grand_fallguy: (unhappy)
In Tim's dream he had been back at Fandom, running late for a class that he hadn't ever heard of before. And he couldn't remember now that he was awake if he'd been enrolled, or supposed to teach the class.

And as these things generally went, he was halfway there when he realized he'd forgotten a very important piece of clothing. And someone had changed the entire structure of the school on him.

Oddly enough, he'd actually noticed the change, and even in the context of the dream, it was unusual. Pippi had run by, explaining that Baba Yaga had cursed the school and turned it into a labyrinth, but that he shouldn't worry, Artie and Nadia had it all under control.

She'd then assured him that Alfred could tell him how to find his classes, but she'd started speaking in the same dialect of Swedish as the Swedish Chef, so he hadn't understood how to find Alfred.

He'd woken up feeling broody and nostalgic so now he was listening to music he'd enjoyed on the island. And realizing that the music he was nostalgic for hadn't actually been written yet in his timeline.
grand_fallguy: (smilin tim)
Tim had often done the cooking back when it was just his mother and he in the apartment in New York. But it was usually simple stuff.

Okay lasagna might not be the fanciest dinner ever, but still. Tim had never done anything that elaborate before. Hobson had secretly gone behind him and helped where needed, and Tim pretended not to have noticed. It worked out well.

Dessert was store-bought of course. Gwynn's favorite. And there were makings for mixed drinks for later.

They were a number of years too early for Netflix and chill, but Tim had tried for the next best thing, renting a few movies that he hoped she'd like to see, and one or two he knew she'd mentioned favorably.

And of course there was a neatly wrapped present on the coffee table.

Now of course, all that was needed was the girl.

And yes, he knew it was Monday. He was determined however to worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.
grand_fallguy: (smilin tim)


"Please tell me you've seen it."

"Sure and what kind of question is that. I've never missed an episode yet."

Tim grinned. Having access to future technology and particularly future pop culture could get frustrating when everyone else was at least a decade behind. But fortunately many of his Fae friends had the same access.

"Twas a bit disappointing to be honest. Part one was great fun, but part two...the Palace and Doctor Beckman's appearance was little more than a cameo."

"Yeah I get that. I guess it's easier to have characters from an urban fantasy drama show up on a conventional cop show, and just leave out the magical bits, than it is to have characters from a cop show come into a fantasy and try to adjust them to a paranormal setting."

"Aye, I suppose it would be too much t' ask to have Doctor Beckman's entire world view be shaken to it's very core."

"Fun though. Just think though, now every time she proselytizes about how all that stuff doesn't exist, we all know she's one hundred percent wrong."


"Oh, hang on, Step-Pappy's calling."

He was so proud of himself for figuring out the procedure for putting someone on hold.

"Mr. What's Blue Box repair service."

Tim's face went from benign complacency to surprise and joy. "That's great! I'm on the other line with Faerie, 'sokay if I tell them?"

He switched lines again, and heard a high pitched squeeing in the background.

"I have news, but I get the feeling Teleri just heard it."

"Aye, bloody hell. What happened? That's not her horrifies squee."

"I'm gonna be a big brother."

He had to hold the phone away from his ear as a new squee came from it.
grand_fallguy: (smilin tim)
Bracing himself for the mass of replies he hoped expected to get, Tim (who hadn't told anyone he was going to propose), finally did all the social media stuff about getting engaged. Then went the official announcement:

Hello friends and family, and maybe even frenemies! As of a few days ago, Gwynn and I are engaged.
grand_fallguy: (woah!)
Their pursuers caught up with them at dawn the next day. Well, intercepted. As it turned out, none of them knew how to track. They were either aquatic Fae, or had grown up in a land environment not conducive to tracking down escaped prisoners on a tropical island.

But sure enough they had realized that the only hope of salvation the trio had was in getting to a boat. So they'd started there, and began searching all possible avenues to the dock.

“Hide!” Tim hissed at Robin and Gobo. “You're our ace in the hole no pun intended.”

Loathe to leave their friends, the tiny adventurers never the less heeded Tim's advice.

He launched himself at the nearest Fomorian, a seven foot fish man with teeth like an angler-fish.

“Get Ana out of here!” he cried to Leda. He was sort of armed, but he knew that Leda stood a much better chance of getting the kid to safety.

Reflexively, the Fomor tried to bite his attacker. Which failed. Sort of. He did manage to recapture Tim, in a manner of speaking.

While Leda fled with Ana, who kept wanting to go back and help, everyone else just sort of stared at Tim, and his captor. The chain of the shackles was tangled in the thing's teeth. It stood there, not sure what to do now, Tim dangling by the wrists from it's mouth.

“Well.” he sighed. “Don't leave me hanging.”

[Up early for reasons. Continued from the previous post in this journal. And to be continued here.]
grand_fallguy: (unhappy)
One nice thing about this lost island, it was warm, even at night. Which was good because they hadn't been able to risk a fire. Gobo, being a natural at exploring unknown areas, or possibly just having an instinct for finding caves, had found them a nice place hidden behind some undergrowth and boulders. The cave floor was covered with a deep enough layer of sand to make it somewhat comfortable to sleep on.

That was the extent of their luck that night however. They'd reached the top of a cliff, with no easy way down, and still no sign of the shore. And though they had the opportunity to rest, they were unable to find any way to remove Tim's shackles. There weren't any locks to pick, or rocks big enough to try breaking the chain connecting them.

“That would probably make a lot of noise anyway eh?” Gobo suggested.

Robin then explained that after graduating college, he'd decided to spend the summer in Fraggle Rock. He and Gobo had been exploring, and found a passageway that his friend was sure no one had ever found before. And it of course, led them right into Ana's cell.

The two Muppets, Tim, and Leda had taken turns keeping watch, but the night had been uneventful.

Before Ana woke up, Tim and Leda had a brief conversation about the plan.

“What do you think our chances are?” Tim asked.

“Not good.” she shrugged. “They're sure to figure out we'd try for the docks. Unfortunately that's really our only escape. So we'll have to chance it. Probably one of us will have to sacrifice ourselves, cause a distraction or something so the other can get Ana to a boat.”

“Why are you so fucking calm about all this?” Tim snapped.

“I don't know. I suppose I ought to be scared. Or angry. But I'm not. Do you suppose it's possible to get so scared that you lose the capacity for it?”


“Do you suppose last night was their only shot?” Robin asked. “In the movies rituals like that have to be performed at a specific time.”

“Somehow I doubt they'll just let us go, even if that were the case.”

“There's gotta be people looking for us.” Tim said. “I mean, people we want to find us. Ana's dad, Gwynn, hell, the Queen of the Elves can't just vanish without people noticing.”

That gave Leda pause. “Huh. Yes you're right. And both your world and mine have magic. But this operation was planned out very well. Surely the Fomorians would have taken that into account.”

“That's a lot of factors to keep track of.” Tim said firmly. “If you don't mind, I'll hold out some hope of the cavalry riding over the hill.”

“You do that.”

[Continued from here.]
grand_fallguy: (buh?)
With the blindfold removed, Tim was finally able to look around. He was in an honest to God dungeon. It was even lit by torches. Fan fucking tastic. In the dim light he studied the designs on the wrist shackles he still wore.

“Ah ha.”

“Ah ha?” He looked up and saw that in the cell across from him, Leda was studying the area as well. So that's what they'd meant by Faerie Queen.

“Yes. Ah ha. As in, ah ha! Just as I suspected. I have no idea what any of these markings mean.”

“Some sort of warding magic I suspect.” she said calmly. “Designed to keep you from summoning your sword.” She tilted her head. “Which is odd. The island itself keeps me from using my magic. No doubt it's the presence of Domnu.”

“I'm not sure the magic of the sword is from the Tuatha De Danan.” Tim said.

“Ah. That would explain it.”

“Who's Domnu?”

“She's the mother goddess of the Fomorians, like Danu is the mother goddess of the Tuatha. The Elves who settled in Ireland. She's 'dead' right now, but with the proper ritual and sacrifices she can be brought back.”

Tim hadn't known Leda for long, or well. But he found her current attitude, so matter of fact, disturbing.


“Uh huh. You, me, the kid.” she gestured towards the cell next to Tim's, which he couldn't see. “They will kill us, probably soon. Unless we manage to escape.”

Tim heard a muffled sob coming from the cell next door. Great, the little girl probably heard all that.


Ana had indeed heard all that. And as hard as she tried to be brave, a wave of hopelessness threatened to break over her. She didn't want to die! She...what was that?

Soft, but getting louder. Music. Coming from behind her. The torchlight left her cell dim, with dark shadowy corners that she couldn't see into. But she was certain now, that she heard singing, and what sounded like a banjo coming from one of those corners. No, not quite the corner itself, beyond the corner. But it was getting closer.

She crept carefully into the corner, feeling along, and realized that there was a loose brick in the wall. Several in fact.

“Hello?” she called.

The singing stopped. “Did you hear that?” someone on the other side of the wall said. “I think there's someone up ahead!”


The guards simply never saw them coming. Or going. By the time any of them noticed that the keys were gone (which was when Marsh and Pythona came to fetch the prisoners) it was already too late. The cell doors hung open, as did the door at the other end of the hall.

“Find. Them.” Marsh said, his voice tightly controlled.

[Continued from here.]

And continued here.
grand_fallguy: (too early)
The next time Tim came to, Marsh was sitting at the table in the room. "Marsh? What the hell is going on? Did you hit me?"

"Yes Tim I did. I thought maybe otherwise you'd actually come up with a plan of escape, and well that didn't work for us."

"Us? What...where are we?"

Marsh sighed. "You know Tim for someone chosen to be the spokesman for the Fae in America, you're depressingly ignorant of your own family history. Why do you think they chose you?"

Tim's head felt better, but his stomach was still unhappy, which distracted him. Were they on a boat? And since when did Marsh actually know about the fae? Much less Tim's connection to them? "Chose father-"

"Yes that's right, your father. And do you really think that was a coincidence? Somehow, your father found a random portal to the Leeside, heard a cry for help and ran to the rescue? He found it because of who he was. Because of what you both are.

"Timothy Alfred Desmond, Grand and Puissant Champion of the Fae. And direct descendant of the Tuatha De Danan."


"You do know who they were I hope. Tell me your studies haven't all been for nothing."

So many questions and objections crowded into Tim's mind. He managed to sum them all up.


"It's a lot to take in, I know. We might even have time for further discussions before the ceremony. But for now I'm going to make this very simple. Your family invaded my country, killed my people and drove the rest of us into exile. We're going to kill you Tim. I just wanted you to understand why."
grand_fallguy: (owie)
In high school, Tim had had a recurring fantasy. It consisted of him lying, under a cherry tree, dying. The girl of his dreams cradling his head in her lap, stroking his hair and weeping, lamenting all the lost opportunities.

It was a fantasy born of self-pity and unrequited love. It had become less attractive when he came close to dying for real several times, and he actually got together with the girl of his dreams. He should call T'ing, he hadn't talked to her in a while.

They had dated, saved the world, expressed their eternal love for each other, and eventually drifted amicably apart.

So Tim was not surprised to find that the woman cradling his head in her lap was not the 'lovely and aloof' T'ing Hau Kaplan, but the just as lovely but not aloof Gwynn Hood. He was surprised however to find himself having this dream at all.

Ah, dream.

He struggled to consciousness and when he got there, changed his mind. His stomach lurched, and his head hadn't hurt this much since Pippi Longstocking had knocked him senseless.

He groaned and, knowing it was a mistake even as he did so, tried to sit up. Which was when he realized that his head was in fact, being cradled in a woman's lap. She pushed him back down gently.

"Woah there Tiger." she said. "Take it easy, you took quite a clonk on the head there."

"Gwynn?" Though it clearly wasn't. His head was foggy, but the hair color was wrong, as was the voice.

The woman laughed softly. "No, no I'm not Gwynn. My name's Mera."

Tim's mind gradually cleared, and he saw that he was being tended to by a pretty red-haired woman. The events leading up to his incapacitation were still just out of reach.

"What happened? Where am I?"

"You got hit in the head." she answered. "And as for where you are...honestly I'm not sure of our position. But that doesn't matter right now anyway. What's important now, is that you relax."

She smiled at him, and he couldn't help a slight shudder. Though that might just be the mild nausea. But though her tone was kind, and her hands gentle, there was something about her smile that was unsettling.


Mera stepped into the wheelhouse, and leaned against the chart table. Marsh never looked away from the horizon, his hands steady at the helm.

"How is he?" he asked.

"He'll live." she answered. A moment later the irony of what she'd said sank in and she began to laugh. Marsh smirked.

"How'd the Nilbog operation go?"

"We lost three, but got the girl."


"Mr. Kessler killed R'lon and Makar. I don't think you ever met them. Good men, a little boring though. Not sure who took out Mthk. Pythona and her new friend will meet us later."

"What about the other thing?"

Marsh sighed. "There was...a complication there."

"What do you mean? Did what's her name get away?"


Mera scowled. "What, happened?"

But Marsh didn't answer. Instead, he let out a quiet gasp of exultation. "There it is."

Mera's concerns were forgotten in an instant, as her gaze followed his pointing finger. Just coming into view was an island.

Mera's breath caught in her throat. She'd dedicated her entire adult, and much of her pre-adult life to this moment, but still she'd hardly imagined she would see this.

"It's beautiful." she said, eyes brimming. If only Michael had stuck it out, and was here with her. "Marsh, we're home."
grand_fallguy: (Marsh)
Windows down, music playing, Tim managed to forget the stress of trying to adjust to driving on the left side of the road. With the steering wheel on the wrong side even.

In the passenger seat, Marsh was poring over the map, sadly missing out on much of the gorgeous country side. But he glanced up when Tim snickered. “What?”

“They painted 'slow' on the road back there. And a little bit later they painted 'slower'.”

Marsh smirked. “Gotta love that wry humor. Where are we?”

“You're the navigator.” Tim said. “I'm just along for the ride.”

The two were on a short road trip, trying to locate local sites of pagan spiritual significance. While Tim was after the stories themselves (and hopefully meet local Fae to get their side), Marsh was attempting to determine how prevalent the belief in Fairies was. His own thesis was about the enduring power of ancient beliefs.

Tim had gotten the driver job because as it turned out, he hadn't driven much in the US, so he was likely to have an easier time adjusting. So far, so good.

“Right. Well we should be coming up on...Innbeil. I'm probably pronouncing that wrong.”

“No I think you got it.” Tim said, and sure enough they passed a sign that announced they were entering the town of Innbeil. Their timing couldn't be better. No sooner had they sighted the cozy seaside hamlet, then an unpleasant noise erupted from the engine.


“Looks t' be ye're after kickin' up somethin' from th' road into the engine.” the mechanic said. “Nothin' that can't be sorted, but I don't think I could get it finished till tomorrow.”

Marsh swore under his breath. They'd budgeted a limited amount of time for this side trip, and the car had to be back at the rental place by the end of the week. This town wasn't even on their itinerary.

“So we either spend extra on the car, or we don't get to every place on our list.” Tim grumbled, as they walked towards the town's only hotel.

“I guess it's just as well we sprang for the insurance on the rental.”

Fortunately there were two rooms available at the hotel. The season was beginning, and holiday makers were coming in. That evening, Tim and Marsh tried to talk to some of the inhabitants, hoping to make up for any lost time by collecting some local folklore. But all they got were dirty looks.

Tim actually had been feeling like something was off for a while now.

“Do the folks around here seem...standoffish to you?” he finally asked.

“Maybe they don't like tourists.”

“A tourist town that doesn't like tourists?”

“Just because they have accommodations for 'holiday makers' doesn't make it a tourist town.” Marsh corrected him. “And even then, lots of townies resent outsiders, even if they are willing to take their money.”

But Tim was sure it was more than that. Something was just setting his instincts, honed by years of adventures, on their guard. He noted that the door to his room did not have a lock on it. Frowning, he summoned his sword and put up a shield around the entrance. It would at least buy him time, just in case.

When someone tried to open the door late that night, he was glad he'd listened to his gut. When the door didn't open right away, whoever was out there tried to force it. Tim swore, and was about to summon his sword again, when Marsh burst in from the adjoining room.

“Tim!” he hissed. “Someone's trying to break into my room!”

“Mine too.” Tim said grimly. He thought quickly. “The window, come on.”

He ushered Marsh out first, who dropped carefully into the back garden, and was about to follow, when something caught his attention.

The shield he'd put up around the door was glowing, and he could hear chanting from the hallway. Someone was trying to counteract his spell.


He heard the door give way as he dropped down beside Marsh. “Run!” he ordered, pushing the man ahead of him.

“Run where?!” Marsh sounded panicked. “Our car's in the shop and do you know how far it is to the next town?”

“Let's start with, away, and then figure out the rest when we get there.”

They dashed into the night, and Marsh finally noticed that Tim was armed. “Where the hell did that come from?”

“Long story.” One they didn't have time for just now. He could hear sounds of pursuit already. As they passed a woodpile, Marsh grabbed a stout stick. It was better than nothing.

Tim had a vague plan to get out into the woods and then call Portalocity. And then buy Marsh a drink as he explained all this as best he could.

“Look out!” Marsh shouted suddenly, looking into a nearby ally, his eyes wide. Tim looked, and Marsh smashed him in the back of the neck with his club. “I said look out.”
grand_fallguy: (smilin tim)
Timothy A. Desmond, a native of Brooklyn New York had never given any thought to his family history. He could never even remember his mother's maiden name. And for much of his life, the less thought he gave to his father, the better. He and his mother had both believed that the man had walked out on them when he was a child.

It wasn't until the Fae began to return to the world of Mortals, that he learned the truth. That his father had somehow wandered into a pocket dimension called the Leeside, where all the various mystical creatures that had emigrated to the US had been banished. There, he'd been drafted through his own innate heroism into serving as the Leeside's sole champion.

Tim himself had become forcibly aware of his Irish roots, when the family Banshee, a lovely and passionate young woman named Teleri had begun to preemptively mourn his death.

And now here he was, in the land of his forefathers, studying that very history, and working on a thesis regarding it, and Irish Emigration, and drinking Guinness with a visiting professor. Professor Ronan O'Mara was a legend in the Irish Academic world. He taught history, mythology and folklore. He'd traveled through the country back in the 50's (or was it 60's?) as a wandering storyteller. It was rumored that his parentage had been unconventional, that his father had in fact, impregnated his wife's sister, because his wife would not survive pregnancy.

Not surprisingly therefore, he was one of the few people Tim had ever met, who could perceive the Fae world around them.

"It's not so common in the cities." O'Mara said. Here outside the classroom he lost his lecturing tone, but still came across as one addressing an audience. "But all across Europe you can find remnants of the old ways. There's roads that've had to be diverted so they didn't interfere with the Fae. I can show you on any map the odd twists, or placements of towns. And yet," He took a sip of his Guinness, "It seems as though even the people who believe in them, can't see what's right in front of them."

"Are you so sure?" Tim challenged him. "Maybe they're just pretending so other people won't think they're crazy. The folks back in New York have gotten really good at that."

"Well you may have something there." O'Mara mused. "My aunt Kate, Godresther, swore she never saw the man my Grandfather addressed as Harvey-"

Tim couldn't help a snort of laughter. O'Mara smiled. "Yes I know. But I'm certain she twitched a smile when she heard the creature speak that name."

"I guess since you never had a break from them, you never got a shock from it." Tim went on. "When people came to America, it wasn't, uh, cool, to believe in stuff like Fairies. So for almost a century we were separated from them. So when the came back, we didn't know how to deal."

"Well it seems you've done a fine job young Lord Desmond."

Tim wasn't entirely happy with that nickname, but it was a hell of a lot better than "Grand and Puissant Champion of the Fae".
grand_fallguy: (woah!)
Tim woke with a start, and a strangled gasp, jerking up in his seat. Which scared a short yelp from the man sitting next to him. Marsh, a fellow American student looked around embarrassed. None of the other passengers seemed to have noticed anything, so he turned to Tim.

"What was that?" he asked. "You scared the bejabbers out of me."

Tim honestly wasn't sure. He had a vague recollection of a nightmare, but it was fading quickly. He rubbed his face to further wake himself up. "Sorry. Uh, falling dream."

Marsh winced. "Oh I hate those. Heights." He shuddered. "Anyway it looks like we're here." The poor guy had some trouble maneuvering his bags and himself out the door, and might have fallen out had Tim not caught him.


"All part of the service. Now. I suppose it's too late to check in at the University, but I've got a line on a decent bed and breakfast in town."

"That's good. But I've got an uncle putting me up tonight. I suppose I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah probably. Nice meeting you Barney."

"You too Tim." As Marsh headed off, lugging his bags and searching for a familiar face, Tim heard him start lecturing to himself. "Not really an Uncle though. More like a fourth cousin or something. Twice removed I think..."

Tim shook his head, amused. Then he sent Gwynn a text informing her he'd arrived safely, and found an out of the way spot to catch a portal to Teleri and Runyon's place.
grand_fallguy: (smilin tim)
It had come to Tim's notice recently that he had never actually been to Ireland. While studying in England he'd taken a few trips to "The Continent", and been up to Scotland many times. But never to the country that comprised half his ancestry.

For that matter he'd never been to Russia, but as a child of the cold war, he was okay with that.

In any case, he figured that it was time to fix that, hence, his upcoming semester "abroad".

Guidebooks, maps and paperwork covered the coffee table. As well as another list, one he was prepared to quickly hide in case anyone, especially Gwynn, came in.
grand_fallguy: (swand)
"Good news everyone! The day we have all awaited, some of us more patiently than others will soon be upon us! The Great Alignment! Yes, soon, the worlds will align, our great island will rise from the hidden depths, Mother Domnu shall be released from her eternal exile, and once again the Fomors shall walk upon the land!!

"Let's see, what else...

"Oh yes, Nigel and Enid would like to invite everybody to their home next weekend for a special tea. They've just completed all the improvements and are eager show off a little. Lunch will of course be served, but it is B.Y.O.B.

"And lastly, if anyone has found, or should find, a blue walkman radio, please let Rupert Elton know."
grand_fallguy: (buh?)
Someone was banging on the door. Tim, ready for anything today, lost no time in answering. It was Samhain, Halloween. The day when the barrier between the living world and the world of the dead was at it's thinnest. The Unseelie Christmas.

So when he opened the door and found no one outside, he was almost let down.

But the banging continued. And then he realized that it wasn't coming from the door to the apartment, it was coming from inside the hall closet.

"Better not be another fucking bogeyman." he muttered. But then, they typically didn't announce themselves like that. They liked to ominously creep out, the better to scare people.

He summoned his sword to his hand just in case, and then threw open the door.

Several Faerie children (and not-so-children) in various costumes were crowded inside. "Trick or treat!" They shouted in unison.

grand_fallguy: (grown tim)
Neil hat taken to calling their apartment in London The Flat. As if he was trying to remind himself what Brits called them.

Tim didn't usually worry about that. He was a Yank, studying abroad. As one of his classmates had said "tell them you're American, they won't expect as much".

He conformed in a lot of ways, but felt that abandoning slang deliberately was too much effort. If he started calling it The Flat, rather than the apartment, naturally, then so be it.

He had in fact been calling fries, chips, for some time now.

In any case that wasn't what he was pondering right now. He'd begun the final year of his schooling, and he had some pretty big decisions to make. He could, go for a higher degree, or attempt to venture out into the world to make his fortune. Of course with an advanced degree in Mythology and Folklore he didn't think there were many options employment-wise.

But then, he suspected he'd reached the point in his life, where such decisions were not for him alone. There was one other very important matter. And she'd played such a vital role in his life so far, that he figured it was time to consult her on such matters.

[For the girlfriend.]
grand_fallguy: (woah!)
Returning from the Christmas holiday, Tim was jet-lagged and tired, and thus did not notice the figure on the couch at first. Not till he flopped down beside it, and cast a casual glance in that direction.

"Woah!" He jerked back, startled. There was what appeared to be some sort of Fae creature sitting lifeless and mutilated on the far end. Tim leaped up from the couch, summoning his sword to his hand.

But in the glow given off by the blade he saw that he had perhaps over-reacted a touch. It was not in fact, a real Fae. But a half constructed...something. Was it a puppet? A robot?

Eleziane burst into the room. "My Lord what's wrong?" A ball of energy sparked in her palm, ready for throwing. Then she too saw what was on the couch. "Oh. Balls." She dismissed her magic missile. "I'm so sorry, I forgot I'd left that there." It dangled limply over her arm. "I started an apprenticeship with the Henson company, and they let me take one of their old Goblin Maze puppets to tinker with.

"I thought you were studying costume design."

"I am. But I'm branching out as well. Partly because I've hopes of someday getting them to adapt Neil's manuscript."

"This is weird in so many ways." Tim said. And as a veteran of Fandom, he would know.
grand_fallguy: (too early)
The road to hell was paved with good intentions, that's what they said. well Tim didn't know about that, but this hangover seemed to be a good metaphor for that. Some well meaning Fae had slipped some human spirits into the course of drinks the night before. Elven wine didn't come with hangovers.

By the time Tim stumbled from his room into the kitchen, it was much later than he usually liked to get up. Even on a Sunday. Actually he kind of liked the city on a Sunday. It was quieter than usual.

He drank five glasses of water, and one super sized cup of coffee before he felt awake enough to even think about what had gone on the night before.

There had been a few things being celebrated. Apparently the Fae were as passionate about Hurling as the Mortal world was about Football, and the local team had won the Hidden World Cup. Then there was toasting the marriage of Tim's mother and Faust, then something about the Superbowl.

"Hey." Neil yawned, coming in looking disgustingly refreshed. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Weren't you supposed to catch a train up north? Something about a big party or something way up in the ass of nowhere Scotland?"


[For the girlfriend.]
grand_fallguy: (Default)
The men had been chased out (even the Bannik) and it was time for the dressmaker (a literal domestic goddess) on loan from the Faerie Court to get the bridesmaids fitted for their dresses.

She looked at the arrayed girls and smirked. "Aside from height, you all seem to be the same body type. That should make things simpler."

[For Gwynn]
grand_fallguy: (Default)
"I still can't believe you've never been here." Faust said, looking up at the statue. You've lived in New York all your life."

"That's why I've never been here." Tim said. "I hear that DC natives almost never visit the memorials." He'd been to Central Park fairly often, and the Brooklyn Zoo a lot. But the only time he had ever gone to any of the museums in Manhattan was on school trips.

"Have you figured out who your best man is gonna be yet?" Tim asked. Faust had not been surprised when Tim had had to turn down the offer.

"Yes actually. I've asked Neil. He was most enthusiastic."

Tim grimaced. "Yeah I'll bet he was. That bachelor party's gonna be scary." Not as scary as the likely hangover would be. He suspected that it would make him wish he hadn't woken up after being killed by Leda in the alternate Fandom.
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