#frank castle tag pending

[voidselfshipp]

The Too Daring Devil

Cw:shooting mention,violence ment.

Ask to tag. Ok to rb.

Summary: Frank introduces Daredevil to the overseer. Things get out of hand.

Taglist: @tex-treasures @the-league-of-vigilantes @sectvmsemprae

Daredevil and the punisher sneak into the house by the Fire emergency stair case.

As they enter they see a bed, a pc and a closet amongst other things.

-- so this is the overseers house ?-- asked Daredevil.

-- yeah, last time I sneaked in she almost shoots me in the face-- Frank said opening the door to the kitchen-- hey jerico! Im here with that client I told you about!

Jerico Turned around to face the vigilantes, she crosses her arms-- you have my keys , Frank, Cant you just come in like a normal person?

-- wait you have her keys?!-- asked Matt.

-- yeah I do, oh, carefull with the bird!-- castle commented.

--the bird?!-- Daredevil suddely felt something lunging at him and missing him by a hair.

-- that Rat with wings doesnt like Newcomers-- quipped the punisher-- it almost rips my hair out

Jerico laughed-- ian! They are alright! Come here-- the hawk flies to his owners shoulder-- okay, what do you guys need?

Matt walks towards her-- I need information, Frank told me that if theres someone that knows everything thats happening in the city, its you

She raised a brow -- did he now?

The punisher blushes scoffing-- dont let it get to your ego, nosy..

-- oh im nosy now?-- she teased, turning her attention to Daredevil-- sure, whatever you need I can get, just so you know, im doing this as a favor for Frank, I owe Him, Next time youll have to pay

Matt chuckles-- yeah he told me that, I dont suppose you live off of charity

After telling her what he needs the vigilantes sit by on the couch as she ruminishes through her computer and camera, extracting what she needs.

When she comes by she finds castle making coffee-- id say make yourselves at home, seems that you Beated me to it

Frank rolled his eyes handing her a mug, she then walks towards Daredevil and gives him an USB-- here, youll be able to print them safely, though, thats the half of the Information, the rest I dont have but, if youre willing we can meet once I got it

--Sure, youll need a way of contacting Me, though-- Matt said.

--i already got your number, so , youre the lawyer that took his case huh? Gotta thank you for that

Daredevil nodded-- well, overseer, ill see you around-- he stood up ready to leave.

Frank finished his coffee and kissed the top of jericos head-- goodnight, nosy

--Hey, text me when you get home okay?

-- c'mon you know nobody is gonna mess with me-- the punisher said.

-- I dont care, castle, text me

He rolled his eyes-- okay, okay I Will

They leave through the Window, making her exhale deeply in annoyance.

After some weeks jeri called Matt and arranged a meeting place.

Matt entered the café, with his Cane he walks to a dar corner where jerico was sitting.

-- hey look who it is-- she teased.

Daredevil sits with her-- afternoon to you too

She giggled , and he could hear her heart skip a beat-- yeah ,afternoon, heres the rest of the Information

He took the stack of papers and photos and shoved them into his bag.

--So-- started jerico-- are you gonna order something?

-- what?

-- well its kinda sketchy if I hand you a stack of papers and you just leave, try and make it seem we are talking about work!

Matt nodded and when he heard a waiter pass by he ordered.

-- 'the overseer' thats a name-- he joked.

-- says 'Daredevil'-- she joked back.

-- touché...-- admitted Daredevil nodding-- so, you and castle, how did that happend? If its okay to ask...

Jerico chuckles-- well he was looking for the culprits of his familys murder, and he came to me, I took pity on him and handed the info for free, we spent a lot of time togheter, got to know eachother and we fought, badly, then we went our separate ways.

One night he needs info for Homeland security, sneaks into my house and well, we make up and get togheter...

-- thats a very nice story-- Matt said-- didnt take him as a feelings guy..., I mean, I didnt think hed say sorry

-- neither did I and here we are-- she said-- I didnt expect the devil of hells kitchen being this nice

Daredevil laughed softly-- yeah? What you though I was a prick?

-- well, you get along with Frank so--

They share a laugh and Keep talking until its night time, Matt pays and as they stand there on the sidewalk he asks-- let me walk you home?...

-- huh, sure-- she answered, once they get there he says.

-- well ill be leaving...

--stay-- jerico pleads-- its late already

-- I can--

-- I can take care of myself-- she interrupts him-- Frank gives me the same bullshit-- she yanks him into her house and locks the door-- its late, just stay here, I can take the couch.

-- the couch? Nono I Will

-- no, Matt, you take the bed

He sighs-- itd be rude for me to take the bed

-- says who?-- she asked.

-- well if you wanna share...-- Matt trailed off thinking she'd back off.

How wrong she was.

Jeri took a look at him-- sharing a bed with a guy as handsome as you? Sure-- she smiled and Walked to her bed-- come on now, im tired

Daredevil stands there speechless before chasing after her.

-- turn around-- she says.

--You know I cant see-- commented Matt in response.

He hears her huff and takes off her clothes to change into something more comfortable.

-- oh wipe that stupid grin off your face!-- jerico exclaimed with her cheeks red.

He could hear her fastening heartbeat, he assumed she must be blushing, it only makes his grin grow,-- the tough overseer, nobody messes with her, blushing over a changing clothes Infront of a blind Man -- at this point he was teasing, but then he falls to the bed, arms held togheter by the wrists with jericos grip.

Her other hand Next to his side for support as her legs straddle Him to the matress-- Keep it up and youll find why nobody messes with me, murdock!

She was closer than he liked.

Theres a silence where their faces stand way too close to eachother.

-- s sorry i-- jeri backs off and sits on matts lap, who sits up letting her get into bed.

-- its okay, I went overboard...

He lays besides her with their backs pressed against eachother, Cheeks Burning.

Next Day , Matt finds himself tangled with jericos limbs.

He sighs thinking of the beating he might receive if Frank finds out about this, speacially beacuse jerico was wearing only a shirt besides her undergarments.

He tries to break his grip but fails miserably, sighing he lets himself melt in her embrace.

Hes about to fall asleep when he hears a shocked gasp and a loud thud.

-- are you okay?-- he asked as jeri stands up.

-- yeah...yeah..just took me by surprise...

As they eat breakfast Matt says-- I need some more info,ill pay up

-- no no-- jer hands him his coffee-- its for free

-- what? No, let me--

-- you helped castle, you took up his case, im forever thankfull, besides...-- her hand goes up to his bicep-- im beginning to like you, mr. Murdock...

Matt chuckles leaning in, his spare hand sneaking to her waist-- the feeling Is mutual ms...?

--gomez...

--ms. Gomez...

After their not so subtle flirting Matt leaves for work.

They kept talking to eachother, making Matt laugh in his Office and getting teased by foggy.

After a bit they Keep seeing eachother outside work, one night jerico invited Matt to eat dinner.

They are at her house, talking and waiting for the food to be done.

-- have you ever ball danced?--She asked.

--No,not really-- he said.

She took his hand and yanked Him to dance, her hands on his bíceps and his arms around her waist.

They rock back and forth.

--This...this is nice-- Matt said.

-- yeah its nice, isnt it?

He leans in-- do you think Frank is going to beat my ass if I do this?

--Do what--?

He kisses her briefly, and lets out a deep chuckle as he hears her heart pumping like it was going to beat out of her chest.

-- come here you-- she kisses him again yanking him from the edges of his shirts collar.

Hugging her tighter, Matt kissed back, smiling like an idiot.

-- and about castle? Dont worry im sure he wont mind...-- she flirted.

After eating they cuddled under the blankets.

-- promise me that you wont fall on your ass tomorrow when you find me cuddling you

--haha, go fuck yourself Matt...

--on it, baby

[spidercxp]

Peter vc: *puts on best stoic and brooding voice* Hi! I’m Frank Castle and I became the Ghost Rider in a messed up earth so I don’t know current pop culture. Much like my normal self I don’t know any pop culture, honestly. I’MA KILL THANOS! *evil Rider spirit growls*

[thewhumperinwhite]

WKW: Presentable

Previous: Teaser 1 and Teaser 2.

Casually tagging @luminouswhump​, please enjoy some prince whump ~<3

TW for: Forced stripping, though it’s not sexualized; nonconsensual touching; noncon isn’t explicitly threatened but Andry worries about it; dissociation; amputation.

----

Andry is still upright. And Asher is alive, with the tacit understanding that he will remain so in the short term, pending Andry’s cooperation. That means the current situation is survivable. So Andry will survive.

By the time Andry is seated beside a washbasin in one of the guest suites, he is genuinely not certain how he arrived there. He remembers a string of images and sensations— twelve years of fencing lessons spinning away from him in a gout of blood; the sharp pain of scissors slicing carelessly through the shell of his left ear; Asher sitting stiffly on their mother’s bed, surrounded by soldiers in black armor— but cannot arrange them into any meaningful order.

The man who has brought him here seems to be Crane’s personal servant. He cannot be much older than Andry himself, though he is slightly larger; his skin is the light warm brown Andry understands is common among Leisevans, but his hair is a dull silver, and his eyes are an improbable bright gold. He has not told Andry his name. 

Crane’s servant gives the room a cursory examination, sets down a bucket of clean water and a set of clean clothes, locates a pile of drying cloths. Then he turns his faery eyes on Andry with the same thoughtful frown.

“What a mess,” the man mutters, in Leisevan.

There have been a variety of hands on Andry today. They have tangled in his hair, torn off the overshirt bearing his father’s colors, clamped a modified set of manacles marked with a strange rune over his severed wrist. They have been, to a one, rough and impersonal, and painful more than not. Whatever is coming now is... more intimate, in a way that makes Andry’s chest slightly tight, but ultimately only more of the same. Survivable.

Crane’s servant sighs, and then he drops to his knees in front of Andry and dips a cloth in the water bucket. Where Andry is seated, on a low stool beside the washbasin, the man is now looking up at him; Andry cannot pinpoint why that startles him the way it does.

Andry has not had access to a looking glass in over twenty-four hours, so he knows little except that his face and back are tacky with blood, his hair matted with it. The man frowns up into Andry’s face, and Andry stares numbly back, and then the man reaches up and presses the cloth to the cut at Andry’s hairline where the soldier’s armored fist struck him to the floor.

 Andry draws in a sharp breath before he can stop himself, and then tenses for the answering blow he knows must be coming— but the servant just hums mildly in response, and cups his other hand around Andry’s jaw to steady his head, still with that thoughtful frown on his face. The cloth stings against the cut, but the man does not dig it in, only wipes the blood from his forehead, his touch businesslike but not rough.

The man cleans the blood from Andry’s forehead and then his lips and chin, and when his warm hands work their way into Andry’s uneven, blood-matted hair, Andry feels his eyes slide shut and lets out a long breath without really meaning to.

When the cloth presses against Andry’s damaged ear, he holds on to the sharp sting of the soap against the cut and forces himself all the way back to awareness, and opens his eyes halfway to look at Crane’s servant, whose face is very close to his.

“What is your name?” Andry asks him, his voice coming out low and husky. 

The man pauses in his ministrations, meets Andry’s eyes with some suspicion. “It’s Thorne,” he says after a moment. Then he moves on to scrubbing blood from the side of Andry’s throat, eye contact lost. “And you’re Andry Fourshield, the Summer Prince.” He smirks, a shadow of Morden’s vicious grin, and Andry can’t hold back a small shiver. “Shall I address you as ‘Your Highness’?”

It’s obvious he expects Andry to straighten and demand respect. Andry drops his eyes humbly instead. “Just Andry, please,” he says quietly.

Thorne laughs quietly, squeezing the bloody rag over the bucket. “They didn’t tell me you were so modest, Your Highness,” he says, and then he pulls a delicate silver key from his pocket and unlocks the iron cover Crane has clamped over the stump of Andry’s wrist. 

Thorne looks down at Andry’s ruined sword arm with frank curiosity, loosely holding Andry’s wrists in his lap. The stump is largely closed over, a mass of scar tissue where a working hand used to be. Andry looks down at it too, ignoring the low buzzing that has begin in his ears.

Thorne lets out a low whistle. “Heron knows his shit,” he says— and he says it in Craetan, like he’s addressing it to Andry. He even looks up at Andry, interested for apparently the first time. “Does it even still hurt?”

Andry stares at him. What answer does the man expect?

“Better without the cover,” he says honestly. “The cold air helps.”

Thorne’s brief open expression slams shut like a castle drawbridge. Andry curses himself.

“I’m sure,” Thorne says flatly, dropping Andry’s hands. “Don’t get any ideas, those cuffs are going back on the second you’re presentable.” Thorne gets to his feet, and nods curtly at Andry. “Stand up.”

Andry looks at him, feeling like he’s failed a test without knowing the questions. But the moment has passed, now; he pulls himself up, unsteadily, using the washbasin for support. 

When Andry is upright, Thorne tosses him a wet cloth. “Alright, Your Highness. Strip down and clean yourself up.”

Andry stares at him, his ears ringing. “And—what, you’re just going to stand there and stare at me?”

Thorne snorts, unimpressed. “Yes.”

Andry frowns. “I have no reason to run. Your soldiers have filled this place to the rafters; where would I go?”

Thorne shakes his head, amused. “Nowhere, Your Highness. Because I’ll be watching you.”

Andry looks at him. The man is his own age, and handsome in a sharp-toothed, yellow-eyed way. Andry is far too tired to decide if this makes stripping in front of him better or worse. He—does not want to, either way. But, depending on this man’s rank, any goodwill he can earn with compliance is worth far more than the negligible chance of escape offered by one moment of reduced supervision in a castle full of enemy soldiers. And far more than any lingering self-respect he might still have, Andry reminds himself firmly. He tugs his undershirt off over his head.

Thorne eyes Andry’s bared chest with interest, but his expression is more curious than lascivious. Andry can see him taking note of the pattern of bruises along his side where a booted soldier kicked him when he was already on the floor, and the prominence of his ribcage after three weeks of siege rations. 

Andry is— annoyed at his own relief. It would be useful if Crane’s servant wanted him, he tells himself. He still turns his back when he tugs down his breeches.

Andry half-expects Thorne to ask about the scars across his back and leave him to reconcile his need to earn the man’s sympathy with his deep desire not to answer, but Thorne just watches him silently until he has wiped as much blood and grime from his body as he is likely to without a full soak in the washtub, and then tosses him the clean set of clothes without a word. That shouldn’t be a relief either, and he certainly shouldn’t feel grateful, but in his bone-deep exhaustion, Andry is willing to allow himself the easy out, this one last time.

[whoisleft-rp]

** HAPPY THREE YEAR ANNIVERSARY, WHO IS LEFT ! **

Wow. Wow. Typing this out, it almost doesn’t feel entirely real. Today, November 6th, 2018 marks the official anniversary of THREE FULL CALENDAR YEARS since Who Is Left first opened our doors back in 2015. When we started this group we were absolutely optimistic about the future and excited about all the potential we saw in a group like this. There were nights that Admin Amanda would be driving somewhere and pull over, off the road, so that she could read the first couple apps that had trickled in. There were days that Admin Lauren rattled off idea after idea to make this group and its launch the best it could be – we never got tired of talking about it. Countless text messages back and forth, excited calls to one another, endless nights planning out all the details: it was a labor of love, and we can’t believe how much we see it reflected back at us still even three years down the line.

In the beginning, we were just trying to create the type of group that each of us wanted to be a part of in this RPC – a fair, collaborative, fun, challenging, constantly engaging and long-lasting group that would open its doors to everyone with a creative spark and close its doors to petty drama, anon hate, admin favoritism and so many other things we’d had to weather in the past just to do what we loved most, and what we’ve all been brought together to do: just write and create in a safe space. We made the space, and you’ve all given us your time and wonderful words and character development to make it seriously special and unique to our group of writers.

Even three years ago, at the height of our optimism and excitement about all this group might become, we couldn’t imagine we would be lucky enough to be here. Celebrating three years past – and many more to come – with a collection of the most thought-provoking, creative, talented, hilarious, angst-inducing, wonderful humans that we’ve ever had the pleasure to write with. Every single day we get to be a part of WIL is a privilege. We’ve seen lifelong friendships formed, globes traveled and new takes on old stories unfold before our eyes. After this long, there’s not much else to say other than this:

We love you all. We love this group. And we’re not going anywhere – we’ll be here as long as you are!

LET’S CELEBRATE !

SEND SOME LOVE // For the rest of the week, the Who Is Left team is all encouraged to send some anonymous (or not so anonymous) love to their fellow writers. The admins are going to make sure that nobody goes without a message, but ideally we’d love to see everyone’s inboxes flooded with affection, no matter how long they’ve been in the group. Take a minute out of your day to tell your fellow writers what you like best about their writing style, plotting skills or OOC attitude! It’s been three years. Remind everyone why you love that they’re here!

SPARK SOME MUSE // Feel free to reblog lots of inbox memes, honest hours, ‘ask me anything’ games, headcanon prompts and more! We love seeing the dash filled up with reminders of how connected you all are to your characters and how in-depth your knowledge of them goes…plus, they’re plain fun, and a great way to distract yourself and refresh your muses.

COLLABORATION STATION // Have an idea for an event? A new way of doing things? Changes to the app? Even new character bios? We want to hear from you, so here’s just a gentle reminder that our door is always open and that we’re always all ears for any changes that will make this group more fun or better run for each and every one of you!

SEEING DOUBLE || BODY SWAP EVENT !

Have you ever woken up and felt a bit… out of sorts? Almost like your body wasn’t...well….your body?

Body Swap Event: The Basics;

Your character has swapped bodies with the partner listed below. Nobody knows how, nobody knows why, and nobody knows how to put things back to normal. For 24 hours, count on being stuck in the skin of somebody new, walking a mile in their shoes, trying to live their lives...etc. You get the picture.

No, this does NOT count ‘in canon’. It’s a fun event that we should all feel free to go wild with, without worrying about upending or upsetting any existing plots or relationships. Although it takes place in our canon world, it’s closer to an AU Event than a plot drop.

That being said, please make sure that ‘Body Swap’ is clearly in the title of any threads you begin – to differentiate from the existing starters and threads on the dashboard. Please also tag starters with WhoIsLeftSwap.

For the purposes of your threads, assume that only you and your partner are the ones who’ve swapped bodies. For instance, if Sirius starts a thread and Mulciber, who he’s partnered with, replies to that thread, they are in each other’s bodies. However, if Sirius posts that same open starter and Remus jumps on that thread, it’s Remus as Remus who is replying, not Remus in Brigitte Crabbe’s body.

We know what you’re thinking - won’t that be a lot of starters? Yes! Probably! Which is why we’re encouraging, much like the gossip event, a bunch of smaller gif chats. We love and appreciate how many paras are on the dash here, and we intend to keep it that way – but after three years of writing, let’s face it, the equivalent of several short novels, we welcome everyone to break up their workload a little bit and get some shorter chats rolling to keep the creativity flowing.

Starters for this event will be allowed from now through 11:59 PM on Sunday, November 11th.

The Pairings; 

To the future...and beyond !

Our plan – as of right now, and pending minor adjustments – is as follows. Over the next couple of weeks, we’re going to wind down November and ring in the first half of December 1977! From there, holiday break for the students will commence, meaning either a stay at the castle or trips home for Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Non-Denominational Dinners and New Years’ Eve. The holidays in-game will be marked by a fun Secret Santa event for our members to participate in OOC.

After New Years, we won’t roll into 1978 right away – first, we’ll have a week dedicated to TIMELINE WEEK, a time to explore threads that take place in either our characters’ pasts or futures.

Following that, January 1978 will continue...and our war events will get much, much more intense. We also have many ideas up our sleeves for future Plot Prompt Fridays, including askbox memes, headcanon generators and tasks that’ll have you hitting up Pinterest for all the aesthetic images you can handle.

___

Hey, you !  Join our family !

Send in an application, or feel free to ask us anything on your mind about our process, open characters or whatever else! 

Open characters that we’d love to see filled include:

Adelaide Dubois

Edgar Bones

Emmeline Vance

Frank Longbottom

Daniyah Burke

Lucius Malfoy

Andromeda Black

Igor Karkaroff

Amelia Bones

Severus Snape

Marya Warrington

Gideon or Fabian Prewett

Caradoc Dearborn

[iamchrissi]

Castles build in the air

So... Amanda and Winona. Because why not? Amanda is recently divorced from Sarek, in what I think is a similar situation to Uhura and Spock in STID, without the almost death, but with Sarek unintentionally making Amanda feel like he didn't really care for her, and the two of them never talking it out, and then him thinking that if she wants to leave him, it might be the right thing for her even though it's breaking his heart, and like... yeah. It's kind of messy, and they are both heartbroken. And then Amanda meets Winona, who is like, a force of nature, and so different from Sarek, and also all kinds of awesome. (I can't write Winona as an abusive asshole, so in my headcanon she didn't know that Frank was abusing her sons and after the car-of-the-cliff stunt she came home, found out, and kicked Franks ass so hard would have left the planet in fear of her if he wasn't in prison. And then, she stayed home for a year and was awesome with Jim, who adores her, until Jim decided he wanted to try out this awesome schooling program.)

Amanda Grayson meets Winona Kirk on a sunny Friday afternoon. Well, Winona runs into her, actually. Complete with spilled coffee and everything. It's a little bit of a mess.

“I'm really sorry about this.” The blonde woman says. Amanda thinks she's seen her before, somewhere, but she can't really place her. Which is kind of strange, because Amanda is really good at remembering faces, and she doesn't think she'd forget such a beautiful woman.

“Are you okay?” The woman asks, and Amanda realizes she has been staring for the past few moments. She shakes herself, takes stock of her skirt (only a few splashes on it, probably difficult to clean but that's what replicators are for) and her arm (there shouldn't be any burns, the coffee was already half cold), and then nods.

“I'm really sorry, I didn't look where I was going. Seems I got too used to people standing to the sides when I'm going somewhere. I'm Captain of a Starfleet ship, you know, so usually I don't really have to watch where I'm going. I'm Winona, Winona Kirk, by the way. May I buy you a new coffee?” The women, Winona Kirk (the Kelvin widow, and now Amanda remembers watching the memorial, with a young, defiant Winona Kirk and her baby son, the picture that is still shown sometimes when people want to feel patriotic) says with a breathtaking speed. For a moment, all Amanda can do is stare.

“It's alright, fine.” She finally stutters, and curses herself in the next instant. She's a linguist, a famous, respected one, she speaks dozens of languages and has PhDs in seven of them, and yet, here she is, stuttering in the language that she grew up using.

“Oh come on, it's no trouble. You look like you could use something. Maybe a drink? I could use a drink.” Winona (or should she call her Captain Kirk? She'd said that, before, that she is a Starfleet Captain, and most Captain's Amanda knows are extremely proud of their titles) says, handing Amanda a napkin to wipe the coffee of her arm before taking Amanda's hand and pulling her with her.

For a moment, Amanda can only stare at where their hands are joined, shocked at the casual contact. On Vulcan, this would have been a punishable offense, and Amanda wonders if it's the years on her ex-husbands planet that have made her skittish. But then she shakes herself. No, this is not normal, she thinks, not even on earth. This seems to be something that is entirely Winona Kirk.

“A coffee would be nice.” She says, finally, and Winona grins. It's a pretty grin. A very pretty grin, mischievious and clever and with bright blue eyes that only barely hide old wounds.

“Sure you don't want a drink? A drink would help you relax. And I know this awesome bar...” Is Amanda imagining it, or is Winona Kirk flirting with her? She must be imagining it. To little adult human contact in the last few years. She just needs to have a little fling with someone, preferably without Spock ever knowing, and she'll be able to handle situations like this much better.

“I can't. My son is coming home from school soon, and … I don't think having a drink before discussing his homework would be beneficial.” She almost, almost blushes. But maybe the years on Vulcan did her good, after all, because she doesn't.

“Beneficial?” Winona snorts. “Interesting word choice. But I know what you mean. My Jimmy is a freaking genius. I mean, both my boys are, but Jimmy is on another level. When he really starts talking about something that interests him, if that something isn't engineering and/or machines, I'm very lost very fast.”

They've reached a cafe. Winona pulls Amanda in, and Amanda can't help but notice that Winona still hasn't let go of her hand. It should be disconcerting, she thinks, but it's actually kind of nice. Different, but nice.

There's a table by the window, and the moment they sit down a waitress materializes next to them and hands them the menu. Winona doesn't even bother looking at hers, just smiles at the waitress.

“Just a black coffee, dear. But wait until my friend here, wait, what's your name?” It seems that Winona has only now noticed that Amanda has not introduced herself, yet. She looks at her expectantly, and this time, Amanda does feel herself blushing.

“Amanda. Amanda Grayson.” She says, and she's proud of herself because at least she's not stuttering. Which is a really low bar, because she remembers people being terrified of her on Vulcan, and she decides that this is definitively on Winona, and not on her.

“And I'll take a black coffee, too.” Amanda says, and hands the waitress the card back. The waitress, whose name tag identifies her as Sara, nods, and leaves.

“Amanda Grayson... I think I've heard that name before.” Winona says, and scrunches her nose a bit. It should not be this adorable, Amanda thinks, but it is. “Weren't you then linguistic genius who revolutionized the way Vulcan is taught to Earth students?”

Well, at least Winona doesn't remember her as the ex wife of the Vulcan Ambassador who must be the only woman who's ever managed to have a truly ugly divorce with a Vulcan. Small mercies.

“I wouldn't say I revolutionized it, but I did work on it, yes.” Amanda says, and Winona grins again. That grin is totally unfair. And Amanda really needs to get that pend up energy out of her system, because she is pretty sure Winona is not intending to flirt with her.

“My Jimmy really liked the new way it's taught, anyway. He likes Vulcan as a language, says it's just as logical as machines. Which, honestly, I don't really see, but to him it apparently makes sense, so I assume he's right.” Talking a mile a minute is apparently normal with Winona. It's kind of charming, Amanda thinks.

“He sounds like a special little boy.” Amanda says, and thinks of her own special little boy, probably buried in his PADD right now, studying all sorts of things. She should make him plomek soup tonight, she knows he missed it, no matter how much he insists that preferring one food to another, equally nutritious one to be illogical.

“He is. I miss him quite a lot, to be honest. He's not here, currently. He's with his aunt and uncle on Tarsus IV. That's one of the small colonies, with an amazing schooling program. He begged me to let him go, and he seems really happy there, but by the stars I miss him.” That would explain why Winona can be Captain of a starship despite having a son that can't be older than twelve, Amanda realizes. But Tarsus IV is quite a distance from here, too far for personal com calls. Amanda doesn't think she could stand to have her son so far away from her.

“I've heard of the program. My son considered it, but in the end he chose to continue study as he does now. It's probably because of the divorce, to be honest. I feel bad, because my son shouldn't have to accommodate my life, but...” She usually isn't this open with strangers, or near strangers, anyway, but Winona just shared something incredibly personal, and Amanda can't help but return the favor.

“Oh, divorces are ugly. Even in the best case scenario, and I think we both know how often that happens. What did your ex do to give you full custody? Do you need me to beat him up?” Winona sounds absolutely serious about it, and for a moment, Amanda amuses herself with the mental image of Winona Kirk, armed with a Starfleet issued phaser, attacking a completely bewildered Sarek. Then she shakes her head.

“We just... didn't fit. And I don't have full custody, but my ex decided that it is more logical for Spock, that's our son, to visit him on Vulcan for three months at a time every year than for us to travel the whole time or for him to move here indefinitely. So, yeah.” Amanda holds her breath, waits for the judging to start. She just admitted to having married a Vulcan. She remembers very well the amount of shit her friends gave her for that, and how even her parents had to force their smiles at the wedding.

“Better to end it than to let it harm the kid, is what I say.” Winona tells her, and there's compassion in her eyes, as well as something like... grief, or guilt. Amanda considers asking, but decides that they probably don't know each other well enough for that.

“The divorce is recent, I guess?” Winona asks as their coffees arrive. The cups are very nice, Amanda notices, and the coffee smells amazing. She'd forgotten how much she missed good coffee.

“Not that recent. I mean, our split is not that recent. But it was finalized recently, and things are a bit chaotic right now. I have a flat in the city, but I want to move away from.... some people here, so I tried to get a place to live that's not here, but there are a lot less fitting places then I thought there'd be. That's what I was doing this afternoon, meeting with a potential landlord, but I honestly wasn't impressed.” The man had tried to tell her that the house he offered was the best she'd ever get, when in reality it was little more than two rooms and a kitchen that would need immediate fixing.

“You could go to the farm.” Winona said. “My farm. Not that there is much farming to be done, but George's grandparents were farmers, and the house is nice. It's rather remote, so I'm not sure how you'd like it, but Sam goes to a school on Mars, Jimmy's on Tarsus, and I ship out again on Monday. You could live there at least until you found something more permanent.”

“I … I can't...” And great, Amanda is stuttering again. It's definitively Winona, not her. Who offers a person they've known for all of ten minutes to go live at their home? Even if it is empty?

“Oh bullshit. Of course you can. It can't be easy here in San Fran, with so many expectations on being the Vulcan Ambassador's ex wife, and in Riverside nobody would know that. Nobody knowing you means no expectations. You can figure yourself out, and then think about how you want to go on.” So Winona had figured out the whole Ambassador thing. But without judging. That is... kind of awesome.

“You've known me for ten minutes.” Amanda says, but she can't help but imagine it. Riverside sounds very rural, and maybe Spock would have problems in school, but he'll probably have those problems everywhere. The curse of being a child of a Vulcan father and a human mother. And for nobody to bother her about her ex.... that sounds a bit like paradise.

“I'm a good judge of character.” Winona says, then immediately winces. “Usually. And it's not like I'm giving you custody of my kids, just the empty house.” Something flashes over her eyes as she says it, something dark, and guilty, but Amanda doesn't ask. Winona is not shy, if she wants Amanda to know, she'll tell her.

“It's... an amazing offer. I'm honored. I don't want to impose, but...” She's only sort of stuttering now, and at least this time she's remembering her manners. She's definitively blaming it on Winona, and her incredible presence, but maybe Amanda is getting a hang of how to deal with it.

“I could show you around this later? Or no, you said your kid comes home. Tomorrow? We could beam out, no need for a shuttle, that would take ages. I hope you don't mind beaming, my ma did. It was terrible, she got sick every single time.” Winona is grinning again, and Amanda does absolutely not hold her breath.

“Beaming is not a problem.” She says, thinking. “I think I'd like to bring Spock, if that's okay? He should have a say in where we live. And of course we'll have to discuss rent and all of that.”

“You don't have to pay rent, Amanda.” Winona says, rolling her eyes fondly. “Nobody lives there, you'd be doing me a favor if you made sure the place is still in one piece, really.”

“I will pay rent. I like you, but if I live at your place, we should do it the right way. I want to get back on my feet, and that includes not relying on everybody else.” Amanda's voice is firm, and this feels more like her, more like the woman she likes to think she is.

Winona cocks her head, and looks at her. Then she smiles. “Okay. But I'm not having you pay an unreasonable amount, and we'll definitively count the fact that you'll basically be keeping the house for me while I'm gone in the whole thing.”

Amanda considers arguing, but a part of her that sounds suspiciously like Sarek says that Winona does not seem like she's going to be swayed further on this topic, and anyway, it would be more logical to discuss this after Amanda has seen the house, given that it is no use to discuss something that might never be relevant.

She drinks the last sip of her coffee, just as her PADD pings to remind her that Spock will be home within the next ten minutes. She hadn't realized that it's that late already, but then again, she thinks that Winona is someone who can quite literally make one forget time.

“If you give me your com number, I can call you tomorrow. Would ten in the morning be okay for you?” She asks, pulling out her PADD. Winona does the same.

“Ten is perfect. I warn you: It's not going to be all that cleaned up, I never really got the hang out of housework, but it shouldn't be too bad. I don't know how important cleanliness is to you, but my ma was really stuck on it, and I guess I just kind of unconsciously wanted to be the opposite of that.” Amanda saves her com number, and the waitress comes back.

“Do you pay together or not?” She asks, smiling pleasantly. Amanda reaches for her card, but Winona shakes her head.

“I'll pay for both of us. No, Amanda, don't argue this, I spilled your coffee, this is only fair. Here's my credit information.” Winona says to the waitress, who Amanda realizes is the same one as before. Sarah.

“Will you be home in time?” Winona asks her. Amanda nods. She lives rather close by, but she'll need to go now if she wants to change before Spock arrives. She stands up.

“I'll com you.” Winona says, standing up too, and before Amanda knows what's happening the other woman hugs her. She smells like engine oil, Amanda thinks, and then Winona's pulling away again. Amanda is definitively not flustered.

“I'll see you tomorrow.” She says, and Winona smiles blindingly. Amanda can't help but smile back. And if it takes her a bit longer to come home than usual, well, that's nothing anybody needs to know.

The next morning, Amanda wakes up at eight am. She always does. Her son is already up, as always. She can hear him walk around in the kitchen, probably preparing breakfast for them. He's sweet like that.

After a quick sonic shower, she stands in front of her drawer and wonders what to wear. None of her Vulcan robes, of course. Maybe that nice green dress? It's old, back from before she was married, but it should still fit. Then again, this is not a formal meeting. This is going to see a … well, friend? … and looking at the house. And possibly making arrangements to move in there for a bit.

Maybe the blue skirt? It's a long one, swishy and with a nice, bright blue pattern on it. It makes her look young, too young? But no. She's not old, and anyway, she'll be there with her fourteen year old son. There's no possible way for her to seem too young.

… And now she's obsessing over her cloths. Maybe it's just the adjustment, after all, on Vulcan, she just wore robes, and never truly wondered what they looked like. Definitively just the adjustment.

She finally puts on the skirt and a nice, black blouse, and goes to meet her son. He is wearing the jeans she bought him, and is trying very hard not to look uncomfortable. It is a bit of a strange sight, but she thought that this way, he might not be bullied as much as he was on Vulcan.

“I wish you a good morning, Spock.” She says, laying her hand on his head for a short moment. It's as close to a kiss on the forehead as she is going to get, and he gives her a small smile that makes all her worries seem inconsequential.

“A good morning to you too, Mother.” He says, offering her a coffee. It's not the Vulcan kind, she notes, and thanks him. The table is set with lots and lots of fruit, including a nice red apple. Amanda smiles, and takes it.

“We have about one and a half hour until we have to depart to meet Winona.” She tells her son. You don't have to come if you'd prefer to stay here, but as the point of the meeting is to determinate whether the house is sufficient for us to live in for a few weeks or months until we find something more permanent, it would be useful to have you there to see if you consider it acceptable.” She's talking Vulcan again, even if she uses Standard. She knows her son likes it that way, when everything is clear and there are as little ambiguities as possible.

“It is logical to accompany you, Mother. It would be interesting to meet this woman that's offered us a place to live at at such short notice.” Translation: He can barely contain his curiosity as to why she is considering to accept this offer when she has shot down the last ones. She can understand that.

“You can wear Vulcan robes to the meeting if that is more comfortable for you. I know you dislike jeans and sweatshirts.” Amanda tells him. Spock looks at her for a moment, then shakes his head.

“As we will live on Earth for quite some time, it is only logical for me to start getting used to the typical attire here. And given that I, too, am half human, it would be illogical for me to prefer Vulcan clothing.” He sounds too old for his fourteen years, but Amanda has long since accepted that.

“Alright. But just know, I'm proud of you no matter what you wear, or how you choose to act. You are my son, and I love you very much, okay?” Sarek would have considered this an illogical statement, given that a mother loving her son is only logical and therefore unnecessary to verbalize, but Amanda is human, and she thinks that Spock definitively needs to hear this. And the way Spock looks at her, she is right.

Amanda makes sure they are perfectly on time. Actually, she makes sure they arrive at the meeting point she and Winona discussed over coms yesterday five minutes early. Spock says nothing. He is wearing a cap that covers his ears. Winona is reminded of the scarfs she used to wrap around her head on Vulcan, always making sure that her human ears aren't the first thing people notice about her, and suddenly, she feels guilty for taking Spock to a planet where he feels the need to cover his ears. But then again, she thinks, it's not as if Spock was really accepted by the Vulcan children either.

Winona is five minutes late, hurrying down the streets and shouting an apology before she is even properly there. Then she pulls Amanda into a hug, her blonde hair brushing over Amanda's cheek, and offers Spock a near flawless taal. Spock, after a moment of surprise, returns the gesture, and Winona grins at him.

“It's nice to meet you, Spock. I hope you'll like the house.” She says in a soft tone that makes it impossible not to remember that Winona is a mom too, and something warm blossoms in Amanda's chest.

“Let's go!” Winona says, and starts walking towards the public transporter. There's thankfully no queue, and within few seconds they stand on a small town square. It's noticeably warmer than in San Francisco, and Amanda is glad she chose the skirt instead of the overly formal dress.

“It's not that far from here, we can walk. And I can show you the city while we go, so win-win.” Winona says, and starts talking about Riverside. Amanda had looked it up yesterday, after meeting Winona, and learned that Riverside is one of the big construction sites for Starfleet, and that apart from that, it is a rather rural place, with mostly construction workers and farmers living here.

Winona points out the school (which Spock most likely won't attend, given that he is following the Vulcan syllabus instead of the human one), the post office (which Amanda probably will get to know well, if she moves here, considering her translation work and the often physical copies of the books she likes), a couple bars (Amanda already knows she won't go anywhere near those after dusk) and a the only local restaurant that serves offworld food. Spock looks around, curious but restraint, and Amanda thinks he could like it here.

At least it's warmer than New York, where Amanda grew up.

 Then they leave the town, walking over a deserted road between the fields. It's peaceful, almost like in some of the old movies Amanda watched when she was younger. Winona has a sort of wistful expression on her face, as though she is recalling better times, and Amanda      wonders if she is thinking of her late husband.  

“There it is!” Winona says finally, pointing towards a nice looking little house a bit off the street. It looks kind of sweet, in that old movie way, and very human. Amanda shoots a look to her son, but Spock just seems intrigued.

“It looks nice.” Amanda says, because she suddenly realizes that for the last twenty minutes, Winona has more or less exclusively done the talking. It's not her smoothest compliment, but Winona smiles.

“Jimmy and me renovated it a bit before he went to Tarsus. There's a couple places where it's obvious it wasn't done by professionals, but it's way better than before, and Jimmy loved it.”

 After a short walk through the house, which is clean but slightly untidy, in that typically human homey kind of way, Amanda looks at her son. Spock is staring at some holos. She wants to tell them that humans consider it impolite to stare at private holos, even when they are displayed like this, but her breath catches when she actually sees the holo.

 George Kirk, the hero of the Federation, beaming down at her, his arm around a young, obviously pregnant Winona, a little boy of maybe three years sitting in front of them. It must have been taken shortly before the last journey of the Kelvin.

It feels very, very private, and Amanda turns away, to find Winona looking at her. There's grief shadowing Winona's eyes, and Amanda thinks it should feel wrong, to see someone as vibrant as Winona this sad, but somehow it doesn't. The grief was there the whole time, she realizes, just overshadowed by charisma and a determination to be alive, to be okay.

Neither of them says anything, but Amanda takes Winona's hand when they leave the room.

They see Winona of when she has to report back to her ship. She won't be far, she says. Apparently, Starfleet Command likes having a number of ships close to Earth and Vulcan, it's main worlds, to scare of any glory seeking Klingons and Romulans.

“Just com when you have any questions about the house.” Winona says, already dressed in her gold tunic. She's wearing the less used female variant of the uniform, the one with the pants. Somehow, Amanda can't even picture Winona wearing the dress.

“We'll be fine, Winona. You do us a great favor.” Amanda says, but she's smiling. She has a feeling that Winona likes knowing that the house isn't empty, even if it's not her own family that's living there.

“Indeed, Captain Kirk. It is very kind of you to allow us to stay at your home.” Spock says, his hands behind his back. He is still wearing the jeans Amanda got him, but the cap is gone. Maybe he will adjust better than Amanda had thought.

“It's my pleasure.” Winona says, smiling. She gives the taal to Spock, who returns the gesture solemnly, and then goes to hug Amanda. This time, Amanda is somewhat more prepared for it, and hugs her friend back.

“You can call even if everything's okay, you know?” Winona says with a wink, and then she's gone, disappearing into a crowd of other Starfleet officers.

Amanda smiles. She has a feeling that there is somewhat of an adventure ahead.

[voidselfshipp]

Ah yes ,my Man, the cutest of cuties. My baby boy frank