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ritens · 9 months

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[wf] Nothing Is As It Was 4. The Merge

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Another morning. Two individuals are treading war torn lands far north of Mariana on Earth. The place is a resurfaced dead zone, tedious to navigate with all the rotting algae-covered debris of aged architecture and unusable carcasses of land vehicles littering it. Wildlife is already showing signs of thriving here, but there’s little to no sign of civilization. At least not yet. This is perfect in Kyn’s opinion.

Many are scavenging for materials and trinkets left by the recently concluded war. But judging by the untouched state of the area, the operator has a feeling that they could run across something truly valuable.

Lane spends a good amount of time taking in the sensations that the area provides. He keeps looking in every direction, inspecting every object that they walk past, and touching everything that doesn’t seem too moist. He also makes note of how crisp the air has become compared to how it was about a month ago when he landed on Earth in the current timeline. Autumn is approaching.

The drifter closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and lets the gentle wind rattle him along with the horrid stench of the drying algae. With a scrunched up nose he opens his eyes again and picks up the pace to catch up to the taller figure in front. Kyn doesn't seem to mind. The operator has some idea about how exciting and new the Origin System and its ways might be to Lane. It’s gonna take an entire Earth year at the very least for the drifter to start calming down about things.

And he intends to do his part in making sure Lane’s acclimatisation goes smoothly.

Kyn had offered the drifter some help with finding a viable Warframe to use before Lane even had the chance to talk about it. And though the drifter was hesitant at first, he accepted the offer. Kyn seems like he knows what he is doing so Lane trusts him.

Lane shrugs and kicks the scrap out of the way, but not without letting out a small yelp for the metal turns out to be heavier and harder than it appears. He quickly but comically composes himself though.

“Could this work?” the drifter asks while pointing at a scrap of metal on the ground. Kyn glances back at the smaller man and his find.

“Nah. That’s landing craft trash. Warframes are built differently.” the operator explains.

“Warframes used to be human. At least the majority were in the olden days, I guess. I don’t know much about the new ones built in foundries of tenno orbiters.” Kyn tries to come up with something of an explanation. The concept of a warframe’s creation is an uncomfortable topic to him, one he’d prefer not thinking about too much. Luke is his favourite monster companion and that’s enough. He doesn’t need to know more unless Luke wants him to learn more. Then he’ll do it with gritted teeth.

“How are warframes built anyway? Luke is so human. I can’t imagine him being built at all. If there are no parent frames, and a warframe is not entirely artificial, then how does it work?” the drifter ponders out loud.

“And here I thought Luke explained it to you.” Kyn mumbles. He stops walking for a moment to pick up some porous rock. After a quick inspection, he tosses it over to Lane to carry in his satchel.

“Uh, used to be human? What happened? …The Orokin?” of course Lane has to ask. He briefly looks at the rock he put in the bag, thinking what could it be used for in a warframe’s creation process.

“The Orokin. Yeah.” Kyn bends down to pick up another piece of material lying in the muddy grass. “There was a whole project dedicated to creating warframes out of willing and unwilling subjects. They were infected with a specific strain of virus that turns their flesh into steel and what not. I don’t know all the details and I’d honestly rather not think about it. It’s not pretty.”

The drifter doesn’t press Kyn for more information despite new questions sprouting in his head like mushrooms after rain. Luke used to be human. What was he like before the change? Does he remember anything from his life back then? Was it painful? Does he have chronic pain now?

Wait. They’re going to create a new one now are they not?

The drifter and the operator look at each other for a quiet moment. Both of them are mulling over the ethics of what they have just discussed. The drifter’s shoulders drop.

“Are we going to kidnap someone to turn them into a warframe? Will we cook a living being in your foundry?” Lane recoils at his own words.

Kyn stops to stare at him in disbelief. “Fuck no. I don’t know. I don’t even have a proper foundry. We will fetch some mats and credits and send an order to someone who can craft a warframe for us.”

“I don’t want a warframe.” Lane states.

“Hm. You won’t survive well on your own. You can’t even wield the void.” Kyn walks up to Lane to place the new pair of materials in the other’s satchel. The drifter looks at Kyn’s own still empty bag but accepts the new batch of rocks without a word.

Neither of them are sure how to proceed with the conversation so for a while they continue walking silently side by side.

After navigating through a deeper than expected mud puddle they stop by a rusty old heavy-duty truck laying on its side. Kyn is relieved to not find any leeches on his legs. He also makes sure to inspect his travel partner’s legs. Lane has no idea what the operator is on about but goes along with it.

At first glance the old vehicle looks similar to cargo vessels commonly used by the corpus on Venus, but the angles of this one appear to be too rounded up to be corpus in design. There’s a cave-like hole in the underbelly of the truck. It’s covered by algae, seaweed and dead vines of some kind.

“This looks like it could come from an era long before the Golden Lords.” Lane comments as he pulls a knife from the sheath on his hip and begins cutting the rotting junk away from the cave. It comes off easily enough.

Kyn watches the drifter work in silence. It’s a familiar, nostalgic sight to the operator. He and Luke visited a cave once. The cave where Luke had woken up and brought online Kyn’s transference connection. Kyn then spent possibly hundreds of years alone on Lua until the rest of the tenno were woken up by the Lotus.

Just then an idea strikes the operator.

“Before I met Luke, I hated the thought of working with a warframe too. For different, more petty, reasons but still.” he recalls holding a major grudge against Luke. “How about… If you don’t want to craft one, maybe it’s worth looking into making some friends organically. There are independent frames around too. I know a place even.”

Of course the place Kyn knows might be a tad inappropriate for the desired intentions. He suddenly hopes Lane won’t ask about it. But he could take Lane to more public locations in general. It’s high time the drifter learns how to socialise.

Judging by the softened expression on Lane’s face, the drifter seems to be on board with finding an alternative way to achieve a battle buddy.

Actually. It’s not just his expression that seems softer. The man himself is glowing. Kyn squints. There’s wisps of seagreen light leaking from the drifter.

“Are you feeling alright?” Kyn asks.

“No, no, no, no. I knew this was too good to be true. I should have stuck with the feeling. Of course it was a test! And I failed. I keep failing. Oh why do I try, I’m such a fool.” Lane rambles an entire disservice to his capabilities as he circles around a massive algae-covered rubber tire. “I should die while I still can. I can’t go back there.”

Lane drops his knife to the ground and steps away from the hole to observe his own hands. “Oh no… Goere had this happen to her before she passed.”

“Your kavat? Could it be that she didn’t outright die, but the correct timeline claimed her?” Kyn proposes a not well thought out explanation. Lane is now freaking out.

“You mean I am going to get sent back to the Colosseum???” he half-shouts at the operator. Whatever Kyn tells him next is no longer heard, as Lane begins pacing in a nervous frenzy. He stumbles away from the rusty truck with his head in hands.

“Whoa, hold up. Stop that.” The operator quickly picks up the knife the drifter had dropped, just in case the man does anything rash. Luckily Lane doesn’t notice Kyn pocketing the weapon.

The operator walks over to the drifter and smacks him across the face in hopes that it would help Lane snap out of his mental trap.

Lane frowns. “That’s not enough to kill me, you know???”

Kyn blinks in bewilderment.

“No, Lane. Look. Look at yourself now.” The operator takes the drifter’s hands in his own palms. The wispy glow is gone. “Maybe it’s something else.”

The drifter observes his now perfectly normal arms. “Huh… Do you suppose I have an allergy to whatever is inside?”

“That is such a weird way to put it, but maybe?” Kyn glances back at the entrance under the vehicle that Lane has cleared out for them. “Stay away for now. I’ll go take a look at what’s inside.”

The operator then heads into the cave under the rusty vessel to investigate. The path becomes wider, making him think that it’s a hole dug out on purpose. His suspicions come to fruition not a moment later when he meets a dead end. So he looks around a bit. The ground is covered in water, there are a few valuables which he happily collects and places in his own bag.

“Should I hide somewhere? And could I have my knife back? In case of an ambush.” Lane asks.

“Um. That’s not going to happen. But sure.” Kyn places the knife in the hands of the drifter who immediately sheathes it in place on his hip.

Then Kyn gets out of the cave and calls for the drifter. “You can come over! There’s nothing here!”

“Lane?”

No response. It’s a bit uncharacteristic for the smaller man, but maybe he’s really gotten into the role of looking out for intruders or something.

The operator walks back to the rubber tire which Lane had circled around. He doesn’t find the drifter hiding in it nor anywhere near it.

Upon hearing the mention of a warframe Kyn swiftly void slings over to Lane to have a look for himself. Why would they be in this rancid dead zone of all places. Another scavenger on a mission?

“Up here.” Lane’s voice comes from behind Kyn. The operator looks up at the truck. Lane is standing on it. His entire body is glowing intensely. The small man has somehow managed to break open the vehicle’s door.

He waves Kyn over. “There’s someone inside. A warframe, I think.”

“Dead Limbo Prime. My guess is he was killed maybe three to four weeks ago. This one’s kind of like Luke. Orokin-made. Unusually well kept even for his kind.” The operator shares his observations with Lane who kind of nods along but is visibly preoccupied with his own thoughts about the situation.

The operator peeks inside the vehicle. The interior is covered in mostly dry blood. There are noticeable signs of struggle with how the blood is smeared in spots that could potentially be used to climb out of the truck. The blood itself had come from a gnarly gash in the stomach of the warframe stuck to the glass window at the bottom of the truck.

The warframe appears entirely motionless. Kyn squints to better admire the ornate details on them. The warframe’s metallics are very delicate in design, even manually curled in places. And there’s an extremely lavish hat sitting on the warframe’s knee. Which is sort of a letdown to Kyn. He’s made a promise to his lover that he’ll not mingle with warframes sharing the same properties as Luke.

The drifter makes note of the old scars on the warframe. They’re well incorporated in the design but still there. He places a hand on his covered up neck subconsciously while looking at the scar on the warframe’s exposed throat.

“I think…” Lane struggles to form a sentence. What if he’s wrong in his assumption? His hand then moves to his left upper arm. The warframe has a scar there too. Then he notices the hip scarf on the warframe. It’s the same one he’s wearing. Sick mother’s shawl - his only remaining family heirloom.

“This is you.” Kyn states, finality in his voice. Lane merely nods.

The drifter turns to face the operator. “I think you’re right. About the timelines.”

Kyn raises his painted eyebrows in response. He makes note of the colour of the light leaking out of Lane, then glances at the dead warframe below them for comparison. Although the energy has gone dark, he’s confident it would match Lane’s light if the warframe was still alive.

The operator leaps inside the truck to retrieve the warframe. He could use transference and get them out of their peril with ease but feels it might be disrespectful to Lane. The drifter already looks uncomfortable enough.

Not without struggle Kyn props up the warframe high enough for Lane to grab and pull them out of the truck. As he pulls the warframe toward himself, he feels his consciousness begin to fade. All he sees is intense light that only gets brighter and brighter the longer he holds onto the warframe. It’s so strong, the pressure in his head becomes overbearing. Blood spills from his nose uncontrollably and he lets go, and allows himself to fall to the ground. He hears Kyn call his name as he hits the sludge below.

“He is still viable. We should dispose of him lest someone else picks him up and puts him to use. That would be rather shitty.” Kyn explains his reasoning. He grabs the hat and tosses it up towards the drifter who catches it with relative ease.

Lane is taken by surprise when the hat bursts with light on contact. Still he holds onto it and continues watching Kyn deal with the warframe variant of… himself.

The light is replaced by dark.

He is now one.

And nothing is as it was.

He regains consciousness at some point.

Lane opens his eyes to the view of a very concerned Kyn. The operator is anxiously pacing back and forth while talking with Luke via a transference call. They have their own secure means of communication with one another. He is asking his partner to come pick them up. The drifter sits up at that. The fall wasn’t high enough to require assistance. He should let Kyn know he’s alright.

Kyn ends his call with Luke and runs up to Lane to ask a row of questions without hesitation. “What’s the last thing you remember? What did you see in the sky in the Colosseum? What’s my height?”

“Kyn! I’m good. Don’t send Luke here.” Lane calls out to the operator who trips over his own feet at the sound of the drifter’s voice. It feels odd. The sound shouldn’t have come out like that.

Lane lifts his hand to his mouth, but finds no mouth to touch. He proceeds to inspect his entire face but finds nothing familiar on it. No eyes, no nose, no ears. “Um.”

“Good, so you are you.” Kyn crosses his arms, satisfied with the answers. Then he drops another question. “How did you figure out how to use transference?”

The drifter would grimace at the operator’s nonsense if he could. Unfortunately his face feels very stiff.

“We pulled a warframe out of the truck,” he replies. “There was a giant mouth in the sky. And your height is 182 centimetres.”

“I didn’t???” Lane responds again, now slightly more frustrated. “What is happening?”

“You disappeared into the warframe. You’re controlling the body now.” Kyn shares what happened from his point of view.

“Oh, that is unusual.” Kyn kneels down before Lane. He pokes the drifter in the open wound. “You feel that? Does it actually hurt?”

Lane lets out an exaggerated vomit noise. “Eugh. I am controlling my own CORPSE?”

He jumps up to his feet but tumbles back to the ground almost immediately when pain in his abdomen makes itself known. “Ough.”

“Stop! What is with you?” Lane pushes Kyn away with much more force than he himself had anticipated. The operator flies a good distance backwards straight into an algae filled mud puddle.

Just then a landing craft approaches their location. Both Kyn and Lane notice it. Both are eager to get out of the swampy mess. Their goal is more or less reached too.

The operator is unable to keep his eyes off the drifter though. There’s something wrong with the small man. It shouldn’t hurt in such fashion. Worst of all, there’s still space in him. He is still transference viable, like an unoccupied warframe would be.

The timeline. What if it did claim him in some way after all?

[previous | next]

#warframe #ritens-art #ritens-writing #tldr; lane gets into yet another situation. whats new.#dw tho next chapter is going to be 90% kyn and luke messing around #wf-lane #wf-kyn

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nek-ros · 1 year

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press f to thank blessings in wf relays -> press f to pay respects

#warframe

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twwpress · 7 months

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Weekly Press Briefing #66: September 24th - 30th

Welcome back to the Weekly Press Briefing, where we bring you highlights from The West Wing fandom each week, including new fics, ongoing challenges, and more! This briefing covers all things posted from September 24 - September 30, 2023! Did we miss something? Let us know; you can find our contact info at the bottom of this briefing!

Challenges/Prompts:

The following is a roundup of open challenges/prompts. Do you have a challenge or event you’d like us to promote? Be sure to get in touch with us! Contact info is at the bottom of this briefing.

@callixton hosted The West Wing Pride Week (@twwpride here on tumblr) September 17 - 23. More details here, and you can check out the AO3 collection here!

This Week in Canon:

Welcome back to This Week in Canon, where we revisit moments in The West Wing that occurred on these dates during the show’s run.

Season 1, Episode 2: Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc aired on September 29, 1999.

Season 4, Episode 1: 20 Hours in America Part I aired on September 25, 2002.

Season 4, Episode 2: 20 Hours in America Part II aired on September 25, 2002.

Season 5, Episode 1: 7A WF 83429 aired on September 24, 2003.

Season 7, Episode 1: The Ticket aired on September 25, 2005.

Photos/Videos:

Here’s what was posted from September 24 - September 30:

Bradley Whitford posted a photo of his wife Amy Landecker along with a sweet message for her birthday.

Marlee Matlin posted a photo of herself with her daughters in honor of National Daughters Day.

Marlee Matlin posted a photo of herself and her sister getting their hair done together over FaceTime.

Marlee Matlin posted photos of herself with her sons in honor of National Sons Day.

Marlee Matlin posted photos of herself out on the ice for an NHL game.

Rob Lowe posted a throwback photo of him swimming underwater in the ocean.

@bestofcjtoby: September 24

Editors’ Choice:

Because it premiered this week in 2005, we’re rounding up some of our favorite fics that take place during or after the events of The Ticket (Season 7, Episode 1).

I don't wanna miss you like this (come back... be here) by WitchyPrentiss | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | This starts as the part in the rom-com where everything feels like it won’t end up okay and some sad song is playing as the leads go about their lives without each other - but bare with me because every rom-com has a happy ending. Post the ticket, pre the Al Smith dinner Title: Come Back Be Here by Taylor Swift

As Swords Go by thefinestmuffins | Rated T | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | After his disaster interview with Donna, Josh gets some advice from Leo and does his best to makes amends with the help of emotional vulnerability and Chinese takeout. Post-Ep Fix-It for The Ticket

see right through me by itwasit | Rated T | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | Lou shoves him into the room with her and he’s not prepared. He doesn’t have his folder full of her quotes to remind him of why he can’t miss her. He doesn’t have his memories prepared, in the front of his mind, of the specific ways her leaving hurt.

taylor swift song fic (josh's version) (the archer)

Spoiling for a Fight at Midnight by LizaCameron | Rated T | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | Josh and Donna finally fight it out, post The Ticket

You're Gonna Die Bloody (and All You Can Do is Choose Where) by onekisstotakewithme for daylight_angel, miabicicletta, Luppiters, hondagirll | Rated T | Danny Concannon/C.J. Cregg | Complete | The hearings will turn over every rock in her life, every email, every phone call – and of course they’ll see Danny’s name – but she can’t drag him down any further.

Chianti by TheBreakfastGenie | Rated G | Josh Lyman & Toby Ziegler, C. J. Cregg & Toby Ziegler,Josh Lyman/Donna Moss, Danny Concannon/C. J. Cregg | Complete | The bag hits the ground with her, and the bottle breaks, spilling dark wine all over the driveway. He stares at the dark liquid spreading over the ground, staining the ice. It’s more purple than red, but it might as well be blood. make

an honest stand by jazzjo | Rated G | C. J. Cregg/Kate Harper | Complete | Oliver Babish asks her, once, then again after a dizzying go-around, if she trusts Kate. She does; she trusts Kate Harper with her life.

Please hold while we reblog with this week's fics!

#the west wing #tww #west wing #tww fandom #josh lyman #donna moss #tww fic #cj cregg #sam seaborn #toby ziegler #danny concannon #josh x donna #danny x cj #kate x cj #kate harper #will bailey #weekly press briefing

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howlingday · 1 year

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Lisa: This just in, Terror Under The Tides, as a Schnee Dust Company submarine has been hijacked by huntress, Ruby Rose.

Image: Ruby dancing while wearing cat ears at a festival.

..................................................................................

Blake: Oh my god!

Weiss: I told her that picture would come back to haunt her.

..................................................................................

Lisa: Could Ruby Rose be a terrorist? Her uncle has provided feedback on her behalf.

Qrow: (Drunk) Who, Squirt? Please! She's not a terrorist. She may be naive, a slob, an idiot, a terrorist, but she is NOT a porn star!

..................................................................................

Ghira: The White Fang would be more than pleased to offer amnesty to your lost and wayward huntress and vessel.

Jacques: The White Fang? I thought you guys reformed.

Ghira: (Wicked grin) YES! THAT'S WHAT WE WANTED YOU TO THINK! (Presses button, Flag unfurls to old colors, Cackles maniacaly)

..................................................................................

(Children playing the streets of Menagerie unzip their faces to reveal adult WF Goons)

(Faunus citizens around the globe don WF masks, Pull out fully loaded weapons)

(Adam Taurus corpse breaks out of WF display in museum, Marches out angrily)

Adam: ARGH! MUST! CRUSH! FAUNUS OPPRESSION!

#rwby #the simpsons #lisa lavender #blake belladonna #weiss schnee #qrow branwen #jacques schnee #ghira belladonna #adam taurus

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noelledeltarune · 22 days

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GUYS WILL YOU ALL DO THIS FOR ME.

GO TO THIS SITE ^ (on pc it doesnt work on mobile unfortunately)

press THIS button (the pencil one)

and paste THIS :

[6x] 0 e u [ex][x]6[j][0j] e u [ej][j]6f[0f] e u [fe]f6p[0p] e u [pe][p]4i[i8] q e tu[4i]p[8a]s[dq]fe t 5 [f7]j[j9] [fw]d[fr]d[s3]a[s5]a[p7]o[o0] [wu]u[u4] [8]y[q]u[ep] [ta] [5y] [p7]o[9p]a[wp] [ro] [6p]s[0f]d[ef] [up]f[es]g[5f]d[9p]g[ws]g[rf]d[wf] 6 0 e u e 6 0 e u e 6 0 e u e 6 0 e u e [6x] 0 e u [ex][x]6[j][0j] e u [ej][j]6f[0f] e u [fe]f6p[0p] e u [pe][p]4i[i8] q e tu[4i]p[8a]s[dq]fe t 5 [f7]j[j9] [fw]d[fr]d[s3]a[s5]a[p7]o[o0] [wu]u[u4] [8]y[q]u[ep] [ta] [5y] [p7]o[9p]a[wp] [ro] [6p]s[0f]d[ef] [up]f[es]g[5f]d[9p]g[ws]g[rf]d[wf]d[4f]d[8f]j[ef]d[ft] i p s a o u [t4d]s[3d]s[5d]h[7d]s[0d] w r t r w 0 9d[4f]d[8f]j[ef]d[ft] i p i t q 8 [4s] [ad3] % 7 0 W r [rWy]

make sure not to change anything dashes spaces etc. this is the best and easiest way i could think of to try and get across what this song sounds like because i invariably mess it up on actual piano... it's only like half of it but if you have EVER heard it before PLEASE tell me what it's called. it's in the mp100 fangame me and the shinigami taxi and it's the only song i haven't found yet from the game (it's all royalty free music)

#talk tag #mp100 #me and the shinigami taxi #sorry for maintagging #i know it's not a super popular fangame i just played it for the first time a few weeks ago and this has been making me insane #(<- whatever.)

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jonesyjonesyjonesy · 2 years

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Wildflowers (pt. xvi)

a john paul jones x fem!oc fic

summary: Julia Morgan knew nannying for three girls who had recently lost their mother would come with many challenges. But she never thought their father, the enigmatic musician John Paul Jones, would be causing her the most trouble. And while Julia is not in the business of saving broken men, her tenderness might be meant for more than little girls and wildflowers.

table of contents │ previous chapter

masterlist│ko-fi

notes: mentions of childbirth, nsfw

a/n: celebrating my pilgrimage to the taylor hawkins concert with a little bit of wf...enjoy 😘

pt. xvi, white clover

“You’re certainly not a cow. And if you are, you’re the most beautiful cow I’ve ever seen.”

I woke up suddenly the next morning to my internal clock blaring. From the looks of the light and the chill in the air, it had to be nearly time for me to wake up. I reached for the small travel alarm clock on my side table, but was stopped by John’s arms wrapping around me and pulling me back toward the middle of the bed. I didn’t resist, dissolving into his touch.

“Mmm, where are you going?” he asked groggily in my ear.

“Just checking the time,” I replied. I stroked the side of his head and snuggled my back against him.

The night had been tender and exquisite. Lots of moments of reaching. Of nuzzling gently. Of deep breaths and sighs. Soft. Safe. So worth all the yearning.

“Don’t check the time,” John groaned. His hand tightened against my stomach.

I chuckled. “We’ll have to get up sometime, John.”

“Why are you in such a rush to get away from me?” he teased, pushing his hips up against my backside. He was hard through his underwear. Unyieldingly so.

“Not in a rush,” I said with a giggle. I turned my face toward him; his eyes were heavy with sated sleep and his lips were curled into a mischievous smile. “Never.”

John kissed me softly, our tongues colliding, metallic, stale spit exchanged between our mouths. Morning entanglements always hold a certain vulnerability. A clarity. That at our most unguarded, we can invite each other into a desperate closeness.

John’s fingers pressed tensely into my stomach, musting the front of my nightgown, as our kissing grew fiercer. The newness of everything was still vibrating, the excitement to have permission to touch one another. Every single part. He pulled on the fabric of my gown and ghosted his fingers across the bare skin of my belly, lower and lower until he could slip them into the waistband of my panties. I broke the kiss with an anticipatory gasp. His mouth spread into a knowing smile as his fingers slid across my awaking clitoris.

“Julia…” he said in a sing-song voice.

I smiled, the tip of my tongue touching my upper teeth as I dissolved into his touch. His fingers traced my labia and explored the burgeoning slickness. I snaked my hand around to where his hardness pressed into my ass, but John stopped me, taking my wrist in his hand and pulling it away. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“I got mine, now you get yours,” John said matter-of-factly and kissed me before I could respond.

“We can both.”

John shook his head and pulled my hand down to my wet center. He moved his lips toward mine as if to kiss me but stopped just short. “Show me.”

I paused, unsure at first, until John’s hand stretched out against the back of mine and delicately pressed them against my clitoris. My eyes darted away from his for a moment; I knew my cheeks were turning red. It was silly of me to feel embarrassed. After all, I’d participated in much worse (if you recall the cocaine fueled sex over a farm post). But for some reason, being asked to guide him made me second guess I even knew my own body at all.

“I want to know…” John trailed off and kissed my chin, “…how best to please you.”

I swallowed. It was far cry from the way most men thought they needed to behave. Like they were already equipped with every tool to please me. Like they needn’t ask what I wanted; they already knew. Now…we all know how delusional men can be, especially when they’re thinking with their pricks. So this moment was surprising and terrifying. All this possibility.

I exchanged my hand for his so I could guide him to my most sensitive points. “I like it when…” I pushed his forefinger into my opening. “You could even…” I pushed his middle finger in with it and let out a long sigh.

John laughed lightly and began to pump his fingers into me, working up to each knuckle. I closed my eyes, each pulse setting off a snap of electricity inside me. I hummed contentedly. “What else?” John asked, pushing his nose into my hair.

“I like…talking.”

“Like…”

“Dirty,” I said and immediately laughed. “I mean…”

“Like if I tell you how much I love your cunt?” John whispered.

I moaned in response. “Yeah. Yes, like that.”

John’s fingers delved deeper inside me. Each push of his fingers had my whole body shudder. “And how perfect your body is.” His teeth ran along my ear lobe before he bit it gently and tugged.

“Oh my god,” I whined.

“And,” he went on, voice growing ragged by the minute, “how much I want to taste you.” He pushed his fingers all the way inside me and forced his hips up against me, grinding his cock against my ass.

I whimpered out his name and pushed my face into my pillow to remain quiet.

“Your pretty little sounds,” he growled, “Fuck.”

I gasped loudly. I clumsily positioned his thumb against my clit. “Press here. Hard.”

“Whatever you say, Julia,” John said in a lulling voice. The pressure of his thumb immediately intensified.

I tried to curse, but the word was gulped up by a heavy moan. The matching pace of his fingers and thumb created a rumbling deep inside me, like a roll of thunder. Percolating with pleasure.

“Close?”

I groaned affirmatively. John kept working his fingers and I fucked his hand. Closer, closer, until lightning struck. A flash of heat. My stomach muscles spasmed, my body twitching with release. Before I could let out a stunned gasp, John kissed me, capturing my moan in his mouth. His other hand wrapped around my face; his thumb traced my cheekbone.

My pussy pulsed around his fingers and my clitoris hummed with sharp warmth. John retracted his thumb only to press his thumb up against my clit again. I jerked, clit screaming with pain of overstimulation.

John removed his hand from me and put it against my chest. “Too much,” he said as if he could read my mind. “Too much, I’m sorry.” He peppered kisses along my jaw. “So sorry.”

I didn’t have words, still basking in how his hand was able to maneuver inside me. I interlaced my hand with his against my chest. “Oh my god,” I sighed, half-laughing.

John kissed my shoulder, lips bending with a smug smile. “I’ll do better next time.”

“Better?” I scoff. “That was –“

“I’ll do better,” John interrupted and gently tugged on my arm, prompting me to roll over and face him. He kissed me once more and drew me into his chest. “Next time.”

Contentment flooded through my veins. Not only was I lying here with him, but I would get to lie with him again. Again and again and again, I hoped. I nuzzled up against him, pushing my face into his gaunt collar bone, and slid my hand up from his waist to his bare chest. I stroked my fingers through the hair on his chest that for months I had eyed at the collar of his shirt. John’s embrace tightened around me.

Neither of us said anything for a long while, like there was never a need to rush again. That life could just be this languishing in each other’s arms.

John kissed the crown of my head and buried his face in my hair. “Mmm…you smell so good.”

I giggled, tucking myself even closer to him and wrapping a leg around his waist.

He grunted in response. “Julia…”

“What?” I asked. Innocent as a lamb.

John ran his hand down my leg, from my bare thigh to my calf and back. “If you do that I’m never going to get out of bed.”

“You were the one who just –“

“Yes, I know I was, I know,” John said softly.

I swallowed. “I should check the time.”

John released me this time. I rolled over in bed and picked up the travel clock from the bedside table. “S’nearly half past 7. The girls will be up soon. Jacinda’s probably already awake.”

John touched my shoulder blade, the bone fitting in the palm of his hand. He leaned his face into my neck and sighed.

I turned into his touch and kissed him gently. “What is it?”

He smiled weakly. “Once we get up, it’s going to be a long time before I can touch you again.”

My eyebrows jumped. I hadn’t really processed how we would move through our life now that we had this shared affection. Of course, around the girls, we would have to hold back. There were questions we would have to answer privately. And despite any feeling of youthfulness, the rush of eager attraction, we were adults and had to act like it. “Then kiss me like you mean it,” I said with a melodramatic flare.

John laughed and nodded, “I can do that.” He pressed his lips to mine, his tongue delving deep into my mouth, bending me back almost like we were Bogart and Bacall. “Did I mean it enough?”

I could live off that for the day if I had to. “Yes, that’ll suffice.”

He gave me one last kiss and then rolled away from me and out of bed. “You take your time this morning. I’ll get the girls downstairs.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said, sitting up. “I still ought to do my job, don’t you think?”

John picked up his shirt off the ground and buttoned it up quickly. “You’re never going to let me forget that you work for me, are you?”

“Well, it makes things rather complicated,” I replied. My fingers tensed around the quilt. “On top of everything.”

“Julia –” John said quite suddenly, plopping onto the side of the bed and wiggling his trousers up his legs. “Just because things are complicated doesn’t mean we aren’t allowed to enjoy ourselves.”

I smiled. It felt like we had switched positions. Now it was me in need of constant reassurance.

“Which means you’re just going to have to get used to me fancying you,” he said and then brushed some hair from my face. “Alright?”

I nodded. I could allow that.

John’s finger crossed over my lips, blue eyes glinting. The corners of his lips jumped the slightest bit before he tapped his pointer finger on my lower lip. “Good.” He started to get up and then lurched back to me, kissing my cheek.

I giggled and pressed my hand to his chest. If we didn’t have somewhere to be, I’d yank him back into bed.

“You take an extra half hour. We’ll be down there when you’re ready.” John disappeared out the door before I could respond, heading to the studio so he could get dressed. I laid back in bed, alone again, and drifted in and out of sleep until a group of starlings found purchase on the tree outside my window, boisterously conversing. The longer I listened, the more distinct each one sounded, almost like our meals around the table in the kitchen, how the girls all tittered in their unique way.

I finally shoved myself out of bed and got myself dressed. It was hard to avoid not turning an eye to my appearance. I didn’t want to look out of place and like I was trying too hard but didn’t want to look like I wasn’t trying at all.

I pulled on a blue shirtdress with white stripes and did just a bit of makeup before I went downstairs to the kitchen. Acting like nothing was different was going to be a tricky task, especially around Annie who always seemed able to sniff out the truth like a bloodhound. I pushed open the door to find the kitchen bustling with activity. Annie was in the throes of getting breakfast ready, eggs bubbling on the stovetop and toast in the oven. The girls were all still in their nightclothes; Jacinda and Kiera were coloring while Tamara read a Nancy Drew book. At the head of the table in his normal spot was John, but he had a newspaper propped up in front of his face, studying something intently.

“There she is, Miss Sleeping Beauty,” Annie announced, barely looking up from her cooking. “Ought to be wearing a ballgown for how long it’s taken you to get down here.”

I blushed. “Sorry, I…overslept.”

She tsked me quickly and grumbled under her breath. She was more on edge than usual. I’d have to get into her good graces.

“Hi, Julia!” Kiera chirped. “We’re coloring.”

“Why am I not surprised?” I smiled and looked over her shoulder, peering at the page in her Wizard of Oz coloring book. “Very interesting choice making Dorothy’s ruby slippers bright green. Wicked Witch might like that.”

She grinned up at me, still scribbling outside the lines without her eyes on the page.

I ran my hand through her hair dearly. “What can I help you with Annie?” I asked, circling the table right behind John’s chair, hoping he would look up at me.

“Oh, just about anything,” she grumbled. “I’ve got a pitcher of juice in the fridge, if you could.”

I followed her direction, retrieving the pitcher of orange juice from the refrigerator and returning to the table to fill up the glasses. One by one, I went round the table, saving John for last. “Juice?”

John didn’t look up from the paper. “Please.”

As I started filling the glass, I said coolly, “Something particularly interesting in the news this morning?

He cleared his throat and folded the paper quickly. “No, why?”

“Well, your attention seems completely rapt. I don’t even think you said good morning to me,” I replied with a shrug.

“No, he didn’t,” Jacinda said looking at John admonishingly.

“So impolite, daddy,” Tamara added.

He smiled crookedly, flush appearing around his nose. “Well, I beg your pardon, Julia. Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

I curled my lips disappointedly. “Tossing and turning most of the night.”

John’s dimples deepened and lechery clouded his eyes.

We were interrupted by the ringing of the kitchen phone. “I’ll get it,” I announced and rushed over to the wall phone. “Hello?”

“I’m calling for Anna,” a gruff voice said on the end of the phone. I recognized it as Annie’s husband: he always referred to her as Anna. I found it sweet he referred to her so reverently.

“Just a moment,” I answered before turning and extending the phone to Annie. “William for you.”

Annie snatched the phone from me and tucked it in the cradle of her shoulder, continuing to tend to the eggs. “What?” she asked edgily. Her face changed in an instant. “What?!” she repeated, louder this time.

I shot a look over my shoulder at John. His concerned confusion matched mine.

“What do you mean she’s – well, yes, but –“ Annie let out a grunt of frustration. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Alright. Alright.” She breezed past me to hang up the phone on the wall. She turned back to the room, unable to speak.

“What is it?” John asked.

Annie reached for a kitchen towel and began to wring her hands in it. “Bethany’s gone into labor.”

I gasped and clapped my hands together. “Oh, my goodness, Annie, that’s so exciting.”

“What’s ‘labor’ mean?” Kiera asked the room loudly.

“It’s what happens when you have a baby,” Tamara replied with an authoritative tone that made even Jacinda agree to it.

Kiera’s mouth formed into a tight circle, her hands slapping against her cheeks. “A baby! I’ve never had a baby before!”

“Not you!” Tamara scolded.

Annie jolted abruptly, remembering the breakfast near burning all around her. “Let me finish breakfast and then I’ll –”

I intercepted her from the stove. “Let me take care of breakfast. You should go and –“

“Not until things are further along. First babies take forever. Keep that in mind when you’re ready to have your own.”

I pursed my lips and looked back John with my brows raised, pleading for some support.

“Annie, please, you should go,�� John said with authority. “There’s no need to stay here and have it on your mind if you –“

“Exactly. John’s exactly right, it’s just going to be on your mind if you stay here,” I said, slipping the spatula out of her hand.

She took a deep breath. “But I’ve got so many things to do now that you’re all back, I’ve got to –”

“We can take care of it, can’t we?” I said.

John got to his feet and started for the kitchen door. “We can and we will. Come along, Annie.”

Annie resisted with her words, but was easily shepherded to the front door. I took her apron while John handed over her pocketbook. “Now really, I can stay, I can,” she said, although there was no mettle behind her words.

“It’s Bethany’s first, you’ll want to be there,” I said with a gentle squeeze of her arm. “Regardless of how tyrannical she’ll be.”

Annie let out a laugh and said sweetly, “Oh, she’ll be a terror. Alright. Fine. You’re right.” Annie leant in and kissed my cheek and then John’s. “I’ll call once everything is settled and let you know what was on my to-do list.”

“At your convenience,” John said. “I promise, the house will still be standing when you get back.”

She let out a loud, high-pitched laugh. “Barely.”

Before she made it out the door, I grabbed her by the arm. “You’ll call once the baby is born. Won’t you? Whatever time of day, I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. Please call to let us know,” I said, desperation in the cracks of my words.

“Oh, Julia. Little angel. Yes, I will,” she said, patting my hand gingerly. Then, she hurried off to her car in the driveway.

“What a morning,” John murmured as she drove off.

I giggled and looked over at him. My stomach dropped as soon as our eyes met. It would be an undertaking keeping the house without Annie there, not to mention keeping the girls entertained with the last of their summer break and whatever work John had to do. But more than that, we now had this little secret that felt even more dangerous now that we weren’t accountable to another adult.

John smiled, eyes narrowing. “You look terrified.”

“Daddy!” Jacinda’s voice shrilly called from the kitchen. “Something’s burning!”

We made it just in time to salvage one piece of toast and keep the eggs from congealing completely to the pan.

Something burning…a perfect way to encapsulate that day. It was as if every moment, every thing was on fire. From the moment Annie stepped out the door, we were constantly moving to put out the flames. Not just the flames of what Annie had left undone, but the growing, perpetual heat of John and I having to focus our efforts anywhere but between us. The girls didn’t make it out of pajamas until nearly noon with me rushing between tasks and John having to retreat to the studio for work and phone calls. The timeline had skipped like a record. We went to bed as lovers and woke up almost as parents. I tended house, he worked, and any memory of the night before was buried in trying to keep everything from falling apart.

By dinner, I had fallen into distant yearning once again. A look, a touch…something. But the girls hadn’t left me alone, not for a second, and, consequently, the secret remained.

As the girls finished up dinner, I stood at the sink to get a head start on the dishes. John sidled up beside me with an empty plate. “Oh, hello,” he said softly.

“Fancy seeing you here,” I mumbled, throwing a look over to the girls who were sitting at the table on the other side of the island.

“You dropped something,” he remarked.

I looked to the ground where the towel I had been using to dry the dishes had fallen. “For Christ’s sake…” I muttered quietly and bent down to pick it up.

John beat me to it though, whipped the towel out from the extension of my hand. I barely had time to process before I felt his lips crash onto mine, knocking me onto my bottom with his force. I caught his jaw in my hand; my lips bent into the kiss easily, forgetting who was in the room with us. I wondered how long we could disappear behind the kitchen island before one of the girls became suspicious.

I didn’t get to test that theory before John broke the kiss, a simpering smile on his lips. I must have looked like a deer caught in headlights and then run over with a car, flattened out on the floor with my eyes wide. John leapt up and tossed the cloth back onto the kitchen bench. “What do you think? Should we go out for ice cream?”

The girls cheered in response.

We all piled into the car, my pulse not having settled, feeling itchy around the collar.

I burnt and smoldered the rest of the evening. The sugar kept the girls up later than usual, so we bided our time with a showing of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm on the television, Kiera nestled under John’s arm and Jacinda and Tamara on the ground, prone on their bellies.

The movie, a charming Shirley Temple feature, was easy to get lost in. I loved all her movies, having grown up with them myself. And Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm was one of my favorites, particularly for the mismatched couple of Orville and Lola: Orville, bumbling and lovesick, and Lola, exquisitely beautiful and completely disinterested. Midway through the movie, they sing a duet together that demonstrated his haplessness in trying to win her over. I’d never been able to find the song on a record; it seemed to be written for the movie, though it played like a jazz standard. When they came on screen, I couldn’t help but announce it was my favorite part.

Alone with you I don’t know the meaning of time…

“Why? It’s boring,” Tamara murmured.

Alone with you I’m yours without reason or rhyme…

“Yeah, it’s too slow,” Kiera added.

John shushed them and added, “Grown-ups have different tastes. Now hush.”

I’d be content to be sent to an island in the sea If I had you with me How lucky I would be!

My gaze drifted over to John midway through the song. I couldn’t help being a sap. He was watching the television with lazing eyes, arm around Kiera, who was playing with his fingers. That day had certainly felt like an island. Far away from the rest of the world, just John and me (and Tamara, Jacinda, and Kiera of course) on this island, consumed by blaze. When you’re on an island, there aren’t many ways to get off. You have no option but to enjoy the island, not worry about what’s out around it. Untouched by the rest of the world, it would be so easy to forget all hardships and worries. Maybe this was where I went wrong, thinking it’d be possible to fall in love this way. That I could keep out the brutality of the world.

I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s no matter in the telling, only the recollecting.

When the movie was finished, it was finally bedtime. I took care of the elder two while John tended to Kiera. She had been particularly clingy to him since the morning and demanded he read her bedtime story.

Tamara and Jacinda were down quickly. I went to tidy up from the day and get changed into evening clothes, convinced John would be done by then. Surprisingly, though, when I checked the hallway, Kiera’s light was still on. I tiptoed toward her room, trying to hear what was going on inside.

“…will it come tonight?”

“I don’t know, darling.”

I leaned closer to the door.

“Babies come when they’re ready and they take a very long time to be born. Sometimes a very short time, but usually a very long time,” I overheard John explain in a delicate tone.

Kiera grunted in frustration. “I can’t sleep until the baby’s born. I need to know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

John sighed. “Perhaps another story, hm?”

I thought it best not to intercede, but I pitied him deeply. Getting caught in existential conversations with children about life always made for long, winding conversations. I wandered down to the studio and put on some music, something classical and easy. I’d have a drink waiting for him. I’d be waiting for him.

The moment I sat down, though, the day weighed heavier than I thought. I fell asleep only minutes after taking a sip of whisky. I have no idea how long I was asleep when I was awakened by a soft kiss on the forehead. “Sleeping beauty…” John’s familiar, sing-song voice.

I hardly opened my eyes before I wrapped my arms around him and adjusted the angle of my face to kiss him. The room was now silent, the record played through. I didn’t need an explanation of how long I’d been there, I just needed him.

We picked up right where we had left off that morning: warmth and slickness, the tang of saliva, catching of breath. John’s body chest pressed against mine, pinning me to the sofa. His kissing stoked the fire that had almost been reduced to ash. I let out a whimper from the back of my throat.

John’s lips parted from mine. “Tired?”

“No,” I replied.

"Mmgood." John engulfed my lips again. One of his hands slunk down the length of my body, passing over my breasts to my waist, and then to my already wet cunt. He cupped it tightly through my nightdress; I whined away from his lips. “John –"

The phone let out a scathingly shrill ring.

“Fuck,” I cursed.

“Leave it,” he replied curtly, pushing his mouth against my neck with a biting kiss.

My body went rigid with pleasure, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was Annie calling with news of Bethany’s baby. “Can’t…” I fumbled my hand over to the side table where the rotary phone began to blare again. I snatched it off the cradle. “Hello?”

“What in God’s name are you doing up?” Annie answered.

John lifted his head, meeting my eyes.

“It’s Annie,” I mouthed.

“Say hello for me,” John whispered before returning to his work, languishing kisses against my breastbone.

My head swam as I tried to gain composure. “Girls were up late.”

“Mmgh. I knew it. The moment I’m gone, you’re all to rack and ruin.”

I chuckled and idly ran my hand through John’s hair. This was so utterly dangerous. I loved it. “No appearance yet, I take it?”

“No. The poor thing’s been pushing for an hour now.”

“God, how awful,” I groaned.

Annie scoffed. “Please, you should have seen me with my first. He was stubborn as a mule. Had me swearing I’d never let William touch me again.”

“We know how that turned out,” I muttered playfully.

“Julia Morgan, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for all the naughty things you say!” she scolded me loud enough that John could hear it through the receiver.

John immediately lifted his head, eyes wide, looking at me like a school chum who’d done just as bad a thing as me but had gotten off Scot-free.

“You always seem to forget what a harlot I am, Annie,” I said, shoving John off me.

He held in a laugh and swiped the glass of whisky I had put out for him off the table, heading toward across the room to the doors leading outside. “Fresh air,” he whispered loudly and disappeared onto the patio.

“Anyway, calling to say I won’t be in tomorrow.”

“I’d hope not! I hope you’re not in for several days,” I declared.

“Well. I don’t know. I’d have to take that up with our employer, then.”

I smiled to myself. “I’ll put in a good word.”

“Yes. Don’t stay up, alright dear? We could be here all night and then –"

“I’ll be up,” I replied adamantly. “I won’t be able to sleep.” I was starting to sound like Kiera.

Annie hummed. “Silly girl. Alright. I’ve got to get back to it.”

“Best of luck.”

She let out a bubbly scoff and then hung up. I would be awake now, that was certain, especially after my accidental nap. I eagerly got to my feet and went out the door John had disappeared through. The patio was empty, the stones tinted blue in the dark. It was an unusually clear night, with stars perforating the sky. I walked down the length of the patio, past the sitting room doors and looked down the expansive yard.

John had made his way all the way down to the beech tree; he sat heavily on the swing, smoking a cigarette, looking out over the heath away from Warren House.

I walked barefoot through the grass, evening dew wetting my feet. I hugged my arms to my chest as the evening chill slid down my back. “You left,” I called out softly.

John looked back at me over his shoulder, smile appearing on his lips. “Come sit.”

The swing had been made wide enough for all the girls to squeeze onto uncomfortably, or, in this case, two adults to squeeze onto uncomfortably. I sat the opposite way of him, facing the house. It was entirely dark except for the little light from the studio.

Our legs dangled on either side and our hips pressed tightly together so we could be contained by the ropes. John offered me the cigarette and I took it between my lips, letting him hold it for me. His palm nestled under my chin as I inhaled; John observed me as if tending to a delicate orchid. Steady, gentle, proud even to have kept it alive.

I pulled away and blew the smoke away from him. “Fresh air.”

John laughed. “Something like it.” He took a final drag and then tossed the cigarette butt in the dewy grass. The ember seized and died quickly. “It’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“Bethany’s baby?”

John nodded.

I smiled. “Oh, yes.”

John smiled, but didn’t look at me. There was a faraway look in his eye. Something beyond this moment in time was on his mind. Luckily, I didn’t have to pry. “Can’t stop thinking about…I can’t help but think about when the girls were born. You know,” he said, wringing his hand on the swing’s rope.

“I know exactly what you mean,” I replied. We were both quiet. The stories of our children contained tragedy beyond the joy. Maureen and Henry. It was so funny how the two of them became inextricably linked in my mind as I tried to comprehend our losses. I wrapped my arms around his bicep and drew my mouth toward his ear. “You want to swap stories?”

John laughed and touched my thigh, kneading his fingers into it. A totem to remind him of where he was in time. “I’ve never told them. I don’t know where to start.”

“Maybe with the first one,” I said cheekily.

“Ah…makes sense. Well…I was very nervous.”

“As expected.”

John nodded. “Every time. Didn’t change.”

“As expected.”

He drew his gaze up to the sky. “Terrified, really. But Mo was really – she did great with it. Every time.”

“Not everyone does.”

“Right, that’s how we ended up with three I guess,” John chuckled. His lips fell and drew into a tight line. “I don’t know how to talk about this.”

My stomach dropped. “You don’t have to.”

“No, I want to,” John said, looking into my eyes. He nodded as he spoke. “Really, I want to. I just don’t know how.” He tapped his pointer finger against my leg and took a deep breath. “It’s hard to explain. When Mo went into labor with Tamara, she went to the hospital and I went to work. Like it was a normal day for me. Except my hands kept shaking and I got cursed out by Big Jim Sullivan which left me an absolute wreck. And then I went to the hospital and just waited. That’s all I could do.”

John licked his upper lip. “When you’re a boy, you’re told that the thing that makes you a man is when you find a woman who will be your wife and a mother to your children. So there I was on the precipice of what I had thought was ‘manhood’ –" he said the word as if it was a nasty taste in his mouth, “—and I had never felt more emasculated. Never in my life. Sitting there, having to wait for Tamara to be born. I mean, it’s mental when you think about it.”

I stared down at my toes dangling above the grass. “I agree.”

“Mental, right?” John ran his hand over his chin in thought. “But once I actually got to see her, none of that mattered. Because she was perfect and she had ten fingers and ten toes and what more can you really ask for, I guess.”

As if he could be any more dear and wonderful to me. “They really do make it worth all the to do, don’t they?”

“Oh, yes. Everyday,” John said emphatically, the rims of his eyes slightly watery. “Well, most days.”

We both laughed. Yes, most days.

“I tried to be more involved when Jacinda and Kiera came along, but there’s not a lot you can do with all the strictures and…people look at you sideways when you’re a man and have even an inkling of interest in your children being brought into the world,” John went on with a heavy sigh.

I traced a line with my thumb on his arm, back and forth. “Were they all on time?”

“Have you met them?” he asked dryly. “Predictable? My girls? No, Tamara was early, Kiera was late, and Jacinda was right on time, to the day.”

“Mmm…sounds like your girls.”

John raised his eyebrows. “It’s almost scary.” He turned his face toward mine and then kissed me gingerly on the lips. “Your turn,” he murmured.

“Oh, dear, well…” I began, shyness overcoming me. “I mean, what is there to tell?”

“Now really, Julia,” he tutted, rolling his eyes.

I blushed. “I don’t want to give you the nasty details.“

“I’m really not squeamish, I promise you. I’m familiar with how it all works.”

I smiled to myself. What I wouldn’t tell him is that I was just as unsure of how to tell my story as he was. The last time I had spoken any details about the birth of Henry was to Nick and he was squeamish. He had tried to be nice about it, but I could tell the mere thought of me having a baby at sixteen made his stomach churn. “Well, I was in labor for about three days.”

“Oh, god.”

“Slow going the first two days. Merely cramps and he was very active, which I had gotten used to,” I said, touching my belly subconsciously, which felt awkward and wrong. “And he came in the middle of the night.”

John gripped the rope next to me so his arm crossed my chest. “Impeccable timing.”

“Yes, truly,” I chuckled. “And Auntie Gin was my midwife.”

“Really? The Auntie Gin?”

I nodded knowingly. “Yes, the one and only. She’s got incredible bedside manner if you’re livestock, but I wouldn’t let her near a hospital."

"You poor thing," John said.

“So it was just the two of us in my little room with Graham on call for anything she needed. God, I was distraught. There was just so much going on and at the same time I didn't have a coherent thought because I felt like I was about to die. You really can't fathom what it's like until you do it for yourself."

John smiled cheekily and held out his hand, narrowing his eyes. "Right, I'll put it down...on my to do list..." he remarked, pantomiming writing on his hand as if it were a piece of paper.

I laughed. "Anyway, it gets down to it and I'm just going on and on. ‘I can’t do it, I can’t do it,’ and all that,” I said. “And Auntie Gin said, ‘Julia, if the cows can do it out in the field, you can do it here in bed.’ And I remember yelling back, ‘I’m not a cow, Auntie Gin!’”

“Oh no…” John moaned.

“So, I really showed her and he came on the next...” I said with a shrug, pausing as if I had more to say but then remembered the ending of the story. There was no need to indulge in the maudlin wonder I experienced by giving birth to Henry. The joy only veiled the sadness.

John noticed my distance. He brushed some hair from my face and kissed my shoulder. “You’re certainly not a cow,” he muttered wryly. “And if you are, you’re the most beautiful cow I’ve ever seen.”

I laughed and pushed on his arm. “Shut up.”

John caught my hand before I could draw away and brought it up to his lips. He softly kissed each knuckle. “Julia,” he spoke against the back of my hand. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Any number of things. I’m sure you can think of a few.”

He drew back with a thoughtful smile, considering. “I was thinking in the grander sense, but if you insist…” John closed in on me, pushing his lips against my neck and giving me a trail of hungry, nibbling kisses.

I bent away from him, not in retreat, but pleasure. My body responded to him so vulnerably. It should have scared me.

John touched my knee and ran his hand up my thigh, bringing up the fabric of my nightgown until the entirety of my legs were exposed to the chilly night air. My skin broke with goosebumps. He looked down at my legs, at the secret treasure nearly revealed.

“Close your eyes,” I said softly.

John’s eyes flicked to mine with excited skepticism.

“Please, I promise it’ll be worth it.”

He sighed and closed his eyes.

I pushed my fingers into my panties and let them delve into the slickness of my center. “Open your mouth.”

John bit his lip.

“John…”

“Julia, the last time I did this, Kiera gave me a spoonful of dirt, so –”

I slid my fingers over his lips right between his words. John’s mouth relaxed around my fingers, his eyebrows rising at recognition of the taste. He grunted softly and suckled my fingers, making sure not to lose a drop. His eyes opened slowly and he gave me a look of exasperation, taking me by the wrist and pulling my fingers away from his lips. “Now you know I’ll need more of that.”

I giggled and didn’t have time to reply before John had leapt off the swing and knelt before me on the ground. “On the swing?”

“As soon as possible,” John replied, hooking his arms around my knees, causing the swing to shift forward.

I tightened my hands on the ropes of the swing and squealed. John pushed his face up into my crotch, his nose nuzzling the wet gusset of my panties. He inhaled deeply and cursed into me. John guided the panties down my legs and then returned to me, mouth already hanging open, salivating. When his mouth made contact with me, my hips coiled toward him and my head dropped back. John’s tongue dove inside, lapping, teasing, thrusting, occasionally sliding up and around my clit. I jerked, mewling his name.

“Fuck, I want you on my face.”

“What?” I asked, but got my answer when John yanked on my legs. I gasped, feeling gravity overtake me, but John’s control and strength kept me on an even keel. My knees hit the grass on either side of his head. I looked at him wide eyed. John’s hair created rivulets around his face, revealing the scruffy edges of sideburns.

John smiled breathlessly and slid his hands up my lower back. “Come on,” he urged, prodding me lower toward his face.

I felt rather embarrassed to be viewed from this angle, wondering if my chin looked fatter and my breasts droopier. “I’ll suffocate you.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.” John inclined his neck and kissed my pussy lips tenderly. “But I'll tell you there's nothing I'd like more.” He teased the ridge of my labia with his tongue until I relaxed further and further onto his face. “Good girl,” he muttered until I was finally pressed onto his mouth with him flat on his back. I never understood the love men had for drowning, but why seek to understand something that gives me so much satisfaction?

John hungrily lapped me up. I let out a jumpy moan, singeing my eyes shut. The coolness of the night rushed through me, colliding with the warm ecstasy between my legs. I ran my fingers through his hair, anchoring my grip to the crown of his head. He whined; resonant tremors from his lips sparked into my bloodstream. Subconsciously, my hips started pulsing against his face, which he encouraged with the ebb of his hands.

Satisfaction was mounting, folding in on itself. My body started to shake despite itself. I tried to speak, but all that came out was stilted whimpering. John seemed to hum affirmatively into me; I looked down into his eyes, the only feature of his face clearly visible. He hummed again, brow furrowing. Let go.

John locked his arms around my hips, forcing his mouth as tightly to me as possible. I had to hold in a wail as the ecstasy poured forth. My hips jumped against him and in a flash, the orgasm catapulted through my body. I fell forward and caught myself in the grass, cursing over and over again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” My toes curled and released as the feeling zipped through me.

John broke his lips away from my cunt. “Taste so good,” he muttered against the inside of my thigh before kissing the soft, hidden skin. “So good.”

In my weak state, he was able to twist my legs out from under me, so I was now beneath him. Laying on the grass, I could feel my heart as if it was four times its size, expanding my ribs outward. John smoothed my hair away from my forehead and kissed the hinge of my jaw, the essence coating his chin rubbing off on my skin. His hips subtly undulated into me and I could feel his erection in his trousers. “Can I?”

I nodded, vocalizing affirmatively. I was so sensitive from cumming on his tongue. Slick, tight, raw. But I wanted him inside. John shifted back on his heels, guided me onto my side, and triangulated my legs. I wished we were naked. I wished I could see all of him.

In a fluid motion, John released himself from his trousers and slid inside me, tucking my top leg onto his hip. It was as if I still felt brand new from the sound of his breath. Still so new, still so exciting and undiscovered. John gripped my bare hip and started thrusting without trepidation. My nerves skittered. I craned my neck, lips brushing against the bedewed grass as my euphoria reignited.

Rapt, John watched the way he moved in and out of me. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth and his brow pinched at the center. He was trying so hard to last.

I aligned my forearm to his and wrapped my fingers around his arm. His eyes jumped to mine. Pure primal need. “It’s alright,” I said. “It’s alright.”

A look of resignation passed over his face. He shut his eyes and shook his head. I tightened the hook of my leg around his waist and grabbed the hem of his shirt, drawing him into me. “Cum for me.”

John hung his head, tresses creating a curtain over his face. His hips went into overdrive, pumping inside me, filling me and stretching me. A grunt from his lips, a frantic bracing of his hand to the ground, John came. Inevitable and breathless. John’s head lolled to the side and his jaw fell open with a groan.

John rolled onto the ground beside me. His chest rose and fell with his breath. “Fucking hell,” he sighed.

I laughed through closed lips; John looked askance at me and gave me a lazy smile.

We stared at one another in the blue night as our breath settled. For as close as we had become in the past few days, there was still this deep, hungry abyss. We either had to bridge it or fall in. So much unknown about one another and about us. It was exhilarating.

Like the minuteness of flowers blooming, we made our way to one another until we were tangled haphazardly together under the canopy of the beech tree. It was quiet enough to hear the swing ropes shifting. We traded whispers of nothingness and kisses and soft caresses. Out of the blue, John suddenly remarked, “’I’m not a cow Auntie Gin!’” and snickered to himself.

"You better not start calling me a cow now," I grumbled.

John kissed the crown of my head. "Only occasionally."

I burrowed my face into his neck and traced the tendons of his arm up and down. In the distance, I heard something. Disruptive of the nighttime quiet. Like a distant bell, something unnatural to our milieu. I rose up onto my eblow. “You hear that?”

Our eyes met and we both immediately recognized the sound. The phone. We both leapt to our feet and bolted into an eager race for who could get inside and answer the fastest. John gained on me and shot past me, intent on the studio doors, but I was tricky and slipped into the kitchen, giving me the edge. I sprinted for the phone and snatched it from the cradle.

“Is it here?" I asked breathlessly.

“Born only 10 minutes ago!" Annie cried excitedly.

My heart soared and a smile burst onto my face. “Oh, Annie!”

“Loud and very long, longest baby I’ve seen.” She spoke as if it were daytime, not the middle of the night.

“And how’s Bethany?” I asked; John entered the kitchen and rushed over to me, nudging his chin onto my shoulder so he could try and hear. I had to stifle a laugh.

“Just wonderful. She was just perfect. Strong girl.”

John whispered urgently. “What’s the name? What’s the –“

“Oh, the name, Annie, what’s the baby’s name?”

“David. After his father of course.”

My blood ran cold. “A boy?”

“Oh, yes, it’s a boy! Didn’t I say that?”

I swallowed. “No, I don’t think you did.” I felt faint. Why was I so shocked? Why did the news hurt? It was a fifty/fifty outcome, after all.

“Yes, a boy. Bethany won’t stop talking about how she knew it would be a boy. She just knew it. She feels like a fortune teller or something.”

“I bet she does..” My grip on the receiver was fading just as my smile had.

Annie continued to babble on, but I didn’t hear anything. The words were all garbled. I felt John’s hand at the crux of my back. He murmured my name.

“Julia? Are you still there?” Annie’s voice abruptly came through loud and clear.

John slipped the receiver out of my hand. “Annie? Yes, yes, she’s just…overcome. You understand.”

I spun out of his grip and went over to the kitchen table, catching myself in a chair before my legs gave out. And I began to weep sorrowfully into my hands.

“Give everyone our love, then. And take as much time as you need. We’ll be fine here, just…yes…yes, I’ll tell her. Goodnight, Annie.” John finished the conversation and hung up the phone, the receiver jangling. He came to me and knelt beside my chair. He took my hands in his, drawing them away from my face.

“Please, John, don’t look at me, I’m –“ my voice broke with a sob. “I’m –“

“Shhh, love, shhh.” John caressed my hands in his. “Tell me.”

I tried to breathe through the shuddering waves of grief rumbling through me. I tried to wade through the memory of Henry and all the regret that no matter what seemed to grow instead of disappear. I didn’t want to feel jealous or angry. But I couldn’t help it. Bethany had a little boy. And I didn’t. I swallowed painfully and thickly, loud enough to be heard. “I just wish I could…”

John’s eyes widened slightly and he nodded. “I know.”

My lips parted. Of course he knew. Of course he knew what it felt like to wish someone back into your arms. “Just once.”

He wrapped his hands around my face, diverting the tears from falling down my cheeks. “I know, Julia. I know.”

Neither of us allowed the thought to be spoken. But it was there. Right there. Almost tangible.

I wish I could hold them. Just once more.

tag list: @jimmys-zeppelin, @kari-12-10, @grxtsch, @edal-weis, @ritacaroline, @kyunisixx, @salixfragilis, @rebel-without-a-zeppelin, @jimmypages, @dollyvandal, @cassiana-on-dark-side, @thepinklovewitch, @babyl222, @faisonsunreve, @sastrugie, @seventieswhore, @raptorcat1960, @t4ngerinedr3am, @mayspringcome, @barrettavenue, @foreverandadaydarling, @glimmerofsanity, @matty-heally, @lzep (let me know if you’d like to be added 💋)

#john paul jones #led zeppelin #john paul jones x oc #fanfiction #wildflowers #wf #julia morgan #jimmy page #john bonham #robert plant

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loliwrites · 1 year

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Don't wanna toot my own horn, but this fic might be the best thing that came out season 5 until the Gaza episodes (pls see the sarcasm [but not really] y'all)

Warning: mentions of kidnapping

AU of 7A WF 83429 – more like a post episode continuation

Her fingers fumbled with her keys and she hoped Josh hadn’t noticed. He had, of course. Just as much as she was attuned to him, he was to her. Almost simultaneously, he raised his hand and set it against her lower back. Fingertips gently splayed across with the lightest of pressure on her spine. He never knew the best way to comfort a woman. Much less one navigating the anxieties of the reality they’d been forced into.

Not that either of them, or anyone in the country for that matter, thought the disappearance of Zoey Bartlet was the action of a college graduate spreading her wings. Everyone knew it was serious. Of the highest importance. They knew she’d been ripped out of a club surrounded by people: friends, strangers, secret service. They also knew she could be anywhere at this point, enduring any number of crimes done to her person. But it also kind of seemed like she’d be found quickly. That it’d be a matter of hours, if not a day, before she was back within the confines of the White House. For Donna, it had become wholly clear that this was a tragedy that had depths unlike any she’d ever experienced before, when she and Josh left the West Wing and meandered out by the gate. The sheer magnitude of candles, photos, flowers, gifts, for this girl – this child – alarmed Donna.

That’s why her hands were trembling now as she struggled to slide the key into the lock. It was why she’d lost her footing more than once on the walk home. After they’d stopped by to ponder the gifts by the White House gate, Donna thought Josh would leave. Head back to the office and do something… anything… to help. And she thought that’d be for the best. She wanted nothing more than to deal with the anxiety bubbling within her by herself. Perhaps if she were left alone, she wouldn’t feel so guilty about the anxiety. But Josh never let her walk home alone. Even when there hadn’t been a national crisis, anytime Josh caught wind that Donna had walked to work (and he wasn’t physically stuck in a meeting), he’d drop what he was doing and walk her home. Sometimes it was the impetus he needed to actually leave the office himself and go home. But sometimes he’d just end up walking back to work.

So Donna shouldn’t have been surprised that he walked her home. She also wasn’t surprised that it was an unusually quiet walk. What could they say to each other? What was there to say? She surely wasn’t going to tell him that Zoey’s kidnapping had sparked a fear in her for her own safety. That women went missing every single day, and what if her day was tomorrow? But she was no one special. No one would kidnap her for the release of Syrian prisoners. No one would shut down the airports to limit the scope of where she could go. She’d just disappear into the night and she wondered how long it would take someone to realize she was missing. But mostly she thought about how selfish it was of her to be thinking of herself right now.

“Donna?”

Donna turned and looked up at Josh. His free hand was out-stretched in her direction; his other still perched on her lower back. “Yeah?”

“You wanna stand on the stoop, or you wanna go inside?”

“I wanna go inside,”

“Okay,” Josh pressed a smile and softly coaxed her keys out of her hand. He slid the key into the lock steadily and twisted it as though he were opening his own front door. He even jiggled the knob on instinct, having experience that it had a tendency to stick. Josh nudged the door open and handed the keys back to Donna. “Want me to come up for a bit?”

“No, that’s okay,” she stepped in through the security door and forced her own smile. “I’m sure you want to get back to the office and be around incase they need you,”

He nodded slowly, not completely convinced. “Can I come up for a bit?” Putting it like that, he knew she’d take it as though he needed the company, and not that he knew she actually needed it.

Josh had seen all the candles, flowers, and gifts, too. He’d seen the people praying at the gate. He was living in the same reality as Donna but having a completely different experience with it. He wasn’t sure why she’d grown shaky, or why she’d tripped over her own feet. He only knew that the Donna he was seeing was afflicted. And they took care of each other. It’s just what they did.

Donna dropped her keys in the bowl by the door once they entered her apartment. She’d gathered herself enough to not trip on the three flights of stairs on the way up. Josh followed her in and closed and locked the door behind him. From the corner of his eye, he saw the blur of a cat run by and into the other room. But Donna was on her way into the kitchen and he didn’t want to give her too much time to get too far away from him.

“Do you want anything?” She asked over her shoulder, trying to sound casual. It wasn’t lost on either of them that her voice shook.

“I’m okay,”

She opened up a cupboard and pulled out a bag of coffee grounds, “it’s no trouble. Coffee might be helpful if you’re thinking of going straight back to work. Though I think you need–”

“I can make it,” he eased the bag out of Donna’s hands. Despite her staring suspiciously at him, he continued to float through the kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets for each item he needed. The next time he looked over at her it was because she’d finally taken a step back, as though making a physical point that she was going to let him finish the task. He scooped a few tablespoons of the coffee grounds into the filter. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She nodded again, quietly fearful that she wasn’t too convincing. “I feel bad for the President. And Mrs. Bartlet. I can’t imagine what they’re going through. How they must be feeling,” she stared as Josh poured water into the basin. He replaced the carafe back in its spot and clicked the machine on. It immediately started bubbling away. “And they don’t even get to do it in private. They have to be on their best behavior because everyone’s looking at them. Analyzing them. And Zoey,” Donna choked on her breath which got Josh’s particular attention. She was thankful that he quickly looked away, deferring his glance to the coffeemaker so she could compose herself. “God, she must be so afraid. And wondering what’s happened to her. How could he do that to her?”

Josh folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the counter. “These guys aren’t good people, Donna,”

“Not them,” she pushed her hands back through her hair and used it as an opportunity to bow her head. “Her boyfriend. Frenchie. Where was he? Why’d he slip her something? Who does that?”

“He’s a kid with unlimited resources at his disposal. He’s not thinking. His decisions are being made on impulse as to what’s going to get him the most pleasure,”

Donna’s head shot up, stronger than ever. “Why’re you defending him?”

“I’m not,” Josh shrieked.

“He’s a kid? He’s an adult in every country in the world! Why does he get to go around acting like every girl he’s with is dispensable, but every woman has to go around acting like she might be the next one taken?!” She backed herself into the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, and pressed her back up against the jamb. “Why do men do that? We’re not disposable things you take out weekly with the trash.”

And if Josh hadn’t been attuned to her previously, he surely was with that last comment. It was the first time all night that she had lumped herself into the situation; that the we she was referring to was the royal we. The entire night had been intense and complete focus on Zoey – and understandably so. But Josh was beginning to gather that Zoey was just the current poster girl for a greater woman’s issue. A greater Donna issue. He took a step toward her with his hand outstretched, and seeing her take an instinctive step back nearly knocked the wind out of him.

“What’s going on?”

She took another step backward, “nothing.”

“Talk to me,” he pleaded. “When have you ever bit your tongue on telling me every thought you have of every day?”

She spooked when the coffeemaker beeped, indicating that it had done its job. But when she focused back on Josh, she just stepped further into the living room, and further away from him. “I don’t tell you every thought I have,”

“Really? The amount of things I know about you because of the unfiltered stream of consciousness you speak to me with would be the world’s best filibuster.” He managed to gain a few steps on her and close the gap as she pondered his statement – probably wondering if she should be offended or not. “I can’t help unless you tell me what’s going on. I’m already useless at work right now because no one has any information. I can’t be useless here, too.”

“You wouldn’t get it,” she bristled and made her way to the couch. She tucked her legs beneath her and pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch, and placed it across her lap. “You live in a completely different reality. All men do,”

Josh furrowed his eyebrows. His mind was already spinning with things he wanted to retort and say to her, but he also wanted her to finish her full thought. If he interrupted, he doubted she would.

“Why are women taught all the different ways to fight off an aggressive man, but men aren’t taught to not be aggressive? We have to walk with our keys between our knuckles. We can’t walk and be on the phone. God forbid we be in the presence of a man without a smile on our face.” She shook her head because the list could go on and on and on. “You don’t let me walk home alone. You bristle if I have to take the subway alone at night. And it’s not because I’m stupid or weak… I’m the only reason you and Toby ever made it home from Indiana. It’s because every single day we exist in a world where men are the most dangerous force against women. And it’s Zoey, Josh! It’s Zoey. She’s got an entire entourage of the best marksmen in the world. And she’s got a button in her pocket to call that entire entourage to her in a heartbeat. And she’s gone. Poof!” Donna threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. “Into thin air. The whole world is looking for her now and they still can’t find her.”

She swiped the back of her hand across her eyes to hide the fact that she had started to cry. But throughout the entirety of his life, a woman crying was Josh’s kryptonite. He’d heard his mother cry every night for almost a year after the fire. And that was the start of his relationship with seeing women cry. And each progressing time, his gut instinct to it got worse and worse. But when Donna cried… he’d never experienced something so heartbreaking. She didn’t cry in front of him often and he supposed that was a professional and pride thing. He’d seen her cry during the campaign because of Dr. Freeride. And he had caught her wiping away tears from bloodshot eyes when she was finally able to see him in the ICU after Rosslyn.

Donna lowered her hands and looked up as Josh neared the couch. Now too distraught to fight it, she didn’t shrink away or make an attempt to leave. She just stared at him, holding back her tears as he sat down next to her. “How am I going to be found if the daughter of the leader of the free world can’t even be found? The FBI’s not going to look for me. Who’s going to look for me?”

“I would look for you,”

“Great. You can’t even find your way out of a paper bag,”

Josh suppressed a smile. He tucked a fingertip beneath her hair and brushed it away from her face, so it wouldn’t stick to the tears that were threatening to fall loose. “I would make sure the FBI looked for you. I’d say, ‘these guys must be pretty bad guys because they took Donna Moss and everyone loves Donna Moss’.” He genuinely thought that’d be a comfort to her, or at least lighten things up.

But when Donna let out a sob, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. The momentum made him lean against the back of the couch with her tucked into his chest. He did all he knew how to do to comfort her. He rubbed her arm and back. He set his cheek down on the top of her head as she tried to regulate her breathing. And after a few minutes, he heard her start to do just that. Perhaps she had grown embarrassed to show such great emotion in front of her boss, but Josh was endeared that a part of her felt comfortable enough to do so.

Josh felt a tugging on his shirt and he looked down to find Donna wiping her nose in it, “oh, go ahead. I don’t like this one anyway,”

She leaned back and shook her head. With her eyes fixed to the ceiling, she waved her hands in front of her face as if that was all she’d need to do to rid herself of the tears. “This is so stupid, I know. And selfish. It’s not about me.”

Josh leaned forward, shaking his head, “it’s not stupid.” He looked down at his hands, “life just got a little scarier than it was yesterday.” He glanced back at Donna and noticed she had mostly turned away from him, hiding her face from his view. “You know, there’s a difference.” He paused for effect and knew she’d turn back to look at him despite her swollen, red eyes. “Earlier you said, why do men treat women like they’re disposable. And they don’t do that,”

Almost angrily, she mumbled, “Josh.”

“Boys do that. Boys treat women like they’re disposable. Boys act irresponsibly. Boys don’t care. Men do. There’s a difference,”

“Not sure this is the time for a semantics lesson.”

Josh reached forward and set his hand down on her knee. He scooted forward as Donna stared at his hand for just a split second longer before returning her gaze to his. “Frenchie may be an adult, but he’s not a man. Age doesn’t dictate that and he’s got a long way to go before he can reasonably call himself a man in my eyes.” He squeezed her knee softly, “and no, I don’t walk you home or grimace when you take the subway at night because I think you’re weak or stupid. Donna, it’s never you that I don’t trust.”

Her eyes seemed to twinkle at his admission.

“And not to be too chummy, so don’t get all sentimental and doodle this in your diary, but I’ve already had a lot of people I care about die and I’d rather not add you to that list.”

She choked out a laugh and leaned forward with outstretched arms. They took each other into a deeply caring hug. One that had Donna tucking her face into his shoulder, and had Josh smelling her gardenia shampoo.

“You are a very good man, Joshua Lyman,” she whispered and rubbed his back. “Despite what the crazy internet people say about you.”

As they parted, Josh thought better than to ask what the internet people were saying about him now. Another part of him didn’t want to know. Instead, he gave Donna a fond smile, and quickly feeling like he’d overstayed his welcome in her small home after an unbearably long day (and night), stood from the couch. She followed suit as they both headed for the front door.

Josh pulled it open and before he walked through it, he looked back at her. “And not for nothing, but I know my number’s the first one on your speed dial, and that’s kind of like a panic button,” he felt his cheeks grow hotter when a gentle smile spread across her lips. “Or, it could be used as one if you wanted it to be,”

He took a beat before he turned to leave. Somehow he knew she’d wait at the open door and watch him descend the steps within her building. “I’d come looking for you, Donna, because my life would probably fall apart if you weren’t around to keep it together.”

#this a fic #fic related #josh x donna #josh lyman x donna moss #tww #fic #7A WF 83429 au #tw mentions of kidnapping #will also be on #ao3

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camerawhoisalsocam · 1 year

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Me: Im not going to talk about RT or RWBY anymore

Also Me:

I noticed alot of errors in one of my favorite fights in RWBY volume 4, RNJRQrow vs Tyrian. Im going to focus on the middle of the fight since I want to focus on animation errors rather than more pressing issues like Ruby cutting of Tyrian's tail or Ruby thinking he's in the WF once she learns he's a faunus. I'll leave that to the intellectuals. Alright hwre we go

The fight starts with Ren pullinh some Star Wars force energy, fight commences then they talk about how Tyrian wants to take Ruby, fight again, talk again about how Tyrian is a faunus and that he isn't worker for the WF, Roman Torchwick, or Cinder, fight again. Alot of on/off action, too much talking.

Ren gets kicked^^

Jaune gets kicked but he blocks it^^

Nora gets flung back in a very over dramatic way, we then see Ren charge again^^

Ren dodges a kick and jumps away, hehe stretchy leg Ren. Tyrian then runs off to his next opportunity, and it cuts to him fighting Ruby. ^^. Keep this particular move in mind, put a pin in it

Tyrian gets a combo on Ruby. In between we cut back to Crow Qrow flying desperately and running as well, not as important of a detail but I might as well mention it

As Ruby lays down with no Aura where is the rest of NJR?

Nora holding Ren^^. Ren who jumped away, he wasn't hit he actively jumped away.

And we cut to Jaune's upper body, standing there upset^^. We dont see him run, or hurt, or anything. We see him in shock then scowl. You'd think after losing Pyrrha it would be Jaune of all people trying to save Ruby.

I get that its a build up for Qrow to save the day, admittedly one of the most bad ass RWBY moments (also another moment of the adults saving the teens who think they can do everything on their own) but its only due to the fact that all of the other characters were suddenly dumb aka the writers made them dumb.

Its not until Qrow and Tyrian are fighting that the others finally make it over to Ruby (offscreen) and start to guard her.

I love this fight, its one of the best of the volume since this season only had about six of them and its what got me used to the new engine they used. But like all things RT its still got some garbage somewhere in the midst some people haven't seen yet.

Well anyway, hope yall enjoy my analysis nitpick

#rwby #rt #anti rooster teeth #rooster teeth #jaune arc #ruby rose #nora valkyrie #lie ren #qrow branwen #tyrian callows

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bonesandthebees · 2 years

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You know what really gets me about wf? The fact that Wilbur was essentially right. Like he tells Tommy not to join the syndicate. Nobody listens to him so, of course, Tommy does the rally with the knowledge of the rest of his family, behind his back (That’s gotta sting). Which is how dream notices Tommy is with the syndicate because he’s so excited about getting back to them so he can talk about everything.

To make matters worse, Wilbur then finds out, they have a fight and Tommy runs off. Then Dream finds him and kidnaps him, making him his sidekick to press him for answers. This gives Tommy a moral compass so now he doesn’t want to be in the syndicate anymore. I don’t know if irony is the right word, but it’s a fun little circle. Because by wanting to be more involved, he ends up not wanting to be involved at all.

Also, the fact that he and Wilbur had a fight before he lost his memory must already suck, but then knowing that dream taking him is related to the thing they where fighting about? Ouch. Also, would Tommy be madder at himself for not being more careful at the rally? Or for listening to Techno and lying to Wilbur which ultimately got his memories erased via mugging?

-🌲

YUPPP IT'S ALL PAINFUL IRONY

wilbur knew that tommy getting involved with the syndicate would put him at risk for stuff, and then of course that's what leads to him getting kidnapped by dream. and it definitely just stings so hard that it's something tommy didn't even tell wilbur about. miscommunication my beloved

as far as regrets go, it's all a what if scenario. what if tommy was more careful? what if tommy didn't lie to wilbur? these are things you can wonder about, but it doesn't change anything now. tommy is permanently changed by his amnesia and his trauma, and that's not gonna be undone :)

as always love your commentary spruce anon <3

#spruce anon #ask #world forgetting

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ritens · 10 months

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[wf] Nothing Is As It Was 3. Interrogation

[previous | next] - 2.3k words

He’s awake again. This time in a cavernous room, on a soft bed, with some kind of heating device placed on the ground in front of him. He sits up and groans as the uncomfortable sensation of the still moist clothes suddenly becomes obvious. Before Leander could make a better judgement of his current predicament, he quickly reaches for the clasps of his belts and gets rid of the outer layer of the armour, tossing it to the ground. Then he gets up and out of the bed and drops down on the floor by the heater.

While soaking up the warmth he takes time to inspect his surroundings. This is entirely different from the previous wake up in the forest. He briefly wonders how he is going to cope with each and every day being something else.

The room is dimly lit by candles. There’s all kinds of storage units placed along the walls, and opposite of him there’s a desk with a chair, as well as a couch. At the back of the room there’s an odd looking throne with a soft padded seat. The place is neat but uncanny, and the only thing that might make it look somewhat lived in are the art supplies left on the desk and the sketches taped to the wall here and there.

Suddenly he hears footsteps approaching. A well dressed alien being walks into the room and looks right at Leander who immediately feels like he should cover himself for being so unkempt.

The alien greets him in as friendly a tone as they can. “Good morning.”

Leander blinks in response, the alien blinks back with a single glass eye. Then another voice rings somewhere behind the alien.

“He’s awake?” A human guy walks up to the alien to stare down at Leander.

He looks familiar for some reason. And before anyone says anything more, Leander asks “Who are you?”

The man beside the alien crosses his arms. “Kinda wanted to ask you the same thing, bud. Are you a tourist? A thief perhaps?”

The alien elbows the human in the ribs. “Quit confusing our guest. I’m Luke and he’s Caserin.”

“Kyn.” Caserin interjects, rubbing his side.

“Caserin Kyn.” Luke corrects himself.

Caserin Kyn puts a hand on his cheek in something of a half-assed facepalm

“Just call me Kyn.” He says.

“Hello?? Are you there? Don’t leave us hanging now.” Kyn waves a hand in front of Leander’s face who then flinches as his mind comes back to present time.

Leander slowly nods at them both. “Okay.”

Things seem to click into place in his brain then. Kyn is familiar. The name, and appearance to an extent, matches that of a classmate on the Zariman. He remembers feeling guilty for being relieved when the Kyn from his time met an early death. The guy was irritable and brutal, unpleasant through and through. Leander had spent many afternoons stuck in a locker. He remembers leaving class quickly together with other children just so Kyn wouldn’t get the chance to single him out, pin him to a wall in a blindspot of Melica’s and singe his hair or press a paper knife to his throat all while spouting pure venom.

In a way Leander blames himself for what had happened. He had wanted to become friends with Kyn. Both of them had no parents and Leander thought this could be a unifying point. It backfired instead.

“Oh, sorry. I’m…” he stops mid-introduction. How unwise would it be to use his full name? What if they have a similar history in this timeline and Kyn recognizes him? He needs to stay in his lane and remain a stranger.

“I’m Lane.”

“Don’t mind our invasiveness. We’re merely trying to keep this place as secret as possible. Any visitor is an oddity.” Luke tries to be reassuring but instead Leander now feels like he is going to get murdered soon. These guys are a bit unnerving. A stray thought tells him he might just get tortured if the information he provides sounds off.

“Cool.” Kyn turns around on his heel and walks up to one of the storage units to open it.

“So, Lane, where’s your warframe? How did you end up here in the middle of nowhere all on your own?” he asks as he digs through clothes, meticulously sizing each and every piece with his eyes.

He asks in almost a whisper. “Um. What’s a warframe?”

Lane watches the pair throw questions at one another for a bit, then interrupts them with a curt statement. “I fell from the sky.”

Kyn and Luke immediately exchange glances with one another.

“I thought he’s a tenno?” Kyn grimaces.

“No, he definitely is. Maybe he’s lost his memory?”

“How does that make any sense? Did I knock the juice out of his head?”

“Wait. What if we’ve found ourselves a drifter?”

“Definitely a drifter.” Luke claps his hands, then points at Kyn who sticks out his tongue in return.

“Luke is a warframe. Nearly every tenno has at least one. Or at least operators do? I’m not all that knowledgeable to be honest.” Kyn gives a lousy explanation as he takes an outfit out of the storage unit at last and closes the door. He glances over at Lane and nods to himself. Then he walks back over to the guest and drops the clothes in the other's lap.

“Here. Figured you could use a suit without holes in it. Your rags belong in the fire.”

Leander looks at the clean clothes with wide eyes. He’s never seen such clean colours in fabric since a very long time ago. Maybe this Kyn is fine after all.

“That is… very nice of you. Thanks.”

Lane proceeds to get up and start undressing. Kyn blinks and looks away for politeness sake. Alright, so the drifter has nothing to be modest about. Then he notices that Luke is straight up boring a hole into Lane and grimaces as he pulls the warframe to his side. Even then Luke turns away reluctantly.

The warframe keeps the conversation going instead of waiting for Lane to get ready. “We’ve never met a drifter before but the ones we’ve heard about at least have an inkling as to what warframes are.” he comments thoughtfully with a hand on his chin. “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind telling us more about where you come from?”

Lane replies as he puts on a new shirt. The words come out a bit muffled. “I don’t remember much detail. It’s all a monotonous blur now.”

“What do you remember then?” Luke persists.

The drifter glances over at Luke’s back to try and gauge just how he should go about explaining his experience with the endless battle in the colosseum. How believable would it all sound in this universe? He has no idea if he’s aged, or gone pale from stress, or both. He has no idea what it is that he lived through. All he knows is that it felt like an eternity.

He shakes his head in an unreadable manner and drops his trousers before slipping into the new pair. Then he tries on the boots, but the soles happen to be a bit too big lengthwise. He ponders for a moment. They’re still better than his own boots which he has definitely outgrown. It feels nice to finally give some freedom and comfort to his blistered raw feet.

Luke taps his own foot impatiently and the sound brings Lane back to present time again.

“It’s like I was stuck in every sense of the word. Stuck in a colosseum, a gladiator arena in the sky. Stuck in time repeating itself over and over. Stuck in this body. Forced to remain in the same shoes figuratively and literally.” Lane speaks as nonchalantly as he can to distance himself from the experience. He observes the surprisingly still smooth skin of his hands before dressing them with gloves. “There was a task I needed to finish, but I couldn’t figure it out no matter what. I just ended up getting torn apart by creatures wearing my own face. At some point I stopped trying and ran from the task by climbing the walls and spending the rest of the day there until the maw in the sky devoured me. Sometimes…” He hesitates a bit. “I killed myself before that happened. It didn’t matter. Death itself had become repetitive. I can’t quite believe it has a finality to it here.”

Kyn and Luke exchange uncomfortable looks at that. The operator mouths a quiet “void” at the warframe. Luke cocks his head sideways. He’s not entirely sure what to do with the information given. It might just not be true and the guest could have ulterior motives. What better way to get what you want than the good old pull of the heartstrings.

The drifter sits down on the bed mostly dressed. He fiddles with his thumbs. The thought of having wasted so much time dying over and over for no reason is an uncomfortable one. He has nothing to show for it. No knowledge, no experience, no connections, nothing. And in this timeline it wouldn’t even matter. He doesn’t belong.

“I don’t know how to equip the rest of this outfit.” he changes the topic and Kyn takes it as an invitation to finally face the man again. The operator walks up to the drifter and sits down on the bed next to him to show how the outer layer of the suit works. “You put this vest on, button it up like this… The gloves also have clasps here.”

Luke squints and subconsciously folds his hands into fists. With certain disapproval he watches his operator accommodate a stranger so willingly. They had a falling out over the choices Kyn had made for the both of them during the war. Luke almost hated Kyn for abandoning their clanmates. He also hated himself for going along with it. He was the warlord and he chose rose tinted glasses above all. Maybe Kyn’s lenient behaviour has something to do with making up for his mistakes. Logically he knows that is likely the case, but his heart sings a more sinister and selfish song.

He pushes the tinge of resentment aside and crosses his arms as he tries to focus on asking more questions. “Sounds like a dimensional pocket of some kind. Likely the doing of the void. How did you get out?”

“Oh. A talking kavat arrived through a portal. She demanded I come with her so I did.” Lane shares his truth and both Kyn and Luke stare him in the eyes immediately.

“Just like that?” Kyn asks with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah. Went into the portal. Ended up here, in a parallel time as she put it.” Lane smiles awkwardly, not fully aware of how wild he sounds. To him talking felines might just seem like the norm.

“Are you feeling alright? Physically? You’re quite pale.” Concerned, the operator suspects Lane might have a fever. After all, they brought him in thoroughly drenched and did nothing about it in case Lane ended up being an enemy. But now the tables have turned and Kyn can’t help but sympathise with the drifter. He too had fought isolation for hundreds of years while waiting for the other tenno to awaken. Different but similar.

Kyn gets up to his feet and motions for Luke to take his place. “I'll whip up something easy to digest.”

“Just my stomach. It’s like something is eating me from the inside.”

“That’s hunger. When did you last eat?”

“Oh, haha. Uhhh.”

“Got it.”

Luke nods. Once Kyn is out of sight he turns back to Lane to ask one more question “You were on the Zariman were you not?”

“Yes.” Lane’s answer is stern, final. The warframe quickly realises he’s stepped on a sore spot and chooses to not press Lane for more answers for now. Though he wants to, he doesn’t need to know more than this anyway.

The drifter spends the next two weeks with Kyn and Luke who give him a chance to learn useful skills, as well as catch up with the history of the timeline they’re in. He also gets to know that the burly men he saw in the forest were grineer. And the golden bowls are partially Orokin made but have nothing to do with food. He was right to avoid them.

Lane also figures out that Kyn and Luke are a couple, or at least were, judging by the way they had introduced themselves. They tend to bicker at night and one of them often takes a walk afterwards. Usually Kyn. He then comes back in the morning, prepares a meal for Lane, and sleeps the day away, leaving Luke in charge of educating the drifter.

Luke is a bit difficult to get along with. He is knowledgeable and generally helpful but his words are so precise and at times snappy. It can become discouraging. Lane is unable to keep a conversation going for long so he chooses to remain quiet in Luke’s presence when it’s an option. There’s definitely an itch Luke can’t quite scratch and Lane suspects that him being around is to blame. It’s like he’s treading knee deep water full of broken glass. So… he decides he should probably start looking for a warframe and a place of his own soon or else the memory of the colosseum might just turn into a pleasant one.

On the bright side, he has made fairly neutral contacts and has a place to fall back to in case his own adventures bear no fruit.

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#ritens-art #ritens-writing #wf oc #struggled with continuing this. kullervo update dropped and all i could say was FUCK because of how many things match what i had planned fo #Lane's background. It's quite awkward and I feel like I need to make adjustments. on the other hand. im writing for myself.#cw bullying #warframe #wf-devan #wf-lane #wf-kyn

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