was not about to admit his insecurity to himself, but a nagging thought repeated in his mind.

‘I’m plenty capable of standing up to the man, but I need someone in my corner. Someone to prove that I own what he stole credit for, to back me up when I show him my paten—‘

Startled by the revelation, Bertrum nearly leapt from his bed.

He had proof, and it would save Lacie the trip.

Waking up in the middle of the night was not common for Lacie, and if she did, it meant something was amiss. Bertrum hogging the blankets was her first thought, but that night, when she rolled over to reclaim the pilfered bedding, she found her partner missing.

“…Bertrum?”

Had it not been for his outburst that evening, she wouldn’t have thought much of his disappearance. An occasional midnight snack or pot of tea was not unusual, but he was rarely gone for long.

No noise came from the kitchen. Bertrum was a plenty polite man but he certainly was not a quiet one. Soft humming to himself as he waited for the kettle to boil, clinking utensils as he stirred his tea and the sharp tap of ceramic against ceramic as he raided one of his many biscuit tins were all sounds that were normally present during his nighttime visits to the kitchen, but every one was absent. When a full twenty minutes passed without his return, Lacie grew increasingly concerned, and the silence only made it worse.

She slid off the bed, draped on her bathrobe and went searching for him.

From the study, Bertrum silently and repeatedly thanked Lacie for leaving the crossword on the side table. By chance, the part of it that listed several of the attractions had been on the reverse of the very article that prompted his fit of rage that evening, and as much as the words still made his blood boil, he needed it.

Every ride and every innovation that was mentioned in that scrap of newspaper had a story. Hours upon hours of research, calculations and drafting. Once the technical parts had been perfected, Bertrum bestowed his favorite part, the creative and elaborate embellishments, upon his creations. A massive locked filing cabinet kept the attractions’ stories safe. The documentation that accompanied inventions that took a firm hold in the amusement park industry included their respective patents.

Those were what Bertrum was after.

For nearly half an hour, Bertrum leafed through his filing cabinet, using the article to guide his selections. His prized rides. The side-friction roller coaster, made in collaboration with a late German ride mechanic with whom he’d shared the patent. His inverted steel hairpin coaster; he had never been one for wooden coasters, their frailty did not allow for the wild drops or gravitational forces that had become increasingly popular among younger patrons. After fetching the ones the article contained, Bertrum started pulling papers associated with rides that had become famous. It hadn’t been mentioned in the article, but the strange contraption he’d invented, lovingly called the Whipper-Will-O, had its patent added to the expanding stack in his briefcase. It had always been one of his personal favorites. After all, the more disorienting, the better.

Bertrum had just entered the final stretch of his search when a knock at the door jarred him from his reminiscing and angry brooding. “Bertrum, what the hell’re you doin’ at this hour?!”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“…so yer… packin’.”

“Yes. Go back to bed, love—I’ll be there once I’m done getting these patents together.” Bertrum hadn’t turned his head to acknowledge her at all.

Bertrum had at some point changed from his nightgown to a collared shirt, neat slacks and, though the light of the desk lamp by which he worked was dim, she was pretty sure she could see his suspenders hanging from his waist. Clearly he didn’t intend to return to bed. “Big guy, just…” She sighed. “Come back t’bed. It’s three AM and I ain’t gonna coddle ya if you’re cranky in the morning.”

“Just give me some time.”

An irritated Lacie tucked her finger into the back of his collar and tugged. “You can do this after we hit the bookin’ office.”

Bertrum answered her with a grunt as he slid out of his chair. “Fine, fine.”

Attempting to sleep was more taxing than Bertrum expected. His mind was full of a sick fog that demanded his attention and blocked his path to rest. Too exhausted from fighting it, he let the haze take over.

‘He used to call you in at random. It began innocently enough, just… simple requests. You could handle those, they were nothing new. Clients made them all the time. But those requests turned into demands. Obnoxious demands. You should have listened to Mr. Connor when he warned you that Mr. Drew was unreasonable. You should have known, Bertrum. You should have bloody known.’

‘You could have left. On your own terms. The contract he’d written was a hastily scrawled mess of a page. All it said was that you’d do it, nothing more, and through that inebriated haze you could barely think twice about whether to put down your name… your untarnished name.’

The insecurity made him sick.

‘…No. Stop it. This was not your fault. That sleaze, he… he tricked you. He took advantage of you. You’re a professional, Piedmont. He was not. It showed that day. That day he called you into his office and threw you out.’

‘That memo you sent Joey was supposed to put out any fire that was smoldering between you. He overreacted. All it said was to stop taking and not returning your blueprints. Nothing else. So what if you raised your voice?! He started this! He was in your office after hours. He was mucking about in your proprietary work, and you called him out. You had every right! His firing you over an accusation? That was his fault.’

‘Tomorrow… will be better.’

Bertrum finally was able to talk himself down.

‘You’ll take back your plans by force, if you must. You cannot let Mr. Drew keep what isn’t his, and you certainly cannot let him implement anything more of yours under his own name.’

[usuallyamazinglyaverage]

Side By Side [Ethan x MC]

Hey there, ya lovely people!

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and got to celebrate the season of giving with your family and friends. To end this year properly, I’m back with a bit of writing :)

I’m not gonna lie, the two months before the holidays were really rough and I had to sort so much shit out. It just kept me from most things I love doing in my free time, including talking with my friends and writing. That’s why this one took me a while to finish.

(Nevermind the fact that I rewrote this fic like two times, but that’s a story for another day)

I’ll most likely take a break from OH oneshots for a while (unless inspiration strikes me), but I am still working on stuff, inluding one or two AUs and fics for some other fandoms. I hope a breather to get my muse back on track is alright with you all ;)

I wish you all a safe journey into the next year - let’s pray it’ll be a better one <3

As always, I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes. Please enjoy!

Summary: Big steps in a relationship are always difficult - this one is no exception.

Warnings: Just some light teasing and a bit of language - this is mostly cheesy fluff <3 (I know, I’m surprised as well)

Note: MC of the fic is Annabelle Dawson. I created the header myself, hope it’s pleasing to the eye :) This is set a few months after the end of Book 2.

Taglist:  @perriewinklenerdie @andromedasinclaire @radlovedreamer @amillionmoonsred @hopelessromantic1352 @cordoniaqueensworld @paisleylovergirl  @fangirlingmum @bucket-harrington @lu-ciq @fairyrink @princess-geek @cyb3r-kat​ @whenyourheartskipsabeat @lady-kato @queenof1000days @sunflowergirl05 @jlpplays1 @tacohead13 @the-soot-sprite  @chasingrobbie @padfoot0415 @desiree-0816 @togetherwearerapture @thisperfectmemory @furiouscloddonutpeanut @tabootheunicorn @rookie-ramsey @theroseduelist @drakewalkerfantasy @lapisreviewsstuff @jooous @aworldoffandoms @edgiestwinter @inlovewithrebels @topsyturvy-dream @cerisesayeed-ramsey @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @marywitchjane @adrianrainesworld @zodiacsign1 @silverlitskies @trappedinfandoms @sherlockedmcu @drethanramslay @awhmilkywey @htgawparksandrec @theeccentricbibliophile @mvalentine @desmaranj @schnitzelbutterfingers @colourmeshy @mal-volaris @kaavyaethanramsey @riverrune @honeyandsunfl0wers @humanpokemon @ethandaddyramsey @lilyvalentine @mrsdrakewalkerblog @openheart12 @bellcat2010 @datynasuha  @caseyvalentineramsey @ethxnrxmsey @squishywizardhq @custaroonie @beckaroo @colossalpainintheass @takemyopenheart @justanotherrookie @honeyandsunfl0wers @maurine07  @grandnachoconnoisseur @dr-ramseys-rookie @myusualnerdyself @mrs-raleighcarrera @akshara16 @wingedhairstylemusicweasel​ @alookseeblog​

Song: If You Love Her by Forest Blakk

Ethan tried very hard to not look like he was running – and was failing spectacularly.

Some of his colleagues had to dodge out of his way as he strode through the hallways, white coat fluttering behind him, hands stuffed into the pockets. Slipping into the stairwell, the attending took two steps at a time, reaching the bottom floor quickly.

The atrium was packed, lit by the bright gray sky beyond the ceiling windows - reminding him that he was supposed to be busy in his office right now. Christmas was just around the corner, and after Edenbrook’s reopening, the paperwork had simply piled up, barely giving him time to bring some distance between him and his desk.

He dreaded going back already - but there was something he had to take care of first. Something that felt pivotal for his motivation right now.

Turning his head, Ethan let his eyes wander through the spacious room, from the stairs to the entrance and back again. Finally, he spotted a mess of golden locks, tucked into the usual practical ponytail.

She was with her friends, Trinh and Varma, already dressed in her day-to-day clothes, the strap of her bag slung over one shoulder. The two other women gave her a hug, shooing her along.

Ethan couldn’t help but feel silly when her bell-like, resounding laugh made his heart lurch in his chest, lifting his mood immediately.

Anna turned on her heels with one last wave and headed towards the doors, tucking up her scarf and the lapels of her jacket to ward off the oncoming cold. He waited until her friends went back to their conversation before following her, maneuvering through the crowd and catching up with the younger doctor in the light snowdrift outside.

His hand on her shoulder coaxed a tiny yelp from her, hazel eyes looking up at him with a gratified sort of wonder.

"Ethan? What-"

The older doctor cut Anna off by directing her against the wall framing the entrance, cupping her chin and gently tilting it up for easier access. The kiss was rougher than he would have liked, muscle memory taking over as he nipped on the corner of her mouth.

His former intern, however, didn’t seem to mind, parting her lips with a soft sigh.

Sliding his hands to the back of her jaw, he drew Anna closer, the sugary taste of her dissipating the rest of his stress. He smiled when she grew boneless against him, delicate fingers twirling his tie.

Eventually, they had to come up for oxygen, both drawing away with barely audible hums. Anna’s thoroughly addled expression filled him with an odd pride, her lashes fluttering against her reddened cheeks.

"Is it my birthday?“ she breathed. "Did I accidentally invent the cure for cancer? There must be something I did to deserve this."

"Actually, I just... wanted to wish you a good day," Ethan murmured, tucking a lock behind her ear. "We barely saw each other the past few days. I feel like I can’t catch a break at the moment."

Tenderness seeped into her gaze, liquefying the color to a point where he wanted to drown in it and never come out again.

"Did this help?"

He chuckled. "More than you know."

"Well, feel free to do that anyti-"

"Anna?"

Ethan jumped away from her, whirling around.

This is what you get for leaving your office, a perfidious voice nagged at the very back of his tumbling thoughts.

The tip of his ears flushed hot and he had to force himself to not look away from the woman standing a few feet from them, a grin plastered on her face.

"Hi, gran," Anna offered weakly, pushing herself off the wall. "You, um, you remember Doctor Ramsey?"

Greta Dawson gave them both an impish wink. "Hard to forget this one, right?" She looked between the two for a moment. "You don’t call him 'doctor' usually though, do you? Not that I’m one to judge."

Jesus.

Ethan rubbed the flushed back of his neck, desperately trying to find his dignity among the thick snowflakes swirling from the sky.

He had met Anna’s pint-sized grandmother a little over a year ago, after assisting in an operation that had ultimately saved her life. She was a cheeky, terrifying force of nature, intimidating in a very specific way. Mostly because meeting her had felt substantial – even then. Greta was the only relative Anna had left and as such, the older doctor didn’t want to make a bad impression.

Which he probably just did. Wonderful.

Straightening his shoulders and clearing his throat, he offered his palm. "It’s nice to see you again, Greta." The old woman chortled, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. "Likewise, Doctor Dreamy.“

Next to him, Anna groaned, burying her face against his chest. "Please take me back to work." Despite his still burning ears, Ethan frowned down at her. "Absolutely not. You worked the longest shifts this week." The blonde answered his frown with one of her own. "Traitor."

Her pout was distracting and painfully cute, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the sight. "Go," he urged after a moment of indulgence. "Spend some time with your family.“ The jig was already up, so he leaned down to press another gentle kiss to her lips, this one far more modest than he would have liked. "I’ll see you on Monday."

"I have a better idea," Greta interrupted cheerfully, twiddling her fingers at the two doctors. "How about you join our dinner tomorrow?" Opening and closing her mouth, Anna glanced at Ethan while shuffling her feet. "I mean I... I like that thought. We're making lasagna?"

There was that coyness of hers again, making him wonder if she really didn’t know how utterly charming she was – and that there were very few things that he wouldn't do for her.

"I like that thought too,“ he said, his voice quiet but certain, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze.  “Call me when you get home?“

"I will." Anna brushed her thumb along his scruffy jaw, smiling hesitantly.

"Have fun, Rookie." His blues flicked over to her grandmother, who was watching their exchange with obvious curiosity. "And, ah, you too, Greta."

The old woman winked once again. "We’ll see you tomorrow, Ethan."

“Damn.”

Anna stared into the mirror, grimacing at the smudge of mascara, just below her left eye. Sighing, she slipped the tiny brush back into the silver tube, exchanging it for q-tip to correct the mistake.

Her fingers were still shaky.

Wiping the black from her skin, she tried not to think about the man waiting for her in the kitchen – a hard thing to do when there were reminders of him all around her.

Her toothbrush rested next to his in a tall cup on the spacious sink.

Her towel occupied a shelf next to the shower.

His cologne and her perfume both permeated the air.

Reminders of him – reminders of them. All things she never would have thought possible half a year ago. Usually, the sight of shared commitment was a beautiful, giddiness-inducing facet of their relationship for her. Tonight, she couldn't help but wonder if Ethan was feeling smothered by it all.

Dinner with her grandmother was a step Anna hadn't even considered until she had caught them red-handed yesterday. Greta knew about Ethan, knew about the chaotic circumstances that had brought them together at last, but she had never expressed the wish to meet him in an official capacity.

Just one of the many firsts that he had been a part of.

Taking a deep breath, the young doctor tossed the q-tip into the trash bin, smoothing her hands along the burgundy fabric of her casual dress and her black tights – a last effort to calm herself.

The hallway outside of the bathroom was much cooler, making Anna shiver as she made her way to the kitchen.

Ethan was leaning against the island, his crisp white oxford peeking through his unbuttoned coat. Tapping away on his phone, he uncrossed his legs, dark slacks rustling quietly. He looked a little bit unreal in the dim light. An apparition, summoned by the farthest reaches of her mind.

“You're staring,” he informed her, finally looking up and interrupting her ogling.

Anna tried her hardest not to appear embarrassed, but her traitorous face heated at the comment anyway.

“You look nice,” she muttered, casting her gaze to the ceiling for a moment before meeting his once again.

Ethan chuckled, pushing himself off the island and crossing the distance between them. “You just stole my line.” His eyes swept over the dress, the blue heavy and eager. “Though 'nice' seems very much insufficient.” Stopping a few inches away from her, he pressed a lingering kiss to Anna's cheekbone. “You're stunning.”

The warmth in his voice broke her heart just a little. Anna wrapped her arms around his waist, letting his scent wash over her. Ethan stilled, one of his hands finding the back of her neck and weaving through the loose golden curls there. He didn't say anything right away, granting this moment of respite.

“You're nervous, aren't you.”

Perceptive as ever.

She released a long breath and traced the pattern of his coat. “Not because of the dinner itself.” Lifting her head, she studied his face before pressing on. “I'm just wondering if you're alright. We've really picked up the pace.”

Surprised, Ethan raised his brows. “Are you asking me if I have cold feet?”

“I... suppose I am.”

“Anna.” There was a note of gentle admonishment in his voice, urging her to listen. “You're here every second weekend. Yesterday, I practically begged you to come over, because we're barely seeing each other at work. Does that sound like I'm questioning my decision to be with you?” His lips brushed her temple. “I'll admit that your grandmother terrifies me. But that doesn't mean I don't want to get to know her better.”

“Well, now I feel silly,” she murmured sheepishly.

Ethan huffed out a soft laugh, tickling the shell of her ear. “Maybe I like that about you.” He pulled away, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You and your busy brain.” Lacing their fingers for a brief moment, he nodded his head towards the door. “Ready to go?”

“As ready as I'll ever be,” Anna sighed, letting him help her put on her jacket and lead her out of the apartment.

The drive to her grandmother's place felt far too short.

Her leg wiggled every time they passed another green light, forcing Ethan to rest his palm on it to soothe her. He did so wordlessly, keeping it there until he shut off the motor and offering it to her when they walked up the stairs to the second floor of the apartment complex. She took it, ever grateful for his quiet support.

The blonde fumbled with her set of keys when they reached the door, almost dropping them when it opened on it's own, revealing a her apron-clad grandmother.

“Gran,” she chastised, letting the old woman pull her into a hug. “Were you waiting by the door?”

“Nonsense, dear,” Greta sniffed, rubbing her back with a little too much enthusiasm.

Anna could practically hear the lie in her affronted tone, masking her pained sigh with a small cough. “Right. A preposterous notion.”

“Just as preposterous as denying me this view for past few months.” Her grandmother gestured over to Ethan, who had watched their exchange with a subdued smile. “The women in our family did always have an eye for the finer things in life, I must say,” she mused. “Come in, you two.”

Anna couldn't help but swallow as she watched Ethan hang up his coat and enter her childhood home. The furniture, the décor and even the comforting smell of chamomile and laundry detergent was the same, reminding her of days past.

With him in the middle of it all, it felt like two separate dimensions colliding and forming something she couldn't quite name. He looked both out of place and like he belonged as they followed Greta into the kitchen.

Handing her grandmother the expensive bottle of Château Monbrison the young doctor had chosen from his wine stash a few hours ago, Ethan rubbed the side of neck. “Anna told me this is your favorite. Thank you again for the invitation.”

Greta regarded him with amusement. “That's a very sweet gesture, Ethan. Tell me, how good is your cooking?”

“I -” At a loss for words, he looked over at Anna.

“He's great,” she affirmed hastily, flushing at her choice of defense. “I mean his cooking. It's great. Very good.”

“Wonderful. How about you help me prepare the rest of the lasagna then, my boy?” Her grandmother patted Anna's shoulder. “Could you be a dear and set the table? I've already left the plates in the dining room.”

“But-”

“Snowbell.” Greta brushed a lock out of her granddaughters face. “Don't worry. You'll get him back without even one hair out of place.”

On her way out of the kitchen, Anna caught Ethan's gaze, the two doctors exchanging a small, equally nervous smile before they were separated.

In the quiet of the dining room, the blonde took a shaky breath, trying to sort her thoughts as she moved plates, glasses and silverware around.

She should have expected this.

Anna trusted and loved her grandmother, dearly, but she could be a bit much at times. Then again, she had never taken such an interest in any of her partners. In Canada, she had been too far away to truly introduce her first long-term boyfriend and once she had finally returned to Boston, the relationship was already over.

And Michael – well. Nothing good had come of being with him.

Ethan was the most complicated man she had ever met by far – but he was her future. The thought strengthened every day she spend with him, every time she looked into his eyes and every time he held her close.

It was far too soon to tell him, however.

And that was exactly why she was nervous about the prospect of her Greta and Ethan alone together.

“You've been holding that fork for quite a while now.”

Startled out of her musings, Anna turned around, almost stumbling into the older doctor. He caught her by the elbows, gently prying the silverware from her fingers and setting it down.

“You're done already?” she wondered, blinking at him.

Ethan chuckled. “It's been a little over ten minutes. Lost in thought again?”

“...Can you blame me?”

“No,” he admitted. “But it wasn't as bad as you probably imagined. You're supposed to show me your room, by the way. Something about it being the prelude to embarrassing baby pictures.”

The blonde groaned, hooking her arm around his and pulling him back into the hallway. “Fine. But you better be gentle. It hasn't been renovated since I was sixteen.”

“I thought you liked it when I'm not gentle,” Ethan teased, earning himself a smack to his chest when they entered the room on the far end.

Closing the battered wood behind them, Anna watched nervously as he moved to the middle of the room, his height dwarfing the old furniture to ridiculous proportions.

His gaze wandered over the walls, the faded teal plastered over by posters and photographs. Taking a few steps closer to the scratched up vanity next to her bed, the older doctor plucked a picture from the frame of the mirror.

She fought to urge to take it from him, mashing her lips together.

Her twenty-year-old self in this particular photo looked like a textbook nerd, much shorter locks braided into two pigtails and clutching her acceptance letter for Boston's med school, while she and Greta grinned at the camera.

Ethan reattached the picture with another chuckle. Then, his gaze fell on her nightstand - and on the book sitting on it.

More specifically, his book.

The unassuming cover was well worn, some of the pages dog-eared. Picking it up, he thumbed through it, raising a brow at Anna.

"What?" she asked a bit too forcefully, cheeks burning.

His mouth twitched, eventually losing the fight against the complacent expression overtaking his features.

"Someone’s a fan," he hummed. "Want to me to sign this one too?"

"That depends," the blonde huffed, crossing her arms. "Do I need to undertake another ridiculous task before you do it?“

Grinning, Ethan tossed the book back and crooked a finger at her. "How about you come over here and kiss me, Rookie? You can decide after if that’s asking too much."

"You’re ridiculous," she murmured, walking up to him hesitantly and slipping her hands around his neck with a pout. Something utterly triumphant twinkled in his deep blues as he craned his head down, meeting her in the middle.

The kiss was soft, slow and warm, tasting faintly of toothpaste. Ethan wrapped his arms around Anna’s waist, lifting her from her tiptoes and setting her down on the bed, his lips never leaving hers.

There was a comfort in his body covering her own, the pleasant buzz of it all coaxing a faint moan from her throat.

Eventually, they had to come up for air, Ethan’s nose nuzzling her cheek.

"You know, you're the first guy to make out with me on this bed," she said thoughtfully and brushed her knuckles over his jaw, enjoying the texture of his beard against her skin.

The attending pushed himself onto one elbow, his free fingers mapping the curve of her hip. "I'm not sure how much more information my ego can take. I'm this close to begging for mercy."

"Oh my god." Anna pulled him back to her by his hair, their laughter mingling until they were breathless once more.

Eventually, Ethan rolled off to the side, facing the younger doctor on the mattress. It was oddly soothing, having him share the tiny bed with her. A peaceful little bubble, after the start of what was bound to be an eventful afternoon.

It gave her courage to ask the question sitting at the forefront of her mind.

“What did you and my grandmother talk about?”

Ethan's jaw tensed for a brief second, his palm lifting to find her face.

“She told me about the state you were in the week after I had left for the Amazon.” His calloused thumb drew a half circle. “And to be more careful with your heart this time around.”

“Or she'll put you six-feet-under?” Anna questioned weakly.

“No.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “No, she asked me while offering me a glass of wine. She's just worried, princess. And she has every right to be.”

“Ethan...”

“I can't ever take back what I did, Anna,” he sighed. “We both know that. You forgive me so easily every time I mess up and I shouldn't take it for granted. Even your endless patience will run out eventually.”

“You're worth it. You always were.”

Hazel and blue connected, both achingly soft.

“So are you.”

Unspoken words, unspoken emotions, enriched by the dim light falling through pale curtains, drowning the space in silence and contentment.

“Should we get back?” Anna murmured, careful not to disturb the tender moment with her voice. “My grandmother is probably waiting for us.”

“In a minute.” Forehead tipping down to meet hers, Ethan dragged her close, breathing her in. “In a minute, sweetheart.”

A/N: So cheesy. Was a lot of fun to write though :3

[hacash]

Too Much Information

"I always imagined Big Folk’d be rather prudish about sex,” Pippin said. “After all, I imagined none of you do it very often, taking into account your obvious shortcomings.”

The Fellowship share. Rather too much. In which Gandalf is cagey, Merry and Pippin are shameless, and Boromir finds out more about the Fellowship's personal lives than he wanted to know.

[also available on Archive of our Own]

(based on this post; probably not to be taken too seriously)

-

“Posey Greenfields does not count.”

“Does so.”

“Does not.”

“How, may I ask, does she not count?”

“I saw you at that party, Pip, and you were soused off your face. Utterly crocked. I should say she took advantage of you, more than anything.”

“Took advantage? I was giving her the advantage, and very willingly too!”

Boromir eyed the bickering cousins with more trepidation than he might an orc’s nest. Trust me, Elrond had advised the day he’d arrived in Imlradris, you might hear them talking and think you wish to know the conversation. In these moments it is best to turn around and walk the other way.

Delicately he coughed, meeting Legolas’ eye. “Do I want to know?”

The elf grimaced. Owing to his renowned elvish hearing it seemed he had caught every word: but going by Legolas’ disturbed expression Boromir suspected this wasn’t necessarily a good thing. “No. No you don’t.”

Recklessly Boromir plunged on, approaching where Merry and Pippin were setting up their bedding for the night. “Gentlemen?”

Two twin beady gazes turned on him.

“Context, please?”

Ignoring Legolas’ muffled groan and face-palm Merry turned about cheerfully, eager for a new participant – or, as Boromir was beginning to suspect, victim. “Ah, yes! You see, to kill time Pippin and I were discussing some of our more pleasant encounters back home when life was simpler and remembering some of our most enjoyable companions – ”

“Sex stories,” Boromir repeated with dawning understanding, unable to keep the horror from his voice. “You were swapping sex stories.”

“Exactly! Only Pippin insisted on counting one time with Posey Greenfields when he’d gotten into his father’s best sherry – Michel Delving’s finest, it’ll turn you cross-eyed – and I was telling him that didn’t count because he was in no fit state to make a decent showing.”

Pippin was looking so proud of himself, it was almost indecent.

“But…I thought you were a child?” Boromir demanded.

“Excuse me? I’m a tweenager.”

“You’re a deviant is what you are, Pippin,” Merry said.

“I’m an unfettered adventurous soul, lacking in fear.”

“Lacking something is certainly the way Mrs Goodchild described you when she caught you and her Iris at it in the barn that time. Your breeches, for a start.”

“You’re not of age, is what I meant,” Boromir interrupted, before his brain started producing images his stomach couldn’t handle.

“Hobbits often start courting far before they’re of age, sir.” Taking pity on the unfortunate Man, Sam approached with cups of stewed nettle tea. “It’s common enough to start when you’re about sixteen, seventeen years old. Of course, it’s less common to wed before we’re of age – ”

“Thirty-three!” Boromir exclaimed proudly.

“Yes, sir, very well done,” Sam said in a soothing tone. “Which gives any courting couple a nice long while to get to know one another proper. Of course, there’s those as might not wish to wait that long – ” Merry did the universal sign for a swollen belly behind Sam’s back, “but to have your son or daughter wed afore they’ve passed twenty five – well, it’s considered a bit tacky, if you get my drift? Not allowing them a proper chance at life afore they settle down.”

“And by ‘proper chance of life’ we mean…”

“Studying a trade, spending time with friends, practicing how to keep house – ”

“Or in Merry’s case: learning how to do it in a rowboat without capsizing,” Pippin interjected.

“Ah, discussing Salvia Chubb, I believe? As I recall you told your mother you’d caught a fish so large it had pulled you clean from the boat, and that was why you were soaked through and Salvia’s shimmy all tangled up in duckweed.”

Boromir nearly inhaled a mouthful of his wine at Frodo’s sudden appearance. He might have imagined that the last thing the two younger hobbits would want when discussing their depravity was the audience of their elder cousin, but Frodo just regarded the conversation with exasperated amusement.

“You shouldn’t listen to these two, Boromir,” the Ringbearer advised. “They’ll blister your ears off and then some with their sordid tales. My uncle Saradoc would have been at his wits’ end with Merry, save that half his tricks Merry likely learned from him.”

“Hey now!” cried Merry. “I won’t have such slander repeated before friends. There was a time when Frodo Baggins was considered quite the rascal of Buckland, Boromir, and don’t you forget it. If I have ever engaged in pranks, scandal, inebriation or debauchery, chances are I learned it from him!”

“Debauchery!”

“Downright,” Merry repeated, “debauchery.”

Frodo drew himself up to his full height and glared at his unrepentant cousin through narrowed eyes. “I admit to overindulging on Uncle Sara’s port or filching a basket of mushrooms on occasion, Meriadoc, but I object to the implication that I have ever debauched in my life.”

Sam and Pippin’s gazes flickered back and forth between the other two as if watching a game of chequers; Boromir’s cooling nettle tea was abandoned at his feet. Even Legolas was listening intently. Merry merely snorted, leaning back on his haunches as if to prepare for the master stroke. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Cousin, you remember when you left for Bag End I got your old room?”

“I do,” Frodo said stiffly, “and I fail to see the relevance.”

“Well, what you may not recall is you left plenty of odds and ends behind – mathoms mostly, old clothing and books and whathaveyou, and I found some rather interesting articles under your bed from your last years in Buckland. Some rather interesting journals, as it turns out.”

Seated beside Frodo, Legolas was lucky enough to get a good look at the Ringbearer’s face as the significance of this news dawned upon him. It was quite a spectacle, he had to admit. He’d never actually seen someone turn white before.

“You didn’t.”

Merry smirked. “It ended up proving quite an education when I was a tween, I must say.”

“…journals?” Boromir asked weakly.

“I forgot to mention: Melilot Brandybuck asked me to pass on her fondest and immense well wishes,” Merry continued wickedly, “for a couple of descriptive passages found in a particular entry – Wedmath, 1388, I believe? She was most appreciative, and I told her that the credit truly lay with you.”

Frodo’s face had bypassed white and was rapidly approaching green. “You didn’t.”

“Journals?” Pippin demanded. “What journals? Why haven’t I heard of any journals? You were courting Melilot at least ten years ago, why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Brandybuck?” Boromir asked. “But I thought Merry was – ”

“Third cousins,” Sam said wearily. “And if you let yourself get distracted by such matters, sir, you’ll never catch up.”

“And what descriptive passages could have Melilot Brandybuck still expressing her gratitude after ten years?”

“Oh, and Rory Goldworthy. Though I had to adapt some of the passages for Rory.”

“So what you’re saying is, half of Buckland knows Master Merry’s more – uh – adventurous activities can be put down to my master’s influence?” Sam said with a growing grin.

“And when were you planning on showing me these journals?”

“Meriadoc,” Frodo said slowly, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you.”

“You should all know, our cousin Frodo is a most meticulous and,” Merry smirked, “inventive writer in all respects. I only hope he provides the additions to Bilbo’s book with the same attention to detail!”

Frodo’s reaction was not a happy one. With an uncharacteristically warlike yell he hurled himself at his cousin, fists flying. Although Merry was by far the sturdier of the two, Frodo’s height and indignation found the two evenly matched, and the pair were soon scuffling haplessly in Merry’s bedding. Sam rolled his eyes, and Pippin cheered.

“Well then, lads.” Gimli’s voice was gruff as he approached. He had been discussing their route south along the Misty Mountains with Gandalf and Aragorn, and now the three of them eyed the ensuing chaos with amusement. “What are we discussing?”

“Sex,” Pippin piped up cheerfully.

Legolas was pinching the bridge of his nose: the mumbled comments of ‘raspberry jam and the garden swing’ made Sam fairly certain he had picked up most of Merry and Pippin’s early conversation, and also fairly certain that he didn’t want to know more. Gimli gave a low chuckle, Aragorn raised an eyebrow, and Gandalf shook his head and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘smut-minded hole-dwellers’.

“You started this?” Gimli asked Boromir.

“I asked for context.”

“Well, it’s your own damn fault then.”

“I’m fully aware of that,” Boromir said. “I may never be able to look Merry and Pippin in the eye ever again.”

“He’s embarrassed,” Sam supplied helpfully.

Boromir raised an eyebrow. He was not embarrassed by sex – he was forty years old, thank you very much, and a soldier to boot: quite accustomed to bawdy humour. He knew all the words to ‘The Istari and the Ninety-Nine Virgins’ and had laughed himself sick over every variation of the one about the widow’s lodging house on many occasions. But the thought of these hobbits, small as children, and the Ringbearer by all accounts…

“That’s rather rude,” Merry grumbled when he told them this. “You don’t see us saying ‘urgh, imagine those Men going at it when they’re so freakishly big and ancient looking’, do you?”

“Thank you very much,” Aragorn remarked dryly.

Legolas rolled his eyes. “After spending many days in the company of soldiers from Dale I rather thought all Men to be rather fixated on the subject.”

“Really? I always imagined Big Folk’d be rather prudish about sex,” Pippin said. “After all, I imagined none of you do it very often, taking into account your obvious shortcomings.”

There came from Aragorn the sounds of spluttering and rapid smoke inhalation; it appeared he’d lit his pipe at an inopportune moment. “I…I beg your pardon?!”

“Well, look at the size of you. I can imagine you might not be – well, no offence, but not wholly up to scratch.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Frodo steepled his fingers thoughtfully and fixed both Aragorn and Boromir with a calculating gaze that seemed to them a bit too intrigued to be decent. “Well, be fair Pippin. I can imagine size might be beneficial.”

“Maybe a bit.”

“A bit?” chorused the two Men. Gimli snorted.

“But, well, you’re all so big and clumsy,” Pippin, oblivious in the face of rapidly approaching death, continued blithely. “No dexterity. No lightness of touch. No imagination. And just like in everything else, if you think only size matters you’re not going to put too much thought into it, are you?”

Aragorn had gone a distinctly red shade. From across the fire Sam was could see Gandalf’s shoulders shaking with mirth.

“Is Aragorn alright?” Merry asked.

“Ignore him,” Gimli said, “he’s just reconsidering certain aspects of his romantic life for the past seventy years.”

“Bugger off.”

“Well, we’re not prudish,” Boromir said hastily – Gondor might have needed no king, but abandoning Aragorn to this particular line of questioning seemed like a step too far. “We just don’t feel the need to talk about it all the time.”

“We don’t all the time,” Pippin said. “Just in general conversation.”

“Do the women in your homeland not consider such conversation uncouth?” Legolas asked in bewilderment.

Sam snorted. “You want uncouth, sir, you should see young Myrtle Twofoot when she’s got into the summer punch. Three glasses and she’s inviting any lad in sight to untie her bloomer lacings with her teeth, and that’s a fact.”

“Good heavens,” said Boromir, looking rather pale.

“Oh, she always has the lad clean their teeth first, so as to keep everything hygienic sir. Very conscientious is young Myrtle.”

“So, unlike the rest of civilised society,” Legolas concluded, “hobbits would think nothing of taking their afternoon tea, or whatever you strange creatures call it, while listening to Merry regale them all with tales of – ”

“Being snowed in at Bag End with the Goodbody twins, a sturdy settee and the last of Mister Bilbo’s Old Winyards,” Sam supplied helpfully. “I remember your mother raising hell for that one when word got out, Mister Merry.”

Merry somehow managed to smirk and blush at the same time.

“Oh, honestly.” Aragorn looked particularly unsettled. “We don’t all need to hear about Merry’s…proclivities.”

“Well, you’re just a prude,” Merry sniffed.

“No, I’m just not interested in hearing about it.”

“Merry, leave him alone,” Frodo said. “I was in the room next to yours on that particular night, you may remember, and I took as little joy from hearing it then as Aragorn is now.”

Merry pulled a face.

“And to answer your question, Legolas: Merry is, as usual, grossly misrepresenting the Shire in his smut and yes you may well blush, Meriadoc – it’s hardly the sort of thing we discuss over tea and cakes on every occasion. However, I wouldn’t exactly call the subject taboo.”

“Hobbits,” Gandalf chuckled, “as in all respects, enjoy the comforts of life most openly. Why, I could tell tales of Bullroarer Took that might make your hair turn on end!”

“Any tips to pass on?” Pippin asked.

“None for your ears, young hobbit.”

“I’m surprised you’re so bashful, Aragorn,” Merry said. “I’d have thought you very experienced in that regard.”

“What? Why would I be?” Aragorn asked, genuinely baffled.

“Have you seen you?”

“I suppose I had offers – a few – ” Behind his back Legolas snorted and then hastily turned it into a cough, “but there was only ever Arwen.”

“So you’re only interested in girls,” Pippin said.

“No, I’m only interested in Arwen.”

“But what if a really beautiful woman offered – ”

“She did. Her name was Arwen.”

“I think it’s romantic,” said Sam.

“I think it’s idiotic,” Merry argued. “All of that,” he gestured to the ranger, who began blushing from the appraising stares coming from the rest of the Fellowship, “going to waste on just one lass. It’s not natural.”

“Meriadoc Brandybuck!” Frodo barked suddenly. “Apologise, young hobbit. You’re being very disrespectful of other folks’ habits. We can’t all manage to be such tramps as you.”

“Maybe we should change the subject,” Gandalf said dryly. “This has all been gone into quite enough.”

“Like Melilot Brandybuck, apparently,” Pippin remarked.

“Peregrin!”

“And,” Boromir continued, suicidally avoiding the glare being levelled at him by Gandalf, “lads going with lads: that is not uncommon, in your home?”

“Why not?” Pippin asked, genuinely surprised. “I wouldn’t have known how to so much as kiss if it weren’t for good old Folco Boffin.”

“What of Gondor, Boromir?” Legolas asked.

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “It is not considered shameful. But neither is it wholly approved of, in the higher houses of Gondor, for one man to make a life pledge with another. The noble families consider their heritage to be of great worth, and to forgo the chance of heirs and carrying on the line simply for the sake of affection is not always smiled upon.”

“Giving up your chance of love with some nice lad just to carry on some family name?” Sam said sadly. “Well, that’s right sad, that is.”

“I suppose,” said Boromir. Having understood that he was expected to carry on the line of Stewards since he was a child, he had never thought about it until now. “Of course, in a family with many sons or male cousins, it is less of a scandal. And out in the country or in the garrisons, of course, no-one pays it much mind.”

“Much the same as in the North,” Aragorn, who had now recovered, added. “Though within the Rangers, of course, men with men is more common. Less women, you see.”

“Well, it’s common enough in the Shire,” Merry said carelessly. “Pippin had quite the crush on Aragorn when we first met him in Bree.”

“Hoy!”

“Seeing you and Arwen together must have been like hitting puberty all over again,” Merry said with a snort.

This time it was Pippin who launched himself at Merry; while Aragorn mutely examined himself with the very real concern that he was giving off some sort of wrong signal.

“Don’t worry, Aragorn,” Frodo said soothingly. “After you made us march ten miles in the pouring rain, I suspect Pippin’s ardour wore off some.”

Pippin resurfaced long enough to flash Aragorn a cheeky grin that did not particularly set his mind at ease. “Indeed. And unlike Merry, I don’t feel the need to be bossed around by any of my romantic partners – oof!”

“Well, there’s a revelation I did not particularly need to hear,” Gimli muttered as the two cousins began wrestling again.

“Goes all red whenever Estella Bolger shoots him a sharp word, he does – argh!”

“I still can’t believe how open hobbits are,” Boromir muttered.

“Some of us’ve got a bit more class than the young masters,” Sam said, “begging their pardons.”

“Some of us’re just too shy for their own good.” Pippin, panting, had resurfaced. “When we return to the Shire I’m going to lock you and the lovely Rosie into the cellars of Crickhollow and not let you out until the windows shatter.”

“Master Pippin!”

“Sam, please tell me you don’t go around debauching with all and sundry like the rest of these rakes,” Legolas said.

“Oh, Sam plays his cards close to the chest,” said Merry with an admiring smirk. “He might still be a virgin or might have serviced every lass in the greater Westfarthing area; we’d never know.”

“I have not serviced every lass in the Westfarthing, Mister Merry.”

“Every lad then.”

“Now why would I be doing that, Mr Merry? I don’t know every lad in the Westfarthing!”

“That’s something you take into consideration?”

“Yes!” Sam exclaimed. Merry just looked bemused.

“If Sam is more selective than you, Merry, that’s hardly something to mock,” Frodo said disapprovingly.

“Who said I was mocking? I admire you, Sam, but honestly you were too bloody blind by half to realise what it was like back home. Scores of tweenagers hanging around Bag End garden just waiting for the weather to warm so you’d so much as roll up your sleeves.”

While Pippin fell about laughing and the rest of the Fellowship chuckled, Sam turned a horrified shade of red. “That…that never happened!”

“Why do you think Frodo had so many cousins from Buckland and Tookborough come to stay? Not for his sparkling conversation, surely; there’s only so long you can feign an interest in elvish poetry.”

“Sam,” Frodo said patiently, “one summer we had half the Shire stopping in at Bag End asking you for gardening tips. Did you honestly think Milo Chubb was that interested in keeping the greenfly off his begonias?”

“You knew about this, sir?”

“Knew? I was considering selling tickets.”

Sam’s head fell into his hands.

“Your courtship rituals are certainly…unlike anything I have experienced,” Gimli chuckled drolly. “Whatever happened to a finely-wrought ring or a poem in honour of your loved one?”

“I’ve had good luck with a bottle of sherry and a broom cupboard,” Merry said.

“Typically affection is expressed in our culture with flowers, dancing, and fine manners,” Frodo smirked, “though Merry and Pippin have always seen fit to buck with tradition. Naughty limericks and drunk come-ons are not acceptable.”

“They’re not?” This was news to Merry.

“They were considered terrible flirts back home.”

“Ah yes,” Pippin reminisced dreamily, “I remember the day Diamond North-Took called me a depraved, unconscionable back-alley scoundrel without the morals of a tom-cat.”

“I know, because you do have the morals of a tom-cat.”

“And I told her that, but do you think she’d listen?”

“Folk are expected to calm down as they leave their tweens behind, but as long as no lass gets into trouble or no-one’s tumbling with someone thought to be courting someone else…” Frodo gave a nimble shrug, lips twitching with the fond memories of days long since past. The rest of the Fellowship almost felt like they were intruding. “I myself used to…but then, I don’t know, my interest rather waned over the years…”

“Lost your puff, more like,” Merry scoffed. Without looking up Frodo kicked him in the kneecaps.

“The desire faded,” he said firmly. “Lovely memories and a fine time in my life – but I don’t see anything lacking now it’s over, either.”

Boromir was fascinated. He’d never imagined that one could talk so frankly about desire – or, for that matter, shrug off the lack of it as nothing more than the disappearance of a well-loved but outgrown coat. “I never saw the appeal,” he remarked, “on any account. Good luck to you all if you so choose to take your pleasures in such a fashion, but – honestly, it seems quite the overblown fuss to me. I can think of half a dozen things I’d prefer doing to sex, just off the top of my head.”

“No tales of debauchery from you then?” Merry asked sadly.

“Unlike our esteemed Ringbearer,” Boromir bowed to the blushing Frodo, “I have never debauched. I’m not sure I’d know where to begin.”

The hobbits shrugged carelessly. “Oh, there’s plenty in our homeland who are much the same,” Pippin said. “Cousin Bilbo’s a hundred and twenty-nine if he’s a day, and I don’t think he’s thought on sex once in all that time.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Oh, come off it. I’d have heard if Bilbo had some lost lady-love in the Shire, mark my words.”

“I said nothing about romance. I just said your assumptions that Bilbo was never interested in sex are inaccurate,” Frodo said, a rather haunted look on his face.

“What, and he told you that, did he?”

“I didn’t need to be told, Peregrin; the arrangements he had with the Widow Moley rather spoke for themselves.”

For a moment there was a distinct choking sound. Sam was very carefully examining the ground beneath his feet while Merry had stuffed his fist into his mouth, shaking with barely contained glee. The rest of the Fellowship exchanged glances. Pippin’s mouth had slowly fallen open: as Frodo continued to look pointedly at him he began to feel much the same way as one might when one bites into an apple and sees half a grub wriggling merrily away at him.

“Bilbo had companionship in his golden years?” Aragorn said in a somewhat strained voice. “That’s…that’s nice.”

“Every Sunday after tea,” Frodo said with the hollow tones more suited to an old soldier recounting the horrors of battles long since past, “and every Trewsday before luncheon; round to Bag End she’d come, regular as clockwork for nearly ten years. Why do you think I asked your mother for earmuffs every Yule?”

“But,” Boromir said, “I thought you told me you were only adopted by Bilbo when he was in his eighties?”

“That I did.”

Pippin finally made a sound, and that sound was: “Eeuargh…..”

“Well now, here we see again the difference in the races. For an elf to be in such a steady relationship at a mere eighty years of age would be considered rash indeed,” Legolas snickered, with the air of one stirring the pot with gleeful abandon.

“Cousin Bilbo is not an elf.”

“Quite,” Frodo said tartly. “Elves are beauteous creatures to behold, and walking in on him and the Widow Moley was not, repeat not, beauteous.”

Pippin made another strangled sound.

“Gimli,” Aragorn said hastily: the thought of old Bilbo, who he had long regarded as akin to a kindly old uncle, getting up to things was not sitting well, “care to add to the conversation?”

Gimli chuckled. “Alas, we are not quite as rambunctious as hobbits.” He leant back and puffed on his pipe. “In truth, romance is rare in my culture – admired well enough, but not prized highly, and many of my people never marry at all. Many do not desire it, being so engrossed in their crafts. There are dwarven songs of great loves and terrible loss that could put even an elvish lay to shame,” Legolas twitched, “but it is beauteous rare. What is romance compared to the joy of your work, the stonecraft and metalwork that outlasts the ages, the artistry of one’s hands?”

Pippin opened his mouth to say something about drilling, tunnelling and chisels, but was stopped when Sam, without any apparent change in his expression, took hold of his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back.

“Though Bilbo told me you were considered quite the catch in Erebor?” Frodo prompted.

Gimli shrugged off the complement modestly. “Dwarves who are so inclined towards affairs of the heart – and body – are rare, and so seen as something of a prize. And I flatter myself that I am no poor craftsman; no dwarf or dwarrowdam would scorn one who knows how to wield a hammer.”

“Pippin, shut up,” Boromir said hastily.

“So, you mean – women with women and men with – ”

“Dwarves with dwarves,” Gimli said firmly. He shrugged, and then gave a great booming laugh, smacking his hands down upon his knees. “Though we are a people of great enthusiasms in all respects. Those dwarves who do wed tend to have very successful – and very enjoyable – marriages. Dwarves may not have much interest in affairs of the bed, but when we do it we do it right.”

“Remind me to take a trip to the Blue Mountains when all this is over,” Merry muttered to Pippin with a lecherous grin.

“I don’t think you could handle it.”

“I could.”

“The size difference could be a problem.”

“I could cope with that.”

“The beards would itch.”

Merry paused, then nodded. “Fair point.”

Meanwhile Gimli was eyeing Legolas with wry amusement. “And I suppose your lot have their minds on higher things?”

Legolas scoffed. “Where do you think our children came from?”

“Be fair, sir,” said Sam. “After hearing all those great tales, you start to think elves are a little too dignified for matters such as that.”

“Thingol and Melian,” Frodo chipped in, “Beren and Luthien, Earendil and Elwing. Sam’s right, it’s difficult to imagine them all shagging.”

“Do you mind?” Aragorn asked, turning queasy. Most of these were his potential in-laws.

“Elves are always attracted to beauty,” Legolas’ brow raised, “of any and all kinds. But I can’t deny, compared to us mortals are more – ”

“Randy?” Pippin said.

“Horny?” Merry added.

“Lecherous goats?” Sam asked with a grin.

“Those weren’t quite the synonyms I was grasping for, but essentially yes.”

“Though to be fair,” Aragorn chipped in, “when you say beauty of any and all kinds, be careful not to misrepresent, Legolas. I recall you told me that your father had much to say when as a fauntling your admiration of the Lord Elrond grew a little too obvious to be overlooked.”

“Because he was a fellow?” Merry asked sympathetically.

“Because he is half-elven!” Legolas exclaimed. “Sweet Elbereth, I thought my father would never let it go.”

“Nice to know even elves have their hang-ups,” Sam said.

“But we remain more higher-minded about such things than mortals,” Legolas said.

“Not judging by some of those books of elven art in Lord Elrond’s library.”

“Books?” Merry perked up noticeably.

“Oh,” Gimli snorted, “if it’s art it doesn’t count.”

“I don’t care how many plinths and urns they include, I still use the term art advisedly.”

“What books? Why weren’t they shared?”

“Maybe Frodo’s journals would find a place there,” Legolas said with a smirk. Frodo groaned again.

“Well, this has been most informative,” Aragorn said. “If we get attacked by a marauding band of orcs in the middle of the night it’s pleasant to think we’ll at least have Frodo and Boromir to defend us, for it seems half this Fellowship will be too randy to even think of our defence. I think that clears up every culture represented here, does it not?”

They paused, mulling it over. Then Frodo said, in a particularly thoughtful tone: “Well, not quite every culture…”

As one – warily, and as if drawn by unspeakable horror – the Fellowship turned to look at Gandalf, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout this debate. He puffed contentedly on his pipe and simply looked back at them with eyebrow raised, daring them to ask.

Pippin opened his mouth eagerly, and then without preamble was punched right in the stomach by Merry.

Later, when they were all asleep and Legolas had taken the first watch, Pippin rolled onto his back and sighed thoughtfully. “I wish we hadn’t gone into all that now, you know? I feel hellishly homesick.”

His cousin patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll be home soon, Pip.”

“I hope so – I want to be back in the Shire. It’s a terrible thing to think of, never going back. Why, I might never have Diamond cast aspersions on my honour ever again!”

“I shouldn’t worry about it. I have no doubt she’ll be denying the very existence of your honour the minute we get back.”

Pippin perked up. “You think so?”

“I’m sure of it.” Merry tucked an arm behind his head. “Funny to think of, isn’t it, old Gandalf? Though I suppose he doesn’t go in much for romance - wizards probably have too much to think about, what with their great works and all.”

“And their staffs.”

“Yes Pip.”

“It must take a lot of maintaining, a mighty staff such as that.”

“Good night, Pippin.”

“And another thing – ”

“Pip?”

“Yes?”

“I can’t help but think you’re working your way up to a dirty joke about a wizard’s staff. I’d rather you didn’t, if it’s all the same to you.”

[darks-ink]

Rewind - Ectoberweek 2020

Acknowledging canon episodes? In my fanfic? It’s more likely than you think. Also I’m experimenting by adding the links onto this post so lemme know whether this shows up in the tag or not.

Rating: Gen Warnings: - Genre: Hurt/Comfort Words: 2,834 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Masters of All Time, Families of choice/Found family

[AO3] [FFN]

---

“What do you mean, you can’t?” Danny darted around Clockwork, refusing to let him turn away. “Clockwork!”

The ghost sighed, heavily and wearily, and looked down at Danny. “I cannot. It is that simple.”

“But that’s— that’s nonsense,” Danny insisted, gesturing wildly. “You’re the ghost of time! How can you not rewind this and fix it?!”

“I warned you, Daniel, that this would be a permanent change.” Clockwork blinked slowly, as if trying to convey some sort of emotion with his empty red eyes. “You did not heed my warning, or considered yourself above it. Now, you must live with the consequences.”

“But you’re—”

“Not all-powerful, no matter what you might think,” Clockwork cut in, narrowing his eyes. “You have altered the past, despite my warning not to. To travel back again would risk the stability of the timeline entirely. Would you rather see all of reality destroyed?”

Clockwork hummed before Danny could answer. “I would not, therefore I will not allow it to be so. The past has been set in stone, but the future is still malleable. Make it into something you can live with.”

“But…” Danny bit back his automatic response. There was no point. He’d tried fighting Clockwork before, and gotten his ass handed to him as a result. He sighed instead. “Can you at least take me back to Mom and Dad, then? The Portal looked like it blew up after I flew through it, and I don’t know where to find another.”

At that, Clockwork smiled. Or, Danny though it was a smile, at least. A small twitch of the ghost’s lips. “That, I can do.”

“Thanks, Clockwork.” Danny watched as the ghost swung his staff, a portal opening in its wake. “And… sorry, I guess.”

“Apology accepted.” Clockwork floated aside, waving a hand towards the portal. “Goodbye, Daniel.”

Danny nodded back, before flying through the portal. Welp. Time to face the music.

The portal spat him out in Amity Park, near his house. For a moment, Danny paused, considering the possibility that it brought him here because he consider Amity to be his home, no matter what. But then he realized that there was a car parked in front of the garage, one far too fancy for the neighborhood. His parents must’ve come this way, taking one of Vlad’s cars.

Thus satisfied, he flew down, phasing through the front door. No need to be secretive—both Jack and Maddie knew his secret already.

Still, he was surprised to find them both in the living room, apparently trying to clean up the place. Maddie saw him first, her body stilling. And how strange was it, that he found it comforting to see her here, in her cyan jumpsuit, with red goggles over her eyes? (That was weird, right? Danny felt like it should be weird.)

“Danny,” she said, quiet with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

At her words, Jack also looked up from where he was standing. He, too, looked almost exactly like his counterpart from Danny’s own timeline. Except with ecto-acne, of course.

“I, uh.” Danny shrugged, unsure. He felt thrown off by seeing his parents like this. It was almost right, but just slightly off. “Clockwork couldn’t undo it. Apparently the timeline is too unstable, or something. So I have to… stay in this world, I guess.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” She straightened up from her crouch, walking closer to him. “I— It probably won’t be easy, but you can stay with us for as long as you need to. Right, Jack?”

“Of course!” his dad immediately responded, nodding vigorously. “We’re… figuring stuff out, of course. But it’s thanks to you that we reunited in the first place. And you’re our kid!” He grinned, wide and loving, in that typical Jack Fenton way. “Even if the way you got here is a little weird, you’re still our family!”

“I…” He landed, noiselessly. Hesitated for a moment. Then closed the space between him and Maddie, wrapping his arms around her. “Thanks. Both of you. I’m sorry.”

The enormous warm arms of Jack Fenton came up around them. “Don’t be, kiddo. You have nothing to be sorry for,” he rumbled, underlined with an almost audible buzz of his core. It emitted a palpable feeling of family.

“No, but, I…” Danny sighed, crushing his head against Maddie’s shoulder. “It’s my fault. All of this is! I tried going back in time to change the past, to make it so Vlad wouldn’t get ecto-acne so he couldn’t infect my friends with it, but instead you became half-ghost.”

Danny drew a shaky breath, trying to fight past the emotions welling in his throat. They needed to understand. “It’s all my fault! Without my meddling, none of this would’ve happened!”

“Sounds to me,” his mom began, her thin fingers gently combing through his hair, “like you tried to help your friends, Danny.” She clicked her tongue. “Maybe not in the best way possible, but the intention was good.”

“I can’t imagine that Vlad would’ve dealt with being half-ghost much better than I,” Jack added, faint laughter in his voice. “Never mind the ecto-acne. But, of course! That’s how you recognized it!”

“Yeah, um.” Danny drew back from the hug a little. “I can… tell you guys, I guess? About my timeline. The differences, at least.”

“That’d be nice,” Maddie agreed, as Jack’s arms released them. She looked around, and Danny could read the reluctance in her body language, even despite the goggles. “We might have to clear some more stuff before we have the space to sit.”

“We could always sit on the floor?” Jack suggested, shrugging at her look. “Or Danny and I can float as ghosts.”

“Right.” Maddie shook her head, wandering over to the single chair not covered in debris and trash and reaching up to her hood. “If that works for you two, that might be the most convenient.” She paused, frowning at Danny, hood pulled off but still in hand. “But… if Vlad was the one who became half-ghost in your timeline, why are you half-ghost as well, Danny?”

“I, uh.” He shrugged, lifting his feet off of the ground to sit in mid-air. “Became half-ghost in an accident of my own.”

The frown he received from both parents very clearly asked for him to elaborate, so he did. “Okay, so. The point of divergence is the accident in college, obviously. In my timeline, Vlad got hit by the explosion, not Jack, so he becomes half-ghost and stuff. You two, Jack and Maddie, get together, especially since Vlad was cutting contact. You decide to become ghost researchers together and move to Amity Park.”

He paused to gesture to the house around them. “Specifically, you move here, to this specific house. You make it your place of business as well, called FentonWorks. Big neon sign on the front of the building, the basement downstairs becomes a lab, and at some point you two built the Ops Center at the top, which can also be used for inventing stuff. I’m… obviously not very informed of the details, since I was the second kid and you two talked very little about the past. Only,” here he made a face, “ghosts. Everything was always about ghosts.

“Anyway,” he continued, after a short pause to take a breath. “You two have Jazz first, and then me two years later. At some point after that, you start working on a new Portal, full scale, down in the lab. It takes forever to build, because you’re trying to be careful about it, I guess? But you finish it, eventually, when Jazz is sixteen and I fourteen.”

Maddie narrowed her eyes, darting them over his body. The question is clear as day: isn’t he basically fourteen?

“So,” Danny trumped on, ignoring the silent question, “After years of work, their Portal was finally finished! The ultimate proof that ghosts were real! And then it didn’t turn on.”

“It didn’t?” Jack gasped, clearly startled. Danny realized that, somehow, he’d missed the man shifting into his ghost form. “But—”

“It didn’t,” Danny interrupted, holding up a hand. “Because apparently, someone had built a secondary power switch inside the Portal, and they had forgotten to turn it on. So when they plugged in the power, the Portal didn’t turn on.”

There was clear calculation in the eyes of both of his parents, now. Danny continued his explanation before they could figure it out. Needed to tell his story to his parents, for once. He didn’t think he would ever get a chance to tell his actual parents, after all.

“Later that day, after Jazz convinced you two to take a break, my friends talked me into checking out the Portal. Just the three of us, since Tucker was interested in technology and Sam was interested in all things goth and occult.” He shrugged, almost fatalistically. “Sam suggested I take a closer look, and I did. Only, I didn’t realize that the power was still plugged in, so when I accidentally hit the power switch inside…”

“Oh!” Maddie gasped. “Oh, how terrible!”

“That must’ve hurt like hell,” Jack agreed, a painful grimace on his face. It looked strange, the genuine emotional expression with the blue skin, the pointed fangs poking out of his mouth. “Your parents must’ve felt awful, to know that they put their kid in such danger!”

“Well…” Danny made a face. “They kinda… didn’t know? They were both avid ghost hunters, both full of hate towards ghosts. I considered telling them, at first, but then they saw their first ghosts and…” Danny sighed. “I guess I was just scared that I’d be just a ghost to them. That they wouldn’t believe me.”

“That’s… That’s awful.” Jack floated over to nudge Danny. “Kiddo, if your dad was anything like me, I promise you, he would’ve cared.”

“I know.” Danny shook his head dismissively. “I know. That wasn’t why I was worried. I was afraid that they wouldn’t believe that I was me, that I was their son. That they would think that I had hurt or replaced their own kid.”

Maddie touched his shoulder, and Danny jerked, surprised. When had she stood up? Walked over? “Well… At least it is of no concern anymore, right? You’re here now, with us, and we believe you.”

It felt like something had crawled into his gut and died. “Yeah,” he said, with terribly faked enthusiasm. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s not much of a comfort, is it?” Maddie made a face. “I’m sorry. I guess I have very little parenting experience, compared to your actual mother.”

“Honestly?” He snorted. “It makes very little difference. Like I said, she and Dad spent most of the time in the lab, or otherwise occupied with ghost research.”

Maddie clicked her tongue, distaste clear on her face. “Well, isn’t that a waste. They have such a lovely son, and they don’t even enjoy his presence?”

“Well, y’know.” Danny shrugged, trying to ignore the pleased whirring of his core. “They try, now, but with all the ghosts we’re all kinda distracted. Them with trying to catch some for their research, and I with trying to protect the townspeople from the ghosts.”

Jack’s expression visibly brightened—as did the glow around his body. “You’re a ghost hunter! A ghost-fighting superhero! Just like I tried to be!”

“Uh.” Danny felt his brain skip over, then remembered. Somewhere in the blathering when he first arrived, Jack had mentioned that he’d tried using his powers for good. “Yeah, I guess so. But I had a little more success with it.” He grinned sheepishly.

“We should team up!” Jack exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Danny’s shoulders. “The two of us, and Maddie, if she wants to! We’d be a fantastic team!”

Danny laughed, a little uncertain. “Well, maybe. But we’ll need a Thermos to catch the ghosts, and a Portal to dump them back into the Ghost Zone, first. Those were kind of my major tools in managing. And Sam and Tucker, of course.”

“Oh?” Maddie asked, perking up. “Sam and Tucker? You mentioned them before, I think. Are those your friends?”

“Yeah, they… I guess they don’t know me, here.” He sighed, feeling himself drift down closer to the floor, away from his dad’s arm. “They… We were best friends, to the absolute end. Even after the stuff in the lab, the half-ghost stuff, the constant attacking ghosts and hunting them down, they stuck by my side.”

“I’m sorry, kiddo.” Jack landed as well, although unlike Danny, he landed on his feet. “But they’ll be around, right? It might not be the same, but they’re not gone.”

“Might as well be,” Danny huffed. He shook his head. “It won’t be the same. Without the years of shared experiences…”

Maddie and Jack shared a look—not quite as conversational as the ones his parents shared, but a good enough substitute—before apparently deciding to change the topic altogether.

“Why don’t we see if we can clear some rooms upstairs?” Maddie asked, clapping her hands together. “We’ll need at least two rooms clear enough for use, preferably three.”

“Three?” Danny echoed, frowning at them. “You’re not sharing?”

“We haven’t seen each other in years, Danny,” she pointed out, getting up from the chair. “We’re still reconnecting, never mind actually getting together.”

“Right,” he agreed, following her to the stairs. “But you are moving in?”

“Friends can share a house,” Jack pointed out, shifting back to his human form in a flash of white light, and reminding Danny to do the same. “And this way she won’t have to worry about getting kicked out of Vlad’s mansion while all the paperwork and stuff is happening.”

“And I never liked the mansion much,” Maddie admitted with a wry smile. “I liked the Vlad I knew, way back when, but over time it became clear that that wasn’t the real Vlad. I’d been thinking about divorcing him for longer, but… I don’t know. There was no one else I knew, nowhere I could go.”

“Not even to Aunt Alicia? I mean, she’s divorced as well, isn’t she?”

“I… didn’t realize she had married in the first place.” Maddie’s steps faltered for a moment before she continued up the stairs. “I guess I was afraid that she would judge me for marrying Vlad in the first place. I don’t know… It seems rather illogical, now, but I figured I could put up with Vlad well enough. And with his money I could afford my research, even if I had to do it behind his back.”

They stopped in the hallway upstairs, looking around. Danny resisted the urge to grimace. Somehow upstairs was even more of a mess than downstairs had been.

“Which room was yours, in your timeline?” Jack asked, sidling up to Danny.

“Uh.” He carefully stepped past the mess, stopping in front of his door. Or the door that belonged to the room that was his, in his own timeline. “This one. And Jazz had that one,” he pointed over to the room that his sister used. “The one next to mine was a guest room.”

Jack nodded. “Right, that makes sense! You can take that room if you want, Danny. Mads, you can take the other room if you want. The one next to here I used as a lab for a while, so cleaning…”

“Won’t be easy, got it.” She nodded as well. “I’ll take the other one. Let’s start with clearing out this one, shall we?”

“Let’s.” Danny pushed open the door, bracing himself mentally for the whiplash of seeing his room without it being his room.

As a result, he was almost toppled over by the cat that rushed past his legs.

“Jasmine!” Jack cheered, crouching down to pick up the fluffy white thing. “Is this where you’ve been hiding, honey?”

“Well,” Danny said, then stopped. He had no clue what to say. He didn’t even know what he thought of this.

“Well,” he tried again. “At least now I know who picked the name for Jazz, and who picked mine.”

Maddie snorted, gently pushing him into the room. “Personally, I think Danny is a great name, honey.”

“Thanks,” he retorted, eyes darting over the room. It was dark—the curtains were closed despite the time of day—but his night vision was pretty solid. “It’s short for Daniel.”

“And Jazz for Jasmine, then? That’s cute.” She ruffled his hair as she stepped past him, drawing open the curtains. “Hm. we certainly have our work cut out for us.”

“Yeah,” Danny agreed, looking at the piles of he-didn’t-know-what lying around. There was a bed buried in one of the piles, which suggested it might’ve been a guest room at some point. Or used by someone else, before Jack moved in. “And we still need to clear yours, too.”

“Better get working then,” Maddie decided, shaking her head as she crouched down. “Things won’t get better on their own, after all.”

[cdrmiller]

SSV Berlin

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

Marie wrapped her arms around her fluffy pillow and burrowed into the covers. She sighed at the way her naked body felt against the crisp sheets, and she melted into them, thinking how beds were definitely the greatest invention of mankind. She stared out of the viewing window of her quarters and listened to the sound of water running from the bathroom. When Isaac had practically ordered her to take a break, this was not only the first thing, but the only thing that popped into her mind. She sighed again after breathing in the clean scent, wiggling her bare toes and pressed her cheek deeper into the softness. 

“Never been jealous of a pillow before.” 

Her eyes found him in the doorway of the bathroom, her hips instinctively jerked when he moved, walking across the room in only a towel slung low on his prominent hips. Marie’s plan had been cuddles. Her, curled into a ball, that man’s arms around her squeezing her as tight as her bones would allow, and maybe a nap. But her body had a different story it needed to tell now, watching his muscles shift under his tanned skin. 

A palm held up towards him and a shake of her head stopped him in his tracks as soon as he reached the edge of the bed. The same hand curled in on itself, leaving one finger to hook into thin air, and when she pulled it back towards her, her eyes flashing from brown to blue for just one second, the towel covering him came with it. Her lips parted and her dark eyes grew even darker as they raked down his body. “What exactly were you thinking about in the shower, Mr. Morrisini?” 

Nico’s grin was crooked as his hand smoothed over the ridges of his abs, knowing exactly what she wanted. He flexed, and watched her visible reaction as his muscles swelled, becoming more defined. He could feel her heartbeat and breath climb when he wrapped his fingers around the length of hard flesh. He gripped himself and started to stroke, slowly, purposefully. 

Marie whimpered as she watched his cock become bigger and harder and she climbed out of the covers, spreading her legs before him. His hand faltered in its caress and this time it was his lips’ turn to part in want. Her hips moved in time with the strokes of his hand and her fingers rubbed small circles against her clit in just the right way to make her shiver. She watched him pumping himself, loving the tingle of torture spreading through her body.

They had played this game before. Sometimes he won, when she couldn’t stand it anymore and would crawl to him, replacing his hand with her mouth. But this time she won, when she dipped her fingers into herself and then trailed them over her nipples, leaving trails of her own juices. He dropped himself then, and she smiled when he crawled onto the bed, hovering over her as his tongue followed the wet lines. His big hands slid up her smooth body and he stayed, taking her nipples into his mouth and sucking, giving both an equal amount of attention. 

She held his head, watching her breast disappear into his wet, warm mouth. She loved his lips on a normal day, but when they were wrapped around her flesh… she moaned loudly at the sight. Her back arched, wanting him to take more of her. “Nic,” She wrapped her legs around him, impressed at the restraint not to immediately thrust into her, but wanting exactly that. Finally, after kissing up her chest and neck agonizingly slowly, he moved his hips. 

“I love you.” He whispered the words against her lips at the same time he pushed into her. 

“I love you.” She replied on a shaky breath, her nails trying to dig into the reinforced skin of his back as he stretched her. Her lips closed the breaths distance to his and he fucked her slowly, each thrust drawing a moan into his mouth. 

****** 

“Nic. I need you to do something for me.” 

“Anything.” He said it without hesitation, but she wasn’t so sure his answer would be said the same. 

They lay on their sides, face to face, and her eyes dropped to his chest, suddenly nervous to find out. Her gaze followed her own finger as it drew a line down his skin, admiring how beautiful it was. He caught her hand and held it, kissing the ring on her finger, sensing her hesitation. 

“I need you to believe we’ll make it out of this.” 

She watched a wide range of emotions pass in phases over his features, knowing he had never let himself think about the future. But to her, that’s what was worth fighting for. He had made a promise to be with her to the end and she refused to accept the end that he believed in.

“I’ll try. For you.” 

She knew he meant it, and the hand that wasn’t already entwined with his moved to rest against his cheek. “For us.” She pulled her hand out of his grasp to wiggle her ring finger in front of his face, smiling.  Nico chuckled, and she thought of how much she loved that deep rumbling sound as he wrapped his fingers back around hers and pulled them to his lips, kissing the ring again. 

“There’s one more thing.” 

Nico groaned, letting her hand drop, pretty sure he had already reached his limit and afraid he wouldn’t be able to promise whatever she’d ask of him next.   

“When it’s all over...” her hand brushed his cheek before trailing down his neck, her voice full of emotion. “When it’s over, I want you to take me to Italy.” 

He was kissing her before she could blink, and he had never said so much than he did with the way his lips moved softly over hers. “Nothing would make me happier.” 

She kissed him back, her tongue exploring his, trying to fill in the cracks splintering his voice. 

“Nothing?” 

She held his golden gaze with a mischievous smile when she finally flattened her palms against his smooth chest and pushed lightly. Her body followed his as he rolled back against the mattress. The sheet fell away as she threw a leg over his hips, revealing bare flesh that his hands were immediately roaming over. Her hands slid down his powerful arms until her fingers wrapped around his wrists, pulling them above his head. She was instantly wet with the deep growl that reverberated in his throat when she pushed down hard with her hips, grinding against him just the way she knew he couldn’t resist. 

“Not even round 3?”

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Astronomy Lesson

Pairing: The Mandalorian/ Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: I dug around, but there seems to be nothing on Mandalorian astronomy and there is clearly a lot of gaps in the history, so I took full advantage.  The stories told within this are my own invention, so if they don’t mesh with Mandalorian culture, well, is it a surprise to my regulars that I don’t really mesh with canon all that well?

Reminder:  I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars​ , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  , @altarsw

---***---

Hyperspace was quiet, but beautiful and Din Djarin used those moments to find inner calm in a life that was anything but.  The travel to the next planet, even in hyperspace, was going to take several hours and he took a chance to rest, maybe even sleep a little, until the cycle of bounty hunting began all over again.

He slept quietly for a long time before he was drawn from his slumber by the murmur of a voice.  As he became more alert, he could hear her talking.  At first, he thought it was to herself – she had a bad habit of doing it – and he smiled, but he realized that occasionally a small cooing noise seemed to respond to the words being spoken.  He sat in the captain’s chair, facing away from them, but listened intently to what she was saying.

“Watch your fingers, we don’t want to prick them with the needle!”  She smiled as the child tried grabbing the sharp object every time it pierced the fabric.  He loved watching her work on various embroidery projects and seemed fascinated when the small pieces of thread became a big picture.

“Do you see that one?  That is te gaid, five stars united to help protect the Mando’ade.  Legend says that the Taung used their shields together to create great walls of protection in times of war.  They don’t use shields anymore, but in the sky te gaid is to remind the Mando’ade the ka’ra will always protect them.”  Her voice was soft, almost lilting as she recounted the story and the child seemed to understand as he ran his little hand across the image on the cloth.  The white stood stark against the swirls of navy blue and black that she had been stitching over the last month.

Din’s breath caught in his chest when he realized what she was teaching the child.  But he kept still, wondering if she had more to say.  The child patted her hand and when she looked at him, he pointed at a long line of stars before looking back her, expecting the story for that constellation, too.  She smiled as she kissed the top of his head.

“Ah, the bevii’ragir.  Hunters since the early days of Mandalore use it to hunt for food and to protect their clans from attack.  But it is said that the bevii’ragir gave life to the world.  Long before the Mando’ade and even in the days before the Taung, the galaxy was a swirl of violence where no life could take root and thrive.  In this miasma rose Kad Ha’rangir who saw that the chaos needed to be tamed.  So, he went to war to bring order to the galaxy so that life may thrive.”

She stabbed the needle a little harder into the fabric to punctuate her story and the child giggled at the image.  She made a few more stitches before she tied off the thread and continued her story.

“Kad Ha’rangir used his bevii’ragir to defeat those who threatened life and as he made his way from planet to plant, new worlds sprung up in his wake. Because Kad Ha’rangir had slew chaos with his bevii’ragir, the Mando’ade created their own so they, too, could keep chaos at bay.  It was a bringer of life.”

And so the stories continued as the child pointed to new constellations – the verborir’ce that protected the Mando’ade from their enemies and now protected their identities, the Mythosaur that Mandalore the First slew to give Mando’ade their first home, the senaar, little birds that whistled sweetly but were very deadly; many more stories flowed from her lips as she worked on her project.  

The two were so lost into their own little astronomy lesson that they didn’t realize that Din had turned the chair to watch them.  She, hunched over him like a reverent mother with golden flowers in her hair mimicking the glow of a halo, and the child, gazing up at her with love.  His heart clenched at the sight and nothing in his world ever felt so right as this singular moment did.

As she clipped off the last of the thread, she unscrewed the hoop to let the entire cloth layout – the project was done.  She smoothed it on the arm of the chair, trying to reduce the creases before she ironed it later.  He could see from where he sat an entire starry sky telling the history and story of Mandalore spinning out from the insignia of the mudhorn in the middle.  Din’s sharp intake of breath at the sight caught her ears and she looked up, realizing he was watching them.

“Oh.”  She blushed as she began to roll up the fabric, embarrassed because she thought he had been asleep.  She wondered how much he heard while she had been talking.  When he brought her on board in Byss to care for the child and the new needs of the Razor Crest, he just knew her as a seamstress with a knack for people.  

He didn’t know she was a scholar and that she was versed in myths and legends from around the galaxy, hundreds of stories swirling in her brain at any given time.  It was likely she knew more Mandalorian myths than he had forgotten over the years.

“Can I see it?”  He sounded shy and she cocked her head.  Her brave Mandalorian, shy?  She smiled, her own uncertainty dissipating.  She moved the child onto the seat next to her and scooched closer until her knees were touching his and she unfurled the project onto their laps.  He looked for a long time, seeing familiar constellations once lost to him as the stories swam in his mind, a little hazy.

He pointed to a pair of constellations that he couldn’t recall, one shaped like a zig zag and one shaped like a simple home, but both incredibly close to each other. His head tilted in question.

“The cyare soldus – the loved ones.  Do you not know the story?”  He could feel his cheeks warm, as if they were on fire.  Despite hearing her tell the stories she just shared, it didn’t dawn on him that she understood Mando’a.  He had been calling her cyare for months now, thinking he was being clever using his mother tongue to hide his endearment towards her.  He hadn’t been, apparently.

Nothing about her face showed him that she knew what he was thinking and instead an excited giggle rose from the child as he climbed back onto her lap when he realized she was going to tell another story.  He settled in and she leaned back to begin the tale.

“The story of the cyare soldus is one of love and devotion.  A powerful Mando’ade named Ukra won many battles in the name of Mandalore, but for all his victories to protect his clan and the Mando’ade, he was very lonely.  He prayed to the Maker each day to guide him into the arms of his riduur, to give him new meaning in the world.  But none came.

“Then one day, Ukra was alone at a market on a planet neighboring Mandalore when he saw her, his riduur.  Her name was Adas and she sat a loom, weaving the cloth used to make the capes favored by the Mando’ade and she hummed a tune as she worked.  But she stopped when she felt someone staring at her.  She smiled at him and despite not being able to see his face, she knew he was meant to be hers.”

As the story flowed over them, Din could feel a faint burning in his ears as a sense of familiarity began to grow.

“But before he could talk to her, a thief barreled through the market and as he was cornered, he drew a blaster and fired wildly into the crowd.  Ukra saw Adas was in danger and he leap over the table and pulled her to the ground, using his armor to protect her.

“Ukra turned and shot the thief, killing him instantly and saving the market from the danger.  He turned back to Adas and helped her up.  He asked her to come with him, to be his riduur, but she declined.  She said that she had heard of the great Ukra and felt that she, a simple weaver, could not be the great wife a man such as him needed.”

She paused a moment to catch her breath and the child cooed in excitement, as if clamoring for her to continue.  Both were unaware of the shifting of Din in front of them, as he began to think not of the story she told, but of a share memory from the recent past that seemed hauntingly familiar.

“But Ukra was not deterred.  For seven days, he returned to the market and asked Adas the same question and seven times she refused.  He begged her to tell him what he needed to do to make her his riduur and she told him to return in three days and she would.

“Three days later, Ukra returned to the market to see the loom still and no Adas to be found.  He panicked and began asking everyone where she had gone.  Someone took pity on the Mandalorian and told him to seek her out in the temple. And so, he went.

“There, in the darkness was Adas and Ukra dropped to his knees, again begging her to tell him what he needed to do.  She told him he must complete three tasks.  The first was to find a golden flower shaped like the Maker’s star. The second was to bring her three skiens of the fine wool of the ovis of Kashyyyk.  And finally, he must bring her three of the purple gemstones found in the caves of Naboo.

“He agreed and for a year and a day, Ukra travelled the galaxy in search of the items Adas had requested.  Upon his return, he found her at the market as always and when he presented his bounties to her, she nodded and told him to return to the temple in ten days.

“On the morning of the tenth day, Ukra arrived at the temple.  He looked but could not find Adas.  She called his name from behind him and he saw her, adorned in a new dress made from the fine wool of the Kashyyyk ovis. At her throat was a necklace, sparkling with the gemstones of Naboo, and in the swirls of her hair rested the flower that resembled the Marker’s star, seemingly a beacon guiding one home.

“Adas spoke, ’I agree to become your riduur Ukra because you have shown me your love and devotion.  She walked to him and took his hand in her own, saying the vows he longed to hear from her.  We are one whether we are together or apart, we will share everything, and we will raise our children as warriors.  Ukra removed his helmet and they kissed under the star of the Maker, who answered his prayers.

“Legend says that Ukra and Adas welcomed many children into their home, creating a large clan that protected the Mando’ade for many generations. When they were old, they prayed to the Maker that they should die together and the Maker made it so, placing them in the night sky to remind the Mando’ade that the devotion of the cyare soldus will secure the future of Mandalore.”

As she ended her story, a large yawn came from the child and she giggled at him.  He laughed too as his eyes began to droop, clutching the necklace that rested on her breast.  He adored the sparkle of the lavender gemstone and played with it often.  It was his favorite thing to hold when she told her stories, almost like a child clasping a dolly.

She brushed her lips over the small head and began to whisper in his ear as she lifted him off her lap and placed him gently into his carrier.  She arranged the soft blankets around him and smiled as his large eyes closed into a soft slumber.  The adults were left to face each other.

During the story, Din had sat quietly, realizing their own story mirrored the she told.  He knew she had been perfect for the job when he saw her, and covert research told him his instincts were correct.  When he asked her to come with him, she refused several times however, demurring that she was a seamstress and not a warrior like himself.  

He spent several days trying to get her to change her mind and still she refused, even the face of blaster fire that swept through the shopping area she was working in. It was only when he brought her the child and explained what he needed of her, she relented and agreed to join him.  After ten days, they left Byss to continue the search for the child’s home planet and his people.

With her story done, she rolled up the fabric and tied it with a bit of ribbon.  She placed it carefully into her sewing bag before settling back into the chair to look at him. He had been awfully quiet, and she knew he was thinking about them and the story she just told them.

“What will you do with it?”  His voice gave away his curiosity.  The piece was at least two feet long and she had put so much time into it, surely, she had plans.

“I will frame it, then it can be hung in your bunk.”

“You made that for me?”  He was surprised and she laughed at his tone.

“Of course.  The resol’nare dictates that you are to raise the child in the Mandalore tradition.  You have nothing here that will teach the child the ways of the Mando’ade.  And all training begins with a good story, after all.”

“But we will find his people.” He argued, not wanting to give into the hope that her words gave him.

“After a year of searching, Din?  Surely you must realize the chances are now slim and that you were meant to raise him as your own. You have been devoted to him and he will always see himself as a Mandalorian above all else.”  She stood up, brushing lint off her fine wool dress, and bent down to gather her bag to take it to her small bunk.  

There was that burning sensation in his ears again.  A year. His head tilted so he could look up at her and she could feel the atmosphere shift between them.  She looked at him, a small smile on her lips.

“You are as one, Din.  He will share in everything with you.”

“No, cyare, whether together or apart, we are as one and will share everything.”  His voice was resolute as he stood, and she could feel his eyes on her before she nodded at him, setting her bag down on the chair behind her.  A year and day had been building towards this.

“We will share everything.”  Her voice was just as firm, and he dropped his helmet, so it gently touched her forehead. He placed his hand in between them, palm open to her.  She took it in both of hers and his fingers curled to hold her close.

His cyare.  A woman who had known his words.  Known his intentions.  Had known him.

“We will raise the child as a warrior.”  His voice caught as he said the last of the vows.  But hers remained strong, so much like herself.

“We will.”

---***---

Translations and Notes:

Te gaid – the shield

Bevii’ragir – a spear used by hunters among the Mandalorian, its history isn’t well charted but is said to be ancient.

Verborir’ce – the helmet

Senaar – bird

Riduur - wife

[elizaisthetruehero]

Stranger with my Sister's Face Chapter 1

Someone at the DOD has a cruel sense of humor. That’s the only explanation Jo can think of for why her brother Tony is standing in front of her, being introduced as the new DOD liaison for Eureka and GD. Tony takes in his new assignment in stride as well as he can, though he has some trouble reconciling the person in front of him with his little sister. She just seems to have a little too much practice keeping secrets from him, starting with the boyfriend.

AO3 Link

Sunlight came streaming in through the windows and was glinting off of the data pad Zane was pushing in front of Jo. "Come on, one more problem, and then we'll take a quick break. You've got orbital and flight mechanics down, and you know the ship inside and out. I know you can do this. Let's just make sure everyone else knows it too."

Jo leaned back in her chair, where she was sitting at Zane's kitchen table, with more data pads and textbooks spread out in front of them. "And what were you thinking of for a break?"

"Well," Zane placed his hand on her arm, gently caressing up towards her shoulder, "you should probably have a snack, feed that brain. I've got the stuff for smoothies if that sounds good. Then", he leaned in and pressed a kiss to where her jaw met her ear, "I should probably make sure you get nice and relaxed. Studying while all tense can't be good for memory retention, I'm sure there's a study on it." He continued to press his lips along her jawline, marking a trail to her chin and back to her ear.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, someone in educational psychology has probably done studies on the length of the cramming session" another kiss was pressed to her jaw, "the proper environment" his nose nuzzled at the side of her face, "and what mental state the student should be in." He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and drew back, smirking. "I think a snack and a few minutes away from the books will be just what the doctor ordered."

Jo raised her brow and tried not to smile at his familiar antics. "I think you want an excuse to get me out of my clothes."

"Now Miss Lupo, who said anything about taking off your clothes? Besides, that dress looks so nice on you. It'd be a shame to take it off." Zane said while looking up and down her body, grinning appreciatively, his eyes lingering.

"I had church before I came to see you."

"I'm not complaining JoJo, just complimenting."

Jo's PDA buzzed, and she pulled it out to check it. They've got to be kidding me. "Shit, I gotta run."

"What happened?"

"The new liaison from the DOD came early. They sent someone active duty military, and I have to give their briefing and finish their clearance."

"How long is that going to take?"

She stood from the table and started looking through the papers for her wallet and keys. Where the hell did I put those? "Probably about an hour or so, I'll make Larry settle them into housing and everything else, I just have to handle the security aspect. It would have gone faster if they'd given me their information beforehand like I asked, but the DOD keeps to their own schedule. If it takes much longer than that I'll grab dinner from Café Diem for us on my way back. Does Thai sound good if I have to do that?"

"You don't want to make them sweat while you finish this last problem?"

She smiled at Zane's pouting face softly. "I'll finish up with this guy as quickly as I can and then I'm all yours to torture with orbital mechanics and rocket ship engineering for the rest of the weekend." Jo kissed him slowly, bringing a hand around the back of his neck. Zane pulled her to him, both arms slipping around her waist, a tongue licking into her mouth. She smiled against him then pulled away. "I'll text you when I get out of GD."

"Fine, go, do your job. Make sure that the DOD didn't send a complete moron our way."

"Or a Consortium spy."

Zane furrowed his brow in confusion. "Shouldn't they have already checked that?"

"Yeah, but my background checks are more thorough. Even if the DOD objects to them. Apparently, it's rude to request those records for a sitting Senator. But some lowly grunt is fair game." Jo grabbed her keys from the dish on the table beside Zane's front door and tried not to think of how she'd automatically tossed them there when she'd gotten there a few hours ago, how easily she'd slipped back into the habits built from two years together.

She drove off to GD, parked, grabbed the extra blazer she kept hanging in the backseat of her car, putting it on to look a little more professional and pulling her hair into a ponytail, now grateful that she hadn't changed after church. Her heels clicked on the floor as she made her way to the conference room off to the side of the rotunda.

Jo saw Daisy Lowell, one of her overnight and weekend security guards standing outside the conference room and nodded in greeting. "New liaison get in okay?"

"Uh, yeah, he just got here. His files are all here, and I ran the checks you like when he showed up, as soon as I got the name. No security concerns, no red flags." Jo heard a slight shuffle, looked down and saw Daisy's left leg shuffling, a tell that something was off with her.

"Is there something else you'd like to tell me?" Jo kept her tone light, but her eyes on the shifting leg.

Daisy kept her gaze forward but avoiding Jo's face. "One thing you should know Ma'am. When I saw his record, I noticed that it was someone who, well, uh, would be familiar to you."

Jo turned her eyes upwards to Daisy's face. "Someone I served with in the Rangers?"

"He was a Ranger." Her voice was tight, clearly taking care not to betray anything.

"Lowell..."

"Look, I didn't say you were the Chief of Security, and he didn't say anything, so I think he'll be just as surprised as you. Just go in there, do the briefing, and maybe schedule in time to catch up." Daisy handed her the file, moved out of the way of the door, and Jo pushed it open.

She first saw Senator Wen sitting at the head of the table, and the back of the new liaison. Crew cut, tan skin, the muscles obvious through the army dress uniform, but not particularly broad, though from what she could tell while sitting, fairly tall, at least six feet. She began cycling through the men she'd served with, trying to place him without the face or voice. Maybe Matteo Garcia, or Joey Pesci. Hell, if Adam Johnson had been serving somewhere sunny before coming here, he might be tan enough to fit the bill.

Senator Wen noticed her enter the room. "Ah, Ms. Lupo, glad you could join us." The new liaison's head swiveled around, and he almost toppled out of his chair getting up. Jo realized that all of her guesses were wrong, that while this man had been a Ranger, he hadn't served with her.

"Hi, Tony." She did her best to act blasé, though she was sure he would be able to recognize the surprise on her face.

Tony just blinked at her, looking just as he had when they'd been caught trying to sneak out to go to a concert years ago, "I, uh, Jo? What are you doing here?"

"You have a security briefing. I'm the Chief of Security here. Do the math, you're going to have to do a lot of it here."

"I thought you said you were working private security for some tiny tech company."

Jo drew her shoulders back and tried not to sound too smug. "You are familiar with the concept of top-secret and need to know, right? Cover stories? I do hope so, or else I'm going to have a hard time approving your clearance."

"Ah-hem." Jo and Tony turned to Senator Wen who had a slight upturn to her lips, almost a smile. "Evidently you two don’t need me to introduce you to each other."

Jo smiled, "No, that won't be necessary. That was taken care of a long time ago."

"You were irritating and loud from the moment we met," Tony smirked.

Jo chose not to respond verbally and simply backhanded him in the gut. "Senator, with all due respect, how long have you known my brother was coming to Eureka?"

Senator Wen did smile now. "Oh, a few days now. I thought it would be a nice surprise for the two of you." She walked around the table. "I'll let you get to work now. He already got an overview briefing in DC, he just needs the details of what's going on right now and security procedures."

"I'll take care of it." Jo and Tony each shook the Senator's hand before she left.

"Pleasure meeting you Major Lupo. Oh, and it goes without saying, but he will not have any say in the selection of Astraeus candidates. Washington was very clear about that." The senator left, and Jo tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach, the one that said that her brother's placement in Eureka had something to do with her.

"Well?"

Jo turned back to her brother. "Right, let's get this started. So, what were you told? I just want to make sure we don't miss anything."

Tony looked at her incredulously. "No no no, back up, let's take a minute. When one goes months without seeing one's siblings, it's customary to express some form of affection. Acknowledgment that we're not complete strangers. That sort of thing." He held his arms out and cocked his head.

She rolled her eyes and hugged him. "It's good to see you too Tony."

He chuckled. "Why did that sound like it hurt a little?" He squeezed her tighter, and Jo pushed her face into his neck smiling, taking in the familiar smell of the god-awful musky cologne he'd always worn. She hadn't smelled it since before 1947.

"Don't be a jackass."

"There's only so much I can do about that." They separated from the hug and sat down at the table. "We should probably get started."

Jo opened his file on the table and checked which briefing and checks he had gotten in DC and what Daisy had already taken care of. "Okay, so you know the basics. Eureka was founded as a place for the greatest scientific minds in the US to gather, collaborate and redefine the cutting edge. We get funded by the DOD, and they get military projects and inventions. You're the military liaison, so you're going to be focused on the projects with military applications and finding military applications for others, mostly weapons projects, but also infrastructure, energy alternatives, medical advancement, etc.

You'll have meetings with department and lab heads, but you should schedule those. These scientists are very busy, and their experiments often have delicate timetables. They can't drop everything to chat with you. I do not want one of their pet projects blowing up because you forgot how to work a phone. Is that clear?" Jo fixed her brother with a look that made it clear she was not making a suggestion.

"Yeah, crystal."

"I also see you were told about the Astraeus mission."

"Yeah, they mentioned the 20 Billion dollar space project. I'm still confused as to how it travels, but apparently, it's been tested and works, and last I checked, understanding how these things work wasn't my job."

"Yeah, it's a 6 month mission to one of Jupiter's moons, Titan. I'm sure the DOD will find some use for the research done on it. And no, no one expects you to understand the details of the science and the experiments done here, though you will probably pick some things up. The people here like to talk about their work, and you're going to be pressed for company that doesn't already have multiple PhDs."

"Okay," Tony looked over the paperwork he still had to sign and then asked, "What did Wen mean when she said I obviously wouldn't have any say over the candidates. I figured the DOD would want a little more say over who goes on this thing."

"You'd get accusations of bias." Jo drew her attention to the papers in front of her, looking for the different disaster procedure outlines for him to sign. If Larry lost them again, she'd kill him for real.

"Why would I get accused of bias? I don't know any of the geniuses trying to get off the planet."

"Tony," she drew her shoulders back and sat straighter, the way that she'd been drilled to in Basic training, the same way her brother had been drilled too, "I'm one of the candidates for the Astraeus mission."

He blinked. "That's very funny Josefina."

"I'm not kidding."

"Seriously." He paused, staring at her in shock. "You want to go into a never tested spaceship, that has a barely tested, still experimental engine that travels through creating wormholes, and hang out on another planet for six months doing what exactly?"

"First of all, I just told you, Titan is a moon, not a planet. Second, the researchers are going to be doing their experiments around Titan and out of the atmosphere at various points and will need an experienced pilot to handle the mission shuttle. Third, in case you forgot, I went to West Point for Mechanical Engineering, and since coming to Eureka, have gotten a more thorough practical education. I know what I'm doing, I know how the ship works, and am damn good at wrangling those geniuses when something goes wrong, which it inevitably will. And for the love of God, it's the opportunity to go to space! This is what everyone dreams about! I'm not turning that down."

Tony shook his head. "This is Uncle Ralph's fault."

"What are you talking about?"

"If he hadn't gotten you those books on space when you were a kid, this wouldn't be happening."

Jo couldn't believe what he was saying. "Oh come on."

"Nicky always told us the space phase would come back to bite us in the ass. We didn't believe him, but what do you know, crazy shit happens."

"I know what I'm doing. This is what I want, and I'm good at it." Jo tried not to be annoyed at Tony, but he was making it difficult. "Look, can we have this conversation later? We have a lot to get through."

"Fine." She knew that she wasn't going to be able to avoid this conversation for very long, and Tony would probably try to talk her out of the Astraeus mission at least a few more times. Stubbornness was a shared Lupo trait after all. "After we finish the government's business, is there somewhere around here to get take out? My briefing in DC mentioned an apartment, but to be honest, after the flight, I don't feel like cooking. And it would be nice to catch up."

"Yeah, I can grab us something from Café Diem while Larry gets you settled." Jo's gut twisted. She wasn't going to be in and out of this like she thought. She took out her PDA and messaged Zane and turned the non-emergency ringer off. Briefing going to be taking longer than I said. Won't be available until after dinner, later tonight. Sorry.

"Everything okay?" he nodded toward her PDA.

"Yeah, I just had plans. Going over stuff for the written science background test for Astraeus with a friend. I was just letting him know I had to cancel."

"Uh-huh. And uh, did these plans have anything to do with why you're wearing a dress?"

That got him a glare. "I had church this morning and I didn't bother changing afterward. Do you want to finish this after midnight, or do you want food at some point?"

Tony looked like he wanted to argue, then thought better of it, "I would like food at some point."

"Then shut up."

Paperwork was completed, Larry showed up, and Jo handed off Tony to him, noting the wide eyes as Larry processed who the DOD had sent. She quickly ordered some pizzas and salad (ignoring Vince's eyebrow-waggling, since he probably thought she was bringing them somewhere else) and brought them back to the one bedroom apartment that the DOD had arranged for Tony while Larry was leaving with the completed paperwork. He unpacked his bags, which had been brought when he arrived. Jo and Tony spent the rest of the afternoon and evening catching up, Jo retelling some of the stories she had already told him over the years with the details filled in, now that he had clearance.

She excused herself around 8, saying she had work in the morning, and still needed to take care of things, and drove over to Zane's apartment. Jo knocked on the door and forced herself to keep calm while waiting. It's not the end of the world. It's just Tony and Zane living in the same town. Working in the same building.

Oh God. The end of the world would probably be less explosive.

Zane opened the door and waved her in. "How long did it take to sign in some DOD bureaucrat?"

"Signing him in didn't take very long. Catching up is what took up most of the afternoon." She wrung her hands together and turned to face him, her skirt swishing against her knees. Zane closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

"They send someone you served with?"

"I wish," Jo scoffed, then ducked her head. "Someone at the DOD has a sense of humor, and decided to give my brother Tony the job".

Zane stiffened, then cracked a strained smile. "Big Brother sent big brother?"

"God, I'm going to be hearing that one for weeks aren't I?"

"Oh yeah." Zane came closer, and wrapped an arm around Jo's back, pulling her to him. "So what does he know?"

"Tony has access to all labs but will need prior authorization from myself or Fargo before entering Section 5. He does not get to harass the scientists, and we're trying to make sure he doesn't disturb the work done."

"Jo…"

"He knows about the Astraeus, and that I'm a candidate, and let me tell you, he is not happy about that, thinks I'm an adrenaline seeking idiot for going to space, and he doesn't want to have to tell"

"What does he know about us?"

Jo paused. "What, that his little sister is screwing the town felon? Funnily enough, that question didn't come up."

Zane ducked his head down to meet her eyes. "He's going to hear about it. Your brother is going to be here until at least the launch, if not longer, and people in this town talk. Zoe heard about us while she was on the other side of the country. How long do you think we have until someone mentions me to him?"

"Carter didn't find out for over a month."

"Yeah, and once it got out, it spread. Everyone knows, and everyone's a gossip. He's going to find out we're sleeping together some way or another."

"Look, I just need you to behave yourself around him, okay? Tone down the flirting, don't blatantly discuss the fact that we're sleeping together in front of him and try not to stare at my ass. Or my chest."

"Why should I?"

Jo stilled when she heard him, not understanding what he was saying. "What?"

"What motivation do I have for behaving? You're insistent that we're just friends, so why should either of us care what your brother thinks of me?" Zane ran his hand up and down her spine softly, trying to get her to relax. "I don't know what the Zane Donovan you knew was like, but I have a reputation for spitting in the face of authority. If I start sucking up to some DOD schmuck for no reason, well, someone's going to think I'm up to something."

"Or maybe they just think you're turning over a new leaf. You know, becoming an actual grownup."

Zane leaned back from Jo, and pulled one arm away from her, propping it up on the counter. "Maybe, but maybe he wouldn't."

Jo raised an eyebrow "You realize it sounds like you're asking me to introduce you to my brother at my boyfriend, right?"

He shrugged, "If that's what you want to call it, fine by me. If you want to tell him we're just having meaningless sex, which, need I remind you, has been your call, that's your choice. If you want to look your big brother in the eye and use the phrase Friends with Benefits, go for it, I will back you up. But you and I both know that's not the only thing that's going on here.

We have dinner together most days. I spend most of my free time with you. You spend most of your nights in my bed. Honestly, you really should start keeping clothes here at this point, there's going to be a Eureka disaster at some point. Do you want to show up in yesterdays' clothes or better yet, mine?"

"Zane,"

"I have no intention of going out or being with anyone else right now, and I don't think you do either. What's the harm in telling your brother what he's going to hear anyway? At least this way I'll see it coming when he tries to shoot me."

She stepped back and wrapped her arms around her chest, looking away from Zane, not knowing how to explain the relationship between herself and her brothers. "The last time I would have introduced a guy to my family in this timeline, would have been my junior prom date. They were so overbearing and overprotective and just awful that I told them the next time I introduced them to someone I was dating would be when I was handing out wedding invitations."

"In this timeline?"

"I'm assuming so anyway. Based on conversations I've had with them, they never met anyone I dated."

"What about the other timeline?"

Jo turned her gaze toward the floor, away from his bright blue eyes. "In the other timeline, we had been dating for two years before you met my dad and my brother Nicky. You- He, never met Rico or Tony." She felt him staring at her.

"Tony's the one who the DOD sent, right?" She nodded. "Two years, popped the question, I never met two of your brothers?"

"You'd talked to them on the phone, skyped a couple times, but not in person. You were supposed to come with me to meet Rico and his family when he was home on leave, but you were stuck in the Arctic on a project."

"So I still got my ass frozen off in that timeline too? Good to know some things stayed the same."

"Yeah." Jo tried to look anywhere that wasn't Zane. I almost lost him both times then.

Zane crossed his arms over his chest, and Jo tried not to notice his shirt pulling at his biceps. "So, what are we telling your brother?"

Jo slipped off her blazer and draped it over the couch. "Well, if he asks, I guess we're telling him you're my boyfriend. But only if he asks."

Zane smiled, and unbuckled his belt, slipping it off before shoving down his jeans. "Of course. I'm not looking to get a bullet in my head if I don’t have to."

[startwithbrooklyn]

THE GREAT ND REWATCH OF 2021 / SEPTEMBER 30, 2019 // larkspur lane/the whisper box

this post is a double whammy cause they have 2 eps happen in the same day if u can believe it (thats how awful judging timelines in this show is!!)

-"hi josh..." LMAOOOOOOO

-BESS just breaking in lmaooo how many god damn times does bess just shit the bed in this show

-LOVE her frowny face at nancys closet ("my expectations are low" lmfaoooo but this would totally be me)

-"bet she meant it metaphorically" okayyy but then why did lucy say that at all? i feel like theres defo more to this story, combined with josh's cagey behavior (part of which is to get nancy to stop looking into shit d/t him and karen but still)

-"they dont accept visitors unless they're family" .....🙂

-ace "youre really good at that" to bess i fuckin love this friendship with all my heart (also love their talk at the claw mirroring nick & nancys talk in the last ep)

-also PINK AND ORANGE BESS ARE U BLIND (also 1) why tf would nancy own this and 2) where would she wear it??)

-okay wtf is vampire dip

-"boss??" see this is what i meant yesterday about nancy ruining everything for nick/george

-god DAMN she sucks at dealing with this news lmaooo that emotional competency babey + love george literally agrees to help bc she feels bad (AND nicks immediate look of "you just reprimanded me for helping her last ep and i know why youre doing this rn" lmaoooo)

-LOVE george noticing nick "shout out to jean valjean" lmaooo once again nancy would never have noticed/commented on something like that

-"get the hell out of here" was this foreshadowing for an epic dad joke for these two eps? "how do you make holy water? you boil the hell out of it" 😂😂😂😂

-so what i dont get about the whole haunting is the ball + kids' laughter but its all the emphasis on "mr roper" the adult? wtf like what kind of entity is this

-"how did you ever have a solo career??" 😂

-okay amaya's hair is gorgeous here (also "you feel like a snack" ....👀) *ahhh so the reason bess feels so off balance is bc its like a top vs a top scenario

-has anyone who's ever been to prison confirmed this is what it looks like?

-love how ace is the only employee there when they all leave so he had to fucking close the place when he goes

-why does she take the whole file? time constraints? it'd be smarter to take pics + replace it (better sleuthing) but this place is clearly not well run anyway 😂

-so this is a pretty decent cover she invents but theres no way she would get away with it so easily for a real guard

-love how ace recognizes ryan's car (+ is able to find it by driving around)

-"my father wouldnt do anything like that" LMFAOOOOOO SIS WHY ARE U DEFENDING HIM ironically, ace is actually the best person suited to engage w ryan here d/t the car accident + connection with laura being ryans SIL. its a unique set up

-i am fascinated by the concept of priests + holy water being so effective here combined with mcginnis' beliefs and basically nondenominational ghosts/seances etc after that. the show is very clearly big on diversity but definitely steers clear from too much WASP stuff yk? wonder if other stuff from christianity works against the ghosts/demons like taking refuge in a church "holy ground" or using silver etc

-"did this start after the night of sept 10?" *this is where you get the time line for the seance if you didnt know

-this is so fucking funny when u realize that patient sal talks to is actually a ghost so sal really is psycho i guess 😂

-bitchsplain/tall jar of mayonnaise 🙏🏻😌 2gether 4ever

-how did ace get this van? also heart attack when he yells at carson (but then grins at him like a goofball lmaooo)

-"for nancys sake and yours" damn she owes ace big time for all this shit

-"what do we do for 7 minutes?" ...ummm play 7 minutes in heaven lmaooo 👀🥵

-was not expecting ace to look this sexy holding an axe but okay (*ah, its his short sleeve shirt showing his arms. usually hes a sleeves guy)

-"desperate for attention" nancy (from gomber) vs "bc she's starved for attention" patrice --> lucy (and candace also...) we know nancys detective work makes her seem like an attention seeker, but what was lucy doing to make them all think that? she was trying to hide her relationship with ryan, not expose it. unless they just mean the rumors about her?

-so is patrice hiding lucy's "truth" talking about lucy being a whore or lucy being a ghost? what is lucy's secret? did patrice guess she was pregnant or did patrice's somehow garbled mind remember tiffany trying to show patrice the video with lucy on it?

-wonder what captain thom thinks of this stand off w ace lmaooo

-"like you do?" top v top shenanigans

-how awko for carson to talk to karen again like this

-"oh no" ACE 😂

-love how amaya says "be a human" like shes kind of admitting people in rich circles typically arent (^this is an interesting focus in s2 when bess's rich family rejects her, thus making her human again, but nancy embraces her rich fam and experiences subsequent moral struggle which is predicted with the wraith)

-wonder what ryan thinks he could get from the marvins (which he cant get now lmaooo)

-this damn whisper box. so many questions. who named it the whisper box? why are the ropers' old possessions still there? who decided to build a mental hospital on top of it? and patrice! she "hid lucy's secrets" hannah gruen thinks tiffany tried to show patrice video w lucy on it, which patrice then specifically says she hid in the thin mans book. so patrice knows of the thin man? can she see him? does she know he was a ghost/supernatural? she must have a supernatural sense to know about him (unless sal told or some shit) so then when tiffany shows up w/ lucy being supernatural in it patrice hides it to protect her? is this why she is "crazy" kinda like victoria? supernatural elements or ability to sense ghosts makes her unstable? this is why lucy being a ghost/nursery rhyme that she repeats makes patrice worse/"stroke"? how did patrice even get into the whisper box to put the key in the bible and get out without getting trapped? also, her dementia --> lucidity is really fucking off, some people mildly switch like that but usually with dementia they cant even register new shit anymore

-...so did bess take the ride? 👀

-interesting how celia says "your father will be disappointed" but nothing of her own opinion. wonder how much celia truly puts up with to keep everett calm and nonhomicidal

-like george asking nick follow up questions that nancy never really would have asked

🥞🥞🥞(ep13)🥞🥞🥞

-is this bitch just eating a plain pancake with her bare hand?

-"extra case load and excessive volunteering" ugh. nancy's family here are like, gross in how "good" of people they are // unrealistic, trying to paint carson in the best light/ no way ryan could ever compare (but the reality is theyre not that good of people for lying about nancy) **and shes arrogant to think shes better than everyone else ie the only one who truly lives virtuously, thinks she can do no wrong sometimes even tho using sex to cope, breaking and entering, etc is not morally "good" stuff she still thinks she is the only one who doesnt lie and plays fair (like in the pilot she lists everyone else as a suspect but herself- obviously we know she isnt guilty but no one else does. (i mean in theory we really dont, what if nancy was an unreliable narrator and was actually guilty, that would be a hella cool show)its reactions like that where she cant understand why others like the chief suspect her

-ooooh ironic that in the Good Place carson readily agrees to pay her for helping with cases as opposed to s2 in reality

-nick's house has "problems" so why does he need a lawyer? as opposed to an interior designer, plumber, or realtor?

-in the Good Place nick and george realize they are not going to work out after one date. does this failure in the Good Place predict failure in reality, or merely an easier way of figuring out the truth? does this mean that the "opposite" of the Good Place is reality, or only an opinion of what is better? (nancy says "you all like me" as her opinion of them liking her is skewed; does this then only reflect nancys version for what is the "perfect life"?)

-why is bess a hippie??? and love how george curls her hair and wears pink lipstick here

-if this dream is so realistic then why is the one thing it cant conjure smoke? like how random

-love the locket being a key realization bc with things like jewelry you dont notice the weight of them until theyre gone

-"you all like me" in her perfect life nancy means they "like" her objectively/regardless of circumstance even though liking her is still an objective choice (like they "like" her because of other reasons instead of her working at the claw? (like how you make friends with coworkers/people at school every day but after you leave the job/graduate you never speak to them again) and her "thanks for showing up!" as if theyre not doing exactly that in reality 😐like where is she getting this shit? she sort of acknowledges in earlier eps she is hard to like/that she puts mysteries before friends, but also pushing them away to avoid danger like the previous ep "why do u show up" etc

-is it just me or does the inside of nicks "house" look like the drews'?

-nick has a dick scar lmaooooo (or more likely was hit in the balls or smth)

-love how nick + george match their anger in confronting sal 100% on the same level

-so when did ace go back to work after having such a busy day earlier?? lmaooo

-damn father shane is a creep (casting defo hired him for his voice) and how tf did he just poof + escape? and what did he request???

-love bess's white hair bow here 😌+ her jacket, whole outfit on point as usual

-like how bess is right that nancy has to find her way out but thats kind of a nonstarter for a room full of panicked people wanting to help

-in the Good Place theres no bad blood between drews + hudsons bc nancy is really theirs

-"the only one who has the key is you" in the Good Place nancy has the key (smaller picture, to finding out what happened to lucy but bigger picture, post-reveal) but ryan has the clues nancy needs- following the Good Place's mirroring, this just means that in reality ryan will either be completely useless or an active hindrance (but you KNOW this is a dream bc in what universe would ryan remember clues like that 😂)

-so in a perfect universe ryan acknowledges his family's "criminal empire" as opposed to reality where he only makes under cover jabs about disengaging with being an "entitled corrupt legacy criminal" ie finding the bonny scot relics but does nothing about them, etc

-"strippers" 😂

-okay what is nancys obsession w her beanie?? bc her mom made it? "wear beanies do crimes?" idk

-making the call: nancy -unable to make up for lost time/both her mothers had to find out/suffer alone / in the Good Place nancy was able to be with kate while she called, and in reality she had carson; somethig about seeing the mother looking to the daughter for strength in the Good Place instead of the reverse (which is what reality sounded like, kate being strong for nancy through the illness despite the struggle)

-concept: nancy & nick "let's wait out the storm"

-"i believe that you believe it" nick in the Good Place + owen in reality both trust nancy when she says she's seen things (owen's is the teeth) but nick in reality (and not really knowing details) doesnt think much of their "moment" bc it wasnt real (so she had to leave the Good Place to save carson- but if she had known then he wasnt her real dad, would she have stayed to be w nick?)

-stranger - suede james 💙👌🏻

-"really anxious as a kid" v telling bc of her desire to know everything to remain in control of situations like she always does now

-"the medicine or the metaphysics?"/"you cannot beat supernatural with science"

-i love nancy playing with her pinky while saying goodbye 🥺

-"always seek out the truth even if it hurts" this is straight irony bc kate never told nancy anything. like does that include the truth about nancys parentage? they taught her to seek out the truth, but who taught her that the truth is the only thing to live by? ie things dont count anymore like carson and kate straight up raising her is tossed out bc she finds out its not "the truth" like all that work/stress to protect carson + she just drops him? with kate maybe shes just upset thst she spent all that time mourning for someone who lied. and would she do the same to ryan if needed? probably

-bess and ace head tilt 💙

-like how for all the time she spent there nancy only has a subconscious memory of blue curtains

-YESSSSS i LOVEthese beautiful overhead shots of hannah's hands. so out of character for the show lmao but so gorgeous

-i feel like future eps/grand future will be nancy going through the lock boxes to help people who asked hannah for help

-the video is officially dated Aug 22, 2019

-soooooo in the first ep nancy breaks into the hudsons house and finds tiffanys secret drawer w the nail polish and finds the amulet with a note that says "for your protection HG" yet on this video tiffany says she talked to a medium who gave her the amulet sooooo am i just confused? HG is hannah gruen obvi so is the address for the medium what hannah gave her? or was the address on the amulet which nancy dissolved in salt water to see? so how would tiffany know where to go? its chicken and the egg which came first hannah or the medium?

and lastly:

i close these two eps with a thought that everything in this show is sealed in death. all the lies, the imagery, the fake constructs people put up to get by all crumple the second someone dies- all the secrets come clean just like these doors have been unsealed.

[julies-butterflies]

I must admit, sometimes I do feel like a ye olden solider, sending letters to my beloved across the waves during wartime. Oh my dearest Lydia, I hope the kudos and comments crops have been plentiful this season. Your last letter left me weeping. Why must you put poor Reginald through such pain?

(I gotta admit, I still can't believe that I'm talking to you. I've been looking up to your work for so long...it just feels a bit surreal, even now! Glad you like hearing my ramblings! And that you liked my vampire prompt! Did not realize you'd write back when I sent that in. Look at us now, huh?)

(Speaking of prompts, I sent those jukebox and willex ones too. And I loved them both so so much, I shall scream about them more when it is not 2 am because I need sleep)

(Oh and the update of If I Was You!!! Amazing, Stellar, Incredible, Reggie, Carrie, Julie shenanigans is my new favorite thing, DID YOU JUST DOUBLE THE CHAPTER COUNT, and I'm like 90% sure Trevor is in deep trouble with a certain angry jazz ghost. Seriously loving it)

I actually do not remember what it was like to send in 1/5 asks, because I did not get a Tumblr until very reccently! I've always been a nerdy person, but Jatp is my first time being really in a fandom. You gotta do something new in quarantine, right?

Ah yes. Luke and Emily. To me, it just seems obvious that there's so much love between them. Even with all the pain. You get it. You put it down so eloquently.

As for what kind of stories I like to read...it seriously depends on my mood.

I like niche aus, passion projects. Stories where you can just feel the author's love for the world they're inventing. But I tend to lean towards cannonverse. I like ghost stories, it's what drew me to this show in the first place. And I love exploring that concept. (Being forever gone, and always the same...it's just fascinating to me)

Platonic goodness is just WONDERFUL for this show. I will read anything with cuddles. I am touched starved and these kiddos are too, and I will cry about them puppy piling every damn day. Plus there's just some much POTENTIAL for future friendships! I love ones where Flynn and Carrie get to interact with the boys as well. And 90s content, from before and after the orpheum, just hits hard.

I really wasn't expecting to get invested in the couples on this show, but something about them is moving to me. So I do love to read about them. Watching two queer kids who lived during incredibly important areas of queer history find love together after death really hit hard for me, and there's just something so bittersweet about a girl and ghost deciding to love each other for the little time they're given.

I love family dynamics too. Anything with Ray and his seven disaster children, the band and Trevor.... I think Julie and Emily is one of my favorite dynamics to explore. A girl who lost her mother and a mother who lost her son, both grieving but with one able to speak to the dead...it's just very powerful to me.

(And of course, Luke and Emily, but I figured you already knew that)

Mostly...I like seeing the messy stuff. The unexpected consequences, the baggage. I want to see the messy emotions, the grief and anger, the jealously, the disorientation. I look for those glass shards, that might be too sharp to ever be addressed on the show. Not even the big, monumental plot lines just... the harder pieces of life, the little moments that don't fit neatly into a nine episode arc.

I just want to see them live you know? Love, laughter and loss all mixed together.

(One of my all time favorite tropes is "found family gets broken apart by trauma, only to find each other again and come back stronger than ever." I feel like this explains a lot of my taste in fiction)

Thank you for the writing advice. Your words were very motivating. I am trying to begin! I got up the nerve to start working on a little piece. Who knows if it will go anywhere. But it's been nice, to finally put some words on the page.

The POTC au is so freaking good man. The character dynamics are just on FIRE. Everything is broken and messy and the relationships genuinely tug at my heartstrings. It's such a fascinating story. Highly recommend, even with the cliff hangers.

OH HOW COULD I FORGET PAWPRINTER? Man oh man I love all her work. The wheelies art and steals universe is freaking amazing, not an avacado had me in tears (of laughter, till things got surprisingly sad). And All that Remains...slow burn Willex perfection. Jedi Alex and Pilot Willie have my HEART.

I don't think I've read firefall and weneedglitter (or if I have, I'm just not connecting the names to their pieces. I don't always remember author names. it's a problem). I will go look for them though! Cannot wait!

For more recs, I recently binge read We Found Wonderland. I was not mentally prepared for the sheer amount of feelings that gave me. Highly recommend, if you ever want an emotional rollercoaster with an incredibly satisfying end.

Going on to more serious subjects...I'm sorry your family doesn't see your grief for what it is: honest. Better to feel everything quietly, than make it an easily understadnable performance. Fake grief is so easy to spot.

I think of that scene from "Forever," when Buffy breaks down and tells Dawn that she has to keep busy, because if she stops, it means Joyce is really gone. There's a lot of truth there.

On a tangent here but.. there was a very long period in my life when I was told the ways I expressed my emotions were "incorrect". And I found that sometimes, no matter how you show your emotions, you'll always be criticized. Numbness can be called disinterest, but sobbing can be called attention-seeking too. Too big, too small: that jury was impossible to please This may not apply in your situation but...it's okay to feel however you can. It's the only think you can do, really.

As I've said before, Grief is such an odd trickster.

Don't you ever get tired of missing people... This past year, I've been so weary of grief. Sometimes it can be so sharp, but it's that dull ache. That ball and chain, no longer cutting through your skin, but rubbing it raw, weighing you down.

And people don't like to talk about that part, because it's long and tiresome, but oh, is it there. I find it hard to talk about my grief, because sometimes there's just so much of it. I could drown in it, and that fear keeps me from looking to close. To incorrectly quote Jane Austin: "If I missed you a little less, I might be able to talk about it more."

(Sometimes it's faceable. But sometimes you just can't bear it. And that's okay.)

But what you wrote in that eulogy...the love is there. It's in every word you write. I cried reading that section. I feel honored once again to see some of your jagged pieces. You're sharing your heart, and there's just so much love.

In the wise words of an author I know, "Love is like the snow Reggie. It never goes away."

And don't worry, I'm always with you.

Sending Love,

-LydiaStan7845 (aka Vampire Anon)

So...that Reggie and Nicky prompt

my god

my GOD

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

I think it's safe to say congrats, you've officially destroyed me! I was not prepared for that at ALL. I should know better by now I guess.

I can't get over that even though they all take place in very different universe, all your stories just feel so connected! The way this talked about those headphones, which you mentioned in the first chapter of Kill Your Heroes...it's just so cool. All the characterization and backstory is just so well thought out, and it genuinely blows my mind.

I didn't think I could love Nicky Peters more. I was wrong. The way you write about him...even though you never go into exactly what happened to him after Reggie's death, you can just feel how much it's shapped him as a person. And the trauma around his father, and how he fears becoming like that, was just so beautifully written. He's just so lovable and flawed and trying so damn hard and you made my heart ache for him. Again.

You always take these genuinely crazy situations and...you just make them feel so real. I love you explore the strains such a revelation would put on Nicky's own life, it just makes everything so compellingly messy. It seriously feel like I was watching a real-life account of a family trying to deal with such a massive complication.

That porch scene had me in tears both times I read it. Reggie's just always a big brother, even though Nicky is more than twice his age now. My heart was shattered, and then you slowly mended it, piece by piece. And for absolutely no reason at all, you wouldn't happen to have a reference for the porch, would you?

Just wow. Hope you're doing well. Sending love and applause

-Vampire Anon

i’m not even gonna reply, but i want these documented... on my blog... for posterity.  ( for any curious onlookers, i’m dating this anon now!! )

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Blood Red Heat prt 40

For the last night planet side, the pack had piled into Green for a sleep over. Krolia, Allura, Romelle, and Coran, all invited, even if they didn’t feel what their pack felt. Sitting between Hunk’s legs, Hunk was helping Lance keep up with the weird card game he and Pidge had tried to invent that was somewhere between poker and uno. Coupled with Pidge, the three of them had crushed Keith and Shiro, who didn’t actually know the rules of the game. Keith’s alpha struggling seeing Lance seated between Hunk’s legs, but he’d managed to keep his temper with how happy Lance seemed to be. They’d all noticed it now, the pauses and the weakness. Coran had suggested a group walk out to where they’d found a wide piece of stream that was better for water collection that further down and closer to camp, Lance stubbornly tried to keep up the “relaxed pace” Coran had set, his hand on Kosmo for support . When Lance had stumbled, Hunk had thrown himself down dramatically with an exaggerated sigh and demanded a time out from training. Pidge caught on quick, their gremlin also asking for a break.

Upon seeing so much water, Lance had wanted to go swimming. Coran having to be the one to break it to him that swimming wasn’t advisable as they had to boil the water for drinking due to some potential parasite. Sitting on the bank of the stream, Lance had told him all about growing up surfing. Keith had never been surfing. Living in a land locked state would do that to you. Lance promised to teach him when they finally got back home, explaining how his next oldest brother was totally a grommet... whatever that was. Keith was simply happy to hear Lance talk so enthusiastically about something he clearly loved. It was then that Lance decided to also tell him about his older sister Veronica who worked at the Galaxy Garrison. Lance might love his siblings, yet the way he talked about Veronica, it was clear she was the one he was closest to out of the brood...

The alpha feeling semi-bad that he couldn’t recall Lance’s family from all their forced upon mind melding. He wished he could keep up with it all. Lance taking his silence the wrong way, apologising for “rubbing his family in his face”. Maybe he had, but Keith wanted to know. He wanted to make sure he didn’t make a fool of himself when he finally told Lance’s family that he had the honour of courting him.

Scrunching his face as up as he went cross eyed at his cards Lance was being cute again, Keith ducked his head to cover the slight blush setting in. Not missing anything, Shiro nudged him with his elbow, whispering in his ear

“Quick, Lance breathed, you better blush”

His brother could go jump

“Fuck off. Like you and Adam were any better”

“Hey, we raised a kid together, we were allowed to be gross. We needed each other with how often you got in trouble”

“It wasn’t always my fault, you know”

“I do. He seems happy”

Throwing a card down, Lance craned his neck to look back at Hunk who nodded supportively

“He is. He still has his moments, but the game really did knock out the hardest part of the apology”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who apologised as much as him. Is there any way to get him to stop?”

Keith snorted, if Lance praised him any more, or apologised for something not his fault one more time, his brain might just short circuit

“Try dating him... You love to apologise for everything, don’t you, babe?”

Lance wasn’t listening until he heard “babe”, worry coming to his face as he tilted his head

“Hmm?”

“I said you love to apologise”

Lance seemed unsure, hesitantly nodding, but trusting Keith

“I’m not going to apologise for kicking your butt”

“You’re not going to show me any mercy, are you?”

“Nope... not even if you’re my alpha”

Shooting Lance finger guns, Keith grinned stupidly thinking himself smart

“That’s my omega”

Lance groaning as he blushed. Pidge and Hunk both shocked he’d ever shoot anyone finger guns

“Babe, nooooo”

“I think you mean, “Babe, yessss””

Pidge rolled her eyes at them, surprisingly she was still quiet quite with her teasing, sometimes it took her a moment or two to reword what she was going to say, this time she was straight to the point

“Let Lance keep his finger guns... It doesn’t look right when you do it”

Keith pouted, huffing

“There’s nothing wrong with my fingers”

Lance choked on thin air. Keith blushing hard as he tried to fix what he said

“I didn’t mean it like it! I mean they work and they do their job! Babe, help!”

Shiro patted him on the shoulder

“Keith, kiddo, brother of mine, please just stop”

“I’m... you guys suck”

Continuing their game a little longer, Lance dropped his cards as he rubbed at his head. Hunk casting a worried look to Keith, who placed his cards down and crawled over to his omega. Krolia and Coran both on edge in case there was something wrong. Allura and Romelle stopping their gossip session of how Altea of the old had been. Feeling Lance’s forehead, Hunk gave a small shake of his head, Lance not feverish

“Babe, you okay?”

“Red says it’s time I was asleep... I dun wanna sleep. I think I’m finally getting this”

“Wanna come give me a cuddle for bit then? Maybe you can teach me how to play?”

Lance reached for him, the pack adjusting around them so Lance could sit in his lap and still be included in what was happening. Thinking he was whispering, his boyfriend failed hard

“I don’t think Pidge and Hunk know how to play... I’m so confused”

Hunk and Pidge both groaned. Hunk, shaking his head

“Honestly I think I’ve had enough. Do you want to try fish instead? We all know Pidge cheats at poker”

“It’s not my fault I’m graceful and charming”

When no one immediately agreed, Pidge kicked Keith in the ankle, Shiro chuckling

“She is style. She is grace...”

Lance adding on, as if this “song” was a “well known thing”

“But mess with her and it’s a foot to the face, or her little gremlin fangs in your ankle”

Pidge smiled proudly at Lance, wiping a fake tear from her eye

“Awww, dude, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said”

“I do try to be nice”

Shiro reached over to ruffle Lance’s hair. This was what pack nights had been like before he’d left, only now he had Lance and it seemed a thousand times better for it

“We know, kiddo. You going to play, or do you want to watch?”

“I wanna watch... You guys should teach Coran”

Introducing Coran to “fish”, Coran started explaining the aquatic animals that’d called Altea home. He wasn’t sure why humans called it “fish”, and seemed to think they should all have tiny little rods for picking up the cards. Too preoccupied teaching Coran, Hunk, Pidge, and Shiro, failed to notice as Keith slowly drew out of playing to watch with Lance. Hands holding each other’s, as his omega started to doze off in his arms. The game would have continued if Lance hadn’t accidentally kicked his leg out, knocking the pile of cards over as he sighed in his sleep. Lance had always been a heavy sleeper, once he got to sleep, Keith content as a human pillow as Pidge collected up the cards. Shiro being the responsible “Space Dad”

“We really should call it a night”

Hunk smiled at his best friend, probably happy to be free from Coran’s story

“I’m pretty tired, I think Lance has the right idea”

Pidge nodded her agreement, ignoring Coran’s pouting at the game coming to an end

“Mhmm... I could sleep. It’s been ages since we did anything like this as a pack”

Between their night under the stars and the day spent triple checking everyone had everything and rations were fairly divided, Keith felt it too

“It’s nice. You guys got all your bedding?”

Pidge answered for all of them

“Yep. We made sure we had everything before we started playing cards. We even set you and Lance up with your own bed”

There was mischief in Pidge’s tone, Keith not surprised at all

“Thanks for that... but we’re probably going to crash right here. He’s already completely zonked out”

“Fiiiiine, put all our hard work to shame. I dibs sleeping closest to Lance”

Hunk immediately spluttered

“I’m his best friend”

“You got to cuddle him all night. We all need pack time, Hunk”

Hunk sighed

“Fine. Next time I’m sleeping next to him”

“We’ll see. Shiro, you good?”

“I’m going to use the bathroom before everyone else. Keith, you need a hand?”

“Nah. I’ve got him. I’ll save brushing my teeth for the morning”

Pidge wrinkled her nose up

“I swear I’ll shoot you if you come at me with your morning breath”

“I’ll save it just for you, Pidgeon”

Their bantering continued as everyone got ready around him and Lance. The floor of Green not the best bed, but he did have the best cuddle mate in the pack. For Romelle and Krolia this was new experience, Coran had taken to watching over the pack when they’d had their sleep overs, falling asleep upright on the castle sofa as the rest of them slept close. Now Coran was sleeping near Allura and Romelle, with Krolia the one choosing to take the position of silent guardian. His mother really didn’t get how pack dynamics worked, but she was prepared to accept that this was what they all needed right now. His mother so thoroughly his mother that as she watching, she was oiling her blade. As everyone settled in, Green’s lighting switched to emergency lighting, filling the space with a soft glow. Hunk mumbling

“Pidge, I need the light on”

“Don’t look at me, that was all Green. I think Green agrees with Red that it’s past our bed time”

Black nudged into Keith’s mind, his own lion also in agreement. It’d be hard having to pilot Black away from Lance, but Krolia, Romelle, Allura, and Coran all agreed they were happy to swap having shifts in Red so Lance and Kalternecker would never be left alone

“Yeah, Black’s telling me we should be sleeping. What about Blue and Yellow?”

Allura giggled happily

“Yes, I do believe our lions have all ganged up against us”

“Maybe there as anxious as we are to get back out there?”

A pillow flew over Keith’s head, hitting Shiro, as Pidge grumped

“Personally, I could sleep for a month and that still wouldn’t be enough”

Keith snorted. Pidge was forgetting the one thing that made her more excited than anything else

“Now, now Pidge. Your dad probably has all sorts of new tech waiting for you”

Pidge spluttered, still thinking of her witty reply as Lance snuggled closer to Keith, letting out a loud rumbling content purr that they all heard. Hunk asking

“Dude, was that Lance?”

“Yeah. He’s got a good purr on him”

“I’ve never heard him purr like that before”

Pidge’s pillow was lobbed back over his head, Keith assuming she’d caught it as she didn’t complain about being hit. Closing his eyes, Keith buried his face against Lance’s back. Lance liked being the big spoon, yet seeing he was sleeping, Keith got to be big spoon, which the alpha preferred seeing it didn’t end up with Lance having a face full of his hair

“That’s because he’s all snuggled up with Keith. Don’t you two do anything gross in Green or I’ll kick you both out”

“Shut up. We’re not that gross”

“I’m just saying, we’re already hunting for a sun and if I see something I don’t want to, I might just yeet myself into it”

As Keith mentally sighed, Coran seemed to think now was the time to join in

“Not in Green you won’t. She’s a fine lion who deserves more than that. I’m sorry, Pidge, but I must insist you not do this “yeeting” of which you speak”

Pidge huffed, though her scent showed no trace of actual annoyance

“Look, now you made Coran cranky”

Keith trying to sound as deadpan as possible

“Oh no. Whatever shall we do?”

“Kosmo will teleport me over at the first sign of a potential yeet. You kids need your sleep”

There was a choruses of “Yes, Mum”, Krolia probably hadn’t expected to suddenly be called “mum” by all of them. She didn’t have a smart reply to that. Still, it was nice. To have his whole pack there, and for them to accept his mother, and his mother to accept Lance... all of it so damn nice that he could cry... but he wouldn’t. He loved his pack, for all its weirdness. They really were, and would forever be, his family.

** Three Years Later**

Lance had stood by Keith’s side for all of it. From coming back to Earth, to kicking the Galra off their home planet, to showing up wearing what seemed to be a full set of saucepans because Coran had been talking to him about Altean courting customs, Keith helping his omega unpan himself as they’d watched the sunset sitting atop black. Things hadn’t been easy. Lance nearly dropping when his second heat had come, due to the trauma before his first heat.

When Altea and Diabazaal had come back into existence, and with Honerva and Sendak both finally as dead as they deserved, slowly their pack dynamic had changed as they all sought their own paths. For Lance and Keith it’d been time on Earth, helping Lance’s family reestablish their farm in Cuba. Keith really didn’t like the first time he’d been invited to dinner by Lance’s Mami Miriam. The woman quick to share so many embarrassing stories about his omega. Lance shaken, but bold enough to stand up for himself and ask her to stop. His boyfriend talking him out to see Plant City, as most of the refugee families had been there at the time. Their time on Earth feeling like one big arse term at the Garrison. Keith finding himself “the future” as Lance had called him. Being the first Human-Galra, and the Black Paladin of Voltron, Keith found himself thrust into the spotlight that he’d never wanted.

For a time Lance worked with the Blades to help rebuild Diabazaal, as well as working as Earth’s ambassador to Altea. Coran refused to have it any other way. Lance was there for all of them. When Shiro had learned about the loss of Adam, it was Lance who kidnapped the pair of them from the awkward wake held for all the heroes lost when the Galra attacked. They wound up on some shitty beach in the middle of nowhere, but somehow that was everything Shiro needed. It was also Lance who helped to encourage Shiro to find happiness with his new boyfriend Curtis. Slowly as things had settled, Lance picked up teaching on Altea. His omega such a natural with the children that “laughed at his funny ears”.

Getting a call out of the blue from Coran, Keith broke every rule regarding wormholing off of Diabazaal. The stupid Blades had needed him for some stupid stealth mission. Keith well and truly over pockets of resistance that kept popping up trying to bring back Zarkon’s legacy. As far as Keith knew, Lance was on Earth. One of the perks of Pidge working at the Galaxy Garrison was the new gun tech coming out of the place. Lance had only been joking about being her official tester, yet almost every time Pidge upgraded some kind of gun, Lance would be the first one she’d call to her lab, even when the damn thing didn’t work, and the facility went onto lockdown because they’d tripped the fire alarms... He was supposed to be on Earth, with Pidge, and Pidge’s somewhat scary mother Colleen, planting a new crop of something or other resistant... Honestly, he still didn’t get farming talk, but Lance was meant to be in Cuba and now he was on Altea on that wasn’t okay, especially not when Coran had told him to come straight to main medical centre.

Landing on Altea, Keith flicked off the engines of his pod, out the thing before it’d finished spooling down, still in his Blade stealth suit, or his “onesie of justice” as Lance called it, as he bolted for the medical centre. Alarmed Alteans had no clue what was going, Keith nearly smacked into the glass doors, narrowly barrelling through the with only catching his shoulder instead of taking out the door frame. Hitting the admin desk, the Altea behind gave a small squeak as she rolled back

“Where’s Coran?!”

Timidly the woman pointed him down the hall to the left, Keith taking off jogging. Instinctively he wanted to keep running, yet Lance would smack him for running in a hospital.

Finally finding Coran, the alpha grabbed Coran by the shoulders. He wanted to shake an explanation out of him, but first he had to catch his breath

“Keith, my boy!? What a pleasure to see you again...”

“Lance... where’s Lance...”

“Uh, yes! Now...”

“Coran, don’t tease him! Keith, I’m okay”

Coran was kind of shoved slightly backwards as Keith tore away from the Altean, darting into the room he’d been standing in front of. Sitting on the bed, his omega looked exhausted as Keith rushed over to him. Wrapping his arms around Lance, the alpha let out a shaky breath. Yeah. He’d gotten a bit better with his rashness and impulse control, but that always went out the window when it came to Lance. Scrambling to tear his mask off with one hand, he didn’t want to let his omega go

“Babe... thank fuck...”

Chuckling softly, Lance smiled at him as Keith forced himself back to see his omega’s face

“Are you okay? I thought you were in Cuba. Coran messaged me that you were here...”

“And you came running... Babe, I’m okay. Something Coran should have told you”

Scrunching his brow, Lance being “okay” only made him confused

“I... if you’re okay, what are you doing here?”

“I... uh, started feeling ill. So I came for a check up... and hold on, let me show you...”

Pouting at Lance letting him go, his omega fished something out his pocket, Keith had no idea what the hell it was... until he was passed it

“You might want to be careful, I pissed on it”

Pee... on a stick... oh... oh... OH! What... how...

“Babe...?”

Lance snorted, then kind of sobered. His omega had to be terrified. Even with all the tech they had, he’d still had so many issues with everything growing and settling. Lance’s chances of contraception raising, but severely damaged by his red heat

“Don’t worry, I have a stack of them at home... I wanted to get it confirmed. Coran wasn’t supposed to freak you out”

Stabbing Lance less than romantically in the eye as he took his omega’s face in his hands, Keith’s heart was racing

“And... are... you...?”

“Yeah. We haven’t done an ultrasound, but... blood test and a quick examination confirmed it. I put off coming when I first started feeling sick... but today I started throwing up and it... yeah. I must have brought every test in the shop... I know... we didn’t think and... I’m sorry...”

No fucking way was Lance apologising for this. This was best news he’d had since Shiro and Curtis got engaged. Kissing his omega happily, Lance relaxed into the kiss, stick still right up against his eye.

Behind Keith, there was the sound of a party popper, confetti falling over their heads. For a moment Keith panicked, Bob and his fucking game show haunted him for a long time, so, for an instant, he thought he was back there. Instead, as he whipped his head around around and moved to protect Lance, Coran was beaming at the pair of them. Incriminating party popper remains still in hand

“Oh, I’m so proud of you, my boys!”

Knowing the cause of his distress, Lance tugged on his arm until Keith turned back to him

“You know he’s been addicted to them since Shiro first told him how to use one. I’m okay, tired, kind of nauseous, but I’m okay. Are you?”

Relaxing under his omega’s calming scent, Keith was very very okay...ish. God. He was nervous more than anything... The way Lance stared at him... even after three years, his omega sent his heart all funny

“Yeah. Yeah, babe... a pup... we’re having a pup of our own”

“We are... I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up, but... fuck... I said I wouldn’t cry...”

“Sweetheart, I think I’m crying too...”

Yeah. No. He definitely was... This was actually happening... This was finally happening for them, not that they had been trying, but they hadn’t exactly not been either. Shiro knew all about from making the mistake of walking in on them after one particular tedious briefing. Shyly, his omega asked

“So... you’re... this is... okay?”

“Oh, I’m very okay”

“Good, because this baby and me, we’re both gonna need our big strong alpha”

Inside his alpha was screaming with pride. He was going to be a dad. Lance was going to be a dad. They were going to be dads...

“You and our pup... you’re going to be so loved you won’t know what to do”

Both of them were messes, the pregnancy stick finally dropped as they nuzzled into each other until it was impossible to tell who’s tears were who’s. Lance letting out a barked laugh at the state of them. They might have grown plenty, but no matter how many years had passed, you only had to put them together and they turned into emotional idiots

“Now, yes, well, Lance came for a scan today, perhaps you’d be so kind as to let me patient lay down?”

Giddy, Lance giggled. Both their scents were kind of making Keith giddy too

“Coran begged me to let him do the scan. I think our Space Uncle is excited for us. He probably now knows more about my condition than anyone...”

“If you trust him, you know I trust him...”

“I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t. You’re the second to know... well, third. The man at the store probably suspected with all the tests I bought...”

“When do we tell the others?”

“When we know both me and this little one are going to be okay... which we won’t know until Coran does the scan”

“Oh, I guess I better let you lay down”

“Yep... you have no idea how much water I had to drink for this scan, you better not keep me waiting any longer”

That didn’t sound fun... Everything anything to do with birth, and male omega’s, came out of Lance’s various appointments and therapy sessions... however, he didn’t need a fancy education to know having to pee sucked

“I promise I’ll never keep you waiting again”

Humming sweetly, Lance would never not be the most amazing and sweetest omega he’d ever met. A pup with his big blue eyes... His heart was melting at the thought of them

“Mmm. I might just have to hold you to that, but first, let’s meet our baby...”

He was never going to tire of hearing that. Their baby. Theirs... made by them...

“Our baby...”

*

The novelty never had worn off, no matter how many times he told everyone and anyone repeatedly. No matter how many times Lance teased him about all their friends knowing. Keith was proud as quiznak right up to the birth, and prouder even still when he finally got to hold their first pup in his arms.

[salmonthestoryteller]

RNM Spec - Long Family

RNM Are the Longs Aliens?

So I have some new Roswell spec. (I know, we have a long wait until season 3. That means you can expect random new thoughts from me that get progressively outlandish, so be prepared.)

So tonight I'm bringing you - What if the Long Family is part alien and related to Evil Max/The Stowaway/Mr Jones? (I really can’t keep writing all that out, so for the rest of this, I’ll simply refer to him as The Stowaway.)

I will attempt to render what made me question this into a cohesive meta.

So, a lot of this spec comes down to two factors - the continued importance of The Long Family in the RNM verse and the Alien Symbol that is Max's tattoo.

Let's start with factor one - The Long Family Importance.

From various conversations, apparently I am the only one bothered by there being 3 murder victims in the mystery that started us all off in the RNM universe but only having 2 of the deaths be connected to anything significant in the series. And it does bug me because why have 3 original murder victims at all if one is completely ignored? Why bother to invent Jasmine in the first place and then proceed to completely ignore her existence? She even has a last name - Frederick - but she might as well be Murder Victim #2. Part of the reason this bugs me is because of the Long family importance in the series. If Kate's family was equally unimportant, leaving the focus on Rosa it wouldn't seem strange to me that Jasmine's death is largely ignored. But instead, the Longs are continually brought up throughout the series. In a way, the fact that Jasmine’s family is never brought up accents how important the Longs are made.

We start that by introducing Wyatt Long and revealing he is Kate's brother as early as episode 2. We then are told how rich the family is as early as episode 3 (Actually, that might still be episode 2 now that I think about it). Then Wyatt is used by Noah to kill Grant Green and attempt to kill Liz. Followed by him being the one to draw the symbol so Cam can bring it to Max’s (and the audience's) attention.

Their significance continues to grow in Season 2. Wyatt returns, and then we're Introduced to Forrest. A random banner even shows the audience the family is involved in the town politics, supporting a Mayoral candidate. Then they are even made important in the flashbacks - their barn is what burned down; their farm is where Nora and Louise hid. Neither of which is a true necessity.  What does it matter that it was the Long Farm? Why make Forrest a Long?  Why not simply introduce a different family and have Forrest be their descendant since the family that owns the farm is never shown? It would make no change to the story as we know it so far if it was a different family. So why do they continue to spotlight the Longs?

I feel like all of this has to be leading us somewhere in the plot. Wyatt is a minor antagonist overall, so why is the importance of the Long family in the RNM universe being drilled continuously into the audience?

That brings me to factor #2: The Alien Symbol/Max's (& Michael's now) Tattoo

We end Season 1 believing/knowing these facts:

Max has a tattoo of it on his shoulder

The symbol was on an unknown dead female alien's hand

Michael drew the symbol all over the walls of the group home when they were children

Max makes the symbol appear on Isobel's pod by touching it

A random alien used to leave it in her wake on the reservation

Wyatt Long draws it after being mind-controlled by an alien (who we are later led to believe is Noah)

Noah (controlling Isobel) draws the symbol exactly once while talking to Rosa

Noah claims it's a map

But in Season 2, the meaning of the symbol begins to morph:

Michael never drew the symbol - it was always Max

It was no random alien on the reservation, it was Louise

At no time do we witness the symbol left behind by any other alien in the flashbacks - not even Louise

The symbol is the lock to the prison trapping The Stowaway

It takes three aliens to unlock the lock marked with that symbol

Noah could never have known about that lock - he was sealed in his pod when The Stowaway would have been locked up on Earth

As of the end of Season 2, the symbol that started in Season 1 as merely an alien thing, has grown less connected to all aliens. It has grown more and more connected to Max and The Stowaway.

That brings us to the question of - why was Wyatt Long drawing it? He is the only victim of mind control who does. Neither Isobel nor Maria ever draw the symbol while not controlled. Other than the one moment with Rosa, Noah never draws the symbol either. Nor does he ever create it with his powers. So why would that symbol be left behind by Noah in Wyatt's mind?

Unless it wasn't left by Noah at all. It was something Wyatt himself randomly drew, just like Max once did. And if that's true, then one possible explanation would be there is a connection between Wyatt and The Stowaway. A connection between the Long Family and The Stowaway. Such as Wyatt, and Forrest, being his descendants.

[majingojira]

Spider-Man Real-Time Aging Timeline

I’ve been asked to get on my crazy again with this, this time for Spider-Man. Well, here goes and boy, this is about to get WEIRD! A lot of this IS based on Spider-Man: Life Story, so if you are wondering about something, refer to that. 

Because there’s a LOT of Spider-Man events out there, I couldn’t include them all without going totally nuts.  If you have a question about them, ask!   Though beware, “The writers made that up” is a possible explanation.  1946 - Peter Parker, Mary Jane Watson, Jessica Drew, Luke Cage, “Flash” Thompson, and Gwen Stacy born.  1947 - Peter’s Parents die under somewhat mysterious circumstances. His Aunt May and Uncle Ben Parker take him in. 

1950 - Julia Carpenter born.  1962 - Peter Parker, 16 years old, invents a quick-drying temporary adhesive with properties similar to spider silk as an entry in a science fair (with hopes of catching someone’s eye to sell the invention to in order to aid his aunt and uncle).  Unfortunately, one of the other entries was a might volatile and explodes.  Peter is caught in the blast radius and injured.  Worse, while on the ground an escaped Tarantula bites his hand in its panic.  Peter recovers, but the incident was quite traumatic, and he associated everything that followed with that spider. 

When he recovers, he finds himself stronger, faster, and tougher than he was before, and more ‘aware’ of his surroundings.  Worse, he was ‘seeing’ things before they happened.  He doesn’t know what to do with these abilities at first but is inspired by seeing the masked wrestler El Santo perform on TV. He hits on the idea of fighting for money with a masked identity.  It goes rather well, but we know how this song and dance goes by now. 

After his, he invents gloves and boots to better help him climb across surfaces, as well as web-shooters for ranged entrapment.  He soon figured out web-swinging from there. And thus, Spider-Man was born!    But what did cause his powers to awaken?   It goes back a few hundred years. One of the greatest swordsmen of all time was a man named Zatoichi.  Upon learning of this man, one of the greatest criminal masterminds of all time (Fu Manchu) attempted to re-create this man’s skills.  This eventually led to the creation of the Nanjin, a sect of Warrior Monks who ritually blinded themselves to “See With the Heart”.  Over time, The Devil Doctor did his best to be eugenic about the subject, but random mutation is going to random. Peter Parker his the jackpot with his genes.  Upon suffering a horrendous injury, an epigenetic response kicked in and he became as they were--more in fact with an enhanced musculature and reaction time on top of it.   How strong is he?  Well, starting out, he was a very athletic human, far more so for his size and weight.  After fighting and working out for a few years, he could give some species of vampire a go without much problem.  Especially with his “spider-sense”.  

And yes, Daredevil is a trained Nanjin.  Obviously. 

Also, this year, Jessica Drew is the only survivor of a car crash into a chemical truck that kills her family.  With no one to watch her, she is kidnapped and experimented on by HYDRA.  1962-1966 - Many of Spider-Man’s classic rogues appear in this timeframe. Notable oddities about them based on what people assume are as follows: Vulture’s ‘flight harness’ was based on the old Doc Savage designed Rocket Pack, most famously employed by the Rocketeer (Cliff Seacord) back in the Late 30s/Early 40s; Otto Octavius is a Cthulhu Cultist; The Sandman is a person who absorbed a juvenile Founder/Changeling and gained some semblance of their shapeshifting abilities; The Lizard is likely tied to the experiments which created the “Alligator Man” of Bayou Landing (The Alligator People); Electro is one of several known “Electrical Mutants” -- people who were born with an electro-kinetic ability.  

1964 - Norman Osborn becomes the Green Goblin. 

1965 - Peter Parker meets Mary Jane Watson and Gwen Stacy. 

1966 - Flash Thompson goes to Vietnam.  

1969 - The death of George Stacy, Gwen Stacy’s Father. 

1972 - Giant-Size Spider-Man #2 - Spider-Man and Shang-Chi team up against Shang’s Father, Fu Manchu. 

Peter Parker marries Gwen Stacy. 1973 - Giant-Size Spide-Man #1 - Spider-Man tangles with (a) Dracula.

1974 - Giant-Size Spider-Man #3 - Spider-Man helps resolve a case started by Doc Savage in 1934.  

Flash Thompson comes back from Vietnam with a wife, Sha-Shan Nguyen-Thompson, but without his legs. 

Jessica Drew escapes Hydra’s indoctrination and tries to make headway as a hero on her own as “Spider-Woman”.  It does not go well. 

1975 - Marvel Team-Up #36-37 - Spider-Man meets Frankenstein’s Monster.  Superman vs. the Amazing Spider-Man - Spider-Man is tricked into fighting the legendary Superman by the machinations of Otto Octavius and Lex Luthor.  They eventually team up and stop the malcontents.  1976 - Jessica Drew decides to re-invent herself as the heroine “Jewel” since her powers really have very little to do with Spiders.  1977 - Professor Miles Warren’s plan of making Gwen Stacy his own via “cloning” is exposed by the ‘new’ Green Goblin, Harry Osborn.  Unfortunately, tat technology is over a decade away, and his “Clone” is more “Human Meat Puppet” and rather horrifying.  In the conflagration/confrontation, he and Gwen Stacy are killed.  Harry Osborn disappears for a time... Mary Jane Watson-Osborn and Peter Parker comfort each other over their mutual losses. 

Jessica Drew finds herself under the thrall of a mind-mage known as “The Purple Man.”  The thrall is eventually broken, but though she manages to recover, it leaves scars. 

1978 - Marvel Team-Up #79 - Thanks to a mystical malady, Spider-Man battles Kulan Gath, and things could have ended up badly for him, if not for the revelation that Mary-Jane Watson was a descendant of Red Sonja of Hyrkania.  Touching an artifact allowed the She-Devil to manifest in the present and aid Spider-Man in taking down her ancient foe. 

Spider-Man first encounters the blind seer Madame Web. 

Birth of Samuel Thompson to Flash and Sha-Shan Thompson.

Jessica Drew takes up two new identities, Knightress (for about 5 minutes) and Jessica Jones to distance herself from what happened. 

1980 - Marvel Treasury Edition #28 - Spider-Man manages to accidentally thwart the plans of Doctor Doom, to turn the monster known as Parasite into a massive energy storage device after it drained the life force from the Hulk, Superman, and Wonder Woman.  

Secret War - Spider-Man is one of the many people invited to this decade’s Mortal Kombat tournament.  Unfortunately for Shao Khan, so is Superman (Clark Kent), and he utterly wrecks the event, making the whole thing a wash, forcing Shao Khan to wait another decade to continue his win streak.  The monstrous being known as “Venom” follows Spider-Man from Outworld.  One of the people taken in by this is a survivor of “The Shop”, Julia Carpenter.  Taking a cue from Spider-Man, she dubs herself Spider-Woman (II).  

Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson marry. 

Mattie Franklin born. 

1981 -  Marvel Team-Up #111-112 - Spider-Man has a time-traveling adventure featuring King Kull, battling against Valusian Serpent-Men.   Marvel Team-Up Annual #5 - Spider-Man has more adventures with the Serpent-Men and their ancient enemies, Kull and Conan. 

1982 - The monster  “Venom” reveals himself. Its first host is Eddie Brock. 

May “Mayday” Parker is born.

1983 - The Venom creature spawns, creating the horror known as Carnage. It goes on to spawn more Symbiotes.  Jessica Jones has a child with Luke Cage (Daniel Cage) and later marries him.  1984 - Spider-Man and Batman: Disordered Minds - Spider-Man and Batman (III) team-up. 

Kraven’s Last Hunt occurs.

Cindy Moon, the grandaughter of Flash Thompson, born.  

1985 - Batman/Spider-Man - Batman and Spider-Man team up once again. 

1988 - Anya Corazon born. 

1990 - Julia Carpenter retires as Spider-Woman, Madame Web begins recruiting her as a replacement for herself. 

1991 - Richard Wentworth jr., the descendant of the pulp-era anti-hero known as The Spider takes to the streets, and takes umbrage with the ‘pretender’ that is Peter Parker. He and Peter clash several times over the next few years, and the comic industry uses the presence of a ‘second Spider” to inflate the “Clone Saga” to ridiculous levels. 

Thanks to developments from InGen being stolen when the company was liquidated in 1990, Efforts to Clone Spider-Man go forward under multiple groups. The results are nicknamed “Kaine” but artificial again technology doesn’t exist, so it wouldn’t bear fruit for many years. 

1993 - May Parker Sr. passes away. 

1995 - Richard Wentworth jr. goes to more volatile places around the world to sate his bloodlust. 

Miles Morales born. 

1996 - Gwen Stacy (II), niece of Gwen Stacy (via Gabriel Stacy) is born. 

Mattie Franklin, a half-demon with arachnid affinities decided to become “Spider-Woman”.  Her desire to prove herself causes quite a few problems. 

1998 - Mayday Parker has her first outing as Spider-Girl under her parent's noses.  After a few of these outings, she catches Mattie Franklin’s attention, who challenges her to a “Title Fight.”  Mattie loses and chooses to go by “The Scarlet Spider” for a time afterward. 

Benjamin Parker is born to Peter and Mary Jane Parker. 

Cindy Moon is identified by the Nanjin and is kidnapped for ‘training’ by them.  She ends up with a similar condition to Peter Parker. 

2000 - Peter Parker retires from being Spider-Man and working Biotech to become a teacher at his old High School. Mayday Parker takes over properly as Spider-Girl. 

2003 - Anya Corazon is kidnapped by the tattered remains of the organization known as Shocker and partly transformed into a quasi-magical cyborg super-soldier by them. She is rescued before she could be brainwashed by Kamen Rider (Kamen Rider Spirits).  She takes her new ‘gift’ and becomes known as “Arana”, though people often call her “The Other Spider-Girl” to both her and Mayday’s annoyance. 

2004 - Mattie Franklin dies battling drug-runners. 

2005 - Samuel Thompson becomes bonded to the “Venom” Symbiot (or a facsimile thereof) by the U.S. Government.  Dubbed “Agent Venom” he works with them as he furthers his military career.

Julia Carpenter takes over formally as Madame Web on the original’s passing. 

2009 - Miles Morales is bitten by a spider carrying an attempt to create a retroviral payload to make Nanjin Adepts.  He nearly dies from the venom, but it works -- with an added perk or two. 

2011 - Miles Morales becomes Spider-Man with Peter and May’s blessings. 

Kaine Parker reveals his existence to Peter, but more out of obligation, as he’d rather be left alone. He is not, thanks to mystical shenanigans.  Even moving to Huston doesn’t help in that regard.  He dubs himself “The Scarlet Spider”.  

2012 - Cindy Moon escapes the Nanjin order and goes to “Spider-Man” to help.  Mayday Parker does her best to get her settled after over a decade in isolation.

2013 - The “Ghost Spider” appears, and is eventually revealed to be Gwen Stacy (II), niece and namesake of the Gwen Stacy Peter knew.   She is ‘accepted’ by the family, but has been through quite a lot and is often chastised for making bad decisions. 

2018 - Miles Morales has his mind swapped with that of the extremely aged Otto Octavius via a dark ritual.  

2019 - Miles Morales is freed of Otto’s domination of his mind. However, the Grand-Nephew of Otto Octavius (name currently unknown) begins causing him problems, dubbing himself the “Superior Spider-Man.”